Elizabeth nodded, clutching his arm. “Yes.” She managed to choke out the single word.
He jumped to his feet and folded her in his arms.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, content to be crushed in his embrace, aware only of the sound of his heartbeat against her ear. “I cannot take it all in.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I feel like I’ve won my first election.”
“Perhaps your last, as well, if you’re adding me to the ticket.” She lifted her face to meet his lips, pushing closer to him with every breath. “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”
Charles rubbed his cheek against her brow before answering. “I don’t think you’ll have to. Kum Yong and some of the girls are in the kitchen. Robert and Abby are in the other room.”
“What?” She wriggled from his grasp.
“They promised to wait, but Abby has peeked in a few times. Ruby wished to come, but Gerald talked her out of it, what with the quarantine.” He grinned. “Kiss me once more before we go greet them. I’m not ready to share this joy quite yet. I want you all to myself.”
She stepped close, brushing her lips against his cheek and then his mouth. “I can’t tell you how good it is to hear you say those words.”
“Not as good as it was to hear you say yes. You had me worried for a moment.”
“You must have been confident if you brought my family. What would you have done if I’d said no?”
“The press will find immense gratification with my uncle’s trial—don’t you think I can handle one more humiliation?”
She wove her hand through his. “Trust me, I know a few things about humiliation. I’ll stand by you every step of the trial.”
“And when it’s done, we’ll live out our shameful lives together. Shall we?”
“No.” She traced a finger over his lips. “We’ll live our grace-filled lives together.”
33
October 15, 1909
The fall sunshine poured through the high windows of the Conservatory of Flowers, glinting off the gold designs on Elizabeth’s dress. She ran a trembling fingertip across the embroidered phoenix. “I can’t believe they did this for me.” The words caught in her throat. “It must have taken them months.”
“Your students adore you. This is their way of showing their devotion.” Ruby fastened the delicate braided loops. “It’s quite an unusual color for a wedding dress, though.”
Abby slipped an arm around Elizabeth’s waist. “Kum Yong insisted red is lucky for brides.”
“Then we’ll need to make one for her soon.” Elizabeth slid her feet into the matching slippers. “George waited long enough to court her. I don’t think he’ll waste much time before proposing.”
The sounds from the gathering crowd filtered into the room. Abby peeked outside. “So many people.”
A quiver traveled through Elizabeth’s stomach. “We wanted a simple family wedding, but with all of my students, the Chinese community, and Charles’s campaign supporters—the invitation list got a bit out of hand. Thankfully, it’s a big lawn.”
“Charles has done well for himself.” Ruby reached for the bouquet of white roses. “Considering how the trial was splashed through the newspapers, his political success is quite a testimony to his character.”
Abby nodded. “After everything the city has endured, people are ready for leaders they can trust. He’s demonstrated great integrity.”
Ruby sighed as she passed Elizabeth the flowers. “You couldn’t be any more beautiful today, little sister. He’s a fortunate man.”
Elizabeth blinked back tears. She didn’t want her eyes to match the gown. “I’m the fortunate one. I never thought this could happen after he learned the truth.”
Her sister squeezed her hand. “The truth is you’re a blessed child of God. So is he. Don’t ever forget that.”
The sound of a fussy baby caught their attention. A quick knock followed.
Abby smiled. “Speaking of blessed children . . .”
“Is everyone dressed?” Gerald’s voice carried through the closed door. “Someone says Papa just won’t do right now.”
Ruby pulled it open. “Then Mama will come to the rescue.”
Gerald stepped inside, passing little Mildred Mae to Ruby. His eyes rounded at the sight of Elizabeth. “You’re lovely, Elizabeth. Will you be ready soon? Your groom is looking a bit green about the gills.”
“As did you, on our big day.” Ruby tucked a hand under his elbow as she rocked the baby.
“True.” He squeezed her against his side. “Charles told me to warn everyone, there is a society reporter here from The Call.”
Abby pursed her lips. “I hope they focus on the wedding. They’ve wasted enough newsprint on the trial already.”
Elizabeth pressed the roses to her chest. “I’m just relieved the sentencing phase is complete. Now we can move on.”
“Five years in San Quentin doesn’t seem like enough, considering all Silas McKinley took from you.” Abby fingered her gold locket.
“He took nothing of lasting value. God gave us so much in exchange. If it weren’t for my father’s estate, would Charles and I ever have met?”
Gerald nodded. “Like it says in the Book of Romans, ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ ”
Ruby nuzzled Mildred’s pink cheeks. “Look at all of us. It’s humbling to think what we’ve been through—earthquake, fires, sickness, and now trials. It’s time we put those things behind us and enjoy these precious blessings He’s provided.”
Elizabeth moved toward the door. “He’s brought me through the shadows and into the light. I’ll be forever grateful.” She turned and faced her family. “I’m ready.”
The green grass was soft under her feet as she walked to the large white tent. Her gaze swept past the seated guests until it settled on the man waiting near the front.
His smile set her heart ablaze. Thank You, Lord. I didn’t deserve this, but You made it happen anyway. She stepped forward, eager to stand at his side and to begin their new life together.
The San Francisco Call
October 1909
McKinley-King Society Wedding
San Francisco, October 15
The long-awaited wedding of Charles L. McKinley and Miss Elizabeth King took place Friday at the Conservatory of Flowers in Golden Gate Park. Mr. McKinley is an attorney with the San Francisco firm of McClintock and Spencer, located on Market Street.
Readers may recall the young couple as the subject of a variety of stories in The Call during the past several months. Mr. McKinley recently testified in the prosecution of his uncle, prominent San Francisco attorney, Silas McKinley. The younger McKinley is considered a strong candidate for next month’s city council elections, despite his unfortunate family connections.
The blushing bride, Miss Elizabeth King, teaches sewing and music at the Presbyterian Mission Home for Girls, located at 920 Sacramento. According to the home’s director, Miss Donaldina Cameron, the soon-to-be Mrs. McKinley plans to continue teaching for the foreseeable future.
Reporter Lydia Harrell informs us that the bride was resplendent in an unusual, but breathtaking, red Oriental silk gown designed and sewed by her Chinese students.
The happy couple will make their home, at least temporarily, at a luxurious residence previously owned by an unnamed member of the groom’s family and located on Van Ness Avenue.
Historical Note
Most of the characters mentioned in Through the Shadows are fictional, with a few brief references to some well-known San Francisco historical figures: Mayor Eugene Schmitz, attorney Abe Ruef, and Governor James Gillett.
The missionary Donaldina Cameron was also a real person. Miss Cameron dedicated her life to serving at the Presbyterian Mission, rescuing as many as three thousand Chinese and Japanese women and girls. Now called Cameron House in her honor, the building located at 920 Sacramento Street sti
ll serves the local community. I simplified the workings of the Mission for the sake of story, so I encourage you to spend time reading more about this wonderful woman and those who worked alongside her.
You can learn more at www.cameronhouse.org/aboutus/history .html.
Group Discussion Questions
1. The hymn “Amazing Grace” helped open Elizabeth’s eyes to the meaning of grace. Which hymns or worship songs have caused you to view God in a new light?
2. When Elizabeth first hears missionary Donaldina Cameron speak, she senses God calling her into ministry. Have you ever felt like God was calling you to do something? How did you respond?
3. Elizabeth takes great comfort in the love of her family, especially her sister Ruby. Who do you turn to when you need a listening ear?
4. Donaldina says, “The deeper you involve yourself in His work, the more you’re aware of the actions of His hands.” Have you seen signs of God’s fingerprints on your life? In what ways?
5. Both main characters in Through the Shadows receive gifts they think they don’t deserve. Elizabeth learns about grace, and Charles is given preferential treatment because of his family connections. Have you ever received something you didn’t believe you deserved (good or bad)? How did it make you feel?
6. As Christians, we frequently talk about God’s gift of grace, but we often cling to a long list of activities that make us appear “good.” Do you ever find yourself still trying to work your way into God’s good graces instead of feeling secure in His grace?
7. Robert King’s bias against the Chinese in San Francisco was very commonplace among the people of his time. Unfortunately, prejudice and intolerance are still issues today. What can we do as Christians to battle this in ourselves and in our culture? How did Abby persuade Robert to reconsider his position?
8. Charles and Elizabeth are drawn together by a common interest in politics and helping the disadvantaged. If you are married or in a relationship, what interests do you hold in common? If you are single, what interests do you hope a potential mate might share?
9. It is estimated that Donaldina Cameron and her predecessor, Margaret Culbertson, rescued over three thousand Chinese and Japanese girls and women from lives of slavery and prostitution. According to the U.S. Department of Justice, as many as three hundred thousand children are at risk for sexual exploitation in the United States each year. How has sex trafficking changed in today’s world? What has stayed the same?
10. Political corruption was rampant in 1908 San Francisco, and it’s still common today. Do you think it’s possible to gain political power without compromising one’s beliefs? If you were counseling Charles on his future, how would you recommend he stay on the straight and narrow?
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We hope you’ve enjoyed this third book in Karen Barnett’s Golden Gate Chronicles. If you missed the first book in the series, Out of the Ruins, please enjoy this sample.
1
San Jose, California
August 16, 1905
The doctor could be wrong.” Abby’s words cut through the suffocating silence in the bedroom. She placed her fingers on the sun-warmed windowsill, but it did little to thaw the chill gripping her heart.
Cecelia’s voice barely stirred the air. “He’s not.”
Abby glanced down at the novel she’d been reading, her thumb holding a place between the pages. If only she could stick her thumb on this day and prevent life from moving forward. When had time become the enemy?
She rose from the window seat and paced back to the wooden chair pulled close to her sister’s bedside. The faded rosebud quilt covered Cecelia’s body like a shroud. Abby kept her voice crisp and no-nonsense. “Papa telephoned Cousin Gerald last night. Gerald thinks there might be doctors in San Francisco who could actually do something, despite what Dr. Greene says.”
Cecelia opened her eyes, the flash of blue seeming out of place in her otherwise colorless face. Her unbound hair—once like so many strands of golden silk—now covered the white pillowcase, tangled and matted.
Abby fingered her own brown braid. She hadn’t even bothered to pin it up this morning. “I’m not giving up, and neither should you.”
Cecelia’s eyes closed again, dark circles framing their sunken depths. “I’m too tired. If God’s calling, I’m ready to go home.”
Abby thumped the novel down on the bedside table. “Stop saying that. I’m not going to let you die and leave me here alone.”
Her sister shifted under the covers, as if the very weight of the quilt caused her pain. “You’re—” she stopped for a breath, “not alone.”
The deluge of fear returned, sweeping over Abby like waves across the shore. Who would she be without Cecelia?
She returned to the window, staring at the summer sky strewn with a few lacelike clouds. Back when they were children, Papa always called Cecelia his “sky-girl” because of her blue eyes and her grace. And a sky-girl she remained, even as they aged. Until this illness, Cecelia had moved with charm and style, bringing light to a room simply by entering. Young men flocked to her side, anxious to spend a moment captivated by her beauty and her gift for conversation.
Abby, a year younger—nineteen to Cecelia’s twenty—had none of her sister’s poise. Instead, she took turns stumbling over her tongue and her feet. And with her brown hair and eyes, and those incessant freckles, the only thing she ever attracted were mosquitoes on a warm summer evening. If Cecelia was the sky, Abby was the earth.
So while Cecelia danced at the parties, Abby strolled in the family orchard, content to talk to the peach trees. There she could speak her mind without worrying about social graces.
But if Cecelia left her . . .
“Abby—” Cecelia broke off with a weak cough.
Abby crossed the room in a heartbeat. “What is it? What do you need?”
Her sister lay silent for a long moment, staring up at her. Finally, after a labored breath she pushed the words out. “Have you prayed?”
“What?” Abby sank down into the high-backed chair where she had spent so many hours. “Cecelia . . .” Her voice faltered.
Cecelia sighed, her eyelids closing. “I thought maybe you would make an exception . . . for me.”
Abby’s heart sank down into her stomach. Her sister never did play fair.
“Just talk to Him. It’s all I ask.”
Fidgeting, Abby twisted the hem of her apron. Her sister’s ragged breathing snatched at her heart. Abby squeezed the fabric into a ball. “Fine. I will.”
The corners of Cecelia’s mouth turned upward with a meager hint of a smile. “God will answer.” She stirred under the covers once more. “You’ll see.”
When her sister’s breathing finally evened into sleep, Abby reached over and smoothed the quilt. As she gazed at Cecelia’s chalk-white face, Abby’s throat clenched. The doctor’s words chanted in her mind like a group of bullies in a schoolyard.
She tiptoed to the doorway. Catching a quick glimpse in the looking glass, Abby frowned at her unkempt hair and wrinkled dress. Turning away, she continued down the hall, pausing to glance into the nursery where her brother napped. The sight of his flushed cheeks brought a different kind of ache to her heart. No one but four-year-old Davy slept well these days.
She stole down the stairs and out through the kitchen, hearing her parents’ hushed voices in the family room. They must be discussing the doctor’s announcement, even though he’d left no room for debate.
Pushing open the back door, Abby escaped into the fresh air, unta
inted by sickness and the decaying scent of fading hope. She trudged through the pasture and up the hillside toward the orchard, dragging the weight of her family’s problems with her. By the time she reached the edge of the trees, beyond sight of the house, the heaviness lessened and she picked up her skirts and fled.
As she charged into the orchard, Abby’s throat ached with words held captive. First Dr. Greene discounts Cecelia’s symptoms, now he has the audacity to say we should prepare for the worst?
Abby curled her fingers around the branch of a large cherry tree, placed a foot against the trunk, and hoisted herself upward into its leafy heights. Seeking to lose herself in the greenery, she climbed until her rust-colored skirt wedged between two branches. Holding on with one hand, Abby yanked the fabric loose with the other. Several years had passed since she had climbed one of these trees, and her arms and legs trembled with the effort. My skirts were shorter back then, and I never cared about soiling them. A grown woman doesn’t climb trees.
Unless her sister is dying.
When a bough bent under her shoes, she halted. Wrapping one arm around the trunk, Abby laid her head against the tree. She slapped the palm of her hand against the bark until her skin stung.
Cecelia’s request echoed. “Just talk to Him. It’s all I ask.”
Abby sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. Maybe prayer came easily to some people, but to her, God seemed too far away and indifferent. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “God, save her. I’ll do anything—anything you want.”
The words sounded foolish, like a child wishing on a star. Abby forced herself to continue. “She believes You love us. If it’s true, then it makes sense You should heal her whether or not I ask. You know Mama and Papa couldn’t bear to live without her. And Davy—” her breath caught in her throat as she thought about her baby brother.
Straddling a branch, Abby rested her back against the tree’s strength and let her legs dangle. “The doctor says there’s nothing more he can do.” Abby paused, letting the thought soak in. “So, I guess it’s up to You to take the cancer away.”
Through the Shadows Page 30