Northern Lights Trilogy (77 page)

“She is not dead. I saw her not two weeks ago. Tora is biding her time, trying to find whatever God is seeking to show her. She’ll come to us when it is right. Believe me, I have turned this city upside down trying to find her.”

“Everywhere?”

“Everywhere. She can’t be found because she doesn’t wish it.” “So we wait?”

Elsa shrugged. “What else?”

Trent suddenly laughed. “How is it,” he began, laughing even harder, “that Tora is able to keep us on edge even when she’s at the end of her rope?”

Elsa laughed with him, her voice soft and welcoming. “That is my sister,” she said. “That has always been my sister.”

Karl inhaled deeply, relishing the sting of rain against his cheek as it spread across the Pacific before him in sheets. Never had he felt more alive, more sure of his path than now. The
Tempest
was performing marvelously, and she was at full steam ahead now that the winds had died and only rain prevailed. What might once have set him back a day or two with sail was now overcome. He grinned, fighting to look up into the sky. “You see, Peder? There was a way to do what we both wanted!”

Lucas, the first mate, joined him at the rail, studying him for a moment as if he were batty. “Sir? The second-dog watch is in place, and we may retire. The crew will alert us if this rain becomes anything more serious.”

“Good enough, Lucas. See you at sunrise.”

Lucas left his side and Karl laughed out loud. Let him think his captain was on the edge of lunacy; it would keep him on his toes. There would be time enough to show him that Karl Martensen intended to be the finest captain on the seas of God’s great creation. Until then he was satisfied to rest in his captaincy. There was nothing left to prove. God was again first in his life. And his Creator had given him his life’s dream—a ship to command and a world to explore. Surely, all the rest of his dreams would be handled as efficiently. Until that time, he would rest in the peace that surrounded a man who was where he was supposed to be.

Karl laughed again. Why hadn’t he thought of returning to sea years before?

January 1887

E
lsa liked the man who was in love with her sister. Time and again she found herself shaking her head, unable to quite believe that Tora had snared the heart of an honest, decent man, regardless of their difference in age. She refused to allow herself to hope that they might indeed reunite; that Trent Storm would one day become her brother-in-law. It was too much to ask for. Immediately, he had connected with Kristian and the girls like a doting uncle who truly enjoyed the antics of children. It was a delight to watch them interact and play. She paused in the doorway of the parlor, unseen, to study Trent as he built a tower of blocks with Kristian. Peder would have liked him too.

“I’ve brought tea,” she said, setting down a silver tray laden with imported teacups and Mrs. Hodge’s famous cookies. It had become a daily tradition for Trent to join them midafternoon. Over the last two weeks, they had talked about the search for Tora, Trent’s business, his association with Karl, shipping, opportunities in the West, and eventually matters as personal as his relationship with Elsa’s sister and their shared loss of spouses. She found the idea that Trent had recovered enough to love again comforting; perhaps if another had done it before her, she too could find her way out of the quagmire of grief to happiness.

“That will be perfect,” Trent said, smiling at Kristian as he placed yet another block on a precariously leaning tower.

Kristian giggled and reached for another.

“Sure you want to do that, young man?” Trent asked with a raised brow. “She’s looking pretty unstable.”

Kristian eyed the tower and then Trent again. Pursing his lips, he resolutely turned back to his project. Concentrating, he licked his lips and delicately placed another block on top. The tower wavered, leaned an impossible quarter inch farther, but remained upright.

“Outstanding!” Trent said, clapping Kristian on the shoulder and smiling broadly. He rose and joined Elsa, who sat across the coffee table from him. “I believe you have a capitalist on your hands.”

“He won’t be the first in his family,” Elsa said, pouring from the silver teapot. “Kristian, would you care for some tea?”

“No thank you, Mama,” he said. “May I go join the girls?”

“If they’ll have you,” she said with a laugh. They had been playing in the attic since lunch with some old dolls Kaatje had brought home from a street vendor. Kaatje was back at the soup kitchen, filling in for Doris Mitchell, who had taken to her bed with the influenza. “If they want to play alone, come back and sit with us.”

“All right!” he shouted, launching his small body toward the stairs.

“Slow down, Kristian. Slow down!”

“All right!” he responded, still running up the stairs as fast as he could go.

Elsa laughed and met Trent’s smiling eyes. He was such a gentleman, kind and peaceful. Distinguished. She could see what had drawn Tora to him. Although he was probably over forty, there was a hint of childish delight in his eyes. Perhaps that was what had drawn Trent to Tora: While her childish ways were often irritating and still needed corralling, she too was inexplicably alive in ways that few others were. There was a vivaciousness, an inherent charisma that drew people to her like lava to the sea. “If only we could find some way to turn that flame into a burning ember,” she muttered.

“Pardon me?”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Just talking to myself. Please. Tell me how your search went this morning.”

Trent’s face fell a bit. “She’s here. There’s no doubt. But she doesn’t intend to be found. By now she must know I am in Seattle. She obviously doesn’t wish to see me.”

Elsa paused over her teacup. “Why would she not want to see you, Trent? You’ve put out the word that you’d like to see her?”

Trent stared back at her. “Our last meeting was not pleasant. Perhaps she is afraid.”

“Of you?”

“You forget. I drove her from her home, her business. From any place that was safe.” He looked miserable.

“Do not let yourself forget that you had no choice.”

“How can you be so sure? You barely know me!”

“I know enough of you to see that you did what I would’ve done. Tora has a certain spark … we’re all drawn to it. But she needs to learn how to harness that spark, that charm. She needs to learn that life and the people she encounters are not hers to bend every which way. She’s a manipulator, Trent. Or was. I pray each day that she’s discovered the path to God, the path that could bring her more happiness than she can imagine.” Elsa rose and paced, wringing her hands. “That said, please understand I miss her terribly. How I wish that we could be close! She is my only relative here in America—do you know how lonely I am without her?”

“I understand your feelings wholly. Nevertheless, I fear she does not remember me with fondness. While the letter I showed you gave me hope, it appears that all manner of trouble has befallen her since then. What is to keep her from hating me? For blaming me for not protecting her? I had thought that she might have to fall, to lose what was dear to her to understand what
ought
to be dear to her, but this …”

“God,” Elsa said, setting her teacup down gently. “God will see us
all through this. I’ve agonized over Tora’s choices for years. And still, I’ve missed her. I long for my sister as much as you long for your lost love, Trent.”

Trent turned a pale shade of gray at the mention of love. He rose and leaned against the fireplace mantel, staring into the flames. “I lost my wife, Elsa. I cannot imagine losing Tora for good too.”

“I understand,” she said softly. “It is difficult for me to fathom risking my heart again. It is almost too much for one soul to bear.” Dimly, she heard the front door open and close, but her attention was focused on Trent, for he was crying softly.

She rose and went to him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he wept. Suddenly, he turned and enveloped her in his arms. It was not the movement of a lover, but of a man in need. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his waist and bent her head to rest against his shoulder. It was not what propriety demanded. It was the compassion of a Christian for another in pain.

Elsa did not know how long they clung to each other before she heard Kaatje cough gently at the doorway. She moved quickly away from Trent, embarrassed when she noticed that someone was with Kaatje.

Tora
.

Her sister looked ghastly, with an expression of shock and disbelief on her face as she gazed from her love to her sister in each other’s arms.

“Tora,” Trent gasped, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Tora, you’re here,” Elsa said, taking a step toward her. “I’m so glad. Won’t you sit with us? It has been too long.”

“Not long enough,” Tora said, chin rising slightly. For once, her eyes were full of pain, not defiance. It sent a chill down Elsa’s spine. Her glance went from Elsa to Trent and back again. “Your husband has barely been buried, Elsa. You must go after the man I loved?” She turned halfway, as if to go. “Not that I have any claim on him. Do I, Trent? Our love died long ago for you.”

“No, Tora—”

“I know I did everything to drive you away,” she said mournfully. Somehow, she managed to hold a dignified form, despite her attire and words. “I have learned much since my days in Helena.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He moved toward her but paused when she raised one hand.

“No. Do not come near me. I am not worthy of you any longer.” She looked at Elsa again and nodded once. “It makes sense that you and my sister would come together. She is the one with whom you belong.”

“You do not understand!” Elsa said, moving to grip Tora by the forearm. “He is mourning you! So much that it brought him to tears! I was only comforting a man in pain.”

Tora glanced hopefully at Trent and then at Elsa again, her eyes dropping to the carpet. “You see?” she whispered so only Elsa and Kaatje, standing beside her, could hear. “I still bring him pain. I do not deserve him.”

“It’s not true. Tora, wait,” Elsa begged as Tora flung off her hand and moved to the door.

“Tora!” Trent called, right behind them.

She turned and raised her hands. “Enough. I cannot handle any more. You both wished to see me. I am here. I am alive. And I will continue to survive. Please cease searching for me.”

Both Elsa and Trent moved to follow her, but Kaatje held them back. “Wait. Let her go,” she said softly.

Confused, they did as she bid, watching as Tora once again slipped out the door of their lives. They returned to the parlor and their cold tea. Trent sat and held his head in his hands. “What have I done?” he asked, sounding sick at heart.

“You did nothing,” Elsa said. “You did only what you could.”

“If I were a stronger man, Tora would have never seen us in such a … compromising situation.”

“You are such a strong man that you are not afraid of turning to a
woman for comfort,” Elsa corrected. “Kaatje, where on earth did you find her?”

“I was in the soup kitchen,” Kaatje began, searching her mind for that incredible moment when her eyes again met Tora’s. “I filled in today for Doris. We’ve been there, how many times? Three times a week for a month now? Tora clearly came to see me.”

“And what happened?”

“I was serving soup, when she was suddenly the next in line. She held no bowl. She just looked at me as if she wanted to be anyplace but there, yet could not be anyplace else.” Kaatje looked from Elsa to Trent. “I had prepared myself to feel so many things. Anger. Fear. Frustration.”

“And?”

“All I felt was this sweeping, abiding sense of openness … forgiveness. It was as if our Lord was present, directing me.”

“What did you do?” Trent asked.

“I opened my arms. I stopped right there and then stepped away from the line and opened my arms to her.” “And she?” Elsa asked, holding her breath.

“Came to me directly.” Kaatje giggled a bit, glad for the release of emotion. “I’m sure we were quite a sight, standing there.”

“What did she say?”

“She said nothing,” Kaatje said, her eyes filling with tears. “That was the majesty of the moment. She said nothing, only reluctantly received my embrace.”