8
Hallie stood in the cool murk of the foggy afternoon as Pastor Treadwell read from his book of scripture. Her stoic gray eyes had no sparkle. They were dry and dull, as if mirroring the dismal shade of the overcast sky. Her breath formed small, dew-laden clouds in the dank air. She inhaled deeply, and her breath caught.Hollowness and pain seeped into her bones like the thick fog floating in from the bay.
Death didn’t become more bearable each time it tainted your life. It played a hiding game. The bruising pain of grief would dim with the passage of time, appearing only as an occasional flicker of loss. Life would go on, until the next time. And then it burned through you, this lonely feeling of being left behind and forgotten. Alone. Floating like that fog, with nothing to ground you. Her parents were both gone, without warning. Her roots had disappeared and she felt lost, and scared. Dagny, Liv, and the twins were now her sole responsibility.
Liv was squeezing her fingers tightly, as if their small touch was the only thing holding her together. Hallie looked down at Liv, the family warrior, who held onto her so fiercely. With stiff shoulders Liv stared straight ahead, her gaze fixed upon the small granite marker wedged into the slope of the cemetery. Her stubborn little chin quivered. Defiant Liv wouldn’t cry. It was pure cussedness that made Liv fight her emotions as she fought anything she considered a weakness. Hallie watched as determination battled with sorrow in her young sister’s expression, and the only thing that kept her from pulling Liv into her arms was knowing her sister’s pride wouldn’t welcome any comfort. Liv’s free hand clutched at the fabric of her woolen dress, pulling the hem up just enough to reveal a dirty, bare toe.
She was barefooted.
A chunk of rock skidded across the damp grass and hit the pastor’s boot with a solid thud. His flood of words stopped immediately and he turned his disgruntled gaze toward Knut, who held Hallie’s other hand. He wore a goggle-eyed look of guilt. Gunnar stood quietly between Knut and Dagny.
Hallie frowned her disapproval and shook her head slightly. After a few more long seconds, the pastor resumed his eulogy.The twins didn’t understand their loss. To a four-year-old, death was only a word: its consequences wouldn’t be felt until they next wondered when their da would be home. Only time would teach them that death meant their father would never be back.
“Donnn’t!”
Knut’s whispered whine raked Hallie’s ear. It sounded as loud as cannon fire, so she was surprised when Pastor Treadwell continued. Knut glowered at Gunnar, and Hallie squeezed Knut’s hand to capture his attention. He’d barely looked up at her when he tattled, “But he’s touching me!”
“Shhh.” She started to lean toward Gunnar, intending to give him a quick talking to, but Dagny was already whispering in his ear.
Gunnar waited a few moments and then leaned his shoulder toward Knut, who saw it coming and stepped out of his brother’s range. But apparently, besting Gunnar wasn’t enough. Knut stuck his tongue out tongue out taunting Gunnar.
It was a gesture that dared him to do something about it. His eyes narrowed, and he moved closer to Knut’s, ready for attack.
Hallie snapped her fingers right in front of their glaring faces, and they both looked up at her. She shook her head. They settled down, and soon both boys were innocently staring straight ahead. Hallie sighed in relief.
Unfortunately, the peace lasted only about halfway through Pastor Treadwell’s reading of the Twenty-third Psalm.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil...”
Gunnar picked that moment to reach out with his devious little fingers and pinch the tender skin of Knut’s forearm.
Hallie’s used her hand to smother the yell from Knut and she pulled him back into the muffling fabric of her skirts. But Knut was so angry he kicked out, aiming for his brother’s shin...
But a masculine body stepped between the boys, separating them before they ended up with a gravesite brawl.
Hallie looked up, intending to give the man—this heavensent angel—a smile of thanks.
Kit Howland stared back at her, and she quickly looked the other way. He was no angel.
Her little brother’s muted words vibrated against her palm. As her hand fell from Knut’s mouth, Kit placed his own tanned hand on the Knut’s shoulder.
Hallie tilted her head slightly to the right. The wide bow on the brim of her hat flopped back, giving her a clearer view of Kit, staring at her with a worried expression. She looked away quickly.
The bow flopped back and she stared straight ahead and closed her eyes.
Kit saw Hallie was doing her best to ignore him, and a large part of him was relieved. He hadn’t known what to expect from the Fredriksen children, and Hallie and Dagny were young, and he had no idea how they would react. What he found was Jan Fredriksen’s daughters stiff-backed and dry-eyed.
Maybe Lee was right about his fostering of Jan’s children. It might not change his life at all. Two wagonloads of whalemen pulled up just as the minister closed his bible and moved toward the family. Surprise lit Hallie’s face when she saw the whole crew climb down and silently approach her. Kit wondered how she’d handle this.
Amos Smalley led the group, and Kit noticed the man’s hat was crushed in his fidgeting fists. Smalley stepped forward. “Miss Fredriksen, I’m sorry ‘bout your father... ‘ven sorrier I had ta be the one ta tell ya.”
Hallie held out her black-gloved hand with a graciousness that surprised Kit. “Don’t apologize, Amos,” she said, nodding toward her chalk-faced sister. “Both Dagny and I thank you for telling us right away. We know it wasn’t easy.” She even gave him a small, reassuring smile.
Smalley twisted his hat. “Thank you, miss.” He started to turn away but paused, adding, “Ya know, miss, your father, he was the finest capt’n a whaleman could set ta sea with. Never asked a-one of us ta do what he wouldn’t do hisself.” He swiped briefly at his damp eyes and walked in back of the mulling crew.
As each of the men spoke to Hallie, Kit watched her graciously thank them and give them each a kind word. She didn’t hesitate to shake each man’s hand or make them feel an awkward silence. Her voice never cracked.
He wondered if maybe he’d used her age as a defense. Where before he thought of her as immature, now he realized she had an unspoiled freshness about her. He saw a whole different Hallie. She was poised, controlled, and possessed a strength seldom found in one who had lived so few years. And for some perverse reason, Kit felt proud watching her.
