[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain (6 page)

“I know the people up here use a great deal of oil—whale, seal, and even a type of fish, although the name escapes me. We might be able to utilize some of these things in our candle making.”

“Yes, but as Father said, getting any kind of supply brought to us from the States will be quite expensive. We may well find it a futile effort.”

Her mother shrugged. “Perhaps, but I will not disappoint my ancestors and put it aside. I will do whatever I can to continue. Now, why don’t you make the cookies while I continue unpacking the crates. We’ll go to the Lindquists after our noontime meal.”

“Lindquist? That’s his name?”

“That’s the family name. Kjell and Lydia Lindquist are the parents of the young man who saved you. His name is Dalton.”

Phoebe smiled. “Dalton.” She let the name slip over her tongue. She could still see his blue eyes staring hard at her. “Very well. I will make cookies for Dalton.”

They were nearly to the Lindquist house when Phoebe got a case of the jitters. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she told her mother. There was something about Dalton Lindquist and the memory of his arms around her that greatly unnerved her.

The older woman laughed and brought the wagon to a stop. “Well, it’s a little late to decide that now. We’re already here. See there, the women have come to greet us.”

Phoebe looked up to see a dark-haired woman, dressed simply in a white muslin shirtwaist and a dark blue cotton skirt. Beside her stood a much-older-looking woman who wore her hair in a short bob rather than pinned atop her head.

“Good afternoon, ladies. We are so pleased to have you visit,” the younger of the two women announced. “I’m Lydia Lindquist, and this is my aunt, Miss Zerelda Rockford.”

“But folks around here call me Zee,” the older woman threw in.

Phoebe helped her mother down, then turned to smile. Her mother made quick introductions. “I’m Bethel Robbins, and this is my daughter, Phoebe. She’s the one your son, Dalton, saved from drowning.”

Phoebe bowed her head quickly. Her mother needn’t have reminded everyone of the incident now several days past. How humiliating to have one’s mistakes thrown out for everyone to comment upon.

“We are very happy to make your acquaintance. We thought it might be nice to have tea out here on the porch since the day is so pleasant. Would that be to your liking?” Mrs. Lindquist asked.

Phoebe’s mother nodded. “Oh, that would be ideal.” Forgetting about her offering of cookies and the man she’d come to honor, Phoebe instead studied the two-story log house. It was quite lovely.

Someone had taken great care in the details.

Lydia Lindquist directed them to take seats at the small tea table. Lovely hand-carved wooden chairs graced the arrangement.

The backs were ornate with a lovely design of hearts and flowers.

In Vermont, she had known a family of Swedes who had furnished their home entirely with furniture from the old country. Their dining room chairs were similar to the ones Phoebe now studied.

“Please be seated,” Lydia instructed. “I shall bring out the refreshments.”

She and the older woman made their way back into the house while Phoebe took the opportunity to lean closer to her mother. “They seem very nice.”

“I was thinking much the same. Apparently, they harbor no ill feelings toward you.”

“And you are certain these are the right people—that their son is the one who saved me?”

Her mother laughed. “Of course. You know that your father leaves nothing to chance. He knew their names before you had even managed to change into dry clothing.” Mother glanced around. “Such a lovely setting, and so peaceful. I like that it’s well away from the bustle of the docks. Seems we are always inundated with noise in our new home.”

“It is nice,” Phoebe admitted. “Still, I miss Vermont. I used to think our town so tiny, but compared to Sitka, Montpelier seems huge.”

“Here we are,” Lydia announced as she came out the door with a large silver tea service. She placed the tray on the table, and Zerelda followed suit by arranging a platter on either side. Phoebe could see that the one held bite-size pieces of dessert, while the other had tiny sandwiches.

The woman called Zee offered a prayer of thanks, then began pouring tea. “We were happy to meet the new governor. Are you well acquainted with him?” Zee asked.

Phoebe’s mother nodded. “We have been friends for some time now. I know his wife, Martha, quite well.”

“And what are his intentions for Alaska?”

“Zee, they’ve only just arrived. Must we wax political right away?”

The older woman handed Phoebe a cup and saucer. “You must forgive me. I’m one who always tends to get right to the heart of a matter.”

“It’s quite all right,” Mother answered in her best diplomatic tone. “I really cannot say what the governor has planned. He is a fair man and very intelligent. I believe he has a good heart, as well.”

“Has he any experience that would give him knowledge of such a situation?” Zee pressed.

“In what way?”

Phoebe could see that Mrs. Lindquist was rather uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Thinking she might change the subject, Phoebe held up her cup. “Might I trouble you for some sugar?”

“Certainly,” Lydia said. She reached for the sugar service and opened the lid. “You are such a lovely young woman.” Her genuine smile immediately put Phoebe at ease. “May I ask your age?”

“Phoebe is eighteen,” her mother interjected. “Just this last March. She is my oldest. We have two sons, Theodore and Grady, as well.”

“We have two young daughters besides our son, Dalton,” Lydia offered. “Kjerstin is ten, and Britta is seven. They should return soon from school. Dalton will bring them, and then you’ll have a chance to thank him in person, Miss Robbins.”

Phoebe felt her face grow hot. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very congenial at our first meeting. I’m sure he probably told you.”

Mrs. Lindquist and her aunt exchanged a look that suggested they had no idea what Phoebe was talking about.
Great
, she thought. He hadn’t said anything, and now she would have to explain—all because she had to open her big mouth in defense.

“Dalton said very little, actually. He’s a man of few words,” his mother offered. “I’m sure the shock of your accident left him little concern as to your reaction. I can say that if I had fallen into the harbor, I might have lacked congeniality, too.” She smiled warmly, again putting Phoebe at ease.

Her mother picked up one of the offered sweets. “Phoebe made him some cookies to show her gratitude.”

“Then all will be perfectly well,” Zee announced. “There are few things that boy likes more.”

“I find that true of most men,” Phoebe’s mother replied. “Might I ask how long you’ve made your home here in Sitka, Miss Rockford?”

Zerelda smiled and eased back in the chair. “I’ve been here since before the purchase. When Russia sold Alaska to America, I was already a citizen. I came here to work as a nurse for a German family. The wife took ill quite often and needed constant care. Later, my niece moved here, as well, and we’ve managed to stay on ever since.”

“My husband, Kjell, was born and raised here,” Lydia added.

“So you certainly know all there is to know about the place.”

Phoebe knew her mother had a million unanswered questions. Not the least of which was concerns about the Indians. As if reading her daughter’s mind, she pressed on.

“What do you know of the Indians here?”

Zerelda raised a brow. “Enough to know they don’t like to be called Indians. They are Tlingits. The Russians call them the Kolash.”

“I haven’t seen very many of them. Are they . . . well . . . are there many here?”

“Quite a few, but this is summer and they are out gathering food. They live in the village for most of the winter, then head out around April, when the herring spawn. They’ll be gone for most of the summer and early fall, hunting and even visiting other
kwaans
. Those are tribal units of other Tlingits. The group here is called the
Sheet’ká kwaan,
or ‘inhabitants of Sitka.’ ”

Phoebe sensed her mother’s discomfort at this comeuppance. “And what are these people like, Miss Rockford? We have seen only a few of them around the town. They are rather frightening with their faces painted black and red. Is this normal, or are they dressed that way for a specific purpose?”

“It serves various purposes, not the least of which is protection against the sun and insects,” Zerelda replied. “The flies and mosquitoes can be vicious up here, if you haven’t already encountered them. This remedy has served them well.”

Mother gave a shiver. “Well, they are rather frightening to me.”

“They are good people,” Mrs. Lindquist said. “Their skill in fishing and herbal remedies is not to be underestimated. I have learned so much since coming here, and a great bit of that knowledge has come from the native people. They have problems, just as anyone would, but I find most Tlingits to be highly industrious. You will learn this for yourself come fall. When they return for the winter, you will find the town quite populated with them.”

“Are they violent? I heard they’ve had uprisings here. Someone mentioned it on the ship.”

“There have been issues from time to time,” Mrs. Lindquist conceded. “But all people—white or otherwise—disagree from time to time. We have no further to look than our own War Between the States. Which reminds me—I understand that your husband and our new governor are heroes of that war.”

Phoebe admired how easily and quickly Mrs. Lindquist moved the conversation away from the controversy of the Tlingit people. She knew her mother was happy to share praise for her father’s accomplishments. He and the governor had both been highly honored for their service.

The ladies continued to exchange pleasantries until the sound of an approaching wagon reached their ears. Phoebe couldn’t help but feel a nervous anticipation when Mrs. Lindquist announced that her son and daughters had returned.

“I’d love to show you around the property,” Mrs. Lindquist told Phoebe’s mother. “Would you care to see my home?”

“Oh, please.” She looked to Phoebe rather conspiratorially. “I was hoping for just such an invitation.”

The ladies laughed at this. Mrs. Lindquist waved to her children. The little girls leaped from the wagon into their brother’s strong arms before flying up the walk to greet their mother.

“Dalton promised to take us to see the jellyfish. Can we go today?” the smallest one asked.

“Where are your manners, Miss Britta?” Mrs. Lindquist asked.

The girl paused. Her eyes grew wide. Giving a brief curtsy toward Phoebe and her mother, the little girl offered her apology. “I am sorry, and I am perfectly happy to meet you.”

Phoebe couldn’t suppress a giggle. She dipped in return. “And I am perfectly happy to meet you.”

“I’m Kjerstin,” her sister announced. “She’s Britta.”

“And I am Phoebe, and this is my mother, Mrs. Robbins.”

After a moment of silence, Britta turned back to her mother. “So can we go see the jellyfish?”

“Not just yet,” their mother replied. “Why don’t you run upstairs and change your clothes. I was just about to give Mrs. Robbins a tour of the house. I believe Miss Phoebe would like to speak to your brother.”

Britta leaned close to Phoebe. “Don’t let him kiss you. He’s been eating lutefisk.”

Phoebe had no idea what lutefisk was, but the fact that Dalton’s little sister would tell a complete stranger not to kiss her brother was rather shocking. She didn’t know what to say, and when she looked up to meet the equally surprised faces of the women around her, she was further humiliated to find Dalton had overheard the entire thing.

He only laughed. “Britta, you are such a ninny.”

Everyone chuckled except Phoebe. She felt hopelessly embarrassed and quickly moved away from the group. “I’ll be right back.” She made her way to the wagon, where she’d left the cookies. Taking several deep breaths, she fought against the pounding of her heart.

My, but his eyes were even bluer than she’d remembered. He had a stubbly growth of whiskers that suggested he’d not shaved that day, and all Phoebe could think about was touching his face.

“You are the ninny,” she chided herself in a mumble.

She reached over the side of the wagon for the plate of cookies and had just lifted them over the edge when Dalton spoke from directly behind her.

“Might I help you?”

Phoebe had such a start that she threw the plate high into the air. This was followed by a muffled cry and a frantic flailing to secure the lost treats.

Losing her balance, she stumbled back against Dalton. He tried to steady her, but they both realized too late that this was impossible. He fell backward, his hands still secured about her waist. Phoebe followed him down, landing on top of his stomach—and a loud groan broke the silence. The only problem was, it wasn’t her loud groan.

“I’m so sorry.” She tried to free herself, but her gown was caught beneath his hip. When she fought to pull it away, Dalton quickly raised up. When he did so, the dress released and Phoebe pitched face-first onto the ground.