Forever Hidden

by Tracie Peterson

  “I’m praying he’ll awaken soon. The good Lord has seen us through all these years. Papa said he was able to put away quite a bit for our future for when the gold plays out, as it almost always does.” She suppressed a cough and cleared her throat. “I should be going. The café is expecting me.”

  John helped her up to the driver’s seat. “I’ll unhitch the wagon for you when you get back. I’ll be watching for you, so you can return to your father as soon as you can.”

  Melissa picked up the lines and cast him a smile. “It’s kind of you to take care of it. We appreciate all you do around here to keep things going.” She snapped the leather lightly against the horse’s back. “Step up, Dolly.”

  The bottles of cream rattled against their metal crate as the horse started for town. Melissa gave a quick look over her shoulder to make sure everything was secured. It looked fine.

  Once she was out of earshot of the farm, she tried to take a deep breath to clear her lungs. When spring thaw came, it always released something into the air that caused her more breathing problems. She coughed and coughed, trying hard to rid herself of the wheezing. It didn’t do much good.

  Gazing skyward, she fought the tightness in her chest. If relief didn’t come soon, she’d have an attack. The doctor told her she could even die from such a thing. Taking a glance over her shoulder, she checked to make sure she’d gone far enough from the house, then took a medical cigarette out of her pocket and stuck it between her lips. Next she pulled out a match and struck it against the wooden seat and then lit the cigarette. After several long puffs, her chest loosened and the panic went away.

  Since she was going into town, maybe she should stop and see the doctor? Dolly whinnied softly and nodded her head, as if agreeing.

  “I don’t need to hear from you on the matter.” No. Her first priority was to sell her items and get back as quickly as possible.

  Melissa glanced toward the water. The Sound was pretty much free of ice now, and any day another ship would appear bringing more gold-hungry passengers.

  Lord, I’m going to need my strength, what with Papa sick and the farm needing so much of our time and efforts. I need to stay healthy—to be free to help whoever needs me most.

  God knew what she was facing. Everything would be fine. She took another puff and then put the cigarette out so she could save it for later. No use wasting the costly medicine. She set it on the seat to let it cool off before she shoved it back into her pocket.

  But after two breaths, the tightening started again.

  Warmth floated over his face. Where did it come from? Chuck tried to push through the fog in his mind. Nothing was clear. He couldn’t see.

  Why couldn’t he see?

  Voices hummed around him, but they seemed so far away. What were they saying?

  The murmurs became a bit louder until he recognized a voice. But whose was it? It was a woman’s voice.

  “I’m so worried, Whitney. The doctor is supposed to come back today and I still haven’t been able to get any response out of your grandfather.”

  Several coughs followed the words.

  “But he’s still breathing, Mama. Look. His eyes are even moving under his eyelids. That’s got to be a good sign. Right?”

  “This time it seems so much worse. I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling.”

  “Why don’t we pray? You know that Havyn and Madysen and John—we’ve all been praying.” The sweet voice belonged to . . . who? He couldn’t place it. The other voice had called her Whitney. Who was Whitney? He should know. It felt like it was on the edge of his mind, ready to burst forward. Why couldn’t he remember?

  Their voices hushed and he couldn’t understand them anymore. All of a sudden it was like he was floating. Nothing in his body obeyed his commands. Nothing moved. Where was he?

  He turned his face toward the warmth—and a flash of memory hit of turning his face toward the window in the mornings when it was summer. The sun would shine in on his bed. He must be in bed? But why? What was wrong with him?

  “Good afternoon, ladies.” A man’s voice broke through his thoughts. “How is our patient this afternoon?”

  “Hello, Doctor. I’m afraid I haven’t been able to wake him. But I’m hopeful. He’s breathing a bit deeper now. That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Hmm. Let me examine him and I will let you all know. Would you mind getting me a basin of hot water, Miss Powell? Your mother can help me a few minutes until you return.”

  “Of course, Dr. Kingston. I’ll be right back.”

  “And bring a few small towels back with you, please?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.” The voice was so sweet. Chuck was sure in his heart that he knew who was speaking.

  “Papa? Can you hear me?” The first voice that he recognized. She’d spoken a moment ago. She called him Papa. His daughter? He couldn’t picture her face in his mind.

  “Mr. Bundrant? It’s Dr. Kingston. I’m here to check on you and do an examination. So you may feel some discomfort.”

  A doctor. He must be sick. In bed. But why? And why couldn’t he open his eyes? Putting all of his strength and energy into getting his eyes to open, he felt himself moan and heard the sound.

  Why did he feel like this? What was going on?

  “Doctor! Did you hear that?” His daughter sounded excited. And hopeful.

  “This is good news. Let’s see if he responds to any stimuli.” The doctor was doing something. Metal objects clanked together somewhere across the room.

  “All right, Mr. Bundrant. Let’s see if you can feel this.”

  Something sharp poked his foot. That was his foot, wasn’t it? It seemed familiar, but it wouldn’t move.

  Then it poked the other foot. Yes, that was definitely his feet.

  He tried to make another sound. Maybe if he put all his effort forth, he could show them he was here and could hear them. For several seconds he pushed. Then, “Mmmmmmmmmah” escaped his mouth. He felt his lips move. Then something wet and warm dripped down his chin. He could feel that!

  “Mr. Bundrant! You know we’re here? You feel this?” Another poke.

  The only sound he could make was “mmmahhhh.” It sounded horrible.

  “He feels it! I think he can hear us too!” His daughter sounded . . . delighted.

  More descriptive words came back to his brain. Thoughts started to bounce around. He had a farm . . . didn’t he? For some reason, he could picture himself milking cows. Throwing hay in the barn. That must be significant. It must be.

  “I believe he’s beginning to come out of his comatose state.” The doctor was speaking.

  “Oh, praise God!”

  “But don’t get your hopes up, Mrs. Powell. I’ve been doing a good deal of reading in my medical references, and when a patient has suffered not one but two bouts of apoplexy, the outcome might be quite limited—disappointing, even.”

  “I understand what you are saying, Doctor, but he’s alive. As long as he is breathing, Papa will keep fighting. You don’t know my father very well yet, but he’s about as stubborn as they come.” Something touched his shoulder. “Right, Papa? We’re going to fight this. We’re going to do everything we can to help you get back on your feet.”

  The words came over him like a calming blanket. The fear that had been at every edge of his mind slipped away. If only he could remember . . .

  Fourteen

  The fireplace roared. Even though the sun was still out, the nights were quite cool. Madysen tucked her feet up under her and waited for her mother and sisters. After dinner, they were all supposed to discuss with John the matter of money. And figure out what to do.

  This wasn’t the kind of discussion Madysen enjoyed. She’d rather talk about music. In fact, math had been her least favorite subject. But Mama had called the meeting, and so she knew she had to be a part. As an adult and a member of the family, she had to pull her weight, just like everyone else.

  Whitney and Havyn walked into the
room together. The grim look on their eldest sister’s face made Madysen’s throat tighten.

  “I can’t find anything from Granddad anywhere that states he has an account at the bank. Neither can I find any other money or gold.”

  “Why haven’t we asked these questions before?” Havyn looked like she was blaming herself for it all. “I mean, we’ve relied far too heavily on Granddad for everything ever since Dad died.”

  Madysen bit her lip. “I know. I’m feeling the same way. He wanted to take care of us, and we got too comfortable with that arrangement. Now, I feel like we’ve taken advantage of him.” A tear stung at the corner of her eye. “He’s laid up and we don’t know for how long. We need to do more to help.”

  “I agree.” Havyn looked to their older sister.

  Mama came in the room. “Well, there is a bit of good news. Granddad moaned a few times, and the doctor thinks he might come out of his comatose state soon.” She sat beside Madysen and patted her knee. “The doctor agreed to sit with him for a little bit while we chat.”

  Grabbing her mother’s hand, she squeezed it. “I know this has been so hard. Can I do anything for you?”

  Her mother’s smile warmed her heart. “Always my merciful one.” She put a hand on Madysen’s cheek. “Everything you girls have done to help me with your grandfather has been wonderful. I simply need rest.” The look on her face said there was more to it, but Madysen decided to wait for now. At least until she could be alone with Mama.

  John walked into the room, a ledger in his hands. “This is all I have to go on. It appears that everything is in order. But this only shows the orders, what the farm has provided, and who has paid. There’s got to be another one somewhere. One that shows the expenses and payroll.”

  Mama leaned forward. “So does it show that the farm is doing all right?”

  “As far as I can tell, yes. But I have no idea how your father paid for things. When we need supplies—and I have an order that needs to be made—I’m sure I can put it on account. I’ve done that before, but I can’t do that with the workers. The milkers need to be paid, and I don’t have any idea how to do that. Your father always took care of that, and he didn’t share with me. Since he’s the boss, I didn’t question it one bit.”

  Whitney had her hands on her hips. “As foreman, shouldn’t you—”

  “Whitney, please.” Mama held up a hand. “No one is to blame. Your grandfather was a private man. He kept his business to himself—and it’s no wonder after all his years in mining towns. But that’s no reason to accuse John. He’s done a wonderful job.” She lifted her chin and took a breath. “We need to figure out something. Dr. Kingston is having to come out several times a week. The medicine he’s prescribed is quite expensive.” Mama glanced at each one of them. “He asked me earlier about paying his fees.”

  John’s brow was furrowed. “The money that is coming in from all of our customers now could go toward the doctor’s fees and the medicine, but that doesn’t help us in the meantime to order supplies or pay the workers. Eventually there will be enough for everything, but that doesn’t help us now.” He frowned.

  “Do you know how many workers we have and how many hours they’ve worked?” Mama tapped her fingers on the chair’s arm.

  “I was just making a list earlier today, but I left it in my room.”

  Mama looked away from John for a moment. “Whit, would you mind getting John’s list while we talk?”

  The look on Whitney’s face was like she’d sucked on a pickle. “Sure.” She turned to John. “Are you all right with me going into your room, Mr. Roselli?”

  He waved a hand. “Of course, it’s not a problem. I believe I left it on the little table under the window. It was two pages, if I recall.”

  That the man treated Whitney with such grace, even after all her little barbs about everything, amazed Madysen.

  Whitney turned and left.

  A long sigh left Mama’s lips. “I’m sorry for all this. I hope Whitney hasn’t offended you—she’s just used to helping her grandfather run things. It isn’t you. It’s the situation, I’m sure. I wish I knew—”

  “What’s important”—Havyn cut off their mother—“is that we all work together to figure out how to keep the farm running and the workers compensated. And Granddad’s doctor’s bills paid. This doesn’t have to all be on your shoulders, Mama.”

  “That’s right, Mama. We’re all in this together.” Madysen watched her mother’s face pale. Something hadn’t been right with her lately. She’d been out of breath several times, even had several coughing fits. And she’d lost the color in her cheeks.

  Mama nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate all of you . . . very much. John, please, what other thoughts do you have on all of this?”

  “Well, since I don’t know where he kept the money, I’m afraid I don’t know what to say. I could go without a salary for a while. Since my basic needs are taken care of here. I wouldn’t mind if we just wanted to keep track of it, and when Chuck recovers, he could pay me.”

  “That is quite a sacrifice, John. And we greatly appreciate it. I think maybe we should take you up on your offer, at least on a week-to-week basis, until we get things in hand.” Mama patted her knee again and then stood up. “The girls and I can cut our spending to the barest of necessities. Then we will need to take matters into our own hands to keep the farm running. Papa never said anything about the farm being in dire straits or out of money. And if you look around, it’s clear to see that it is quite successful. I just don’t have any idea where he keeps the money.”

  “Would it be at the bank? Perhaps—as his daughter—you could go in and speak to the manager? See if there’s any way to work with the funds until your father is coherent again?” John’s furrowed brow displayed his concern. “Wait, I remember he told me he didn’t think much of banks.”

  Mama shook her head. “Papa has never been fond of financial institutions of any kind. So I’m not sure he has much there. If any at all.” She stood up and gripped her fingers together. A sure sign this was stressful for her. “This is all my fault. I haven’t helped him like I should. I’ve been so focused on training you girls in music and your education that I’ve been perfectly content to just let him handle everything. And now I don’t know what to do. How long will it take him to recover? Will the farm be able to make it? What if he never gets back to the man he was before?” She put a hand to her brow and rubbed it.

  Watching her walk around the room, Madysen could only imagine herself in her mother’s shoes. This was so difficult. Mama had been by Granddad’s side since he’d first collapsed.

  Havyn spoke up. “We’ll take care of this, Mama. We will. Between us girls and John, I’m sure we can deal with the farm side of things. You just focus on helping Granddad get better.”

  “I agree.” Madysen stood and went to wrap her arm around their mother’s shoulders. “In fact, we’ve had an offer to sing and play at the Roadhouse every night—except Sundays, of course—and we have been bringing in a lot of tips from that. It could bring in a lot more money if we added four nights a week. I think we’re all willing to do whatever we need to, to ensure that the workers get paid and that John can fulfill orders.”

  “Really?” Their mother’s face relaxed a bit. “You’d do that?”

  “If it’s not too much to leave you alone every night?” This was their biggest concern: leaving Mama alone. What if something happened? What if she needed help? What if the worst happened, and Granddad died? She would be all alone. Of course John would be there, but it wouldn’t be the same as having her girls.

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. I can’t foresee there being any problems. Especially since Papa’s not able to do much right now.”

  “John will be here,” Madysen reminded her.

  “I thought maybe John would drive you back and forth to the Roadhouse like your granddad used to.” Mama looked at their foreman. “If you don’t mind? I know that cuts your days short. I would feel better
about them going into town.”

  “I could make two trips if things get too busy. Although, I’m sure you would rather I stay and be there for your daughters.”

  Their mother nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  “But what if you need help?” The thought of Mama all alone made her heart ache. “Could we ask Amka to come and help you?”

  The creases in Mama’s forehead relaxed. “That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll ask her tomorrow.” She lifted her chin. “But as soon as your grandfather starts to get well, I may need to keep John here with me to keep the cantankerous old man in line.”

  “Well then, John can just drop us off and pick us back up.” Havyn gave a firm nod. “That way we’ll have protection from those men who like to keep us lingering at the Roadhouse after our performances, and you can still have his help, if that’s all right with John, of course.” The way Havyn looked at their foreman made Madysen grin.

  “It’s not a problem. I already offered.” His look back at Havyn left little doubt in her mind: He was smitten with her sister. When things weren’t so stressful, she’d have to talk to Havyn about it.

  Mama gave a smile. “I guess we have a plan, then. God is good.”

  Madysen’s heart warmed. It was so wonderful how Mama was always able to see the positive, even if that seemed impossible at the moment.

  “Well then.” Madysen looked at Havyn. “The three of us girls will work each night at the Roadhouse after we’ve made sure that all of our chores are done around here.”

  John leaned back slightly in his chair. At least they had a bit of direction now. He didn’t want Mrs. Powell to have to bear the burden of all this. It was overwhelming enough to him.

  Mrs. Powell smoothed her skirt. “I know we probably still have a lot to discuss, but I find I’m quite weary. I think I’ll go check on Papa and then probably just go to bed.” She hugged Havyn, and then Madysen. “Please tell Whitney I’ve gone back to your granddad’s room.”

  They’d set up a cot for her in her father’s room, so hopefully she’d get some much-needed rest.