by Tricia Goyer
He felt movement beside him, and a manicured hand presented him with a mug of steaming chowder. Brett’s stomach growled, and he took the offering.
Amy’s light brown ponytail flipped from side to side as she sat. “Tomorrow’s my last day, then I’m heading into Juneau to buy some Eskimo dolls and fake fur slippers and shot glasses. I’ll be like one of the cruisers taking home trinkets that fail miserably at relating the wonder of this place.”
Brett nodded and stirred his chowder, watching the steam rise. He took a bite and warmed from the inside. “Alaska is like your first kiss. It’s not what you thought, more wonderful than you realized, and it fills you with more emotion and longing than you can explain.” He chuckled. “And that no fake fur slippers can ever express.”
Amy patted his hand and then rose to head back to the galley. Even though her lips turned up in a smile, tears rimmed her eyes. In a few weeks she’d be back at college, hauling around a backpack filled with books and dreaming about puffins gliding through the water.
Brett had taken Amy on a few dates, but in the end, they’d decided they were only friend material. Partly because his heart was stuck on someone else, and partly because he knew Amy would soon be gone.
Is that how Ginny feels about everyone in her life? His stomach dropped, puddling in his gut. She’d been through a dozen foster homes during her growing-up years. And then she lost the one family she loved most. It was no wonder she had a hard time letting anyone get close.
Brett rubbed his forehead and lowered his head. He had to find her. He also knew what to pray—something he hadn’t thought about praying until now.
Lord, when I find her, help me see Ginny for who she is. Not who I hope her to be. And help me to find a way to be there for her…in a way she’s never known, Lord. In a way she’s never known.
* * * * *
Ginny found the next letter wrinkled, as if it had been crumpled and straightened again.
August 4, 1928
Mr. Cooney,
I have no desire to be in your debt; however, circumstances being what they are, I must. I accept your offer to pay Grandfather’s bills, but only as a loan. I will personally repay every penny, even though it was your own treacherous deeds that sent us to ruination in the first place.
Elizabeth McKinley
The next letter—revised, from Ellie to Felix:
August 4, 1928
Mr. Cooney,
Thank you for your gracious offer to pay Grandfather’s medical bills. I promise to repay every penny.
Elizabeth McKinley
Ginny smiled and looped a stray hair behind her ear. Wise girl. Wiser than me. I would’ve sent the first one.
She’d taken Bud home, then returned and made Grandma Ethel a small bowl of soup, watching to make sure she ate every bite. Grandma had pointed to the letters, and Ginny had read the note to Felix aloud. She’d thought about asking Grandma who Ellie was but then changed her mind. Ginny was never one to read the end of a novel first, and Ellie’s letters had become a fanciful tale to her. She wanted the story to unfold and had noticed Grandma Ethel’s nod and smile as if she knew a secret that would be revealed in time.
She glanced over to find that the sweet old woman had drifted off to sleep in the La-Z-Boy chair. Ginny put away the notes to Felix and pulled out a newspaper article.
Women Entrepreneurs in the Territory of Alaska
The call to a great Alaskan adventure has issued forth to select women peppered around the United States and Canada. It is not the gold hunger that spurs these young ladies. No, it is a good old business opportunity. Women are scarce in the gold fields, forcing men to take on the “women’s work” themselves. One sourdough put it this way, “I ain’t fer washin’ clothes and cookin’ vittles. An’ when my socks got holes, heck if I know how to darn them dang things. When I heard tell of womenfolk up here willing to do some mending and fixin’ vittles and all, I thought that to be a joyful thing.”
It certainly seems to be a “joyful thing” for Miss Dorene Simms, who has earned four times the living she made as a seamstress in San Francisco in only six months. “Plus, I found myself a bit of gold as well,” added the professor’s daughter.
Ginny leaned back as she skimmed the rest of the article. It quoted more women who made livings in Alaska, not by prospecting but by selling services like sewing, cooking, and knitting. She imagined what ideas spun through Ellie’s mind, and then hurried to read the next letter.
August 11, 1928
Dear Grandfather,
I’m sitting at our spot by the bay. It’s sunset. The lavender sky falls against the horizon.
I have five letters in my shaking hands. Collections, rejections from prospective employers, and your letter, offering me the opportunity to go to the Territory of Alaska. I don’t want to go, Grandfather. I don’t want to leave you.
A minute ago a man and woman strolled by, happily holding hands with their little girl bobbing between them. It’s the perfect picture—except for the little girl’s grandfather. He should be there too.
Yesterday I left the home of my employers, the Davises, on the very street where I grew up. It’s difficult to let it go, but I must. I’m content here in this tiny flat next to the hospital, but of course, my limited funds won’t sustain me for long.
My legs want to run—run to your hospital room and hide in your arms forever. But I can’t. I must leave this life behind and go to a faraway land of cold and darkness.
Yes, I will go to Alaska and help Mr. Parrish with his children. Perhaps the adventure will distract me from this gloom. I’m trying to keep wearing my smile, Grandfather. I know you’d want me to.
Please do not ask me to marry him. It is beyond my poor heart’s ability. I will serve as a governess. I will try to make money sewing and mending as well. I will do my best, because I love you.
Elizabeth
August 19, 1928
Dear Brother Peter,
I am mighty grateful for your concern. Despite our spotty mail service, I received the two photos with biographies the missions board sent me. I imagine they’re wanting me to choose between the women. Now, I’m sure they are both fine young ladies, but truth is I don’t see myself driving down the road to matrimony again. Marriage is a wonderful institution, but I’ve got good reason not to partake.
First, I expect being single will allow me, like the apostle Paul, to serve my congregation well.
Second, I figure I can tend my kids well enough myself. Don’t need any help.
Third, I owe it to Adelaide’s memory. She was about the best wife a man could ask for. Tethering my heart to another—well, that would say someone else held a candle to her, and that just isn’t the case.
Fourth, my children need my full attention. A wife would only serve to distract me.
And finally, I sure don’t intend to care for a woman only to suffer another loss.
In sum, I don’t require a wife, now or ever.
Please forward my wishes to the Missions Board, and I’ll consider the whole issue settled.
With my kindest regards,
Clay
Ginny pulled out an odd-looking letter next. It looked like Clay’s handwriting, but it was a little shakier, as if he’d written it on a boat. It was addressed to Ellie’s grandfather.
August 24, 1928
Dear Brother Peter,
Changed my mind. I do want a good wife after all. Please send the pretty one.
Yours truly,
Reverend Claiborne Parrish and his children, especially my dear daughter Janey, who wants me to be happy again
August 25, 1928
Dear Ellie,
I am so glad you agreed to go. The missions board and Reverend Martin in Hoonah are pleased as well. We all want the Lord’s best for Brother Clay. I received a letter confirming my friend Clay’s desire and need for a wife.
(Nurse S. here: He means governess. I tell him you don’t want to marry some strange Alaska man. Alaska’s
a wild country. Only swindlers and crooks go there.)
I am sorry you must give up your dreams of becoming a fashion designer. The Lord’s plans are better than ours. You will see in time, although it’s difficult now.
I’m enclosing your ferry ticket to Seattle, with a transfer to Juneau. You will have to find your own way from Juneau across the inlet to Glacier Bay. I am told there are those who will give you a ride. Be careful. I know God’s hand of providence will guide you. Amen and amen!
The Missions Board was kind enough to include money for food and whatever you may need on your journey.
Grandfather
Thursday, Sept. 1
Grandfather,
What a ship! I love my room. It’s small, with a bunk bed and a little sink, but it’s clean, and I’m basking in the simplicity of it. I may never want a world full of things again.
It was as if the sun’s rays, like arms, enfolded me as I stood on the deck, watching San Francisco become smaller. And, oh, Grandfather, the ocean! I’ve always loved the crashing waves, but it’s different out here. The calm, the waves lapping against the hull like a gentle drumbeat. I admit my sense of adventure is stirring—you knew it would. Maybe I should be a boat captain instead of a seamstress.
Friday, Sept. 2
Grandfather,
Oh, Grandfather! You won’t believe what happened. I found a letter, hidden away in a fold of my coat pocket, from James! The day I moved from the Davises’, I’d left my coat on the seat of the taxi. He must’ve slipped it in while I was saying good-bye. I thought I saw him hovering around that day.
I’ll copy the letter for you!
Ellie,
I heard you plan to travel to the Territory of Alaska to marry a reverend you have never met. I know it is too late to renew our plans, but Ellie, before you take this step, perhaps we should try to patch things up between us. I am sorry I failed to support you when your grandfather was sick. I know your kind and compassionate nature will cause you to forgive me.
I hope you will write and keep me from wallowing in loneliness for you.
James
Isn’t that amazing? I’m all the more determined to come home as soon as I make our fortunes.
Good night, dear Grandfather.
All my love,
Ellie Bell
Chapter Fourteen
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The blue van creaked and rocked as it lumbered over the potholes in the dirt road, and Ginny almost wished Danny could see her now. What would he think? He’d insist she leave this nowhere place, but as Ginny drove toward Four Corners, the small, rumble-tumble houses, unique businesses, and picturesque inns were growing on her. And the fact that everybody waved. She’d never been in a place like this. She passed two cyclists, folks in their yards, and a few women out on a stroll, and they all waved as if she was their best friend and they’d been waiting all day to see her.
Did Ellie come here? What would it have been like in 1928? No paved roads. Fewer houses. Then again, it wasn’t as though this place kept up with the rest of the world even today. There were no strip malls. No fast-food drive-throughs. No Starbucks. No chance to hide from your neighbors.
No chance to run away without putting some thought into it.
Ginny bit her lip. She couldn’t just get in the car and run from Brett, as she had done in California. No matter the tension that knotted her stomach like a ball of tangled yarn, she had to stay. She had to face him.
As Four Corners approached, Ginny realized she’d missed the mercantile. She’d just flipped her turn signal to turn around when a sign on the left caught her attention: FIREWEED COFFEE AND TEA HOUSE.
She slammed on the brakes, turned the wheel, and pulled into the gravel parking lot. Thankfully no one was behind her. Then again, she didn’t think she had seen anyone behind her the whole drive.
She parked the car, glancing at the pine trees, the sky, the clouds. She opened the door and climbed out—skirting around a mud puddle—and wondered again about Ellie. Surely she had to be related to Grandma Ethel, or at least a dear friend. Ginny tried to remember what Brett had told her. Had Grandma Ethel grown up in Glacier Bay? Had she known Ellie?
Ginny stepped onto the small boardwalk that led up to the coffee shop, and the ringing of her cell phone caused her to jump. It had been days since she’d heard it ring. She pulled it from her pocket, and it wasn’t until she answered that she realized she hadn’t checked to see who was calling. Too late. She hoped it wasn’t Danny. She didn’t want to explain why she wasn’t on a flight home.
She bit her lip. “Hello?”
“Ginny. Wow, you answered.”
She recognized her older brother’s voice immediately…and then her heart sank, remembering she could not officially call him that. Drew wasn’t really her brother. She was never adopted into the family. No court in the country could prove she belonged to them.
Drew treated her like any of his other siblings, but each time she was around his family, she felt like a traitor. She felt even worse that he’d given her so much—paid for her college—and she’d walked away to follow her music dream.
She blew out a deep breath. “Drew, yeah, it’s me. Sorry I’ve missed a few of your calls lately.”
He laughed, and it reminded her of his dad’s laugh. Pain tightened her throat, but a sad smile touched her lips. She was thankful for the days she did have with them.
“Well, it’s so good to get you,” Drew continued. “We were wondering if you wanted to come up for the weekend. It’s Cooper’s birthday.”
“Really? Is he four?”
“Six.”
“Six already?”
“Years pass quickly, don’t they? It’s hard to believe it’s been five years since—”
“I wish I could come,” she interrupted, knowing where he was going with the conversation and not wanting to go there. “But I won’t be able to make it. I’m not in Los Angeles. I’m actually in Alaska.”
“Alaska? Are you up there to film a music video or something?” Excitement tinged Drew’s voice.
“No, uh, I’ve come to talk to an old friend.”
“Wasn’t that guy you dated from Alaska? Was his name Brian? He was a nice guy. Whatever happened to him?”
“Brett.” She pressed her lips together, and she had a strong urge to take her phone and chuck it under the tires of the large truck that had just pulled up.
She’d tried to explain to Drew before why things had ended between her and Brett. The problem was, no one accepted what she had to say. She repeated the rehearsed words again. “Brett and I were heading two different directions. I took a leap of faith and followed my dream. Everyone has a dream, right?”
“Of course.” His voice sounded more distant than it had a few minutes ago. “So is that why you went up there…to see him?” Drew wasn’t going to let her off easy.
“Yeah, I did, but he’s off in the outback somewhere. I need some advice about a recording contract, that’s all.”
“Hmm…”
She imagined her brother stroking his chin and nodding like he always did when he was deep in thought.
“That should tell you something,” he finally said.
“About what?”
“That you’re running again, but this time, it’s in the right direction. Last time you ran to your dream, but when your fears arose about this contract, you ran to where you felt safe. When we’re afraid, we always run to who we feel safe with.”
“Mm-hmm.” Ginny nodded, but she wasn’t convinced he was right. She was about to tell Drew that she’d made the right choice in going to LA when the coffee shop door opened and an older couple walked out with paper cups in hand.
“I better go,” she hurriedly said, before he had a chance to repeat the lecture of how irresponsible she’d been to leave college midsemester, especially since she’d been doing so well in all of her classes. “Tell Cooper I’ll try to call on his birthday, okay?”
“Sur
e. Tell Brett hi too. Love you, sis.” Drew hung up the phone.
“Love you,” she whispered, even though the call had already been dropped. She did love him and the rest of his family—that was the problem. Being around him reminded her what she could have had. What she’d never have again.
Ginny blew out a long, slow breath. Should she call Danny? With cell phone service, she had no excuse but…
She glanced at the time on the clock. He was probably out playing tennis, like he did every afternoon. That was enough of a reason to justify sending a text.
Danny. Miss you lots. Bad cell service here. Hope you’re enjoying your game. A sweet old lady I know had a heart episode. I needed to stay. Be down there soon. xoxo Ginny
Ginny sent the message. Why am I putting off talking to Danny?
He cared for her. He had her best interests at heart. He was a good man. He’d already taken her places she never dreamed she’d go. But…if she talked to him, he would persuade her with his charm, his influence. He’d figure out a caretaker for Grandma Ethel, send a huge bouquet of flowers, and whisk Ginny back to LA.
She wasn’t ready to go back. Not yet.
A bulletin board filled with ads was posted on the exterior of the coffee shop. She read one about a “Gustavus-style” car for sale. It had no headlights and no brakes. She supposed with a twenty-five-mile-an-hour speed limit and not too many roads, neither were needed. She tried to imagine a for-sale ad like that in Beverly Hills, and a chuckle bubbled up. This place was refreshing. It couldn’t be more different from LA—where body parts, names, and biographies were more fictional than real.
Another handmade note on pink paper drew her attention. Baby Shower at Gina’s. Saturday at 2:00. Ginny grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. Evidently everyone knew Gina, where she lived, and what Saturday.
If Ginny lived here, everyone would know her, but would they like her? Maybe if she allowed herself to be as real and unpretentious as everything else around here.
She blew out a breath, and tension released from her shoulders. Was the God-loving girl whom Brett once loved still in there somewhere?