Tracie Peterson - Dawns Prelude

Zee reached out and patted his hand. "Kjell, anything is possible. I won't be one to limit the Lord. Just be careful. I can see now you've already lost your heart-don't lose your values, as well."

"She's pregnant!" Mitchell declared in disbelief. "A woman of such loose moral character has no right to--"

"Oh, do be quiet," Marston said, shaking his head. "Don't you see that the child is due in December? That means she's carrying our father's baby."

Mitchell sat down rather hard, as if the shock were too much to bear. "Why didn't she say something before she left?"

"Most likely she didn't know or didn't want us to know." Marston studied the notes his man had furnished. "She wanted to depart for Sitka to he with her aunt and probably paid it no mind." Of course, there was the possibility she had known that she was pregnant and wanted to leave before anyone else found out. But why? What else was she hiding?

"Will you go to Alaska and bring her hack?"

"Yes." Marston's attitude was matter-of-fact.

Mitchell sat up in the chair. "She won't want to return, will she?"

"Probably not," Marston said, taking a scat behind his desk. "But she will come."

"I suppose this also explains her desire to keep the business."

"Why do you say that?"

Mitchell shrugged. "She wants it for the child. After all, he or she will be a Gray heir."

"I hadn't considered that, but you may he right." Marston leaned hack in the chair and pressed his fingertips together. "But that can also work to our advantage. We can point out to her that this child will need family to support him or her with education and training."

" Lydia will never want any of us around her child," Mitchell said, shaking his head. "She hates us all. She'll refuse to come."

"Then maybe she needn't come at all."

Mitchell's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"Just this: Perhaps I will go to Alaska and approach the subject from a concerned stepson's perspective. I will gently woo her with compliments and appreciation for her generosity, proclaim myself a changed man because of her sweetness, then propose that she is in desperate need of my help. After all, a widowed woman alone in the world, struggling to raise a child, will face many difficulties."

"Rut this is a rich widow."

"It doesn't matter, Mitchell. Good grief, man, you're marriedhave you not yet come to understand the emotional needs of your wife? Money means little to a woman when she is frightened and insecure about her future. Now that a child is involved, I would imagine her fears are even greater."

"But what if she doesn't even want the child? We haven't yet considered that possibility."

Marston thought about it for a moment. Everything he knew about Lydia Rockford Gray told him that would not be the case. If anything, she would keep the baby as a trophy, of sorts. A mark of her victory over her abusive husband and the family that had done her such harm.

If she doesn't want the child, I will offer to take it and raise it as my own. Honestly, Mitchell, there are more possibilities than obstacles here. If she doesn't want to cooperate, she can die, for all I care."

Mitchell's mouth dropped open, but no words were uttered. Marston couldn't help but laugh. "Don't look so shocked. We've talked about her demise before this. The notes here say she has already made provision for the child. She's asked Robinson to make up a will that leaves all of her worldly goods to the child, in care of his or her great aunt, Zerelda Rockford. She intends to keep the child, but even if she didn't, it's not the child or Lydia I care about. It's the business and the money she's robbed from us. That's all that truly matters at this point, and resolution of this problem is all I shall concern myself with."

Lydia accompanied her aunt to the Indian settlement to take some of the extra supplies she'd brought to Alaska. Zerelda assured her they wouldn't need so much, and there was great poverty amongst the Indians.

"They're proud, but exceedingly poor. We will trade with them, and that way they can support themselves," Zerelda told Lydia. "I think it's important that folks feel useful and know the value of working. We do no good to any man by giving him everything."

"I agree. I saw the damage done by that with many of our wealthy neighbors. Their sons had no reason to worry about where their money would come from, and therefore they did nothing to better themselves."

Zerelda nodded sadly. "We cannot continue to provide for their needs, then fault them for lacking ambition to improve their situation."

They had borrowed a small one-horse cart from a friend, as well as a very gentle old gelding. The wagon, though rickety, was solid enough. The seat was barely adequate for one person, but neither Lydia nor Zerelda were all that big, so they squeezed in together just fine.

Riding along in silence for several minutes, Lydia couldn't help but think hack on the things Kjell had told her on the night of the last dance. She couldn't help but wonder what her aunt might have to say on the topic. "Zerelda, do you ever question God?"

Zerelda chuckled. "I suppose I used to do it more than I do now. He never saw fit to consult me, so I started to figure He didn't owe me any answers.

"But doesn't He want us to understand?"

Her aunt looked at her. "Understand what?"

"Life. Death. The reason things happen as they do. If I could better understand why I had to go through all the pain and ugliness of my past, I might feel more inclined to trust God. If He would just give me that much."

"And you think knowing why my brother made the choice he did in giving you to Floyd Gray would honestly help you to trust God?"

Lydia knew it sounded silly, and in all truth, maybe she was just fooling herself. "I don't know. It just seems better when I understand why something is happening. When I was a little girl and my doll fell in the river, I was heartbroken and insisted my father go in after her. Mama explained that he couldn't do that because he couldn't swim and would die. That helped me to understand, and in knowing why a thing couldn't be done, I was better able to accept what had happened."

Zerelda nodded. "It sometimes helps to know the whys, but not always. If you knew why God had allowed you to marry a heartless man and miscarry the very babies you longed to mother, it wouldn't take away the past."

"No, but it might give that past meaning. Right now it feels as if it was all for nothing."

"But what of the child you carry?"

Lydia put her hand to her waist. "What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't have this baby if not for Floyd."

"If Floyd had lived, I most certainly wouldn't have this child. He would have beaten me like all the other times."

"So maybe God has a special purpose for this child and interceded on his behalf and yours."

She considered her aunt's words for a moment. "Then what of the others? Were they not also precious? Did they have no special purpose? Is God so uncaring that He saves one child and deserts another?"

Zerelda pulled hack on the reins. "Child, I know you're hurting. I know you want to fill that empty space inside you with answers. But answers aren't what will make you feel better. Only God can do that. Only making it right with Him will fill that longing."

Lydia sat quietly pondering her questions when they passed without trouble through the stockade gate. The Ranche was bustling with activity. The gate wouldn't be locked until six o'clock, hours away, so the people moved freely in and out of the settlement, and business carried on as usual. Lydia felt uncomfortable at the sight of the marketplace, where deer carcasses, wild ducks, and drying halibut hung. The smell was pungent, and Lydia feared her nausea would return.