Twilight's Serenade (17 page)

Jealousy ate at her all the way back to the house.
Don’t
rush to judgment,
she chided herself. But it was impossible not to think the worst. If her brother was dead, it would be very natural for Yuri to marry Phoebe. He knew the boat-building business and he could combine his children with theirs to make a large family. Yuri had even been in love with Phoebe before she married Dalton.

“It would all fit so perfectly,” she said to no one in particular. “The girls would have a family. Yuri would have a business and a wife. And Phoebe wouldn’t have to be alone.”

She was practically marching now, her anger rising by the minute. “But Dalton isn’t dead. At least we don’t know that he is. It’s not right that Yuri should be holding Phoebe. It’s not right at all.”

By the time she arrived at the cabin, the girls were dressed for bed and Kay was just drying out the tub.

“Mama!” Laura said as she came running. “Kay washed my hair.”

Britta smiled. “Wasn’t that nice of her?”

Laura nodded and thrust her head toward Britta. “Smell me! She used lab-a-dur.”

“Lavender,” Kay called over her shoulder.

Britta inhaled deeply the child’s scent. “Lovely.” Laura beamed.

Kay put the tub away and returned to take up the wet towels. “I’ll hang these on the line on my way home.”

“Thank you so much. I appreciate your help.”

“So where’s Yuri?” Kay asked.

“He was . . . uh, busy.”

“I know Phoebe said they were trying to get that cannery order completed. I’ll bring some supper over for him, if you like. You can keep it warm on the back of the stove.”

“No, that’s all right. There’s enough for him to eat right here.” Her voice sounded harsh even though she hadn’t meant to reveal her anger.

Kay eyed her with a raised brow. “Something wrong?”

“No. There’s nothing wrong.” She lifted Laura in her arms. “Is Darya already in bed?”

It was obvious Kay didn’t believe her, but she didn’t press Britta for information. “She is. I was just about to dry Laura’s hair by the fire.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Britta said, moving to where Kay had already lit the stack of wood.

Kay followed her and handed her a dry towel and a brush while balancing the wet ones over her other arm. “You don’t make a good liar, Britta. You may be good about keeping your mouth shut where others would be spilling their heart out, but you don’t hide it well.”

“I don’t believe in lying.”

“Then you’d better stop telling me nothing is wrong when it’s obvious you’re upset.”

Her shoulders sagged a bit, and Britta told herself it was just because Laura was getting bigger and taking more effort to lift. Still, she couldn’t look Kay in the eye.

“All right, so everything isn’t perfect. Life is fraught with difficulties, as my mother is always saying. Even so, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Kay shrugged. “I don’t guess you have to. I’ll pray for you all the same.” She walked to the front door. “Just like I always do.”

Britta felt a momentary sense of guilt. Kay had always been a good friend to her. “I’m sorry, Kay. I don’t mean to . . .” She put Laura down on the stool in front of the fire and straightened. “I’d appreciate those prayers. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel like talking.”

Kay smiled. “I’ll be around if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

Britta worked out the tangles of Laura’s blond hair and nearly had the long length dry when Yuri finally entered the house. She couldn’t help but look up, and when she did, she saw Yuri smile.

“Don’t you two look pretty tonight.”

She knew he was saying it mostly for Laura’s benefit. The little girl got up from her perch and ran to Yuri. “Papa. My hair got washed. Kay did it.”

“And she did a very nice job.” He ran his fingers though the long waves, but his gaze was ever on Britta. “You might want to pay a visit to Phoebe.”

She startled. The nerve of him bringing up Phoebe! Her thoughts must have betrayed her. Yuri put Laura down and suggested she go get a book for him to read to her. Once she’d gone, he walked to where Britta sat.

“She’s losing hope. She started to cry when we talked about Dalton. She’s so afraid, and though I tried to comfort her, I know you or Lydia would probably do a better job.”

Britta felt ashamed of her misjudgment. She looked at the fire. “I . . . suppose . . . maybe Mother and I could take the girls for a visit tomorrow.”

“I know she’d probably appreciate it. But maybe you could refrain from telling her I sent you. She’s proud—just like the rest of you Lindquist women.” He walked away without offering anything more. Britta felt chastised just the same. She had jumped to conclusions and not only misjudged Yuri’s actions, but Phoebe’s.

“Will I ever learn?” she muttered under her breath.

Chapter 13

B
ritta looked out the window at the sound of a wagon and noted the speed with which it approached the house. Her mother was already out the door, and when Britta stepped outside to join her, she could hear Phoebe’s voice yelling, “They’re alive! They’re hurt, but they’re alive!”

Soon everyone had gathered together, hugging and crying in joy and relief. The telegram from the private investigator was passed around, and almost immediately, Lydia began questioning Phoebe and Yuri. “Don’t you think we should go to them? I mean, the telegram is so brief. It only states that they were injured and should be able to travel within the month. We should go to San Francisco and escort them home.”

“I don’t know that they would let you into town,” Brenton declared. “I’m almost certain the town is still under martial law. They might be unwilling to allow you to join the men.”

“That’s unreasonable. They need us,” Lydia replied.

“I think we should send our own telegram,” Phoebe interjected. “Let’s ask the private investigator what we should do.”

“That’s reasonable thinking,” Brenton said with a nod. “After all, he didn’t say exactly where the men were. They most likely have been moved from San Francisco due to the destruction.”

Mother seemed hard-pressed to wait the additional time, but nevertheless nodded. “I suppose it’s all we can do. After all, we wouldn’t know where to go once we arrived.”

“I’m just so glad to know that they’re alive and well,” Britta said. “At least, nearly well.” She went to her mother and hugged her again.

“It’s true,” Lydia agreed. “I’m not taking time to be thankful for what God has provided. I need to remember that I would have been happy just for this telegram yesterday or two weeks ago.”

“Or a month ago,” Phoebe threw out.

Britta moved away from the gathering to check on the cake she and Laura had made. Finding it ready to come out of the oven, she took hold of the pan with her apron. The sweet scent of cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves filled the air. Applesauce cake was one of her favorites, and this one looked to be perfect.

She couldn’t help but think of what her mother had said about helping Yuri to fall in love with her. Britta had no confidence in her emotions, but she was quite strong in her beliefs about God and His plan for her life. She felt certain, now more than ever, that she and Yuri were meant to be together.

“Do you need help?” Brenton asked, coming up from behind her.

“No. I have everything under control.”

Brenton started to go, but Britta stopped him. “I wonder if I might have a word with you in the woodshop.”

He paused for a moment, then grinned. “But of course.”

“Thank you. Go there now, if you will, and I will join you shortly.” She left him and hurried into the living room, where Yuri and Lydia were standing beside Phoebe as she penned their telegram message.

“Yuri?”

He left Phoebe’s side to come to her. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I would like to talk to you. I wonder if you would mind meeting me in the woodshop for a few minutes.”

He glanced back at Lydia and Phoebe, then nodded. “I suppose I can.”

“I appreciate it greatly. Go ahead, and I’ll be right there. I just need to make certain that Kay can watch the children.” Yuri nodded, and Britta left him to make his excuses.

Kay was talking to Theodore Robbins when Britta found her. It amused Britta to see her friend there, arms crossed as if standing her ground about some topic.

“Excuse me, Kay, but I wondered if you would be willing to watch the girls for a few minutes. I need to talk to Brenton and Yuri.”

“It’s about time,” Kay replied.

Britta threw her friend a smirk. “The Lord’s timing is never too early or too late.”

“Yes, but a Lindquist’s timing can be. This talk is long overdue.”

Theodore looked at the women oddly. “Is there something I can do to help?”

“No,” Britta said. “This is something I have to take care of myself.” Kay was grinning from ear to ear.

“So go already. I’ll go see to the girls. Laura and Connie are on the porch still. I can see them peeking over the sides from time to time.” Kay pointed. “Where’s Darya?”

“Inside. She was playing on the blanket by the fireplace.”

Kay nodded. “I’ll go right in.”

Reaching out, Britta touched Kay’s arm. “Thank you. You could pray for me, too.”

“Silly, I’ve been doing that since I first came to this family. Seemed like you needed more than most.”

Britta laughed. “No doubt I did.” She nodded toward Theodore. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Making her way to the woodshop, Britta whispered a prayer for courage. The dim light revealed Yuri and Brenton standing not far from the double door entry. Yuri was leaning casually against one of the supporting posts, while Brenton was pacing back and forth.

“Thank you both for coming here,” Britta said. She paused to stop in front of them, and this brought Brenton to her side.

“What is it? What is wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong, but it is very overdue.” She stepped away to put some space between them. “I should have done this a long time ago.”

“Done what?” Brenton asked. “I don’t think I understand.” He looked to Yuri, who only shrugged.

“First, I want you to know I care a great deal about both of you,” Britta said. “And, while I love music, it’s not the passion for me that it is for you, Brenton.”

“But I thought—”

She held up her hand. “Please hear me out. I need to say this and be done with it. Otherwise, I might not ever have another chance, and it’s important.”

“Go ahead, Britta,” Yuri encouraged.

Brenton nodded. “Yes, please.”

Britta clasped her hands together. “Brenton, I cannot marry you. I do not love you—at least not in the way I should love my husband. I tried to give your proposal honest consideration, but by coming home, I actually did the one thing that ensured I couldn’t move forward to marry you.”

“But why, Britta? I know you love Alaska, but I already told you we would come back often. I promise.” He went to her and tried to take hold of her hand, but she refused. “In time you would learn to love me—as you do this place.”

“No, Brenton, I wouldn’t. And that’s why it wouldn’t be fair to marry you. I’ve given my heart to another.”

He backed away as if she’d struck him. “Who? When did this happen?”

Britta looked at Yuri. “It happened when I was seven years old and Yuri saved my life.” Now it was Yuri’s turn to look stunned. His eyes widened as he took a step toward her. Britta refused to look away, although the very sight of his gentle, surprised expression made her weak in the knees.

“I love you, Yuri. I always have. It’s the reason I left Sitka when you returned with Marsha as your wife. I couldn’t bear the pain of seeing you two together. I thought that if I went far enough away, I would forget you—forget how I felt. But I couldn’t. When Brenton proposed, I knew I couldn’t say yes to him without coming home first—to see you.”

She turned back to Brenton. “I’m sorry. I never meant to lead you on. This is the reason I told you I needed time, and this is also the reason I must say no.”

Without another word, Britta walked out of the woodshop and kept walking until she reached the porch, where Laura and Connie were still playing. Kay was sitting in the rocker at the opposite end, bouncing Darya on her knee.

“You sure were fast,” she commented as Britta retrieved the baby.

“I said what needed to be said and got out of there. Let them think on it for a while.” Darya squealed in delight. “I think she approves,” Britta said with a laugh.