Twilight's Serenade (32 page)

“I tried to, but the line is down. Apparently the cable is broken somewhere along the way. They assured me it happens more often than not. When the line is restored, they will send the telegram.”

“This is most annoying.” Marston knew he needed to get out of town immediately. All he needed was for Dalton to get wind of this and figure out that Marston was attempting to take money from his account. Money that definitely didn’t belong to him. “I suppose I shall have to simply take back my ten thousand dollars and hope that I can still make the proper investments in California. If you have your carriage, I’d appreciate a ride to the bank.”

“That won’t help you. I mean, I can give you a ride. That isn’t the problem.”

Marston narrowed his eyes. “Then what are you prattling on about?”

“The money. You can’t take out the money.”

“I already understood that point. The larger funds are off limits . . . temporarily.” He smiled. “It’s an inconvenience, but I’m hopeful that the ten thousand I deposited will cover the need. It can act as security until the remainder can be obtained.”

Redley looked at Marston as if he’d suddenly grown horns. “No, you can’t do that. The money cannot be withdrawn.”

The terrible feeling of having been caught in the middle of a prank began to sink in. Marston kept hearing the words the younger man said, but they weren’t making sense—until now.

“Are you telling me that I cannot withdraw my own money— the money I deposited a few weeks ago?”

“That’s correct. When Mr. Lindquist set up the account, he put the same provision on it that he placed on the others. He would have to be notified of any transaction, be it transfers or deposits or withdrawals. Deposits were to be allowed under any condition, but all other dealings would have to first receive his approval.”

Marston thought he might well be sick. Ten thousand dollars was now lost to him, and all because of his brother’s lack of trust. He was seething. The cash he’d brought with him was diminishing at an alarming rate, and he needed to be able to access more soon. Now, however, he would have to leave Seattle and do so quickly, or the law might catch up to him.

“I suppose,” he finally said, turning away to walk to the window, “that I have no choice but to wait.” He tried to sound unconcerned. “I will wire my associates and explain the situation. Perhaps they can even send confirmation to my brother and hurry the matter along.”

“I am sorry for the delay,” Redley said. Marston could hear the relief in his tone. “It will allow me, however, to give at least a small amount of notice to my manager. I felt rather bad leaving without at least speaking to him personally.”

Marston glanced at the man and nodded. “I will leave you to that matter, then, while I attend to the other.”

Redley smiled. “I hope this won’t change things between us.”

“Of course not.” Marston smiled, as well. “We will continue as I always planned.”

Britta awoke to the feel of Yuri’s arms around her. She stiffened and tried to pull away, but Yuri would have no part of it.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, chuckling.

“I . . . you . . . frightened me.”

He kissed the nape of her neck. “No need to be frightened. It’s just me, and it’s cold so I thought I would snuggle up here. You’re nice and warm.”

Britta felt him trail kisses along her ear and jaw. She trembled at his touch, longed for it, but in the back of her mind, her fears resurfaced. Fears of finding herself pregnant—of bearing a child and watching it die.

She again tried to pull away. “Don’t. Please.”

“What’s wrong, Britta?”

Ashamed to admit the truth, she made up an excuse. “I don’t feel well. I need to get up.”

He let her go, and Britta hurried into her robe. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry about me.”

She hurried from the room and paused momentarily in the hall. Where could she go? What could she do? It was the middle of the night. Slowly, she walked to the kitchen and tried to settle her nerves. Britta lit a lamp and placed it on the table. She then poured herself a glass of water and sat down to think. What was she going to do?

“Are you feeling better?” Yuri asked.

She hadn’t heard him, and for just a moment, she wanted to run as far from him as possible. How could she possibly hope to explain her fears? How could she expect him to understand?

“A little,” she whispered.

He came to sit across from her. “Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head and sipped the water. She couldn’t even meet his gaze. “I’m fine. Really.” She struggled for something more to say. “It won’t be long until Thanksgiving, and then Laura’s birthday. After that, Christmas.”

“True enough, but none of that matters as much as knowing what I can do for you right now, Britta.”

She forced herself to look up and give him a weak smile. “It will matter when there’s no Thanksgiving feast on the table and you’re hungry.”

“Britta,” he said softly, almost pleading.

She trembled and focused on the glass of water.

“Please let me help you.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “You can’t.”

“I find that hard to believe. I’m your husband, Britta. I want to make this better for you.”

And that’s the problem,
she thought.
You’re my husband and
you’re asking more of me than I’m ready to give.

“I know you care,” she replied finally. “I’m glad you do. It’s just that I’m . . . I want to be able to put this behind me. Believe me, please.”

“I do. I understand.”

She looked at the table. “If anyone can, I’m sure you do.”

“You’re afraid.”

Those two simple words hit her like nothing she’d ever imagined. “Yes.” She could barely speak.

He reached out and covered her hand with his. “Me too.”

Her head snapped up. “You?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“But what do you have to be afraid of?” She knew her own fears. Fears of having another child and losing it. Fears of Laura dying. Even fears of Yuri meeting with an untimely death.

“I’m afraid I’m losing you, and I’ve only just allowed myself to love you.”

She shook her head with great purpose. “No. You aren’t losing me. I still love you, Yuri. I will always love you. You don’t need to be afraid of that.”

“But you’ve been distancing yourself from me. When I try to talk to you, you want nothing to do with me. When I try to hold you—to kiss you . . .” His words faded.

Britta swallowed her pride and blurted, “I’m terrified I’ll get pregnant.” Once the words were out, she couldn’t stop the flow. Getting to her feet, she knocked over the water glass but did nothing to retrieve it. “I’m afraid I’ll have your baby, and that baby will die just as Darya did. I’m afraid Laura will die.” She began to sob.

“She could get sick. She could get the measles or some other awful disease. She could die. You could die.” Britta buried her face in her hands. “I can’t bear this. I can’t bear the thought of what might happen.”

Yuri was immediately at her side. He took her into his arms and let her cry. He didn’t try to stop her tears or to speak words of comfort; he simply held her and waited for the anguish to pass.

Still not speaking, Yuri led her to the couch and drew her down beside him. He sat there holding her, and in the comfort of his arms, time seemed to stand still. Britta held back from speaking for fear the spell would be broken and the consolation would end. Why couldn’t they just stay there forever?

“It seems,” Yuri said, breaking the silence, “that we are both afraid.”

“Terrified,” she whispered.

He raised her face to meet his. “God hasn’t given us a spirit of fear. The Bible says that much. I think it’s in the second book of Timothy.”

“I remember that verse,” Britta said, nodding. “He’s given us a spirit of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”

Yuri smiled. “Seems to me we’re going about this all wrong. We’re trying to do this all on our own. We need the Lord to help us.”

“But I can’t talk to God. I’m angry at Him, Yuri. Angry that He would let Darya die.”

“I know, sweetheart. But more important, He knows.”

She looked at him as the truth of his words sunk in. Of course, God knew how she felt. God knew everything—it wasn’t like she could keep Him from knowing her heart. Yet she certainly had tried. The very comfort and hope she needed was in Jesus, yet she was hiding from Him as if she could avoid the situation altogether.

“I don’t know what to do next,” she said, feeling like a little child. “This is just too hard.”

“I know.” He smoothed back her damp hair. “Without God, it is too hard for either of us—even if we try to face this together. We need Him, Britta. He’s the only one who can help us through.”

She nodded and felt her strength give out. But even as she felt overcome by her own weakness, Britta felt a warmth of hope stir deep within. Maybe in giving up her own fight—giving up trying to face this on her own—maybe only then could God step in and heal their hurt.

Please let it be so,
she prayed.
I cannot bear this sorrow any
longer.

Chapter 26

December 1906

D
espite the stomach discomfort he’d been suffering since Cyrus Redley’s announcement, Marston decided the best thing he could do would be to return to Sitka and explain himself to Dalton. He’d simply arrive and tell Dalton that it was all a terrible misunderstanding—that the young clerk had thought Marston wanted to withdraw money rather than deposit. He hated the idea of making the trip to Sitka, but he figured a face-to-face explanation would go a long way to prove his sincerity. After all, who would expect him to show up and face his accusers?

Marston downed a large spoonful of laudanum and waited for the medicine to ease his pain. The doctors had to be wrong about the diagnosis. He simply didn’t believe he had cancer— this was surely nothing more than an ulcer. His own father had suffered with such ulcers, so why should he be any different?

The clock struck one and with the chime came a knock upon the door. It was Cyrus Redley, whom Marston had summoned. The man seemed relieved to have Marston’s attention once again.

“I feared perhaps you would be unhappy with me because I was unable to get approval for your transaction.”

“Nonsense,” Marston assured him. “I realize that you are only one man. You can hardly take responsibility for everything that happens at the bank. I was hopeful you could have canceled the telegram to my brother, but it’s of no concern. I’ve decided to go to Sitka myself and explain the situation. I will arrange for Dalton to return with me or send his written approval, and that way, we can expedite my transaction.”

“That would be a perfect solution,” Redley assured him. “With your brother here, there would be no doubt of his intentions.”

“Exactly,” Marston agreed. “I’m hopeful you won’t mind driving me to the docks. I have just enough time to get there before my ship departs.”

“Of course,” Redley said. “I would even accompany you, if you wished.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll return before you know it. In the meanwhile, keep your job at the bank. It will allow you to keep an eye on my money.”

Redley nodded and went to retrieve Marston’s suitcase. “I am happy to do so.”