[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain (23 page)

“How did you know Father was the man for you?” Phoebe asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, but continued. “I know it seems odd. I don’t have that much to rely on when it comes to validating my feelings, but I can’t imagine a future without him. He’s all I think about.”

She shook her head and went to pick up her hairbrush. “Mother, I don’t want to be foolish about it, but if your heart tells you that this is the one, shouldn’t you listen?”

“I think it’s important to hear what your heart has to say, but also to use your head a bit, too. Don’t let your emotions carry you away. After all, you’re young and there is time to find a husband.”

“I’ll be nineteen next March, and that’s very close to being twenty. Most of my friends married this summer or will marry this winter. But even so, if I wanted only to marry, you know as well as anyone I could have had a husband many times over by now. Sitka is full of single men looking for a wife. It’s only Dalton who’s captured my thoughts and heart.”

Stepping forward, Mother embraced Phoebe. “Then follow your heart. I did, and I’ve never regretted it. Not once.”

Phoebe pulled back. “Not even with Grandfather’s underhanded dealings and the way that worked to ruin Father’s reputation?”

Her mother shook her head. “Not even then. I know the truth of who your father is. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I love him.”

Her mother’s words pierced Phoebe’s heart. How wonderful to hold such a deep, abiding love for your mate after so many years. That’s what she wanted. A husband she could grow old with—no matter the controversies and adversities they might face.

Such thoughts remained heavy on her mind even after Phoebe arrived at the Lindquist house to help. Her brother Theodore pulled the wagon to a stop and begrudgingly assisted Phoebe from the carriage.

“Remind Mother that they should be here by six.”

“I don’t see why we should have to come.”

“Because there will be wonderful food,” she teased. “You will enjoy Zee’s cookies and cakes. She and Lydia are quite gifted in the kitchen.”

He perked up a bit. “Do you suppose they will have chocolate?” “I’m sure they will. Zee mentioned something about a chocolate cake.”

This met with the fifteen-year-old’s approval. “Then I guess it won’t be so bad.”

“Just don’t forget to remind Mother to be here by six.”

Her brother bounded back up to the carriage seat. “I’ll tell her.”

Phoebe made her way up the porch steps and to the door. She knocked lightly and wasn’t at all surprised when Zee showed up to answer. “They’ve all gone down to await the ship’s arrival,” Zee told her. “My, but don’t you look pretty. Let’s get an apron on you straightaway so you don’t get anything on that lovely dress.”

“I wasn’t sure what to wear. I wanted to look . . . well . . . nice.” Phoebe stumbled over the words, not wanting to sound as though she were looking for a compliment.

“That you do. I’ll change my dress after I get the cake frosted. You go ahead and start decorating. Everything we gathered is in the sewing room.”

Phoebe nodded and took the apron Zee offered. The pinafore-styled white cotton had straps that crisscrossed in the back, so Zee quickly went to work buttoning these in place while Phoebe smoothed out the apron in front.

“There you are. I’ll leave you to manage the ties,” Zee declared.

Phoebe did just that as she made her way to the sewing room. She looked at the variety of boughs and smiled. Lydia had arranged for Kjell to cut spruce branches, and the scent filled the room and would soon engulf the house. Kjerstin and Britta had helped her the day before in joining the pieces together to make a decorative garland, so Phoebe now worked at arranging the decorations about the room.

Above the fireplace, Lydia had positioned a new watercolor painted by a local woman, Paulina Cohen. Phoebe liked the way the artist had captured the scenic harbor. The skies held just a hint of orange, suggesting twilight. Placing two candles on either side, Phoebe marveled at how the illumination brought out the colors in the painting.

“That’s perfect,” Zee announced. “I’ve finished the cake, so I’m going to go on over to my cabin and change clothes. I’ll be back in a quick minute.”

“Is there anything else I can help with?”

“No, just sit tight and enjoy the quiet. Soon there won’t be any at all.” She grinned and headed to the door.

Phoebe hugged her arms to her body and glanced around the room to make certain everything was in place. She suddenly felt anxious. What if Dalton had changed so much that he wasn’t at all the man he’d been before? Lydia was worried about the influence of his family in the south. What if her worries were well founded?

“You’ve considered this same matter at least a hundred times,” she reminded herself aloud. “You must trust God for the outcome.”

Zee returned just before the first of the wagons began arriving. People poured into the house, soon filling every corner. Phoebe had long since removed her apron and was mingling among the townspeople. Some of them were members of her church and some were neighbors. Everyone seemed in a mood for celebration. But where were Dalton and the others?

“Don’t worry,” Zee whispered in her ear. “They’ll be here soon. Lydia had Kjell purposefully stop by the mill to pick up Joshua. They’ll delay there as long as they can to give folks time to get out here.”

Phoebe breathed a sigh. “That makes perfect sense.”

Her mother and father arrived with Theodore and Grady in tow. Neither brother acknowledged her. Grady was still angry at Phoebe for having told their parents of his actions at school, while Theodore wasn’t giving her a single thought. He was, instead, taking himself to the food table.

Phoebe made her way to her parents. “Mother. Father.”

“My, but there certainly are a lot of people here,” her mother said. “Has Dalton arrived yet?”

“No, but he should most any time. They were trying to keep it as a surprise,” Phoebe explained.

“The governor and his family were touched to be invited,” her father announced. “They will be here later.”

“Wonderful,” Phoebe said, remembering that there was trouble in her father’s situation with the governor and some other worker. “I’m sure the Lindquists will be pleased that he is attending.”

“They’re here!” someone yelled from the porch.

Phoebe felt as if she might swallow her tongue. She took a deep breath in an attempt to slow the rapid beating of her heart. Just then, the unmistakable sound of a dish breaking caught her attention. Excusing herself, Phoebe went toward the kitchen to find that an old man had dropped a plate.

“I’ll take care of it,” she told Zee, who had also come to see what had happened.

Relieved that the cleaning gave her something to do, Phoebe tried to remain calm as a cheer rose up from the partiers. There were shouts of welcome, and Dalton’s name was called many times over, as was Evie’s.

Crouched on the kitchen floor, Phoebe couldn’t see anything but legs. She hurried to pick up all of the broken bits of china. The last piece was positioned on the dustpan when she heard a voice from behind her.

“Did you break that?”

Phoebe rose slowly and turned to face Dalton. He smiled at her and his eyes fairly twinkled. Goodness, but he was even better looking than she’d remembered. Phoebe fairly forgot about the dustpan in her hands, and had Zee not quickly interceded to take it from her, she might have needed to pick up the entire mess once again.

“I was just the one to clean it up—this time.” She felt tongue-tied, at a loss for words as she stared up into his face.

“I’m glad to hear it. It seems like every time we’re together something or someone gets hurt.” The people directly around them chuckled, and Phoebe felt her face grow hot.

“Now, don’t be picking on this poor girl,” Zee said, returning to Phoebe’s side. “She has been our right hand these last few weeks.”

Dalton raised a brow. “Is that so? I suppose by now you’ve heard all my secrets—dreadful stories of my youth and mistakes I’ve made along the way.”

Phoebe shook her head. “No. Your mother told me wonderful stories.”

“I did indeed,” Lydia announced. “And all of them were true.”

Soon others pressed in, demanding Dalton’s attention, and Phoebe went to find her flute, as Lydia’s orchestra was to play several songs of welcome.

As the musicians awaited the arrival of the governor and his family, Yuri found Phoebe and without hesitation said, “I hope you’re going to give me another chance to court you.” His wide smile was confident.

Phoebe looked at him for a moment and realized that while she found him sweet and very kind, he did not stir her heart the way Dalton did. “I’m sorry,” she said with a small shake of her head. “I don’t think I can.”

Yuri frowned. “Are you still mad at me?”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she smelled liquor on his breath. “You know I’m not. I forgave you and told you so,” Phoebe replied. “It’s just that I don’t feel that way about you, Yuri. You are a good man, but . . .” Her throat seemed to dry up and words wouldn’t come.

“But you want Dalton,” he said in a tone somewhere between resignation and disgust.

She glanced up and nodded ever so slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t bother.” He stalked off just as Lydia and Kjell returned with the others.

“Let’s take our places,” Lydia directed.

Phoebe could barely concentrate on the music. She knew she risked making the entire group sound bad, however, so she willed herself to focus. When it came time for her to play a solo, she was taut with fear that her mind would wander, but she managed to make it through without a single error.

The governor spoke a few words after the orchestra concluded, but Phoebe was certain she had seen Dalton and Yuri slip outside. She longed to know what was being said between the two. Were they laughing at the memory of their little contest? Were they arguing over her? Yuri seemed upset after talking to her—what if his anger had caused them to come to blows? Suddenly Phoebe felt rather ill. She wanted to leave the party and go home.

What if I’ve truly made a mess of things?
She couldn’t help but feel that Yuri’s anger would not bode well for his friendship with Dalton. Slipping from the room, Phoebe paused in the kitchen to figure out what to do. Maybe she should go and talk to them—try to help them understand her feelings. On the other hand, maybe she should just leave.

“But I can’t just walk home. It’s much too dangerous,” she muttered. She would simply have to wait until her parents were ready to leave. If that meant embarrassment and humiliation, she would have to handle it.

“Can we talk a minute?”

Dalton stood only a foot or so away, and Phoebe turned, her eyes widening at the nearness of him. When had he come back inside? Had he overheard her comment? She forced a nod but couldn’t form any words.

“I very much enjoyed your solo,” he began. “I have always loved the music my mother and father make together, but I think I told you that once before. Anyway, the real reason I wanted to talk to you was to ask if you would be willing to see me tomorrow. I’d like to tell you about why I went away and what happened.”

Phoebe nodded, feeling rather overwhelmed by Dalton’s presence and the way her heart accelerated when she was with him.

He smiled. “Good. I’ll come to your house around ten, if that’s all right. Maybe if the weather is nice you’ll walk with me?”

“Yes,” she managed to say before someone claimed his attention.

Her mind whirled about one question: Was this the start of their courtship?

Dalton was glad to see the last of the guests head home. He was weary from traveling and craved only his own bed. Excusing himself, Dalton made his way to his room. He was pleased to see that a fire had been laid in and started. No doubt his mother or Zee had seen to it. The room was warm and welcoming. The covers on the bed had been turned down, and a pitcher of water awaited him by the fire.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off first one boot and then the other. He found himself thinking about how beautiful Phoebe Robbins had looked that evening. Her smile was so infectious he couldn’t help but grin just thinking about it.