All Things Hidden

by Tracie Peterson

  Hypocrite. The word ripped through his heart. He had to do something to get Gwyn off his mind. And the sooner the better.

  Several families greeted him on the way back to their camps. Sunday mornings were often a rush, since people had to walk a good distance to get to the church services. The closest camp, camp one, still showed many tents with the dark tarps covering the tops. Many of the mothers had begged the ARRC to do something to help them darken the tents at night so they could convince their children it indeed was bedtime, even though the sun still shone. With the white tents and the long hours of daylight, the children’s energy seemed endless. How did you convince small children they had to go to bed when it still appeared to be afternoon? Alaska was a grand adventure to the youngsters, and as long as the sun shone, it seemed only right they should be out and about. Parents were very nearly pulling out their hair.

  Jeremiah laughed to himself. He’d even had a mother come to the clinic because she couldn’t get her six-month-old to sleep because her three-year-old thought it was still playtime. And with families living in sixteen-by-twenty-foot tents, there weren’t other rooms in which to put a baby to sleep. Someone had suggested partitions be built, but with the focus on building houses before winter, there simply wasn’t time.

  Thankfully, the hardworking people were also creative. When the ARRC discovered they could get black tarps, the people were all for it. That way they could cover the tents at night and pull the tarps off in the morning.

  Walking toward the camp, Jeremiah spotted David Williams, the man in charge of platting out the new town of Palmer, standing in the center of the street. David had come for only a week or two, but Jeremiah liked the man and his creative influences for the town. “Hi, David. Is there anything I can help with?”

  The man stood staring at the mountains around him. He turned and gazed at Pioneer Peak. “You know, Jeremiah, I think I need to move the location of everything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  David continued to turn in each direction. “The town needs to be shifted from what I have in the plans.”

  “I’m still not following you, David. I’m sorry.”

  He unrolled a large sheet. “Look. Here’s the original layout I had for the town of Palmer.”

  “All right.” Jeremiah looked at the well-thought-out plan. “It looks great.”

  “Yes, but there’s one major flaw.”

  “And that is?”

  David shook his head and rerolled the design. “I need to turn the entire town ninety degrees. The folks can’t take advantage of these God-given views if I don’t.”

  From looking at the plan, Jeremiah hadn’t even thought of that. “Very observant. It’s a good thing you figured it out when you did. It’s a beautiful place to live, for sure, and fifty years from now, the people who live in this town will thank you for thinking of them. I know how much I love to look at the mountains every day.”

  David shook his hand. “And people will thank you and Dr. Hillerman and Dr. Albrecht for what you are doing to provide medical care here. When there’s a full-fledged hospital in this valley, you’ll be able to rest in confidence, knowing that thousands of people will have the best medicine for their children and their grandchildren for years to come.” With those words, David walked away.

  The warm encouragement should have given Jeremiah a sense of pride. And would have if he were actually doing something as honorable as Dr. H. and Dr. Albrecht. Instead, the glowing commendation soured Jeremiah’s stomach.

  Maybe he needed a walk to clear his head. What he wouldn’t give to be the honorable man everyone thought he was. Then he’d be able to hold his head up high in this community. He wouldn’t have to avoid the press, or the questions, or even love. But God hadn’t granted him that chance. He thought again about writing to his cousin in Chicago. Surely Howard had heard something by now. Then again, maybe the news was so grim he didn’t want to share it with Jeremiah. Maybe Brewster had managed to get charges of negligent homicide filed against him. He had threatened it.

  But Jeremiah had to know the truth either way. He determined then and there to go back to the office and write Howard a letter.

  Eugene Carr strode up to him. “Were you just speaking with David Williams?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Oh good, I’ve been looking for him all morning.” He shoved a hand into his suit pocket. “But before I traipse after him again, I thought we could finish our conversation.”

  The jig was up. Jeremiah swallowed. “What conversation?”

  “You. Training in Chicago. I asked if you knew Randolph Brewster.”

  “Oh, right. I remember that conversation.” It wouldn’t be right to lie. Then he’d be even more of a hypocrite than Brewster.

  “Well?”

  “Yes, sir. I know Mr. Brewster.”

  The older man clapped him on the shoulder. “Well then, how is he? I haven’t seen him in ages.”

  Jeremiah breathed a sigh. Carr didn’t know. “When I left Chicago, he was doing very well for himself.”

  “Good to hear! We were childhood friends, you know. Kept up for many years, but I’m ashamed to admit, we both grew too busy to stay in touch.” Carr squeezed Jeremiah’s shoulder. “Next time you speak with him, tell him his old friend Eugene says hello. Can you do that for me?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Thank you. I’d better go track down Mr. Williams. We’ve got a lot to do.” The man turned and hurried off.

  Jeremiah watched Mr. Carr’s retreating form. As long as Eugene didn’t get the sudden urge to look up his old friend, Jeremiah would be fine.

  The breeze picked up as he walked toward the small community building that was now the temporary hospital. A small tent in the back housed the Red Cross nurses. One day this place would be a true hospital. But would he be around to see it?

  Dr. H. spent a lot of time with Dr. Albrecht. Jeremiah was sure at first that the two just needed to get to know each other, but he often spotted them having what looked like serious discussions. Could Dr. Albrecht have found out?

  Jeremiah passed up the commissary and smiled at several of the children running around outside. Oh, the freedom of childhood. He hardly remembered those days anymore.

  “Come play ball with us, Jeremiah!” one of the children called out. Several of the others added their approval to that request.

  “You can help us practice catching fly balls,” one of the boys declared.

  “Not right now,” Jeremiah replied. “But I promise to do just that later this afternoon. Right now I have something to attend to.” There were moans of disappointment, but Jeremiah just gave them a wave and continued on his way. The guilt burned in his stomach. Fear at every turn that someone new would pop up and spill the whole sordid story. He had no business attaching himself to this beloved community.

  “Well, well. Good day, Jeremiah.” Clarence’s smooth voice greeted him.

  Ugh. The skulker was back. “Hello, Clarence.” He started to walk past, but Clarence stepped into his path.

  “Gwyn sure looked lovely at church this morning, didn’t she?”

  Jeremiah just stared at him. “I need to get back to the hospital.”

  “You do that . . . Doctor.” The look in Clarence’s eyes gave Jeremiah the impression that they knew each other. But he was sure he’d never met Novak before.

  Jeremiah gritted his teeth. He was in no mood for the man’s games. Nor the snide way he said doctor. He shook his head and stepped past Clarence.

  The one place that called him was the hospital. Inside, with patients, medicine, and his medical journals, Jeremiah felt alive. He loved to help people—and yet he’d learned to love solitude, because people were what hurt him the most.

  The building was quiet when Jeremiah entered. He went to the small bookshelf in the corner of what had been deemed the doctors’ office. Taking out pen and paper, he wrote a hurried letter to Howard. He stressed that no matter how bad the news might be, he
needed to know the truth so that he could decide his future. When the letter was complete, Jeremiah tucked it into his pocket. He’d get it posted first thing in the morning. With that out of the way, he pulled out a new medical journal and began to thumb through the pages.

  For many years, he’d wanted to be one of the physicians listed, to have articles written about him and his new discoveries. Why had he wasted so much time aiming for such pitiful heights? He disgusted himself the more he thought about it. His dreams had been based on politics and gaining people’s favor. How easily influenced he’d been by Randolph Brewster. He’d completely bought into the man’s principles and goals, yet they had never been a part of Jeremiah’s original plan.

  Prestige and accolades. What were they worth?

  Jeremiah leaned back. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Dr. H. walked in. “Oh, Jeremiah, I didn’t know you were here. How are you feeling? You look exhausted.”

  “I’m fine, Dr. H., really—”

  “Son, after all these years, you could just call me Harold. While I know Dr. H. is a habit, I’d much prefer the camaraderie. I think you’ve only called me by my name twice since you’ve been here. We are friends and fellow physicians. Please.” The man’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.

  Jeremiah swallowed his guilt. “All right . . . Harold. I am tired, but I’m fine. It’s just too easy to slip into the old habit. In my mind, you’ll always be Dr. H. But I will try. As long as you continue to remind me.” He took a deep breath. “I do have a question for you—if you have a minute.”

  Harold sat across from him. “All right. This sounds serious.”

  “Why did you become a doctor?”

  “Because I wanted to help people get well. I wanted to be an instrument of the Great Physician.”

  Jeremiah thought about that for a moment. “You could have gone anywhere. I read everything they wrote about you before you left Chicago. You were known as one of the greatest doctors of our time.”

  “Oh, that’s rubbish. What did those people know, Jeremiah? Part of that was driven by Edith’s father. He wanted his son-in-law to be prominent in the community. Prestige and impressive news stories can always be bought for a price. The same is true for negative reports. It’s amazing how the truth can be bent for a dollar.”

  “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Harold.”

  “It’s not about credit, son. It’s about helping people. We should be doctors for them, not for ourselves.”

  “Is that why you came up here?” Jeremiah leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

  Harold did the same and sighed. “In part I came up here to escape Edith’s family. The constant push to be more, acquire more, be seen more just made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to simply be a doctor, a man who helped people. I don’t even know how we did it. It’s a bit of a blur. The fact that Edith followed me to this place is still beyond me. But as you have probably noticed, the wealthy are fascinated with Alaska. Her friends thought it a grand adventure, so she went along. Until she realized what she’d gotten into. I’m sure she believed we would build a luxurious vacation home up here after I did my little missionary journey, and we would live out the rest of our days back in Chicago among the elite of society.”

  Jeremiah nodded. He understood all too well. But Harold was different. Harold had defied Edith and her family to do what was right, while Jeremiah had played right into the greedy woman’s hands. In a sense, she had paved the way for Jeremiah to fulfill the dreams she’d had for her own husband.

  It took all of it blowing up in his face for him to change course. Why couldn’t he be more like his mentor? Where had Jeremiah strayed?

  “You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

  “You’ve never sought the world’s favor, have you?”

  A sad laugh escaped Harold. “Oh, there was a short while when I thought money and esteem were everything. That’s how I met Edith.”

  “But?”

  “Those are days I’m not proud of. But I am glad to say that God got ahold of me.” Harold cleared his throat. “I learned right away that the only favor I am to seek is that of my Lord. And when I put it all into perspective, my life completely changed. I knew without a doubt what I was supposed to do.”

  How could he know exactly what had been on Jeremiah’s mind? “How did God get ahold of you?”

  The older man sighed and stood. “I was offered a prominent position in a hospital—much like you—and delivered the child of our most wealthy benefactor.” Harold looked at Jeremiah, the sadness in his eyes almost overpowering. “The child was weak, sickly. Another child was born at the exact same time. This one was robust and healthy but belonged to a very poor, underprivileged family.”

  Jeremiah held his breath.

  Harold continued. “I overheard the physician above me and the father discussing switching babies. Oh, the reasons were lengthy. The poor family would never be able to raise the child. They’d have to send the child to work at a young age. Look how much the child could benefit from all the wealthy family had to offer.”

  He swiped a hand down his face. “I was in shock. Yes, I knew that these things happened, but I couldn’t imagine our hospital being a part of it. And I thought my opinion held power. So I went to the doctor I’d overheard and discovered they’d already done the deed. That night, the sickly child died. The poor couple—those sweet people—they were devastated. They sobbed in front of me, not understanding. Their baby had been so healthy and strong. They were told they had to leave the hospital immediately. They were disturbing other patients. But I never said a word.

  “The next day their bodies were found in the river. Apparently, they’d jumped into the river together, since all hope was lost.” He turned toward the wall, his shoulders shaking. “I made a vow that day: I would never put man’s bidding before God’s. I would never put one person ahead of another because of class or rank or money. And I vowed to leave that horrid city behind, no matter the cost.”

  The depth of Harold’s confession jolted Jeremiah to his very core. Dr. H.’s vow “no matter the cost” had indeed cost him a hefty price.

  His marriage and one of his daughters.

  “So you left everything behind—all the opportunities and prestige.”

  Harold nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I was proud. Thought I could do something about it but quickly found out that the hospital—and many like it across the country—did the practice on a regular basis. In my arrogance, I went to the police and said I wanted to give my testimony . . . to stop such things.” His head lowered. “The detective laughed at me. Then he told me that if I wanted to save my reputation, I’d better run.”

  Jeremiah swallowed the lump in his throat. “So you came here. . . .”

  His mentor turned back to face him and gripped his shoulders. “Son, the most important thing you can do for your patients and for yourself is to allow God to be in control. We are here to serve Him—no one else.”

  Jeremiah paced the floor, Harold’s words ringing in his ears. Instead of turning away from God, the man had turned toward Him and lived a fulfilling and happy life. Was there hope for Jeremiah to have the same? Even with all his lies and hypocrisy?

  Shouts jolted Jeremiah from his reverie. They increased in volume. He ran outside to find out what was causing the ruckus and saw Gertrude dragging Nasnana by the arm. The old woman could barely keep up.

  “What are you doing?” Jeremiah raced to rescue his friend from the clutches of the screaming Gertrude.

  “This woman stole from me!”

  A crowd had already formed. Gertrude’s face was beet red.

  Jeremiah tried to pull Nasnana from her grasp.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” the angry woman hissed. “I’m not letting her go until I get some justice. Didn’t you hear me? She stole from me!”

  Don Irwin ran over, followed by Eugene Carr, David Williams, and half the ARRC staff.

  Jeremiah needed a differen
t tactic. “What did she steal?”

  “My mother’s pearl necklace. It’s been in my family for years, and the only thing of value we had left when we had to sell everything.”

  “How do you know she stole it? Did you see her?” Jeremiah pressed.

  “She was sneaking around the corner of my tent when I caught her—”

  “I think Dr. Vaughan’s question has merit,” Don said, jumping into the fray. “Did you see Nasnana steal it?”

  Gertrude narrowed her eyes. “No, I didn’t see her steal it, but what thief takes something from the owner directly in front of them—”

  “So why do you think she stole it?” Mr. Irwin pressed further.

  She placed one hand on her hip and yanked at Nasnana’s arm. “Like I said, I saw her sneaking around my tent.”

  “But what makes you think she’s the one who stole the pearls?” Mr. Carr stared the woman down.

  Gertrude stomped her foot. “Because when I discovered they were missing, I ran out of the tent and right into her. She dropped something, and when I bent to look, I saw my pearls on the ground.”

  Jeremiah had heard enough of the woman’s accusations. “There is no proof that Nasnana took the pearls. You could have just as easily dropped them.” He turned away from the hateful woman and looked to the two men who were in charge. “Gentlemen, I am loath to repeat it here, but you know Gertrude has shown great prejudice toward the native people and dislikes Nasnana.”

  “How dare you—”

  “If I may continue,” he said, sending a scathing look, “I know Nasnana quite well, and she’s never stolen anything. In fact, she’s always giving of her own possessions to help others.”

  The men nodded. Don moved forward. “Gertrude, unhand Nasnana. You have your pearls. I suggest you lock them up. We will discuss this in the morning with clear heads. I would like to see Dr. Vaughan, Nasnana, Gertrude, and Mr. Carr in my office at eight o’clock sharp.”

  Nasnana hadn’t said a word. Jeremiah took her elbow and watched Gertrude storm off in a rage. He looked down at her. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you, Jeremiah.”