by Tricia Goyer
How sorry I was to hear about your grandfather’s stroke. I admire his strength and business savvy. I know he means a great deal to you. I am thankful recovery seems near.
Ellie, the joyous memories we share make this letter difficult to write.
It is in my heart to marry you. It is. But your absence this week has provided me a chance to objectively consider our future. I have questions and, to be honest, doubts about our compatibility. I wonder if our rush to marry was based not on true affection but rather on familiarity and friendship. Mother is against it, as you know, because she believes you wish to marry me for my money. But her threats have not influenced me. It is because of my own doubts that I must break our engagement.
James
The guilt and frustration rooted in Ginny’s heart made good soil for the anger that sprouted as she read the man’s words.
“How dare you, James,” she mumbled under her breath. “Of course she doesn’t want to marry you for your money! How could you think so? Even I can see that.”
Ginny resisted the urge to rip up the letter. She blew out a breath. This letter was from a man in the past. This James guy was long dead.
“Good thing.” She put the letter back into the envelope. “Or I would have done you in myself.”
Not with her hands. She was much too meek to raise a hand. No, she’d write a song about someone who didn’t trust the heart of another—didn’t believe her intentions could be true.
You doubt my motives, but look into my eyes. Don’t see love? You’re looking through shadowed glass. Sunshine’s on the other side of the lens. If you’d only trust in the beauty of my delight.
The words came unexpectedly. Most of Ginny’s songs happened that way. She’d tried to work with others in brainstorming sessions, as Danny suggested, but the pressure sucked the creativity out of her. Instead, words came when she least expected them. When her emotions built, they found release in melody and chorus.
Ginny put down the letters and hurried to her purse for her digital recorder, singing the words that played through her mind. There were only five lines, but it was a start.
Take that, James. As if it were her own fiancé who had sent the note, not a stranger.
Ginny looked at the recorder in her hand, wondering if this, too, was a sign. She was made for music. It was a part of her. She couldn’t walk away from it.
She’d been a fool to even think she could.
Chapter Eight
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As morning sunlight danced on the waves outside the window, Ginny dressed in designer jeans, silk blouse, and cashmere sweater. The sweater had been one of the things she’d bought with her first big paycheck. She still remembered stepping through the door of a boutique on Rodeo Drive and picking out the things she liked without any concern for their cost. She ran her hand up the soft sleeve. She hadn’t worn the sweater more than a dozen times. What was she thinking, buying an item like that in sunny LA, where the average temperature was seventy degrees?
A memory filtered into her mind. She’d been in the fifth grade, and unlike most years, a pile of presents had been waiting for her under the tree on Christmas morning. She’d felt like she’d had a visit from Cinderella’s godmother when she returned to school after winter break wearing her new jeans, a cute red sweater, and shiny white tennis shoes. Fellow students had eyed her new clothes with interest, and for the first time, she had felt like she fit in.
Ginny hadn’t been too surprised when Kaitlin Kennedy motioned her to the lunch table where all the popular kids sat. Yet before Ginny could join them, Kaitlin raised her voice above the din of the lunchroom.
“How do you like your new outfit, Virginia? I had a fun time picking it out with my mom. Every year we go shopping for a needy kid. If I’d known it was you I would have picked out a blue sweater, though.” Kaitlin smirked. “It would have gone better with your eyes.”
Ginny had rushed out of the lunchroom with the snickers of the other students trailing behind her. When she got home, she gave the clothes to one of her foster sisters without explanation. Her foster parents hadn’t noticed. They rarely noticed anything.
Ginny shook her head, tossing the memory out of her mind. She wished she could toss the ache out of her soul that easily. She didn’t need to worry about that now. She had enough money to get what she wanted, when she wanted. And if she signed the recording contract, she’d never have to worry about money again. She wouldn’t have to worry about anything—except this nagging, unsettled feeling in her heart.
As she started the coffeepot, she heard Grandma getting ready in the bathroom. Ginny released a breath. How would she break it to this sweet old woman that she’d be heading home as soon as she could call Fjord Air? She had to book a flight back to Juneau. She couldn’t just sit here—cut off from life—when all her dreams were waiting to come true as soon as she returned to LA. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Brett, but maybe that wasn’t the point. Maybe she was supposed to read these letters and be reminded to never be at the mercy of others again.
The bathroom door opened, and Grandma Ethel shuffled out, her hands braided in a worn fur shawl.
“Good morning, dear. Did you see the orcas in the bay this morning? There were two out there having their breakfast.”
“No. Really?” Ginny hurried to the window.
“They’re gone now, but they might come back.” Grandma Ethel smiled, but her face still looked weary.
“I was watching the bay—the boats going out. I don’t know how I missed them.”
Grandma Ethel patted her shoulder. “Sometimes you simply need to know what to look for, dear.” She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down slowly, pointing to the bay out the window. “A few stragglers are always fun to watch, but you should have seen the whales this summer. They’d come into Icy Passage in a group of twenty at least. They worked together, dipping and circling in a feeding pattern known only to them. In all my years I’ve never seen anything like it. I believe my mother told me about it once.…”
The chiming of the clock on the wall caught Ginny’s attention. When Grandma Ethel drew a breath, Ginny found the opportunity to jump in.
“Grandma, I’m sorry to interrupt, but do you mind if I use your telephone?” Ginny pulled her cell phone from her jeans pocket. “I’m afraid my cell isn’t working.”
“Oh no, that won’t work here. The only place it works is by Four Corners.”
“Four Corners?”
“Yes. Didn’t you see it coming in? There was the gas station, the pizza place, the coffee shop—”
“Oh, I remember that.” Ginny forced a smile. “Then again, I think it was the only gas station we passed.”
“Yes, dear, and did you see the old pumps? They’re antiques that have been refurbished, and if you get a chance, you need to go inside. Dick—the owner—has created a museum of sorts. He’s quite the collector.”
Ginny nodded as Grandma Ethel went on about how some of the museum items were brought over on the ferry that travels to Gustavus. Tension tightened Ginny’s chest, but a few more minutes of paying attention to this sweet old woman wouldn’t hurt anything.
As Grandma Ethel continued on about the price of the ferry and her last trip to Juneau, she got to her feet, poured Ginny a cup of coffee, and then placed creamer on the table, motioning her to sit. Instead, Ginny added a little cream and sugar to the cup and moved closer to the counter where the rotary phone sat.
She glanced up at the sheet of paper that was taped to the cupboard. Fjord Air’s number was there. Trying not to let her impatience show too much, she tapped the pointed toe of her boot on the linoleum floor that had seen better days.
“Some folks don’t understand how so many of us can survive here all year long. Well, we take care of each other, that’s how. It’s how community is supposed to be, loving your neighbor. I heard that in some parts of the country, people don’t even know their neighbors! I can’t imagine.”
Ginny leaned against the countertop, lifting an eyebrow as Grandma Ethel continued on, seemingly without taking a breath. Things were that way in LA. She knew two people from her apartment complex. The rest were familiar faces, if that.
Finally, when the older woman took a sip of her coffee, Ginny found her moment.
“There are so many things to know about this area. I’d love to get a chance to look around, but I really need to use the phone….”
Grandma Ethel pursed her lips, a flash of disappointment in her gaze. “Oh yes. I forgot. Go right ahead.”
As Ginny dialed, Grandma rose and moved to the cabinet. She pulled out a couple of chipped plates and placed cake doughnuts on them. She lifted them toward Ginny with a smile, then settled at the kitchen table.
“Fine time for my grandson to decide to get all introspective,” Grandma Ethel mumbled loud enough for Ginny to hear. “Always told him that wilderness would get him into trouble one of these days.”
A silent plea laced the old woman’s spoken complaints. Please stay. My grandson will come around. Don’t head back already.
He’d come back, but when? And what would she lose in those days? Danny’s enthusiasm. The recording studio’s time and attention.
She pushed all hesitation out of her mind and dialed the number to the airline. The phone rang three times, and then an answering machine picked up. “Fjord Air, Trish here. You want to fly? Leave a message and we’ll get right back.”
Ginny scanned the phone list, looking for Grandma Ethel’s number. It was there, right under Brett’s. Ginny’s heart leapt when she read his name, but she didn’t have time to chide herself. Instead she left a message, stating she’d like a ticket back to Juneau for sometime today. Since her cell wasn’t working, she left Grandma Ethel’s number.
They ate a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast with grape jam. Apparently the doughnut was a snack. When the phone rang, Ginny jumped, but it wasn’t Fjord Air. It was a woman named Dove, and from the half of the conversation she could hear, Ginny gathered that Dove was telling Grandma Ethel about an ankle injury.
Ginny scanned a week-old newspaper and read about a recent field trip by the second, third, and fourth graders. During their cruise up Glacier Bay, their ferry hit a whale. Thankfully no one—including the whale—was injured in the incident.
“I’m so glad the weather was good enough for Brett to fly you into Juneau to get that checked out.” Grandma Ethel clicked her tongue into the phone. “Yes, he is a sweet boy. So helpful, you’re right.” Ginny glanced up to see Grandma Ethel’s eyes fixed on hers. “I know, Dove. You’ve been so faithful with your prayers. I know God has the perfect young woman chosen for my grandson. He’s good in that way.”
Ginny smiled, but guilt weighed down on her as if that whale sat on her chest. Poor woman. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up like this.
Grandma probably believed Ginny had come to confess her love to Brett—maybe that’s why she’d offered the letters. One good love story deserves hearing about another. Not that Ellie found love with James. Not that Ginny had found it with Brett.
After she finished eating, Ginny loaded her dishes into the dishwasher and then hurried to the living room. Tension tightened her shoulders. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Not only was she stupid for coming here but also for not trying to find a way to Four Corners where she could use her own phone. If Grandma stayed on that phone much longer, Ginny would miss a call from the airline and her chance to be on the next flight out. There couldn’t be too many flights out of Gustavus every day.
Ginny checked her cell phone again, as if by some miracle she’d suddenly have service, but she still didn’t have a single bar.
She picked up the box, telling herself that Ellie’s letters could occupy her mind for fifteen minutes. After that she’d have to interrupt and politely ask Grandma if she could again use the phone. Or if that didn’t work, she’d go on a walk and try to pick up a cell phone signal. It couldn’t be more than a couple of miles to Four Corners, could it?
May 29, 1928
Dear James,
Please, my love. My hands are shaking, my eyes blurred with tears. Please don’t do this. Can’t you see how desperate I am to prove myself to you? To win you back? You will see. I will somehow regain our good name and fortune. Your mother will approve, and then I will forgive you, for the sake of our childhood memories and my ever-loyal love. I will forgive you and we will be together again.
Ellie
Ginny paused. There was only silence coming from the kitchen. After a moment she recognized Grandma’s soft humming. The phone was free, and Ginny told herself she’d call the airline again. But first she needed to find out James’s response. She’d call—she would. After one more letter.
June 5, 1928
Dear Grandfather,
So much has happened since I saw you last week. I wish I could be with you now, sitting by your bed, reading the next chapter of Pilgrim’s Progress (don’t you know it by heart yet?).
I hesitate to even tell you in your condition, but with whom else can I talk? And I must tell someone. Oh, Grandfather, James has broken my heart. He called off the engagement and doesn’t want to see me again. Every hope of my future included him. My dreams, goals… And he holds my past as well. I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t my friend.
But then—it’s so odd—my misery sneaks away and another feeling boils up—anger. How could he hurt me this way? Why did he stop loving me? How could his mother say I only considered his money when I’ve loved him from nearly my first memory? How could he listen to that?
Yet, despite my pain, I forgive him, wholeheartedly. I am determined to win my James back. He is blinded by his mother’s poison. I must provide the antidote—my continued love and devotion. I will prove myself to him. If he can’t marry a poor governess, I will become the woman he can marry. There must be some way we can climb back to the position we were in before we lost everything.
Oh, Grandfather, the ironic thing is I’m perfectly content as a simple governess, as long as I have you and James. But for James’s sake, I will try. I refuse to be dependent upon that dreadful Felix Cooney for anything.
I haven’t the foggiest idea how I will do this. But I will figure it out.
I suppose this is enough of my sad story. I love you, Grandfather. I will check on you soon.
Ellie
Chapter Nine
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Ellie’s letter was troubling, but not as troubling as the news Ginny received from the airline when she finally got ahold of them. “Sorry, miss. The visibility’s so bad, we can’t see the end of the runway. Looks like we won’t be goin’ anywhere soon.”
“But…surely there’s another alternative. Is there a ferry? A, uh, boat I could hire to take me back to Juneau?”
“Your next chance to take the ferry out would be Sunday.”
Ginny glanced over at Grandma Ethel, who was hard at work whipping up egg salad. Was that a hint of a grin on her lips?
“Sunday? Well, can I buy a plane ticket for tomorrow?”
“Sorry. There’s a reunion group going out, but I have a friend who’s flying in to Juneau. He might have an open seat. I can check with him and call you back.”
“Yes, I’d love that. Thank you.”
Grandma Ethel’s smile was bigger now.
Ginny had barely sat down when the phone rang. She cocked an eyebrow.
“Go ahead and answer it, dear. It’s probably for you.”
“Hello?”
“Ginny?” The man’s voice caught her by surprise. She recognized it immediately, but she couldn’t connect Danny’s voice with Grandma Ethel’s house.
“Danny?”
“Sweetie, finally. Are you okay?”
“Okay? Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been calling and texting for two days. I called the lodge at least a dozen times. Finally
I got someone at the front desk who knew you were staying with Grandma Ethel—whoever that is. She gave me the number.” Worry and frustration filled his voice.
“I’m so sorry. I should have called.”
“Yes, you should have. There are a few things I need to talk to you about. In fact, you need to come back to LA as soon as possible.”
The inflection in Danny’s voice reminded her of one of her foster fathers, Clem. He spoke in demands and demands only. There was no such thing as a conversation.
“But I told you I’d be gone for a week….” The urgency of her desire to return dissipated like fog over the bay.
“I know that, sweetheart.” She heard the shuffling of papers on his desk. She couldn’t think of a time when Danny wasn’t multitasking. “You said a week, but I thought you’d change your mind. It’s not every day a girl’s invited to perform at the Grammys.”
“What? The Grammys?” The words caught in her throat. Danny had to be joking. “I’m certain I didn’t hear you right.”
“The Grammys. You need to get down here right away. The producer wants to see you. We need to pick a song, your dress. Too many details.”
“They’re held in the spring—months away.”
“Do you think these things happen overnight? It takes awhile to plan.”
Ginny glanced out at the bay and noticed small white birds swirling and dancing in circles, a perfect picture of delight. Her heart felt like that. After all those lonely years. After all the questions of why she’d been born and if she even mattered. “But I tried to book a flight. There aren’t any.”
“None? I’m sure my assistant can find something. Let me get her on it. Seriously, Ginny, next time you run off to find yourself, pick a place that’s not off the end of the earth.”
She wanted to retort. For some reason she felt like she should stand up for the place—for the people—even though she’d been here for fewer than twenty-four hours.
“I can probably get a flight home tomorrow. Surely that’ll be good enough.”
“No, today. Even if I have to hire a private jet to come up to get you.”
