returned for his bride.
Leif’s gruff voice shook Peder from his daydreaming. “You should not be going again, son. You have had your journeys and adventure. Garth could use your experience at sea to our advantage at Ramstad Yard. Together, as brothers, you could build our company to new heights.”
Peder glanced at Garth, who met his look. He spoke to his father over his shoulder as he drove. “Garth knows quite enough about running the family business. And as much as I want to run a yard of my own, I believe I must be in America. Father, you should see it—”
“Pshaw,” his father exclaimed. “What could America have on our Bergen? Here, we have a port over four hundred years old. There, the entire country is barely a hundred. Who can find confidence in a government so young?”
“Governments come and go, as we have seen here,” Peder said. “But I tell you, I love the democratic constitution of the United States, and I would die to keep her free.” He swallowed hard. Then, lowering his voice, he said, “I want something of my own, Father. Ialways have. First it was captaining my own ship. Now I will build another Ramstad Yard. In America. I will make you proud, Father, as Garth will continue to make you proud here.”
Garth clapped Peder on the shoulder with an understanding smile. “I envy you, little brother. Such freedom.”
Leif groaned from the backseat. “You young men don’t know what you have. When Amund and Gustav and I were at sea, we had to entertain thoughts of how to begin our own yard when we had nothing. You, at least, come from a position of power and money. It is an edge that I envy. Not the freedom.”
“Yet you are an old man who has had his share of freedom,” piped up Peder’s mother, Helga. She was a strong, stalwart woman who had had much to do with the success of Ramstad Yard. She leaned forward between her boys, a hand on each. “He talks like a big man, but once he had dreams that were as frivolous as a child’s.”
Leif let out a sound of muted outrage as the rest of the family laughed. At heart, the big man with the tough exterior was as soft as a loving old hen.
“At least you men have the choice of whether or not to go,” Burgitte joined in. “I think it is most unfair that I must wait for a man to take me away.”
“Knowing you, Burgitte,” Peder said, smiling, “you will find just the right man to take you exactly where you want to go.”
“Yes,” Garth said, turning around. “You, baby sister, are as weak and mindless as our dear mother.”
Returning his smile, Burgitte batted away his hand, which threatened her with a pinch. “So I know my own mind. Is that a sin?”
“Oh no,” Peder said, catching sight of his bride-to-be in the church courtyard. “On the contrary. It is an attribute.”
Karl Martensen took the bentwood butter box from his father’s hands and spread the white, creamy mixture over his mother’s fresh-bakedrolls. Sonje Martensen finished placing food on the table and passed wise eyes over her son.
“What is bothering you, child?”
“Mother, I am not a child. I am a man of twenty-four.”
His mother continued to study him, and he looked away, knowing that she was memorizing his features as if she would never see him again. All three of the Martensens had ash blond hair and large bones, but it was his father, Gustav, that Karl most resembled. Karl glanced at his father, who was leaning over his plate, silently shoving food into his mouth. It was as if he was looking into the mirror and could see his own reflection thirty years hence. Hopefully his hair would not recede as his father’s had. Gustav’s nose drooped a bit at the end, and his cheeks sagged as if weighted. In contrast, Karl’s mother, who sported her own lines of aging, had pink, rounded cheeks and gentle smile lines at her eyes and mouth. Karl glanced from one to the other. He hoped he would inherit his mother’s lines more than his father’s.
I must
Leif’s gruff voice shook Peder from his daydreaming. “You should not be going again, son. You have had your journeys and adventure. Garth could use your experience at sea to our advantage at Ramstad Yard. Together, as brothers, you could build our company to new heights.”
Peder glanced at Garth, who met his look. He spoke to his father over his shoulder as he drove. “Garth knows quite enough about running the family business. And as much as I want to run a yard of my own, I believe I must be in America. Father, you should see it—”
“Pshaw,” his father exclaimed. “What could America have on our Bergen? Here, we have a port over four hundred years old. There, the entire country is barely a hundred. Who can find confidence in a government so young?”
“Governments come and go, as we have seen here,” Peder said. “But I tell you, I love the democratic constitution of the United States, and I would die to keep her free.” He swallowed hard. Then, lowering his voice, he said, “I want something of my own, Father. Ialways have. First it was captaining my own ship. Now I will build another Ramstad Yard. In America. I will make you proud, Father, as Garth will continue to make you proud here.”
Garth clapped Peder on the shoulder with an understanding smile. “I envy you, little brother. Such freedom.”
Leif groaned from the backseat. “You young men don’t know what you have. When Amund and Gustav and I were at sea, we had to entertain thoughts of how to begin our own yard when we had nothing. You, at least, come from a position of power and money. It is an edge that I envy. Not the freedom.”
“Yet you are an old man who has had his share of freedom,” piped up Peder’s mother, Helga. She was a strong, stalwart woman who had had much to do with the success of Ramstad Yard. She leaned forward between her boys, a hand on each. “He talks like a big man, but once he had dreams that were as frivolous as a child’s.”
Leif let out a sound of muted outrage as the rest of the family laughed. At heart, the big man with the tough exterior was as soft as a loving old hen.
“At least you men have the choice of whether or not to go,” Burgitte joined in. “I think it is most unfair that I must wait for a man to take me away.”
“Knowing you, Burgitte,” Peder said, smiling, “you will find just the right man to take you exactly where you want to go.”
“Yes,” Garth said, turning around. “You, baby sister, are as weak and mindless as our dear mother.”
Returning his smile, Burgitte batted away his hand, which threatened her with a pinch. “So I know my own mind. Is that a sin?”
“Oh no,” Peder said, catching sight of his bride-to-be in the church courtyard. “On the contrary. It is an attribute.”
Karl Martensen took the bentwood butter box from his father’s hands and spread the white, creamy mixture over his mother’s fresh-bakedrolls. Sonje Martensen finished placing food on the table and passed wise eyes over her son.
“What is bothering you, child?”
“Mother, I am not a child. I am a man of twenty-four.”
His mother continued to study him, and he looked away, knowing that she was memorizing his features as if she would never see him again. All three of the Martensens had ash blond hair and large bones, but it was his father, Gustav, that Karl most resembled. Karl glanced at his father, who was leaning over his plate, silently shoving food into his mouth. It was as if he was looking into the mirror and could see his own reflection thirty years hence. Hopefully his hair would not recede as his father’s had. Gustav’s nose drooped a bit at the end, and his cheeks sagged as if weighted. In contrast, Karl’s mother, who sported her own lines of aging, had pink, rounded cheeks and gentle smile lines at her eyes and mouth. Karl glanced from one to the other. He hoped he would inherit his mother’s lines more than his father’s.
I must