Dawn's Prelude (29 page)

“Kjell! Zerelda!” Dr. Ensign called to them from the top of the steps. “It’s Lydia. She’s waking up.”

Kjell bounded up the stairs, taking the steps two at time. He completely forgot about Zerelda and rushed past the doctor and into the ward. He could see Lydia stirring and went to her side.

“Liddie? Darling, I’m here. Talk to me,” he pleaded.

Slowly, Lydia opened her eyes and blinked hard several times.

She looked at him oddly, obviously confused by her state. “Water.”

She croaked the word.

Kjell reached over to the pitcher and poured a glass of water.

“Here, let me help you.” He put his arm around her and lifted her just a bit to drink. She grimaced in pain but said nothing.

By now the doctor and Zerelda had joined them. As Kjell eased Lydia back against the pillows, she looked from one person to the next. “Where . . . am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” the doctor answered as he came to her side. “How do you feel?”

“I hurt,” she said, reaching up to touch the place where her shoulder and neck connected. “What happened?”

Kjell and the doctor exchanged a glance. Everything in Kjell tensed. “What do you remember?” he asked.

Lydia shook her head. “I don’t remember anything.”

Her face seemed to contort, but whether from confusion or pain, Kjell couldn’t be sure. He reached out and took hold of her hand. “It’s all right, Liddie. You don’t have to remember it all right now.”

She looked at their entwined hands and then back to Kjell’s face. “Who are you?”

Looking at Zerelda and then to the doctor, Kjell felt his throat close up. “What do you mean—you know who I am.”

Lydia studied him for a moment, then looked at Zerelda, and finally Dr. Ensign. “I don’t know any of you.”

The doctor frowned. “You don’t know your aunt—your husband?”

“Husband?” Lydia stared at Kjell. “You’re my husband?”

“I am.” Kjell could barely speak.

Zerelda stepped closer. “Sweetheart, do you know who you are?”

Lydia seemed to consider this question for a moment, then shook her head. “No.” She frowned and pulled her hand away from Kjell. “I have no idea.” She tried to sit up.

“Don’t,” the doctor warned. “You’ll tear your stitches and start bleeding again.”

“I don’t want to be here. I don’t remember what happened.” Lydia’s tone took on a definite sense of fear. “What’s wrong with me?”

“There was a storm, and you were injured,” the doctor said softly. “You were brought here to the hospital. Your wounds and the shock of their infliction have caused you to temporarily lose your memory. Don’t be afraid. It sometimes happens.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Dr. Ensign. I’ve been taking care of you.”

She seemed to accept this and nodded ever so slightly before looking to Zerelda. “And you . . . you’re my aunt?”

“I am, although you have become much more like a daughter to me.”

“Where is my mother?”

Zerelda bit her lower lip and looked to the doctor. Kjell saw the man nod as if encouraging her to explain. “Your mother passed on a long time ago.”

“She’s dead?” Lydia questioned, putting her hand over her eyes. “Why can’t I remember?”

“Don’t fret, child. I’ve seen this kind of thing before. It will pass in time. You need to rest for now.” Dr. Ensign motioned to Zerelda and Kjell to come with him. “I’ll send the orderly in with something to calm your nerves.”

Lydia said nothing. She studied Kjell as he stepped away from the bed. He could feel her gaze upon him even as he exited the room. He wanted to scream in despair and cry for joy all at the same time. Lydia was alive and awake. It was a miracle that she had survived the attack. But her memory was gone. She didn’t know him—didn’t realize that she loved him or that he loved her.

They made their way to Dr. Ensign’s office in stunned silence.

Once they were seated, it was several minutes before the doctor addressed the situation.

“The mind is quite delicate,” he told them. “It often cannot process shock. The circumstances of the attack, not to mention the blood loss, would be enough to cause her brain to . . . well, not function as it had before. We know so little about the way the mind works, but as I said, I’ve seen this before.”

“What can be done?” Kjell asked.

“Nothing. We must be careful not to give her further shock. We mustn’t lose patience with her inability to remember. We cannot try to force her knowledge of the past.”

Kjell focused on the wooden floor. He felt like he was on a boat that had suddenly lost its buoyancy. Water was rushing in and would soon sink his vessel, but there was no understanding of how to stop it—how to fix the situation.

“There is one thing we must be extremely cautious about,” the doctor continued. “Say nothing of the baby. I’m afraid in her delicate state of mind, it would cause her to lose her grip on reality altogether. I doubt she could withstand the truth.”

Zerelda nodded and took hold of Kjell’s hand. “Perhaps we should accept this as a blessing in disguise. It gives us and Lydia time.”

Kjell’s anger got the better of him. “Time for what? What possible hope can we give her?”

The older woman’s expression softened. “Time for healing, Kjell. Maybe Lydia will never remember us or the baby, but she can learn to know us again. She lived with such a painful past, maybe it’s best she not remember any of it. Maybe that’s God’s gift to her.”

“Some gift. He allows her child to be taken, along with her memory.” Kjell couldn’t fight the bitterness in his tone. He got to his feet. “I can’t sit here any longer.”

He stormed from the room and out of the hospital. He had no idea where he would go, but for now, he couldn’t be there. Lydia took no comfort in his presence. Once again, he was unable to help.

Lydia tried to force her mind to clear. No matter how hard she tried, nothing of her life came back to her. She felt alone and afraid. Her wounds left her weak and in pain, but she felt overwhelmed by the blank slate of her memory.

“Who am I? Why can’t I remember?”

The woman who called herself Zerelda came into the room. She smiled as she approached. “Am I disturbing you?”

She studied the woman, trying hard to place her.

“Do you mind if I sit and talk with you for a few minutes?”

Lydia shook her head. “No. That would be fine.”

“I know you’re confused right now. Probably scared, too. I know I would be if I couldn’t remember who I was or who anyone else was, for that matter.”

“It’s very frightening. I know I should be able to remember things—that I should know you . . . but I don’t.”

The woman had such compassion in her expression that Lydia immediately felt at ease. This person obviously cared a great deal about her. Lydia could sense that much.

“Tell me about my past. Tell me who I am. Who you are.”

“Well, I’m your aunt Zerelda Rockford. Some folks call me Zee. I am your father’s sister.”

“And where is my father?”

Lydia sensed the woman felt uncomfortable with her question.

“Is he dead, too? Like my mother?”

Zerelda nodded. “Yes. He passed on almost a year ago.”

“How?”

Again the woman shifted and seemed to consider her words.

“There was a carriage accident. He was injured and died shortly afterward. You moved up here to be with me shortly after that. Do you remember anything about the move?”

Lydia thought for a moment. “No. Nothing comes to mind.”

“Well, this is the town of Sitka in Alaska. We’re on an island in the far northwest. It’s not a big town by the standards of most American towns, but by Alaska standards, it’s very large.”

“Are you my only family?”

Zerelda couldn’t hide a momentary look of surprise. Lydia figured it had to do with the man that had been there earlier. “I know I’m married to that . . . that . . . man.”

“Yes, to Kjell Lindquist.” Lydia saw the woman’s face light up.

“He’s a good man, Lydia, and you loved him quite dearly. You two made the perfect couple.”

“So we were happy?”

“Oh, very much so and in love.” Zerelda laughed. “You haven’t been married that long. Just since last November. Kjell’s been so worried, he hasn’t wanted to leave your side.”

Lydia considered this for a moment. The man did seem very kind, and he looked at her with such concern. He must truly love her if he’d spent so much time watching over her. “How did we meet?”

Zerelda seemed amused by this question. “When you arrived you were exhausted. The travel had made you . . . seasick . . . and . . . well, you were extremely weak. You walked up the wharf and promptly fainted into Kjell’s arms. When you came to, you explained who you were and that you were looking for me. Kjell knew me and brought you to my cabin.”

Lydia tried to absorb the information, but it was proving too much. In fact, instead of offering comfort, it only served to make her more frustrated. Why couldn’t she remember? “I think I should rest now.”

Zerelda patted her hand. “Yes, I’m sure that would be best. Just know that I love you, Liddie. I love you dearly and always will. We’ll get through this with God’s help.”

Lydia nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.” But even as her aunt got up to leave, Lydia felt overwhelmed with doubt. Would she ever remember the past? Would she ever have memory of her husband and what had caused her to fall in love with him?

And if she didn’t, could she be a wife to him?

Chapter 24

I
n the end, it wasn’t Evie or Trayton who suggested she travel to Chicago. It was Thomas himself. Evie was stunned when her husband brought up the topic.

“You seem to be rather melancholy, my dear,” he announced as Evie looked up from a book. She found Trayton and Thomas had entered the library as if on some important business.

“I’m fine,” she replied, uncertain of what else to say.

“Well, I had a marvelous idea. I’m sending Trayton to Chicago. I think it would work well for you to travel with him. There is a great deal to do in that marvelous city. A few days away would do you good, and with Trayton along, I wouldn’t have to worry about your safety.”

Evie glanced at Trayton and felt her heart pick up its pace. He was very nearly smirking at her, as if he knew she was helpless to refuse him.

“Trayton assures me it won’t be a bother to him. He’s a good man—probably the best on my staff.”

Swallowing hard, Evie found she couldn’t speak. She looked again from her husband to his secretary. She could still feel his lips upon hers, smell the scent of his cologne.

Trayton held her gaze with smoldering passion in his eyes.

Evie wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t.

Thomas was already busying himself with a stack of papers.

“I’ll make all of the arrangements. I’ll see to it that two of your maids accompany you, as well. Now run along and see to your packing, my dear.”

His voice broke the spell, and Evie quickly got to her feet.

“I don’t . . . think . . . I really shouldn’t go. My sister hasn’t been feeling well of late, and I should probably stay close to home in case she takes a bad turn.” Evie knew Jeannette had nothing more than a cold, but it gave her a reasonable excuse.

“Nonsense,” Thomas replied, not even bothering to look up from his papers. “Your sister will be just fine, and you won’t be gone more than a fortnight, at the most. Now go and pack.”

Evie moved across the room as if under a spell. She felt helpless, unable to keep the situation from tumbling out of control.

As she passed Trayton, he reached out and touched her fingers.

She pulled her hand to her breast as if burned. He smiled in amusement.

Nothing about the situation made any sense. Evie had been prepared to ask her husband to allow her to accompany Trayton to Chicago, but when the suggestion came from Thomas, it felt awkward. It was odd that he had brought up the trip. Had she truly seemed melancholy? And even if she had, when had Thomas ever given her more than a passing glance?

Her stomach churned at the thought of being alone with Tray-ton. There was a part of her that very much wanted to be with him, and another part that wrestled with the impropriety. She had not been raised to be a religious woman, but she knew that it was wrong to commit adultery. Still, there was no real conviction on her part. She lived in a world where her father and brothers made their own rules, and morals were never considered important unless they came with a monetary value attached.

Starting up the grand staircase, Evie realized she didn’t know when they would leave. Thomas had only told her to pack. She drew a deep breath and went back to the library. Hopefully Trayton would have the good sense to ignore her.

Evie reached for the door and paused as she heard her husband laugh heartily. “If you impregnate her,” he told Trayton, “I will give you a bonus of one thousand dollars.”

Her eyes widened as Thomas continued. “There is already enough talk about me, and a child or two might put such gossip to rest.”

“Why not simply deal with the task yourself?” Trayton asked.

Again Thomas laughed. “Because I have no interest in . . . her. I married her only for her father’s fortune and the connections he promised. When he died, much of that was lost. I cannot divorce her without risking my own inheritance. So I play this game. She is kept very nicely here, and now with your help, she will receive the romantic attention she desires. I will continue to pay you well, but that money also ensures your silence and discretion.”