Threads of Faith Read online

  “I’d be happy to inquire for you at the hotel. I have a good rapport with the owner.” He tried to conceal his shy grin. “He’s my dad.”

  “Oh?” Julianna forced a little smile just as Mrs. Sundberg moved in to give Mark a hug.

  “God morgen, Mark.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Sundberg.” He glanced at the captain. “I see our collective prayers have been answered. Your son has come home.”

  “This is not my home,” the captain muttered. “And I thought you said your family is a wood manufacturer.”

  “Yes, sir. We own Dunbar Manufacturing as well as the largest lumberyard around.” Mark’s grin widened. “And the hotel too.”

  Mrs. Sundberg’s eyebrow dipped as she looked from Mark to her son. “Have you two met?”

  “Just minutes ago.” The captain shifted his stance on the wooden walk. “And, as for Miss Wayland’s position in your store, Mor, I’ll guarantee her wages.”

  Julianna stared at Daniel, knowing she couldn’t accept such an offer. She had quickly become a burden to him when all he wanted to do was see his poppa and return to New York. He’d be out of her life forever, soon. If she was, indeed, meant to forge her own way here in America, she had to begin now.

  “Thank you, Captain. But I think I’ll take Mr. Dunbar’s offer of, at least, an inquiry.”

  “You will?” An ear-to-ear smile stretched across Mark’s face. “That’s . . . that’s fine. I’ll go speak to Dad right now.”

  “Thank you.” Julianna pushed out a smile and fixed her gaze on the younger man. Her initial fear of him melted away. He was, after all, related by marriage to Daniel’s family, and she’d witnessed Mrs. Sundberg’s maternal embrace just now. If he should happen to express interest in courting her, Julianna would just have to inform him that it was no use, that she’d already given her heart away. There was only one man in this world she’d ever love.

  She looked back at Daniel. She loved him—and she’d never, ever change her mind!

  CHAPTER 14

  D ANIEL WASTED NO more time in getting to his father’s bedside. As he followed Mor through her shop and to the back apartment, his world tipped precariously on its axis.

  No farm? The very home in which he’d grown up was owned by others outside their family? He couldn’t say why the thought aggravated him, although he blamed Mor. Why couldn’t she have purchased a shop earlier in her life and allowed Poppa to pursue politics, like Bestefar had suggested? Mor enjoyed controlling everyone’s destiny—and look where it had gotten Poppa!

  Mor paused with her hand on the bedroom doorknob. “As I said, he’s sleeping now, Daniel. He ate some porridge this morning, and I washed him up.”

  “Fine. I’ll be quiet. But I still want to see him.”

  She replied with a reluctant nod then pushed open the door. It creaked on its hinges.

  The room was dark, the draperies pulled shut against the brilliant summer sunshine. Once Daniel’s eyes adjusted, he made his way to the bedside in the unfamiliar room. Gazing over the specter-like face of his father, Daniel questioned whether this poor creature really was his strong, capable Poppa.

  “When it first happened,” Mor whispered as she stepped in next to him, “we didn’t know if he would survive the night. But here he is, and we rejoice each day that we have with him.”

  Daniel thought his father looked as bad as human existence allowed. Quite literally Poppa was withering away—and right under his mother’s eyes.

  “Why didn’t you write to me immediately?” He’d spent the winter season in England courting Reagan. However, George would have forwarded on her letters.

  “I did. I sent several missives to the Ramseys’ home in New York City. You did not reply.”

  “I only received the one—just last month. It was dated earlier in the year.” Daniel doubted his mother would lie. “The others must have been lost in transit.” It was a common occurrence, and yet Daniel had received several letters and telegrams from George. He’d never once relayed news from Wisconsin or indicated that Mor tried to reach him. George would never keep information such as that from him. Why would he?

  Of course he wouldn’t.

  But then someone wasn’t being honest . . .

  He gave himself a mental shake. He couldn’t think about that now.

  Returning his focus to his father, Daniel bent a knee by the bed. Carefully he smoothed Poppa’s thick blond hair back from his forehead. It felt like oiled straw. The man looked dead already, but the slow rise and fall of Poppa’s chest attested to the fact he still breathed.

  “Poppa?” Daniel felt compelled to arouse him in spite of his promise to his mother to keep silent. “Poppa, it’s me, Daniel. I’m here now.”

  When no answer came, Daniel peered over his shoulder at Mor. “Do you mean to tell me that he just lies here? Day after day?”

  “Mostly. Agnes and I prop him up with pillows sometimes.”

  Like an infant? How pathetic!

  “I think he’s been waiting . . . waiting for you.” Mor’s voice broke. “To see you again.”

  She whirled away and ran from the room. A shaft of light from the hallway window fell over Poppa. His mouth hung slightly open on a head that looked like a skull dipped in transparent flesh.

  “Oh, Poppa . . . ” It pained Daniel to see him this way. Better for him if he’d have died months ago. To linger this way must be a taste of hell—except Daniel knew his father had a strong faith in God.

  So why hadn’t the Lord received him in paradise then?

  Poppa’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Poppa, look at me!”

  Slowly his eyes slid until they found Daniel’s gaze. Disbelief pooled in the blue depths of the older man’s eyes.

  “It’s really me, Poppa. I’m here now. Everything is going to be all right.” If he wanted Daniel’s permission to die, he had it.

  Poppa’s jaw moved up and down, his lips twitching as though he wanted to speak.

  Daniel waited, but it seemed Poppa had given up. A surge of anger—or was it guilt, perhaps both, surged through Daniel. Something more had to be done.

  He got to his feet and raked his hand through his hair. Maybe if he had stayed around on the farm Poppa wouldn’t have overexerted himself and fallen victim to apoplexy. The idea only fueled Daniel’s belief that Poppa should have gone into politics.

  “Y–you have come home.”

  His father’s raspy voice pulled Daniel from his turbulent thoughts. “Hello, Poppa.”

  “Du er for sent,” he mumbled in Norwegian. “You are too late.”

  Julianna had never seen Daniel so distressed and determined. But where was he going? She ran out of the store after him.

  “Captain Sundberg!” She waved, hoping to catch his attention.

  At last he glanced her way. “I’ll be back,” he called as he steered the wagon down the dirt road.

  “Where’s he going?”

  Julianna turned to Daniel’s youngest sister, Agnes. They’d been forced to make their own introductions after Daniel and his mother strode briskly to the back of shop and disappeared there, leaving the establishment in Agnes’s care. Funny, but Julianna hadn’t been much older when she worked in the Potters’ store.

  “I have no idea where your brother is off to.” Julianna glimpsed the hurt in Agnes’s blue eyes—eyes that resembled Daniel’s.

  “He didn’t even say hello to me. He walked right by me.”

  “Oh, now, he didn’t mean anything by it.” She hooked arms with Agnes and sent one last glance down the street at the retreating wagon. “You said yourself that you were just a baby the last time he saw you.” Julianna swung a smile at the pretty, round-faced girl. The indigo print in her ivory gown matched her eyes. “But seeing how you’re a young lady, he probably thought you were just another customer in the store.”

  Agnes’s hurt expression vanished. “Perhaps you’re right, because he didn’t even recognize me.”

  “Exactly.”<
br />
  They reentered the shop just as Mrs. Sundberg walked in from the back. She looked around for any patrons. Seeing none, her shoulders sagged slightly. Julianna could tell the older woman had been crying, although Mrs. Sundberg quickly blinked away her sad expression and pushed out a smile.

  “Did your husband’s condition worsen?” Julianna thought that would explain Daniel’s hasty departure—except where had he gone off to? The doctor’s office . . . the undertaker’s?

  “No.” She wrung her hands. “It’s just that Daniel . . . ” Mrs. Sundberg pressed her lips together as if to forestall further comment.

  “He’s a fine man, Mrs. Sundberg.” Julianna couldn’t help gloating over him. “And he’s a good captain. Why, I saw with my very eyes how he keeps the bawdiest of sailors in line.”

  “Really?” Agnes looked impressed.

  “Except I am not a bawdy sailor.” Mrs. Sundberg raised her chin, looking quite insulted.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that you are!” Julianna instantly regretted the remark. “I only meant to brag on your son. I thought it would make you proud.”

  “We’re proud of him, aren’t we, Momma?” Agnes bobbed her blond head. “We’ve prayed for him every night since Poppa got sick—prayed that God would keep Daniel safe on the sea and that he would come home.” Her smile widened. “The Lord has answered our prayers.”

  “It seems so.” Julianna marveled that these two ordinary females petitioned God specifically and He gave into their requests.

  “Ja, and I am grateful.”

  Mrs. Sundberg’s countenance softened. Her face was round and sweet, like Agnes’s, but her lard-blonde hair bespoke her age. Worry lines etched around her tired-looking eyes, and her pale complexion cued Julianna in on the many sleepless nights the older woman must have endured in the months past.

  “Daniel looks just like my poppa did.” Wistfulness spread across her features. “So brave and strong . . . and stubborn.”

  “Oh, he is that, all right.”

  Agnes giggled again, and Julianna felt herself blush for admitting such a thing to Daniel’s family. He might not appreciate it.

  “But he’s also kind and extremely generous.” She removed the tan traveling hat she’d been wearing and carefully repinned her hair. “He’s been good to me, seeing after me welfare . . . I mean, my welfare. Why, among sailors he’s known as the prince of sea captains.”

  “Is that so.” Mrs. Sundberg narrowed her gaze. “And you are not Daniel’s forloveden—beloved?”

  “Me?” Julianna shook her head and glanced at the tips of her black leather boots. “No.” She wished she were with all her heart. “He’s going to marry a countess.”

  Agnes gasped, and when Julianna looked up, she saw the raw surprise flash in Mrs. Sundberg’s eyes.

  “A countess?”

  Julianna nodded. “And I heard she’s very rich and beautiful.”

  “I wonder . . . ” Delight spread across Agnes’s features. “Will we be invited to the wedding?” She sucked in a breath. “Oh, Momma, wouldn’t that be grand?”

  Doubt crept across Mrs. Sundberg’s face. “I do not think we will be invited, Agnes.” Straightening the folds in her dark brown skirt, she cast a glance at Julianna. “Daniel has a new family. They despise our simple way of life—and, I think, they despise us too.”

  “You mean Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey?”

  “You have met them?” Looking interested, Mrs. Sundberg stepped toward her.

  “Oh, I’ve met them, all right. Mrs. Ramsey seems like a good woman, but Mr. Ramsey is a pompous a—” Julianna choked on her poor choice of words. “He’s arrogant. That’s what I meant to say . . . arrogant. And he’s got a conniving way about him, asking me all sorts of personal information that I would have rather not shared.”

  When silence met her tirade, Julianna supposed she spoke out of turn.

  “But I shouldn’t have said all that.”

  “Why?” A hint of a grin pulled at Mrs. Sundberg’s mouth. “I have met the Ramseys also, so I know you speak the truth. God help me, but I agree with you.”

  Relief poured over Julianna, although she knew Daniel wouldn’t have approved. He obviously cared deeply about his other set of parents. “Please don’t tell Daniel that I spouted off the way I did. He’s been good to me, and I don’t want to offend him.”

  “It will be our secret.” Mrs. Sundberg glanced at her daughter. “Right, Agnes?”

  “Yes, Momma.” She smiled, first at her mother and then at Julianna.

  Several moments lagged, and Julianna took the time to glance around the shop again. Once more she eyed the pretty shawl near the large front window.

  “Did you make this, Mrs. Sundberg?” Walking to where it hung on display, she stroked the light-blue yarn. It was silky to her touch.

  “Ja, I did.”

  “It was my idea to use blue.” Agnes stepped in beside Julianna. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Then you must try it on.” Mrs. Sundberg crossed the store’s scuffed, walnut-brown wooden floor. Extracting the shawl from its hanger, she set it around Julianna’s shoulders. “Now look in the mirror.”

  Julianna did as Mrs. Sundberg asked and felt awed by her appearance. The shawl made even her wrinkled traveling dress look comely.

  “Now pinch your cheeks like this.” Agnes gave a quick demonstration. “It puts a little color into your face.”

  Julianna copied the girl just as the door of the shop opened. Mark Dunbar stepped inside. He smiled at Julianna, but then seemed to forget what he was about to say.

  The Sundbergs simultaneously looked from him to Julianna and back to him again.

  “Mark?” Mrs. Sundberg moved toward him. “Do you wish to purchase another necktie?”

  “No . . . no, thank you.” He snapped from his daze. “I just came to tell Miss Wayland that . . . ”

  Julianna rehung the lovely shawl on its padded wire.

  “ . . . my father would enjoy meeting her. And we’d like to invite you to dinner tonight.”

  “Tonight?” She faced him again.

  “At our home. I’m sure my mother would like to meet you as well.”

  “Oh, but I just arrived here in Manitowoc, and I’m afraid I’ll need to get settled.” Even as the words tumbled from her mouth, Julianna wondered where she would stay.

  “Tomorrow night, then? Will you accept?”

  “Well, I . . . ” She glanced at the smiling faces of the Sundbergs. If she refused, would she offend them? “Of course.” She looked back at Mark. “It’s such a kind offer. Thank you.”

  “Tomorrow night it is.” He smiled again, revealing white, even teeth. “We don’t live far away, so I’ll come to call for you after I’m finished at the hotel—about five o’clock. If the mild weather holds, we can walk to my parents’ home.”

  Julianna tried to seem more enthusiastic than she felt. “Thank you, Mr. Dunbar.”

  “Please. Call me Mark.”

  “Very well.” Embarrassed by his obvious interest, Julianna stared at her folded hands. All she wanted was a position at his family’s hotel, not a husband.

  “I am sure you are very busy this morning, Mark.”

  Hearing Mrs. Sundberg’s voice, Julianna looked up to see the older woman ushering him out the door.

  “Thank you for calling, and we will see you again soon.”

  She closed the door on him, and Julianna watched as Mark Dunbar made his way back across the street.

  “He’s sweet on you, Miss Wayland.” Agnes hugged herself and laughed. “As sweet as sugar candy.”

  Mrs. Sundberg smiled. “He is a good man. Hard-working too.”

  “I’m sure he is all that and more.” Julianna decided that now was as good a time as any to set things straight. “But I’ll never get married, and so I mustn’t waste that fine man’s time.”

  Agnes came forward, wearing a pout. “But why won’t you get married?”

  “Bec
ause I love another man. I gave him me heart.”

  “Ask for it back.”

  Mrs. Sundberg grinned at her daughter’s childish comment and set an arm around Agnes’s shoulders.

  “And you and this other man?” Mrs. Sundberg slowly began. “There is no future for the two of you?”

  Julianna shook her head. “I’m afraid not. But I love him just the same, and I’ll never love anyone else.”

  “Hmm . . . ” Mrs. Sundberg eyed Julianna in a way that made Julianna wonder if she could read her very thoughts. “Can I guess who this man might be?”

  CHAPTER 15

  I T JUST COULDN’T be too late. It couldn’t be!

  Daniel marched toward Grainger’s General Store. After sending a message to George, asking for names of specialists in either Milwaukee or Chicago, Daniel decided to purchase supplies.

  He reached the store and entered. His eyes adjusted to the darkened establishment, and as he gazed around, he felt surprised by the familiarity. The same barrels were lined up near the counter, containing various grains, sugar, nuts, and coffee beans. On the adjacent wall were all the canned goods and syrup. The floor was still cluttered with wooden boxes and crates containing sundry other goods.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  Daniel politely removed his hat and glanced across the way to see an elderly woman with a spry step approaching him. “Mrs. Grainger?”

  “Why, yes. And who are you?” She stopped and tipped her head upon which her gray hair had been neatly arranged.

  “Captain Daniel Sundberg, ma’am. I’m visiting my family.”

  Surprise flashed across her face. “Well . . . welcome home.”

  “Thank you.” This wasn’t home!

  A look of sorrow spread across the older woman’s countenance. “What a shame about your father. Such a young man too.”

  “You’re very kind. Actually, my father is the reason I’m here.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’d like to order a wheelchair for him, and I want the best there is to offer.”

  “Well, there’s no need for a special order.” She straightened her shoulders and pulled her head up. “We’ve got a few in stock.”