by Tricia Goyer
Chapter Thirty-Eight
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September 13, 1929
Dear Clay,
I have so much to tell you. This may be a long letter.
After I wrote you on the airplane, I sat looking out the window. It was so cold, the blanket barely warmed me. I started thinking about Grandfather, and a panic came over me. He was spared last time, after his stroke. I couldn’t imagine God restoring him to me a second time. I knew he was going to die, may already have passed, and I completely broke down.
My whole life I depended on him, needed him. How could I live without him? I’d failed to make anyone else love me, Clay. Not James or his family, not Joseph… I know you loved me. But then I had to leave. I tried so hard to please everyone.
All these thoughts, a year of trying and failing, and especially the fear of losing Grandfather, exploded over me. Through Tinle’s recovery, the months Joseph rejected me, and even when I told you I would leave, I stayed strong. But I could hold that strength no longer.
I sobbed, tears running through my fingers as I covered my face. I felt like I was in a kayak in the middle of Glacier Bay’s vast openness. The stark mountains were hidden by a thick fog. Stuck, immobile, afraid to go any direction, I laid my oars down and leaned back. Around me a storm stirred, soon raging around my little kayak, filling it with icy waves, weighing it down. A dark terror encompassed me.
And then I heard James’s voice as if from far away. “God is with you,” he said. Not like him to speak of God, but he must’ve seen the intensity of my pain. To be honest, I ached for you, Clay. Longed for you to row up in your kayak and show me the way home. But you didn’t come. I stayed in this place of morbid sadness until we landed. James gave up on trying to comfort me and led me off the plane in silence. I hardly noticed the scenery, so familiar, as the taxi took me to the hospital.
Ginny paused for a moment, glancing at the inlet outside Grandma Ethel’s window. Her heart ached for Ellie, but not as it had before. Maybe because she had a sense that Ellie would find some hope to cling to. Even if her grandfather died. Even if she stayed in San Francisco, there was always hope.
Last night Ginny had stayed up late. After sending the cameraman on to the lodge, Danny had stayed to talk to her and Brett. He’d glanced at her time and time again with curiosity, but instead of asking about the changes in her, he had instead grilled Brett about the fishing, the tourists, the gold in the mountains.
Danny assumed she’d go back, of course, but she suspected he was giving her time to digest the new information about her mother. She knew she’d go back too. She wasn’t going to give up music. She was her mother’s songbird. She was just putting herself, and her music, into the place they needed to be from the beginning—into Jesus’ hands.
She looked back at the letter, hoping Ellie made the same discovery.
I entered the hospital’s lobby, and the first thing I heard was piano music. “The Maple Leaf Rag” by Scott Joplin. Grandfather’s favorite. I stifled a sob as I gazed at the grand piano gleaming in sunlight, which poured in through big windows. A troupe of patients stood around, clapping and humming, and an array of high-back velveteen chairs formed a half circle.
While wending our way to Grandfather’s room, a woman grabbed my arm.
“You Ellie Bell?” She was short and sturdy, with arms like sausages.
“Yes. I mean, that’s what my grandfather calls me. Do you know him?”
It was Nurse Schroeder! Relief loosened my muscles. I wanted to embrace her, but she didn’t seem willing. She dragged me back the other direction, toward the piano.
I tried, but failed, to release myself from her grip and maneuver toward Grandfather’s room. “I really want to see Grandfather.”
“Ja, yes. I take you.” She continued tromping ahead.
Reaching the piano, I yanked my arm from her grip and grabbed her shoulders. “Tell me! Where is my grandfather?”
The player suddenly stopped, and each set of eyes in the room turned to us.
She pointed to one of the high-backed chairs, and I spotted my favorite grin in the world. “Grandfather!” I rushed to him, knelt before him, and wept into his fragile hands.
“My Ellie Bell.” He patted my head. “You see. Our God takes care of us. Doesn’t He? I am well.”
“Well?”
“Getting well, ja.” Nurse Schroeder brushed lint from Grandfather’s hospital gown. “The doctor say he respond better than expected to treatment. Men his age usually do not recover from pneumonia, but God took care and he is okay. He still need time to recover.”
I couldn’t answer. No words. Every emotion of the last year—the good, the better-than-good, the heartbreaking—flowed out into Grandfather’s arms. And, Clay, in that moment, I knew I wasn’t alone. I grasped that God loved me even though I didn’t deserve it. All my striving to make everyone love me—it was because I didn’t really believe God loved me. But He did, He always did.
I was suddenly able to see everything that had happened to me as part of His providence—“His preserving and governing all His creatures and all their actions.” All along, through the loss of my parents, my struggles with James and his mother, Grandfather’s misfortune, the joys and heartbreaks in Alaska—through everything—God guided each of my steps. I didn’t realize it, but that doesn’t change the truth: He was there, loving me.
I finally understood what Grandfather had been trying to teach me all my life. Christ is my solid rock. Everything else can pass away, but He will never leave me. My hope is built on nothing less.
In that moment, my face must’ve shone with the joy of the Lord, because Grandfather kissed me and said, “Amen and amen!”
I pulled my half of the heart-shaped stone from my pocket, ran my fingers over the rough edges, and showed it to Grandfather. He smiled and pulled out his half.
“Christ da rock,” Nurse S. said, quickly wiping a tear.
Grandfather and I held the broken rock, his hands lined with years, mine rough with work. “Christ is my rock.” I whispered. “No matter what.”
That was three weeks ago now. A lot has happened. Grandfather’s fortune having been restored, we got our house back. I never thought that would happen. James continues to come around. I think his mother pushes him. Imagine that! I heard an heiress from New York has been interested in him. Hopefully he’ll look her direction soon.
And me, I’m content. Even if Grandfather died tomorrow, I’d be heartbroken but not destroyed. I don’t need the approval of others to make me happy. I’ve got Christ, and He’s enough. Well, at least that’s what I’m trying to learn.
Of course I still love you, with all my heart, but I’m letting go of the hope I so wanted to cling to. I will miss you and the children. I wish you the happiest life possible.
Ellie
October 15, 1929
Dear Janey,
You must forgive me for not writing sooner. I have been very sick, my child, with something called pneumonia. Only our dear Lord could’ve saved me, and He did. Amen and amen! I’m grateful because it seems we have a great task ahead of us to forge a way for your papa and my Ellie Bell to head down the road to matrimony. Our plans are not as His, though. We must be prepared for a different outcome than we hope, but we can trust His ways are always the best. Right?
Having said that, cheer up, my girl! I still have one last strategy toward our great goal. I will write you again with more details. You must be patient, dear.
My dear Ellie is here, as you know. At first she slept right in my room all twisted and balled in a chair. Ridiculous! I made her go to the home where she grew up. (We need to sell that place, but I haven’t told her that yet.)
Grandfather
June 8, 1930
Dear Janey,
Hello, my dear! Yes, thank you for your last letter. Our plan is going wonderfully, don’t you think?
As the months have passed, I’m gaining strength. I think I’ll soon be able to co
me to Glacier Bay! Now, to convince Ellie to come with me. I’ve got an idea to make it happen. Keep praying and keep the letters coming. How I enjoy them.
Grandfather
August 15, 1930
Dear Janey,
It worked! Ellie has agreed to take me to Glacier Bay. Let me tell you how it happened.
Every day I asked her to tell me more stories about her time in Alaska. What a magnificent place you live in, little one. Such a kind and loving community. She showed me how well your papa taught her to play guitar—she’s quite good!
Well, after she told me about little Penny’s illness and how the Tlingits at Hoonah cared for her so compassionately (do you know that word? It means kindly), I told her I was sold! I had to go see it for myself.
She patted my hand and said, “Oh, Grandfather, wouldn’t that be wonderful? I miss it so. I wish you could.”
But I was serious, of course. It took a lot of convincing! Even with the doctor’s approval, I had to promise to take Nurse Schroeder along. (She’s the one who writes the letters for me.)
(Nurse S. here. Guten Tag, Janey. This is the daftest idea Herr Barnett has had so far.)
Don’t mind her. She’s German, but we like her anyway.
Ellie finally agreed to come! Just so she can show me around, share her memories with me. She doesn’t want to bother your papa or brother. Over the past year, she’s missed you all very much, but she doesn’t want to cause any problems with Joseph. I think she’s a bit afraid too. Don’t you? But we know she needn’t be. Your father still loves her. Am I right?
Now, don’t forget, Miss Janey. She and your papa believe it’s not right for them to be together. If that’s the case, then we must accept it. This could all end with their being apart. That happens sometimes, my dear. But we’ll have a great adventure trying to work it all out!
We’ll keep it a secret, yes? Just between the two of us. A surprise! I’m so excited. Not just that maybe, if the Lord so wills, He could bring them back together, but to see your beautiful home, and especially to meet you, my little one.
I’ll see you soon,
Grandfather
P.S. I almost sent this, but I must tell you one more thing that happened. Ellie is so strong and confident; she has decided to move back up to Alaska permanently! Not to marry your papa, but because she fell in love with the place and feels like it’s “calling” her. I’ve heard of the “call of the North.” Isn’t that wonderful? It’ll make our job that much easier.
She plans to homestead her own place and find a way to fit into the community, maybe by making fur shawls. She’s even taking shooting lessons. She’s not doing that great at it, however, but at least she can hold it steady now.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
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Ginny dressed in her dirty jeans and one of Brett’s old flannels shirts that Grandma Ethel had been using as a dust rag. It had one hole near the shirt’s tail, but it didn’t matter. They were going on a walk—or so she’d been told—and none of her things were appropriate.
On their next trip to Juneau, she’d have to fix that. She was sure she could find some casual clothes there. And when she was a little stronger, she’d return to LA—to record a few songs, pack some things, sell even more, and say good-bye to the life she thought she wanted but that no longer fit.
The house seemed empty without Grandma Ethel there. She and Dove Fowler were holding a pinochle game day at Dove’s place. It seemed the folks around Glacier Bay knew how to have fun—and they enjoyed having fun together.
As she waited, Ginny looked in the box. There was only one letter left. The address on the envelope was marked out, and next to it the words: This letter never made it to Grandfather. It was “Returned to Sender” because we had already left.
We? Was that “we” Ellie and Grandfather Peter?
As eager as she was to see Brett, Ginny hoped she still had a few more minutes before he got there. She opened the letter to find out if the “we” was who she thought.
August 28, 1930
Dear Brother Peter,
I feel a conviction to finish the story of my hurting boy, Joseph. It has come to an end, for he’s leaving Glacier Bay.
The last few months have had me scratching my thick head over and over. Each time the Parkers or others invited us to a shindig at their homes, I’d ask Joseph if he wanted to go. He always shrugged, saying he’d go.
Every night, just about, a different friend from the community took time to talk to my boy. Showed an interest, listened, enjoyed him. Slowly, his eyes perked up, even at home.
I remember the first real smile. It’s spring, you know, and Linc’s throwing himself into making a way to get across the river. It all started at Falls Creek, but now he wants to make a pulley to get across our own Salmon River. Well, the three of us were outside, working together on it. Janey was watching the children.
Yeah, I know. I usually discourage his inventions, but some of them have actually turned out all right, so I figured I could offer a hand. We rigged up a rope to hold a person in the pulley. I thought I should be the first to try it, since it could be unsafe.
Well, Joseph was sour as usual until that rope snapped and I fell into the water. When I sludged back, shivering, soaked like a seal, he smiled and sniffed a little chuckle. Then he put his arm around Linc, who was laughing his fool head off.
Brother Peter, that spark in his eyes, smile on his lips, it undid me. Made me think for the first time, he may be okay.
But there’s more, because just at that moment, we had a visitor.
Tinle.
I heard a crack, like someone treading over a branch, and when I turned, there she stood. A shy smile, a humble dress, a basket in her hands. She said hello as I slogged toward her.
My shoulders tightened underneath my drenched work shirt. This girl, she could destroy all Joseph’s progress.
Her eyes flashed toward Joseph, whose back was turned as he worked on the pulley. Then it looked as if she thought better. Lifted the basket. “I brought you a strawberry pie.”
I heard Joseph from behind me say her name. He jogged past me, toward her, then stopped short.
She drew in a breath, lifted her chin. “I wanted to talk to you, if I could.” She dropped her gaze.
Joseph glanced at me.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea….” I started, but stopped. Joseph’s look told me to let him, to trust him. I nodded.
He led her to the talking porch, where it seems all important conversations take place.
That was the first of many encounters between them, all here at our home, with me in close proximity. (I am still a worried father.) Then one night, we invited her to sup with us.
In the summers we do our eating outside on our picnic table, even cook over the campfire. The late light makes for good long outdoor enjoyment. Linc and Janey cooked up a real nice meal of roast duck and potatoes, the scent of which stirred our stomachs.
When Tinle strolled into our yard, I tell you, a light shone in that girl’s eyes I never saw before. Joseph gasped a little. I heard him.
He strolled to her, offered his hand. I noticed his hair was combed, his clothes clean. He led her to our table, topped with the checkerboard tablecloth Ellie made. (She may have struggled with many of the other chores, but sewing she knew.)
We all sat down, and the conversation had an easy feel. I hadn’t realized how heavy a burden this mess with Joseph was until it started to lift. Then Tinle shifted to me, put a hand on my arm. She asked me if she could write to Ellie. I asked her why. Here’s the gist of what she said:
“I want to thank her. She prayed with me, when I was sick. And it gave me hope. I was ashamed of everything.” Here she eyed Joseph. “Ellie told me I could be forgiven. That Jesus, He took my punishment.” Her lips formed a tight smile. “I never thought someone else could be in trouble for me. But once, my auntie told me a story of an old Tlingit who sat in the forest, waiting for a friend.
When his friend came, he was attacked by a bear. His friend, he laid down so the bear would attack him and not his friend. Miss Ellie said it was like that—except Jesus would protect me not just from a bear, but from my own shame. I don’t know why, but I believed her.” She closed her eyes, let the sunlight soak in. “Now everything is different.”
The longing I kept locked away for Ellie came back so strong. She did my job for me. I was too busy being worried about my own pain to reach out to anyone, but she poured her heart out for Tinle.
Now Joseph spoke up. “I want to talk to Miss Ellie too. I’ve been worse than terrible to her.” And will you believe, he confessed his selfishness and jealousy. How she didn’t deserve one bit of the anger he directed toward her. How he resented my being happy when he was so miserable. His eyes glistened, as did mine, I expect. “But Mama wouldn’t want you to be unhappy,” he told me.
I clutched his arm, couldn’t believe his words.
Then Zach crawled on my lap and Janey crept close, holding Penny. “We want you to marry Miss Ellie.”
I studied Joseph’s face. “I can’t. What about all of you? I need to take care of you.”
“You can’t do it alone, Papa.” Joseph tightened his grip on Tinle’s hand. “That’s what I had to learn. I thought I had to struggle through it all alone. Thought I couldn’t let anyone in or I’d get hurt again. But all those nights at the Parkers, each one who talked to me helped me some. Then when Tinle came, she talked to me about Christ, and His love. And…” He gently let go of Tinle’s hand and leaned toward me. “Most of all, you, Papa. You showed me a love I’ll never forget. You sacrificed your own happiness for a rebellious child who took you for granted and gave you nothing but disrespect.” Moisture welled in his eyes. “Thank you, Papa. How can I ever thank you?”
By now I couldn’t hold back the tears, even though I’m supposed to be a tough Alaska man. I tugged him to me. My son who was lost was found. He was dead and was now alive. Praise God! Praise God!
So you can see, Brother Peter, God healed my son, but He used many, not just me.
I wanted you to know, my Joseph is doing well. He’s decided to go to college in Juneau after all and has already left for his first quarter. He and Tinle are writing letters, perhaps to wed someday. We’ll see.
