by Beth Wiseman
When the baby finally drifted to sleep, Brooke laid her back in the portable playpen and rushed to join the others. Her heart skipped a beat when she found no one in the bathroom—not even Meghan. She peeked into the closet, where a glowing light shone from the hole in the floor.
“Are you all okay?”
“Yes!” Spencer yelled from below.
“Hurry!” Meghan squealed. “Come see.”
Brooke carefully made her way down the steps and turned to find herself in a long narrow room, maybe twenty feet by ten feet. The flashlight beam bounced off concrete walls. Metal shelves lined the walls, stocked with dusty canned goods, an old radio, boxes that had been chewed at the corners, lanterns, and what looked to be an old generator. Two dusty shotguns leaned in the corner.
“Stay away from those guns.” Brooke latched onto both Meghan’s and Spencer’s arms.
Spencer tried to wiggle free. “What’s that?” He pointed to a chest on the shelf, and Owen shined the light on it as they all moved forward.
“Maybe it’s full of gold, like from pirates or something!” Spencer leaned closer.
Owen brushed away dirt from atop the chest, which indeed did look like a miniature pirate’s chest—about two feet long and a foot deep. “It’s locked.” He stuck the flashlight between his arm and waist, keeping the light on the box, and picked it up. “Doesn’t weigh much.”
Brooke jumped and Meghan screamed when Owen’s flashlight went dim for a few seconds. He banged it on his hand, but the effort only brought a trickle of light. “This flashlight is about done.” He motioned toward the ladder. “Let’s all get out of here before we don’t have any light.”
They clustered around the staircase, but Denny lagged behind, holding a lit cigarette lighter above one of the boxes on the shelf. “Books. Lots and lots of books. Fantastic.”
Owen hurried Denny along. Once everyone but Owen had made it back up the stairs into the bathroom, he handed up the trunk and climbed out as well.
They all hurried to the living room. Owen set the trunk down on the coffee table, then hurried over to the playpen.
“She’s still breathing,” he whispered to Brooke when he returned. She just smiled, remembering those moments of watching her children sleep when they were babies.
Hunter was fiddling with the lock. “I think we’re gonna have to break this thing.”
“Brilliant minds think alike.” They looked up to see Denny in the doorway, a hammer in his hand.
It took a few swings, but the lock eventually broke. They all gathered close as Owen removed the fragments of lock and reached to open the trunk.
Travis breezed into Brooke’s mind momentarily. He’d always been fascinated by the idea of a bunker in the Hadley mansion, and he would have loved to be here. But he wasn’t here, and Brooke realized she could accept that. God was in charge, and there could be no regrets right now. Just hope for the future.
Owen carefully lifted the lid of the trunk, and they all crowded closer to see inside.
“Doesn’t look like pirates’ gold to me.” Spencer shrugged as Owen lifted a handful of folded papers.
Owen picked up one of the unsealed envelopes. “Letters.” He flipped through a few. “Letters between Adeline and John Hadley.”
“That’s it?” Spencer let out an exasperated gasp. “Just a bunch of letters? That’s not a treasure.”
Denny was still flipping through them. “The oldest is postmarked 1938. Some are from San Antonio. Lots of ’em from John in Smithville to Adeline in San Antonio, but some from her to him. And a few of them are addressed to John in the service. This one is still sealed.”
“Adeline was from San Antonio. She must have written those letters to John while they were courting.” Brooke was lost in the past, picturing that long-ago love story playing out through the mail. Then she thought about Adeline’s letter to the attorney. “All my worldly treasures are of the heart and buried beneath this house that love built.” But I wonder why she didn’t take them when she left.
Meghan walked to the playpen, clearly bored with the treasure. “Can I hold Lauren, Mommy? She’s awake.”
Brooke scooped up Lauren, who was yawning. “Sit down on the couch, and I’ll give her to you.” She eased the baby into Meghan’s arms. “Can you sit here and hold her while I go get her bottle ready?”
When Brooke returned, Owen, Hunter, and Denny had each pulled out one of the letters and were reading them back and forth to one another. “What are you guys doing?” They all looked up with wide-eyed innocence. “Those letters aren’t ours to read. They belong to Mr. Hadley, and we need to take them to him.”
She walked to the couch and handed the bottle to Meghan. “Only this much, then we need to burp her, plus she probably needs her diaper changed.”
She turned back to the men. Hunter and Owen were stuffing their letters back in the envelopes, but Denny was still reading. He wore a pair of black glasses she hadn’t seen before.
Brooke scowled at him and cleared her throat, but Denny held up one finger and didn’t look up.
“She’s right, Uncle Denny.” Owen stood up from where he was sitting on the floor and looked down at the chest on the coffee table. “These aren’t ours to read.”
Denny pulled off the glasses slowly, then looked up at Owen from his spot on the floor. “Well, well. Our heroine in this story, Mrs. Adeline Hadley, was pregnant when she fled town. Listen to this. It’s postmarked November 1942.” Denny put his glasses back on and read the letter out loud. Brooke was too curious to tell him not to.
“’My dearest John, With each passing day, my heart grows heavier, and I pray that God will send you home to me. I wonder if you will ever know that we are with child, since all of my letters with mention of it have been returned. I pray this one will reach you. As my womb grows, so does my despair. I was so happy the day I got the news. I thought our dreams for a family would finally come true. But you are somewhere in the Pacific, far from my arms, and I can’t help but worry if I’ll ever see you again.
“’Forgive me my fears, my love. But I have tried so hard to be cheerful, to put on a good face, when all the while my heart is breaking. I wander around this big house you built for us, longing for you to return to me and this precious little one who is growing inside me. My days are long, my nights even longer. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night, reach for you, then remember that you aren’t there.’”
Brooke swallowed hard as she thought about how many times she’d done that exact same thing. The room was silent as Denny went on.
“’My hired man helps me with the garden and repairs on the house, trying his best to keep it tended until your return. I reckon that without him this place would be as run-down as many others whose owners are off to war. I don’t know what I’d do without Jesse Lewis. He feels bad that the army wouldn’t take him, but he is doing true service here on the home front. I know you will want to shake his hand when you return—and that must be soon, my love. I want to be strong, but some days it’s very hard.
“’So come home to me, John. Be brave—I know you can’t be anything else—but remember you are needed here as well and be careful. Our child needs a father. And I need my husband. Your loving wife, Adeline.’”
Brooke took Lauren from Meghan’s arms and put her on her shoulder to burp as she fought the tears building in her eyes. She never knew he returned for her after all.
Owen paced the living room, shaking his head. “There was no mention of the pregnancy in Adeline’s letter to the attorney. John Hadley never knew he had a child.”
Denny stuffed the letter back in the envelope. “That’s how it appears. But Brooke’s right. These all belong to John Hadley, as bittersweet as it is. Didn’t you tell me when I first moved in that he was still alive? That’s pretty amazing in itself.”
“I don’t know Mr. Hadley personally, but he lives in the same retirement place where my Mom was.” Brooke gently patted Lauren on the back. “Mom said he prett
y much kept to himself—he’s in his nineties, after all—but they knew each other to say hello. She said there was such a big production when he returned after the war; he was treated like quite the war hero. But as things settled down, he kind of withdrew into himself. Just ran his business, never talked much about himself or the war. Or Adeline.”
“Is he strong enough to hear about all of this, do you think?”
“I don’t know, but I can find out. I think we need to give him the letters, though. There might still be time for him to connect with some of his family. Oh, and, Owen, I think Lauren needs a diaper change. Where do you keep the fresh ones?”
He hurried out of the room while Hunter and Denny began packing the letters back into the trunk. Meghan was now lying on the couch, seemingly bored with the happenings around her. Even Spencer was yawning. Brooke knew this wasn’t the type of treasure he’d been hoping for.
But family really was a true treasure, wasn’t it? Love was a treasure. Brooke scanned the room and realized she was seeing riches in abundance. Even Scooter, the black cat, seemed aware of it. He’d taken to staying in the house and was curled up in the far corner.
Hunter crossed his ankles and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Man, that’s one pitiful story.” He yawned as he stretched his legs out farther. “Funny, I think my great-grandma and grandpa was named Adeline and Jesse.”
Brooke glanced at Owen and Denny, who seemed to be holding their breath the way she was. “Hunter, do you know where your great-grandparents lived?”
Shifting his weight in the chair, Hunter yawned again. “Yeah. I remember Dad talking about his grandpa, but he died real young, before I was born. He said I came from a long line of boys, no girls.” He shrugged. “Anyway, they lived in Wichita Falls, Texas, way up there close to Oklahoma. Dad even grew up there, but then he moved to Austin and met my mom, and she was from La Grange. Don’t know why they ended up in Smithville, though, except that Grandma lived—”
“Son?” Denny had walked over to Hunter and was looking down at him. “Are you not putting this together?”
Hunter sat up straight, a confused expression on his face. “What?”
Denny leaned closer. “For a sharp kid, you’re not acting too bright. If Adeline Hadley was pregnant with John Hadley’s baby and ended up in Wichita Falls, and if her hired man—Jesse Lewis—disappeared too, don’t you think it’s possible that Adeline and Jesse Lewis are the same ones talked about in these letters?”
Hunter crinkled his brow. “You mean—”
“Yup. You could be John Hadley’s great-grandson.”
Thirty-One
The following Monday Brooke took Hunter to the Oaks to speak with John Hadley. Brooke had explained the situation on the phone to the old man. Mr. Hadley had actually started crying while they were talking, so Brooke was prepared for an emotional meeting between Hunter and his potential great-grandfather. Hunter was skeptical that he could actually be related to a war hero, someone with honor and a respected background.
John Hadley met them at the door of his apartment. He was a tall man, only slightly bent over his walker, with wispy gray hair under a Houston Astros baseball cap. His blue jeans rose high above his hips, held up by a brown belt, and his dark green shirt brought out kind green eyes beneath bushy gray brows. His face was a road map of a long life, but when he smiled, there was a tenderness that made Brooke want to rush into his arms. Instead, she extended her hand.
“Mr. Hadley, I’m Brooke Holloway.” She turned to Hunter and smiled. “And this is Hunter.”
“Did you say Hunter?” He reached up to adjust something, and Brooke realized he wore a hearing aid.
“Yes, Hunter. The one I told you about?”
Hunter reached out to grasp Mr. Hadley’s hand. “Hello, sir.” His lip was trembling, and Brooke knew he was struggling not to cry.
Mr. Hadley had tears in his eyes as well. He gazed at Hunter for a long time, then slowly maneuvered his walker around so they could enter his small apartment, furnished much like the one Brooke’s mother had lived in. A plate of cookies sat on the coffee table, along with three glasses of water.
“I didn’t make the cookies,” he said, grinning. “Nellie Rutter in number 219 brings me treats.” He winked at Hunter. “I think she fancies me.” He chuckled. “Imagine that. At my age.” He motioned for Brooke and Hunter to sit down, then carefully lowered himself into a chair. Once they were seated, Brooke handed him the chest with the letters, and his eyes behind their thick glasses filled instantly. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”
She’d already explained—and apologized—about the letters they had read, including the one that held news of the pregnancy. She had also mentioned the possible connection between him and Hunter.
“What about my son or daughter? My grandchildren?” he asked now, smiling at Hunter. “Are there more like this handsome fellow?”
Brooke glanced at the boy and waited, but Hunter nodded for her to do the talking. “I’m so sorry to tell you that your son died young, Mr. Hadley. His name was Richard Lewis, and he got cancer at an early age.”
“Oh.” A little of the old man’s eagerness deflated. “That’s too bad. I would’ve liked to know my boy.”
“Your grandson is alive, but I’m afraid he’s in a correctional institution, so I don’t know—”
“But I ain’t bad. I promise.” Hunter leaned forward. “I have me a good job.”
John Hadley stared long and hard at Hunter, then chuckled. “You know, I think you got my eyes, son.” He laughed. “Not everyone is blessed with these green eyes we both got.” He pointed to Hunter’s head. “And my mother’s hair was exactly that same color.”
Hunter seemed to be holding his breath, and Brooke worried he might have another panic attack. She was having a hard time holding herself together too. But there was only one way to be sure if all of their speculations were on target.
“Mr. Hadley, would you be willing to do a DNA test to prove that Hunter is indeed your great-grandson?” Brooke paused, unsure how he’d feel about that. Was he even aware of what DNA tests were?
The older man shrugged. “I guess so, but it’s not really necessary. I know this young man is my great-grandson—I see it in his face. But why not make it official.” He reached for a cookie.
Hunter wasn’t smiling, and his lips were pressed firmly together. “What about my father? Do you want to meet him too?”
Mr. Hadley stared at Hunter for a long time, almost to the point of it being awkward. Finally he said, “I believe I would like to get to know you first. How does that sound?”
Hunter lit up like a jack-o’-lantern, his crooked teeth stretched into the biggest smile Brooke had ever seen on him. “That sounds really good, sir.”
“Mr. Hadley, we can do the test tomorrow if you’d like. The results usually take three to ten working days, but I know someone at the hospital, and I think we can get the results sooner.” She glanced at Hunter, who was still grinning. “However the results come out, the owner of your former home—Owen Saunders—would like you to join us for dinner Saturday night. I’d be happy to pick you up. We thought you might like to see the way he has restored your old homestead.”
Brooke couldn’t read the man’s expression at first, but then he seemed to force a smile. “Maybe I can get back to you about that. Not sure I’m ready for that.”
“I understand.” Brooke was disappointed, but she supposed they should have expected that. Visiting the home he’d built for the only woman he ever loved might be too much.
They chatted for a while longer, then Brooke said they should probably go. Mr. Hadley asked if Hunter could stay, and Brooke just smiled and said, “Of course. Just call me when you’re ready to go, and I’ll pick you up.”
Hunter held up his new cell phone. “Sure.”
“Then I’ll see you later.” Mr. Hadley stood up when she did and held out his hand. “Thank you for this.” He nodded to the chest of
letters, then to Hunter.
“You are very welcome.”
Saturday arrived, and they were expecting a crowd.
Mr. Hadley had decided he did want to join them, so Brooke drove to pick him up around four o’clock. Her mom and dad were already at Owen’s house cooking. Brooke’s father still had to use his wheelchair, but he sat at the kitchen table peeling vegetables while his wife chopped and stirred. Brooke and her mom had been cooking most of the afternoon, and the aroma of turkey, dressing, pumpkin—a complete Thanksgiving meal—wafted through the house. They’d decided there was so much to be thankful for, and they didn’t want to wait for November to celebrate.
“You’ve done a fine job with the house, Owen.” Mr. Hadley maneuvered his walker slowly into the dining room and sank down into a chair at one end of the table. “It makes me happy to see it filled with love and family.” There was a sadness in his voice, but Brooke suspected it wouldn’t last long. She had news that would brighten his day, and she planned to share it during dinner.
Owen had bought one of those little baby slings and had Lauren with him most of the day—when she wasn’t being passed off to others anxious to hold her. His awkwardness in handling her had vanished. Brooke felt like grinning whenever she saw him with the baby. He was a born father.
Brooke still couldn’t grasp Virginia’s decision to abandon her child, but she was glad of it for Owen’s sake. He’d already signed the papers and mailed them. But he’d also made it clear to Brooke that if Virginia ever changed her mind, he wanted to make a place in Lauren’s life for her biological mother. Brooke was glad of that too. He hadn’t actually said anything about forgiving his ex-wife, but Brooke could see him gradually letting go of the bitterness. That was an important step—a necessary step—toward the future she now envisioned with him and Lauren and her kids. But she was willing to wait for that, to walk by his side as he worked it out for himself. She knew that forgiveness took time . . . and a lot of grace.
