[Alaskan Quest 03] - Whispers of Winter (22 page)

The days passed by without any sign of Karen recovering. Leah took her turn by Karen’s bedside remembering both the good days and bad they’d shared. Her most frequent thoughts were of Karen’s love and faithfulness. When the rest of the world had deserted her, Leah had known Karen would be her constant. She was a good second mother and a dear friend.

“And now I’m losing you,” Leah whispered. “I can’t bear that you won’t be here to see my children grow up—to offer me advice—to comfort me in sorrow and to share my joys.”

The room was dark, except for a single lantern atop the dresser Adrik had made. The light cast strange shadows on the walls of the room and bathed them in an eerie yellow glow. In a few hours everyone would wake up and welcome in a new year.

Leah yawned and dozed off and on in the hard wooden chair, then startled awake at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Adrik came in quietly and looked to Leah for information.

“She’s resting easy,” Leah offered. “Nothing has changed.”

Adrik sat down on the bed beside Karen’s still body. “I thought I’d ask the doctor about taking her to Seattle. Maybe a large hospital would know how to better help her. After all, we’re always hearing about the progress made in medicine.”

Leah wanted to offer him encouragement. “That’s true. There are always new treatments. Perhaps Seattle would offer something good. I’m sure the doctor might have an idea about it.”

Adrik took hold of Karen’s hand and gently stroked it as he continued. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“Jayce has been good to stay with the children. He loves being with them and doesn’t mind at all. He knows how important Karen is to me—to all of us. He loves her too.”

Adrik smiled sadly. “Who could help but love her? She’s done nothing but give of herself since the day she was born. She’s always helping someone with something.”

“No one knows that better than I do. She was such a blessing to Jacob and me. You were too, Adrik. We wouldn’t have made it out of the Yukon alive had it not been for the both of you. I hate to think where we would have ended up. I probably would have been forced to marry some grizzled old prospector, and Jacob would probably be dead. You and Karen kept us safe and became the parents we no longer had.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do without her, Leah. She’s been my everything. If she dies, how will I go on without her smile? Without her touch?” He looked at her as if she honestly might offer answers. “What will the boys do? They’re so young. And Ashlie. Poor girl. She blames herself for this. She’s sure that if she’d stayed here, her mother would still be healthy and happy.”

“I know. I’ve tried to talk to her. Guilt is an awful thing to try to overcome.”

An hour later the doctor showed up. He was in between delivering a baby and setting the arm of a man who’d had a nasty run-in with a stack of cut wood. He quickly examined Karen, then turned to Adrik and Leah just as Ashlie joined them.

“I wondered,” Adrik started before the doctor could speak, “if I should consider moving her to Seattle? I could arrange to have her on the next ship. I could even wire my friend to send a ship. Would the hospital there be able to help her?”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, his eyes downcast. “I can’t advise that.” He looked up, regaining his fac
ade of strength. “I don’t expect that she’ll last the day.”

“No!” Ashlie cried out and rushed to her mother’s side. “You can’t say that. We’ve taken good care of her.”

“The care she’s received has little to do with the situation,” the doctor said softly. “Just as there was little that could be done to prevent the condition, there is nothing to be done to prevent her passing. I’m so sorry. Medicine has much to offer in this modern age, but unfortunately, treatments for the brain are still limited.”

Ashlie sobbed against her mother’s neck while Leah shuddered at the chill that washed down her spine. Adrik stood silent as the doctor made his way to the door. “If time permits,” the man said, “I’ll return to check on her again.”

“I should never have gone away,” Ashlie sobbed. “All of this is my fault. If I’d stayed, Mama would be just fine.”

“That’s not true,” Adrik said, coming to his daughter’s side. He took hold of her and turned her to face him. “You must stop this. Your brothers will not understand. They will be frightened more than ever if they see you falling apart like this.”

“I don’t want Mama to die.” Ashlie leaned against her father’s chest. “I don’t want her to go.”

“Neither do I.” Adrik barely managed to speak the words.

“No matter what happens, I’m staying here to take care of my family,” Ashlie suddenly declared. She pushed back and wiped her eyes. “If Mama … if she … I’ll be here to take care of you and the boys. You won’t have to worry. I won’t ever leave my family again. Never!”

Later that afternoon Leah joined her brother and Adrik and Ashlie at Karen’s side. The boys had gone to be with Helaina to help pick up some things in town, and Jayce was again watching over the twins.

“Her breathing has slowed a great deal,” Adrik told Leah as she took her seat.

“She’s not in pain, is she?” Ashlie asked Leah.

“No, I don’t see any signs of that,” Leah replied. “Usually there are ways to tell. Your mother seems quite at peace.”

Ashlie was stoic. “She deserves so much better than this. I don’t understand how God can be so cruel.”

“Sickness and death are a part of life, darling girl,” Adrik said, putting his arm around her. “Your mother loves the Lord. She knows that He loves her as well. She wouldn’t consider Him cruel in this and neither should you.”

“Karen once told me long ago that her only fear of dying young was to leave her children without a mother. She had asked me if I would see to helping your father raise you should anything happen,” Leah said as she took hold of Karen’s hand. “I promised her I would.”

“I remember that,” Adrik said. “I asked the same of you, Jacob. Remember?”

“I do,” Jacob replied. “We are here for you, Adrik. For you and the children. You are the only family we have on this earth, besides that which we are making anew.”

“I can take care of my brothers,” Ashlie said, her tone quite serious.

“Your mother wouldn’t want you to bear this alone, Ashlie,” Leah said. “No one is meant to take this on by themselves. That’s what family is for.”

“I can handle the job by myself.” She straightened in the bedside chair and kept her gaze on Karen.

Leah decided to let the matter drop for now. She would try to talk to Ashlie when they were alone; now was not the appropriate place or time.

“I think we should sing,” Leah said without thinking. “Karen loved the hymns in church. I think she’d like it if we surrounded her with music.”

“‘I am Thine, O Lord, I have heard Thy voice and it told Thy love to me,”’ she began, singing Karen’s favorite song. The others joined, except for Ashlie.

“‘There are depths of love that I cannot know till I cross the narrow sea; there are heights of joy that I may not reach till I rest in peace with Thee.”’ Leah felt an odd sensation as the words of the chorus permeated the room. “‘Draw me nearer, nearer, nearer, blessed Lord.”’

She gripped Karen’s hand, feeling as best she could for a pulse but finding none. Leah knew her friend was gone. She looked across the bed to where Adrik sat. When their gaze met, Leah knew he already knew. She didn’t need to say a word.

The words of the song faded just as Timothy came into the room. He looked across to where they had gathered. “The doctor has come,” he announced.

Adrik put his arm around Ashlie. “Tell him … tell him there’s no need. Tell him my beloved has gone home.”

Chapter Nineteen

T
wo weeks passed with a series of blizzards and heavy snows. Leah felt Karen’s loss deeply but tried her best to offer encouragement to Adrik and his family. Ashlie, in particular, seemed impossible to reach. As best Leah could tell, Ashlie was waging a battle within herself, divided by guilt over not having been home sooner and a fierce desire to leave again.

Ashlie was so like her mother; tall and slender, athletic in nature. Had it not been for some of her father’s darker features, she might have been a strong replica of Karen in her youth. Ashlie also inherited her mother’s outgoing nature and bold spirit. Very little frightened her—except the death of her mother. Losing Karen had sent Ashlie into a dark place. She refused to talk to anyone and usually kept herself hidden away working at one thing or another. A few days after Karen’s death, she had requested that the others stay away from the cabin to allow the family some time alone. While Leah disagreed, she had conceded. She decided to let Ashlie have her way—at least for a short time.

To her relief, however, the situation didn’t last long. Leah finally began to see hope for a return to normalcy when the girl showed up one morning asking for a lesson in making her father’s favorite dried berry cobbler.

“I heard that Timothy is planning to return to Seattle.”

“Yes. He’s leaving at the end of the week,” Ashlie said, looking away as if completely disinterested.

“What about you? Will you go back? Surely school has started again.”

“I suppose it has, but I have responsibilities here with my family.”

“Ashlie, have you talked to your father about this?”

“Why should I? He needs me. He’s so sad over losing Mama. I have to help him.”

“Ashlie, I’ve been very worried about you. You and I used to be close. I thought to help you share your grief.”

“How do you share this?” Ashlie looked at Leah with a befuddled expression. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to have you all at the house. I don’t feel like talking and answering a lot of questions, and I don’t want anyone trying to change my mind. I owe it to my family to be here for them.”

“It’s admirable, and I don’t fault you for wanting to help them,” Leah admitted. “I know you feel obligated to your family, but I think you should also think about what they need and want too.”

“Meaning what?” Ashlie finally took a seat but still refused to look Leah in the eye.

“Meaning that they don’t need you to replace your mother. No one can do that. Not you or me or Helaina. They also don’t need you to stay, only to grow bitter at all the things you’ve had to give up. I know you don’t want to be here, but you feel you have to be here.”

Her head shot up. “My family is here and they need me. Of course I want to be here. How dare you say I’d grow bitter?”

Leah shook her head. “Please don’t be angry with me. I’m on your side.”

Ashlie’s expression contorted. “I’m all they have. They need me to stay here and help. My brothers are too little to be without a mother.”

“You’re too young to have lost your mother as well. But you won’t give yourself that much consideration.” Leah leaned forward to touch Ashlie’s arm. The girl stiffened, but Leah refused to pull back. “I want you to drop all the pretenses and fac
ades related to what you think you’re supposed to be right now. I want you to just talk to me honestly—openly. I’ll keep your confidence, but it’s important that you open up and be truthful about your feelings. You can’t just keep them buried inside.”

Ashlie bit her lower lip so hard Leah was certain she’d draw blood any moment. The tension in her body never eased, even when she finally spoke.

“My father needs me to take my mother’s place. My brothers need me. My selfishness killed my mother. I owe it to them to be here.”

Leah nodded. “All right, let’s talk about this one issue at a time. First of all, your father loves you. He enjoys your company and wants only the best for you. But he does not need for you to take your mother’s place. He’s grieving her loss, just as you are. He isn’t looking for a replacement. He needs for you to be his daughter and for your brothers to be his sons. Would you honestly thrust your father’s responsibilities on the shoulders of Oliver or Chris if he’d died instead of your mother?”

“Well … no, but I’m older. I’m nearly grown. A lot of girls have had to take over their mother’s duties. Why should I be any different?”

“Because your father has me. He has Helaina. We are here by choice to begin with, making our home in Alaska. You left because you felt called to something else. You wanted a different kind of experience, and apparently your parents saw the validity of that desire. Would you discredit them for their thinking?”