Dawn's Prelude (31 page)

He took her arm and led her across the office. “That is what I wish to discuss.” They crossed to the door and into the hall. Marston motioned to an older woman dressed in black.

The woman got to her feet and turned away from them. Reaching into a perambulator, she pulled out a crying baby.

“What is this all about? What child is this?”

The woman came to deposit the baby in Marston’s arms. He grinned. “This, Evie, is your little brother, Dalton. Dalton Gray.”

Chapter 26

April 1871

I
’ve decided to hire a detective to look into whether or not Marston Gray has Dalton,” Kjell told Zerelda as they drove into town. Overcast skies above looked heavy with rain.

“How will you find one?” Zerelda asked him.

Kjell pushed back his hat a bit. “Not long after the attack, I sent a letter to the mayor’s office in Kansas City. I could see that the army believed the case closed—that Ioann and Dalton were lost at sea—but I just can’t rest when I know Gray might well have my son.

“I explained that there was a matter of great importance that required a bit of investigation. I asked if he or his people could recommend a detective agency. I got a reply back just the other day with the name of a reliable company. I plan to write to the man in charge and seek his hire.”

“What will you say? What will you ask him to do?”

“I’ll tell him the truth. I’ll explain that I know Gray is a powerful man, but that this involves kidnapping and attempted murder.

I’ll play to his ego and explain that seeing this man in prison will likely bring him positive notoriety. Which in turn could bring him additional cases.”

Zerelda considered this for a moment. “But what if he’s a friend of the Gray family?”

“I remember Lydia telling me that the Grays were rapidly falling from grace with the powers around town. She said that her lawyer, Mr. Robinson, had explained all of this, which gave her hope that she could make a new start without their interference.”

“You know who her lawyer is? Why didn’t you write to him for the name of a detective? As a lawyer, he surely must have known such men.”

“I did write, but I never got a response. I don’t know if the man is still alive or if he’s moved from the area. Lydia never mentioned it. I know he was handling some business affairs for her, however.

I figure we’ll get something from him or his colleagues sooner or later in regard to that.”

Zerelda motioned to the side. “This is where I get off. I’m meeting new missionaries. A Reverend John Brady and Miss Fanny Kellogg. They are said to be quite excited about working with the Tlingit people. I’m to help facilitate introductions.”

Kjell brought the wagon to a halt and got out to help Zerelda down. “Do you think Liddie’s getting any better, Zee? I mean, you’re with her day and night. Have you seen any sign that she’s recovering her memory?”

She looked at him with an expression of motherly compassion. “I can’t help but think she is, Kjell. Sometimes she asks me questions about the past, and it seems to me that something must have triggered a memory.”

“What about her music? Has she . . . is she playing?”

Zerelda shook her head. “She attempted it once, but after holding the instrument for several minutes, she simply put it away. But don’t worry. I believe God will restore what is needed in time. Like I said before, it might be best that she never remember the past—especially if Dalton is truly lost to us. If he’s not with Gray, then we will have to accept that he drowned at sea.”

“But no one has ever found anything to suggest that. Ioann’s body was never recovered.”

“Kjell, you know very well that people are lost at sea and never recovered. Hire your detective and see what he says. It will put our minds at rest once and for all.”

He clenched his teeth. Nothing of the sort would bring peace or rest to his mind. He would always feel that he had failed Liddie and Dalton. If he hadn’t been working late that night, and if the storm hadn’t delayed him, none of this would have happened.

Lydia sat in the sewing room attempting to pin together the pieces of a shirt Zerelda was helping her make for Kjell. She liked doing things like this—things for Kjell. He’d been so considerate of her, and she’d appreciated his gentle courtship. In fact, she’d found such pleasure in his tenderness and affection that she felt the time had come to be a wife to him in full. The idea made her nervous and happy, all at the same time. She felt she could trust this man. Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew that she had loved him sincerely. She was tired of trying to battle her recovery on her own. Zerelda was wonderful to help her and give her insight into the past, but Lydia’s heart longed for Kjell, and she didn’t want to deny that any longer.

As she worked on the shirt, she tried to figure out what would be the best way to invite Kjell back into their home. Should she simply say that she was at ease with the idea and wanted him to return? Maybe she would be better off to ask him if he was comfortable with the suggestion.

She smiled to herself. Of course he was comfortable with it!

He had told her many times of his love for her and his longing to be with her again. His love was evident, and Lydia couldn’t help but love him in return.

Rain began to fall outside. The steady beat of the drops against the window suddenly made Lydia feel uncomfortable. She put down her sewing and got up. Something akin to panic rose up in her. Her chest tightened, and she felt as if her throat were closing up.

She paced back and forth for several minutes. The feeling refused to abate, however. Lydia thought perhaps she would find solace in her bedroom. Stepping through the door, her focus was immediately drawn to the window and then to the far corner of the room, where a dresser stood.

Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

She stood frozen, almost paralyzed with fear. It dawned on her that she had been injured the night of a storm. Maybe it was nothing more than that realization that was making her uneasy.

“But I’ve been through many other showers. This is hardly a storm.”

Going to the window, Lydia reached out to touch the glass.

A fleeting image passed through her mind. She had come here to open the window that night. But why? Why would anyone open a window during a storm?

Lydia pulled away and hurried downstairs. Maybe it was best if she didn’t remember. She got the distinct feeling that something very bad awaited her in her memories.

Lydia stoked up the fire. The flames greedily accepted the logs she offered and soon the room seemed much cheerier. Lydia sat down by the fire and began to rock. She hummed a song, not knowing why she knew it or what it was.

Kjell had said music was very important to her, and she looked at the violin case now and frowned. Lydia had been sadly frustrated the times when she had picked up the instrument. She wanted to play it, but she had no idea how.

“It’s not fair,” she said, gazing at the ceiling. Zerelda had told her to talk to God when she felt overwhelmed. “Are you listening to me, God?” She didn’t ask the question out of anger but of desperation. It was so hard to consider that the God of the universe would give her needs even the slightest consideration, but her aunt had assured her it was true. Every Sunday when they gathered as a family to read Scriptures, Kjell would lead them in prayer. Lydia felt that God was very real—that He did care—but she couldn’t really understand much else.

“I want to remember. Oh, Father, why can’t I know the truth?” Tears began to form in her eyes. She hugged her body and rocked. “I just want to know who I am.”

She continued to rock, hearing the rhythmic creak of the chair on the floor. Tears streamed down her face. Lydia stared into the glow of the fire and wondered if she would ever be able to fill the void in her mind.

“Liddie?”

She startled and turned. It was Kjell. He saw the tears on her face and hurried to her side.

“What’s wrong?” He looked almost fearful.

“I don’t really know. I felt frightened for no reason. It’s silly,” she admitted.

Kjell took out a handkerchief and knelt beside her. He wiped her tears so gently. “It’s not silly. You have endured a great deal.”

“I just want to remember. I was working upstairs, and when the rain started to hit the windows . . . well, it scared me. For just a moment, I thought I remembered opening the window the night of the storm. But then it was gone, and I couldn’t remember anything else. I still feel afraid.”

He stood and pulled her into his arms. Holding her for several minutes, Kjell said nothing. The warmth of his embrace made Lydia feel safe, and she realized that now was the moment to tell him to come back to her—to come home.

“Kjell,” she whispered. “Please come home.”

Pulling away, Kjell looked into her eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I want you here . . . with me. I want us to be together. I feel so much better when you’re here. You’ve been so patient to wait for me, but I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He gently touched her face. “Lydia, I want that more than anything, but I don’t want to do it simply because you’re afraid.”

“It’s more than that,” she assured. Reaching up, Lydia put her arms around his neck. “I was already convinced of it before the rain came.” She smiled. “I was even trying to figure out a way to suggest it without seeming too forward.”

Kjell laughed. “Be as forward as you like, wife of mine.”

“In that case, perhaps you would like to see to the fireplace in our bedroom.”

“Is there a problem with it?”

Nodding, she smiled and moved away from him. “Yes. It wants for a fire.”

Evie cooed at Dalton and shook a rattle in front of his face.

“See here. See how pretty.”

He tried in his uncoordinated manner to reach out. Evie helped him take hold of the toy and for a moment, Dalton gripped it and flailed his arm. Then just as quickly he dropped it.

Evie picked him up and smoothed her hand over his dark brown hair. He looked very much like Lydia, she thought. She remembered Marston’s sad story of finally finding where their stepmother had gone, only to get there as she was dying in childbirth.

“Poor baby,” she whispered against Dalton’s cheek.

She had agreed to take her little stepbrother and raise him as her own, but she couldn’t help but think of Lydia. In fact, Lydia was the reason she had decided against seeking a divorce from Thomas. She would focus on raising Dalton for his dead mother.

Evie had always liked Lydia and had secretly longed to spend time with her—to feel the connection to a mother figure once again. Jeannette, however, had threatened Evie on more than one occasion.
“Don’t you dare like her,”
Jeannette had said.
“If you like
her, it means you hate our mother.”

That had caused a battle to ensue in Evie’s heart. Could her sister be right? She couldn’t understand why doing one thing meant the other must happen, as well.

Frowning, Evie struggled to forget the past. She focused, instead, on the baby in her arms. Dalton didn’t make up for the lack of love in her life, but at least with him here, she had someone to care for—someone who needed her.

“Oh, my sweet boy, your life has started so tragically, but I promise to be a good mama to you.” She kissed his nose, and he reached to take hold of her face. Laughing, Evie whirled around gently, holding Dalton high in the air. “You will see. We will have a good life together. I will love you just as Lydia would have loved you.”

“Mrs. Gadston, your brother is here,” Miles announced from the arched entryway.

Evie turned and lowered the baby as Marston entered the room. “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to see my little brother.” He crossed the room with a box in hand. “I’ve brought him a gift.”

“That was very considerate,” Evie declared. “Would you like to hold him?”

Marston shook his head. “That’s quite all right. I really have no use for him at this age, but when he’s older . . . well, things will be different then.”

Evie was puzzled at her brother’s statement, but she said nothing. Instead, she kissed Dalton’s cheek, then put the sleepy baby to her shoulder. “I do wonder, though . . .”