All Things Hidden

by Tracie Peterson

  The walk home passed by in what seemed like seconds. She couldn’t even remember walking. It was almost like she’d drifted.

  Sadzi gave her a gentle push onto the bed, removed Gwyn’s shoes, laid her down, and covered her with a quilt. Gwyn heard her friend say something, but the words didn’t register.

  Maybe it was all a bad dream. She closed her eyes and prayed it was.

  Gwyn woke up in a fog. Someone was tapping her shoulder, calling her name.

  “What?”

  “Gwyn, wake up. You need to see something.” Nasnana kept tapping. “If you don’t wake up, I’ll have to pinch you.”

  She opened eyes that felt full of sand. “I’m awake. Don’t pinch.” She sat up.

  Nasnana sat beside her. Sadzi stood in front of her.

  “What?”

  “Here, drink some water first. It will clear your mind.” Sadzi handed her a glass.

  The water slid down her throat. She hadn’t realized how parched she’d become. She drained the whole glass. “Okay, what is it?”

  Sadzi handed her an envelope. “Rose found this. In your father’s trunk.”

  Gwyn took the yellowed envelope. In her father’s beautiful script was her name. “Gwyneth.”

  Fresh tears sprung to her eyes. She’d always loved it when her father used her full name. It sounded regal rolling off his tongue.

  Gwyn ran her hand over the outside of the envelope. It hadn’t been a bad dream. Her father was gone.

  Nasnana hugged her and kissed her temple. “Do you want us to leave so you can read what’s in it?”

  She shook her head, unable to speak.

  “We’ll be here. Take your time.”

  Gwyn sucked in a breath. She couldn’t do it. Not yet. “Did you go through all of my father’s things?”

  “Yes.” Nasnana patted her knee. “It was my decision. I saw your face when they suggested it at the hospital and thought while you rested, it would be best if we just looked. Then when you are ready, you can take your time going through them.”

  “Thank you.” A sigh of relief escaped her lips. “I didn’t want to do that yet.”

  Sadzi sat on the floor and leaned against the wall.

  Gwyn looked back at the envelope. She wanted to savor her father’s words, wait until a day down the road when it didn’t hurt quite so much. But it had to be done. What if there was some clue in there about his death?

  With a prayer for strength, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out two sheets of paper folded in thirds. They smelled like his aftershave. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

  Hugging the letter to her chest, she said aloud, “‘The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’”

  Several moments passed in the quiet room. But she couldn’t wait any longer. Her father had penned words to her. Words that might be the last she would ever read from him. She unfolded the paper. It was dated December 14, 1934.

  My dearest Gwyneth,

  She read the greeting three times. Funny how the words written by her father elicited a reaction in stark contrast to the words scrawled by her mother.

  I’ve known for some time that I couldn’t live forever, but the thought of writing a letter to you that you would then have to read after my death made me feel old. So I’ve put it off until now.

  More tears flowed, but she had to laugh. She could imagine her father saying that aloud to her with a twinkle in his eye. He’d been so full of life. God, why? Why have you taken him home?

  As I sit here contemplating that I’ll be with my Savior, it still saddens me to think of you alone. I know how I would feel if something happened to you. We’ve been two peas in a pod for so very long. Ever since you could walk, you’ve followed me around. I’ve loved it. Not only the time spent with you, but the fact that you share the same passion for helping people that I do. The good Lord was so gracious in giving me you as a daughter. I have always been proud to be your father.

  The awkwardness of writing this letter probably pales in comparison to the grief you must be feeling. I’m sorry, Gwyn. Sorry that I’ve left you, but not sorry for the life I’ve lived. I will never be sorry for eternity either.

  More than anything, I want you to live your life to the fullest. Keep God as your focus and the utmost priority in your life. Study His Word. Live every day with His joy in your heart. Can you do that for me?

  Yes, Father, I can. And I will. Two tears dropped onto the page, and she dabbed at them with her hankie. She couldn’t bear for the last words of her father to be smeared.

  I have another request as well. It concerns your mother. Please forgive her. No matter how she’s hurt you, forgiveness is the only way you can be set free. I’ve seen the pain in your eyes and the bondage you seem to be in to the thought of abandonment. But you still need to forgive her. I’ve loved your mother all these years. I know you couldn’t possibly remember, but there was a time when we were very happy.

  Gwyn set the letter down in her lap. Her father knew her so well. But forgiving her mother would take an act of God. Maybe that was what he was expecting. She picked up the letter.

  Unfortunately, those days are long gone. I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve kept the truth from you for many years. Among my things you will no doubt find a packet from your grandfather’s lawyer. Sealed in that packet are divorce papers. Your mother tried to divorce me after she first left, but I let it drag on. A couple years ago now, I finally realized that I couldn’t hold on to her any longer. The law firm had been pressuring me for some time, even though I hid all those telegrams from you. I never wanted you to worry about me. Or about your mother. I didn’t want you to give up hope that one day she would return. You clung to that dream, and I hated to shatter it.

  Please forgive me for my dishonesty all this time. I imagine your mother won’t even care that I am gone, but I have remained faithful to her all these years, despite the papers that declare our marriage abolished. Please forgive her as well and allow her to go on with her life.

  On that note, my dearest Gwyn, I want to encourage you to move on with your life. There’s no reason you should stay here in the valley. I don’t want you to be alone the rest of your life. Please, go find love. Even as much as you’ve seen the dark side of it, I still encourage you to find a young man worthy of you and to fall in love. Get married. Have children.

  Make this old man proud.

  In closing, I want to tell you how very much I love you. You have been the light of my life. No man could have ever asked for a better daughter. Be brave and strong in the coming days. In my trunk, you will find boxes and boxes of handkerchiefs for you to fidget with, but I pray that one of these days you will no longer need them.

  I leave all of my earthly possessions to you, dear Gwyn. In an unmarked envelope in the trunk, you will find a key and information about my bank accounts in Seattle. There’s plenty there, Gwyn. Go . . . live your life.

  With eternal love from your adoring father,

  Harold H. Hillerman

  The tears rushed down her face as she folded the letter. What would she do without her precious father?

  Nasnana wrapped her arms around her, and Sadzi came and sat on the other side of her. Wrapped in their arms of love and comfort, Gwyn sobbed.

  25

  A tapping on her shoulder woke her again. Gwyn’s eyelids felt like heavy rocks, swollen from the tears she’d spent. She didn’t even want to try to open them.

  “Gwyn. Wake up, child.” Nasnana’s singsong voice. “Don’t make me pinch you. Jeremiah is here to see you.”

  Even in her foggy state, her heart did a little flip. She slowly sat up and worked to straighten her hair.

  “Don’t worry about it. You look fine. Besides, he won’t care.” Nasnana practically dragged her off the bed. Even in her decline, the woman could still muscle Gwyn around.

  In the living room, Jeremiah stood by the couch. “Gwyn”—his bloodshot eyes gave away his lack of sleep—“
I’m so sorry.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t need to keep apologizing. At least I know where my father is now, and that gives me comfort. Though I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.” She lowered herself to the cushions of the couch. She could still see her father sitting there, reading a book in the summer, or listening to the radio in the winter.

  “I’m going to make us some tea.” Nasnana shuffled away. “Jeremiah, sit down with Gwyn.” The words flew over her shoulder.

  Jeremiah sat next to Gwyn. He leaned over. “Is she always this bossy?”

  She chuckled. “Yes. But only because she loves us.”

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small leather book. “I wanted to bring you this as soon as I found it. It was locked in your father’s cabinet at the hospital. The officers opened everything, looking for clues.”

  The smooth leather was as soft as butter. Gwyn rubbed her hand back and forth. The book had been a journal of sorts for her father. She’d seen him write in it over the years. “Thank you for bringing it by.” She opened it and flipped through the pages. The brief lines of her father’s script made her heart catch. Page after page filled with dates and her father’s thoughts. On life, on patients, on God.

  When she reached the back, there were only five blank pages left. He had used the same volume for almost ten years. She turned the pages back and found his last entries.

  September 26, 1935

  So blessed to have Gwyn as a daughter. Wish we’d had more time together the past few months, but winter is coming.

  September 27, 1935

  The Zimmerman child is finally better. Will go home tomorrow. Need to find a better way to comfort the children here in the small hospital.

  September 28, 1935

  First croup case of the season came in tonight. Not looking forward to winter for this very reason. But they are finishing homes at a rapid pace.

  September 29, 1935

  Jeremiah Vaughan is a good man and a great physician. He’s carrying a burden he thinks I know nothing about, but I know it in full, and it doesn’t matter. He’s much too hard on himself. When the truth comes out . . . I know God will help him to see it. And when he is finally free of this burden, I hope one day to see him and Gwyn married. I look forward to being a doting grandfather.

  Tears stung her eyes. “Did you read it?”

  “I’ll admit I wanted to, and I hope one day you’ll let me. I bet he has a lot of insight in there. But no, I didn’t read it.” He bowed his head and twirled the hat in his hands.

  Gwyn scooted closer to him. “Here, read this last one.” She sniffed and wiped her nose.

  Their hands touched as they both held on to the little leather book. Jeremiah released a long sigh. “Your father was such a good man, Gwyn.”

  “He thought pretty highly of you as well.”

  Jeremiah closed the volume and laid it on her lap, leaving his hand on top. “Gwyn, your father and I talked for a long time the night he disappeared. And there’s a lot I need to tell you.”

  “About your burden?” she asked.

  He looked so grim. “Yes.”

  “All right.” The tight tone of his voice worried her. Did he not care for her after all? Had her father written that last entry before he talked to Jeremiah?

  “Gwyn, I don’t know how to say this . . .” He moved his hand from her lap. “I haven’t had my heart right with the Lord for a long time. And I’m just now getting back on track. Your father helped me with that.”

  She sighed. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. She gave him a tentative smile.

  “But there’s more. I’ve been carrying around heavy guilt . . . and it’s time I told you the truth.”

  Closing her eyes, Gwyn prayed. Jeremiah was a good man; she knew that. And if this was the man God had for her, she needed to be strong. No matter what it was. She opened her eyes. “Go on.”

  “I left Chicago because a woman died in my care, and the board stripped me of my medical license. I was also engaged. And my fiancée, well, she showed me the door, wanted nothing to do with me.”

  Her heart felt like it hit her shoes. “So you’ve been in love before?”

  “I thought I was. But now that I know what love really is, I know better.” His hazel eyes seemed to search hers.

  “So you’re not a doctor anymore? At least, not legally? What happened?”

  “My cousin is appealing the case, but the woman who died was the wife of a very wealthy, very influential man.” He took a deep breath. “Mrs. Brewster fell down a flight of stairs, and since I was Mr. Brewster’s choice to head up his new hospital and the neurological department, he asked me to perform the surgery. He’d been my biggest supporter, my greatest ally. I had no idea he would turn on me. The fact is, I shouldn’t have even tried. I knew her neck and head wounds were fatal. It was just a matter of time. But in my arrogance, I thought if I could save her, I could be the renowned physician I’d always wanted to be. We used a new technique—intravenous anesthesia—and she didn’t respond well. It went downhill from there, and even though I relieved a little of the pressure off her brain, she died on the operating table.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jeremiah.” This was too much to take in all at once. “And my father knew?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “No. Well, I don’t know. There was some talk of charging me with negligent homicide. But, Gwyn—” he got down on the floor and knelt before her, grabbing her hands—“there’s something else you have to know. I have to tell you the whole truth. But I don’t want to hurt you. Please know how much I care about you.”

  She bit her lip and held her breath. Could she take any more? Her mind couldn’t make sense of any of this.

  “The girl I was engaged to . . . was Sophia. Your sister.”

  Gwyn’s legs pumped beneath her as she ran as fast as she could. Jeremiah called to her, but she ran harder.

  Her thoughts spiraled out of control. He’d been engaged to Sophia? Her beautiful, delicate, sophisticated sister? How could she measure up to that? Even if Sophia was as horrible to him as he said, Gwyn knew she paled in comparison to her baby sister’s beauty.

  How could her father leave her at a time like this? How could he have known the truth and not told her?

  Was everything in her life based on a lie? She loved Jeremiah. Of that she was certain. But how could he possibly love her?

  She stopped at the edge of the river, where they’d found her father. Gasping for air, she bent over at the waist. Lord, help me to understand the truth. Please, Lord. I love Jeremiah—I know that. He’s a good man. But I’m so confused. She fell to the ground on her hands and knees. It hurts so bad that my father is gone. Please . . . Lord . . .

  She cried until there weren’t any more tears to shed. Her nose and cheeks dripped. A crackle alerted her to someone else’s presence. Jeremiah must have followed her. And she found she wanted him to.

  She stood up and turned, wiping her face with her sleeves. “Jer—”

  But it wasn’t Jeremiah’s eyes she looked into.

  Clarence ran toward her and gripped her arms with his hands. “Gwyn, I’ve been worried sick.” His eyes were wild.

  “Clarence, please . . . you’re hurting me.”

  “We’ve got to get away from here. Don’t you see? Jeremiah killed your father!”

  “No. No. Jeremiah loved my father. He—”

  “Yes, he did!” Clarence shook her until her teeth rattled.

  “Clarence! Let go of me! I don’t want anything to do with you!” Tiny tendrils of fear crept up her back like fingers. The hair on her neck prickled. What could she do? The man was insane . . . crazy . . .

  “I can give you everything and anything you’ve ever wanted! I am one of the wealthiest men in America.” His glassy eyes grew wide and he smiled. “I’ve got more money than you could even imagine.”

  “I don’t care about your money, Clarence.”
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  “Shut up!” He shook her again. “Everyone cares about money. Everyone always thought they were smarter or better than me. Well, guess who’s laughing now? I went after what I wanted, and I got it. And now I intend to have you, and nothing is going to stand in my way.”

  Gwyn closed her eyes. Clarence wasn’t acting normal. She bit her lip. What could she do? Lord, help!

  “Let’s go. You’re coming with me.”

  Peace flooded her. All the worry and fear disappeared. For the first time in her life, Gwyn wasn’t twisting a handkerchief to pieces. “No, Clarence. I won’t.” No matter what happened, she knew the truth.

  And the truth was that all she needed was the Lord. Because He is truth.

  His grip tightened.

  She straightened.

  “Oh, yes you are. I didn’t come all this way and endure this horrible little place all summer long for you to tell me no.” He shook her harder.

  Gwyn tried to wiggle free, but Clarence held on tightly.

  She clawed at his jacket. “Why did you come?”

  A little envelope fell out of his pocket, its contents spilling in the dirt.

  “No!” Clarence squeezed her arms until she thought her bones would break under the pressure. “Look at what you did!”

  She watched him stare at the last remnants of powder floating to the ground. When his grip loosened, she bolted.

  But she only made it two steps before he had one hand around her neck. He shook her like a rag doll, screaming in her face. Her ears thundered, black spots sprinkled her vision. “Please . . . stop!” She needed air.

  “I said you’re coming with me,” he hissed in her face.

  “No!” She struck his face with her hand. If she didn’t get air soon, she’d join her father.

  “No one tells me no!” He wrapped both hands around her neck and squeezed, his pupils dilated and his eyes bloodshot. “Not you. Not your stupid, nosy father. I showed him, and now I’ll show you.”

  Gwyn’s mind filled with panic. She couldn’t breathe. He would kill her. She watched her arms flail about helpless to stop Clarence’s attack.