Morning's Refrain (Song of Alaska Book #2)

By Tracie Peterson

As dark family secrets threaten the tranquility of the life he's come to love, Dalton Lindquist must make difficult choices about the future. To complicate matters, Phoebe Robbins falls into his life quite literally when Dalton rescues her after she tumbles overboard in the Sitka Harbor. He quickly loses his heart.

But Dalton is not the only one who decides to seek Phoebe's attention--his best friend, Yuri, decides to court her when Dalton must travel from Sitka. But when Dalton realizes the depth of his love for Phoebe and returns, the two friends find that their battle for Phoebe's admiration is only the start of the problems that face them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
• Release date: Mar 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9781441207630

Tracie Peterson

Tracie Peterson (TraciePeterson.com) is the bestselling author of more than one hundred novels, both historical and contemporary, with nearly six million copies sold. She has won the ACFW Lifetime Achievement Award and the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award. Her avid research resonates in her many bestselling series. Tracie and her family make their home in Montana.

Book preview

Morning’s Refrain

Two

Morning’s Refrain

TRACIE

PETERSON

Morning’s Refrain

Copyright © 2010

Tracie Peterson

Cover design by Jennifer Parker

Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC

Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Published by Bethany House Publishers

11400 Hampshire Avenue South

Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

Bethany House Publishers is a division of

Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Printed in the United States of America

---

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Peterson, Tracie.

Morning’s refrain / Tracie Peterson.

p. cm. — (Song of Alaska ; 2)

ISBN 978-0-7642-0745-7 (hardcover : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-7642-0152-3 (pbk.) — ISBN 978-0-7642-0744-0 (large-print pbk.)

1. Widows—Fiction. 2. Family secrets—Fiction. 3. Alaska—Fiction. 4. Triangles (Interpersonal relations)—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3566.E7717M67 20010

813'.54—dc22

2009040891

---

To

Steve, Debra, Noelle, and Carra

Thanks for all you do to help this ministry.

You are each so special to me,

and I’m blessed by your gifts and your love of God.

Books by Tracie Peterson

www.traciepeterson.com

A Slender Thread • What She Left For Me • Where My Heart Belongs

SONG OF ALASKA

Dawn’s Prelude • Morning’s Refrain

ALAS KAN QUEST

Summer of the Midnight Sun

Under the Northern Lights • Whispers of Winter

Alaskan Quest (3 in 1)

BRIDES OF GALLATIN COUNTY

A Promise to Believe In • A Love to Last Forever

A Dream to Call My Own

THE BROADMOOR LEGACY*

A Daughter’s Inheritance • An Unexpected Love

A Surrendered Heart

BELLS OF LOWELL*

Daughter of the Loom • A Fragile Design • These Tangled Threads

Bells of Lowell (3 in 1)

LIGHTS OF LOWELL*

A Tapestry of Hope • A Love Woven True • The Pattern of Her Heart

DESERT ROSES

Shadows of the Canyon • Across the Years • Beneath a Harvest Sky

HEIRS OF MONTANA

Land of My Heart • The Coming Storm

To Dream Anew • The Hope Within

LADIES OF LIBERTY

A Lady of High Regard • A Lady of Hidden Intent

A Lady of Secret Devotion

RIBBONS OF STEEL**

Distant Dreams • A Hope Beyond • A Promise for Tomorrow

WESTWARD CHRONICLES

A Shelter of Hope • Hidden in a Whisper • A Veiled Reflection

YUKON QUEST

Treasures of the North • Ashes and Ice • Rivers of Gold

*with Judith Miller **with Judith Pella

TRACIE PETERSON is the author of over eighty novels, both historical and contemporary. Her avid research resonates in her stories, as seen in her bestselling Heirs of Montana and Alas kan Quest series. Tracie and her family make their home in Montana.

Visit Tracie’s Web site at www.traciepeterson.com. Visit Tracie’s blog at www.writespasssage.blogspot.com.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 1

June 1889

If a person needed to know what was happening in Sitka, the general store was the center of all news—whether true or gossip. Even so, this time Dalton Lindquist didn’t anticipate his family being a part of the tale spewing from Mrs. Putshukoff’s mouth.

And yet, to be honest, all of his life there had been a measure of secrecy about his past, mainly because no one was willing to talk about it. Some sort of trouble surrounded his birth or shortly thereafter—that much Dalton knew. His questions made his mother uncomfortable, and his father would admonish him to wait until he was older. Father had once admitted that someone had attempted to take Dalton and his mother had been wounded in the process, but he wouldn’t say anything more. It was Mother’s story to tell.

Then it’s time she told me, he muttered, stalking down the street. I deserve to know the truth.

It was a good two-mile walk back home, but Dalton didn’t mind. He used the time to clear his head and reconsider what he’d heard Mrs. Putshukoff say to Arnie, the storekeeper. She had come into the store all excited. Apparently there had been some untimely deaths in the Tlingit village; a fight of some sort had seen two men killed and a woman gravely injured. Mrs. Putshukoff declared there hadn’t been so much trouble since the mess that year Lydia Gray had come to live on the island.

Dalton had been standing near the back of the store, looking over a supply of paint, when the conversation had begun. He’d tried to edge closer without looking obvious, but Arnie knew he was there and hurried to hush Mrs. Putshukoff. In a town where gossip ruled, Dalton found people particularly closemouthed about his past. Perhaps it was out of respect to his mother. She was quite beloved and a pillar of the community. Maybe folks felt they owed her their silence. Then again, so many of the folks who’d lived in Sitka the year Dalton had been born were long gone.

The sun remained positioned high in the sky even though it was half past five. Summer days were long in Sitka, and there would still be a good four or five more hours of light. Today was even better, because they were blessed with no rain. The clear skies would give everyone a reason to celebrate with outdoor activities well into the evening.

Dalton’s father always said this was his favorite time of the year, and Dalton felt much the same. It really was a pity that such a perfect day had to be ruined by the weight of the secrets concealed from him. The long walk home had done nothing to calm his spirit; if anything, Dalton felt his need for answers only heightened. He longed to know about his birth—about his real father. All he knew for certain was this: His mother had been a widow when she’d come to Sitka, and she had come because her aunt lived on the island. Zerelda Rockford had established herself in this isolated place years before Dalton’s mother arrived, and she welcomed her pregnant niece with open arms. Kjell Lindquist fell in love with Lydia, and they married shortly before Dalton’s birth.

The next year, his older half sister Evie had joined them from Kansas City. When as a child he asked about Evie’s husband and why she lived in Alaska instead of wherever her husband resided, Dalton was quickly dismissed with the assurance that it was not necessary for him to know and painful for Evie to discuss. It wasn’t until just a few years ago that he’d learned Evie had left her husband because he held her no love and truly hadn’t wanted a wife. Still, there were secrets about her life in Kansas City that she refused to speak about, and Dalton was again left on the outside looking in.

Dalton! His ten-year-old sister, Kjerstin, came bounding down the hill toward the road. Look what I made. She held up a piece of cloth. "It’s a napkin, and I’ve put a Z on it. I made it for Aunt Zerelda. Mama says I should put an R on it, too, so that comes next."

Pushing aside his thoughts, Dalton inspected the material. It’s quite good. You’ve really mastered embroidery.

Mama says I’m a natural. She took back the napkin and fairly danced around Dalton. Her brown pigtails swung in the air. Britta isn’t a natural. She always gets knots in her thread.

Britta’s only seven. Give her some time, Dalton countered. And don’t be so prideful. When someone says you’re good at something, you’re supposed to say thank you.

Kjerstin stopped and looked up at him most woefully. I’m sorry. Thank you.

Dalton laughed. You needn’t mourn the matter. He rubbed the top of her head. After so many years of being an only child, Dalton had been thrilled when his mother announced she was going to have a baby. He had wanted a brother, but Kjerstin had proved to be an interesting alternative.

Where’s Mother?

She’s in the garden. You want me to get her for you?

Dalton shook his head. No, I’ll find her. You go back to your sewing.

I can come with you.

No. I want to talk to her alone.

Kjerstin put her hands on her hips. Why can’t I come along?

He didn’t want to alarm her, but neither would he lie. I just have some private questions to ask her. Nothing that needs to concern your pretty head.

Are you going to ask her about kissing a girl?

Dalton looked at his sister oddly. What in the world gave you that idea?

Well, I heard Papa and Mama talking about how it wouldn’t be long before you noticed girls and found one to marry.

Laughing, Dalton whirled her in a circle, then set her back down on the ground. I’ve already noticed girls, he told her conspiratorially, and I think I can figure out the kissing part by myself. He swatted her backside playfully. Now go on.

She giggled and hurried up the porch stairs. If you get married, she called back to him, I want to be in the wedding and wear a beautiful dress.

I’ll do what I can to accommodate you, but first I need to find a bride.

Walking around the side of the house and toward the back, where his mother was bent over a row of plants, Dalton couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted his mother and father’s discussion about him getting married. Since finishing his education, Dalton’s only focus had been on boat building—something he’d worked at since turning thirteen. He was apprenticing with Mr. Belikov, the father of his best friend, Yuri. Building boats was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. He loved the work, as well as the finished product. In fact, there wasn’t a part of the process that he didn’t love.

His mother straightened and caught sight of him. Dalton put aside his sister’s prattle and thoughts of boats. Remembering why he’d wanted to seek her out in the first place, Dalton frowned.

You look like a man with a purpose, his mother declared.

I am, he said in a serious tone. Can we sit and talk?

Lydia Lindquist’s face paled just a bit as she squared her shoulders. Is something wrong?

Nothing that a few answers won’t help. He led her to an arrangement of wooden chairs his father had made for enjoying the outdoors. I need to know the truth about my father—about my birth. I’m eighteen. I think I’m old enough to know what everyone else does.

His mother took a seat and nodded. I suppose I owe you that much.

He wanted to snap back a reply that she owed him that and so much more. Instead, Dalton pulled one of the chairs very close and sat directly in front of her. I know the past was bad. I can figure that out without you saying anything about it. So if you’re worried about hurting me, stop.

She gave him a weak smile. I’m ashamed to say my silence has been more about my own discomfort than yours. It’s painful to remember. I always hoped it wouldn’t have to come up.

I don’t want to see you in pain, Mother, but other people always seem to know more about my past than I do. Today, I overheard a comment down at the general store about the trouble that happened when you came to live here—the year I was born. I want to know what it was all about, and I don’t want to learn it from strangers.

His mother drew a deep breath. Well, it actually happened two months after you were born. I’ll try to explain it, but you may be sorry you asked. Where do you want me to start?

Who was my father? Dalton asked rather than reply to her comment.

Floyd Gray. I was very young when I was wed to him in an arranged marriage. He had been married before and his wife had recently died, she began. He and my father made a business contract that included me.

So you were forced to marry him?

Yes, she answered. "I’m sorry to say that I never loved him.

He was a cruel man, and he never showed me the least amount of affection."

But what of me—the fact that you were expecting me when he died?

You will find this difficult to understand. . . . She turned her gaze to her lap. "I’m sorry, but you were not conceived in love.

You weren’t my only pregnancy, but you were the only one that I carried to birth. The others I lost when your father became angry and took it out on me."

Indignant at the thought that any man would hurt his mother, Dalton stiffened. How did he die?

In a carriage accident with my father. My father outlived him by two days, and this in turn started a series of problems that involved the money they’d made and Floyd’s other children.

You mean Evie?

His mother looked up. He could recognize fear in her brown eyes. No. I mean the others. Your brothers and another sister.

What? He shook his head. "I have brothers? Another sister?

What are you talking about?"

It’s a very long story. Floyd and his first wife had twin sons who are considerably older than you, as well as another daughter besides Eve. They all lived in Kansas City, and they all hated me, except Eve. When I married their father, they saw me as an intruder. Eve was just a little girl at the time. I suppose that’s why she didn’t share their hatred. They were cruel to her, however, anytime she showed me the slightest affection.

I can’t believe this. Why didn’t you ever tell me? His anger rose. Did it not occur to you that I might want to know my other siblings?

That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you, she admitted. I hoped you would never need to know them. Dalton, they are not good people.

Shouldn’t that have been my choice to decide? You had no right to keep that information from me. He felt a huge sense of betrayal. What else have you kept from me? He thought back to the conversation at the store. What happened the year I was born? Who was killed?

Her expression tightened. What have you already heard?

Not enough to understand, he replied. I want to know the truth.

To his surprise, tears formed in her eyes. I always intended to tell you the truth, but . . . She choked up and buried her face in her hands.

Dalton felt bad for having upset her, but now, more than ever, he wanted to know the reason for her tears. Please, Mother, you must tell me.

He could see that his mother was working hard to regain control of her emotions, and so he said nothing more for a moment. When she finally spoke, Dalton found her words alarming.

You will have to give me time. It’s hard for me even now. . . . So much happened the night they came to take you, and some of it I still can’t remember.

Who? Who came to take me? What are you talking about?

Her gaze seemed to look right through him, as if she’d gone back in time to that moment. There were two of them. They were men who held your father a grudge.

My real father?

She shook her head. No. Kjell. But they didn’t take you for that reason. They were hired.

Hired?

They came that night and Zerelda tried to fight them off. They hit her in the head and knocked her unconscious. His mother got to her feet, her state trancelike. I had gone upstairs to tend to you, and I heard the commotion. Zerelda fired her gun. One of the men was saying something about finding the baby.

Dalton got to his feet and took hold of her shoulders. Mother, are you all right?

She looked at him but didn’t seem to see him. When he came for you, I didn’t know what to do. Kjell was working late. There was no one else to help. She shuddered. I tried to keep him from taking you.

Who? Who was it, Mother?

Anatolli Sidorov. Her voice was barely audible. She drew a deep breath and seemed to refocus on Dalton. It was Anatolli and his brother.

Who are they? I’ve never heard of them before.

Tears began to stream down his mother’s face. They were the ones who took you. I tried to fight him. I tried to keep him from taking you, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he . . . he . . .

He what? Tell me. Please.

Lydia!

It was Evie. She was coming down the path toward them. Kjell is looking for you. He needs your help in the house.

Mother, please finish what you were saying.

She wiped her eyes with the edge of her apron. He shot me.

The words were so matter-of-fact that for a moment they didn’t register in Dalton’s mind. He what?

I can’t, his mother said, shaking her head.

Evie had nearly reached them. Lydia turned to look at her. You tell him. You tell him what happened after Anatolli shot me. You tell Dalton who was responsible for them coming to take him.

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. Dalton said nothing as his mother walked away. He felt torn between a desperate need for her to return and sorrow that he’d caused her such distress. It was clear that she was shaken to the very soul of her being.

He looked at Evie. I want to know what this is all about. All I understand is that those who’ve lived in this town long enough know more about my life than I do. It isn’t right, and I want answers.

Even at the price you’ve cost her?

It’s my right! Dalton pounded his fist against the chair. I’m tired of the lies and the secrets. I want answers.

Stop throwing a fit and maybe I’ll give them to you. You’re a grown man now, Dalton. Act like one—instead of a demanding child.

I’ve lived with this shadow over me all of my life, Evie. I have brothers and another sister I was never told about. Why did you never say anything?

She shrugged. Because your mother preferred for me to say nothing.

But it doesn’t make sense. So what if my real father—our father—was a difficult man? Why should she not tell me about him, about my family? Now Mother says someone came to take me from her—someone who shot her? What is that all about? What is going on?

Our brother Marston hired two men to steal you from Lydia. Our brothers are just as corrupt and evil as our father. Our sister Jeannette is just as selfish and heartless.

Jeannette? The same one you get letters from? She is our sister? Dalton asked.

Evie nodded. Yes, we occasionally correspond, though we’ve never been close. Jeannette is not a very good sister to anyone, and I often forget about her altogether. But that aside, Marston is the one who caused most of the trouble.

But I don’t understand. Why would he want to take me from my mother?

Money, Evie said frankly. Your mother had inherited our father’s fortune. Our brothers and sister were livid. They wanted it returned. Your mother graciously gave them back a portion, but because you were also a Gray child, she felt you deserved to inherit, as well.

I know nothing about an inheritance. This doesn’t make sense.

Evie put her hand to her temple for a moment. To Dalton, it looked as if she was struggling to determine how much she could really say and how much needed to remain a secret. Finally she spoke in a soft, deliberate manner.

Perhaps . . . in time it will. For now you have to understand that our brother was responsible for nearly killing your mother. He ordered it done—he planned for her to die so that he could lay claim as your next of kin. That way the money would come back to the family through you.

Dalton sat down hard. The wind was nearly knocked from his lungs. What happened after the man shot Mother?

Evie’s tone softened as she sat down in the seat Lydia had occupied only moments earlier. The men who attacked her that night took you to Marston. In turn, Marston killed Anatolli, but his brother, Ioann, got away. Marston took you to Kansas City, but everyone here thought you were dead. That was what Marston wanted people to believe. Kjell fought to save your mother’s life—getting her and Zerelda to the hospital as quickly as he could. Lydia was unconscious for a long time—they didn’t think she would make it.

What happened to Marston?

When he arrived in Kansas City several weeks later, he put you in my care, telling me your mother had died in childbirth. I was miserable in my marriage and desperately needed to focus on something else. You were the answer. I was content to raise you and forget about my other problems. I felt it was something I could do to honor your mother. But the truth came out. Your mother hadn’t died. She very nearly did, and even when she recovered she had no memory for a long while. She didn’t know Kjell or Zerelda, and she didn’t remember having a son.

How could she not know? he asked.

Evie shook her head. She had lost a lot of blood, and the doctor said that, along with the shock of what had happened, had caused her to temporarily forget.

How did you learn that she was still alive?

I overheard a conversation between our brothers and my husband one afternoon. It was then that I realized that Marston had tried to end Lydia’s life in order to have control of you and the inheritance. The entire matter sickened me. I felt a fool for not having figured it out sooner.

What happened then?

I set plans into motion to get you back to Lydia. I told my husband I wanted to take you to England and show you off to friends. My brothers thought this a great plan. See, I knew they would want to get you out of sight so that if Lydia sent the police, they wouldn’t find you.

So you pretended to go to England but came here instead?

Yes. It wasn’t until I showed up with you that Lydia regained her memory in full. She had been getting bits and pieces of it back over her long recovery. But when I showed up with you, she passed out from the shock. It was as if everything came back to her at once and was simply too much to bear.

Dalton rubbed his eyes, nearly overwhelmed by all that Evie had just shared. Please go on. What happened after that?

"With my testimony and that of Ioann Sidorov, we saw Marston tried for kidnapping. He wasn’t charged with murder or even attempted murder. He denied having anything to do with Anatolli’s death and suggested that Ioann had done it.

He did admit to arranging the kidnapping, but he said that he had never wanted any harm to come to anyone in the process. He lied and said that he was simply worried for your well-being in the wilds of Alaska. He said your mother was ill-equipped to care for you, and that her mind had never been strong. The judge didn’t know her, of course, and chose to believe Marston. At least he believed in the money Marston paid him behind the scenes. Marston was sentenced to five years in prison but served none of it. Instead, he was given probation. While the verdict removed him from his place in polite society, it seemed to garner him an even more powerful position among those in the world of crime. From what I’ve heard from our sister, he’s made a nice sum of money for himself once again and has a great many dangerous friends.

So he got away with killing that Anatolli man and trying to kill my mother.

And injuring Aunt Zee. Not only that, but there were other things that happened, and Marston seemed to be tied to those, as well. But he’s so crafty. He always manages to buy or talk his way out of any guilt. Can you see now why your mother kept this from you? Evie took hold of his hand. Dalton, you mustn’t hate her for the secrets she kept. The truth was so hideous, so distasteful, that she couldn’t bear to let it affect your upbringing. She thought it would protect you in the long run.

He shook his head. Protect me from what?

Evie straightened. From Marston, of course. He won’t let the matter rest forever. We fear he will someday find you—try to persuade you to join him—to be your father’s son.

Chapter 2

Dalton thought long and hard on the facts his sister had delivered. They sat in silence, staring out at the lush forest and snow-capped mountains. Dalton’s mother had once told him there was a symphony of music that seemed to come from Alaska itself, but right now all he could hear was the drumming of his heart. The accusations and angry

Reviews for Morning's Refrain (Song of Alaska Book #2)

[judyg54 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was another romantic adventure story set in the land of Sitka, Alaska. It is book two in the 'Song of Alaska Series' and does a great job of continuing the saga of the Gray-Lundquist family. I have always enjoyed stories set in Alaska and Tracie Peterson does a good job of giving you the chance to feel and read what life was like in Sitka in the late 1800's.This story begins with Dalton Lundquist, now a grown up man who is beginning to question his family background and the dark family secrets. He has a close friend Yuri, a desire to begin his own boat building business and a special interest in the new young lady who has just moved to Sitka with her family, Phoebe Robbins.Phoebe is not very excited about her family's move to Alaska but she is excited about her growing feelings for Dalton. But as in all good stories there are conflicts, heartaches and struggles to work through. I like the way this author beautifully weaves in throughout her stories the dependency and help we all need from God and His word. I look forward to finishing this series by reading "Twilight's Serenade" next! Could these stories be read as stand alones? Yes. Would I recommend doing that? No.I also really appreciate the care and attention given to each of the book covers in this series. They just draw you in and say, "read me".