All Things Hidden

by Tracie Peterson

  “Thank you, Dr. Hillerman. Thank you.” Clarence smiled again. “I’ll run back and let Suzanne know you are coming.”

  Harold allowed Clarence to leave and looked back to the bottle containing the morphine powder in his hand. What was that man up to?

  He wrote Earl a note and headed to the construction office. Irwin had told him that during the night if they needed to use one of the vehicles, they could, so Harold found the keys the construction manager left for him and headed to the truck. Maybe if he arrived before Clarence, he could find out the truth.

  Driving over the bumpy terrain at night at least kept him awake. When Harold reached the Novaks’ tent, Clarence was nowhere to be seen. He knocked on the frame of the tent and whispered, “Suzanne? William?”

  Suzanne Novak appeared in seconds. “Oh, Dr. Hillerman, how did you know?”

  “Didn’t you send Clarence?”

  “Well, no. But I’m glad he went to get you.” She looked surprised and pulled him inside. “Heather has been moaning all night. She can’t sleep because of the pain.”

  “What happened?”

  “She fell out of a tree this morning. Said she landed on her feet, but her ankle twisted.”

  Harold reached under the covers to look at the young girl’s foot. After a quick exam, he left Suzanne with some aspirin. “She’ll be fine. It’s just a sprain. I’ve written on that paper how much you can give her and how often.”

  Suzanne’s shoulders slumped. She looked relieved.

  “Keep it elevated and keep wrapping it in cool cloths. The swelling is what’s causing her the pain right now.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” The mother’s red-rimmed eyes spoke volumes. “I’m sorry you had to come in the middle of the night, but thank you again.”

  “You’re most welcome. Just bring Heather in to see me in a day or two so that I can check up on her, all right?”

  Suzanne nodded and closed the flap to their tent.

  Harold climbed back into the ARRC truck and started the engine. Something didn’t add up. Granted, it was a long hike to the camp where the Novaks lived, but Clarence should have returned if he’d truly run like he said he would.

  And then there was the morphine. Why had he snuck around like a thief, broken into the medical cabinet, and put it in his pocket?

  Harold’s thoughts went every which way as he drove back to the hospital. Clarence had spent entirely too much time pursuing his Gwyn. She’d been nice enough to him, but Harold knew she was annoyed with the attentions of the man.

  Maybe he needed to sit down with Gwyn tomorrow and talk to her.

  Something about Clarence Novak put his senses on edge.

  Now if only he could find a few minutes to talk to his daughter to warn her to keep her distance from him.

  Harold shook his head. With their busy schedules, he wasn’t sure when that would be.

  Hopefully not months down the road.

  17

  The doctor had to go. Somehow, some way. Clarence paced in the woods. Ever since Dr. Hillerman caught him stealing the morphine, the man had been watching him like a hawk. The goody-two-shoes never said a word to him about it the past week, but Clarence needed to keep a step ahead of the game.

  One hand shook with a brief tremor. The symptoms had come and gone more often the past week or two. Without liquor readily available, he’d turned to morphine. He’d gotten the idea when he’d seen one of the injured workers given the drug. Unfortunately, stealing it was getting harder and harder. He didn’t need much. Just enough to get him through until he could finalize his plans and get back to the States or, better yet, abroad.

  Shoving his hand into his pocket, Clarence thought about his options. As his fingers met the cool metal of the diamond ring, he longed to look at the finery again. That’s what his life should be full of—fine things. Gold. Diamonds. Money. Anything his heart desired. He pulled the ring out.

  “Whatcha got, Uncle Clarence?” The tiniest brat of his brother’s brood looked at the ring with eyes as big as saucers.

  Clarence shoved it back in his pocket. “Oh, nothing. Just a prize I found in a Cracker Jack box.” He wasn’t sure the kid bought it. “Don’t you need to be heading to bed?”

  The boy didn’t respond. Just frowned at him and walked away.

  The longer he stayed, the more he wanted to leave this place and his horrible family in the tiny tent. The kids wanted his attention all the time, William wanted Clarence to be his slave, and Suzanne was content to wipe snotty noses all day.

  Clarence was ready for the real world again. He wanted to leave. But it would be with the lovely Gwyn on his arm. There wasn’t any reason he shouldn’t have her.

  He had enough money.

  They could run away to Europe and never return. He knew he could convince her; after all, what woman couldn’t be persuaded with a little sweet talk and promises? She would see him as a hero when the truth came out about her precious Jeremiah. She wouldn’t continue to defend him once she knew how he’d lied. The trouble was, Clarence was hard-pressed to get her alone.

  There were three rather large obstacles in his way. Nasnana. Dr. Hillerman. And Jeremiah Vaughan.

  “I just need to bide my time,” he reminded himself. “Just as I have been. I need to be patient and let everything fall into place.” He smiled. Three obstacles—three hurdles to overcome—three very irritating, interfering complications.

  In a few more weeks, none of them would stand in his way.

  Gwyn looked down at her hands. They were wrinkled and rough from the canning process, but she and the other women had made a lot of progress. The end of August was upon them, and winter would appear sooner than they’d like.

  Mrs. Lydia Fohn-Hansen had traveled to the colony from the University of Alaska to teach the colonists how to can salmon. And with the last of the coho salmon run in the past week, they’d all had their hands full. More than twenty-five hundred cans of salmon had been prepared by the women as a group, and many of the colonists were catching more and preserving the fish on their own.

  As Gwyn stood at the large makeshift sink washing all the canning tools, she allowed her thoughts to wander. Most of the other women were carrying on conversations outside the tent while the cans were distributed and hauled to their tents and homes. Gwyn enjoyed the silence and the menial task of scrubbing.

  The summer had flown by. She missed her father, and Jeremiah. But even more so Nasnana and Sadzi. She’d tried to get out to their cabin every day, but it hadn’t happened. Gwyn spent her days racing from camp to camp, helping with anything and everything she could. She often performed simple nursing duties, patching a boo-boo here, removing a large splinter or two there, and other things the mothers didn’t want to drag their children all the way to the hospital to see tended. The women also had lots of questions about projects for the winter and their gardens. The men stayed hard at work building the cabins and frame houses.

  The construction of homes had really picked up. Originally the ARRC had intended to use timber from the valley, but the monumental task of cutting and trimming all those trees wasn’t possible. They simply didn’t have the time. So they’d spent more money and brought in lumber. Now there were frame houses going up all over the valley as well.

  The women worked hard in their gardens, and the group canning the fish had shown a true pioneer spirit. It was obvious they wanted this endeavor to work. Gwyn marveled at these women. They’d given up so much for the opportunity to give their children a brighter future. At times, she even found herself jealous—of the families, the relationships, the excitement.

  She had to admit, it felt good to be a part of something like this. Not only the project, but the community itself. Gwyn loved this place. Loved this land. If she had allowed her initial fear and worry to rule, she would never have experienced this wonderful time.

  But . . . would she be able to stay here? Did she still belong? Was this where God wanted her to minister?

  Her hea
rt yearned for a family of her own. Especially since she hardly had the chance to see her father anymore. Loneliness often overwhelmed her, even though she was surrounded by people. That thought sent her mind wandering.

  The colonists had all been chosen because they were families. The only single men were transient workers, and the ARRC planned to have them all shipped out by mid-October. None of those men had caught her attention anyway. Many of them were married. Some had girls back home. And a lot of them didn’t share her faith.

  She sighed. Only one man caught her eye.

  Jeremiah Vaughan.

  As much as she tried to banish thoughts of him, they still intruded. She prayed every morning for him, and also prayed that if it be the Lord’s will, He take away all the yearnings she had.

  But for now, they remained. Without any seeming return of affection. She huffed and blew the curls off her forehead. Men. What a conundrum.

  Sadzi peeked around the corner and caught her attention. “Gwyn!”

  Gwyn raced over and threw her soap-covered arms around her friend. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, you know Grandmother. She wanted us to stay quiet for a while and let everything settle down. But after a couple weeks, I was about to go crazy.” Sadzi plopped onto a bench. “So she sent me fishing and hunting and berry picking and anything else she could think of. When we had enough meat and fish for ten people for the winter and enough berries, jams, jellies, and honeys all canned, I finally urged her to allow me to come help you.”

  “Wouldn’t she come with you? It’s been a month already since she was accused of stealing the pearls.” Gwyn didn’t understand the older woman in this situation.

  “No, I’m afraid I couldn’t convince her. She’s content to stay at home and read her Bible. She keeps saying that she’s tired; the years are catching up to her. She’d had such hope for the community. I think she wants to make sure that she isn’t a stumbling block to anyone else. And she says over and over that ‘Everything takes time. We must be patient.’”

  Stumbling block. Humph. The only stumbling blocks were the naysayers like Gertrude and the annoying Clarence. “I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t have to like it. Nasnana is the sweetest person I’ve ever known.”

  Several of the colony wives entered with smiles, laughter, and more to wash.

  “So, what can I help with?” Sadzi rolled up her sleeves.

  Her heart panged. Hopefully none of these women had been tainted by Gertrude’s hatred of the Alaskan natives. “Well, we’re almost done here, but you can help me finish cleaning up.” Gwyn thrust her hands back into the soapy water. “After that, I promised to go visit Rose. She said she hasn’t been feeling well.”

  “I’m surprised she’s still here. I figured after losing both her husband and son, she would clear out. Especially since they stopped working on building her a house.”

  “I don’t think she’s been in any shape to travel, and because of that no one has been pushing her to do anything. The women have been good to her, seeing that she has food and such. As for a house, I think most folks figured it was better to get families settled before one woman. One colonist even mentioned the possibility of Rose being taken in by another family if she stays.”

  “Well, I’ll come with you,” Sadzi declared. “Between the two of us we can help with anything she needs. Grandmother sent me with a letter for her, hoping you could deliver it. I’ll just deliver it myself, and we can pray with her too.”

  “Maybe. She was so angry at God for her losses that I’m not sure she believes He hears our prayers.”

  Sadzi elbowed her slightly. “Well, we know He does, and that’s enough.”

  The two made quick work of finishing the cleanup, and Sadzi sang some beautiful hymns while a few other women hummed along and stacked the cans. Several ladies buried all the fish bones so they wouldn’t attract bears to the site, and a few poured lye soap, mixed with water, out onto the dirt floor to finish the cleanup.

  Gwyn lifted a hand to her nose after she waved good-bye to the other ladies, thankful that they’d all been open and welcoming to Sadzi. “I think my hands will smell of salmon for another week.”

  Sadzi grabbed her hand and sniffed. “Eww. I think you’re right. Better keep them in your pocket so the bears don’t get wind of it.”

  They laughed together as they walked to Rose Benson’s tent. The young widow had endured so much. But Nasnana had reached her in a short time like no one else had. Maybe the letter would do Rose a world of good. God hadn’t given up on Rose, if only Gwyn and Sadzi could help convince her of that.

  “When I saw Rose yesterday, she was so pale and told me she hadn’t been feeling very well,” Gwyn said. “I asked her if she wanted to walk with me to see our friend, but she said she was too tired and weak.”

  “I know Grandmother has missed seeing her most of all. That was her biggest regret in staying away. Even so, she prays for her daily.”

  They approached Rose’s tent, and Gwyn called, “Rose, it’s Gwyn and Sadzi. May we come in?”

  An awful retching sound reached her ears. Gwyn headed to the back of the tent and found Rose huddled over a bucket. “Rose! Are you all right?”

  The young woman barely lifted her head and nodded. “I think so. I’m just so weak.”

  Gwyn looked to Sadzi. “Help me carry her back to her bed.”

  They struggled but managed to get Rose to the edge of the bed. As soon as she was seated, Gwyn looked into the young woman’s eyes. “Rose, we need to get you to the hospital. How long have you been sick?”

  Her head wobbled. “Oh, off and on for a couple months now. After Daniel’s death I was too tired to care, and I wasn’t eating. Then when I lost baby Daniel . . .” Her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. “I wasn’t hungry for a long time. But lately, I’ve had a strong appetite. I’m hungry and I feel like I could eat a horse, but my stomach just doesn’t want to . . .” She passed out and fell back on the mattress.

  “Sadzi, run and see if you can find some construction workers and a truck anywhere close by. Tell them we need to get someone to the hospital right away.”

  Sadzi ran out the door and Gwyn reached for a towel. She wet it down in the fresh water bucket and started to wipe Rose’s face. Gwyn assessed the young widow as she lay still. Her pulse was strong and steady, but she was all too thin. And very pale. Had she been eating something bad? Or could her water be contaminated?

  Gwyn checked for signs of a fever, but there weren’t any.

  The rumbling of a truck sounded in the distance. Thank you, Lord!

  Two workers helped load Rose into the back of the truck, and Gwyn asked one if he would drive them to the hospital.

  The bumpy road wasn’t more than a grooved path from construction trucks and tractors moving back and forth over the dirt. Gwyn had a rough time keeping Rose’s head from banging around, so she lifted the young woman’s shoulders and head to rest in her lap while Sadzi held on to the young widow’s legs.

  As they reached the hospital, Jeremiah and her father both exited the building.

  Her father was first to reach the truck. “What’ve you got?”

  “It’s Rose.” Gwyn stroked her friend’s head. “I don’t think she’s been able to keep much down for a while now. She’s pale and thin but has a steady pulse and no fever.”

  Jeremiah lifted the young widow out of the back of the truck. “Is she unconscious? Did she hit her head?”

  “No. We were with her when she passed out. She didn’t hit anything.”

  Both doctors nodded.

  Her father directed Jeremiah to lay Rose on a nearby cot, and both men reached for their medical bags. “Gwyn, we need clean linens and a bucket.” He already had his stethoscope around his neck. “And pull that curtain closed so we have some privacy.”

  It took several minutes to collect the things her father wanted. By the time Gwyn finally found everything, her mind had worked into a frenzy of worry. Poor Ro
se. She had suffered so much. How could it be that yet another trouble was allowed to wound her?

  Gwyn caught sight of Sadzi kneeling on the floor. She seemed completely oblivious to her location. Sadzi’s head rose for only a moment. “I figured we could help best on our knees.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Gwyn sank down beside her. “I do believe the best thing for Rose right now is prayer.” The girls fell silent and focused on their petitions to God. Gwyn wanted so much for the young woman to be all right. Please, God. Please heal her.

  “Gwyn.”

  Her father’s hand was on her shoulder. Gwyn wasn’t sure how long they’d actually been praying. She looked to her father and saw his smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but I wanted to give you an update.”

  Gwyn wiped the tears from her eyes. She’d been pouring her heart out to the Lord and had drenched her hankie in the process. “Is Rose all right?”

  18

  “Mr. Novak!”

  Clarence cringed. He recognized that nasal voice but kept walking.

  “Mr. Novak! Clarence!” Gertrude was relentless. If only he could get that pushy woman off his back.

  With practiced ease, he pasted a small smile on and turned around. “Gertrude. How good to see you today, but I must admit, I’m off on a very important errand.”

  The heavy woman caught up and gasped for breath. “Errand? In the woods?” She huffed. “That’s a lot of nonsense, and you know it.” She pointed a finger in his face. “We had an agreement, and I’m getting tired of waiting.” The haughty woman lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes.

  Like she could do anything at all to intimidate him. Please. The woman was nothing but a nuisance. Useful for a time, but that had worn off like the plating on cheap jewelry. “I truly am on an urgent errand.”

  “But you’ve missed our last two appointments. I hate to be a nag”—she leaned in close and dropped her voice to a whisper—“but you have yet to fulfill your end of the bargain. I’ve done my part, now you best follow through or—”