Love Finds You in Glacier Bay, Alaska

by Tricia Goyer

  “Depends what you consider easier.” Grandma Ethel shifted in her chair. “Is it easier to live among rich and fancy folks and be a star—yet carry an emptiness inside? Or is it easier to just make ends meet, yet live in community, with someone you love—and who loves you—and feel God’s pleasure?” Grandma Ethel let out a sigh. “It’s up to you, dear girl.”

  Grandma pointed to the living room, her lips curling up in a smile. “Now go, wait for Brett. You might have time to read a few more of Ellie’s letters. Maybe you’ll be surprised by what she chose. There’s only a few dishes. I’ll take care of them.”

  Ginny nodded and put her own plate in the sink, then hurried to the sofa in the living room. She wrapped the quilt from Grandma’s bed tighter around her shoulders.

  She was almost afraid to read any more of Ellie’s letters. Afraid they’d prove Grandma Ethel right. So instead she watched for Brett. After a few minutes, she spotted his white truck coming down the road. She was happy to see him, mostly because he’d distract her from his grandmother’s words. Because to take them in—really take them in—would change everything.

  * * * * *

  Ginny waved at Brett as he parked. Today she’d worn her loosest jeans and had found one of his own shirts in Grandma’s laundry room. She noticed Brett’s eyes on her as he parked. He wore a red plaid shirt and looked as if he’d just stepped out of a Land’s End commercial. She wanted to run to him, but instead waited for him to come to her.

  “I want you to teach me to shoot,” she said as he mounted the steps.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Clay wanted to teach Ellie. It’s only fair I get to learn, too.”

  “Yes, but Ellie had to scare away bears.”

  Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you remember some of the wild people who lived in California?” She laughed. “It’ll be a useful skill for self-protection.”

  “Okay, but we’d need to go back to my place for a rifle.”

  “Is there a shooting range nearby?”

  “A shooting range?” Brett shook his head. “Ginny, this is Gustavus. There’s a dozen spots on my grandparents’ property where we could shoot. But are you sure you want to do that? I had other plans.”

  He pointed up at the sky.

  “We’re going up in an airplane?”

  Brett cocked his chin, and then he offered her his elbow. “No, Ginny. We’re going up in my plane.”

  It didn’t take them long to get to the airport. It didn’t take long to get anywhere in Gustavus. Passengers from another flight were crossing the tarmac, and Ginny thought of the day she’d arrived, when she’d sported fancy clothes and hot-pink luggage. She’d come to talk to Brett, and discovered a community. She’d come to figure out her story, and found Ellie’s. Maybe somehow her story would sort itself out through both these things.

  The truck parked, Ginny walked by Brett’s side to the hangar. He reached out his hand, and she gladly slid her smaller one inside his larger one. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, and tingles danced up her arm.

  A group of guys were at the hangar, and they all called their greetings. Ginny recognized Mitch from Grandma’s house.

  Mitch playfully slugged Brett’s shoulder. “What’s this pretty woman doing with the likes of you?”

  Brett shrugged. “Maybe I’m her muse. Heaven knows every hit song of hers has been about how I’ve dragged her heart through the dirt.”

  Ginny’s eyes widened and she gasped, realizing how true that statement was. “Yes, but from here on out I’m hoping to write happier songs. Ones full of hope.” She winked at him.

  Brett squeezed her hand and leaned closer, speaking so only she heard. “Hearing that is just as good as a contract signed and sealed that declares your love.”

  Contract. Her shoulders straightened as the word replayed in her mind. She had to get back to Danny. Had to let him know that things would be different. How? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t imagine not having Brett in her life, even if that meant waiting for him to get Africa out of his system.

  Like ants around an anthill, the other guys put aside their work and helped Brett ready his plane. They joked with him as they filled it up and performed a safety check. They respected Brett. That was evident. Not for his money or fame, but for who he was. Seeing that spoke to Ginny’s soul more than anything had in a very long time.

  Her stomach quivered as she climbed into the plane after Brett, sat in the passenger’s seat, and buckled herself in. He gave her a quick safety talk, and then with his expert handling of the controls, they were soon roaring down the runway and lifting gracefully into the air.

  Flying in the front of Brett’s small plane was different from any commercial flight she’d ever taken. It was even different from the small plane she’d ridden in from Juneau. Pride puffed her chest to see Brett as a pilot. And when she pointed toward the bay, he turned the plane that direction.

  With few words between them, they followed the same path they had taken a few days before, taking in the water, the cruise ships, the mountains, and the glaciers from a totally new angle. What she’d only seen in part down on the water, now she saw in whole. Beyond one mountain peak were a thousand. Beyond the inlet waves was an endless sea.

  Brett was the only one in her life who, instead of setting her path for her, opened her up to possibilities. And hadn’t Ellie’s letters done the same? Hadn’t they shown her that life could be—would be—hard and painful, but that it was faced most effectively, lived most beautifully, when surrounded by those you loved?

  “Wow.” Ginny’s eyes peered into the expanse, wishing that they didn’t have to stop or turn back. Brett cleared his throat and she looked at him. She realized then that his gaze wasn’t on the view but on her.

  “We can make this work.” It was a simple statement, but her whole body warmed at those words. Ginny had no idea what “this” was or how in the world it would work, but she wanted nothing more than to agree.

  “Yes, Brett,” she said simply. “Yes, we can.” A smile filled his face, bringing flutters to her heart. There’d be days and weeks to figure out the details, but for now she just wanted to soar with him. Soar and explore a world full of dreams. Full of possibilities.

  * * * * *

  On the way back to Grandma Ethel’s house, Ginny asked Brett to pull over at Four Corners.

  “I have a call to make. It’ll only take one minute.”

  “How about I get us coffee then?” He parked by the Fireweed.

  “Perfect.” Ginny dialed a familiar number as she leaned against the wall by the bulletin board. She noticed a new posting. Birthday party for Bill at Bud’s place. Ginny knew where Bud’s place was. Would they mind if she dropped in? She chuckled, supposing they wouldn’t.

  “Hello?”

  She smiled as she recognized her brother’s voice on the phone.

  “Hi, Drew, it’s Ginny.”

  “Oh, hi. Is something wrong?”

  “Why would you think something’s wrong?”

  “You don’t call much, and your voice sounds different.”

  “Oh, it’s just a good day.” She shrugged. “I was just wondering how Cooper’s birthday went.”

  “Great.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “He got a bike. I taught him to ride last night.” Drew laughed. “I think he’s ridden two hundred laps around our cul-de-sac today.”

  “You’re a good dad, Drew, teaching him to ride like that.” She’d thought that every time she saw her brother with his kids, but she hadn’t told him before. She didn’t know why she hadn’t.

  “Thanks, Ginny. That means a lot.”

  She heard noises in the background, the sound of kids’ voices.

  “Hey, Cooper just ran in. You want to talk to him?”

  Emotion rose in her throat. “Yes, of course.”

  “Hello? Who is this?” His voice was more grown up than the last time she’d talked to him. Fully boy.

  “Hey, Coop. A
unt Ginny’s on the phone.” Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away.

  “Aunt Ginny!” He laughed. “Will you sing to me, Aunt Ginny?”

  “Do you want me to sing the birthday song?”

  “No, silly.” His chuckle lightened her heart even more—if that was possible. “My favorite song.”

  Hearing those words, Ginny’s mind took her back to Christmas two years prior. She’d been talked into staying at Drew and Monica’s house on Christmas Eve, and then when it was far past their bedtime, her two nieces and nephew had found their way into her room. They’d all circled around her on the floor, and she’d sung the only song she could remember from her childhood—one she’d learned in a Sunday school she’d only attended a few times. As Ginny sang the words over the phone now, she couldn’t think of a better song for this moment.

  “He’s got the whole world in His hands. He’s got the whole world in His hands. He’s got the whole world in His hands—”

  She was just about to sing that last line one more time when Dove Fowler came hobbling out of Fireweed on her crutches.

  “Oh, Ginny, Ginny, there you are,” Dove said, not even seeming to care that Ginny was on the phone. “I need to talk to you, dear. It’s about singing tomorrow night. Remember we’re raising funds for Brett’s trip to Africa.”

  On the other end of the phone Cooper’s laughter dulled to a low roar. The sunlight around her faded too. And as the last words of the song still hung on her lips, Ginny remembered anew—the whole world included Africa.

  She bit her lower lip. She was warming up to the idea that she could move here. She was falling in love with the place. But there?

  “Aunt Ginny, Aunt Ginny.” She could barely make out his voice through the fog that filled her mind.

  “Where are you, Aunt Ginny? Where you going next? Are you off on another plane? Another adventure?”

  “I’m not sure, Coop,” she said as she waved a hand at Dove Fowler. “I wish I knew.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  .......................

  August 4, 1929

  Dear Grandfather,

  My hands are shaking; I can barely write. I’m in the cabin, just me and the children. Clay and Linc have been hunting all day. It gets dark so late here. They can hunt all night, practically. I don’t know when he’ll be home.

  A bear, Grandfather. It was Janey. She went to the outhouse and a bear… The gun. I couldn’t…

  I can’t write. I’ll tell you later.

  Ellie

  August 4, 1929

  Dear Grandfather Barnett,

  I asked Papa if I could write and tell what happened. I like putting my thoughts down on paper. I write a diary, you know. Like the princesses in books do. It makes me feel better, especially after Mama died. But this time, the diary wasn’t enough. I wanted to tell you, because it was really scary, and I know you’ll pray for me to not be afraid anymore. I’m glad you are my friend.

  It was after bedtime, but still light. Did you know it stays light really late here? At ten o’clock it’s sort of pink outside. You can still look around. I like it, except it’s hard to fall asleep.

  I went to the outhouse. I’m supposed to stay inside after bedtime, or get a grown-up, but with it all nice and pink outside, I thought it would be okay. Miss Ellie was stitching up a fox shawl in her room and didn’t see me sneak out.

  When I was done, I opened the door a little, but I heard something breathing deep-like. Dark and scary. And footsteps, branches breaking, and such. I knew it wasn’t Mama Moose because she’s not dark and scary. I peeked out the door and saw him. The biggest, blackest, scariest bear I ever saw. I’ve seen bears before, but not so up close.

  At first I couldn’t move. I don’t know. I was just so scared. My scream stayed in my throat. Has that ever happened to you? I watched it clomp around the garden. I was sore afraid he would eat my rutabagas, “Purple Top” and “Yellow Boy,” but he didn’t. He just walked on through, sniffing. I thought he might just pass through, not notice me.

  Then, I don’t know why, but that nasty bear turned and stared right at me. His eyes looked really mean, and his nose scrunched up. The rest was a big black shadow. He turned and started coming toward the outhouse.

  I slammed the door shut, latched it, and held it tight with my hands. My heart raced so fast. I wanted to cry. Finally my scream came out, loudest in my life.

  I couldn’t see anything, because the little window’s too high, but I could hear him stomping toward me. Then scratching on the wood. It was so awful! He pushed and pushed against the door. And I screamed and screamed! “Miss Ellie! Miss Ellie! Papa! Papa!” Even though I knew he wasn’t home.

  I thought sure the bear’s claws would break through the wood. Then—oh, it was so scary—I saw his nose sniff the window. That’s when he started growling, kind of low-like.

  “Miss Ellie!!” I kept on screaming. Finally I heard the door to the house open. I heard Miss Ellie’s scream, powerful loud, like mine was. The bear stopped scratching on the outhouse for a minute.

  “Get out of here!” Miss Ellie yelled, but the bear went back to scratching. I could barely hear Miss Ellie, sort of talking to herself. “The gun. The gun.” Her voice was all shaky.

  “Shoot it, Miss Ellie!” I shouted.

  Then, it felt like his whole body was leaning against the outhouse. It tipped a little. I thought for sure it was going to fall all the way over and that bear was going to eat me.

  “Don’t worry, Janey!” Miss Ellie yelled to me. “Get inside!” She must’ve been talking to Zach. “Take care of your sister.” I heard the front door slam and Zach and Penny start crying.

  Boy, was the outhouse tipping, almost as much as I was screaming. Through the cracks, the bear’s fur touched my arm. That’s when I started crying. He was so close. I thought sure I was gonna die. The outhouse just about tipped over, but then I heard a shot. Just one.

  The bear let go of the outhouse and it tipped forward and back, finally ending up where it’s supposed to stand. I was too afraid to open the door. After a couple of minutes, Miss Ellie came to get me. We hugged real big and cried.

  I didn’t see the bear. I thought maybe she’d shot it, but then she said no, she didn’t. Just scared it off.

  I won’t go to the outhouse alone at all, ever, nighttime or day. Never ever again. Pray for me. I don’t want to be a fraidy cat. Pray for Miss Ellie too. She feels really bad that she didn’t kill the bear.

  I love you.

  Janey

  August 4, 1929

  Brother Peter,

  I know Ellie mentioned the bear. Sleep’s not having me tonight, so let me fill out the story. I’ve tried to teach Ellie to shoot, even though she’s resisted. I give her credit for grabbing the gun. Not an easy thing when a person’s as scared of guns as she is. She said she had a perfect shot, but her hands shook so much she couldn’t pull the trigger. She dropped my father’s Great War rifle into the slush and it went off.

  I give thanks to the Lord the bullet didn’t shoot her or one of the kids. Didn’t shoot the bear either. Scared it away, for which I’m glad.

  The bear gone, Ellie grabbed up Janey and ran to the house. When Linc and I got home a few minutes later, they were all hugs and tears. I held my Ellie till she stopped shaking. It’s a kindness to be the one to comfort her. I want to take care of that girl all my days. Just thinking about her gives a warm feeling.

  But I can’t be home every moment. If a woman wants to live up here, she’s got to shoot. For her own safety and my children’s. I’d sure appreciate prayers, for I’m worried sick about their safety.

  Clay

  August 10, 1929

  Dear Grandfather,

  I think of you every day, almost every moment, during these trying days. I miss you and feel such a relief to write the events of my life to you, just as I always have.

  Are you doing well? Is dear Nurse Schroeder taking good care of you? I’m sure she is. How is your he
alth? I trust you grow stronger each day. I trust Felix still covers your medical bills—I have no choice but to trust that. A letter would provide great comfort, Grandfather. I know you will write soon, or perhaps your letter was lost.

  We are mourning here. The bear fiasco seems a trifle compared to what happened next. Part of me doesn’t want to tell you, but I’ve always shared everything with you, so I will. I know you won’t judge me. I’m already judging myself. Clay hasn’t shown any sign of frustration with me, but how could he not feel it? I know he loves me, but I know how important his children are to him.

  What I’m going to tell you happened over a week ago. With a laden heart—as if weighed down by ten of Christian’s burdens—I will tell you.

  It was that night, the same night I failed to kill the bear. A shuddering wind quaked the cabin, whispering in through the cracks. Clay and Linc returned soon after. We spewed out the story to their amazement. But then, with them home, our calm inched back. I made tea; Janey sat down to write you a letter; Zach “read” a book to Penny.

  Soon Linc went off to the mansion to bed (that’s what we call Clay and Linc’s sleeping shack). Clay and I cozied onto the porch swing, nestled under a stack of fur pelts. My neck released its stiffness as I rested my head on his shoulder, felt his strong hand on my arm.

  “Rough night.”

  Something about the way he said it, not cracking a smile, sent me into a giggle fit. Boy, was he proud to make me laugh. I smacked his arm.

  “Oh yes,” I said. “That’s just the word I was looking for.”

  He smiled, and I snuggled closer. The moon, so sharp and clear, broke through the building clouds. He moved my hair behind my ear, then kissed my forehead. We sat like this for a few moments, taking in the stillness, the brisk Alaska air. Then I confessed that although I’d had a good shot, I’d missed the bear. He touched my hand and said, “Okay.”

  That’s all. Not a sharp tone, not a hint of disappointment in me. But I know he was thinking about his little girl. And what might happen if that bear comes back when he’s not home.