[Yukon Quest 01] - Treasures Of The North (40 page)

‘‘He took it better than most men might have. He knew she was out of her suffering. The pneumonia had left her in great pain and unable to breathe without fierce spells of coughing. She was just plain worn out, he told me. We prayed together and then arranged to bury her here.’’

Karen nodded and fought back tears. She could allow herself a good cry later. In fact, she could mourn her mother’s passing and Grace’s departure all in one very long fit. The idea made her smile.

‘‘I see that,’’ Adrik said with amusement in his tone.

Karen got to her feet, almost embarrassed. ‘‘My mother wouldn’t want me to be sad.’’

‘‘No, indeed,’’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘‘Come on. We’d better get back. Now that you know it’s here, you can come see the grave in the daytime.’’

They walked side by side for several feet before Karen paused. She could see the stars overhead and the moonlight reflecting off the snow-covered mountainside. People were driving themselves to madness to cross those mountains. They were looking to the mountains for their salvation.

‘‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh
my help.’’
The psalmist seemed to have written her heart’s cry in this passage.
‘‘My help cometh from the Lord, which made
heaven and earth.’’

Gold wouldn’t comfort her in the loss of her loved ones, but God would. She felt her spirit take rest and smiled. Looking up at Adrik, she nodded. ‘‘It is well with my soul. Should my father have joined my mother, I will yet praise God.’’

He smiled. ‘‘You’ve found a treasure that many never find. Your pa would be proud.’’

Grace found herself nearly as restless in Peter’s cabin as she had been that first night aboard
Merry Maid
so many months ago. She was married! The very thought was only now beginning to sink in. Now, after washing up and clothing herself in her own feminine gown, now after realizing that this was to be her wedding night, Grace wondered if she’d done the right thing.

Everyone had said it was her only way out. No one seemed at all concerned that she was running away yet again. No one—not even Karen—had made mention that Peter had no interest in the same spiritual matters that were most vital to Grace.

Grace herself quickly cast those doubts aside. At least she tried to. God could work miracles. She had to trust that He would bring Peter to an understanding of the Gospel message— that His love would be revealed, drawing Peter to Him.

Grace clung to this hope. It had to be true; otherwise God would surely have given her another way out of the situation. Peter was there, convenient to her need and to the matter at hand. It had to have been orchestrated by God.

Wasn’t it?

No matter her determination to see this as a positive thing, Grace couldn’t help but be nagged by those haunting little doubts. Peter was unsaved. Not only that, he held an almost irreverent opinion of God. Peter was also domineering when it came to dealing with his own family. Would he be any less with Grace?

‘‘We hardly know each other,’’ Grace whispered. She nervously picked up her hairbrush and began working with a fury to comb through her long brown hair. ‘‘What have I done?’’

Her trembling made it difficult to handle the brush. The future before her felt overwhelming. Were it just the thoughts of her wedding night and what was to be expected of her there, she might have called it ‘‘marital jitters.’’ But this was so much more.

Martin Paxton would be livid when he learned of her deception. If Karen told him of the marriage, then Peter’s own family and their business would be at risk as well. If Paxton learned of her whereabouts, he just might come searching after her—he might not even mind that she and Peter were legally married.

Her heart ached for the counsel of her dear friend, or even her mother.
Oh, Mother, I wish we would have been closer. I
wish you would have understood my need for you sooner. How
you must grieve without Father
.

Tears sprung unbidden to her eyes, and it was in this state that Peter came to the room. He saw her face and the tears and seemed at once to worry that he was somehow to blame.

‘‘Did I do something wrong? Are you upset with me?’’

Grace shook her head and put the hairbrush aside. ‘‘I’m sorry. I suppose I’m just a bit overcome with all of this. I couldn’t help but think of my mother and father. Oh, Captain . . .’’ She looked down to the floor. ‘‘Peter,’’ she corrected herself. ‘‘I can’t help but worry about what Mr. Paxton is going to do when he learns of this.’’

‘‘He’s no doubt become completely aware. He has no power to hurt you anymore.’’

‘‘That’s not true,’’ Grace replied. ‘‘And you know it.’’

Peter came to her and gently touched her wet cheeks. ‘‘I can take care of us, Grace. Have some faith in me. I know what I’m doing.’’

Her conscience was pricked again. ‘‘What if we’ve done the wrong thing?’’ She started to mention the issue of faith, but Peter interjected before she could explain.

‘‘We love each other and this can only be the right thing. Two people who care about each other as much as we do should be together. You needn’t worry about Martin Paxton. I won’t let him bring harm to you.’’

‘‘And if he destroys your business? What then?’’

‘‘He won’t. He and father are too close. He only spoke out of anger. You’ll see. By your own admission you scarcely knew the man.’’

‘‘Yes, but in the short time I knew him, just look what he accomplished.’’

Peter shook his head and pulled Grace tenderly into his arms. ‘‘There’s only room here for you and me. Mr. Paxton will have to wait.’’

Grace gave in to the passion of his kiss. When he lifted her in his arms and carried her to his berth, she put aside her concerns and instead lost herself in the magic of their first night as man and wife. Surely God would make everything right.

Shortly before the dawn, Grace awoke to find Peter gone. Her body chilled at the absence of his warmth, she wrapped a heavy wool blanket around her flannel nightgown and snuggled against Peter’s pillow. The scent of her husband warmed her more than the blanket. She was married. Truly married. The thought both delighted and terrified her.

Sometime in the night, as they’d lain together, whispering and dreaming of the future, Peter had promised her a wedding band.

‘‘I feel bad that you had to supply your own wedding ring,’’
he’d commented. During the ceremony, Grace had slipped off a ring she’d been given for her sixteenth birthday and handed it to Peter. He’d lovingly put the ring on her left hand but later confessed to hating the fact that he’d nothing of his own to share with her.

As she’d faded into sleep, he’d told her to dream of him and the ring that he’d buy her. He promised her the most elaborate ring her heart might desire. But even now, wide awake with the memory, Grace knew her only dream was for a small gold band. A simple, understated pledge.

The idea of gold made her smile. They had traded in furs and gold at the Colton Trading Post. There had been enough gold passing back and forth across their counter that Grace could have had an unending number of rings made.
So many
dreams of gold,
she thought.
So many hopes pinned on a yellow
substance that could neither think nor feel
.

Oh, God,
she prayed, pulling the covers ever tighter,
keep
my eyes on you. Let me only desire you. Let me serve you faithfully,
no matter the price. And let Peter know you
.

She thought of her husband and hugged his pillow tight. ‘‘I love him so much, Lord. The wonder of his love is more than I ever expected.’’ She remembered his loving touch . . . the way he drew his hands through her hair . . . his lips on hers.

With these thoughts, sleep was impossible. Grace rose and quickly dressed and made her way to the deck in hopes of finding Peter.
I just need to see him,
she thought.
I just need to
make certain this isn’t a dream
.

The wind whipped mercilessly at her heavy wool skirts, but the glow of light just now touching the outline of the mountains drew Grace’s attention. The sky suddenly seemed to glow, and gradually the heavy blue-black of night was pulsating with a magenta and lavender. Grace stood transfixed at the deck rail. The sun rose in a promise of hope for the new day. The light offered a blessing in colors too wonderful for human hands to have painted.

Looking skyward, Grace thought of the psalms. ‘‘ ‘Unto thee lift I up mine eyes, O thou that dwellest in the heavens.’ ’’

‘‘Have you taken to talking to yourself, Grace?’’

She turned sharply to find Peter watching her curiously. ‘‘I was just inspired by the beauty of this sunrise.’’

He smiled and moved to stand beside her. Opening his arms to her, he wrapped her snug against his woolen coat. ‘‘I was feeling the same, only my inspiration comes from you. You’re quite lovely, Mrs. Colton.’’

Grace would not allow him to make her the focus of the morning. ‘‘God did a wondrous thing out there. The colors and the mountains—the skies and the way the night is turning to day. I couldn’t help but praise Him for what He has done. I praise God even more that I can appreciate such divine architecture.’’

Peter didn’t seem inclined to contradict her feelings, and Grace took that as a positive sign that things would fall into place as they were meant to be. She turned in his arms and leaned back against his chest. She didn’t want to miss seeing a single thing. It was as if she had been given new sight.

Slowly the ship sliced through the icy cold waters of the passage.
Merry Maid
was taking them south to freedom and a new home in a land Grace had never seen. Her heart held great hope for what could be, and God held her heart. It was enough, Grace thought and smiled in the strength of this love. It was enough.