SAN FRANCISCO HELD a charm for Grace Colton that she never would have thought possible. She’d always disliked the confines of her childhood city, Chicago, and the thought of another big city after enjoying the wilds of the Alaskan Territory had been less than welcoming to her heart. But San Francisco had surprised her. There was something rather Old World about it. A kind of antiquated appeal that wove its spell around the young woman.
Of course, it wasn’t just the city. Grace was in love with her new husband, and life seemed very good indeed. Peter Colton had a way of weaving his own charm in Grace’s heart, and despite the mounting differences of opinion on religious matters and household routines, Grace was content with her new life. At least most of the time.
Tying a ribboned cameo around her neck, Grace smoothed down the layered muslin gown and sighed. Life, overall, was quite wonderful. She tried not to let her heart be worried by the increasing number of arguments she and Peter were having. Surely all couples had their quibbles. Even Peter’s mother said it was true, adding also that her son was of a very stubborn cut of cloth.
“A ship’s captain has to be strong and determined,” Mrs. Colton had told her. “It’s only natural that a certain degree of stubbornness accompany those strengths.”
Grace supposed it was true, but she nevertheless found it a darkening shadow of doubt on her otherwise happy life. Had Martin Paxton not forced her hand, she probably wouldn’t have married Peter—though it wouldn’t have been for a lack of love, for she’d fallen in love with the man almost from the first moment they’d met. Rather, she knew the harm in marrying someone who didn’t see life the same way. The issue of being unequally yoked had been something she had talked about for years with her governess, Karen Pierce. Karen was a strong Christian, knowledgeable in Scriptures and their teachings. Karen had been the one to point out to Grace that the verse warning against unequal yoking pertained to every element of life. Be it business, friendship, or love, committing yourself to someone whose convictions differed from your own would inevitably spell trouble. There lacked a common ground upon which to make decisions.
Grace could see that problem now as she dealt with her new husband. She loved him faithfully, but his negative response to her love for God made Grace quite uneasy.
“But surely God hasn’t brought me this far only to leave me now,” she murmured.
Her faith bolstered her spirits. God had a plan in all of this, she was certain. He had watched over her since the first moment Martin Paxton had tried to force his way into her life. God wouldn’t desert her now. No, Grace’s marriage was intact for a purpose. She felt confident that she would bring Peter to God. She could change the way he thought about spiritual matters. She was sure of that. After all, Peter loved her, and he would want to see her happy. In time, he’d see the truth of it all.
Sitting down to her writing table, Grace outlined her morning to be spent in letter writing. She wanted to share many things with her dear friend Karen. While Karen would forever remain her most beloved friend, Grace was pleased to discover that Peter’s sister, Miranda, was a very amiable companion. The two women had grown quite close during the three months they lived together under the same roof. It helped to fill the void created by Karen’s absence.
Picking up a pen, Grace dated the top
of her letter. March 26, the year of our Lord 1898. Then she paused.
Instead of writing a greeting to her friend, Grace was compelled to
turn her thoughts elsewhere. She had felt for some time that she’d
left unfinished business in Alaska. Martin Paxton had been the
reason she fled Chicago and also the reason she fled Alaska. Now
she felt it was time to settle the matter once and for all. After
all, her father-in-law had been longtime friends with Paxton. She
knew her arrival into the family was putting a strain on that
relationship, and she had no desire to perpetuate it further.
Putting her pen to paper, she wrote a greeting.
Dear Mr. Paxton,
The days of strife
are behind us now. It is my hope that you have come to understand the importance of my choices
and decision. It is also my hope that you
would know I have chosen to forgive you the
past.
Grace stared at the words momentarily, searching her heart to ensure the truth behind them. Yes, she could forgive Martin Paxton. He might have been responsible for ruining her family financially. He might even be responsible for her father’s sudden onset of bad health and death. But Grace longed only for God’s peace to settle upon her life, and to do that, she knew there could be no remnants of hatred or bitterness. Karen had taught her this much. She continued,
I know that by now you must realize the truth of my circumstance and marriage to Peter Colton. He is a dear man, as your friendship with his family must have made you aware. He is honorable and generous, trustworthy and truthful, and it is my prayer that our marriage will prove to be blessed by God.
That brings me to another point upon which I cannot remain silent. Mr. Paxton, you clearly harbor many painful memories of my father. Your desire for justice and even revenge on behalf of your departed mother are understandable. I am sorry for the pain my father caused you, but you must remember that people are fallible. Only God is without mistake. You will never find what you are looking for until you make right the path between you and your Maker. God is willing to hear your confession. He desires that you would give up your ways of anger and rage. He desires that you would turn to Him for comfort and peace instead of manipulating others.
“Ah, here is my lovely wife,” Peter Colton called as he entered the room.
Grace looked up to find her sandy-haired husband dressed in that same casual manner in which she’d first met him. A costume of billowing white shirt with sleeves rolled up and sides barely tucked into tailored navy trousers was set off by black knee boots and a jauntily tied neck scarf.
“Good morning, darling,” she said, setting the pen aside.
He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. Nuzzling his lips against her neck, he murmured approvingly. “Fortune has smiled upon me.”
“I found myself counting God’s blessings this morning, as well,” Grace replied just before Peter’s lips captured her own in a deep, passionate kiss.
Grace felt her body warm under his touch, and a tingling sensation ran down her back as she thrilled to her husband’s obvious interest. She had not known that physical love could be so wonderful. She’d imagined the nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach every time she’d set eyes upon Peter to be love’s physical calling card. The sight of this man, well before they were married, could take her breath and set her heart to racing. She had presumed this was what passion and romance were all about. She was happy to be wrong.
Yielding to her husband’s embrace, Grace trembled as Peter pressed his fingers into her carefully styled hair. She cared not one whit if the coiffure fell in disarray to her waist. She could remain in Peter’s arms forever.
As if reading her mind, Peter pulled away to say in a low, husky voice, “I know I have work to do, but I would much rather remain here with you.”
She laughed. “Then stay. I’ve only a few letters to write, and those can easily be put off until later.”
He kissed her one more time, then drew away. “I’ll never get anything done with you in this house.” His voice betrayed his pleasure. “So whom are you writing to?”
Grace’s joy drained away and her thoughts turned sober as she wondered how she might avoid a confrontation. Peter hated Martin Paxton, and although Grace had spoken of forgiveness, Peter saw no need for such declarations.
“I . . . um . . .” She looked to the letter and then back to her husband, who was even now tucking his shirttails more securely into his pants. “I have several letters to write. I owe Karen one and then I wanted to send my mother another letter. I do hope she’ll join us here, at least for a visit.”
Peter nodded. “So whom are you writing to now? Your mother?” He stopped and looked at her as though the answer were quite important.
“Uh, no,” Grace began. “It’s not to Mother.”
Peter noted her hesitancy and crossed to the writing table. “Then it must be to Karen.” He lifted the sheet of paper before Grace could stop him. He scanned the letter quickly, then lowered it to give Grace a hard look of disapproval.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he questioned. “You can’t send this letter. I forbid it.”
“Peter,” she said softly. “Please try to understand.”
His mood changed instantly. “I do not understand. You bandy about words like forgiveness and peace to a man who would have forced a life of misery upon you, had he his own way. A man who is no doubt responsible, by his own admission, for the destruction and devastation of the life you once knew—the people you loved.”
“You needn’t remind me,” Grace said. “I am the one who dealt with him. I know him for what he is.”
“Then why?” Peter asked in obvious disgust. “Why do you throw about your religious nonsense and correspond with such a man? Haven’t you come to understand he cares nothing about your beliefs?”
“Neither do you,” Grace said without thought. She immediately wished she could take back the words. “But I still have hope that you will come to accept the truth for what it is. I hope no less for Martin Paxton.”
“Outrageous. How dare you compare me to him? I offered you rescue—salvation. He offered only pain and suffering.”
Grace gently took the letter from her husband’s hand. “And I offer peace between all parties. Your parents are longtime friends with this powerful man. He holds a financial interest in your shipping line. I would hate to see your company or you hurt by his vengeful nature. Peter, please understand me—I write this for you as much as I write it for me.”
“Do not think to do me any favors, madam.” He always reverted to formalities when angry with her. “I ask no such agreement to be made. Paxton must pay the price for his underhanded and corrupt business practices. He has caused this family grief enough already, sneaking around behind my back, loaning my father money and making contracts against the business without my approval. If you think I will overlook such matters in whimsical phrases of forgiveness, then you are mistaken.”
“Peter, it will serve no purpose but that of darker forces if you continue this hateful battle.” She let the letter fall to the desk and now reached out to take hold of Peter’s arm. “Please listen to me. Forgiving Mr. Paxton is the only way to put the past to rest. If he sees that you wish him no further harm, perhaps your father will not suffer any adverse effects regarding their partnership. I desire only that we have a wonderful life together—you and I. I only want security for your family. Don’t you see? Can’t you understand?”
“What I can’t understand is a wife who would undermine her husband’s authority,” Peter replied in a hard, cool tone. “Why not give yourself over to reading that Bible you so love and see what it says about obedience to authority.”
He stalked from the room without waiting for her reply. Grace heard the front door slam shut. Despair washed over her, and she sunk to the chair and stared blankly at the piece of paper that had started the entire feud.
“How can it be, Lord, that forgiveness should wage such wars between us?”