by Tricia Goyer
“We better go!” Joseph, his blond hair flapping in the wind, called to me. He was right.
“I’m so sorry, miss,” I said. She was still staring at the bleak spot where her chest and sewing machine had sunk. “That machine wouldn’t have worked anyway. There’s no electricity at Strawberry Point.”
Linc added his great offer to jigger something up for her. He said he’d heard of someone hooking a sewing machine up to a bike to generate the electricity. The lady pedaled while she mended. I wanted to elbow him in the ribs, because it didn’t matter now. Not with that machine at the bottom of the bay.
Linc’s mighty smart with mechanical how-to, but such trouble in the mouth.
At Linc’s words, she looked like she was going to crumble into a sobbing fit. Mercy, I’m not skilled at dealing with a sobbing woman.
She grabbed me again. This time my arm. “Please, sir. Please.” She didn’t sound angry now. More desperate, like a fearful child. “I’ve come this far. I can’t be turned away. I promised to make this work. I have to at least try.”
Something about her sad face. The green eyes. Well, I let her onboard—against my better judgment.
As we boarded, Linc called to me. “All is ready, Uncle Clay.”
Suddenly, the woman halted. “Your name is Clay?” Before I answered, an odd look came over her face. “You’re not a reverend, are you?”
I nodded.
She glanced at her hands and then sized me up, from my scraggly hair and scruffy beard down to my dungarees, bowie knife, and mud-crusted boots. Then she really sobbed.
That’s when she told me.
“I’m Ellie. Elizabeth.”
I admit, I still didn’t know what she was talking about. You see, Brother Peter, I wasn’t expecting your young lady. I had put the matter out of mind—seeing as I told you “thank you, but no thank you” in my letter.
“Elizabeth McKinley.”
Then it hit me like a lampoon in a whale’s gut. This woman was your granddaughter.
Clay
September 9, 1928
Grandfather,
I can’t even put into words. I lost my sewing machine. And everything else. All my plans for earning enough money to pay the medical bills, to prove myself to James. Gone. I found out there’s barely anyone living here to sell things to anyway, plus no electricity. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay Felix Cooney back.
Much more to tell. The man hates me. Why am I here?
Ellie
Dear Mr. Barnett,
I’m sorry. I fibbed when I wrote you. I mean the letter was a big fib, but I didn’t fib that Papa needs a wife and I like the pretty one. But I was wrong to break the commandment and I’m sorry.
Janey
P.S. My dad made me write this. I’m not that sorry because I like Miss Ellie.
Dear Janey,
It is very wrong to lie. God is truth, and He wants His children to tell the truth. But I’m glad you like Miss Ellie. Do you think your papa likes her too? I’ll count on you to keep me informed, all right?
Your friend,
Mr. Barnett
So Ellie did end up in Strawberry Point. Ginny pulled her cell phone from her purse and turned it over in her hand. If she had service she could open a browser, type in a query, and find out exactly where that was. In Alaska somewhere—or whatever this place was called before it became part of the United States. The Last Frontier, yes. The letters mentioned Juneau and traveling there by boat. Maybe it was somewhere near here.
Ginny let out a long sigh, imagining herself in Ellie’s situation. She felt out of place, and she still had a full suitcase and money in her bank account. With one phone call she could book a flight back to LA. How did that poor woman do it?
Ginny was picking up another letter, eager to discover how sweet Ellie handled everything, when she heard a stirring from the bedroom. Grandma Ethel was heading to the bathroom, perhaps?
As she rose to see if Grandma needed any help, a vehicle outside caught her eye. A white truck, extended cab, with a kayak in back, pulled in and parked next to her van—Bud’s van. Rain poured from the sky, but even through the raindrops, she could see who it was. Her heartbeat quickened, her knees softened, and in a strange way she felt herself relax. Seeing Brett was like seeing home after a long journey.
Chapter Seventeen
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Ginny set the letters aside, and all worries about Ellie and Clay dissipated at the sight of Brett’s handsome face. He jumped out of the truck, glanced at Bud’s van, then looked toward the cottage, concern evident in his gaze. Hurrying to the front porch, he pulled off his rain jacket and laid it over the back of the rocking chair. He opened the door and stepped into the house.
He froze when he saw her standing there in front of the couch.
“Ginny?” His voice caught in his throat, lips parted. Joy filled his eyes, then a tenderness that she wished she could bottle up and keep forever.
Why had she run? His love was evident in his gaze. It felt like it had been only two weeks rather than two years since she last saw him. And nothing in that time apart seemed half as important as being with him now.
“You’re here. How…how did you find me? How did you track down my grandma?”
Ginny toe-tapped as she resisted the urge to hurry toward him. Didn’t her heart know he was no longer hers? She cleared her throat. “It’s Gustavus. It wasn’t that hard.”
He laughed, his whole face brightening. “I suppose you’re right about that. Everyone knows Grandma—”
“And you.” Her chest felt so warm, so full, she was sure her feet would leave the ground. “You’re the talk of the town—if you can call this place a town.”
He ran a hand down the stubble on his face. “I wish I would have cleaned up first.”
“You look great.” She took a step forward. “It’s wonderful to see you.”
Should she give him a hug? Before she had to decide, he approached and wrapped his arms around her. The flannel of his shirt was soft against her cheek. His chest was warm. Brett smelled of the outdoors, of the land and sea and rain. She was afraid to wrap her arms around him. She thought of Danny. What would he think if he knew she’d come to see the man she once loved…the man she was realizing she still cared for? She gripped the sides of his shirt, holding tight.
“Wow. After all this time, here you are.” His voice was a husky whisper.
Tears sprang to her cheeks. Tears of joy? Tears of missing him—his smile? A bit of both.
Raindrops from his hair brushed her cheek. She pulled back slightly and wiped them away.
“Are you crying?” He gazed at her curiously, his hazel eyes wide.
“Not yet. It was the rain.” She pointed to his hair.
“Not yet?”
“I don’t know why I said that.” A quivering hand touched her lips. “I’m happy to see you. I came up here—hunted you down—because I need advice. There’s so much happening with my life, my music. I wanted to talk to someone who knew me.”
Brett nodded. He brushed the raindrops from his hair and smiled sadly. “I used to think I knew you better than anyone—and that you knew me—but it’s been two years, Ginny. Can you believe it’s been two years?”
Gazing up at him, Ginny felt her heart swell and grow. She’d forgotten how handsome he was. She placed a hand over her chest, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on—to never let go.
She blew out a sigh, telling herself that she wasn’t the same girl who’d driven away and that he had most likely changed too. They couldn’t just pick up where they’d left off.
A mixture of joy and confusion filled his gaze. “So what do you need to talk about? Are you all right? Nothing bad happened, did it? I hope not. I mean, it’s great to see you. In fact, I was just thinking about you. Wow.”
“I’m okay, I’m good.” Ginny smiled. She heard the shuffling of feet coming from the bedroom and remembered. “I’m okay, but yo
ur grandma, she…she had a—well, something happened with her heart. She’s resting—”
A crash sounded from the bedroom. Ginny jumped. Without hesitation, Brett rushed past her. “Grandma!” His voice echoed through the house. “Grandma, are you okay?”
They rushed into the room, and Ginny stopped in her tracks as she saw the old woman crumpled on the floor. Grandma Ethel’s face was distorted. Her eyes were wide, her lips pressed tightly shut. Ginny rushed to her side. Brett dropped to his knees beside her.
“Grandma? Grandma, are you okay?”
Her lips opened, and Ginny waited for the cry of pain to come. Instead, laughter spilled out.
“I—I—” The older woman patted her pale cheek and sucked in a deep breath. “This ol’ heart. Won’t let me get away with nothing.” She looked at Brett. “I heard you come home. Was trying to eavesdrop. Leaned too far near the open door and got light-headed.”
Ginny took Grandma Ethel’s hand. “Does anything hurt? Do you need me to go get Jared?”
“You know Jared?” Brett eyed Ginny. “How long have you been here? I’ve only been gone a week.”
“Two days. But I wasn’t here long when I had to go get him. Your grandma, she—”
Grandma Ethel waved a hand in the air. “I had an episode, that’s all. Not as bad as last time. I’m fine, fine.” She lifted her arms as if waiting for Brett to help her to her feet. He did, holding her, steadying her.
Ginny stepped closer. “You sure you don’t have a pain somewhere?” She tried to keep her tone light even though she was worried. “You didn’t break a hip, did you?”
“Nah, I held on to the nightstand as I was going down. I’m good as gold.” Grandma Ethel took tentative steps forward, and it was obvious she was still a little shaky. She walked to the living room, paused, and looked from Ginny to Brett and back to Ginny again.
“Of course, maybe I should have Ginny stay a little longer. It’s good to have someone around—another woman.” She reached out and patted Ginny’s arm. “I know you came to see Brett, my dear, but having you here has been a gift to me. Oh, what a gift.”
“I’m not sure if I can stay. I need to get back. There’s a record deal. And Danny said—” She glanced at Brett as she said Danny’s name and couldn’t help but notice the hurt in his gaze.
He turned his attention back to his grandmother. “If you need me to stay instead…”
“Ginny, dear.” Grandma Ethel paused and turned to her. “I know what you’re saying. But I also know you didn’t come all this way just to leave again. Give yourself a few days to connect with God. To talk to Brett. To finish the letters…” Her voice trailed off.
“The letters? Ellie’s letters?” Brett’s jaw dropped.
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh nothing…” He looked at his grandma, his brow furrowing. But the old woman paid him no mind and continued on toward the sofa.
When she sat, Brett turned to Ginny. He looked at the letters, then at Ginny, clearing his throat. “I know things didn’t work out with you wanting to surprise me and all.” He chuckled. “I mean, I was surprised, but…if I had known…” Brett leaned forward. “What I’m trying to say is, it sounds like my grandma would like you to stay. But even more than that, I would too.”
A flood of warmth grew in Ginny’s chest, spreading until it flowed to every part of her body. “Really?”
“Really. I would like that very much. In fact, I”—he looked at his grandmother and smiled, then back at Ginny—“I’ll have to tell you about why I stayed out longer.”
Ginny nodded, brushing her hair back over her shoulder.
“But later.” He rose and turned toward the front door. “Right now I’m going to grab my things and get a shower. If I wasn’t so happy to see you, I’d be embarrassed by how I look. Then again, who knew I’d need a shower and a shave when I left the wilderness today?”
She watched as he walked out and grabbed a backpack from the front seat of his truck. The rain had slowed some, and he was only slightly damp when he reentered.
Ginny approached him. She was unsure why, maybe to make it more real to her that he was really here, but she raised a hand and tousled his dark hair. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen your hair this long.”
His eyelids slid closed for a brief moment and then he leaned down, his mouth close to her ear. “You always told me to let it grow out. That you wanted to see my curls.”
“You did it for me? You still thought of me?” She didn’t move, didn’t put space between them, even though she knew she should.
Brett placed a hand on her shoulder, and only then did she dare lift her head to meet his gaze.
“Ginny, how could I ever forget?”
The phone rang, jarring Ginny back to reality.
“I’ll let the machine pick it up,” Grandma Ethel called. “Some timing this is….” she mumbled.
Ginny glanced toward the kitchen as the phone rang a second time and noticed her paper coffee cup sitting on the counter. She remembered Kelly, too, and the obvious affection in the woman’s eyes when she talked about Brett.
She offered him a sad smile. “You haven’t changed, you know that? You still say the sweetest things.”
“I’m not just saying that, Ginny.” He stroked her cheek.
“I know, and that’s what worries me. You’d better go shower…” She pinched her nose as if bothered by his odor and then shrugged, trying to pretend his words hadn’t buoyed her heart.
As he walked away, Ginny sighed. “I thought I knew why I came, Brett. But standing here, seeing you…I suddenly have no idea.”
Chapter Eighteen
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September 12, 1928
Dear Grandfather,
Since winter’s on its way, you won’t be receiving many letters from me, I’m afraid. The mail goes out very sparingly in the winter, but I’ll keep writing you anyway. It’ll be like the adventure stories I used to scribble when I was a kid, only this time, they will be true adventures! Plus, writing has always been a comfort in struggles. In this place, I guarantee I’ll need that comfort.
The trip over in the reverend’s fishing boat was the most harrowing experience of my life. Because of my little incident on the dock, we didn’t get out early enough and ended up facing the storm. The way the boat tipped and swayed, I actually fell into the water—plunged all the way under. If the reverend hadn’t pulled me back in—well, I don’t want to think about it. He’s a firm man, not gentle, kind, or compassionate, but I’m grateful he saved my life.
On the boat, I did not have a chance to talk much to the reverend or the boys—except when they hollered at me to do something. But one thing I learned: they had not been expecting me.
After we docked, we began our muddy, two-mile walk to their cabin. The rain had cleared, but the sky was still gloomy and foreboding as in a scary motion picture. The reverend and Joseph matched the murkiness with their own foul moods, but Linc smiled and chatted with me.
His sweet fourteen-year-old grin made the tightness in my shoulders relax. He told me about his ma and pa back on a ranch in California. His mother was Adelaide’s sister. When she died, Linc’s mother suggested he come on up to help with the children and chores. Linc was happy to come. His eyes lit up when he told me about his adventures since he arrived, and I spotted a sweet affection when he mentioned the little ones. He talked almost nonstop, in fact, but I welcomed his conversation—until Reverend Parrish asked him to be quiet. After that, we strode in awkward silence.
That was until I made my first blunder. Everything had suddenly grown even quieter. The reverend put a finger to his lips, but I had no idea why. Then he reached behind him and grabbed a rifle strapped to his back. Joseph did the same. My hands began to sweat. My chest tightened. Guns! I had never seen one up close before. Out of the bushes, an antler appeared. Then the whole moose clomped out with a little one next to it.
It was huge, and it stood so close to us! Plus, it
had startled me. So I screamed like a madwoman. The moose jerked its head and charged Joseph. Scared the dickens out of me. Joseph scrambled up a tree, and the reverend tried to shoot the moose, but she and her calf got away. I’m glad. You can’t shoot the mother and leave the little one alone.
The reverend was very unhappy with me. “You don’t scream when a man’s hunting. Could get a person killed.” He shook his head in disgust.
I wanted to sob, but I lifted my chin instead and told him that since I’m not accustomed to enormous moose, guns, or rude ministers, perhaps he could’ve warned me. I was rather proud of that retort.
His jaw clenched, but I could not tell if he was sorry or simply restraining himself from further hostility. That’s when the rain began to fall. He wrapped his coat around my shoulders, a thick, fur-lined one, then stomped ahead.
Poor Joseph’s face still looked pale as this paper when he got down from the tree. He eyed me with a look that said, “You don’t belong here,” before joining his father.
I thought the same thing, but I had to overcome the doubt for the sake of this family. I could already tell they needed me—especially Joseph. It was evident he’d been raised well. I could see he was loved, taught, and given attention. But his eyes betrayed a deep pain. It reminded me of my grief after Mama and Papa died.
“Ginny dear, I’m sorry to interrupt your reading, but I don’t want you to worry about dinner….” The voice filtered through her mind. Grandma Ethel was talking to her.
She blew out a breath, prying her eyes from the page. “Did you say something?” Her heart pattered like the rain on the roof. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until she lowered the paper, but if she was honest, she would admit that Ellie’s troubles contributed only a fraction to Ginny’s heightened emotions.
“It’s just that it’s dinnertime. I’ve hardly eaten a thing all day. I don’t want you to have to worry about cooking, so I was thinking of sending Brett for pizza at the Homeshore Café. The pizza there is truly delicious….”
Grandma continued talking, but Ginny’s mind stuck on Brett. The bathroom shower still ran, and the minutes seemed like hours as she waited to see him again, to be with him. Why had he seemed so concerned that she was reading Ellie’s letters? More than that, what would happen when the shock of seeing her wore off and the pain of what she’d done to him resurfaced?