Grace’s gloved fingers quickly tucked the hair back into place. She said nothing, but looked up at Peter as if awaiting instructions.
“What else?” he finally asked.
“When your father fell ill, Mr. Paxton called for his men to take him to the doctor. I wanted to accompany your father, but Mr. Paxton would not allow me to follow.”
Peter could no longer hold back his rage. “Did he touch you? Did he?”
“He did not hurt me, except with his words,” Grace replied. “He made it clear that my marrying you had caused this ordeal. I am sorry, Peter. I don’t know why he insists on having me for his wife. The matter is settled, yet he acts as though it’s only begun. His demands suggest he could change everything with our cooperation.”
“What do you mean by that? What are his demands?”
Grace turned away. “I intend to send a telegram to my mother. I am hoping she might have some idea of what Mr. Paxton had said to my father. I am hopeful that she will have some idea of why he continues to pursue me even after he has destroyed my family and our fortune.”
Peter gripped her shoulders much too tightly. He knew he was hurting her, but nevertheless, he yanked her back around to face him. “What does he want?”
Grace shook her head. “He wants me.”
Peter looked at her and saw the fear in her eyes. He could feel her trembling beneath his hold and knew it was from fear of him. Ashamed, he dropped his hold and stepped back. “You’re married. How can he hope to resolve that?”
“He wants me to divorce you. He’s already arranged for it and wants only my cooperation. He’s probably bought himself a judge and court somewhere,” Grace said, her words cold but honest. “Peter, he says he’ll return everything to you and your father if I leave you.”
“I’ll kill him!” Peter said, no longer caring. Doubling his fists, he closed his eyes. He saw hot white stars against a field of blackened emptiness. He had never wanted to kill a man before now. His earlier anger and irritation with Paxton were mere annoyance compared to the feelings coursing through his body—feelings that were quickly fueling his rage and pushing him toward action.
Opening his eyes, he saw the tears streaming down Grace’s face. “I suppose you want me to forgive him, madam? Maybe pray for him? Well, there will be none of that. Any prayers said will have to originate with you. I’ll kill him before I’ll allow him to hurt my father any further. I’ll kill him before I’ll see him in charge of Colton Shipping. And I’ll surely kill him before I see him lay a finger on you.”
KAREN SAT DOWN on the edge of the bed and brushed out her long, damp hair. She’d hated to give up her time in the bath, but others were waiting and there was no chance of keeping the place to herself.
With each stroke of the brush, Karen couldn’t help but remember Adrik’s touch. She shivered, even though the room was quite toasty and warm. What had he done to her? How could she be so easily moved by this man?
She thought of her father and Adrik’s loyalty to Wilmont Pierce’s memory. She had at first believed Adrik’s interest in her was nothing more than an expression of that loyalty. But now . . . now that he’d kissed her, she realized it was something entirely different.
Licking her rather chapped lips, she felt her cheeks flush at the memory of his touch. He sparked a fire inside her. He left her weak-kneed and full of romantic thoughts. No one else had ever done that. Was this truly what it was to fall in love? Could she give her heart to this man? Love him? Marry him? Could she develop any relationship before she’d first dealt with the past?
Karen knew she must deal with her anger toward Martin Paxton. It was affecting everything else in her life. Leah knew it. Adrik and Grace had both endured the effects of it.
Poor Grace. Karen hadn’t seen her young friend since their encounter. The thought of Grace being so near yet so far away—just a few miles away in Skagway—was frustrating. Karen longed to make things right between them again. She longed to sit down and put aside talk of Paxton and even of Peter. She longed for things to go back to the way they had been before they’d come to Alaska.
How many times had Karen faced a new day only to wish—even pray—that the reality of her life was nothing more than the remnants of a bad dream? But as bad as her own nightmarish existence was, there was Leah to contend with. Leah’s grief had changed the girl. She added her brother’s disappearance to her list of losses, tallying them like an account she could never hope to reconcile. Karen saw the child slip further away almost daily. Gone were the vibrant smile and childlike faith. In their place had come a touch of cynicism and defeat, emotions much too adult for a girl not yet thirteen.
It could still be worse,
Karen reminded herself as she began braiding her hair into a single plait. She felt her stomach churn at the mental image of women young and old working in the cribs down by the harbor. Leah would most likely be there herself if not for Karen’s protection. It was only—yes, she had to admit it—the grace of God that had kept them from harm’s way this far.
“I know I’m acting the fool,” she said softly to the God she’d resolved to turn from. She bowed her head and tied a ribbon around her braid. “It’s just so hard to be here—to endure this life. You have no idea.”
But of course, she knew that was wrong. Jesus had come to earth to know every part of being human. The insults, the sorrows, the loneliness. And oh, the loneliness was so overwhelming. Karen brushed a tear away and closed her eyes. Her soul cried out for real communion with God, but even as she contemplated surrendering her will, Martin Paxton’s face came to mind once again.
He had no remorse for the things he’d done. He wanted only to have his own way and to hurt those people who stood against him. Karen balled her hands into fists, fists that she’d love nothing more than to use against Paxton. Her breathing quickened, and she jumped to her feet.
“How long must I suffer like this? I’m like two different women. Just when I think I can lay this aside and make peace with God, I see that man and know that I cannot leave the matter alone and walk away.”
She began to pace. “I can’t allow him to ruin my life.”
She heard the words echoed back to her and stopped short. “But he is ruining my life. My hatred of him is destroying everything. My friendship with Grace . . . my love of God. It’s even wreaking havoc with the potential love of a good man. And for what?”
She caught her reflection in a small mirror that hung near the door. Her expression reminded her of another person. The anger and bitterness was the same. That expression had belonged to Peter Colton.
“I have become what I thought impossible to be.” The sorrow of it broke her spirit and left her devoid of hope.
————
Grace had heard of the newly installed telegraph system and had hoped to get a message off to her mother. She had to know what it was that kept Martin Paxton so interested in her. She had to know why he refused to leave her in peace and let her life find some normalcy.
If it could find normalcy.
Grace wasn’t at all convinced that anything could ever be right again, much less good. She had come to Alaska to flee one monster, only to find herself married to another. But she loved this beast. He had taken her heart as surely as she had taken his name.
Walking unescorted to the telegraph office, Grace found the strength to continue only by trusting in the knowledge that God would never leave her nor forsake her. Should everyone else desert her—leave her to die alone, she knew God would be there. Her faith had been strengthened by the adversity she’d endured. Peter’s anger only served to drive her to prayer, where her heavenly Father sent comfort through His Holy Spirit.
Martin Paxton was a thorn in the flesh, to be sure, but he didn’t frighten Grace half as much as Peter did, perhaps because she loved Peter and cared nothing for Paxton. Perhaps because she knew Martin Paxton could only take her life, but Peter would have her soul if he thought it possible.
Ignoring the men who eyed her and called to her, Grace quickly sent her telegram, paying the exorbitant sum of five dollars. She hurried back to the hotel, hoping that Peter hadn’t returned and found her missing. He had warned her to stay off the streets of Skagway. Apparently, rumor had it that most of the passes were in perfect condition for pressing north. People were creating a new, smaller stampede from the one they’d left in the lower states. This stampede was leaving the comforts of Skagway to head into the vast unknown territories. Gold lured them forward—called to them. Gold beckoned them to forget their loved ones and face the risk of death.
But in spite of Peter’s concerns, the town had emptied out onto the trails rather quickly. The stampede was gone, leaving behind those souls who had taken up residence in Skagway, along with stragglers who had lost their caches in games gone bad. Every day, however, new arrivals poured in, the fever glazing over their eyes, keeping them from seeing the truth of the disease that had come to grip them.
By night, Grace knew the rowdies would be out and about. Skagway’s lawlessness rivaled nothing she had ever known, and Peter’s concerns were well justified. Jefferson “Soapy” Smith and his men were notorious for the trouble they caused. They weren’t alone, however. Scallywags and hoodlums of every sort were to be found in the town. Everyone wanted something from someone, and gold was almost always at the bottom of it.
In the exodus of gold seekers, Peter had managed to secure a private room next to his parents’ for himself and Grace, and it was in this room that Grace sought her solace. The four bare walls offered no comfort. Gone was the beauty of the rooms she’d known growing up. Even the simplistic charm of the little room she’d once shared with Karen was preferable to these stark confines.
But as much as she desired the beauty and warmth of her childhood, she needed answers more. Answers to questions that seemed so illogical to even ask. Why did Martin Paxton desire to marry a woman who clearly held him in contempt? Why did he pursue her to the point of ruining lifelong friendships and giving old men heart attacks? Why, when she had nothing left to offer him but her body, did Martin Paxton find the price worth paying?
Then there were questions about Peter. Why did he so fervently refuse to see God’s part in his life? How could he have no desire for spiritual truth? How had he lost his desire for her?
He’d not even come back to their room the night before until well into the morning hours. Grace had pretended to be asleep as he fell into the bed beside her. She had thought to herself,
If he reaches for me, I will willingly go into his arms
.
But he never reached for her.
“I love him so much, Father,” she prayed. Picking up her Bible, she held it close for comfort. She didn’t have the energy to read the Scriptures between the covers, but just holding it gave her a sense of peace. Settling into a chair, Grace lost track of the time. She dozed off, weary from the battle she’d been fighting, only to awaken disoriented.
She wondered at the time, then startled when a loud, insistent knock came at the door. Apparently it had been this that had brought her from her sleep in the first place.
Peter had already left by the time she’d awakened that morning and she’d not seen him since, so she hoped that it might be him. She put the Bible aside and hurried to the door. Throwing it back, she was surprised to find a boy, no more than twelve or thirteen years old, standing there holding out a telegram.
“Are you Mrs. Colton?”
“I’m Mrs. Grace Colton,” she replied.
“Then this here telegram is for you.” He thrust the paper toward Grace and hurried back down the hall almost before she could take hold of the missive. Apparently he wasn’t concerned with getting a tip.
Opening the telegram, Grace couldn’t contain her surprise. It was a response from her mother. She scanned the lines quickly and felt all hope drain away. Her mother simply advised her that she should do whatever Mr. Paxton told her. That he could still hurt them both.
Grace didn’t even remember to close the door. She walked back to her chair and sat down hard. How could this be? Why would her mother direct her to do such a thing when she’d previously been so supportive of Grace remaining free of Martin Paxton?
“May I come in?” Peter questioned from the door.
Grace looked up and found him staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Of course you may come in. It’s your room as well as mine.”
Peter crossed the threshold and quietly closed the door. Grace watched him, confused by his gentle nature and uncertainty. “Is something wrong?” she questioned.
“Yes.” He came to where she sat. “I’ve been unreasonable and owe you a great many apologies.” He knelt beside her. “I never meant to let things get so muddled. I don’t even know who I am anymore or why I act as I do.”
Grace felt her heart nearly break. He looked so lost. She reached out and took hold of his hand and brought it to her lips. “Oh, Peter, I’m so very sorry for all that you’ve had to endure. Especially for those things you’ve endured on my behalf.”
“No, it’s not your fault. You have no reason to apologize. Even your faith is not an issue that should divide us. I know that now, but I cannot pretend to believe as you do. I’m sorry I’ve failed you as a husband. I’m a poor leader, both spiritually and physically. I’m responsible for losing my family’s business, and I’ve nearly lost you. Please tell me I’m not too late.”
Grace got to her feet, the telegram now forgotten. “You could never be too late. Oh, Peter, I love you. I’m sorry I’m not the wife you had hoped me to be. There is still so much we do not know about each other. So much that is yet to be overcome.”
He held her close and buried his face in her hair. “I know I’m difficult at times. I know I’ve said things that hurt you.” He pulled away and shook his head. “I know, too, that I can never take back those words.”
He walked away from her and seemed to struggle with his thoughts. Grace stood still, afraid that she might break the fragile peace should she do anything but await his words. Turning to face her again, Peter frowned.