Tracie Peterson - Dawns Prelude

"That's true," Zerelda said. "You always love to eat it hot out of the oven."

"I'm looking forward to getting my memory back," Lydia said. "Dr. Ensign assured me there was no reason it wouldn't return in time."

Kjell watched her move around the room. She stopped and looked down at the violin case. She studied it a moment and cocked her head hack and forth. No one said anything. Kjell knew it was important she try to remember it for herself.

"Is this mine?"

"Yes," Zerelda replied. She came to stand close to Lydia. "You've played since you were a child."

Lydia turned and looked at her aunt. "Do you suppose I will remember it if I try again?"

"You might."

Kneeling, Lydia reached for the case, then paused. Without touching it, she stood up. "I think I'll wait. I feel so good about remembering that I like rocking chairs, I wouldn't want to spoil the moment if I couldn't remember what to do."

Kjell thought her quite practical. He couldn't help but wonder if the music would come back to her. Music had a powerful way of reaching people. It was like a bridge from the heart to the mind, providing a means of expressing what words could not.

"Would you like to see upstairs', There are two bedrooms there."

Lydia nodded. "Yes, show me."

Zerelda led the way up the stairs. Lydia followed, touching the polished wood rail with great interest. Kjell walked silently behind, praying that Lydia would find peace in their home.

"My room is the first one," Zerelda said. "There's an indoor bath in the next room. See, there's a small tub and wood-burning stove with a large receptacle for water. You can heat water here and bathe in privacy."

Lydia seemed pleased. Kjell thought she might even ask to take a bath right then and there. She looked as if she were about to suggest just such a thing when Zerelda pressed on. "This is the sewing room."

Lydia stepped inside and Kjell couldn't help but wonder if she would remember that it was to be Dalton 's bedroom. She looked back rather puzzled and questioned, "Do I sew?" Kjell nearly gave an audible sigh of relief.

You were learning to," Zerelda replied. "I had been teaching you." She continued down the hall. "And the last room is yours and Kjell's."

Kjell watched Lydia hesitate for a moment before entering. For the past weeks he had tried to help her know him better-to court her in a sense. They had laughed and talked about many things-especially Kjell's past and life in Sitka.

Now, coming back to the house to the very room where she'd been shot-Kjell couldn't help but wonder what Lydia might remember. He'd taken away any reminders of the baby. He'd stored the clothes and cradle outside in one of the large sheds and figured if Lydia ever found them there, he would plead ignorance. The idea of ever telling her the truth was more than he could imagine. How could it benefit her to know that she had once had a child and now he was dead?

"It's a pretty room," Lydia said, looking around. "I like it very much. It's so big."

"Remember I told you that you and Kjell purchased this house from the man I used to work for, Mr. Saberhagen % He spared no expense in making his wife comfortable. Most of the furnishings were ones he left here when he moved back to Germany."

Nodding, Lydia touched the oak headboard of the bed. Kjell thought she might be trying to imagine lying in it perhaps even resting there with him. She moved across the room to the window and pulled the curtain aside. "It's so pretty here. I can see why I would want to live in this house."

"Well, today is exceptional for the season. We haven't had a sunny day like this in quite a while, but you're right," Zerelda offered. "The view is incredible. That was one of the reasons Mr. Saberhagen built the house here. You can see the water from here, but in the other direction are glorious views of the mountains."

"1 like the fireplace, too. The blue and white tiles are pretty" She pointed to the white mantel. "They really look nice against the painted wood."

"Mr. Saberhagen brought them from Holland. That's the country where his mother was born and raised."

"How nice." Lydia continued to look around the room.

Kjell had been silent since coming upstairs. He couldn't help but reflect on a conversation he'd had with Lydia only a few days earlier. She had told him that she was resolved to he a good wife to him that she could sense in him a compassion and love that was genuine. He had told her they could live separately upon her return to the house, especially since she was still weak from her injuries. She had thanked him and added that she felt confident her memory of him would soon return, and she would be comfortable again sharing his bed.

The thought of living in the house so close to Lydia -and yet so distant-was going to he trying. Kjell knew there would he times of sorrow when he couldn't help but think of Dalton, as well as moments of anger when he remembered all that had happened. It was Zerelda who had asked him if it would be easier if she returned to the cabin so that he and Lydia could share the house alone. He had told her no, then realized that perhaps it would he best if he stayed in the cabin instead. Moving his things there had been one of the hardest, most discouraging things he'd ever done, but he felt it was the right thing to do. Lydia needed time, and he might he tempted to press her recovery if he had to see her so intimately day in and day out.

"Everything is so bright and cheerful," Lydia said, finally coming to stand in front of Kjell. "It seems so fresh and clean, too."

"Kjell did a lot of work in here while you were in the hospital," Zerelda said. "He wanted to make it nice for your return."

Lydia looked into Kjell's eyes and smiled. "Thank you so much. You are so considerate of me."

Oh, how he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her! He wanted to stroke her long brown hair and tell her that everything would be just fine, but of course he couldn't do either one. He stepped back a pace to set an even wider distance between them.

"You're very welcome. I was glad to do it," he told her. "I would do anything for you."

After weeks of contemplating what she would do, Evie had come to the conclusion that she would push for a divorce. She would suggest an annulment but he prepared that Thomas would never want to admit to his failings as a husband. Divorce would he the last thing he'd want-she knew his family would he staunchly opposed. Perhaps, however, if she approached his parents, explaining that it was entirely her desire-that he was without fault-then they would not disinherit their son.

After a great deal of thought, Evie decided that she would say nothing about Trayton. Just thinking of the man made her angrier than she could hear. Keeping away from him had been like trying to avoid mosquitoes in summertime. He always seemed to be at the house, and he always seemed to be looking for a way to be alone with her. Evie had triumphed, however, even dashing up the servants' stairs one evening when he followed her into the kitchen.

Now Trayton was away on a trip. She had heard Thomas say he would be gone for at least a month, and that suited her just fine. It would give her plenty of time to plead her case with Thomas and perhaps even find a small house for herself.

With careful consideration to her wardrobe, Evie dressed in a dark plum- and pink-striped dress. The bodice was delicately pleated and embroidered with the finest designs in black silk thread. It was one of her newest gowns and had cost a small fortune, but Evie knew her husband could afford it. He owed her far more than a mere gown.

Sweeping across the foyer and past the stairs, Evie made her way through the large sitting room. At the far end of this, she passed through another large room, this one devoted to music. It had been where she had danced with Trayton on that fateful evening so long ago. At least it seemed long ago-a lifetime in the past. She had grown up a great deal in a few short weeks.