by Tricia Goyer
“A while ago I, uh, promised a friend I’d visit Alaska. I need some fresh air. Time to breathe.”
Danny’s gaze narrowed. “Are you serious?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“But I booked the studio for next week.” His words came out forced, tight. “Do you know how hard it is to get a slot on such short notice? Publicity photos are scheduled for tomorrow, and a press release is prepped to go out. Ginny, this isn’t your college choir. It’s the real thing, babe.”
“I know.” She pressed her fingertips to her temple. “It’s what I’ve always wanted—what you’ve been working so hard for, but if I sign this, I’ll belong to them—to the studio.”
And to you…
“And there’s a problem?” His words were harsher now.
“I want to be a hit, to share my music. But first…I need space to think. And I need some closure in my old life.” She leaned forward, placing her hand back in his. “Can you give me a week? One week?”
Danny’s smile returned, but a wall now stood behind his gaze.
“Of course.” His voice softened to a purr. He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips. “Everything is happening fast. But take this contract. Look it over. Dream.”
“Thank you.” The words made barely a sound as they escaped her lips.
“And this.” Danny stood, took the necklace from the box, and walked behind her chair.
Ginny pulled her wrap higher around her shoulders. Before she could protest, Danny brushed her hair aside and draped the necklace around her neck. It lay cool against her skin.
Danny cleared his throat. “This is to remind you what’s waiting here for you. Who’s waiting.”
Chapter Two
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Ginny walked down the departure steps of the commercial airplane and paused on the bottom metal step, peering out at the tarmac. She cocked an eyebrow as she glanced at the small building in front of her. It looked like a gas station without the pumps. Bicycles were lined up by the back door. Could this be the right airport? Surely it wasn’t.
“Miss?” A man behind her cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, sir.” She cleared the last step and then moved to the side. A man in khakis and a faded blue knit sweater slung a gray duffel over his shoulder as he followed her gaze.
“I think I got off at the wrong stop,” she muttered, glancing back up the steps and waving a hand to get the attention of the stewardess. “I’m going to Juneau. That’s where I transfer.”
“This is Juneau, miss.” A businessman exited next, pointing. It was only then Ginny noticed the painted sign. Welcome to Juneau, Alaska.
“But it’s the capital city….” she said to no one in particular. “It looks more like a pit stop on the way to the North Pole.”
“A pit stop?” The man in the sweater chuckled as he stepped away. “It’s the most civilized place you’ll see for hundreds of miles. Welcome to Alaska.”
“Uh, thanks.” The uncertainty that had trailed her all the way from LA now nipped at her heels. No time to worry about that now. She had only thirty minutes to get to her next plane.
She hurried into the building, carrying her guitar case in one hand and her laptop bag in the other. Inside she looked around for an airport terminal map but discovered it wasn’t needed. There was no way she’d get lost. She had friends with closets bigger than this place.
Two rows of plastic chairs and three vending machines welcomed her. Just ahead a young woman who looked as if she was still in high school waved.
“You Virginia?”
Ginny looked over her shoulder, but only the businessman stood behind her.
When she turned back, the young woman waved her forward. “Virginia Marshall, right? You’re heading to Glacier Bay?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, how did you know?” Ginny brushed a strand of long blond hair over her shoulder. “Did you see me on the Today show?”
Laughter spilled from the woman’s mouth. “That’s a good one. I’ve never heard that one before.”
Ginny’s smile dropped. Out of habit she peered around, scanning the area for paparazzi. When she was with Danny, she couldn’t go anywhere without being photographed. Here, no one glanced her direction, let alone pointed a camera at her.
“To answer your question, you’re the only female of the right age coming in from Seattle,” the woman said. “And if you’re looking for Fjord Air, we’re right here.” The agent patted the counter behind her. “I’ll need to see your ID and weigh your things.” She reached for the guitar.
Ginny’s fingers tightened around the handle of her guitar case. “Oh, this isn’t going into cargo.”
An older man strode over from the vending machine wearing a khaki shirt and grease-stained jeans. “It’ll be tucked away behind my cargo net. It’s a small plane, you see.” The man, whom she now realized was the pilot, winked. “I promise to keep it safe.”
The pilot looked like Clint Eastwood in his younger years but walked with the swagger of John Wayne. A pain pinched Ginny’s heart when she thought of the afternoons she’d spent shoulder-to-shoulder with her last foster dad, Dale, watching old Westerns. Not that the movies were that great. It was the closeness with her soon-to-be forever dad that she’d enjoyed the most. Something she’d never before felt.
“It’s a small plane, but it gets the job done,” the man continued.
Ginny turned her attention to the tarmac.
A small plane? That was an understatement. Except for the wings, the airplane was about the same size as her neighbor’s Cadillac. “That? That’s our plane?” she gasped. “How many people does that thing hold?”
“Ten…depending on how heavy everyone is.” The wiry man wrinkled his forehead. “Just so you won’t be surprised, she’s going to ask for your weight next.”
Ginny glanced at the counter agent, sure they were joking. That tin box couldn’t be their plane. It looked like something that would take outfitters into the Alaskan tundra. Knots tightened in her stomach. Where am I? What have I done?
And was he serious about needing her weight? Numb, she leaned close and spoke so only the young woman would hear. Then she handed over her guitar and computer case and hurried to one of the plastic chairs. Her knees trembled as she sat, and the logical side of her brain begged her to march over to the larger Alaska Airlines ticket counter, buy a ticket back to LA, and start her future with both FLT Records and Danny. How could she even think of turning her back on something as wonderful as that?
She adjusted the collar on her shirt, then ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it over her shoulder, braiding it with quick motions. She hadn’t heard from Brett in almost two years. The last time she saw him was in her rearview mirror as she drove away with all the things from her apartment, including a box of unsent wedding invitations.
On the drive to LA, she’d thought about her favorite movie growing up, The Parent Trap 2. Just when she’d thought there was no hope for the mom and dad in the movie to get together, and dreaded that Hallie and Annie would be living apart once again, Dad and Annie took a super-fast plane and beat the others back to London. The perfect ending.
On the drive to LA, Ginny had been sure Brett was going to do that. That he’d find a way to get there before she did and be waiting for her at the studio.
But she’d been wrong. Life would never be like the movies. Happily-ever-after didn’t just happen. One had to work for it, strive for it, lest everything worth living for be snatched away.
After moving into her new apartment in Brentwood, she learned from a mutual friend that Brett hadn’t lasted two days in Newport without her. He’d sold most of his things and headed back to Alaska. He never did come for her, and now…now she was the one pursuing him.
I’m a fool.
Yet her feet wouldn’t move. She couldn’t turn back now. She’d come this far. Something inside told her she had to look into Brett’s face. She needed to talk to s
omeone who knew her—really knew her—and ask if signing this contract was the right thing. She had no hopes their romance would be rekindled. It was too much to ask. Besides, she had Danny.
“Miss?”
Ginny glanced up.
The pilot pointed to the plane. “Ready for the ride?”
“Yes.” She rose and followed him. Four others followed too, chatting easily among themselves.
“It’s a beautiful day. There isn’t a cloud in the sky,” the pilot said as they exited. “That’s an unusual thing in these parts. I even saw some orcas in the bay when I was flying in.”
“Whales?” Her eyes widened.
The man nodded and led the way. Others were already climbing the five steps into the plane. She followed them, sat, and buckled her seat belt. When she was settled in and the side door was closed, the pilot turned in his seat, looking back at them. He launched into the safety speech, pointing out the life jackets, exits, and fire extinguisher.
“This your first time to Glacier Bay?” a woman who looked to be about Ginny’s age asked. Her hair was long, like Ginny’s, and braided down her back in a silky black braid.
“Yes, can you tell?”
“Well, since there are only about four hundred people in Gustavus, new folks sort of stick out. But it’s a beautiful flight. We fly right through two mountain passes. I’m Karen, by the way.”
Before Ginny had a chance to introduce herself, the plane started up with a shudder and a roar. They lifted off the ground. Bubbles bounced in Ginny’s stomach, and she couldn’t help but smile as the plane glided over a large bay. Huge houses lined the shore. If Danny were to see this, he’d already be on his phone talking to a Realtor and asking for showings. Danny collected houses like most people purchased shoes.
She pulled her camera out of her jacket pocket and couldn’t snap photos quickly enough. The ocean stretched in all directions. Mountain peaks—bright green with pine trees—jutted into the blue sky. Like a small bumblebee passing between two green-horned rhinos, the plane buzzed between the peaks.
The man ahead of her pivoted in his seat. “Over there is where Alaska flight 1866 crashed in 1971.”
“Did anyone get hurt?”
“All 111 people on board were killed. It’s something folks around here won’t forget.”
She brought her fingers to her lips and leaned closer to the window to view the spot. It looked lush and green like the rest of the hillside. Not one scar gave evidence of the tragedy.
“That’s unbelievable. So sad.” She tried to think of the families of those lost, but even the sadness of the news couldn’t quell her mood. There was a big difference between hearing of pain and walking through it. As much as she wanted to ache for those who lost loved ones, it was easier to appreciate the beautiful day and scenery. More than that, she’d soon be looking into the face of an old friend.
Ginny pressed her forehead against the glass and gazed down into the waters that stretched in every direction. Was it true she might actually see a whale? She jumped as she spotted motion but then saw that it was only the white crest of a wave rising and falling.
Ahead of them huge mountains spread across the horizon, white-peaked and pointed like a queen’s crown. Excitement bubbled in her chest. How many times had Brett talked about the small community he’d come from?
“So what do you like most about Glacier Bay?” she dared to ask Karen.
The woman looked back over her shoulder and offered a wistful sigh. “Might be the only place in the country where the newspaper uses only first names in its reports and everyone still knows who they’re talking about. I’ve lived in Juneau for six years now, and I miss that.”
“Heading home to see your folks?” a gray-haired man seated in front of Ginny asked Karen from across the aisle.
“Yes. It’s my parents’ thirtieth anniversary. All the kids are coming back.”
“Thirty years.” Ginny leaned forward. “You don’t hear much of that anymore.”
“Theirs is a great love story for sure. Dad came to Glacier Bay to work on the airstrip they were putting in. Mom was one of the local girls. They fell in love, and he never left.”
Ginny put on a smile, but deep down her heart ached. “That’s so sweet.” Growing up, the ache had been more prominent than now. Or maybe she had learned to ignore it. What would it be like to have parents who’d been married for thirty years? She hadn’t a clue.
Unwelcome memories came to mind of other mothers bringing cupcakes into school on birthdays. Of fathers milling around on Dads and Donuts Friday. She’d never liked Fridays. That stupid tradition of her school’s was the reason why. The kids who had dads got to go to the cafeteria and eat donuts with their fathers. The others, like her—well, it was obvious they were the losers.
“So are you visiting someone in Glacier Bay or is it vacation?” Karen’s words interrupted Ginny’s thoughts.
“I’m, uh…” Ginny blew out a breath. “I’m visiting an old friend. Brett Miller.”
“Brett!” The man ahead of her pivoted toward her. “So you know Brett? He’s a great guy.” He leaned forward, motioning to the pilot. “Did you hear that, Neil? This girl knows Brett.”
“Brett? Really?” The pilot looked over his shoulder briefly. “I went to school with Brett.”
“Everyone knows Brett.” Karen fiddled with the ends of her braid. “He teaches adult Sunday school at Gustavus Community Church. I always enjoy going when I’m in town.”
Ginny noticed the tinge of pink in the woman’s cheeks.
She looked back at Ginny again, and her eyes narrowed. “Wait, what did you say your name was again?”
“I didn’t, sorry. It’s Ginny. Ginny Marshall.”
The woman turned back toward the front of the airplane. Her jaw twitched and tightened. The others turned forward too, each gazing down at the ocean inlet as if they were seeing it for the first time.
Ginny’s fingers wrapped around her seat belt, and her thumbnail clicked on the metal buckle. She should have figured this. If the town was small enough for the newspaper to print only first names, then of course they’d know about one of their own being dumped just before the wedding invitations were sent out.
Ginny sank lower in her seat. She hadn’t set foot in the town, and she was already an outcast.
“What am I doing here?” she muttered under her breath, pretending to search the ocean waves for whales. How could a girl like me be welcomed in a place like this?
Some scars weren’t visible, but the pain was the same. She should have remembered that. Remembered that when tragedy hit, the ripples went far, as each absorbed a small part into itself.
Maybe she didn’t remember because for so long she’d carried her own pain alone. She’d shared it with only one person. Sometimes she wished she hadn’t. Instead of allowing her to wallow in her grief and self-pity, Brett had encouraged her to take it to God, trust Him, ask Jesus to turn her mess into a message she could share with others. Easier said than done.
It was one of the reasons she’d gotten into that car and driven away from his love. From their future. She couldn’t put on a mask in front of Brett. Maybe that was why she liked performing. She strode on stage a new woman—one people respected, applauded.
Ginny’s hands gripped the armrest of the airplane seat, and she released a low breath. She thought she wanted the mask and a future that didn’t hinge on her past. But if that was the case, what was she doing here? Why had she come to Glacier Bay?
Chapter Three
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Brett’s legs stretched out before him as he paddled the kayak toward Margerie Glacier, one of his favorite spots in Glacier Bay. Gliding over the waterline, he felt as comfortable here as he did waking up in his bed back home. The life vest captured the pounding of his heartbeat, which quickened as he approached the tidewater face of Margerie Glacier.
The brilliant blue reminded him of Ginny’s eyes. That was the first thing he’d notic
ed when she’d glanced at him from across the table at the college Bible study. Both the brilliant blue and the sadness were hard to miss. Over the months and years that followed, he learned a lot about her painful childhood growing up in the foster care system. He had thought his love would be enough to unlock her heart and to help her chip away at the walls she’d built, brick by brick, pain by pain. He’d been wrong. It hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough.
He rested his paddles and stared up at the blue ice towering over him like the spires on Cinderella’s castle. Around him chunks of ice that had escaped the twenty-one-mile tidewater glacier bobbed in the water, crowding his kayak at times.
The sound of his partner’s paddle grew louder, and Mitch slid up beside him.
“Ready to go back?”
“Not really.” Brett blew out a foggy breath. Clouds gathered, and he guessed a light rain would greet them at their pickup spot. Brett spotted their ride, a boat from Glacier Bay Lodge, bobbing farther down the bay and heading their direction. It would arrive soon. It always excited the tourists when a kayaker hitchhiked back to the lodge with them.
The men and women on the small bay cruise—who paid to view the Alaskan wilderness from behind the glass of a heated boat while sipping clam chowder—always looked at him in awe. As did those on the nearby cruise ship. How many people watched his progress through the water from decks high above?
Brett turned slightly and glanced over his shoulder, taking in the sight of the cruise ship that filled most of the horizon. The ships were a constant presence near the glaciers; one or two at a time would pause to appreciate the views.
After living here all his life, Brett had learned that there were two types of people who visited Glacier Bay: those who took the beauty home with them in digital images, usually taken from the decks of ships, and those who walked along the shores, hiked among the pines, and glided close over the waters.
And there were two types of people who lived in Gustavus: those who had summer cottages and got their “fix” of the wilderness before heading back to the city, and those who didn’t worry about having a fancy—or even a finished—house but who respected the land and water and learned to live in harmony with it, as the Tlingit Indians who’d come before them. After attending college in California for a while, Brett understood both types.
