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Authors: Tracie Peterson

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BOOK: Rivers of Gold
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“I know you’re right, but sometimes it’s just so hard.” He paused. “I reach for her in the night and she’s not there. I think I hear her come into the room and turn to find that it’s only the wind.”

Ephraim nodded. “It’s not easy, but in time the pain will lessen.”

“I’d like to believe that,” Peter said, “but I doubt it could possibly be true. Still, I’m willing to leave it in God’s hands. After all, there are few other choices.”

“Especially choices that would honor Grace’s memory and be in keeping with God’s desire for your life.”

The cab stopped in front of their townhouse, interrupting the moment. Peter paid the driver, and then helped his father from the steps. He looked up at the house, noting that it no longer felt like a home to him. Leaving San Francisco seemed the only hope of maintaining his sanity. He’d been happy here with Grace, despite the arguments and the painful words between them. Words he’d spoken in anger. Words that had driven her away.

“Come on, son. Let’s tell your mother the good news.”

Ephraim headed up the steps of the walkway, and reluctantly Peter followed.

Peter lightly fingered the pink silk gown that he’d given Grace shortly after their marriage. She had looked radiant in the dress, but then, she’d looked radiant in most anything she wore. Caressing the gown to his face, he breathed in her perfume—now faded and barely distinguishable.

“Oh, Grace. Why did I have to wait until it was too late to know what I had in you?”

“Peter?” Myrtle called from behind the closed bedroom door.

Putting the dress aside, Peter went to the door. Opening it, he found his mother-in-law looking rather expectant. “Yes, Myrtle?”

“I wondered if we might have a moment to speak together. I don’t want to take you away from anything important.”

“No, that’s all right. I wasn’t doing anything that can’t wait until later. What did you want to talk to me about?” He stepped back to allow her to enter the room.

Myrtle walked past him, then turned and smiled. “Peter, your mother tells me that you’re heading north by the end of the week.”

“Yes, that’s correct.” He motioned to a chair. “Won’t you sit down?”

Myrtle nodded and took a seat. Her black gown, a constant reminder of her widowhood and Grace’s death, swished in gentle whispers as she straightened her skirts. Peter pulled up another chair from the opposite side of the room and sat down across from Myrtle.

“I figure to leave by Friday. I want to be north as soon as possible and find my sister.”

“I pray God will grant you His favor in your search. I plan to leave by the end of the week, myself. I wondered if you would be so kind as to escort me to the train station on the day after tomorrow.”

“I would be happy to do that,” Peter replied. He had a hard time looking at Myrtle, especially at her eyes. She reminded him so much of Grace that it hurt. He had to look away.

“Do you suppose you will learn anything more of Grace?” Her question pierced his heart. “I don’t know. I don’t expect to be shown a grave or anything like that. I don’t imagine they would be able to … to …” He couldn’t say the words.

Myrtle nodded. “No, I don’t imagine they would have recovered her body.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked down. “I just wondered if you thought there might be some further word on her. Maybe Miss Pierce would be able to share something more.”

“It’s possible. I’m sure if anyone would be able to give us further insight, Karen would be the one. Miranda, however, was also very close to Grace. She loved her like a sister, and they’d grown quite close.” Peter hesitated before suggesting, “Why don’t you stay here while I’m gone? I know my mother and father would love to have you here.”

“No, I would rather go back to my aunt’s place. She’s old and needs the help. Besides, there is something renewing and invigorating in living in such a simple rural setting after having lived in Chicago.”

“I’m sure that is true.”

“I only ask that you keep in touch,” Myrtle said rather sadly. “I don’t wish to lose contact with you simply because Grace is gone.”

“And you won’t. I’ve already spoken to my lawyer. I am arranging to set up an account for you with the money Grace inherited. I want you to have whatever you need.”

Myrtle’s face reddened a bit and tears came to her eyes. “You are a good son-in-law, but really, you mustn’t worry about me. I’m set well enough with my aunt.”

“I insist. I’m not sure how long it will take to resolve, but should you need anything prior to that, please don’t hesitate to contact us. I’ll leave an account with my parents. Just let them know what you need, and we’ll do our best to see to it.”

“Oh, Peter, you are truly as remarkable and generous as Grace told me.”

“I wish I’d been as generous of spirit with Grace. I’m ashamed to say that I wronged her terribly, Myrtle. I didn’t tell you everything that transpired between us, but our marriage was not as pleasant or loving as it could have been. I’m afraid that before I knew God I was rather ruthless at times.”

Myrtle wiped her eyes and smiled. “Marriage is hard work—for everyone. I remember times when I wanted nothing more than to throttle Frederick. He would speak to me as if I were a child without good sense.”

“I know I did that to Grace on more than one occasion. I have a bad temper.”

“Surely no worse than my Frederick.” Myrtle reached out and took hold of Peter’s hand. “She loved you—be certain of that. Her letters said that and so much more.”

Peter’s heart flooded with gratitude. “Thank you for saying so. It helps. I hate to think of Grace’s last thoughts of me being how truly awful I was and how sorry she was for having married me.”

“Then rest your mind and put your worries aside. She told me of difficult moments, but she always stressed that her love for you was stronger than anything that could possibly go wrong.”

Peter gripped her hand gently. “We should have had this talk a long time ago.”

“I didn’t realize how much you were hurting until I came here. Watching you has shown me proof of your deep abiding love for my daughter. How I wish things could have been different.” Myrtle’s voice was tinged with regret. “I just wanted you to know that I understand. I miss her and Frederick more than I can say, but God alone will ease the pain—in His time.”

“I only wish I had known what a priceless gem I had in her, before it was too late. When I come back from the Yukon, maybe I’ll take some of her money and erect a monument to her in the cemetery.”

“Why not put the money to some better use, something that would bring glory to God and make Grace proud?”

“Such as?” Peter questioned.

“I don’t know. Pray about it, and perhaps God will give you a mission,” Myrtle said, getting to her feet.

Peter immediately stood and embraced the older woman. “Myrtle, you were a godsend. You’ve given me comfort as no one else possibly could. When I return, I shall visit you in Wyoming.”

“I would like that,” she said, pulling away. “I would like that very much.”

—[CHAPTER FOURTEEN]—

MONTHS OF WORKING with Teddy had given Miranda quite an education. She could now identify many flowers and dried leaves without having to ask Teddy for assistance. She had also come to realize that her frantic concern for locating her friends was lessening in the wake of her pleasure in Teddy’s company. She’d become rather lackadaisical in her inquiries.

Truth be told, there were many days when she never even left the hotel room. She labored with Teddy, helping him catch up his research to at least the point where he’d left off when they’d come to Dawson in January. Now, with March winds alternating between freezing them to the bone and teasing them with a touch of spring, Miranda knew she needed to rededicate herself to the pursuit of locating her friends. However, Teddy was more adamant in their work than ever before. The summer would mean he could be back in the fields, and if his work from the previous year went uncompleted, he’d have to delay his trip.

As she poured over Teddy’s journals and ledgers, Miranda wondered what course of action she should take. She had inquired around town about her friends when the opportunity presented itself. Many people knew of large, burly miners whose description fit that of Adrik Ivankov, but no one could tell her for sure that the men were one and the same.

At the same time, Miranda was torn by the thought of Teddy leaving for the wilderness. She tried to tell herself that it was only because they’d become such close companions in their work, but in her heart she knew it was more than that.

“I believe that,” Teddy said, coming into the room unannounced, “if we persevere, we may well have this work completed by the end of next month. That will work in perfect accord with my return to the cabin.”

It was almost as if he’d read her very thoughts. Miranda straightened from where she’d been bent over his books. She decided it would be best to broach the subject of what was to become of her once he was gone.

“Teddy, what am I to do if I cannot locate my friends?”

He looked at her rather blankly for a moment. It almost seemed to Miranda that he’d not given the possibility even a moment’s thought.

“Why, I suppose you might stay here,” he said, then turned to hang his coat on the peg by the door.

“I can’t very well do that without a job,” Miranda chided. “I could return home. After all, it’s important to me that my family knows I’m safe.”

Teddy looked at her for a moment. Miranda held his gaze, watching him search her face as if looking for something. “Passage would be expensive,” he finally said. He walked to the window and pulled aside the sheer curtain. The skies were staying light for more hours of the day, and Miranda was grateful for this.

“I think it would be wiser to locate your friends rather than just leave. After all, they must be somewhere in the area.”

“I’ve not seen Crispin again, and he was in the area as well,” Miranda replied.

“Yes, but that could have been a man who just favored your friend. You said yourself that you couldn’t be sure.”

Miranda nodded and walked to the stack of drawings Teddy had asked her to file. Bringing them back to the table, she began to sort through them. Paintbrush, shooting stars, larkspur, and subalpine buttercups graced the pages of stiff paper. Teddy Davenport was quite an artist. The flowers, rendered only in charcoal and pencil, were detailed and labeled in such a way that they allowed for easy reference for anyone who wanted to study the species more closely.

Realizing Teddy had joined her at the table, Miranda looked up. “I know it could have been a complete stranger,” she finally said. “It seems likely that it was, but I have to make a decision before you head out.”

“You could come with me. I won’t be staying at the cabin the entire time. I’ll be traveling the area, in fact.” His voice took on an excited tone. “Yes, that’s it. You could accompany me. If your friends are not evident come the thaw, you could travel with me and look for them as I take collections of the vegetation.”

“I suppose that’s a possibility,” Miranda replied thoughtfully. She looked up and caught the animation in his expression. “Are you certain it wouldn’t be a hindrance? After all, you mentioned more than once that my arrival to your cabin had seriously altered your schedule and routine. And now you’ve had to endure my company here in Dawson as well.”

“I’d hardly say that I’ve had to endure your company. You’ve been a tremendous help to me. I’d not have this work done by now if not for your help.”

“It’s been a great deal of fun,” Miranda said, surprised by her declaration. “I’ve really enjoyed the education. I’ve always loved to learn, although my family never encouraged formal education past the normal schooling for girls. I often thought it would be fun to attend a university, but my brother was against the idea, feeling it wasn’t proper. He prefers to see me at home.” She smiled and rearranged the papers in her hands. “But that’s unimportant. What I wanted to say to you was that I’ve also enjoyed feeling useful.”

“Well, you’ve certainly been that and more.”

Miranda looked into Teddy’s eyes, lost in the warmth of his gaze, and the words she’d thought to say froze on her lips. Realizing he was now only inches away, she felt suddenly shy, almost nervous.

“I’m sorry that I ever said you had altered or interfered with my schedule,” Teddy said, his voice dropping. “I never meant to hurt your feelings or give you the impression that you had caused me any grief. Your help has allowed me to reclaim the time lost to me because of the vandalism to my room.”

Miranda licked her lips and struggled to form the words to reply. “I … I’m … glad to know … I mean, I’m glad I didn’t cause you any real problem.”

She felt her knees grow weak. Why hadn’t she realized how handsome he was before now? She had known him to be attractive, even found his appearance to be quite nice, but he’d never affected her like this before. Now she could see every detail of his face—the furrows in his forehead from the long hours of concentration over his work, the fullness of his lips. He needed a shave, and she was sorely tempted to reach up and run her fingers over the stubble on his chin.

BOOK: Rivers of Gold
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