Twilight's Serenade (4 page)

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Gordon told her. “How could anyone live like this?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I felt the same way when I first saw it. Now it seems even worse.” She began picking through the clutter, looking for anything that might be of use for Laura or the baby. She spied a small traveling case in the corner of the room.

“If you don’t mind, Gordon, check in the other room and see if you can find any of Laura’s clothes. Look for baby things, as well. I’m going to open this trunk to see if there might be something kept in here.” She went to the small chest and pushed aside an array of trash upon it. Tin cans fell to the floor along with wadded-up paper and moldy crusts of bread.

She knelt beside the piece and reached for the top. The trunk latches were broken, so Britta had no trouble lifting the lid. Inside she found little that would be helpful. There was an old satin gown, hopelessly stained from spills and wear. The material all but fell apart as Britta lifted it out of its resting place. Below was a stack of envelopes that bore barely legible writing but were carefully tied together. How strange. It seemed odd that anyone should have saved these things so carefully in a house that was such an abomination.

“ ‘Marsha Belikov,’ ” Britta read. “ ‘Sitka, Alaska.’ ” She felt an odd sensation as she opened the first of the letters. She told herself it was necessary to look inside in order to ascertain whether Marsha might have had family that no one knew about. Perhaps the children had grandparents who would want to care for them.

As she read the letter, she felt her heart skip a beat. “ ‘Here is money for you and Laura. Yuri.’ ” There was nothing more.

Opening the other envelopes, Britta found the same brief statement in each. So he hadn’t deserted them entirely, she thought. It touched her to know that despite his leaving, Yuri had managed to continue sending money back to his family.

“This is all I can find,” Gordon said, returning with one small dress in hand. “There’s nothing else I can see that would be useful.”

Britta put the letters back and placed the satin gown on top before closing the trunk. “Nothing here, either. I suppose I shall simply buy Laura and the baby what they need. Mother will no doubt want to help.” She got to her feet. “I suppose the kindest thing that could happen to this place would be a good fire.”

Gordon nodded. “I wouldn’t want to have to clean it up.”

“Neither would I,” she said, but her thoughts went to Yuri.

They walked back to the house, not even bothering to bring the tattered dress that Gordon had found. Britta had deemed the piece too hopeless to be of any use to them. She was pondering what all she would need to purchase from the store as they rounded the bend and headed up the drive toward the house. These thoughts quickly fled, however, as she heard Laura crying at the top of her lungs.

Britta picked up her pace and all but ran the last hundred yards to the house. She burst through the door to find her mother trying unsuccessfully to soothe the child.

“What’s wrong? Is she sick?”

Mother looked up in frustration. “She keeps asking for her mama.”

Laura broke free from Lydia and rushed to Britta. “Mama,” she cried and wrapped her arms around Britta’s legs.

Lifting Laura in her arms, Britta pushed back the child’s clean blond hair. “Your mama had to go away.” She didn’t know how else to speak of Marsha’s death to the young girl.

“You my mama,” Laura said, placing her tiny hands upon Britta’s face. With tears still dampening her cheeks, Laura smiled. “You Mama.”

Britta looked at her mother and Kay, trying to convey her need for help. No one said a word, however. “No, Laura. I’m Britta,” she finally told the child.

“No,” the little girl said in an insistent tone. “Mama.”

She wrapped her arms around Britta’s neck and settled down. Britta didn’t know what to do or say. “Has she been crying for long?”

“Ever since you left,” Kay said. “We didn’t know she wanted you ’cause she kept asking for her mother.”

“Apparently she has adopted you,” Britta’s mother said.

Britta wanted to say something to protest such thinking, but at the same time, she couldn’t deny that she rather liked the way that Laura made her feel. She was needed and wanted in a way that she’d never experienced before.

“I suppose it’s because I let her sleep with me last night,” Britta began, “and with the shock of losing her real mother, maybe she is just pretending for now.”

“Perhaps,” Lydia replied. She seemed to sense Britta’s discomfort. “Did you find any clothes for her or the baby?”

“No. Not a thing.”

“You know, Mother probably has some of Connie’s old things that would work,” Gordon offered. “She saves everything. There are whole crates of old clothes in the shed.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Gordon,” Lydia replied. “Why don’t you and I go see her right now? You can get the wagon hitched up for me.”

Gordon nodded and hurried out of the house. Lydia went to Britta and gently touched her cheek. “You comfort her. Don’t feel guilty or bad for that. It’s obvious the child is starved for love.”

Britta met her mother’s eyes. “But what if we both get too attached? That might be dangerous.”

“Love often is,” her mother said with a smile.

The baby began to fuss, and Kay went to lift her from the cradle that had once held Britta and her siblings. “This little one is hungry, no doubt. I’ve fixed a bottle for her. Would you and Laura like to feed her?”

Britta tapped Laura’s shoulder. “Shall we feed your baby sister?”

Laura lifted her head. “I feed the baby.”

“You must sit over here, and I will bring her,” Britta instructed, putting Laura on the couch. She waited patiently while Britta went to take the baby from Kay.

The tiny infant continued to fuss. “Well, I obviously don’t have the same effect on her that I do on Laura.”

Lydia laughed. “Give it time. Babies need to bond. By the way, have you thought of what we should call her?”

Britta nodded. “I thought Darya, after Yuri’s mother, might be nice. Even if he wants to change it or call her something else, at least we’ll have something to call her for now.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Darya it is.”

Settling down beside Laura, Britta took the bottle that Kay offered and held it out. “Here, you can help me feed her.” She gently guided the child’s hand so that the bottle nipple came in contact with the baby’s mouth.

Laura squealed with delight. “She’s eating it.”

Britta laughed. “Well, not exactly. She’s sucking the milk from it. Baby Darya is too little to eat, but she can drink her milk.”

“I drink milk, too,” Laura said, nodding.

“Indeed, you do,” Lydia said as she took a seat in her favorite rocker. “You are a big girl and you need lots of milk.”

Britta felt herself relax and enjoy the moment. There was something so comforting about holding the baby in her arms and having Laura beside her. A warning went off in her head, but Britta ignored it. Loving these babies couldn’t possibly be the wrong thing. If Britta got hurt in the process . . . well, that was just the way it would be.

“I’ll talk to Dalton while I’m there,” her mother said, breaking Britta’s concentration.

She looked at Mother in confusion. “What?”

“I’ll talk to Dalton about Yuri. There has to be a way to locate him.”

“I found some letters at the cabin,” Britta told her. “Apparently, Yuri has been sending Marsha money for her and Laura.”

Lydia smiled. “I guess we misjudged him.”

“I don’t understand how he could just leave them. I know people said that Marsha treated him badly, but there was Laura to consider.”

“Sometimes the burden of life is just too much to face. Dalton confided in me that Yuri could not overcome his drinking and that, combined with Marsha’s bad attitude and relentless complaining, made him feel violent. He never hit her, at least according to what he told Dalton—but he wanted to.”

Britta frowned. The thought of Yuri hurting a woman seemed impossible. “He’s a good man. I suppose leaving was the only way to keep from becoming something he didn’t want to be.”

“Wagon’s ready, Grandma,” Gordon announced from the door.

Lydia got to her feet once again. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised. “I’ll talk to Dalton about finding Yuri. He might have some ideas—something we wouldn’t know to think of.”

Britta said nothing but was more than a little aware of Kay coming to take her mother’s place in the rocker. Her friend stared at her for several minutes.

“You ready to talk about why you came home?” Kay asked.

“I don’t think so,” Britta said. Not once in the past two days had she given her own situation any real consideration. The children had absorbed her attention and time.

“I don’t like it,” Kay said, shaking her head. “I don’t like secrets.”

“This isn’t really a secret,” Britta said firmly. “It’s just a decision I have to make.” She looked down at the children and felt her chest tighten. A decision that had just become a whole lot more complicated.

She glanced up at Kay and could see the look of disapproval in her eyes. Britta didn’t ask if her thoughts were of Britta’s refusal to speak or of the obvious attachment she was forming for Yuri’s children. Either way, she didn’t think she wanted to hear Kay’s comments. But Kay was never one to remain silent. The dark-eyed woman crossed her arms and leaned back in the rocker.

“You’re still in love with him.”

Britta’s eyes widened at the bold statement. She looked down, unable to meet Kay’s accusing expression, only to find baby Darya watching her with great intensity.

“You’re going to get your heart broken again,” Kay chided. “You just wait and see.”

Britta drew a deep breath and raised her head. “It can’t be broken again,” she told her solemnly. “It was never made whole after the first time.”

Chapter 3

March 1906

N
early two months had passed since Darya’s birth, and still no word from Yuri. Britta found herself in a comfortable routine with the children, but not a day passed without her wondering if this would be the day Yuri would be found. And once he was found, what would happen then? Would he return to Sitka and take the girls away with him? Would he refuse to come home and designate that the children go to an orphanage?

Britta couldn’t bear the thought of losing her place in Laura and Darya’s lives. The children seemed so happy. Laura was not only starting to talk to others around her but was allowing others to care for her for short periods of time during the day. She still slept next to Britta at night, however. It had been impossible to convince the little girl to sleep in the trundle bed beside Britta, much less to sleep across the room. Baby Darya, however, was the one who seemed the happiest. She was an easygoing infant, satisfied and content with the variety of hands that cared for her.

Phoebe had been able to provide most everything Britta needed for the girls, from tiny flannels for diapers to gowns and blankets. For Laura, there had been several perfectly sized dresses. Connie had seemed a bit hesitant to part with things she recognized, but in due time, that had fallen by the wayside and Connie had become a perfect companion for Laura. The two girls enjoyed each other’s company and played well together. Life was very nearly perfect—except for the uncertainty about Yuri.

“You ever gonna talk to me?” Kay asked as she joined Britta in what had become the nursery.

“I’ve been talking to you ever since I came home,” Britta countered, watching Laura play with a couple of hand-me-down dolls.

“You know what I mean,” Kay replied. She took a seat on a wooden chair and pushed back her black hair. “You said you’d tell me about coming here and the decision you had to make.”

Britta shrugged. “I guess in taking on the girls, I haven’t really given it a lot of thought. I need to, however. I’m supposed to deliver an answer by June.”

“It’s nearly April now. That leaves just two months. What are you trying to decide?” Kay fixed her with a stare that told Britta she might as well be forthcoming with the information.

“I’ve been asked to join a new orchestra that a prestigious conductor is starting. I would be given the first chair in the violin section. I would have a great deal of responsibility. I might even be allowed to step in and lead the orchestra when the conductor is unable to serve.”

“So why couldn’t you have just said this when you first came?”

Why indeed? Britta got up on the pretense of checking Darya. She knew if she looked Kay in the eye, her friend would easily be able to see that there was something more.

“I guess I didn’t want to worry Mother,” Britta replied, gently tucking a blanket around the sleeping infant.

“Worry me about what?” Lydia asked from the nursery door.

Britta nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned and faced her curious mother. “Well . . . Kay was just asking me about the reasons I came home.”

“And what were they?” her mother questioned with a raised brow. “I think we’d all like to have the answer to that.”

“I was asked to take the first-chair violin position in a brand-new orchestra.”