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Authors: Tracie Peterson

Twilight's Serenade (29 page)

BOOK: Twilight's Serenade
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But I didn’t,
Britta reasoned.
I loved him first. I went away
when I learned he was married. I tried to fall in love with another
man. I didn’t sit around, pining for Yuri. I loved him—that’s true
enough. But I’ve always loved him. I’ll always love him.

Surely God wouldn’t take Darya as punishment for having loved Yuri. She sat staring at the tiny casket.

“The psalmist says in Psalm 116,” the pastor said, turning in his Bible, “ ‘I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications. Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live. The sorrows of death compassed me. . . .’

“We have found trouble and sorrow here on earth. The sorrows of death compass us and leave us with the pain of hell’s hold. But there is release—there is hope beyond this moment of misery. I speak here today to those left behind, those who mourn the passing of this infant girl. God has not left you to bear this sadness alone. He has not abandoned you.”

Then where is He?
Britta looked skyward.
Where are you,
God?

She thought back to those exhausting nights when both Darya and Laura had been trying to adjust to life at the Lindquist house. Some nights she had begged God to help the children sleep—to give them peace and let them feel safe. Rest had been so important then; now there seemed to be no rest, no peace.

As if on cue, the pastor continued reading from the Bible. “ ‘Then called I upon the name of the Lord; O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul. Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; yea, our God is merciful. The Lord preserveth the simple: I was brought low, and he helped me. Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.’ ”

Britta refused to hear anything more. How could her soul return to rest? How could she call upon the Lord for deliverance when she felt He had turned away from her? The psalmist might have found comfort in those words, but Britta wondered how she could possibly feel the same way.

Then she remembered that David, too, had lost a child. That child had been the result of his sin with Bathsheba. God had taken that child, just as He had taken Darya. Why did the innocent suffer?

But in this case, the innocent didn’t suffer,
she thought. The innocent babies were whisked away from the pains and sicknesses of this life. Those children were spared the grief that life on earth could bring. The innocent didn’t suffer . . . but she did.

I wasn’t innocent. I made a vow to God and pressed Yuri to
do the same, not knowing whether it would ever be fulfilled. I’m
paying the consequences of my own sin.

She buried her face in her hands and bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. The pain did nothing to take her focus from the accusations in her heart. Yuri put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Britta didn’t try to stop him. She needed the warmth of his touch, even though there was little comfort to be had.

Her only thought was to endure to the end of the service and then go home. Home to sleep and forget the pain of her loss. Home to hide away from the questions and pitying glances of her loved ones.

The pastor continued to speak, but Britta refused to listen. She waited until the final prayers were said, until the men lowered the tiny coffin into the small grave beside the spot where Marsha Belikov had been buried eight months earlier, before hearing so much as the breeze blowing through the trees.

“I’ll take Laura back with us,” Phoebe said, coming to Yuri and Britta. “She can play with Connie, and then we’ll bring her home for supper.”

“Thank you,” Yuri replied.

Britta nodded but could scarcely meet her sister-in-law’s eyes. Instead, she glanced to where her father was helping her mother into their carriage. They had ridden there together as a family, but all she wanted now was to be left alone.

“I’ll walk back,” she said, nodding toward the carriage. “You go ahead with them.”

Yuri didn’t argue. He seemed to understand that she needed some time to herself. She hated closing him out of this moment in her life, but Britta couldn’t deal with the guilt that consumed her. Somehow, all of this was her fault and she had to figure out a way to make it right.

One by one, the funeral-goers left and Britta stood by herself at the grave. She let the grief pour over her as she remembered losing Illiyana, Aunt Zee, and now the baby. It hurt so much to have loved and lost them. Their passing left holes in her heart that would never be filled.

“Only God can fill the empty spaces of our hearts,”
her mother had once told her.
“Whether those empty places come about
because of death or betrayal, God is the only one who can make
broken hearts whole again.”

Britta shook her head. God seemed so far away.

“I didn’t want you to walk home alone.”

Britta turned and found her father standing only a few feet away. She suddenly felt like a little girl again—scared and confused. Britta rushed into her father’s arms as she might have done twenty years earlier.

“This hurts so much,” she said, letting her tears escape.

“I know.” He held her close and stroked her back as he had when she’d been young.

For several minutes, she stood there crying—desperate to find solace and hope. Her father had always been such a pillar of strength for her.

“I don’t understand,” she said, finally pulling away. “Where is God in all of this, Father? I just don’t see how He can possibly be here—how He can still care.”

Her father put an arm around her and led her from the grave. They walked toward the road, leaving the cemetery behind them.

“I can’t give you answers I don’t have,” he said softly. “But I can assure you that God is still here. He still cares.”

She wanted to believe him. “How do you know?”

“Because He said He would never leave us or forsake us.”

“I feel forsaken. I feel betrayed. God has taken the life of that baby and left me to bear the guilt of my sins.”

“And what sin would that be?”

She hung her head. “Yuri and I made a vow to God and to each other when we married, and yet we were not honest about it. Yuri didn’t know if he could ever fulfill that vow, and I forced him to pledge it anyway.”

“And you think God is punishing you by taking Darya?”

She looked up and met her father’s look of disbelief. “Well, why not? God disciplines His children. You told me that long ago. You said the Bible says that He disciplines those He loves.”

“Discipline and the death of a child are two different things, Britta. It would be a great injustice to suppose they were one and the same.”

“But what of David and Bathsheba, Father? They sinned, and God allowed their child to die.”

He thought on this for a moment. “I don’t pretend to know all the answers, Britta. You’re right, God did take David’s child. Such a punishment seems harsh, yet He later gives David and Bathsheba another son. Solomon becomes an even greater, wiser king than his father. God’s people were blessed under his rule.”

“I don’t understand. God is all-powerful. He has the power of life and death in His hands, isn’t that true?”

Her father nodded. “God is omnipotent.”

“So God didn’t have to let Darya die.”

“No. I suppose He didn’t.”

Britta looked back at the ground. “But He let her die all the same.”

“Just as so many have died before her.”

“Yes. So many people I’ve cared about.” Britta stopped and turned to her father. “I can’t see the love in that. I can’t see the mercy or the promise of never being forsaken. I feel alone and hopeless. My pain is so great that I can scarcely breathe.”

“I know. I’ve felt that pain many times. When Dalton was taken and your mother nearly died; when your brother died; when my first wife died.”

“Mother told me about the baby—my brother. Why did no one ever speak of it before?”

He shrugged. “I suppose that pain you’re speaking of caused us to hide it away. Dalton was too little to remember, and the baby lived only a very short time. He’s buried up in the mountain behind the house. Your mother used to walk up there from time to time, but she preferred we not speak about it, so we didn’t.”

“I don’t want to be that way about Darya. She was such a good baby. I loved being her mother.” Britta wiped at the tears with the back of her hand. “I’m just so afraid.”

Her father again opened his arms to her, and Britta stepped into his embrace and let him hold her. “What if it happens again?” she whispered.

“Britta, you can’t live life in fear of death. Death will come to each of us. It’s a part of our world. If you live in fear—if you spend your days watching for death at every turn—you’ll never know happiness again. And sweetheart, you have so many reasons to be happy. Laura, for one.”

“I know she needs me. She doesn’t understand why I’ve been so sad. I tried to talk to her about Darya and how I miss her, but she just patted my hand and said that Darya was safe with Jesus. She trusts God more than I do, I suppose.”

“She’s a child. It’s easy to trust when you’re little. Remember how you felt as a girl? You weren’t worried about much of anything. I think you were pretty carefree and easygoing.”

“Until Illiyana had to move away,” Britta said, looking up.

“But even then you weren’t afraid. You and Illiyana went up across the mountain to try and get the help of a Tlingit shaman.”

She smiled ever so slightly. “I was afraid when I fell over the side.”

“But even then you were brave. You have to be brave now, as well. I’m not going to tell you it will be easy, because it won’t. I won’t promise you that if you get through this you’ll never have to go through such things again. I can’t make those kinds of promises.”

“I wish you could.”

“So do I, darling.” He smiled and took hold of her hand. “If I could, I would do just that. If it were in my power to see that nothing bad would ever happen to the ones I love, you would never suffer again.”

They started walking again and Britta clung to her father’s strong grip upon her hand. It was all that kept her from feeling as though she might sink down into the mud and be lost forever. She was so very tired. So weary of the day and all that it represented.

Father seemed to understand, as he always did. He dropped his hold and put his arm around her shoulder instead. “I’d carry you if I could—just like when you were little.”

“No one can carry me now.” Her voice betrayed great sorrow.

“God can,” her father offered, hugging her close. “God can.”

Marston Gray stood at the banker’s desk and extended his gloved hand. The check he held was for ten thousand dollars. “I would like to deposit this amount in the account number I gave you. I would also like you to give me a balance on the account afterward.”

“Very good, sir. If you’ll take a seat, I’ll be right back.”

Marston sank into the leather chair and rubbed his aching knee. The weather had turned damp and cold. Not exactly a novelty for Seattle, but it seemed to cut Marston to the bone.

When all of this is settled,
he told himself,
I will head to a
warmer climate.

The banker returned and handed Marston a piece of paper. “I have made the deposit and have written the information you requested on the back of this paper. Please know that your funds will not be available until we are able to clear the check with your bank in Omaha.”

“Yes, I understand.” When everything had started falling apart in Kansas City, Marston had moved his money to several other cities, Omaha housing one of his larger deposits.

Getting to his feet, Marston glanced down at the ten-thousand-dollar figure written on the paper. He turned the sheet over and saw the bank’s deposit information. “I don’t understand,” he told the man. “I asked to know the full balance of this account.”

“Yes, sir. Ten thousand dollars is the full amount—the amount you deposited today.”

“But I thought this account was an open account owned by my brother, Dalton Lindquist.”

“Yes, sir, it is.”

“I know for a fact he has a vast fortune. As do his mother and sister. I hardly understand how this can therefore be the sum total of what is held in the account.”

The man smiled. “I can see your concern, but fear not. Mr. Lindquist opened this account especially for your transactions. His other accounts are separate.”

Marston clenched his jaw and tried hard to look unmoved by the man’s statement. “I see. Thank you for that clarification.” He picked up his hat and cane. “I will check back with you to confirm that the funds have been released.”

He turned without waiting for the man to comment. He pushed his hat down firmly and nodded as the doorman opened the nearly floor-to-ceiling door. “Good day, sir.”

“Good day.”

But it wasn’t a good day, and Marston was beginning to feel a deep annoyance at the situation unfolding before him. Dalton was smarter than he’d given him credit for . . . or perhaps it was just plain dumb luck. Either way, Marston would have to rethink his plan—and quickly. It was only going to be a matter of time until his house of cards began to collapse, and he intended to be long gone before that occurred.

BOOK: Twilight's Serenade
10.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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