Northern Lights Trilogy Read Free

from him.
    But she was too late. His eyes lit up through his tears and he glanced at Kaatje in wonder. She made another half-attempt to wrench free, but her strength seemed to be gone. She had waited so long for the joy of this moment! His large hands wandered over her stomach, searching, clarifying, frantic in their questioning. One more glance into her eyes and all his questions were answered.
    Soren jumped up with a tremendous shout, then reached down to lift her in the air, spinning her around until she felt dizzy. His exuberance melted the edge off her anger. Crazily, a smile edged her lips.
    “Soren, let me down,” she said wearily.
    “Oh, yes, yes,” he said contritely, immediately doing as she bid. “I must be careful with you. With both of you.”
    She glanced away—embarrassed that she was forgiving him yet again—and moved toward the house, but Soren gathered her up into his arms again. Kaatje gave in to the embrace, sorrowfully longing to be reassured, longing for her husband. With her head resting againsthis chest, the tears flowed while Soren once again promised undying faithfulness.

    “Father, you must let me go,” Tora Anders railed, pacing as her father sat at the breakfast table, serenely drinking his coffee.
    Elsa closed the door of their modest home behind her and remained quiet, listening to her sister and her father rehash an argument that had grown old. It was no use trying to sneak down the hall without disturbing them. From the kitchen, the front entry was visible, and both her father and Tora had glanced over at Elsa.
    “No, Tora. You are sixteen and will do as I bid until you marry and have a good man to look after you. I will not be sending you off alone without proper supervision.”
    “Proper supervision? What is Elsa?” Tora cried, gesturing toward the door and her older sister. “I do not know of anyone more proper than she.”
Ah
, Elsa thought, hiding a small smile.
She has changed tactics
. Earlier Tora had tried to get the whole family to go, then to convince their father that she was old enough to handle herself. Now she had given in to the last ploy—that he would entrust her to Elsa’s care, a thought that had previously made her younger sister shudder.
    Quietly, Elsa observed father and daughter. Tora had inherited Papa’s olive skin—and the dark, chestnut hair he once had—as well as large, expressive eyes that often spoke more loudly than words. In her father’s Elsa saw a menacing storm cloud that could always make her turn away. But not Tora.
    “We will not talk of this again, Tora. I have decided.”
    “Decided?” Tora said, her voice high and tight. She stood, placing her hands on her hips. Her skin blanched and her hair, in contrast, seemed to darken to the color of night. She and Elsa shared only one physical characteristic: startlingly blue eyes, inherited from their mother. Now, in anger, they looked like the color of a turbulent sea in winter. “How can you decide? Perhaps I will go anyway, in spite ofyour decision. What would you think of that?” she challenged, tossing her head.
    Her father stood quickly, bumping his chair over in the process. Even after years of stooping over his drawings, he was a tall man. Yet Tora stood her ground, staring up at him in open defiance. It was at that moment that their mother chose to enter the kitchen and gently edge between the two.
    “Tora, sweetheart,” reasoned Gratia, “I know this is difficult for you. But Elsa is going on to a new life. She must have some time alone with Peder for a bit before she takes on any family responsibility.” Her face took on a merry look. “Besides, she might soon have a baby. She cannot look after you too.”
    “Oh!” Tora said in frustration, her hands balled into white-knuckled fists. “You all treat me as such a child! I will go to America. You will see. One way or the other, I will get there!”
    With that, she edged past her sister and slammed the door behind