Summer of the Midnight Sun (24 page)

“He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God.”

Helaina trembled at the words. She read them again. Do justly . . . love mercy. God seemed to suggest the two walked hand in hand. But how? She pondered the words, desperate to understand. How could one seek to do justly and love mercy at the same time? It made no sense to her. Surely one would cancel out the other. You could hardly hold people justly responsible for their actions and show mercy. Could you?

“But Jacob just did that with me,” she whispered. “He held me responsible—he made me account for my wrongdoing. Then he showed me mercy. I deserved much worse.”

She closed the Bible and leaned back. Could it really be that there were times when the law was not to be the focus as much as leniency . . . mercy . . . forgiveness?

She had never felt the need to seek forgiveness from anyone. Not in all of her life—not in the way Jacob suggested that all of mankind needed. Yet Jacob had made her feel a sense of desperation—a sense of need that she couldn’t even begin to understand. And not only that; she wanted Jacob to no longer be angry with her. She cared about what he felt—what he thought. She very much wanted his mercy . . . even though she didn’t deserve it.

Chapter Twenty

SEPTEMBER 1915

T
he summer had passed quickly for Leah. She longed for her home in Last Chance, but at the same time she knew she’d miss her family here in Ketchikan. Jayce had been in and out of her world. For a time he had been there with them, then he’d taken off for parts unknown. Leah couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing, but she tried not to care too much. She knew something had changed, but she couldn’t put her finger on what flickered between them . . . at least not without rekindling a hope that Leah had long tried hard to suppress.

Letters from Jacob told of the frustrations and difficulties he’d had with Helaina Beecham. The woman had at first seemed so angry regarding any mention of God and the Bible. But over the weeks and given the isolation, Helaina had attended church services and appeared to be quite interested in some of the topics. Jacob himself was surprised by her poignant and educated questions. He thought in time her heart might actually be changed to see God as a loving Creator, rather than a stern, unyielding judge.

Jacob also wrote of the village. The hunts had been excellent; fishing had been so good that they had been able to dry a huge supply for winter. Some of the people liked to bury the fish and dig it up for later use. Leah had never been able to get used to this type of eating. To her, the salmon or cod was rotten, whereas the Eskimo people saw it as a delicacy.

But always Leah’s thoughts returned to Jayce. He had promised to return in time to head back to Nome with her. He’d also indicated that he’d like to talk to her about something important but that he would wait until they left for home.

“I can’t believe you’re already leaving,” Karen said, holding Leah’s clean blouses. “I pressed these, but no doubt after you travel with them, they’ll have to be pressed again.”

“We’re heading into winter at home. The temperatures will be dropping, and before long the snows and ice will seal us in our village,” Leah said, smiling. “I’ll be wearing so many layers by then that no one will ever see these blouses.” The hand-me-downs from Karen were appreciated but were not the most practical for life in Last Chance Creek.

Leah took the clothes and packed them in a small trunk Adrik had given her. There were many other things to take as well. Books were a real treasure, and Karen had given her several to wile away the hours through the long winter months. Adrik had included some items Jacob had requested, and another crate was packed with all kinds of canned goods from Karen and Leah’s efforts. It would be a real treat in the village, and Leah already knew she would share generously.

“I hope you won’t wait as long to come visit us next time,” Karen began. “I know the Lord has put you in that place for a reason, but I miss you and our long talks.”

“I do too. Writing you takes some of that longing away, but it isn’t the same.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’ll run us a telephone line from Last Chance to Ketchikan someday,” Karen teased. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

“Well, if they can run a train line from Seward to Fairbanks, I would think a phone line across the interior won’t be far behind.”

“Maybe they’ll put a train line in as well. Then you could just hop on board and be here in a couple of days.”

Leah tried to imagine for a moment what that might be like. “Do you suppose they’ll actually ever accomplish something like that?”

“It’s impossible to say. Adrik tells me that there are all sorts of plans in the works. They’re already pushing for statehood, you know. They plan to propose it to the Congress as soon as possible.”

“It doesn’t seem very likely that anyone would care if we became a state or not. Most people think we’re nothing but ice up here. I heard that from Jayce.”

“What else has he said?” Karen asked. The look on her face suggested an anticipated answer.

“Why? What have you heard?”

Karen shook her head. “Oh no you don’t. I asked first.”

Leah closed the lid on her case and tried to act as though she hadn’t thought every day about Jayce and what he might say to her once they were alone on the ship home. “He says he wants to talk to me—when we’re alone.”

“About what?”

“He didn’t say. He said it was important, but that he didn’t want to interfere with my time visiting family. Then he’s kept himself kind of busy and out of the way.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything . . .” Karen began. “Oh, I really shouldn’t say anything at all.” She turned and walked to the window. Lifting back the curtain, she continued. “I guess what I will say is that Jayce has come a long way. He knows the truth of who God is—that He’s real and not just some figurehead out there. Jayce cares about this land—almost as much as Adrik.” She let the curtain fall back into place and crossed her arms as she met Leah’s gaze.

“I think Jayce regrets the past. I hope you’ll both put aside what happened back then and start anew.”

“But how does someone just put the past away like that? Especially when the past has been your constant companion for so many years?” Leah questioned.

“I would start with God,” Karen said frankly. “He’s the only one who can help you let go of your regret and bitterness. He’s the only one who will help you make sense of this.”

————

Leah thought about Karen’s words for days, and even as she boarded the steamer,
Orion’s Belt,
Leah contemplated what her former guardian meant by all that she’d said.

“You seem awfully quiet,” Jayce said, frowning. “I suppose this is very hard for you.”

Leah felt almost startled by his words. She didn’t know quite what to say. “I’ll miss them—but I miss my home in Last Chance too.”

“So you’ve decided to stay in Alaska?”

“How could I not? There’s just something about this place.” She smiled and waved to her family on shore. “Everywhere I go it’s different; the land is so vast and so unpredictable. I’d actually like to see every inch of this territory.” She looked at him and laughed at the stunned look on his face. “Does that shock you so much?”

“Shock me?” He shook his head. “No, not really shock. It’s more like a pleasant surprise.”

“But why should it be a surprise? I’ve made no secret about loving Alaska.”

“But what of going husband hunting in Seattle? I heard they could be bought on the docks, just like many other things,” he teased.

Leah forced herself to rest in God’s peace rather than focus on how nice Jayce looked—his dark hair, a little longer than usual, blowing in the gentle breeze. “I’m trying hard to let the Lord lead me,” she finally admitted. “But I’ve never been good at that kind of thing. I’m much too impatient.”

“You? I find that hard to believe. You’re the most patient person I’ve ever met. Look at the way you took such good care of me when I had the leg injury. Even now, when my leg pains me, you slow down your pace and walk at my speed. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

She smiled and leaned against the railing, pleased that he’d been aware of this act of kindness. Karen had long ago suggested that Leah display only a gentle and loving spirit when dealing with Jayce. In changing her heart in this way, Leah had to admit she felt better about herself and about Jayce. It hadn’t been easy, but over the weeks in Ketchikan, Leah had tried her best to just be friends with Jayce and enjoy his company. She had no idea of what might happen in the future, but she wanted to remember the summer of 1915 as one of peace and joy.

That night after supper, Leah thought perhaps Jayce could talk to her about whatever it was he wanted to say. But instead they passed a quiet evening reading in the salon before heading to their individual cabins.

After weaving in and out of a dozen or so islands, they finally docked in Sitka. Leah thought Jayce might talk to her here as they enjoyed a short time on shore, but he never did. Leah sensed he was nervous, and that only served to make her edgy. She thought maybe he wanted to ensure that she wouldn’t resort to her old self—dealing with him in a vile, ill-tempered manner, since he planned to live in Last Chance Creek for the winter.

The ship departed Sitka that evening and pushed out into the ocean. It wouldn’t dock again until Seward, where the ship would deliver workers for the railroad project.

“Leah?”

It was Jayce. He’d found her at the rail, shivering as she watched the endless waters of the Pacific. “It’s getting late. I wasn’t sure where you were. You know it’s not all that safe to venture around on your own.”

“You forget, Jayce, that I’m used to taking care of myself. Jacob is often gone, and I’ve learned to be independent and capable.” She tried not to sound challenging or smug, but she could tell by the way Jayce shrugged that she’d probably said the wrong thing.

“I’m ready to go in,” she added with a smile. “It’s getting colder.”

“There’s also quite a squall line on the horizon. Captain thinks we’re in for stormy weather.”

“Then we should probably get below. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for keeping you out and losing you overboard,” she teased.

He grinned and took hold of her elbow. “I maintain that you do not have much confidence in me or my abilities.”

Leah started to give him a sassy retort, then paused. She looked up at him and realized he was watching her quite intently. Their faces were only inches away, so it seemed only natural that he should close the distance and kiss her.

It felt like something from one of her dreams, and Leah closed her eyes and prayed that she might never awaken. This was her first and only real kiss, and she wanted to memorize every moment of it. She didn’t even realize that she’d put her arms around Jayce’s neck until he pulled back and whispered, “I wasn’t expecting that kind of reception.”

She felt her face grow hot, and she quickly jumped back. “I’m . . . I didn’t . . . oh . . .” The words died in her throat. What had she done?

He chuckled. “I didn’t mind that kind of reception, if that’s what has you worried.”

She licked her bottom lip, then chewed on it nervously.
What should I say? What can I do? I don’t want to appear wanton. Oh, what must he think of me? If he calls me a child or tells me I’m too young . . .

“Leah?”

She looked up and met his sweet, gentle face. His dark eyes seemed to pierce her through to the heart. “What?” She barely breathed the word.

“I’m not sorry for kissing you. I hope you’re not sorry either.”

He said nothing more, and Leah, in her state of shock, couldn’t make words form in her mouth. Instead, she allowed Jayce to lead her below. Once he was assured she was safely inside with the door locked, he called good-night and left her there.

For several minutes, all Leah could do was stare dumbly at the door. What had just happened? Better still, when might it happen again?

————

Leah awoke to a horrible pitching of the boat. She sat up in bed, nearly being dumped from her mattress as she struggled to balance herself.

The storm!

Jayce had said there was a storm headed their way. She had an inside cabin, so there was no window from which to observe the situation. She pulled the blanket up around her neck and wondered if they were in any danger. She hoped the weather might pass them quickly and the rocking abate.

For hours she felt the ship fight the waves. Nausea washed over her, but Leah had never been one given to seasickness and refused to succumb to the situation. For a moment, she thought of going to find Jayce. He would be able to tell her if they were in any real danger. Would he be angry? she wondered. Surely it was nothing more than a simple storm, and soon it would pass and all would be well again.

The room seemed to close in, however, as Leah waited in the darkness.
What should I do?
The ship heaved hard to the right, tossing Leah from the mattress. She landed on the floor with a thud, her hip stinging from the fall. She tried to pull herself up, but then the ship slammed down recklessly to the left. Without hope of control, Leah fell hard against the frame of the bed, this time hitting her head.

A knock sounded at her door, but Leah felt unable to rise to answer it. To her surprise the door opened and Jayce entered the room. “Are you okay?” he asked, rushing to her side.

“I think so. I hit my head, but I’m not seeing stars or anything.” She let him help her up. They could barely balance against the pitching of the ship. “What’s happening? Why are you here?” She felt her breath quicken as she realized he was holding her quite close.

“Listen, Leah, the truth is, we’re in trouble. The ship’s captain has called for help from every able-bodied man. We’re taking on water.”

She swallowed hard. “We’re sinking?”

“Not if I can help it.” He leaned down and kissed her hard. “Leah, I love you.”

The words refused to register. She looked at him, dumbfounded. She longed to say something, but, what if his words were simply borne of fear? Perhaps he was just responding to the threat of the storm.