Free Deep Harbor by Lisa T. Bergren Page A

he had called himself a Christian. He wasn’t worthy of the name. Was he even worthy to see these old friends?
    It was too late now. The stagecoach driver brought the rig into town so fast that Karl wondered how he would stop without hurting someone. He needn’t have worried. “Whoa!” the driver yelled at his team, as the passengers around Karl scrambled for a handhold to keep them from joining the others on the far bench. The coach came to an abrupt halt, jostling all the passengers.
    Karl was the first out. “Kind of reckless, don’t you think, coming in like that?” he asked, leveling a reprimanding gaze at the driver.
    The driver merely glanced at him and then turned to toss down his satchel. “Move along, mister. You do your job, and I’ll do mine. Don’t like how I do my job, don’t ride on my coach.”
    “I’ll consider the wisdom of that,” Karl said, turning toward the crowd down the street. Apparently, there was some sort of festival going on, judging from the number of people, the noise, and the banner across the street. Small towns like these thrived on festivals—a chance to see neighbors and make merry—as a good remedy to summer boredom. He had seen such events countless times before, in countless small towns he traversed, looking for the next business opportunity.
    Karl had just spotted the small two-story hotel across the street when someone screeched out his name. “Karl! Karl Martensen!” Out of the crowd came Nora Gustavson, lugging in either hand a boy of about four and a girl barely old enough to walk. Her eyes wide in surprise, she let go of their small hands and covered her mouth, and shook her head as if Karl were a vision.
    Karl laughed heartily, the first laugh of its kind in quite a while. It was so good to see his old friends. Yes, this was like coming home. “Karl! Hey, everyone! It’s Karl Martensen!” Out of the crowd came familiar faces: Birger and Eira Nelson, Nora’s husband Einar, Nels, and Mathias—rechristened “Matthew” upon arrival in America—proudly bringing his homely bride forward to meet Karl. Finally, Kaatje and her two small girls emerged. He embraced or shook hands with them one by one, exchanging small talk with each as he went, finally endingwith Kaatje. He gave her a gentle hug and then crouched to solemnly shake hands with each of the girls.
    “Where’s Soren?” he asked, as he rose and the crowd dissipated. Nora and Einar left them for a moment to retrieve refreshments.
    “He is away,” Kaatje said, her face inscrutable.
    “I see,” he said, deciding to leave it at that. “Well, I had better get cleaned up or you are liable to disown me. I’m just going to check into a room over there,” he said, nodding at the hotel.
    “Oh, there’s no need for that,” Kaatje said, hands on her hips. “Come and stay in our hayloft.”
    “That’s very kind of you, Kaatje,” he said gently. “But with your husband away, it might not look proper.”
    She nodded, flustered when she realized her invitation was inappropriate.
    “But I would take you up on dinner.”
    “That would be fine,” she said, looking pleased. “About six?”
    “I’ll be there. Just give me the directions before you leave town.”
    Einar Gustavson gripped him at the shoulder, distracting him from Kaatje. “Martensen, what brings a seaman like you to town?”
    “Well, I’ll tell you, Einar, I’ve been away from the oceans for some time. I’ve been building steamship businesses along the riverways. Mostly along the Northern Pacific route. Facilitating loading, passengers, that sort of thing.”
    “Ah, I see,” Einar said, nodding sagely. “Sounds fine. You and Peder parted ways, then?”
    “Yes,” Karl said, looking away into the distance so as not to betray too much. “Some time ago. I hear his shipyard has been a great success.” He paused, then changed subjects. “It was a letter from Kristoffer that let me know where you all had settled. Thought I’d come