Twilight's Serenade (23 page)

Outside, the cold damp air did nothing to ease her loneliness. A misty rain fell, making it impossible to leave the porch. Not that she would have wanted to venture far. There was no telling what might be lurking.

Leaning against the porch rail, Britta couldn’t shake a strong sense of guilt. Dalton must have known more than he was letting on. Yuri probably had told him how unhappy he was. Maybe he’d even said that Britta forced him into marriage just as Marsha had.

Of late, that thought had started to bother Britta a great deal. Had her insistence to wed been any different than that of his first wife? They both were after something they wanted. Britta tried to soothe her conscience with proof of how her desires had all been selfless, but she knew it wasn’t true. She’d had her motives, just as Marsha had.

The previous Sunday their pastor had spoken on not making a promise to God that you didn’t intend to keep. He quoted a Scripture that had drawn Britta’s attention. She couldn’t remember where it was from or exactly how it went, but it had something to do with how it was better for a person not to make a vow to God at all than to make one you didn’t intend to fulfill.

She had made a vow to God, along with Yuri, when she’d married. She had pledged to them both that she would love and honor and obey. Was she miserable and lonely now because of such a false promise?

“But I meant the words I pledged,” she murmured. Maybe Yuri hadn’t, but that wasn’t her fault. Or was it?

“Is something wrong?”

Yuri’s voice startled her. She turned to find him standing in the doorway. She couldn’t see his face, but his voice bore concern.

Britta tried to sound nonchalant. “I just wanted some air.”

“Kind of cold out here.”

She nodded. “Sometimes that clears my head. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

He came to stand beside her. “Britta, if something is wrong, I would hope you could talk to me. After all, we were friends long before we . . . married.”

What could it hurt to talk? But just as she considered that, a horrible thought came to mind. What if in talking about her feelings of loneliness and longing, Yuri decided they should have the marriage annulled? It would be just like him to want to set her free to pursue love.

“Britta, do you regret our marrying?”

She was surprised that he would ask such a question. It was as if he had been hearing her restless thoughts. “I could never regret marrying you, Yuri. However, I fear that you regret marrying me.”

“I suppose I have some regrets,” he admitted.

Her heart sank. She chided herself for ever getting out of bed. If she’d just stayed in her room, she wouldn’t have to face this conversation now. The feelings of hurt spread out and wrapped around her like a blanket.

“I figured you did,” she said. “I suppose I shouldn’t blame you. After all, I’m no better than Marsha.”

“How can you say that?”

He sounded almost angry, and Britta backed away a step. “I imposed a marriage on you that you didn’t want. I used the children to convince you of the merit, just as she did with the announcement of her pregnancy. You didn’t want to marry her, and you didn’t want to marry me.” Britta was glad the night was dark so Yuri couldn’t see the tears that flooded her eyes and slowly slipped down her cheeks.

“But I also regret making you so unhappy,” she continued.

“You have nothing to do with that,” Yuri countered. “I’ve made a mess of my life, but it had nothing to do with you.”

“But I’m only adding to that mess.”

“Britta, you’re the only semblance of order in my life. I just feel bad that you’re struggling to make this work, and I’m completely clueless as to how I can help. I don’t even know my own mind very well, much less my heart. I have so many regrets. I did a lot of things to hurt myself and others. I can’t just pretend that I didn’t.”

“ ‘All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God,’ ” she countered. “Your sins are certainly no worse than mine. Oh, the consequences might be different, but without Jesus, we’re all wretched messes.”

“But some of our messes are more public than others, and people have long memories.”

“Don’t worry about what others think, just work on your own heart. That’s what my mother always said.”

Yuri shifted and eased back against the rail. “I miss my mother. I hate how much I ended up hurting her. She knew I was suffering, but she never stopped caring about me—or loving me.”

“Then we have that in common,” Britta said without thinking. “I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Britta . . .” He fell silent.

“Yuri, I know this situation is difficult for you. I won’t pretend it isn’t hard for me at times,” she began, “but I want to make it work.”

He said nothing, and Britta didn’t know what to do. If she continued talking, he might not speak his heart. But if she said nothing, he might leave, thinking she wasn’t interested. But then, almost as if her body didn’t need her permission, Britta drew closer to Yuri and reached her hands up to his neck. She let her actions do the talking and pulled his head down so that her lips might touch his. Britta had only intended a brief, heartfelt kiss, but instead she found herself lost in a passionate display. By the time she realized how much she’d betrayed in that single action, she was too shaken up to say another word. Instead, she hurried back to her room and locked the door behind her.

Yuri felt the strange sensation of desire stir through him at Britta’s kiss. He found himself wanting to talk with her, but she left before he could find his voice. He wanted to go after her—to kiss her again and see where things led, but he couldn’t move.

“What do I do?” he asked the night air.

How could he risk his heart when he’d never understood love to begin with? His parents had loved him unconditionally. He’d grieved and hurt them, but they continued to love him. On his mother’s deathbed, her thoughts had been of her love for him and her hopes that he might realize God’s love, as well.

“But it makes no sense. How can I be loved when I’ve done so little to deserve it? In fact, maybe I’ve done nothing at all.”

It was at times like this that he missed Morris James the most. If the wise man could be with him now, he might explain in full all of the questions that rose up to haunt Yuri. Questions that seemed to stand as sentinels, guarding against feeling or thinking too much.

“God, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to feel without hurting, and I’m tired of getting hurt and hurting others.”

He pushed the hair back from his face and felt dampness on his cheek. At first he thought it was rain, but then he realized it must have been Britta’s tears. Why was she crying?

Staring at the house, Yuri remembered her saying she felt guilty. Did she honestly think she had forced him into marriage? Didn’t she know him well enough to realize he was strong enough now not to be forced into anything?

“What’s wrong?” Kjell asked, lighting the lamp.

Lydia turned from the window and shrugged. “I’m just worried for Britta and Yuri.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re struggling,” she said matter-of-factly. “They married for the wrong reasons, and I fear it’s catching up with them.”

“They’ll have to be the ones to work it out,” he replied. “All we can do is pray for them.”

“But I wish she would talk to me about it,” Lydia admitted. “I know she’s hurting. But she’s much too proud. She’s convinced herself that she can deal with it alone.”

“Hmmm, sounds like somebody I know.”

Lydia smiled. “I might have been that way once, but not anymore. You know that I talk to you about everything.”

Kjell edged up in bed to lean against the headboard. “You’re a strong woman, Liddie, but you have to let go of Britta and let God have her. He’ll work the details out.”

“What if Yuri never loves her? What if he begins to blame her for making him marry her?”

He laughed. “Do you honestly think that’s what happened?”

“Well, I know it wasn’t a passionate love affair that brought them together. Britta was worried about the children, and since she cared deeply for Yuri, it seemed only fitting to suggest marriage.”

“And you think Yuri just went along with it because there was nothing else to be done?”

“Well, I suppose I do. It wasn’t like he had a lot of options; after all, there were the children to think of.”

“I thought you told me that Yuri had considered letting Kjerstin and Matthew have the girls. You even mentioned telling him that they could remain with Britta.”

“That’s true enough.”

“So, he had options. He didn’t have to marry Britta.”

“I suppose not.” Lydia considered this for a moment longer. “But they’re living platonically. They aren’t intimate. It’s as if they’ve constructed a thick wall between them.”

“Then they will have to be the ones to scale it. You can’t do that for them. We had to scale our wall, didn’t we?”

She smiled. “I suppose we did. I guess I would like to keep my child from experiencing the same misery I had in my first marriage.”

“But Yuri isn’t Floyd Gray. He’s nothing like him, in fact. He’s good to Britta and the girls. Give it time, Liddie. Give them time to get to know one another and realize that love is sometimes borne out of the strangest moments.”

“Like being rescued from the side of a mountain ledge?” she asked.

He nodded. “Or taking the responsibility for someone’s children.”

Lydia came to Kjell’s side and sat beside him. “When did you get to be so smart?” she asked, reaching up to gently touch his weathered face.

“I’ve always been smart,” he declared. “I’m a Swede.”

“You’re also Russian,” she teased.

“That just means that I can dance.” He grinned and pulled her into his arms.

Britta awoke late the next morning. A moment of panic filled her as she considered all that would need to be done in starting her day. She dressed quickly, then pulled on her boots and began to secure the laces.

Through the closed door, Britta could hear Laura laughing and Yuri talking. Why hadn’t he come to wake her? Perhaps he figured her late hours the night before had done her in. Then again, maybe he was embarrassed by the kiss they’d shared.

She frowned and went to the door. If he was ashamed that his wife had kissed him . . . well, that was just too bad.

In the kitchen she found Yuri and Laura making flapjacks. Darya was secure in the high chair, completely intrigued by a pair of wooden spoons she had been given to play with.

“Good morning. You should have gotten me up,” she said in greeting.

Yuri glanced up from the stove. “We decided to make breakfast.”

“Mama!” Laura jumped off the chair where she’d been helping her father. “Come see. I made you food.”

Britta laughed at the child’s enthusiasm. She allowed Laura to pull her to the table. “See?”

The plate at Britta’s place was covered with several rather sorry-looking cakes. She smiled. “They look . . . wonderful.”

Yuri shrugged with a grin. “It’s my one and only contribution to the world of cooking. Used to eat these for every meal of the day when money was really tight.”

“I’ll bet they taste great.” Britta took her seat. “Looks like you have everything well under control.”

Yuri brought the last of the flapjacks to the table and joined her. Laura climbed up on her chair and folded her hands together as she always did at each meal. Britta bowed her head and breathed a sigh of relief. Yuri seemed just fine this morning. He didn’t appear embarrassed or concerned about what had happened the previous night.

“Amen.”

Britta looked up rather sheepishly to realize she hadn’t kept her mind on the prayer. “So what are you planning today?” she asked Yuri.

“Fishing. I hoped you might come along with the girls.”

She hadn’t been fishing for a very long time. “That sounds like fun. I can pack us a picnic, too.”

“Your father and mother are planning to join us. In fact, it was your father’s suggestion. He was over here just about twenty minutes ago. I told him yes. I hope that’s all right.”

Britta nodded but said nothing. She had been avoiding private moments with her mother, for fear she would feel the need to pry into Britta’s well-being. Perhaps with the girls there, as well as her father and Yuri, Britta’s mother would refrain from getting too personal.