Twilight's Serenade (7 page)

“No, but I will soon,” she said, deciding to try the straightforward approach.

“She’s not going to go,” Kay said, sitting back with her arms crossed. “She won’t leave the children. She hasn’t even picked up her violin since she came home. She spends all her time with the children.”

“I don’t blame you,” Phoebe declared. “They are beautiful little girls. Darya is especially charming. You should marry and have children of your own. You’re a natural mother, Britta.”

Perhaps she had at last found an ally. “I had a lot of practice in helping with your children. I always enjoyed being with my niece and nephews. And Connie is a delightful companion for Laura. The two seem to enjoy each other’s company.” She looked out across the lawn to find the girls racing toward the forest’s edge. Turning back to her family, she smiled. “Mother, didn’t you say you just received a letter from Kjerstin?”

“I did indeed. It seems there is some thought that they might head to the Aleutian Islands. If they do, she promises they will come here first for a visit. I’m torn between wanting to see them and wanting them to forsake going so far away.”

“I suppose they must go where they feel God is taking them,” Phoebe replied. She sighed and put down her cup. “I do wish we would hear something from the men. I checked at the telegraph office, but there was nothing.”

“Kjell said they would send word when they left San Francisco. He hoped to leave no later than the twentieth. If we still haven’t heard by then, we can always send a telegram to the Palace Hotel, where they are staying.”

“If they don’t make it home for Rachel’s birthday, they will answer for it,” Phoebe declared.

“Surely they’ll be back by the thirtieth,” Britta said. “I know Father intended to be home before then.”

“Dalton did, too. He has an order to build several small skiffs for the cannery. I know he wanted to get right on them. And speaking of getting home, I should probably go,” Phoebe announced. “The children will be coming home from school soon, and I need to get supper on.”

She got to her feet and called for Connie. Mother rose as well and put her hand on Phoebe’s arm. “Don’t fret over them. They will return to us quickly.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Phoebe said.

With her playmate leaving, Laura quickly made her way to Britta and crawled up on her lap. Britta pushed back the child’s windblown blond hair. “And for you, little miss, it’s time for a nap.”

“Mama take a nap, too?” Laura asked.

“Not today, sweetie.” She got to her feet cradling the child. “Come on, I’ll tuck you in.” Laura didn’t protest but instead clung to Britta’s neck.

“I think we should gather these things,” Mother said to Kay. “Looks like it may rain any minute.”

Britta hoped her mother and Kay would back off with their questions and comments about her decision. What she most wanted was to see Yuri again.
If only I could see him and speak with
him,
she thought,
then I would know what choice to make.

She deposited Laura on the bed and untied her shoes. “Shall I read you a story about Joseph and his coat of many colors?”

“Yes,” Laura said, nodding. “You read me a story.” Britta smiled and pulled the shoes from Laura’s feet.

“Now you lie back, and I’ll cover you up.” Laura yawned and eased back on the pillow. Britta could see that she was fighting sleep but knew the story would calm her.

Just then, she heard Darya fussing downstairs. Apparently her naptime was over and she wanted to be fed. Britta almost laughed aloud. It seemed the children had a way of timing their wakeful hours to be just opposite each other. Britta seldom found a free moment unless she allowed her mother or Kay to take over, and she hated to do that. She enjoyed every minute with the girls.

“They keep me from thinking too much,” she admitted as she went to retrieve the Bible. She would let her mother tend to the baby for a few minutes. It shouldn’t be long before Laura was asleep, she reasoned.

Opening to Genesis, Britta began. “This is the story of Joseph. Now Joseph was a boy who had many older brothers.” Laura yawned again and was just starting to close her eyes when a knock sounded lightly on the door. It was Kay.

“You need to come downstairs right now.”

“Is something wrong with the baby?”

“No.” Kay shook her head as if to emphasize the words. “Your mother just said to come.”

Laura sat up. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll be right back,” Britta promised. “You can hold the Bible if you promise to be careful.”

Laura didn’t look at all pleased but finally acquiesced. Britta got to her feet and followed Kay into the hallway. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

They headed down the stairs, but Kay maintained her silence. Britta was furious. “Will you please tell me what’s going on? I don’t like—” She fell silent when she saw who was standing by the door.

“Yuri.”

Chapter 5

S
eeing Yuri again . . . Britta’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing with questions. Where had he been? What had he been doing? What would he do about the children?

Could he ever love me?

“It’s good to have you back in Sitka,” her mother said. She was cradling Darya in her arms, and Britta wondered if her mother had already told Yuri about Marsha and the baby.

“How long have you been back?” Britta asked.

“I just got here. I saw Evie and Joshua at the dock. Apparently they just came in from Seattle. They said to tell you all that they’d drop by soon for a visit. Then I passed Phoebe on the way. She said I needed to stop here rather than go to the cabin. She said you would need to speak with me.” He smiled at Britta. “I didn’t know you were back in Sitka.”

His comment startled her. Britta didn’t realize he’d even been aware of her absence. “I’ve been back since January,” she replied.

She considered how to tell him about his wife. It was clear Yuri didn’t know about Marsha.

“Why don’t we sit,” her mother directed. She led the way and took her place by the fire in the rocking chair. Kay brought her a bottle for the baby, then quickly disappeared. Lydia began to feed Darya as Yuri and Britta settled on opposite ends of the couch.

“I didn’t know you’d had another baby,” Yuri said, looking at Lydia.

Britta exchanged a look with her mother. “Yuri, the baby doesn’t belong to Mother.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Yours?”

She shook her head. “Yuri, something bad happened while you were gone. I can’t begin to even find the words.” She threw her mother a pleading look.

“Yuri, Marsha is gone. She died giving birth to this baby.”

His eyes widened as he took in the news. Britta knew from what everyone said that there was no real love lost between him and Marsha, yet still it had to be a shock.

“I named her Darya, after your mother,” Britta offered.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t know she was pregnant. She never said.” He appeared deeply troubled. “And Laura?”

As if on cue the child came bounding into the room. “Mama! I scared.” Laura climbed onto Britta’s lap and hugged her neck tightly.

Britta was completely embarrassed by the situation. “I . . . well . . . I need to explain. We brought the children here and I’ve been caring for them. Laura has attached herself to me, and despite trying to get her to stop, she insists on calling me Mama. I’m sorry. I do not mean for her to disrespect her mother’s memory.”

Yuri shook his head. “She was never much of a . . .” He fell silent.

She knew what he was going to say and nodded. “Laura, say hello to your papa.”

The child peeked out from where she’d buried her face against Britta’s neck. She studied Yuri for a moment, then hid again.

“What happened to Marsha?” he asked.

“The doctor believes it was an aneurysm,” Britta explained.

Lydia picked up the conversation. “I was called to help deliver the baby until someone could get the doctor. By the time he got there, Marsha had been complaining of a headache for some time. The doctor said that the labor must have caused a rupture. We arranged for her to be buried in town and brought the children here. We had no way of knowing if she had other family, however. Is there someone we can notify for you?”

“No. She had no one.” Yuri stared at the baby for a moment. “When did this happen?”

“January twenty-eighth. We tried to find you,” Britta explained. “Dalton had inquiries out all over, but no one seemed to know where you’d gone.”

“I was near Juneau, on Douglas Island at the Treadwell mine.”

“Not far at all,” Mother commented.

“No, not really,” Yuri agreed. He ran his hand back through his dark blond hair and shrugged. “I was injured in a mine explosion or I might have come back sooner.” He frowned. “Then again, I probably wouldn’t have. That accident changed my life.”

“How so?” Britta asked.

He met her gaze and smiled. “I could have died, and it shook me up. The doctor patched me up, but a kind gentleman named Morris James cared for me afterward. He was responsible for helping me to stop . . . to quit drinking.”

Britta felt a surge of happiness at the announcement but fought to keep her emotions under control. Laura pulled away just a bit and yawned. “You still need a nap, little miss.”

Lydia got to her feet with the baby. “Would you like to hold her?”

Yuri shook his head. “Not just yet. Please.”

She shifted Darya to her shoulder to burp. “It’s all right, Yuri. You’re dealing with a lot of information all at once. Why don’t I put Laura down for a nap, Britta? That way you and Yuri can sit on the porch and talk.”

“Don’t go, Mama,” Laura said again, tightening her hold.

“Laura, we’ve talked about this before. You have to be a good girl and take your nap. You go upstairs and rest, and when you wake up, we’ll have some cookies and milk.”

The three-year-old fought back tears but climbed down from Britta’s lap and let Lydia lead her upstairs. Britta felt a moment’s awkwardness. Without the child between them she felt exposed, as if Yuri could see through to her heart.

She stood and motioned to the door. “Shall we?”

He nodded and followed her outside. A light rain was falling, but the shelter of the porch allowed them to sit unhindered.

“Yuri, I’m truly sorry you had to come back to face such sad news.”

“I was planning a new start,” he told her. “Morris helped me get right with God, and I figured it was time to try to make things work out with Marsha.” He looked at his feet. “I suppose you know that we were never in love.”

“I had heard that,” Britta replied. She felt her nerves give way to a giggle. “Not everyone could fall in love with you from the time they were little girls.” She immediately regretted her words and moved quickly to change the subject. “Your daughters are so sweet. As you can see, I adore them. I’ve been caring for them since we brought them home. Of course, Mother and Kay have helped, as well, but I really prefer having them to myself.”

“I don’t know what to do about them,” Yuri said, meeting her gaze with steely blue eyes.

Britta felt her heart do a flip. She longed to reach out and touch his jaw. He needed a shave, but she found she liked the light growth of whiskers. “They’re your children. You’ll figure it out.”

He shook his head. “Darya isn’t mine.”

Surely she hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”

Yuri leaned closer. “She’s not mine. I haven’t . . . well, that is to say Marsha and I weren’t . . . together . . . since Laura was conceived.” He seemed to regret his words. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken in such a crude manner.”

“Forget about social rules of etiquette and discretion. You can say anything to me,” Britta replied. “I care about those children. Nothing you say is going to shock me so much that I would cease feeling that way.” She desperately wanted the tension of the moment to subside and so got to her feet. “Why don’t I get you something to eat? We just had tea with Phoebe, and I know we have some food left.”

He nodded but said nothing. Britta hurried into the house, afraid that if she didn’t put some distance between them, she might well throw herself into his arms.

Yuri sat, staring out at the forest beyond the Lindquist yard. Marsha was dead. How strange it seemed. Yet he couldn’t work up the slightest emotion over her passing. This only served to make him feel guilty, and he pushed it aside.

I can’t go back and change things now. I can’t make the past
right.

But maybe the past could never be made right. Maybe that power only pertained to the present and future. He thought of the two little girls in the house and shook his head. How in the world could he ever care for them?

“Here you are,” Britta announced, returning with a tray. She placed it on the little table between them. “This is Mother’s egg salad on bread Laura and I baked just this morning. I think you’ll enjoy it. And the tea is still warm, but if it’s not hot enough, I’ll make you some fresh.”

“This is fine.” Yuri picked up the sandwich and took a bite. In the wake of the stunning news, he’d forgotten just how hungry he was. In a matter of moments, he’d wolfed the sandwich down rather unfashionably. “Thank you,” he said as he selected a cookie from the tray.