Twilight's Serenade (34 page)

She smiled and reached out to clasp his hand. “I appreciate you so. I know that you understand the pain that man has caused me.”

“I do.” He drank down the coffee and grabbed another cookie. “I can’t stay. I still have a great deal to get done. Tell Father I said hello.”

“He’ll be sorry to have missed you. He’s off trading for some cedar. He wants to make your Rachel a hope chest.”

Dalton laughed. “She’s only twelve.”

“Exactly. She’ll probably marry in another six years. She needs to start making things for her own home and saving them. It takes a good many years to fill a hope chest. It will keep her busy.”

Dalton didn’t like to think of his daughter growing up so quickly. The very idea that she could be married off in another six years didn’t set well with him at all.

“Maybe I’ll just lock her in the cache,” he said with a grin. “Until she’s thirty.”

Mother laughed. “I somehow doubt that will work.”

Dalton was back home before he remembered he’d need to let Evie know about Marston. He was just starting to turn the horse around when Phoebe came bounding down the walk. Gordon was just behind her.

“Your sister is here,” Phoebe told him. “Come quickly.”

Dalton jumped down from the wagon and motioned to his son. “Will you see to this?”

Gordon quickly took his father’s place on the wagon seat, clearly enjoying the opportunity to drive the wagon. Dalton had once felt the same enthusiasm. He guessed it wouldn’t be long before Gordon would ask to borrow their carriage for courting.

“I feel old,” Dalton muttered.

Inside the house, Evie was waiting for him. She looked upset, and Dalton knew that she must have had a runin with Marston.

“So you know?”

She looked at him oddly. “About what?”

“Marston being here.”

Evie nodded. “I didn’t realize you knew.”

“I went to tell Mother and then planned to come see you. I suppose Marston came to pester you and beg your understanding?”

“No. He sent for me after he collapsed near the hotel. He must have just left your office. He had some sort of attack, and they’ve taken him to the hospital.”

Chapter 27

January 1907

T
he cancer has spread throughout the body,” the doctor told Dalton a few weeks later. “I’m sorry to say this, but it’s just a matter of time now.”

“How has he taken the news?” Dalton asked.

The doctor put aside the chart he’d been reviewing. “He doesn’t believe it’s as bad as it is. He’s in denial about the entire situation. He believes he simply has ulcers.”

“He said much the same to me when he first arrived back in Sitka, the day he collapsed.”

“Your brother thinks that his will alone can keep him alive, and while I’ve seen such a thing delay death, it cannot hold it off indefinitely.”

Dalton got to his feet. “I’ll speak to him. After all, he once mentioned that his funeral arrangements were already made. I should inquire as to what that entails.”

The doctor nodded. “There is little more I can do for him. We can keep him out of pain to a point, but that’s all. Eventually, we won’t even be able to control that. If you think he’d be more comfortable dying at home, I see no reason to keep him here.”

“He has no home,” Dalton said, knowing that Marston would never be comfortable in his care or Evie’s. And to be perfectly honest, Dalton wasn’t sure he could even bring himself to offer such a thing. “I think it best he remain here.”

“Very well. As you said before, you can more than afford to give him the best of care available. I will do everything possible to ease his passing.”

“I thank you for that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go see him.”

Dalton walked down the hall slowly and contemplated the situation before him. Marston’s days were numbered, and the man was still without spiritual peace. Dalton wondered how he might help his brother to see the truth. He supposed the straightforward approach was the best, but Marston had never been one to believe in a higher being. There was no foundation for him to accept God’s love and gift of salvation when he’d spent a lifetime disdaining such things.

Entering the ward, Dalton could see the quartered-off area at the far end of the room where they had placed Marston. He would have preferred a private room, but there was nothing of the sort available. He was fortunate there was a doctor to even care for him. Since the government had moved to Juneau, they had lost a number of medical staff.

“How are you feeling today?” Dalton asked as he came around the drawn curtain.

Marston gave him a quizzical look and then gave a hoarse chuckle. “I’m ready to dance.”

Dalton smiled. “You look it.” He pulled up a metal chair beside the bed. “I was just speaking with your doctor.”

“The man is a lunatic.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Dalton countered. He sat and tossed his hat to the end of the bed.

“Don’t you know that a hat on the bed is bad luck?” Marston questioned.

“I don’t believe in luck. I believe in the power of God to deliver me and guide my steps.”

The matter-of-fact comment hit its mark. Marston grimaced. “God isn’t that powerful.”

Dalton studied his brother for a moment. Leaning back, he crossed his legs and relaxed. “I suppose that to someone who has always relied upon his own strength, a time like this would be quite vexing.”

Marston looked away. “Age itself is vexing. Life is vexing.”

“True. But now you are facing death.” Dalton let the words sink in for a moment. “Don’t you think it’s about time you dealt with it head-on?”

“The doctor doesn’t know everything.”

“Perhaps not, but I think he knows this much.” Marston’s clenched jaw told Dalton he’d hit a nerve. He decided to press forward. “You can deny your condition if you like, but it will only make things harder on you in the long run.”

“You haven’t got all the answers, little brother.”

“No, but I know who does. My trust is in Jesus Christ. Yours is in yourself. Now you’re dying, but Jesus conquered death. I think my trust is better placed.”

“That’s all utter nonsense—fairy tales to ease people’s fears of life and death.”

“Why do you have such a difficult time accepting that there is someone out there more powerful than you?”

“If God is so powerful, then why is it your mother cannot forgive me?”

This question took Dalton by surprise. “I don’t understand.”

“Your mother claims the same things you do. She speaks of God and the importance of living by His commands, yet she cannot let go of the past. She hates me to this day. I made poor choices, and she despises me. She hates our father, as well. Deny it if you can.”

“Time has softened her anger and bitterness,” Dalton replied. “She was very hurt by our father, as you know. Then you and your schemes nearly took her life and that of Aunt Zee. You took me from her and had she not suffered the inability to remember at the time, it probably would have left her too devastated to recover. Don’t you think she has a right to hold herself at a distance from you?”

“Is that the Christian way? I thought if a person wanted to be forgiven, the Christian was obligated to give that forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness doesn’t equal reconciliation. That takes time, and sometimes even that is not necessary. My mother forgave the man who shot her, but she has no desire to have a relationship with him, nor to put herself in a position of trusting that he won’t do the same thing to her again. Just as she has no desire to trust you not to hurt her again. That doesn’t make her less of a Christian. Frankly, I think it makes her wise.”

“She doesn’t forgive me. She’s never tried to make peace with me.”

“And if she did, would that prove God’s love to you?” Dalton shook his head. “I doubt it would.”

“I don’t know. I’ve listened to plenty of talk over the years but have seen very little backed up with action. People are always saying one thing, then conducting themselves in an entirely different manner. Rather like our legal system, where I’m beginning to believe you must prove yourself innocent instead of the other way around.”

Dalton considered his brother’s statement for a moment. The man had a point. It was easy to declare one’s Christian beliefs, and entirely another matter to live them on a daily basis.

“Is there anything I can get for you?”

“No. I don’t expect to be here much longer,” Marston stated rather casually.

For a moment, Dalton thought perhaps his brother was accepting what the doctor had said, but Marston quickly dispelled that with his next comment. “I hope to be up and out of here within the next few days. You might check on the shipping schedules. I should be getting back to Seattle.”

Dalton got to his feet and took up his hat. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow. If you think of anything you need, just send word to me. Also, you mentioned having arrangements made for your funeral. It would be good to let me know what those are.”

Marston shrugged. “I lied about that. I only said it to put everyone’s mind at ease that I hadn’t come to impose upon them.”

“Then we should make some plans. Perhaps you could write down the things you want done.”

“There’s plenty of time for such things.” He closed his eyes. “I’ll concern myself with it another day.”

“So what is this big surprise you’ve promised?” Britta asked. She huddled Laura close to her and wrapped her wool cloak around them both.

Yuri drove the wagon up a steep grade, urging the horses to their destination. “We’re nearly there.” They rounded a stand of tall spruce, and Yuri pointed. “There.”

Britta turned to see a large house. “Who lives here?”

“We will, if it meets with your approval.” He pulled the wagon alongside the place and stopped. “Come on. I thought you might like to see inside.”

“I like it, Mama.” Laura pulled away. “I want to see my room.”

Yuri climbed down and pulled Laura into his arms. “Run along, then. I think you’ll like it very much. Your grandpa Lindquist built this place many years ago.” He put Laura down and laughed as she ran to the front door.

Britta allowed Yuri to assist her from the wagon. She studied the two-story house for a moment. “It’s beautiful.” And it was. She was quite impressed with the log structure. The second floor had a series of three nine-pane windows, while the lower level had even more. Growing up with a man who built houses for a living at one time, Britta knew the expense of glass and the difficulty of getting it to Sitka in one piece.

“Come on. Laura’s having all the fun without us.”

They strolled to the front door and walked inside to find a large open room. To the left, they were greeted by a massive stone fireplace. Britta noted the beautiful wood floors. They looked as if they’d been laid only yesterday. Someone had taken very good care of the place.

“Isn’t it big?” Laura called out from the stairway.

“Indeed, it is,” Britta replied. She looked to Yuri. “Is this something we can really afford?”

“Your brother has made me a full partner in the business. He felt he owed that to me because it was my father’s business originally. I told him he didn’t—fought him on the issue—but he would hear of nothing less, and so I relented. I figure I’ll make it up to him in the long run.”

Britta smiled. “I imagine you will.”

“It’s good to see you smile again.” The comment caused her to stop smiling. Britta instantly felt guilty, but Yuri would have no part of that. “Stop it,” he insisted. “Just because you find something to be happy about doesn’t dishonor your love for Darya. She was such a happy child, and she would want us to be happy—especially for Laura.”

“I know you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just be happy.” He took hold of her hand. “Now come on. I want to show you the upstairs.”

They toured through the house, and as they passed from room to room, Laura would announce the ownership of each one. “This will be my room,” she said when they came to a small but homey-looking room. Someone had papered the wall in a delicate flower print of pink, green, and white. It was perfect for a little girl’s room.

“I think this will suit you quite well,” Yuri said. “I thought of you, in fact, when I first saw this room.”