Love Finds You in Glacier Bay, Alaska Page 4

Mitch set his chips down on the tabletop, wiped his hand on his pants, and extended a hand. “Ginny, I’d assume?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Brett told me about you, but that was before.”

  “Before?”

  “Before he came back to Glacier Bay. He hasn’t said much since then.”

  “Oh, I see.” She grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted it around her fingers. Then she leaned forward. “I came to talk to him. I should have called. I, uh, have some big life decisions to make and I thought he could help. But if he’s not going to be back for days, I should probably head back to LA.”

  “Brett is a good listener.” Mitch slowly ran his hands down the top of his jeans. “Isn’t he, Gran—”

  With a look of alarm on his face, he jumped up and rushed to the old woman standing by the sink. One of her hands was spread over her chest, and she struggled for breath.

  Ginny hurried over, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Are you okay? Come sit.” Together they guided Grandma to the couch.

  “Too much excitement, that’s all.” She offered a tired smile as she settled under her afghan. Ginny nestled next to her. “With you coming and the worries about Brett, it’s quite a lot for a woman whose biggest excitement of the day is finishing a Sudoku puzzle. I just—”

  A cat’s meow interrupted the woman’s words, and Mitch moved to the door to let in a black cat with short fur. It entered the house with the demeanor of a lion and glanced over at Ginny nonchalantly as if it had been expecting her.

  “Maybe you should head to bed, Grandma. Rest,” Mitch offered as he moseyed back to the kitchen. “I’m sure Ginny here would enjoy a quiet evening. Maybe get some reading done.”

  “Reading.” Grandma Ethel’s eyes brightened. “That’s it!” She turned to Ginny and took her two hands in her own. “Maybe you’re not only here to see Brett. Maybe you’re here for the letters too. Yes, that is the case. I have a feeling, dear, there’s something in them you need to understand. Something that will surprise you.” Grandma clapped her hands together. “Oh my, I believe that’s why Brett decided to stay out. God wooed him away for a reason. I’m sure of it.”

  Chapter Six

  .......................

  Before Ginny had even closed the bedroom door, she heard Grandma’s breathing drift to soft snoring. “Good night, Grandma,” she whispered. She plopped down on the old-fashioned floral couch and let out a breath. When I left LA this morning, I sure didn’t expect to be sleeping on an old woman’s sofa tonight.

  She leaned back and gazed out the broad windows at the bay spreading before her. The clouds moved imperceptibly, opening gaps for blue sky, revealing the jagged snow-capped peaks bordering Glacier Bay. She closed her eyes, questioning the longing this beauty raised in her. God, are You there?

  She hadn’t asked that in a while. It almost seemed easier not to think about Him, not to wonder if her schemes were in line with God’s plans.

  Ginny released the clip from her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders, and slipped off her shoes. Grandma’s cat immediately snuggled onto them.

  Those are three-hundred-dollar shoes, she thought, but then that didn’t seem to matter here. “Hi, kitty,” she said instead and scratched behind its ears. The charm on the cat’s collar read Midnight, and it purred as it rubbed against her legs. Beneath the coffee table, she spotted an old brown leather box. Lifting it to her lap, she opened it. On the inside lid was tacked a piece of thick, aged paper. On it was written “Our Story” in beautiful script. In the box were stacks of envelopes.

  Midnight hopped to her side and nudged her nose against the book’s cover.

  “Are these what Grandma wanted me to read?”

  The old woman had fallen asleep before she’d had time to explain what she’d meant about Ginny reading some letters. Ginny picked up the first one and moved her fingers over the aged paper and the indentations of the cursive writing. The return address read,

  Ellie McKinley

  1417 Baker Street

  San Francisco, California 91002

  Ginny imagined Ellie sitting at a glorious writing desk doing her “correspondence.” Like Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice. That was her favorite movie, one she’d watched with her last foster mom, Robyn, time and time again.

  The letter was addressed to a Peter Barnett on Division Street, San Francisco.

  “Hmm…a friend?” she spoke aloud, scratching Midnight’s head. “Brother? Well, before we find out, I need background music and a cup of tea to set the mood.”

  She dropped the paper on the table and stood, but then she noticed the letter had shifted out of the envelope. The first words read:

  May 2, 1928

  Dear Grandfather,

  I have the most joyous news. James Standard and I are engaged to be married! My wonderful beau proposed to me yesterday. After our sad misfortune, I am the happiest girl in all the world.

  An aching lump filled Ginny’s gut. “A love story?” She shoved the letter back into its envelope. “Sorry, Grandma. I don’t think my heart can handle this tonight.”

  She flipped on her iPod and moved to the kitchen. The scent of fried eggs and coffee—most likely from the morning’s breakfast—wafted to her as she filled the metal teakettle and placed it on the burner. Tacked to the side of the fridge was an old photo of a bride and groom gazing at each other in a sickening display of love. It’s everywhere. She grabbed the photo and set it on top of the fridge where she couldn’t see it.

  From Ginny’s iPod came the lyrics of a love song, something about being unable to fight love. Ginny hadn’t remembered the lyrics and didn’t need them mocking her now. She flipped it off. There couldn’t ever be anyone like Brett, and maybe she liked things that way.

  The ache in her stomach churned like the waves lapping the bay outside the window. It seemed so empty at this moment. No sea animals played on the surface, but she knew life pulsed underneath the whitecaps. A whole unseen world.

  Could she allow herself to venture beneath the surface of her own heart? All the pain of her childhood, the loss of her beloved foster parents, her choice to push Brett away…

  After her success in LA she’d never regretted driving away that day, at least not consciously. But at this moment, in his grandma’s kitchen, she longed for something the music world couldn’t give her.

  She shook her head, casting away the thoughts. The teakettle whistled. As she poured hot water into a moose-decorated mug, she remembered the verse on a little plaque next to Grandma’s bed: For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock. Psalm 27:5.

  The raspberry-flavored tea stained the steaming water dark pink, and Ginny tentatively caved in to the sofa. Maybe a love story will be a good distraction after all. Better than being alone with my thoughts. Midnight snuggled into her lap as she pulled the letter from the envelope and continued to read.

  It was a simple proposal, delivered at the Davises’ kitchen table. The servants had left; even Cook was taking advantage of the warm afternoon to tend her garden. With little Mercy and Ricky napping, James took advantage of the opportunity! He held my hand. “I love you, Elizabeth Sue McKinley.”

  How I remember the days when James and I played from morning till suppertime. Even after bedtime, we’d light candles in our windows. If we worked it just right, we could spy each other’s faces in the candlelight.

  Did you know of this? Don’t scold. We were best of friends then. And later, of course, we fell in love.

  As for Mrs. Standard, I know you do not care for her, but she was always kind to me in her way. You must admit she taught me things—things about being a lady—that I would not have learned elsewhere, at least since my own dear mama’s passing. James assures me his mother will come around.

  All this to say, I cannot wait to receive your congratulations in person. Early next week, I’ll make my
way to your lovely flat on the ocean. We’ll drink tea and eat those scones you love.

  My dear grandfather, what a joy you are to me. With James and you in my life, I can honestly say I have found true happiness.

  Your Ellie Bell (Never stop calling me that. Promise?)

  “I have found true happiness.” Ginny rolled her eyes as she spoke the words. “Is there such a thing?”

  She placed the letter at the bottom of the stack, then noticed a newspaper article folded atop the next letter. It was dated July 1, 1927, almost a year earlier than Ellie’s letter. The old type of the headline read: OIL TYCOON PETER BARNETT LOSES ALL IN REAL ESTATE DEAL GONE BAD.

  “So that must be the ‘sad misfortune’ Ellie was talking about.” The article went on to describe Mr. Barnett:

  Throughout the course of his life, Mr. Barnett, who is now sixty-six, donated most of his great wealth to charitable causes. Even so, his skilled investments kept him and his only dependent, one Miss Elizabeth McKinley, quite comfortable—until last winter, when Mr. Barnett invested a great amount in the real estate firm belonging to his late niece’s husband, Mr. Felix Cooney. The investment proved to be a poor one when Mr. Cooney was suspected of conducting an illegal property transaction. All moneys were seized by the Internal Revenue Service. No plans are being made to charge Mr. Barnett. Investigators refused to comment on Mr. Cooney’s legal standing at this time.

  Ginny frowned. So sad to lose everything, she thought. At least he had his granddaughter. The last lines of the article quoted the older man:

  “This earthly loss will only work in the Lord’s hands for my good. I am happy to do whatever my heavenly Father desires.”

  I count all things but loss…. A verse from Sunday school came to Ginny’s mind. She’d attended Sunday school off and on as a child, depending on whom she lived with. The verse brought a measure of comfort, but knowing it wouldn’t last, she shoved the feeling below the surface and sipped her tea.

  The next piece of paper Ginny picked up was a newspaper clipping from The Daily Alaskan Empire. The headline read: MISSIONARY WOMAN LOST TO INFLUENZA IN STRAWBERRY POINT. MANY TLINGITS ALSO SICK. QUARANTINE IN EFFECT.

  Underneath it was a letter in masculine script.

  Sept. 17, 1927

  Dear Brother Peter,

  A letter has been sent to the missions board. Mail’s slow here, as I expect you know. A few weeks back we had an influenza outbreak.

  My precious wife was taken.

  I don’t know a better woman than Adelaide. She bore up under the Alaska bush, as I knew she would, with a heaping supply of determination. That woman feared nothing. Even shot a wolf one night.

  My children—they’re taking it hard. Linc, my fourteen-year-old nephew, has come to help. Don’t know what good he is, but he tries. My sixteen-year-old son, Joseph, does what he can, but his heart’s breaking too. In fact, I worry about him the most.

  Pray for the little ones—Janey (although she doesn’t think she’s so little, nine’s not grown by a long spell), Zach, and baby Penny. As heartbroken as we all are, we know our calling is here, and our Rock is the Lord.

  Clay Parrish

  Chapter Seven

  .......................

  Ginny folded the letter and set it aside. Her heart ached. First for the Parrish children, who lost their mother, and also for this woman, Ellie, who struggled with her mother’s passing. Ginny knew the hole both these families felt, knew how children without mothers never feel complete. How they struggle to feel the basic love only a mother can give. She couldn’t remember a time when that emptiness wasn’t in her own heart.

  Ginny sipped the tea, now cold. How sad that this missionary, Clay Parrish, had come all the way out to Alaska only to lose his wife. Why would God allow something like that? What a life for a woman. She wondered what Grandma Ethel’s life had been like when she was young, living in Alaska. Brett had told Ginny that the first settlers had come to Glacier Bay in 1914. If it was this primitive now, what would it have been like back then?

  Also, where was Strawberry Point? Somewhere near Gustavus? Could the people in the letters be somehow related to Grandma Ethel? That would be cool.

  Ginny flipped through the letters again. At least James stayed around for Ellie—that must be the love Grandma Ethel was talking about.

  Love to stir my own romantic thoughts, no less.

  Speaking of which…she’d promised Danny she’d call when she arrived. How could she have forgotten? She rushed to her purse and pulled out her cell phone. It was nearly dead, but she should be able to make a short call. Then she noticed the reception. There was none.

  None.

  Ginny blinked three times. Where am I?

  Tomorrow she’d ask Grandma about a cell tower. Surely there had to be one. As a last resort she pulled out her laptop and checked for a wireless network. She wasn’t surprised when she didn’t pick anything up.

  She thought about using Grandma Ethel’s wall phone but changed her mind. Just because the sweet old woman welcomed her in didn’t mean she could take over the house.

  Ginny glanced over at the bedroom door and sent up a quick prayer that Grandma Ethel would feel better tomorrow. She hoped it was the excitement of the day that had gotten to her and nothing more serious.

  Had Brett’s grandma assumed Ginny was here to make up with Brett, rekindle things? Guilt over getting the old woman’s hopes up trickled like rivulets down Ginny’s back and neck, but she ignored it. She’d gotten used to ignoring such things.

  Ginny couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things went wrong between her and Brett. A growing numbness about the dreams she and Brett had made had collided with a growing excitement about her rising fame. It had been easy to follow the praise, the comfort, the money. Yet why did she feel emptier today than she had in a long time?

  Ginny shook her head and turned her attention back to the letters. She picked up the next in the pile, one with no address, just the words “To James, from Ellie.” Most likely some kind of love letter.

  Ginny wondered how Ellie delivered it. The two soul mates probably had a secret place where they left letters for the other to find. How romantic. She wrinkled her nose and removed the note from the envelope, disappointed to find only one line written in dark, black ink.

  James—Grandfather has suffered a stroke. I will not see you tonight. Please pray!

  Ginny stared at the paper as it ruffled in the breeze, but when she looked around, she realized there was no movement of air, no window that had been left open. Rather, her own hands were trembling.

  Life wasn’t fair. Growing up in foster care wasn’t fair. Losing the only true family she’d ever had…

  “Have you heard about Ginny?” people had whispered. “How sad.”

  A lump grew in her throat, and she snuggled into the couch on her side. She remembered the moment when she decided to focus more on people’s praise than their pity. She had been in college, and a few of her friends had talked her into singing a solo for their Uganda mission trip fundraiser. Though music had always been special to her, she’d never really shared it with others. But that night, as she poured out her heart, performing for the first time a song she had written herself, the awe of the crowd fueled her. They’d jumped to their feet in a standing ovation and wouldn’t sit until she agreed to sing another song.

  Ginny closed her eyes. Everything changed that night with her music. It was also the night she met Brett.

  She wondered if what Mitch had said was true—that Brett still thought of her, just as she thought of him. Wondered if their story was written on his heart, just as James and Ellie’s story was written in those letters.

  Ginny yawned and rubbed her eyes. She needed some rest. She’d have to get up early and figure out how to return to LA. It was the only obvious choice. She couldn’t sit around Grandma Ethel’s house for three more days waiting for Brett to return—not when Danny was chomping at the bit to get going on her new contract.

 
; She glanced over at her paisley computer bag. Should she pull out the paperwork he’d sent with her and look over the legalities? No, she’d rather read another letter from Ellie. But even as she pulled out a slip of thin, discolored paper, she wondered if all this was a sign—Brett being away, these letters from a woman in the distant past. Maybe it was a sign to tell her the last page was closed with Brett and she should focus on what lay ahead. Things could be worse… like they were for Ellie. Maybe she should cling to what was right and good in her life.

  With another yawn, she glanced down at the script.

  Let’s hope for a happy ending…whatever that means.

  Park Emergency Hospital

  May 21, 1928

  Dear Miss McKinley,

  We have been informed by one Mr. Felix Cooney that your grandfather is unable to pay his medical bills. Mr. Cooney has offered to pay the first bill, but since you are legally the next of kin, we must obtain your written permission. Please come to the hospital’s billing office to fill out the necessary paperwork.

  All bills must be paid in a timely manner in order for the patient to remain under the care of Park Emergency Hospital.

  Sincerely,

  Robert H. Longman

  Collections Facilitator

  Ginny swallowed hard, feeling like she was reading news about one of her own friends rather than a stranger who lived nearly a century ago. How in the world would Ellie pay for her grandfather’s medical bills now that they’d lost everything? Ginny balled her fists at the thought of Felix. Of course he’d help…and where would that leave Ellie? Dependent on him, on his mercies. A thousand ants crawled up her spine, remembering the shame of being so helpless, so dependent. At least Ellie had James. He would help her.

  Next was a letter with no address that read “To Ellie.” A man’s handwriting. Must be from James. Ginny blew out a slow, even breath. She had a feeling deep down that James wouldn’t disappoint.

  May 21, 1928

  Dear Ellie,