[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain (20 page)

“You seem completely out of sorts,” Evie said as she joined Dalton on the garden patio. The sun had long since descended from the Kansas City sky, but several gas lamps had been lit to softly illuminate the garden.

“I just don’t feel like I accomplished what I set out to do in coming here,” he said. “I had hoped to find a real connection to my father and my heritage. I expected to feel at least a slight attachment to the family. Instead, I feel nothing but sadness when I think of them.”

Pulling a metal case from her pocket, Evie handed it to Dalton. “Open it.”

He did as she suggested and looked down on a tintype of a man who very much resembled Marston and Mitchell. He glanced up at Evie with a questioning look in his eyes.

“That is our father, Floyd Gray. I thought perhaps you might like to have it.”

Dalton looked at the picture again. “Do I look like him?”

“No. You don’t look like him at all. You resemble your mother.”

“He looks so hard—unfeeling. Just like Marston and Mitchell.” He closed the case. “How can they be that way? Have they no heart at all?”

Evie sighed. “I think Father was raised with stern and unyielding temperaments. My mother was a gentle spirit, and her love and kind ways were my inspiration. Jeannette, however, was jealous of the attention Father gave the boys and she strived to do anything that might impress him—even if that meant becoming like him. Where our brothers could utilize that nature for business, it only served to make Jeannette appear shrewish.”

“I’m glad you took after your mother,” Dalton said with just a hint of a smile. He looked away and fixed his gaze on the lawn. “I suppose there will always be an empty place inside of me. Not knowing my father or understanding his ways leaves me with a void.”

Evie considered something for a moment. “I know we will leave tomorrow, but the train doesn’t depart until close to noon. I have an idea. I’d like to take you to the house where we grew up. Jeannette owns it now and much has been left as it was. I can even show you a painting of my mother. Everyone says I look just like her.”

Dalton nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Perhaps you will be able to see something of our father when you are there. Who can say? But no matter, I want you to be able to return to Sitka with a sense of accomplishment. I know this trip was important to you, just as it was to me.”

He looked at her and frowned. “I hope this journey brought you peace of mind.”

“It did. I find that so many doors can now be closed. I have a huge sense of relief in Thomas’s passing. I didn’t wish the man dead, but neither did I want things to go on as they were. I had planned to seek a divorce if I came here and found that he was really quite well and Jeannette had made up the entire story.”

“I know that would have been very hard for you to do,” Dalton said.

“Yes, but certainly no harder than what I’d already endured. To live all these years as a wife without a husband . . . well, that was difficult to say the least. Thomas didn’t want me or the love I had to offer. Now I’m free to find someone who does.”

“And I know just the man,” Dalton said, his expression changing to amusement. “Poor Joshua. He won’t know what hit him when you get home.”

“Dalton Lindquist!” she declared in mock horror. “How can you even say such things?”

Her brother laughed heartily at this, and that made her smile, as well. She was glad to see he could find joy in something.

“All I know,” Dalton finally answered, “is that Joshua is mad about you, and you are just as smitten with him. If you want my advice, Evie, don’t waste any time with silly traditions of mourning or courtship. March right into Josh’s office and tell him how you feel. You’ve waited long enough for love.”

She felt her cheeks flush at the image she had in her head. What if she’d misread Josh’s feelings for her? What if in her absence he had sought another? Evie forced the questions out of her mind. What if he had? She wouldn’t know the answer if she didn’t pose the question. Dalton was right. She needed to step up and try for what really mattered most of all.

Chapter 15

I
must say this is short notice,” Jeannette said, eyeing Evie and Dalton.

Dalton thought she looked like a nervous hen as she moved around the sitting room. Her lavender day dress seemed much too snug, adding to her awkward appearance.

“I’m sorry, but we leave in less than three hours,” Evie told Jeannette. “That’s why I called you last night.”

“Still, it was a very brief warning.”

“I didn’t know that you needed me to warn you of our arrival. We aren’t here on a hostile mission,” Evie replied, pulling off her gloves.

“Why
are
you here?” Jeannette asked. “You said very little last night.”

“Dalton wanted to see the home where his mother and father shared their life together.”

“To what purpose?” She sounded suspicious.

Dalton smiled. “Just the satisfaction of connecting to the past.”

Jeannette’s expression was one of annoyance. She looked back to Evie. “I suppose if you must. I’ll take you on a tour of the place and then we can have tea.”

“If you don’t mind, Jeannette, I’d rather take Dalton around on my own. We can stay out of any room you’d rather us not see.”

Jeannette looked offended, and Evie quickly added, “After that, we should have time to share tea with you.”

“I . . . well . . . it’s most unusual,” Jeannette declared.

“We can leave if you’d prefer,” Dalton told her.

“No!” Jeannette replied quickly. “I put all of my other plans aside for this morning. You might as well stay.”

Jeannette seemed very lonely to him, and Dalton couldn’t help but wonder if she really had had any other plans. She clearly didn’t want their company, but she desperately needed someone.

“Go ahead and see the house. All of the rooms are open,”

Jeannette said. “I will arrange for our refreshments.” She waited for Evie to nod before hurrying out of the room.

Dalton glanced around at the opulent room. The furnishings were a bit worn, but in every corner and flat surface there were a wide variety of knickknacks. He knew little about art or collectibles, but he figured their worth to be quite great.

“Are these things left over from your childhood?” he asked Evie.

“No. Jeannette has her own style and taste. Our mother liked things elegant, but not too overstated. I think the portrait is the only thing I recognize as hers,” Evie said, studying the painting that still hung over the fireplace.

“I thought that was you,” Dalton said in surprise. He looked again at the picture. “I noticed it when we came in. The resemblance is uncanny.”

Evie was momentarily lost in thought. Dalton could see that the portrait had some strange affect on her. He said nothing more, waiting for her to begin the conversation when she was ready.

Evie clearly had adored her mother. The memories she’d shared proved as much. Then added to this depth of feeling was the fact that Evie had seen her father—their father—kill her mother.

“And years later his son tried to kill mine,” he murmured.

Evie turned as if suddenly aware of him. “What?”

“I was just thinking about how our father killed her. Then years later his son—our brother—tried to kill my mother.”

“It is a strange bond to share, don’t you think?” Evie said, gazing into his eyes. “Funny, but I never shared a closeness with my other siblings. You are the only one who truly seems like a brother to me. You and I have these wonderful memories of good times and laughter. I have none of that with my older brothers. I don’t even have it with Jeannette.

“I know that moving to Sitka saved my life in a way,” she continued. “Not that I think anyone would have tried to kill me physically, but emotionally, every day they seemed to rob me of something precious. It was as if they knew they could take bits and pieces of my spirit, just a little at a time, and eventually they would have it all. I would simply fail to exist.”

Dalton could see the pain in her eyes. He felt an overwhelming sorrow for Evie. Her life here had been a cruel hoax. There had been the pretense of a family but none of the love and joy that should have been present.

Evie hugged her arms to her dark blue traveling suit. Her gaze traveled back up to the painting of the blond-haired woman. “She was just a year older than I am now, yet she looks so ancient. Her eyes are haunting and hollow. This wasn’t how she had been with me. This is a portrait she had made for our father. It was her Christmas gift to him. That and her death.”

Putting his arm around Evie’s shoulders, Dalton felt her tremble. “He can’t hurt you anymore. None of them can.”

She looked at him as if begging him to assure her. He hugged her closer. “We’ll soon be home, Evie. We won’t have to be influenced by any of them.”

“I want to believe that,” she said, giving the slightest nod. “It’s just much harder than I thought.”

“Coming here?”

“Yes.”

“Evie, we can go. I don’t need to see anything more,” Dalton told her.

“Maybe not. But I do.” She glanced upward. “I need to go back to the attic. I haven’t been there since . . . that day.”

“Are you certain you want to do this?”

She nodded. “I think I must. It will free me from the past.”

“Then by all means, lead the way. I will go with you, and we will face it together.”

Evie rambled about one thing or another as they made their way through the house and up the grand staircase. She told Dalton stories of playing on the stairs while the young maids polished the newels and banister. When they came to the second floor, she showed Dalton where Lydia’s room had been.

“It’s still very much as it was,” she told him. “I think the bedding and rugs have changed, but the draperies look much the same.”

Dalton could see there was great wear on the panels. “It would seem so.” He fought back thoughts of his father beating his mother—of the horrible night he’d been conceived. How could any man be so cruel? Would he grow older and turn out to be like Floyd Gray? His brothers had mirrored their father’s heartlessness. Was it hereditary?

“Are you all right?” Evie asked.

“Like you, I have my demons. Mother told me how cruel our father was to her. She said I was not conceived in love, but rather as the result of his attack.”

It was Evie’s turn to offer comfort. “I’m so sorry, Dalton. I cannot lie and say her life here was pleasant. I don’t believe she ever knew a happy day here. If not enduring Father’s temper, she had to contend with us—her stepchildren. Our brothers would not offer any respect, much less love. Jeannette hated her for taking our mother’s place, but I loved her. Even then.”

Evie’s eyes welled with tears. “I was so young when Mother died, and the manner of her death filled me with despair and fear. I just knew Father would find out I’d seen him, and then he would do the same to me.”

“My mother was so young when she married Father,” Dalton said. “She must have been quite afraid.”

“I know there were times when she was sorely abused, but Lydia always reached out to me. She knew that the others would offer her nothing, but I wanted her tenderness, and she needed my love. We couldn’t be open about it, of course. Jeannette would box my ears whenever she found me in Lydia’s company. She would drag me away on some pretense and tell me that I was in no manner to be kind to that woman. To love Lydia, Jeannette said, was to hate our mother. And if we hated our mother, we would suffer a great punishment from God.”

“And did you believe her?”

Evie drew a deep breath and sighed. “I think I did at times. Remember, in the back of my mind was the fear that Father would kill me. Part of the reason I’ve wanted to be with Lydia these years is because she alone understands my painful life—the horror of being forced to marry a much older man, whom you didn’t know, much less love.”

They moved from the room and back toward the staircase. “Mother tried to make a pleasant home, but Father would have no part of it. Jeannette told me that Mother often tried to fuss over Marston and Mitchell. She tried to show them affection and tenderness, and Father accused her of trying to weaken his sons and make them into milk sops.”

“It’s so sad,” Dalton said as they approached the third floor.

“There but for the grace of God, it might have been me.”

Evie nodded. “I’ve often thought of that, too. I’m glad God gave you a better father. Kjell is a remarkable man, and he’s given me hope that not all men are vicious and cruel.”

Glancing to the right, she pointed. “This floor was mostly for the servants.” Turning to the left, she moved down the hall and Dalton quickly stepped to match her strides. When they reached the end of the hall she stopped. “To the left are the servants’ stairs.”

“And this?” Dalton asked as he pointed to the right.

She looked at the door and frowned. “This goes to the attic.” Evie seemed to collect her thoughts for a moment. “When I was a little girl I loved to sneak up here. I would dig through the old trunks and crates and find all kinds of interesting things. I also liked it because it was so quiet and because my mother would also come up here.”