Threads of Faith Page 22

  “You should have said so.”

  “Yes, I suppose I should have.”

  “The man’s in London, I presume.”

  Let him presume all he wanted. Julianna just shrugged.

  Mark took her elbow and guided her toward the house. “The captain doesn’t know, does he?”

  “Know?” She stared at Mark.

  “That you’ve left your heart in London?”

  “Oh . . . he knows.”

  “He didn’t give any indication when I asked to walk you home.”

  “The captain is confident that I’ll forget about my true love now that I’m here in America.”

  “Ah . . . ” Mark bobbed his head.

  “But I won’t.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. So don’t waste your time with me when there are young ladies like Miss Irma Dacy available.”

  “Irma?” Mark’s blond brows drew inward.

  “Yes, I met her on Sunday morning. She’s a teacher, isn’t she?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You know her, then?”

  “Of course. I’ve known Irma all my life. We went to school together.”

  “I was very impressed with her.”

  “Oh?”

  Julianna nodded. “She’s so intelligent, up on current events. Why, I’ll bet she even reads the newspaper.”

  Mark chuckled. “I’m sure she does.”

  “Not many women do, you know, unless the articles pertain to fashion or good table manners.”

  “Really?” He seemed to gauge her remark.

  She elaborated. “Well, let’s just say that the women I associated with in London would never spend a free minute with a newspaper.” That was the truth!

  Daniel crossed the yard and met them just before they reached the house. His probing gaze briefly met hers. Was he making sure she was all right? She smiled to say she was, and Daniel looked at Mark.

  “Thank you for making the trip.” He extended his right hand.

  Mark gave it a firm shake. “You’re entirely welcome. Your father was a good man, a friend to all.”

  Julianna thought Daniel had to force the polite smile on his lips. Once more she sensed his hurt over losing the father he hadn’t known and his guilt because it had been his own fault.

  “In the end you did what you could for him.”

  Daniel hesitated. “Yes, well . . . ” He inhaled deeply and glanced around at the leafy treetops. “Death comes swiftly, doesn’t it?”

  “It can, but in your father’s case he suffered for many months.”

  Why did Mark have to say such a thing? Julianna felt like kicking the man in the shin.

  “At least you were able to see him before he passed.”

  Daniel nodded. “Well, now, if you both will excuse me, there are some other guests here whom I haven’t seen in half a lifetime.”

  “Of course, Captain.”

  “And, Mark, if you’ll excuse me also, I need to finish helping Daniel’s aunt.”

  “Certainly, Miss Wayland.” He bowed courteously.

  Turning, she sent Daniel a roll of her eyes and then caught his amused little smirk before she reentered the house.

  Hours later, after all the guests had left and the kitchen was cleaned, the Sundbergs bid Julianna good night, and she entered the smallest of the three upstairs bedrooms. The Dunbars opted for a hotel room in the city, and Julianna had thought that Daniel would prefer it too, but he chose to stay in the room in the basement. Mrs. Sundberg said she’d stayed there after she was hired to care for Sam’s stepmother. Sam had rescued her from a bad situation involving her aunt and uncle and they’d fallen in love. Julianna enjoyed hearing the tale as she helped wash and dry the supper dishes. In fact, just thinking of it made her smile.

  She peeled off her brown traveling dress and hung it in the wardrobe. She didn’t own anything black—not anymore, since the people at the dress shop in New York tossed her maid’s uniform into the hearth with their noses pinched. Standing only in her undergarments, she felt cooler, although this upper room felt much warmer than even the kitchen downstairs.

  Moving to the washstand, Julianna splashed her face and bare arms before glancing around. She’d been told that this was Miss Mary Sundberg’s bedroom at one time. Now Mary occupied the largest one, and tonight Agnes and her mother would share the room that had once belonged to Mr. Sundberg and his brother, Jackson. Their bunks, however, had been taken down and replaced with two sturdy frames and mattresses. Julianna had offered to share that room so Mrs. Sundberg could have some time to herself, but Agnes insisted upon her mother’s company and had, for the last two nights, slept in the same bed as her mother. The little girl was taking her father’s death quite hard.

  Once in her nightclothes Julianna extinguished the lamp and sat by the opened window, hoping to feel a breeze. None came. But in the stillness, sounds of buzzing and then an animal’s throaty moan off in the distance filled the darkened space outside. Were they signals of danger? Living all her life in a busy city that didn’t sleep in spite of nightfall, Julianna never heard such noises. And the suffocating heat up here made her restless.

  Padding across the floor, Julianna found her wrapper and pulled it on. She walked into the hallway and saw no lights shining from under the other bedroom doors. Quietly she took to the stairs with the moon’s glow guiding her path. When she reached the bottom, she opened the door, and cooler air fell over her. How could the Sundbergs sleep in such high temperatures?

  Making her way through the kitchen, Julianna headed for the yard. The day’s heat and humidity had abated somewhat, but it was hardly what she’d consider comfortable. The buzzing noises, however, had lessened now that she’d come downstairs and outside.

  “What are you doing still awake?”

  She startled at Daniel’s voice and pulled her wrapper more tightly around her. Then she spotted him, sitting several feet away on one of the benches they’d used for the guests this afternoon.

  “I couldn’t sleep.” She strode toward him. “All that racket was annoying me, and along with the heat, I couldn’t bear it a moment longer.”

  “What racket?”

  “Can’t you hear it?” She sat down on the bench beside him. “The buzzing and croaking, and—” She heard the moaning again. “What was that?”

  Daniel’s soft chuckles reached her ears. “That, little one, is a cow, lowing.”

  “A cow?” She sat back. “I never heard a cow do that before.”

  Beneath the moon’s shine she saw him smile. “The buzzing you hear comes from cicadas. As kids we called them tree crickets. They’re in the treetops and sing loudly on particularly hot days.”

  “Lovely music.” Julianna didn’t even attempt to hide her sarcasm. “No wonder it sounded louder from my bedroom window with a tree nearby.”

  He didn’t reply but sat forward and stared at his folded hands.

  “Are you thinking about your father?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He released a long audible sigh. “I’ve been wondering what went wrong and when it happened.”

  “His illness, you mean?”

  “No. His disappointment in me.” Daniel paused. “My parents always talked about the farm and how it would be mine someday. I let them know I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to become a farmer. After Uncle Jackson fell at Gettysburg, Bestefar Sundberg, my father’s father, encouraged me to go after my dreams before . . . before it was too late, such as in the case of Poppa. Bestafar told me my father could have been a great politician if he hadn’t married Mor.”

  Some of this Julianna had heard already, but she sat by quietly and listened, sensing his need to talk about it.

  “I left home, thinking I’d take on the whole Confederate Army single-handedly. But the war soon ended, and that’s when I met George Ramsey. I admired him because of his wealth, and since he never had an heir, he more or less adopted me.”

  Julianna wondered if that had been a blessin
g or curse. After all, he’d had a perfectly fine family here.

  “George insisted I write my parents and let them know I was alive, which I did. Then he sent me to school. Just before I turned twenty, I’d had enough of the classroom and wanted to jump into the business end of things. George decided to whet my appetite and took me on one of his business trips to Chicago. Eliza came with us that year. We were there a year before the Great Fire.” A moment’s pause, and then Daniel continued. “Since we were that far west, I asked if we could visit my family here in Manitowoc. I wanted to show them how refined and educated I was. I wanted my family to see I had a bright future ahead of me, and it didn’t involve farming.”

  “It doesn’t sound like that visit went very well.” Julianna had heard it mentioned a time or two.

  “No, it didn’t. However, it served its purpose.” Daniel crossed his legs, placing a booted foot on his opposite knee. “George helped me see that my family couldn’t appreciate my talents. They wanted to oppress me with their religious views and use guilt to control me because I didn’t want the farm. The Ramseys and I left, and I decided I didn’t want anything more to do with my parents. The Ramseys were all the family I needed. But recently I discovered George isn’t the upstanding man I thought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He looked her way and opened his mouth as if to reply, then shook his head. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. They are only suspicions. I have no proof.”

  “Proof of what?”

  “Forget it, Julianna.”

  She bristled at the sudden sharpness in his tone. “Fine.”

  “You understand now why I left?”

  “Not really. What about your sisters? You might have stayed for them.”

  Daniel lifted a broad shoulder. “They were so young. And when I last saw them seven years ago, they appeared healthy and happy. I figured they’d grow up and get married and live happy lives. What had I to do with any of it?”

  Julianna recalled Adeline’s hurt and anger when she’d seen him Saturday night. “Perhaps you were too hasty in erasing them from your life.”

  “I wondered that very thing when I received Mor’s message about Poppa being so ill. I was prepared to right all the wrongs and prove that I was a dutiful son by lending financial support to Mor and my sisters. Of course I soon learned that Addy was married. As for my father, I wanted to give him the best medical care possible. Even so, he told me with his dying breath that I shouldn’t have come back, that he was a failure—a failure as a father—because I’m a self-made man and not a God-made one.” Daniel’s voice waxed thick with emotion. “He was disappointed in me right up until the end.”

  Julianna’s heart broke for him. “Oh, he didn’t mean it.”

  “A man doesn’t waste his last breath on words he doesn’t mean.”

  She recoiled at his sharp remark.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” A weighty sigh. “I didn’t mean to burden you with this.”

  “I’m not burdened, Daniel.” She leaned sideways and touched his hand. He caught her fingers and brought them to his lips. Warm tingles flowed down her limbs. How did he manage to make her feel so completely captivated by a single gesture?

  She didn’t pull her hand away when he held it between the two of his.

  “I regret disappointing my father and, apparently, blaming Mor for something that was never her fault.”

  “Families are an oddity, aren’t they? Not that I’m any expert.” She moved closer to Daniel, and her arm rested up against his. She felt its sinews through his shirtsleeve. “I still worry over Flora from time to time, in spite of all the heartbreak she caused me with her drinking and . . . her lifestyle.”

  “It’s insanity, isn’t it?”

  “Mm-hmm . . . ” And so is sitting out here in the darkness with you.

  Julianna somehow knew that if she wanted it badly enough, Daniel would take her in his arms and kiss her again. She wondered if this was how Mum felt, so willing to give herself over to one man.

  At the notion something deep inside of Julianna pricked enough so that she slowly withdrew her hand. Suddenly what she wanted and what she felt warred within her being.

  She swallowed. “I–I should go back inside.”

  “Yes, little one, you should.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t catch a chill out here.”

  “A chill?” She smiled. “I’ve slept outside on cold bricks in the rain and sleet. I think I can manage in hot summer weather.”

  He didn’t reply, only dropped his gaze to the lush grass beneath his boots.

  She moved toward the door, although her heart begged her to stay.

  “Thank you for listening to me ramble on, Julianna.”

  “You’re welcome. I enjoyed listening.” Something occurred to her then. “Just remember that your father was very ill before he died.” She faced Daniel once more. “I took a turn spoon-feeding him his porridge, and I thought he seemed . . . well, exhausted from life. Perhaps he didn’t mean what he said about failing.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.” He gave a half bow as though they stood in an elegant ballroom. “Again, thank you.”

  “Again, you’re welcome.”

  She stood there, her gaze locked with his, as moonlight spilled all around them. She swallowed down her desire to be held in his arms, knowing no good would come of it. Not tonight. Not ever. While he might care for her, he planned to marry someone else.

  “Good night,” she whispered. I love you! she longed to scream.

  Instead, she forced herself to walk to the house. How she managed to turn the knob, enter, and close the door behind her she would never know.

  CHAPTER 22

  Y OU SEEM TO be in better spirits today.”

  Daniel paused from cleaning the fish he’d caught this morning and glanced at Mor. “Yes, I guess I am feeling better.”

  “Mary saw you coming with the string of brook trout.” Mor lowered herself into a nearby chair on the porch. The day had just begun, but her eyelids drooped and the lines around her mouth looked more pronounced. “She is preparing the stove in the kitchen.”

  “Good. Fresh trout will make a tasty breakfast.” He turned the fish in his palm. “You look worn out, Mor.”

  “Ja, I am, Daniel. For months I dozed in a chair beside your father. I never slept. Now that I can lie down in a bed, I still cannot sleep. My body hurts and my heart is broken. I will miss your father so much.”

  He believed it and realized now that Poppa and Mor always had a close relationship, although there were times they didn’t see eye to eye. He’d been wrong about a number of things. “I had always thought that you wanted Poppa to farm but he wanted to be in politics.”

  “Oh, ja, Sam would have made a good politician. His gift was mediation.”

  “Bestefar told me that you were the one to persuade Poppa to farm.”

  Mor’s brow furrowed. “When did he tell you that?”

  “After Uncle Jack fell at Gettysburg.”

  “No, that is not correct.” She dropped her gaze. Her white-blonde hair was in its usual braid that ran around the circumference of her head. “Your bestefar’s mind slipped a little after Jack was killed. Suddenly he only remembered a time that happened before you were born, Daniel. Slowly it returned—for a time. But the truth about your poppa is he loved that land outside of Manitowoc. He loved this land too, but the farm we had to sell only months ago was special because it was ours—Sam’s and mine—and we built a life for ourselves there. Sam loved the feel of the soil, loved to plant and watch things grow. He saw firsthand God’s creation and experienced God’s provision.”

  “Except for the last couple of years.”

  Mor managed a nod. “Yes, these have been lean years—and not just for us, Daniel. But for Mary too. Out of need she has sold much of her land and clung to only a few acres, including the pond and orchards. She bartered acreage for a farmhand’s labor; otherwise she could no
t stay here alone.”

  He squinted into the sun. “I had wondered about it.”

  “For us, everything changed when your father had a stroke. Things grew desperate.” Obvious grief constrained her voice. “It nearly killed me to sell the farm, even though your poppa agreed to it. He knew I couldn’t manage.”

  Guilt threatened, but Daniel tamped down the feeling as he cleaned the last fish. Somehow he knew Mor spoke the truth. He’d been wrong to blame her all these years for stymieing Poppa’s political career. If he’d taken the time to think it over, he would have realized his father made his own choices. Sam Sundberg had been a man to follow his convictions—which was what probably irked Bestefar in the first place.

  A grin tugged at Daniel’s mouth. But then he glanced at his mother again. “Mor, I suggest you rest today.”

  She lifted a hand in protest. “No, I am all right. Just sad.”

  “I want you to rest.” Unable to help a tiny smile, Daniel lifted the cast iron frying pan in which he’d placed the cleaned fish and pushed to his feet. “I don’t want to see you washing dishes or cooking. Nothing. Understand? You’ve been through an extremely difficult time.”

  An annoyed glance was her reply.

  He decided to pull rank. “I’m the man in the family now, right? So I’m telling you to take it easy.” Daniel knew his mother wouldn’t rest unless someone ordered her. Even then, there wasn’t any guarantee she’d mind the command. He glanced at the fish then regarded Mor again. “I’m taking these inside so Aunt Mary can fry them up. May I get you a cup of coffee while I’m in the kitchen?”

  A light chuckle escaped her. “Your aunt will not allow you to set one foot inside her immaculate kitchen like that.” Her gaze roamed over his soaked attire. “Did you fall into the water?”

  “No.” Mirth tugged at his mouth. “It felt so cool, I decided on a quick swim. It did wonders for me.”

  “Ja, I imagine so. It will be another hot day today.”

  “Perhaps after you eat, you should swim too. Take Julianna, Agnes, and Mary with you.”

  “Maybe I will.” A smile lingered on his mother’s lips. “But first coffee would be good,” she replied in Norwegian. “Takk.”