All Things Hidden

by Tracie Peterson

  28

  Jeremiah moved closer to Gwyn.

  “Get away from her, Doctor. Or I’ll be forced to kill her.”

  He wanted to tackle Clarence, to get him on the ground and strangle him. But even in his anger, he knew he couldn’t get to Clarence before he pulled the trigger. And Jeremiah couldn’t risk Gwyn being shot.

  He’d better think. And fast. He gave the pretense of adhering to Clarence’s command by holding up his hands and shifting his shoulders.

  Clarence paced at the end of Gwyn’s bed. “Now, this is how it’s going to go. Gwyn will be my hostage as we leave the colony. No one will try to come after me, because they know I’ll kill her if they do.”

  “But she can’t be transported right now. Look at how weak she is.” Maybe he could reason with the man. Or at least stall him until he could think of a better plan.

  “No! You need to do whatever is necessary to make sure that she can come with me. I’ll drag a nurse along as well if I have to. Hey, two hostages are better than one, right?”

  Jeremiah straightened and got to his feet. “Won’t that be cumbersome? Why don’t you take me instead? Then you’ll still have your hostage, but I won’t slow you down.”

  “No!” Gwyn cried from the bed.

  Clarence pointed the gun at her again.

  Jeremiah moved to the end of the bed—and the gun trained on him.

  “Don’t be stupid, Dr. Vaughan. You know I’d just kill you.”

  “I know that.”

  A young nurse entered the room. “Take me instead.”

  Clarence wrapped an arm around her neck and put the gun to her head. “So you sent a spy, did you? You thought you could sneak up on me?”

  The young nurse started to cry. “No, I just thought you wanted a hostage, and Miss Gwyn will die if you take her.”

  Clarence blinked rapidly. His eyelid twitched. He released the nurse and shoved her toward the bed. “I’ll just take you both. Nurse, you do whatever it takes to get Gwyn ready to leave.” The arm holding the gun shook. “Now!”

  She looked to Jeremiah and he nodded. “Better do what he says, Abigail.” The woman moved to help Gwyn sit up.

  “Hurry up!” Clarence demanded.

  Abigail looked at him like he was crazy. “She can’t move fast. She has a head injury that needs to be redressed. If she moves too quickly, she’ll lose consciousness.” Clarence studied the woman as if trying to perceive the truth of the matter.

  It was now or never—

  “Hands up, Novak!” Frank Rhoads’s voice penetrated the room.

  Clarence jerked at Frank’s yell, and Jeremiah dove for the gun.

  A thunderous report went off.

  As Jeremiah and Clarence fell to the floor, Gwyn prayed for strength. Her legs wouldn’t support her, and Abigail sat her back down on the bed. Oh, Lord, please help. Please don’t let Jeremiah be hurt!

  She heard a struggle and then another gunshot. Spots danced in front of her eyes again. The room spun.

  “Miss Gwyn!” Abigail reached out and laid her down on the pillow.

  Her eyelids were so heavy. But she had to know what was happening.

  Another crash. Grunts. And then what sounded like a window breaking. Footsteps running away. Followed by more footsteps . . . yelling . . . another gunshot.

  The silence that followed begged her attention. She wanted to stay awake, find out what happened. But exhaustion tugged at every fiber of her being.

  “It’s all over, Miss Gwyn.” Abigail’s voice penetrated the fog.

  As much as she tried, Gwyn couldn’t open her eyes. “What . . . happened?”

  “Shhh. It’s over. Don’t worry.”

  And she surrendered to the blackness.

  They’d laid her father in the ground today. A full week after when they’d planned the original burial, but Gwyn had been too weak after the attack and her surgery, and she had insisted that she be able to attend. Could it really be the tenth of October? This year of 1935 had been a year of excitement and anticipation for her father, and now he was gone. The bandage around her head itched and reminded her of all they’d gone through. Nasnana had knit her a hat for the occasion, but Gwyn didn’t want to try to put it on—the entire back of her head still felt like one big bruise. In the months to come, the hat would come in handy as her hair grew back in, but she didn’t care about her appearance right now. Her father was gone.

  Gwyn knew that funerals were a source of closure for many people, but it was more the start of a different chapter for her. Her mother had telegrammed that she wouldn’t be coming back. Ever. But the door was open for Gwyn to join the family in Chicago. Jeremiah had graciously responded to Edith Hillerman and said they were praying for Edith and Sophia to turn to the Lord in their grief.

  Did Father’s death have any effect at all on Mother? Would Mother ever be able to see past her vain and selfish ways and see the need in her soul for the Savior? Gwyn could only pray for the woman she’d longed to please for so many years. Maybe one day that ache in her heart would diminish.

  For thirty minutes after the reverend walked away, Gwyn remained, silent, her right hand ensconced in Jeremiah’s, her left hand in Sadzi’s.

  Every colony family had attended the funeral. And every man poured a shovelful of dirt over the roughhewn coffin. The children threw remnants of once lush lupine and fireweed, covering her father’s grave in a carpet of his favorite Alaskan wild flowers.

  Encouraging words were given: Praise for her father. Gratitude for all he’d done. Assurance that she wasn’t alone in her journey.

  But none of it made the anguish go away. Her father was truly gone.

  She knew he now resided in heaven. She knew he’d want her to rejoice in that fact. But putting it into action proved harder than she’d expected.

  Gwyn turned to see Nasnana. A beautiful light in the woman’s eyes made her whole face glow.

  “My child, it’s not easy to say good-bye to someone you love.” The older woman placed her hands on each side of Gwyn’s face. “But the Lord will give you strength and peace.”

  Gwyn nodded. She knew that. She did. But why did she feel so lost? As though she were wandering around in a haze?

  Nasnana removed her hands and made a little circle around Gwyn by joining hands with Jeremiah and Sadzi. “Things are unclear right now, Gwyn. Out of focus. I see the struggle in your eyes. Grief will do that. But Psalm 105 reminds us to ‘Seek the Lord, and his strength: seek his face evermore.’ We will be here for you. We are your family and we love you. But how exciting it will be to join your father in heaven one day.

  “Jeremiah”—two tears slipped down her weathered face—“would you please pray for us?”

  “I’d be honored.”

  His voice was a welcome balm. Gwyn closed her eyes. The smooth tenor of Jeremiah’s voice washed over her, healing raw places in her heart. The words blurred, but the peace behind them overflowed her heart with joy. Thank you, Lord!

  Tears streamed down her face.

  And then Jeremiah concluded, “In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

  Somewhere outside their little circle, a throat cleared.

  “Excuse me. I’m sorry to intrude.” Frank Rhoads stood with his hands folded in front of him. “How are you feeling, Miss Hillerman?”

  “Weak and a little unsteady at times, but healing. I think my grief weighs me down more than my injuries. Thank you for asking.”

  “That’s understandable. I’ve learned so much about your father in my investigation here. He was an amazing man and will be missed. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Gwyn looked at Jeremiah. “Yes, thank you, but I know where my father is, and that gives me great comfort.”

  Frank stepped closer. “Again, I’m sorry to intrude, but I need to speak with Jeremiah before I leave. I’ve got an urgent case back in Chicago.”

  “Of course.” Jeremiah turned toward Frank but took Gwyn’s hand in his own.

  This time, she
felt the warmth and the haze begin to lift. Another memory surfaced. She never wanted to forget opening her eyes to see Jeremiah praying over her after Clarence threatened to take her hostage. The man Jeremiah had become thrilled her heart. She’d slept for days after it was all over, but when she awoke clearheaded, he was still by her side.

  Gwyn glanced at her wonderful fiancé. Again by her side. Through thick and thin.

  “I’d like to thank you both for all you did to help us catch Clarence Novak. I was sorry to have to kill him. It’s never something I take satisfaction in.” He looked to the ground and then back to Gwyn. “I value every man’s life—even one like Clarence’s.”

  “How’s his family?” Gwyn worried about the colonists.

  “They are all right. A little shocked, but William said Clarence had never chosen to be close to any of his relatives. He’d stayed away and aloof for many years.” Frank reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. Then he sat down on a stump and looked to Jeremiah. “What I really needed to speak to you about is this: Your cousin, Howard, asked me to find you.”

  Jeremiah stiffened. He looked at her. “It must be about the appeal.”

  Frank handed Jeremiah the letter.

  Gwyn squeezed his hand. “Open it. God’s in control, remember? No matter what it says, our trust is in Him.”

  He nodded. The rip of the envelope rent the air. Jeremiah inhaled long and deep.

  Gwyn gave him a couple moments as he read, but the anxious thoughts swirling in her brain showed none of that patience. His eyes widened and he looked at her in disbelief. Gwyn couldn’t stand it. “Well? What does it say?”

  Jeremiah handed her the letter. She read it aloud.

  “Jeremiah,

  “After a full investigation, the medical board has cleared you of any wrongdoing and has reinstated your medical license, effective immediately. There will be no formal charges of negligence. Also, Randolph Brewster has been removed from the board of directors.

  “Please contact me as soon as you receive this.

  “Sincerely,

  Howard”

  Gwyn lowered the letter and met Jeremiah’s smiling face. “You’ve been cleared! God has interceded for you!” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close. “Oh, this is the best possible news. I only wish Father could have lived to see it.”

  “He knows,” Jeremiah said confidently. “He always knew. He told me as much.” He glanced back toward the grave site. “Even when I didn’t believe in myself, your father believed in me.”

  Gwyn nodded. “I know he did. He loved you very much. And so do I.”

  Epilogue

  DECEMBER 20, 1935

  Everyone from the colony crammed into the community building. All the children were seated together on the floor at the front of the room.

  Gwyn glanced around at all the smiling faces. They’d made it. Their first Christmas. As fall came in with a swift wind, the temperatures dropped and the snows came, but the people had kept their chins up and worked themselves to the bone, even though the nights in the tent homes grew chilly. Everyone came together and helped one another, chopping excessive amounts of wood for the stoves so that the families still living in tents would be able to keep the fires going.

  But finally the last home had been finished, just a few days prior, and now everyone had at least four walls around them instead of the chilly tents. Most of the homes were still simple skeletons, but the colonists could spend their winter months finishing up the insides. They were happy simply to have a roof over their heads.

  The harvest had been plentiful. And the men had hunted and fished, so no one was afraid of not having enough food to feed their families. All in all, the colonists were a family. They’d been through deaths, heartache, disappointment, and times of worry. But through it all, they knew they would stand by one another. Spirits were high in the little colony as they approached the festive season of celebrating Christ’s birth.

  Jeremiah walked up to Gwyn and put his arm around her waist. “Hi there, beautiful.”

  “Hi.” She smiled up at him. Why the Lord had chosen to bless her with such a wonderful man was beyond her. But she would always be thankful.

  Giggles and cheers brought her attention back to the children. The train that morning had brought an abundance of gifts for the colony children. The Alaska Railroad, steamship companies, and organizations all over the States had sent presents for the first Christmas up in the Matanuska Colony. Christmas would be spent with friends and neighbors rather than with extended family, but from the smiles around the room, Gwyn didn’t think anyone minded.

  She shook her head. They’d all come so far in seven short months.

  The laughter filling the room reminded her of God’s abundance and love. Even in one of the hardest times the country had ever seen, people came together and worked hard. They loved. They laughed. They had built a community.

  Jeremiah squeezed her waist, and she leaned into him. It was almost time. The paper-strewn floor attested to the fact that the children were almost done.

  Gwyn glanced out the window. The snow blew sideways and the wind howled. Her father used to tell her to hold on tight on days like these. And then he’d tell her about a time when she was little: One day the wind picked her up off her feet and she flew—but she was saved because she’d been holding on to her father’s hand.

  His words echoed through her mind, “It’s just like that in our spiritual walk too, Gwyn. The enemy is going to blow that wind as hard as he can, but you’ve got to hold on tight to your Father’s hand.”

  Gwyn smiled. But the tears still threatened to spill. She missed her earthly father today, but she knew her heavenly Father was watching every moment.

  Rose walked up, her beautiful new little baby in her arms.

  “Oh, she’s so precious. What did you name her?” Gwyn reached out for the tiny one.

  “Her name is Hope. For the future we have in Jesus and for our new start here in Alaska.”

  The beauty of the moment forced Gwyn to close her eyes, and a single tear escaped. “That’s perfect, Rose.” Opening her eyes, she hugged her friend and handed the baby back. “Thank you for standing up with me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Women bustled around the room, cleaning up and scooting the children to the back corner. Men brought chairs forward, and Reverend Bingle strode to the front with his Bible.

  Jeremiah grabbed her hand and took her to the window. “It’s a beautiful day for a wedding, don’t you think?”

  She gazed at the blowing snow. “Yes, I believe it is.”

  Sadzi rushed in the side door and winked at Jeremiah.

  Gwyn placed her hands on her hips. “Now, what exactly are you two up to?”

  Her best friend swung off her coat and threw her black braid over one shoulder. “Oh, nothing. Just helping Jeremiah with a small errand.” Sadzi didn’t look Gwyn in the eye, but her grin was unmistakable as she scooted around Gwyn and fluffed the skirt of her wedding gown.

  Nasnana had ordered a beautiful, lush red velvet fabric in an overabundance of yardage so she could give Gwyn the gift of a beautiful gown. Trimmed in white satin and a wide white satin sash at the waist, Gwyn felt like a princess. The older woman had done so much for her through the years, and Gwyn appreciated this special gift. She’d be able to wear it today and also every Christmas and be reminded not only of God’s love in sending His Son as a sacrifice for all mankind but also of the love of a very special man here on earth.

  Tears pricked her eyes as the ceremony began a short time later and Sadzi passed her a bouquet of handmade paper flowers. Red and white ribbons flowed to the floor from their stems. A hush settled over the crowd as the pastor prayed over the couple.

  Was her earthly father watching from heaven? Would her mother be proud of her? A dozen different thoughts flitted through her mind until Jeremiah took her hand in his and squeezed. All other thoughts left her brain as she trained her focus on the
man in front of her. The man she would spend the rest of her life loving. Jeremiah’s eyes twinkled as a smile lifted his lips, radiating through his whole face.

  In a matter of minutes, their vows were spoken and the good reverend blessed their union with a reading of Scripture. “‘But from the beginning of the creation God made them male and female. For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and cleave to his wife; And they twain shall be one flesh: so then they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.’

  “I now pronounce you man and wife! Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you Dr. and Mrs. Jeremiah Vaughan.”

  Cheers erupted as two men pushed the huge outer doors of the community center open.

  Nasnana threw a red velvet cape over Gwyn’s shoulders, and Jeremiah grabbed his overcoat from Earl Albrecht as they ran out the doors.

  In the middle of the snow-covered street, Jeremiah stopped and drew her close. “I love you, Gwyneth Vaughan.”

  The wind howled.

  “I love you too.” She reached up and kissed him. Long and deep. “Where are we going?”

  “That, my dear, is part of the surprise.” The train whistle blew in the distance. “But if we don’t hurry, we’ll miss our train.”

  “But I’m not packed! We didn’t plan to go anywhere.”

  Sadzi appeared at her side and handed her a small velvet bag that matched her dress and cape. “Not to worry. We’ve taken care of everything.”

  Gwyn laughed as her new husband leaned in and kissed her again. “Our bags are already there,” he said, his voice husky and deep as he pulled away. “Sadzi and Nasnana took care of everything for you.” Grabbing her hand, he started running for the train.

  Snowballs hit them from every angle—a good old Alaskan sendoff. The train whistle sounded again, and Jeremiah scooped her into his arms, snowballs pelting the ground around them.

  Gwyn snuggled her face against his neck and giggled. The cold and snow didn’t bother her one bit. She was with Jeremiah, and nothing else mattered.