In 1885, a family of fierce Orthodox Jews carved their way to Juneau, Alaska, from Russia. That same year the Goldsteins opened a mercantile at the town’s muddy docks and welcomed their youngest of eight children, Belle. That daughter would live one hundred years, watching Alaska change from a distant US District into a US Territory into its 49th state.
In 1934, amid the Great Depression, a young actress and widow named Frances Kennan Connor sailed to Juneau by steamship. Classically educated, from an affluent mid-West family, Frances was completely ill-suited for the rugged atmosphere of a gold-mining town. And she stayed.
Perhaps more than anyone, Belle and Frances are responsible for this book in your hands. They were my grandmothers, and they poured stories into me. Belle talked about her life, which was epic and included a kidnapping by Tlingit Indians when she was five years old, and a thirty-years-long feud with her eldest brother, Charles, who rescued her from that kidnapping. (In Juneau the buildings that Belle and Charlie erected continue to glare at each other across Seward Street.) Meanwhile, Frances—ever private about her own personal tragedies—fed me books. A city librarian, she designated a shelf behind the front counter and left adventures there. Lloyd Alexander, Joan Aiken, C. S. Lewis, Madeleine L’Engle. Better still, she was eager to discuss them.
Whether writers are born or made, I can’t say, but it certainly helps if their tribe cherishes stories. As a reader, you’ve surely had similar family experiences, and I pray that you continue that love of words with your kin. And I hope you see Alaska some day. That’s the other great gift bestowed by my family, in particular by my parents, Roger Connor and AnnaBelle Simpson Connor, who loved and served the Last Frontier.
But with any book, other people deserve thanks too; please bear with me.
First, the strangers who become friends offering their knowledge and talent. Two gentlemen with the esteemed Holland America Cruise Line provided invaluable help with security issues: Charlie Mandigo, head of fleet security, and Johan Onnink, manager of nautical operations. From the Princess Line, cruise director Lee Childers went the extra nautical mile, meeting at midnight in the cigar bar to answer still more questions. And the entire crew of the Princess Sapphire who traveled with us to Alaska: well done.
For crime and geology, thanks go to Bruce Hall, retired FBI agent, walking textbook in forensic mineralogy; Martha Holman, much too beautiful to be an FBI agent; cheerful George Johnston of the Washington State Crime lab; lovely Kimberly Garretson, funeral director of the Ketchikan mortuary; Special Agents Kevin Ellsworth and Steven D. Larson in Juneau; and Kemp Woods, owner of the Whimsy Mine in California, who cherishes benitoite. Though not directly related to my research, Victoria Finlay’s superb book Jewels provided much inspiration.
Safe harbors arrived with editors Traci DePree, a novelist of tremendous gifts, and Amanda Bostic, an in-house editor most writers can only dream about. Thanks also to the rest of the crew at Thomas Nelson Publishing. And always, a hearty ahoy to my agent Brian Peterson, a rock of Gibraltar.
After funding, a writer’s biggest challenge is time. My husband and I are fortunate to homeschool our children, but we have several gifted teachers guiding that endeavor. Sara Loudon of Covenant Christian Middle School, and Christine Proctor of Akoloutheo Academy. And Diana McAllister, making sure we don’t fall into rabbit holes. Thank you for living out Iraneus’s wisdom: “The glory of God is man fully alive.”
To the people who touch my life in large and small ways, particularly the stellar mothers at Heritage Homeschool Co-op. For brainstorming ideas: Stephanie Harrison, Debbi Goddeau, Monica Lange, Catherine Madeira, CJ Darlington. To Pastor Mark Driscoll of Mars Hill Church: thanks for your courage. And to the Colllums and Woodburns—instant friends met while standing outside the governor’s mansion in Juneau. And to Governor Sarah Palin, thank you for your gracious attitude.
My love for family knows no bounds. Laughter and goading as needed: the Labellos of Ohio, Raineys of Redway, Quinns of Florida, and the spoking Simpson clan that includes Robbs. Thank you, particularly nieces Maria, Teresa, and Serena. My sons, Daniel and Nico, who make every minute precious: may God bless you for your good humor on deadline, your steady persistence at school, and for not rolling your eyes when your mother forgets everything from keys to shoes. (And when I do forget my shoes, thanks for lending me yours so I can still go into the grocery store.)
The best for last: my husband, Joe. Hunk of Italy. The leader brimming with love and unswerving support—and the fastest wit in the West. With each book, you deserve more thanks. But on this one, thank you for saying, “Some day we should really take a cruise to Alaska . . .”
Soli Deo Gloria.