[Song of Alaska 02] - Morning's Refrain (22 page)

“Again, such thinking is utter nonsense,” Lydia countered. “I believe you and Dalton are well suited to each other, and I intend to encourage him to call on you when he returns—though I doubt I shall have any need. He was already intrigued when he left. If I know my son as well as I believe I do, the absence and distance will have only served to add to his interest in you. But now I want to suggest an entirely different subject.”

Feeling there was no possibility of being any more embarrassed, Phoebe nodded. “What is it?”

“I wonder,” Lydia began, “if you would like to help Zee and I plan a party for Evie and Dalton’s return.”

She smiled at the thought. “I would love to. What would you like me to do?”

Lydia took the seat beside Phoebe. “I think we should like to decorate. Maybe you could help us in that area?”

Phoebe considered that for a moment. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but I would be happy to assist.”

“Zee had thought we should keep it simple. Maybe we could trim the room with some spruce boughs and ribbon. Oh, and we’ll use some of the candles I purchased from your mother.”

“I plan to make a cake,” Zee added. “And a nice pot of chicken and noodles. I’ve already picked out the intended donor. He’s a nice fat cockerel. The meat should be ever so delicious.”

“When will we plan to have the party?” Phoebe asked. “There’s no hope of knowing a fixed date for the steamer’s appearance.”

“We already thought of that,” Zee replied. “We’ll simply have everything ready to go and take care of the details at the last minute.” She grinned. “I can put the chicken in cold storage until needed.”

“I’ll make some invitations,” Lydia told Phoebe. “We will want to make sure that folks know we’ll have a celebration on the night the steamer comes into the harbor. Would you mind delivering them to the people in town?”

“Of course not. I’d be happy to.” Phoebe’s mind raced with thoughts. What would she wear to the party? Would that be when she had a chance to first see him again? The waiting was so very hard. What if she’d only managed to create something in her mind that could never be? What if her heart was wrong and she found Dalton to be someone she couldn’t abide?

Oh, why couldn’t the steamer arrive tomorrow and put her mind at ease?

Just then, the front door burst open, and Kjerstin and Britta burst into the house in a frenzy of movement and conversation.

“Mama, there was a fight at school today,” Britta announced.

“It was bad. One of the boys got a bloody nose,” Kjerstin added.

Phoebe watched as Lydia got to her feet to deal with the situation. “Well, hello to you, too,” their mother announced.

“Joseph called Vasilla a smelly half-breed,” Kjerstin added.

“His mother is a Tlingit, but his father is Russian. Teacher said he was a Creole.”

“But he wasn’t smelly at all,” Britta interjected. “He was just fine. I played with him, and he took a bath just last Saturday.”

The girls were so caught up in their reiteration of the details that they didn’t even seem to notice Phoebe. Britta explained Vasilla’s bathing routine in more detail. Apparently the boy always had a bath on Saturday before they went to church the next day. His mother and father were members at the Russian Orthodox Church, and they were very meticulous about Vasilla being clean before entering God’s house.

Kjerstin was more concerned about the injustice of it all. She seemed appalled that the other children, as well as the teacher, put the entire responsibility for the altercation at Vasilla’s feet.

“They don’t like him because he’s not all white. They said he should go to the native school,” Kjerstin announced. “I told them they were being silly, but they didn’t listen to me.” It was then that she seemed to notice Phoebe. “Your brother Grady called him a no-account dirty Injun.”

“Well, my brother Grady will not go unpunished, I assure you,” Phoebe replied. She was angry to think that her brother had played a part in this matter. “He was not brought up to speak that way or to hold such thoughts. Our parents will be appalled.”

Kjerstin nodded, satisfied at Phoebe’s response. She then looked to her mother. “Why are they so mean? They don’t like the Tlingits, and they don’t like people who are just part Tlingit.”

Lydia shook her head. “They think the color of a person’s skin somehow makes them less valuable, but we know that isn’t true. God holds all mankind dear, and He’s the one who made us— colors and all.”

“They have been misguided,” Zee threw in. “They don’t understand the culture and it makes them afraid.”

“They also don’t bother to know it,” Lydia added, “and that makes them ignorant.”

“Can’t they get to understand?” Britta asked. “I don’t want there to be more fights.”

“I wish there wouldn’t be, either,” their mother said. “Still, I think as long as we have differences, someone will be happy to point them out—to even condemn a person for those differences. Someone won’t like blond hair. Someone else will think that being a girl is bad. Others might not like people who talk with an accent. There will always be something that displeases people.”

Phoebe nodded. “And your mother and Zee are right. If the people would bother to learn about the cultures instead of condemning them, they might not be afraid.” She considered the words for herself. How many times had she crossed the street just to avoid having to walk past a group of Tlingits sitting on the walkway? The men, in particular, frightened Phoebe. They seemed harsh and resentful. Maybe it was just her imagination, but they appeared almost angry that she should even be there.

“Hopefully in time, with enough people showing tolerance and kindness instead of judgment,” Lydia told her daughters, “we will see this kind of temperament leave for good.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” Kjerstin said, crossing her arms. “I’m going to punch Joseph in the nose tomorrow and tell him so.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Lydia cautioned. “You are a young lady, and young ladies do not punch people in the nose.”

“Never?” Britta asked. “What if they punch you first?”

Phoebe couldn’t help but smile. “Young ladies,” Zee interjected, “should never be caught fighting.”

“So if we don’t get caught, then is it okay?” Kjerstin asked.

“ ’Cause I know a good place where no one would see me punch Joseph in the nose.”

“Kjerstin, I don’t want you punching anyone,” Lydia admonished. “Why don’t you pray for Joseph instead?”

“Well, he didn’t pray for Vasilla. He punched him,” Kjerstin countered.

Phoebe wanted to laugh. The little girl’s reasoning seemed logical. Kjerstin, however, was now shaking her head; clearly her mother’s wisdom did not meet with her understanding.

“So how did the situation get resolved?” Zee asked, changing their focus.

“Teacher said Vasilla needed to go home and take a bath,” Britta replied. “But he didn’t smell bad. He had a bath on Saturday,” she repeated, as if they had missed this important fact earlier. “Teacher said he couldn’t come back until he got cleaned up.”

Zee frowned. “I believe I will come to your school tomorrow and have a word with your teacher. She’s a good woman, but perhaps she misjudged the situation. There is no sense in letting the children belittle someone just because they are different.”

“Good,” Kjerstin said, as if this were at least a small compromise. “But don’t be surprised if she doesn’t listen.”

“I’m never surprised when people don’t listen,” Zee replied. “I’m just saddened.”

Phoebe thought about Zee’s comment long after she’d relayed the event to her mother. Grady was severely chastised and refused dessert that night. He thought it quite unfair. After all, to his way of thinking, they were all dirty Injuns. They lived outside for a good part of the year. They didn’t wear many clothes, and they were always sitting on the ground. How could they not be dirty?

Most people felt the same way. The Tlingit had been taught about hygiene from the American missionaries and teachers, but their way of living did not always provide for the same standards. Phoebe didn’t think that made them bad people, however. She sighed. The world was cruel at times.

She was getting ready for bed when she couldn’t help but hear her mother respond to something their father must have said. It sounded like “What are you saying?”

Slipping over to the door, she opened it just a crack to better hear. Her father was explaining something. “. . . it wasn’t that I didn’t suspect, but now that I know for sure, it will probably spell trouble.”

“But why must you get in the middle of it?”

“I’m the one in charge. I have worked with this young man for over three years. I am his superior. Lyman will expect me to handle the matter.”

Her mother sighed. “But he knows about your father.”

There was a terrible strained silence for several minutes before her father spoke. “I won’t allow him to damage Lyman’s reputation. It may well mean the end of my career, but I can hardly let him go on stealing from the government funds. If he exposes me, I will simply resign and we will return to the States. Perhaps we can relocate to California.”

Phoebe gasped and closed the door. “Relocate to California?” But what of Dalton? And what would this mean for their chance to get to know each other—to have a future?

Chapter 17

P
hoebe fretted for days over the things she’d heard her parents say. On the twenty-fourth of September, the steamer was finally sighted heading toward Sitka. A fishing vessel brought the news to town, and it was all Phoebe could do to keep her wits about her. She went through her wardrobe at least a dozen times, trying to decide on just the right thing to wear. She narrowed the choices to a lovely embroidered cream-colored suit, a two-piece silk dress that she sometimes wore to church, and a beautiful crepe de Chine gown in a lovely shade of pale blue.

None of the gowns would serve her very well if she helped in the kitchen, but Phoebe was determined to present a stunning picture to Dalton. This would be their first encounter since his departure, and she wanted it to be memorable.

“But in a good way,” she said aloud. “Not in the way I met him the first time.”

She had already decided she would await his return at the Lindquist house. Lydia wanted to meet him at the dock, and Phoebe thought that would give mother and son time to discuss the things that had happened in Kansas City. Kjell would drive the wagon, and Phoebe and Zee would continue working to make sure they were ready for the party.

Finally settling on the crepe de Chine, Phoebe called for her mother to help her do up the buttons. She could hardly stand still, thinking of all she still had to do before heading to the Lindquists.

“Phoebe, I can barely take hold of the buttons for all your dancing about.”

“Sorry, Mother. It’s just that . . . well . . . I’m excited.”

“About Dalton Lindquist returning?”

Phoebe pulled away and turned to face her mother. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Her mother smiled and moved her back into place so she could finish with the buttons. “He is a very nice young man, but you hardly know him.”

“I feel like I know him quite well,” Phoebe admitted. “I’ve spent so much time with his mother and great-aunt that I’ve heard all about his childhood and passions.”

“That’s all well and fine, but he doesn’t know you. He hasn’t had the same opportunity in his absence that you have. There, your buttons are secured.”

Phoebe thought again of what her father had said about leaving Sitka. She didn’t want to admit to her mother that she’d eavesdropped, but she longed for more details. “How would you feel if . . . well . . . what if I married Dalton?”

Her mother’s mouth dropped open. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t really know,” Phoebe replied with a sheepish grin. “The times we had together were . . . wonderful. Even when I fell out of the boat and he saved me, I can’t help but remember how it felt to be in his arms. He’s kind and considerate, yet a man of decisive action.”

“But, Phoebe, that’s not enough on which to base a marriage. You need to know each other on a personal level. Give yourself some time. Once he’s returned, he may very well come calling. That will give you both a chance to get to know each other. And what of Yuri? You seemed to like him well enough. I know you two had some sort of falling out, but you appeared to enjoy his company. How do you know that he might not make a better possibility?”