Twilight's Serenade (5 page)

“That’s wonderful news!” Mother declared as she crossed the room. She reached out to hug Britta. “You should have said something immediately. When will you begin?”

“I haven’t . . . well, that is to say . . . I don’t know that I’m accepting the position.”

“But why?” Lydia cast a glance at the sleeping baby. “Because of the children?”

Of course the girls were impacting her decision. Still, how could she tell her mother and Kay the essence of her dilemma? How could she explain her return to Sitka served only to remind her of Yuri and the days she’d spent loving him from afar?

Now she was caring for his daughters and losing her heart to them. The orchestra and all that went with it seemed nominal at best, compared to the possibility that she could accomplish her first lifelong dream—to marry Yuri Belikov.

“Sit down and tell me everything,” her mother said, taking hold of Britta’s arm. “I want to know all about this orchestra.”

“You really shouldn’t get so excited,” Britta told her. “There are complications that have nothing to do with the children.” At least that much was true. She wasn’t yet ready to reveal all of the facts related to the matter, but she could at least discuss it in part.

She sat in the rocker and Lydia pulled up a chair. “What kind of complications?”

Britta folded her hands and looked first to Kay and then to her mother. “The orchestra is in England.”

“England?” her mother questioned.

“I’m afraid so.” Britta lowered her gaze to her hands. “That’s why it wasn’t so easy to decide.”

“I can understand now,” her mother said. “England is so far away.”

“And the orchestra would keep me very busy. I couldn’t say when I might make it home again.” Britta glanced up. “I thought in coming here, the decision would be clear, but instead . . .”

“Instead you have only found it more difficult.” Her mother smiled sympathetically. “Goodness, but you’ve always had a way of choosing complicated paths for your life.”

That’s putting it mildly,
Britta thought. Kay got to her feet. The expression on her face made it clear to Britta that she knew there was more involved than what was being said.

“I have to go check the baking.” Kay turned to Laura. “You want to go see if the cake is done? I might let you have a piece while it’s warm.”

Laura looked to Britta. “You come with us.”

“I’ll come down in just a few minutes. You go ahead.”

The girl seemed to consider this for a moment—weighing the importance of warm cake against her need for Britta to be nearby. “I’ll go.” She put one of the dolls down and clutched the other one to her breast. “Darya go, too.” Laura had named her favorite doll after her baby sister.

After she and Kay headed downstairs, Britta turned to her mother. “I don’t think I can make a decision until I know what will happen to them.”

“But they aren’t yours to worry about,” her mother reminded her. “Once Yuri is found, it will be up to him to decide.”

“But who’s to know when that may be? I’m confident that Marsha had no other relatives. After searching through her cabin, the only correspondence I found was from Yuri sending money to her for their care. He said nothing of where he was—probably because he didn’t want her to know.”

“I understand, Britta. But you should understand that if we can’t find Yuri, the children will most likely have to go to the orphanage.”

“Why? Why can’t I continue to care for them?” she asked.

“Britta, be realistic. You have no way of providing for these children on your own.”

“And you would turn us out?” she questioned.

Mother shook her head. “You know that we wouldn’t. My point is that you would never be allowed to adopt them. You aren’t married, and you have no income of your own. You don’t even have a home of your own.”

“I could take the first-chair position and . . .” She fell silent, afraid if she said anything more, she might reveal too much.

“You have to think of what is best for the children,” her mother said gently.

“But I am. Laura is attached to me and Darya is thriving, as well,” Britta replied. “It’s obvious that Marsha showed Laura little, if any, love. I know I’m dependent upon you and Father, but I can be useful to you, as well as to them.”

“Britta, it’s never been an issue of whether or not you could be useful to us. You always manage to earn your keep in one way or another,” Mother said with a grin. “Not that you need to. But still, these children would be better off in a family with a mother and father who could love them and see to their needs.”

“But who would possibly want to take them?”

Lydia shrugged. “Perhaps Phoebe and Dalton would be willing.”

“But I want them,” Britta replied much too quickly.

Her mother frowned. “That’s what worries me. You have grown so attached to these children that you are going to be severely disappointed when they are taken from you. Look, I know you care about Yuri. Your love for him has always been evident.”

Britta was shocked. “It has?”

“Yes,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “But Yuri has so many problems, Britta. You cannot hope to fix him or the problems. Only God and Yuri can do that.”

She didn’t know what to say. Britta wanted to tell her mother that she was confident her love for him could overcome any obstacle and heal any hurt.

“If Yuri can be found,” her mother continued, “there’s no way to know if he would ever be competent enough to care for the children. He would still need to earn a living, and two little girls—one of them an infant—would need more attention than he’d be able to give.”

“But I could care for them while he worked,” Britta replied. “That’s reasonable enough. Yuri knows me. He knows I care about him, and once he returns, he’ll see how much I care for the children and how they need me.”

“
If
he returns,” her mother countered.

Yuri opened his eyes to incredible pain. The last thing he remembered was a loud explosion. The ringing in his ears made him wonder if he’d ruptured his eardrums. He moved his hand to cup it around his right ear and drew it back, covered in blood.

“Just stay still, Yuri,” Murphy told him in what seemed like a whisper.

Yuri tried to move, but every part of his body hurt. He glanced to his right and saw that men were being laid out beside him. He realized for the first time that he was outside of the mine. What had happened? He reached up painfully to grab hold of Murphy’s shirt.

“Murph, what’s going on?”

“Joe drilled into a loaded hole.”

Yuri could barely hear the words above the ringing. A loaded hole made sense. When the miners were ready to dynamite, they would pack drilled holes with dynamite and fuses. Often the fuses would be connected and several holes were set off at the same time. Sometimes the dynamite didn’t blow, however, and when another man came along to tamp or drill again, he’d set off the uncharged stick with a mere spark.

Closing his eyes, Yuri knew the situation wasn’t good. He must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes again, Murphy and another man were preparing to load him on a stretcher.

“I can walk,” he told them and struggled to sit up. Everything went black for a moment, and Yuri fell back. He fought to remain conscious.

“You ought not to do that,” Murphy told him. “You’ve got a bad head wound and probably a broken arm. No telling if there’s injuries elsewhere.”

Yuri said nothing as the men lifted him onto the stretcher. He wondered if anyone else was injured. Joe, he knew, was probably dead. Most men didn’t make it through an accident like that. Yuri had been working about six or eight feet away from Joe. At least that’s what Yuri thought he remembered.

They carried him to a waiting cart, where Murphy instructed the driver that he could go. “There’s no one else.”

What did he mean by that?
Yuri wondered. Was no one else injured or was no one else alive? He didn’t consider the question long as the world once again faded to shades of gray and then nothing.

Yuri heard someone talking but couldn’t make out the words. He fought to open his eyes and found an older black man standing over him. The man smiled and gave Yuri’s chest a pat.

“You just rest easy, young man. Don’t get up on my account.”

The ringing had subsided, and as Yuri’s mind cleared, he could see that he was now on a bed in a small but well-lit room.

“Where am I?” he asked, his throat aching from all the dust he’d swallowed.

“You’re at my place,” the man replied. “I’m Morris James. Doc asked me to look after you. Seems you’re doin’ rather poorly.”

Yuri nodded and felt white-hot pain streak through his head and down his neck. He moaned and closed his eyes. “What about the others?” he managed to ask.

“You’re the lucky one. Doc tried to save one, but the man didn’t make it. Four total died. You got your own problems to be sure, but Doc thinks you’ll live.”

He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Yuri’s life didn’t really amount to much, and death might very well be the answer to all of his problems. Still, he said nothing about his thoughts. What he really wanted was a drink.

“You got any liquor?”

The man laughed and Yuri opened his eyes. “Something funny?”

“Seems strange to me that a man is laying there not so far from the pearly gates, and he asks for a drink.”

“Nothing strange at all.” Yuri began to feel a tingling pain down his left arm and tried to readjust it. His body seemed to protest any movement whatsoever. “I hurt.”

“I’m not doubtin’ it, son. The doc has something here for you to take. It ain’t liquor, but I think it’ll help you, just the same.”

Yuri let out a groan. “I want whiskey. I have some money. Couldn’t you just go buy me a bottle?”

Morris shook his head. “Liquor ain’t gonna help what’s ailing you.”

“It’ll numb the pain.”

This time the man gave a chuckle, and Yuri couldn’t help but frown. “You sure laugh a lot.”

“ ‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine,’ ” Morris said, pouring some liquid from a bottle onto a spoon. “The doc stitched up your head and said your arm ain’t broke. The shoulder was dislocated, but not broke. Here, take this.” He eased a well-muscled arm behind Yuri’s neck and guided the spoon into his mouth.

Strangling on a groan of pain as Morris placed him back down, Yuri waited for the medicine to offer some effect. “What was that stuff?”

“Not sure. Doc said it would help with the pain, though.” Morris secured a cork back in the bottle. “Still, seems to me you got yourself pains that no medicine can touch.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you say that?”

Morris pulled up a chair and sat down. Yuri could see that he was dressed in old, worn clothes, but the man was meticulously well groomed and clean. The garments had even been neatly pressed.

“I been prayin’ for you since they brought you down from the mine. God’s given me thoughts about you being a man who’s in trouble. Trouble of the spirit. He wants me to help you.”

This time it was Yuri who let out a bitter laugh. “You’re mistaken. God doesn’t care about me.”

“I’m often wrong about things, but not this time. God’s made this too clear. You’re in trouble, and you need help.”

“Even if I did, there’s nothing you can do,” he said, feeling his limbs grow heavy. Apparently the medicine was working. It felt wonderful to let the sensation wash over him. “Nothing anybody can do,” he murmured. “I’ve made too many mistakes. Disappointed too many people, and now it’s too late.”

“So long as you got breath, it ain’t too late where God’s concerned,” Morris told him. “But for now, you just rest easy. Me and the good Lord will watch over you. Just don’t go dying on me. We got a lot of work to do.”

Yuri closed his eyes and smiled. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Chapter 4

April 1906

D
alton and Kjell Lindquist entered the restaurant and settled at a table by an open window. After ordering their lunch, Dalton picked up their earlier conversation.

“After we meet with Mr. Kirkpatrick and finalize the transfer of the boat,” he began, “I was wondering if we could maybe go to the Chinese part of town. I promised Phoebe I would bring Rachel something special from San Francisco for her birthday. Li Ming at the Sitka Laundry told me of some wonderful deals you could get on jade jewelry.”