Twilight's Serenade (14 page)

She watched for a moment as Brenton secured the reins while Yuri assisted Phoebe down from the buggy. Yuri didn’t look any too happy, leaving Britta to wonder what Brenton had already said. Rather than plunging herself into the midst of the situation, she briefly contemplated escaping from sight.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Kay said, surprising Britta. “I came over to see if you needed any help with the girls.”

Britta looked to where Brenton was now chatting with her mother. Kay followed suit and noted the situation. “Is that someone you know?”

“I’m afraid so,” she said with a sigh. “I suppose I should go speak with him.”

“Who is he?”

“He is the complication that led me to come home. He wants me to marry him.” Kay’s mouth dropped open. Britta quickly added, “Don’t even get started on your questions. I’ll have Mother’s and Phoebe’s to answer in just a few moments, so I’m saving my strength.”

Then all at once, she saw Yuri. He locked gazes with her, and Britta felt her knees grow weak. Was he angry or upset? She couldn’t tell at all what his expression suggested. What would Yuri think of her if Brenton had mentioned his proposal?

“Kay, would you please stay with the children?”

The dark-eyed woman nodded, still unable to speak. Britta hurried toward her parents’ house, catching her mother’s watchful eye.

“Ah, here’s Britta now,” her mother announced.

“Hello, Brenton. Why are you here?” She didn’t even give pretense to propriety.

“He was just telling us that you two are engaged,” her mother interjected. The expression on her face made it clear that Britta wasn’t going to be able to get out of this mess easily.

“I’m afraid Mr. Maltese is mistaken. He proposed, but I have not yet agreed to marry him.” Britta turned back to Brenton. “I told you I would give you my answer no later than the first of June.”

“I know,” he replied with a sheepish grin, “but I was growing restless in waiting. Surely you understand.” He twisted his hat in his hands. “Then I thought it might do me good to see where you grew up.”

“Well, it’s certainly not doing me any good.”

“That’s an awful thing to say, Britta,” her mother reprimanded. “You should apologize for your behavior,”

The comment completely embarrassed Britta. She felt as if she were six years old again. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now.”

She turned and hurried away from the gathering. This was not at all what she had wanted. In fact, Britta had hoped the entire matter might be resolved without her having to make any decision at all. She had imagined that by delaying and maintaining her distance, Brenton would forget his proposal and simply go away. Of course, that was a childish wish.

Britta made her way to the woodshop. The scent of cedar assaulted her nose. It was a comforting smell that made her think of Father. How she longed for his return. She needed to know that he was all right, but she also needed him for counsel. She sighed and sank to a wooden bench.

What a mess. How in the world was she supposed to resolve this situation? She now knew without a doubt that she didn’t love Brenton, at least not as much as she should if she were going to marry him. He was a great man. He had so much to offer a wife, but she wasn’t that woman.

Furthermore, Britta knew that playing in his orchestra wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted Yuri . . . just as she had when she’d left Sitka six years ago.

“Why didn’t you tell us about him?” Yuri asked.

She hadn’t heard him come in, and seeing him now only served to make Britta all the more uncomfortable. She shifted but said nothing.

Yuri stepped closer. “You only talked about the orchestra position.”

“Well, one was pretty much the same as the other,” she said with a shrug.

He eyed her carefully. “What do you mean?”

Britta gave a sigh. She might as well come clean. “Brenton is the founder and leader of the new orchestra. He was the one who arranged for the sponsors and found the musicians. He was also my violin teacher.”

“I see. And you fell in love?”

Britta looked up and met Yuri’s eyes. “I fell in love . . . but not with him.”

Yuri frowned. “Then with whom?”

She nearly blurted out,
You, stupid!
but instead drew a deep breath. “I fell in love with the idea of living the life of a musician,” she lied. “Anyway, by coming home, I realized that I didn’t want that life at all.”

“Because of the children?”

“Only in part.”

“Why else would you stay?”

Britta turned her back to him as she got to her feet. “I don’t expect you to understand. You’ve distanced yourself from Sitka, but I love it here. I love Alaska. Everything I’ve ever loved is right here.” She forced herself not to turn around. If he saw her eyes, he’d surely know her heart.

Sensing the danger of continuing, Britta calmly walked to the door. “I suppose I need to talk to Brenton. Would you mind telling him to meet me at the bench?”

“All right.” Yuri followed her out of the woodshop, just as she knew he would.

“I’ll be there waiting for him.”

She knew Yuri wanted to talk to her about the situation in greater detail, but if she said even one more word to him in this state of mind, she knew she would say all the wrong things.

Walking slowly past the garden, Britta made her way to the bench her father had built. He’d placed it in the shade of tall spruce trees near the stream that flowed through their property. It made a peaceful and secluded retreat. One could sit there unobserved to reflect upon the day or, as in this case, to deliver bad news.

A sigh escaped her lips as she settled upon the bench. Why couldn’t Yuri see how much she loved him? Would she have to be the one to bare her heart first? She knew he cared for her, but perhaps he couldn’t see beyond the past. She had always been like a little sister to him. Well, at least until last night.

She smiled at that memory. He had looked at her for the first time as if truly seeing the woman she’d become. And Britta hadn’t seen a bit of disapproval in his expression.

“Britta?”

It was Brenton. The noise he made in his approach told her that, if not his voice. “I’m here.” She got to her feet and stepped into sight.

He smiled and rushed to greet her. “Your friend told me where you were. I knew you would want to see me alone.” Without warning he swept her into his arms. “I’ve missed you more than words can say.”

She stiffened. “Please release me.”

“What’s wrong? What have I done?”

She maneuvered away from him and pointed to the bench. “Please be seated. We need to talk.”

“That’s why I’ve come.” There was so much adoration in his expression that Britta couldn’t be mad at him. “I needed to see you.”

“I told you not to come. I told you I needed time to think about this,” she said without condemnation. “It was important to me.”

He nodded and reached out to take her hand. “I know. I don’t mean to take that from you. Please forgive me.”

Britta stepped back and again motioned to the bench. This time, however, she decided to join him. “Please sit.” She took her place, immediately bringing Brenton to her side.

“This is a wonderful place. I can see why you love it.” He glanced upward at the tall spruce. “And the scent is just as you used to describe. So crisp and clean.”

“It’s my home,” Britta began. “I am more attached to it than I ever believed.”

“I can understand. There is great harmony here. Even a melody of sorts. Listen to how the wind hums through the trees, then the water makes a gentle rippling sound like that of trained fingers upon harp strings. I could write wonderful music here.”

“I feel the same way,” she replied, hoping he would begin to understand that she could not go to England.

“We would always come and visit,” he said, surprising her. “We would plan lengthy trips to refresh our souls. I could make arrangements for such things. Wouldn’t it be grand?” He fixed her with a smile, his dark eyes dancing.

“My father and brother are missing,” she said without really thinking.

“I know. Your mother and sister-in-law both mentioned it. I am sorry. The earthquake was quite devastating. I saw pictures in the newspaper.”

“How bad was it really, Brenton?”

He frowned. “Most likely as bad as everyone says. Much of the town has burned to ashes. It wasn’t enough that the earthquake took its toll, but fire swept through so quickly, there was really no hope of controlling it.” He seemed to realize the heartlessness of his statement. “But I’m sure your father and brother would have had a good chance of escape.”

“Then why have we not heard from them? Why are they not here?”

Brenton reached up to touch her cheek. “I’m so sorry, my dear. It seems my arrival here has done nothing but bring you sorrow.”

She felt sorry for him, and for just a moment she tried to force her heart into the mold that might allow her to say yes to his proposal. He was a good man. Maybe that was enough for a decent marriage and pleasant life. Yuri would give the girls to an orphanage or her sister, and Britta could leave Sitka to travel the world with Brenton. Then, as he said, they would return here often for respite. It should be enough—shouldn’t it? Yuri could go his own way and never have to come back to Sitka again if he didn’t wish.

With a sigh, she stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she said, knowing that she couldn’t pretend to love him. Brenton had been a good friend to her, and she would not treat him in such a manner. She opened her mouth to speak, but he put a finger to her lips.

“There’s no need to be sorry. You’ve endured a great deal. Let’s just remain here and enjoy the quiet. Perhaps you’ll find solace.”

She shook her head and turned to go. “I can’t, Brenton. I’m sorry. Please excuse me. I’m just . . . a bit overwhelmed.”

Chapter 11

L
ate May brought several beautiful sunny days, and Phoebe was more than happy to take her family to a picnic at Lydia and Kjell’s house. It was little things like this that helped her maintain her sanity. Information about San Francisco’s disaster was becoming more readily available, but not where it concerned Dalton and Kjell. The authorities assured Lydia and Phoebe that everything possible was being done to locate the men, but that did little to comfort Phoebe and her family.

Phoebe watched her youngest playing with Laura and wondered what would happen if Dalton never returned home. How would Connie ever remember him? She touched her stomach and thought of the unborn child she carried. She had only just learned of this new baby and hadn’t even had a chance to announce her pregnancy. This child might not ever know its father or grandfather.

“Everything’s ready,” Lydia announced. “Let’s be seated.”

They gathered at the large table Kjell had built out of old scarred boards. He’d taken the pieces from one of his work sites and decided to refurbish the pine for a long outdoor table. He made benches to match—three for each side—more than enough room to accommodate twenty people. Kjell was handy that way—Dalton, too. Phoebe tried not to think of how he and Dalton had built the house she lived in. She once had remembered such things with great joy, but now they only served to remind her of this nagging loss.

“You look so tired,” Britta told her.

Phoebe gave a weak smile. She wasn’t yet ready to announce her pregnancy. “I was going to say the same about you. Is it going any better with the children?”

Britta shrugged as she helped Laura onto the bench. “Some nights are better than others. Often I end up sending Yuri back to the house so he can get some sleep, and I just stay with the kids at the cabin.”

Phoebe’s brother Ted surprised them by leaning forward to ask, “Why don’t you just stay at the cabin to begin with, if you are their nanny?”

Thankfully, Lydia was the one to answer. “It wouldn’t be appropriate, Ted. Britta is a single woman and Yuri a single man. If Yuri had a wife, things would be different and Britta could stay with them as their official nanny. However, if Yuri had a wife, he would hardly have need for a nanny.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment and then helped himself to several slices of fresh bread before turning to Yuri. “And will you take a wife soon?”

Yuri seemed startled by the question but gave a quick reply. “No. I have no plans for such a thing.”

Phoebe saw Britta turn away and get up from the table. “I’m going to check on Darya.” She hurried away, but Phoebe couldn’t help but see that Britta was upset. Perhaps later she would have a chance to talk to Britta and see what was wrong.

“Well, you’re the first sensible man I’ve met in some time,” Theodore replied to Yuri’s statement. “If the men in this family are any example, it’s probably just as well to avoid such unions altogether.”

Phoebe could see that her mother was mortified at the comment, while Lydia sat staring at Theodore as if he’d just grown horns. Gordon opened his mouth, but it was Kay who got the first word out.

“Especially if they’re as rude and sour as you are.”

Theodore shrugged. “I’m simply stating the facts. If that seems rude, then I apologize. I had no idea we were to speak anything but the truth.”