Hidden History
ISBN-13: 978-0-8249-4709-5
ISBN-10: 0-8249-4709-6
Published by Guideposts
16 East 34th Street
New York, New York 10016
www.guideposts.com
Copyright © 2007 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
Distributed by Ideals Publications, a division of Guideposts
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Nashville, Tennessee 37214
Guideposts, Ideals and Tales from Grace Chapel Inn are registered trademarks of Guideposts.
The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Carlson, Melody.
Hidden history / Melody Carlson.
p. cm. — (Tales from Grace Chapel Inn)
ISBN-13: 978-0-8249-4709-5
1. Sisters—Fiction. 2. Bed and breakfast accommodations—Fiction. 3. Fathers—Fiction. 4. Pennsylvania—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3553.A73257H53 2007
813′.54—dc22
2006021345
Cover art by Deborah Chabrian
Designed by Marisa Jackson
Typeset by Nancy Tardi
Printed and bound in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
GRACE CHAPEL INN
A place where one can be
refreshed and encouraged,
a place of hope and healing,
a place where God is at home.
Chapter One
The day was clear and sunny, and a crisp breeze rustled the leaves of the big maple tree in front of the large Victorian house. Alice Howard breathed deeply as she strolled up the walkway, pausing to admire her sister Jane’s terra-cotta pots, now spilling over with chrysanthemums in a rich array of russets, reds and golds. Alice could feel autumn in the air, and she was ready for this long hot summer to come to an end. It was still a bit early, but she looked forward to things like leaves crunching underfoot and steaming mugs of hot cider and orange pumpkins piled by the front door. She sighed with sweet contentment as she walked up the front steps to their wide and welcoming front porch.
“Hello there,” called her older sister from the shadows.
“Oh!” Alice jumped in surprise. “Goodness, I didn’t even see you there, Louise.”
Louise chuckled. “I thought you were daydreaming.” She patted the swing. “Come sit with me and chat.”
Alice had barely set her bag down and joined Louise on the swing before Wendell sprang from the corner and landed on her lap. “Hey, big boy,” she crooned. “How are you doing?” She was answered with a contented purring sound as the heavy cat settled himself comfortably in her lap.
“Silly old cat,” said Louise as she reached over and scratched his head. “You would think that he would want a cooler place to sleep on a warm afternoon.”
“Oh, Wendell’s always been a snuggler.”
“Care for some lemonade?” asked Louise as she reached for the pitcher and an empty glass.
“That sounds lovely.”
Louise handed her the cool glass. “How was work?”
“Pretty busy for the middle of the week,” said Alice. “I guess everyone was out trying to enjoy the last of their summer vacations. We had a car wreck involving a family of five, a girl who’d been thrown from a horse, as well as several cases of food poisoning from the Pine Grove youth camp.”
“Good grief!” exclaimed Louise. “Were they all right?”
“Yes, thankfully, by the end of the day not one of our patients was in anything worse than fair condition and all appear to be headed toward full recovery.”
“Thank goodness for that. Your job is really exciting at times.”
Alice smiled. “At times, but mostly it’s routine. I’m grateful for that. I can do without days like today.”
Louise patted her on the knee. “Well, you should be relieved to know that we will not have any guests until tomorrow. We will all enjoy a nice quiet evening tonight.”
“Oh, that sounds good. Where’s Jane?” asked Alice. “In her garden?”
“The last I saw she was in the kitchen about knee-deep in lemons.”
“Just to make lemonade?”
“Actually, Aunt Ethel dropped off two boxes of lemons this morning. According to her, Lloyd’s brother from California showed up with about a ‘truck load’ of them. Lloyd has been sharing them with everyone in town. Jane started out with lemonade, but that barely made a dent in them.” Louise chuckled. “I will say this, the house smells delicious.”
“Well, it’s a good way to bring summer to an end,” said Alice.
“It does feel as if fall is creeping up on us.”
Alice leaned her head against the back of the swing and sighed. “Can you believe it’s been nearly a year since Father passed away?”
“It does not seem possible.”
“It’s exactly one year on Friday,” Alice said.
“Yes, that is one date I will not forget, but I have never been as good as you with dates.”
“Somehow remembering dates has always been easy for me.” Alice set down her empty glass. “Even as a little girl I knew everyone’s birthday and Mother and Father’s anniversary and all sorts of little things. In the last few years Father often relied on me to be his walking calendar.” She chuckled. “In fact, I just reminded Pastor Thompson that next Sunday is Grandparents Day. I hope he didn’t think I was trying to interfere. Father always liked to give the grandmothers a carnation on that day.”
Louise adjusted her glasses as she counted the stitches on her latest knitting project. “Well, I will probably never be the lucky recipient of a Grandparents Day carnation.”
Just then the youngest sister stepped out with a plate of lemon squares. “What’s this you’re complaining about, Louise?” she asked as she set the china plate on the nearby wicker table, nodding an invitation.
“Not being a grandmother,” Alice answered for Louise as she reached for a sticky yellow bar. “Oh, Jane, these look lovely.”
“I am not complaining,” said Louise as she set aside her knitting in exchange for a lemon square. “I just doubt that Cynthia will ever make me a grandmother. Goodness knows I would be thrilled just to see her married and settled down. But, of course, she is a busy career woman, and I think she is waiting for Mr. Right to come along.”
“What’s wrong with that?” said Jane as she refilled their glasses. “I was older than Cynthia when I married, and sometimes I wish I’d waited a little longer myself.”
Alice reached over and patted Jane’s hand. “How were you to know things would turn out that way with Justin back then, Jane?”
“That’s true enough,” said Jane. “But being nearly forty and never married, well, I think maybe I just panicked.”
“Panicked?” said Louise with raised brows. “It is hard to imagine your panicking about anything, Jane.”
Jane tossed her oldest sister an indulgent smile. “Oh, sure, I probably come across as in control most of the time, especially if I have a lot of confidence in an area, cooking or gardening, for instance.”
“Or decorating or art,” added Alice.
“But
when it comes to romance…” Jane sadly shook her head. “Well, I’m just not too savvy about things of the heart.”
“Maybe it’s a family trait,” suggested Alice. “It’s never been my strongest suit either.”
“Well, speak for yourself,” said Louise. “I think I fared quite well in the love and romance arena. Eliot and I came close to celebrating forty years of blissful marriage before he was called to his eternal reward.”
“Blissful?” Jane’s brow furrowed slightly. “I can remember a couple of times when you and Eliot weren’t even speaking to each other. How about that Christmas back in 1978 when you showed up here by yourself, and Father had to—”
“Oh, we don’t need to go back there, Jane.” Alice smoothed her hand over Wendell’s furry coat. “Perhaps Louise’s memories have grown sweeter with the passing of time.”
Louise nodded. “Yes, Alice is absolutely right. I probably have forgotten a few unhappy things over the past few years, but for the most part, Eliot and I were quite content together.”
“Isn’t it interesting that of the three Howard women, only one of us had a happy marriage?” Jane asked.
“Father and Mother had a very happy marriage,” said Alice.
“Yes,” agreed Louise. “I never saw any other couple more in love than those two.”
Jane reached for a second lemon square. “Well, I guess I’ll have to take your word for that.”
Alice nodded. “It’s true, Jane. They were completely devoted to each other. How Father grieved for Mother after she died. It was no surprise that he never married again.”
“And, goodness knows, he had his chances,” said Louise.
“That’s right,” said Alice. “There was a time when it seemed like every widow in Acorn Hill was chasing him.”
“Not to mention the divorcées.” Louise started to laugh. “Do you remember Mrs. Paulson, Alice?”
“Phoebe Paulson!” Alice slapped her hand over her mouth to suppress her giggles. A frightened Wendell leaped from her lap to the porch. “Oh, my, I’d nearly forgotten about her.”
“What happened?” asked Jane with eager curiosity.
Both Alice and Louise were laughing so hard that neither of them could speak.
Jane frowned. “Come on, you guys, tell me the story of Mrs. Paulson.”
“You tell her,” sputtered Alice.
“Where do I start?” Louise pulled out a lace-trimmed handkerchief.
“Was that the lady who worked at the pet shop when I was little?” persisted Jane. “I remember I got a hamster there once, and it died the next day, but she wouldn’t give me my money back.”
“Yes,” Louise nodded as she dabbed her nose with her handkerchief. “That was probably after the incident with Father. She never did like us much after that.”
“It wasn’t long after that little incident that she moved away,” said Alice.
“What happened?” demanded Jane.
“Well, it was summertime,” began Louise. “As I recall, I had recently come home from my first year at college. Alice must have been about sixteen. Apparently Phoebe Paulson had moved into town a few months earlier, and as you said, Jane, she worked at the pet shop.”
“The pet shop went out of business later on that year,” said Alice.
“Just a coincidence, I am sure,” said Louise.
“On with the story,” said Jane with increasing impatience.
“Right. Mrs. Paulson had started attending Grace Chapel services in the spring.”
“After she noticed what a good looking widower the pastor was,” injected Alice.
“Yes. I am sure that must have influenced her considerably.” Louise cleared her throat. “Well, I could tell right from the start that this woman was trouble. She was going for the Marilyn Monroe look. Her hair was bleached platinum blond, and her dresses were so tight that I thought she was going to burst right through the seams.”
“She was a bit plump,” injected Alice.
“She wore far too much makeup, and her perfume could knock you over if you were downwind from her.”
“She drove a brand-new red convertible,” said Alice. “I think it was a Pontiac, and I must admit that, at sixteen, I thought it was rather nice.”
“Yes, and she liked to park that flashy automobile right in front of our house when she came over for church services,” continued Louise.
“She only lived a few blocks away.”
“She would slowly get out of her car, making a huge production of it. Then she would strut past our house and toward the church as if she were a famous movie star. I am sure she was hoping to catch Father’s eye.”
Jane laughed. “And did she?”
“Well, to be honest, I think most of the males in Acorn Hill were aware of her. She was not beautiful—certainly not in the way that Mother had been, but I suppose she was attractive in a flashy way.”
“In those days divorce was still a bit of a scandal,” added Alice. “But Father, as usual, was gracious and kind to her, and for the most part the congregation followed his example.”
“Actually that might have helped to give her the wrong idea,” said Louise. “It did not take long for her to start playing the damsel in distress. First it was a flat tire right in front of our house.”
“Convenient,” said Jane.
“Yes.” Louise rolled her eyes. “It was a puncture. Even in the summer’s heat, Father got down on his knees, still wearing his Sunday suit, and fixed it for her.”
“She thanked him by making a coconut cream pie,” said Alice, making a face. “Worst pie we’d ever tasted. Crust just like cardboard.”
Jane chuckled. “Then what happened?”
“Well, it seemed that Phoebe decided to give a dinner party—to get better acquainted with people from town, she said,” continued Louise. “Naturally, she invited Father.”
“And?” said Jane.
“Father went.” Louise shook her head.
“What was wrong with that?” asked Jane, leaning forward.
“Well, when Father got to Phoebe’s there were no other guests.”
“Phoebe had this romantic-looking table set for two,” said Louise. “Father said she had candles and flowers everywhere.”
Jane shook her head in astonishment. “Wow, this woman didn’t beat around the bush, did she?”
“Not a bit. Well, Father was back home again within minutes. The look on his face was absolutely priceless. His hair was all mussed up and his bowtie was crooked.” Louise began laughing.
“Did he tell you what had happened?” asked Jane.
Louise stifled her laughter. “Actually, the first thing he said was to get him an ice pack.”
“An ice pack?” Jane looked confused.
“Apparently, he had been making some sort of excuse to Phoebe about why he could not stay for dinner after all. Knowing Father’s sense of integrity, he was probably trying to come up with something that was actually true. Well, as he was backing up, he ran up against an ottoman and toppled backward, thumping his head on a coffee table. He had a nice little lump, too.”
Jane was giggling now. “Oh, I can just imagine that. Poor Father.”
“So I fixed him an ice pack and insisted that he tell me the whole story.” Louise’s face grew stern with the memory. “After hearing what had happened, I was completely outraged at that silly woman. While Father was out of earshot, I telephoned her and gave her a serious piece of my mind.”
“You didn’t?” said Jane.
“I most certainly did.” Louise firmly nodded her head.
Now Jane glanced over to where Alice was quietly listening. “Where were you when all this took place?”
“I’d gone out with friends that night,” said Alice. “Where was I?” asked Jane.
“You were so little that we’d already put you to bed.”
“Always missing out on the good stuff.” Jane sighed and then continued her questioning. “How did Father feel about everything? I m
ean he was such a dignified gentleman, not to mention a respected pastor … why, I’m sure he must’ve felt silly.”
Louise nodded. “At first, he seemed confused, and I thought perhaps it was a result of the blow to his head. But later on that evening, I found him sitting in his den looking so dejected.”
“Poor Father,” said Jane.
“I went in and talked to him about it some more. He felt guilty, as if he had somehow led that brazen woman on. I assured him that some women were just like that and that he must not blame himself one little bit.” Louise smiled. “It turned out to be one of our best father-daughter chats ever. I hugged him and told him that I was proud to have him as my father. Then I confessed what I had said over the phone. I felt certain he would be disappointed with me. I knew it was not a very Christian way to behave. And, goodness gracious, I was a minister’s daughter.”
“So, how did he react?”
“Well, he just threw back his head and laughed. Honestly, I do not think I had ever heard him laugh so hard. Then he grew sober and thanked me, but he also made me promise to forgive her, as well as not repeat the events of the evening to anyone.”
“But it was too late,” said Alice. “I had just come home and heard Father laughing in the den. So I popped my head in and insisted upon hearing what was so funny. We sat in the kitchen until fairly late that night, enjoying a good laugh over ice cream and berries.”
“And I slept through the whole thing?” Jane looked dismayed.
“Oh, Jane, you were only about four or five—too young to understand something like that. If it makes you feel any better, you are now the only other one, besides us, who knows the whole silly story,” said Louise with a firm nod. “Even Aunt Ethel never heard about this.”
“That’s right,” agreed Alice. “I suppose we should keep it that way.”
Jane grinned, then winked. “Don’t worry. The family’s scandalous secret is perfectly safe with me.”
Louise waved her hand. “Phooey, Jane, the Howard family does not have any scandalous secrets.”
Jane’s eyebrows lifted mysteriously. “Oh, every family has its secrets, Louise. They just don’t realize it until they stumble over them.”
Hidden History Page 1
