Where Heaven Begins

by Rosanne Bittner

  “About what we said…a while ago…”

  Elizabeth didn’t know whether to be happy or embarrassed. She’d blurted out those words like a silly schoolgirl.

  “I, uh…I meant what I said,” he continued.

  She sensed this was not the time to throw her arms around him again. “So did I.”

  He smoked quietly before speaking again. “There is one big problem.”

  Elizabeth also watched the fire. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

  “Several problems, actually.”

  “I understand.”

  He nodded. “Good. One is…there are lot of things you need to know, things I…I’ll tell you when I feel ready. Just don’t ask me, all right?”

  “I won’t.”

  “And then there’s…there’s the fact that we couldn’t be more different. You’re a far better person than I am.”

  “Don’t say that. In God’s eyes—”

  “Don’t bring God into this…not right now anyway. I’m just stating a fact, Liz. You’re a good, Christian, young, innocent woman. And I’m…far from good or Christian or innocent. And as far as just suddenly giving up what I do—I don’t know that I’m ready to do that. I need to do a lot of thinking, Liz…and I need you…” He cleared his throat. “I need you to…just keep praying for me. No preaching. Just praying.”

  She’d never loved him more. “You know that I will.”

  He put the cigarette to his lips again, blowing out smoke with another long sigh. “I’m sorry you had to witness tonight’s events.”

  “It couldn’t be helped. Besides, I put the gun in your hand, and as far as I’m concerned, God made me do it. He gave me the opportunity to save you from being shot and me from…who knows what. There is nothing wrong with a person defending himself to protect those he…loves.”

  He took one last drag and threw the cigarette into the fire. “Yeah, well, there’s another problem…the fact that I care about you. We have a lot of traveling to do together yet. I just want you to know that you don’t need to worry…about sometimes having to share the tent. I mean…it’s hard for a man to care about a woman and not want to…show it…if you know what I mean.”

  Elizabeth felt her cheeks growing hot. “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” she answered nervously.

  “I’m just saying that until we reach Dawson, and until I come to terms with the turmoil inside my soul, I don’t intend to spoil something as…pure and perfect as you are. I respect you too much.”

  “Clint, I’m not perfect. No one is perfect.”

  “You are in my eyes. I just think we need to think about all this, to be careful, to wait till you reach your brother and we both are back to a halfway normal life before we make final decisions. And I come with a lot of leftover hatred and vengeance that I still need to deal with. I just wanted you to know that I’m not sure right now that loving each other is enough to cure the ugly side of me. And until I am able to overcome my past, I see no future. I live day to day, and, believe it or not, I did used to pray. I just…I found no answers. And I still blame God for what I’ve lost. For now I’m just glad to know that there is actually a little bit of light at the end of the tunnel. I guess watching the sky made me start thinking about all of this.”

  Elizabeth looked up at the glorious lights again. “There is always light at the end of the tunnel, Clint. The light is the love of Jesus Christ. He understands everything about why we do the things that we do and He wants us to know that He is always waiting with open arms to relieve us of our burdens and our grief. All we have to do is want it and believe in Him.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Well, if I never reach that point, it sure won’t be for lack of you trying, will it?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “It’s God who’s trying. He’s just using me to do it.”

  Clint cleared his throat and rose. “You’d better try to get whatever sleep you can.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll, uh…I’ll sleep right outside the tent.” He finally turned and faced her. “The horses will be all right, now that others know what was going on. Most of the men up here are decent, you know. They aren’t all like Ezra Faine.”

  Elizabeth rose. “How did you know, Clint?”

  He smiled almost sadly. “A man leads the kind of life I have the last few years, he learns how to read men’s eyes. I had Faine figured all along.”

  “And what do you see in my eyes?”

  His previous look of hard anger over Faine quickly softened. “I see light. I see love, not just the love of a woman for a man. It’s more than that. I see someone who is full of trust and joy. Those are two things I haven’t known for years. My biggest joy in life…”

  Visible, sudden tears in his eyes tore at Elizabeth’s heart.

  “…was my son.” He cleared his throat. “Now he’s gone. God would have done better to have had someone carve out my heart while I was still alive than to take my son from me.” He quickly wiped at his eyes.

  “God didn’t cause his death, Clint. You haven’t told me how it happened, but there is no way God had anything to do with it. All God can do when the evil of the world destroys the lives of innocent people is to take those innocents into His arms and bring them more peace and happiness than they ever could have known on earth. And those who caused the kind of pain you’re feeling will suffer horribly, forever, in a burning hell.”

  He stood up and turned away. “I, uh…I think I’ll go check on the horses once more.”

  His voice was gruff and broken. Elizabeth felt such pain in her heart she thought she might be dying, for it was certain he was walking away so that he could cry alone.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.

  —Psalms 107:29

  By the second morning of their stay in the valley, Clint was all business again as they packed up to head for White Pass. Elizabeth tried to ignore the fresh graves in the distance when Clint went to get the now-rested horses.

  Two other parties of men would join them, among them two men with bruised faces, swollen eyes and split lips. Obviously they were the two who had fought two nights before. Whatever the problem had been, they were jovial enough now.

  “They were probably drunk that night,” Clint told Elizabeth on the side. “Men get a little crazy when they drink.”

  “Yes, I know,” she answered teasingly.

  Clint grinned rather sheepishly, and in spite of his better mood, Elizabeth could not help noticing how tired he looked, with circles under his bloodshot eyes. He hadn’t slept much in the last two nights, and she ached for him, wishing he would have let her hold and comfort him. She also noticed he grimaced several times as he loaded their supplies.

  “Is your arm hurting you?”

  “Some.”

  “You should have let me tend to it,” she scolded.

  “The muscle is just sore from being torn by that bullet. I’ve hurt worse.”

  Elizabeth stopped in the middle of securing a rope. “Have you been shot before?”

  “Sure. Comes with the territory.”

  “Clint!”

  “I’m alive, aren’t I? No sense getting upset over it now. Let’s just concentrate on getting ourselves over that pass. I have a bad feeling that I’d rather be shot again.”

  Elizabeth finished securing the tent to Queen. “Are the horses going to be able to find anything to eat up there?”

  “Probably not, once we get past the tree line. We just have to hope they can make it till we get down the other side.”

  Elizabeth petted Queen’s neck. “Poor things. They’ve been so faithful.”

  She looked up at the surrounding mountains as they headed out, several hundred yards behind the first party that left. As they trudged through the marshy land, several men who’d given up passed them going in the opposite direction, most of them wishing them luck…until what was left of the Faine party approached. They, too, h
ad waited an extra day to leave on the long journey back to Skagway.

  Elizabeth felt her heart pound when the four remaining men eyed Clint, warily and with hatred.

  “You fellas have a nice trip back to Skagway,” Clint told them, tipping his hat to them.

  He kept walking, and Elizabeth refused to look at any of them as they passed her by, muttering ugly remarks about Clint and Elizabeth. She told herself it didn’t matter what such men thought of her and kept walking, glad Clint had not heard the remark. He was too tired and hurt to be getting into a row with four men. After several minutes she looked back to see they were still walking, having already passed the party of men behind her and Clint.

  For the entire day they climbed…and climbed, following a narrow mountain trail ever upward in an endless winding until it seemed they would surely reach the top of the world. By late afternoon they were walking in snow, and by evening the pathway opened onto a wide slope above the tree line where the snow was even deeper.

  Here again was an area where many had camped. And again they found dead horses and dogs, abandoned sleds and supplies of all kinds. Crates of food were broken open, their remaining contents rotted. Some horse carcasses had been ripped to shreds by wolves.

  Clint stopped. There was just enough daylight left to see the great, rising whiteness before them, with a well-worn pathway leading up between mountain peaks. A few men could be seen close to the summit. To see how small they looked only accented how long a climb it was.

  “We’ll camp here tonight and make the climb tomorrow,” Clint told her. “I just hope the horses can paw through the snow enough to find a little grass to nibble on.”

  Wind howled menacingly in the surrounding mountains, and the party ahead of them was already making camp. Another glance above alarmed her, for the black dots of men Elizabeth had seen just moments ago were gone, shrouded by what looked like a mean snowstorm. A sudden wind billowed snow into their faces.

  “Let’s get the tent set up quick,” Clint told her. “Looks like we’re going to get it tonight.”

  “Clint, those men higher up—”

  “We can’t do anything about it. Just pray they survive up there.” He hurriedly untied the tent. “We’ll have to eat raw sweet potatoes or something like that. We’ll never get a good fire going in this wind. No sense wasting what little wood we have left.”

  Elizabeth helped him get the tent set up, not an easy feat with the wind trying its best to blow it back down. The howling grew so intense that they had to yell to each other to be heard. There was no time now to worry about any of the others nearby. Elizabeth could not even see any of them. At times the snow blew so hard she could hardly see Clint.

  “Clint, the horses! You didn’t even get a chance to tie burlap around their feet!”

  “Too late now,” he yelled back. “Just get our blankets, and that wolf-skin jacket I bought you.” He was already loosening his own blankets and a heavy deerskin coat lined with rabbit that he’d brought for the colder weather. “Get your leggings on,” he ordered, his voice carrying on the wind.

  Elizabeth obeyed, hurriedly taking down a large leather bag that held some of her clothes. She managed to pull out deerskin leggings Clint had insisted she bring along. Now she knew why. The deer hair was still on them, and when she pulled them on she could immediately feel how well they blocked the coldness of the wind. She tied them at the waist and pulled on her heavier coat, all the while wondering if the tent might get buried in snow before they even got inside it. She pulled down another sack, the one that held the sweet potatoes, and unhooked a canteen of water from Queen. Then she walked closer to the front of the horse and held Queen’s head for a moment.

  “I love you, Queeny. You’ll be okay, I promise. I’ve got to go in the tent now. I’m so sorry to leave you out here in this cold wind.” Her only consolation was that Queen had grown an extremely thick, long winter coat. She could only pray it would be enough to keep the horse alive.

  “Hurry!” Clint ordered.

  She pulled on the wolf-skin coat and slung the canteen over her shoulder, then hurried over to the tent. Clinging to the sack of sweet potatoes and the one with more of her clothes inside, she knelt down to crawl inside with Clint. They lay down on a floor of snow, feeling nothing through the heavy animal skins they wore. Elizabeth thanked God that Clint had insisted they buy them.

  “Stay close for warmth,” Clint told her. “I think we’re in for a good one. We might be stranded here for a day or two till the weather clears enough to go on.”

  “I can’t believe how fast it hit,” Elizabeth answered, setting the two sacks and her canteen at the side of the tent.

  “Turn with your back to me and I’ll wrap myself around you,” Clint told her. “We’ll put the blankets over us and hope that along with our body warmth we’ll get through this.”

  Elizabeth did as he asked, and she felt safe and protected as he moved one arm around her and bent his knees into the backs of her legs.

  “We might as well try to sleep. There’s nothing else we can do for now. Let’s just hope we wake up again.”

  The prospect of freezing to death would normally be frightening, but Elizabeth felt no fear in Clint Brady’s arms. And if she died right here, she couldn’t imagine a better way to meet her Lord than in the arms of the man she loved, lying on top of the world in God’s country.

  The wind moaned and howled, and the tent flapped wildly. Snow whispered and swished outside, and for the moment it felt as though she and Clint were the only two people who existed in the world.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  And the rain descended…and the winds blew, and beat upon That house; and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock.

  —St. Matthew 7:25

  A relentless wind howled with such force that Elizabeth thought nothing of allowing Clint to pull her curled body closer against his own for warmth. This was not a time to worry about what others might think about lying together like this, and God certainly must understand why they had no choice. Protocol and propriety had no place when it came to survival, and right now Elizabeth was not so sure God did not intend for them to die right here. After all, it was His choice when to bring His children home.

  They lay buried under every blanket they owned, with no choice but to wait for the storm outside to subside. Lying there in Clint’s strong arms, his broad chest pressing against her back, her head tucked under his chin, brought to light something Elizabeth had never realized: how easy it would be to let this man love and protect her for the rest of her life, how nice it was to feel so totally safe, and how easy it would be to give herself to this man if he truly wanted her that way, wanted to marry her…if only he would give himself back to the Lord and give up the life he was leading.

  She knew he was still not ready for that, and he never would be if he kept refusing to tell her about his past, refusing to open up to her fully, refusing to let God back into his life and heart and soul so that the healing could begin.

  Snow whispered around the tent, and both knew it was building dangerously. They were most likely half buried by now.

  “I’m so worried about the horses, Clint. The poor things.” She pulled a blanket over half her face to warm her nose.

  “We could end up buried here so long we’d have to eat them anyway,” he answered.

  “Clint Brady!”

  “Just thinking practically. In circumstances like this you can’t let compassion and emotion take precedence over survival, but don’t worry just yet. This could end by morning, and instinct will cause them to try to find a place to burrow down out of the wind. Besides, they had some pretty thick winter hair growth already. Let’s just hope it’s enough to keep them from freezing to death.”

  An extra strong gust of wind caused the tent to flap wildly.

  “What if the tent blows away?”

  Clint hugged her tighter. “Then I’ll be your tent.”

  Elizabeth smiled.

  “
Keep talking, Liz,” he told her. “We should try to stay awake as long as possible. And keep wiggling your toes and fingers.”

  She curled her toes into the soles of her boots, wishing they were heated. “I guess I could tell you the other reason I ran away.”

  “Ran away? You never put it that way before.”

  “Well, as I think about it, I realize now that’s what I was doing, although I truly did want to find Peter anyway. After our father was murdered, Peter took over his church, then hired another minister and came up here last year. My mother got very ill and died. I cared for her through her illness, and then after she died, it left such a big space inside of me.” She sighed.

  “You don’t have to describe that feeling to me.”

  More snow swished across the top of the tent. “I’m sure I don’t.” She squeezed the strong forearms that were wrapped around her middle and proceeded to tell him about living with the Reverend Selby and his wife.

  “It was not such a bad life, but I was so lonely after losing both my parents and with Peter gone. I mean, I had friends in the church and all, but it just wasn’t the same.”

  “Then I understand why you’d want to find Peter, but why do you call it running away?”

  Elizabeth waited a moment to answer, hating the ugly memories. “I—Reverend Selby…turned out not to be such a proper Christian man…once Mama died.”

  She felt Clint tense up. “I don’t even want to mention what I think you mean by that,” he told her.

  “You don’t need to. I’m sure you’re fully understanding what I’m saying.” Her eyes teared at the memory of her devastation in realizing that not all professed Christians were what they claimed to be. Compared to the reverend, in many ways Clint was much more Christian. That experience and this trip had opened her eyes to so many things, especially the error of her ways in how she judged people.