Secrets of My Heart

by Tracie Peterson

  “To your husband?” Aunt Hope asked. “Is this about losing him?”

  “No.” Nancy shook her head. “It’s about Seth Carpenter.” She didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt compelled to tell them everything. “He came to Portland with his sister. She boards at my house.”

  “Yes, we knew he was there. His mother told me at church several months ago. Gabe was so excited to see him again.”

  “Seth hired on with the lawyer I engaged to settle Albert’s affairs. I thought it was just coincidence, but recently I learned that Seth is there on a job for the government. He’s there investigating my husband—late husband.”

  “Investigating him for what?” Faith asked.

  Nancy shared what she knew about Albert’s dealings and brought the conversation back around to Seth. “The trouble is, he made it seem like he cared for me, and I fell for his lies. I lost my heart to him completely.”

  “What makes you suppose it to be a lie?” Mother asked. “That hardly sounds like the Seth we knew.”

  “But that Seth was back east for a long time. He could have changed completely. Apparently he did, because I, too, thought him trustworthy.”

  “Then why suppose he isn’t?”

  “Because everything I just told you about him working with the government to search out my late husband’s illegal activities is something he never bothered to tell me. He kept it hidden. And he suspected I was involved! I only learned of it because Gabe was trying to talk him into being honest with me, and I overheard.”

  “Gabe knew?” Mother asked.

  “Apparently. Although I don’t know how long he’s known. He was trying to convince Seth to be honest with me, which I greatly appreciate. But Seth didn’t want to.”

  “It doesn’t mean that his feelings for you are a lie,” Faith said matter-of-factly.

  “Why not? Everything else is. Why should that one thing be true when he lied about everything else?”

  “Well, we’re here to pray,” Faith reminded them. “So let’s pray about this as well. I think, given your feelings for him, that it’s important that you give him a chance to explain. We can pray that you’ll have not only the opportunity but the words and open heart to receive his explanation and determine the truth.”

  “I think Faith makes a good point,” Mother said, reaching over to take Nancy’s hand. “Why don’t we pray?”

  Church was surprisingly pleasant. There was a new minister, but he was quite good at teaching the Word and had a gentleness about him that instantly put Nancy at ease. After services, she spoke with most of the congregation—old family friends and neighbors. The one family she hadn’t thought about encountering was Seth’s.

  “We were sorry to hear about your husband,” Mrs. Carpenter said. She gave Nancy a hug. “I’ve been praying for you to find comfort.”

  “Thank you. God has definitely been good to me.” Nancy felt awkward speaking to Seth’s mother. She was still so hurt by what he’d done.

  “Clementine tells us that your boardinghouse was an answer to her prayers. Her biggest concern was where she would live.”

  “It was our biggest concern as well.” The male voice belonged to Mr. Carpenter, and Nancy was startled by how much Seth resembled his father.

  “She is a very welcome addition.” Nancy tried not to show her discomfort. “It’s been wonderful to rekindle our friendship.”

  “Clem mentioned Seth spending a fair amount of time there as well,” Mr. Carpenter said with the same boyish grin that Nancy had come to love on his son.

  “Yes, well, we do get our fair share of visitors.” Nancy glanced toward her mother, who was speaking to the pastor. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe Mother is ready to go.”

  She hurried away before the Carpenters could say anything more. Hopefully she hadn’t offended them.

  “There you are,” her mother said. “Pastor Willis, this is my daughter Nancy.”

  The older man smiled. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from your folks.”

  Nancy smiled and shook his hand. “I very much enjoyed your sermon, Pastor Willis.”

  “It’s hard to go wrong when you preach straight from the Word. I find using anything other than the Bible to be a tedious experience that results in very little.”

  Nancy nodded, uncertain what to say.

  Thankfully, Mother interceded. “Well, we should be on our way.”

  They bid the pastor good-bye and paused only momentarily to speak to others on their way to the wagon.

  “I’m so glad you came with us today,” Mother said as they climbed onto the wagon. “Now, if we can just find Meg.” She looked across the churchyard.

  Nancy spied her sister talking to several girls who looked her age. Nancy gave Meg a wave when she glanced up, and although Meg looked less than happy to leave, she gave her friends each an embrace, then ran to the wagon. Nancy reached down to help her sister up.

  “I wish we could stay and visit,” Meg said. “Sarah was telling me her plans for the party.”

  “It’ll be here soon enough,” Mother declared, “and then you won’t have to worry about getting the details.”

  Nancy couldn’t help but smile as Meg settled into the seat behind them. She might have been very much like her little sister had Douglas not died. Social and outgoing, excited about the latest fashions. Nancy had lost far more because of her brother’s death than she had ever realized.

  “Are you going to stay for a long time?” Meg asked after Monday morning’s prayer and Bible reading.

  Nancy shook her head. She knew she would soon have to think about heading home.

  “No. I have a home in Portland. I run a boardinghouse for several ladies. Most are of limited means and depend on me to provide for them.”

  “Who’s taking care of them now?” Meg asked, flipping back one of her braids. “Why can’t they just keep managing it for you so you can stay here?”

  Nancy saw that her mother seemed to have the same question in mind. “Because it’s my responsibility, and I like it there. I only came here for a couple of days to sort through some problems.”

  “What kind of problems?” Meg stopped eating and cocked her head to one side. “Mama says we should always help one another with our problems. Can I help?”

  Nancy shook her head. “I wish you could. Instead, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to these last eight years?” It was hard to look at the dark-headed, dark-eyed girl and not think of the years that had passed. Meg had been a child when Nancy had left—just a couple years older than Douglas when he’d died. She’d avoided having much to do with her new sibling for fear of dealing with the loss should anything happen. She considered Meg. She was a petite and pretty little girl—well, not so little anymore. She was fourteen, and before Nancy knew it, she would be grown.

  “I go to school and work. That’s all I ever get to do.” Meg gave a dramatic sigh.

  “Didn’t you say there’s a birthday party for one of your friends on Saturday?”

  “Yes, but that’s rare. Folks can’t always afford to have a party.” Meg looked momentarily downcast, then perked up. “But Sarah’s folks are rich. They’ll give her a good party. That’s why I just have to go. Besides, Sarah is my best friend.”

  “Well, attending the party of a best friend sounds very important.”

  “Oh, it is. Sarah said I can help her open her presents. I get to write down everything that she gets and who it’s from so she can send thank-you cards to everyone. She has special stationery just for that purpose. Isn’t that marvelous? I wish I had special stationery.”

  “Perhaps you shall one day.” Nancy smiled at her sister’s dreamy expression. Would that fancy stationery could fix all of her problems. “What did you get Sarah for her birthday?”

  “Mother suggested I embroider a pair of pillowcases for her hope chest. Would you like to see them?”

  “Of course.”

  Meg jumped up from the table a
nd made a mad dash from the room.

  Nancy chuckled. “I didn’t mean she had to get them right now.”

  Mother laughed. “Everything with Meg is right now. She has more energy than I can muster. But she keeps us laughing and reminds us of our blessings. She’s definitely fonder of your father than me. Mostly because he always brings her treats when he goes to town or travels. She’s so spoiled by him that I have to be the one to stand firm.”

  “That hardly seems fair.” Nancy remembered it had been the same for her, however. “I guess children will take advantage of whoever benefits them the most. I recall being the same way. I suppose I owe you a big apology.”

  “Here they are,” Meg announced, bringing the folded pillowcases into the kitchen. “I worked very hard on them.”

  Nancy inspected the embroidered flower border. “The work is very well done, but the test is to see the back.” She turned the edge of the pillowcase to reveal very neat and orderly stitches. “You get a star for making the back as lovely as the front.”

  Meg beamed. “Thank you.”

  Later in the day, Meg took Nancy on a tour of the sheep barns and to the pen where the lambs were being kept. Weaning was in process, and Meg informed Nancy of everything that had been done and was going to be done. Then she took Nancy to her favorite places around the farm. Some of them had been Nancy’s favorites.

  To Nancy’s surprise, however, Meg walked to the tiny family cemetery. Nancy had never even considered visiting this place.

  “I love it here,” Meg said, pushing open the little wooden gate. “It makes me feel like God is right here with me.”

  Nancy walked to Douglas’s grave, which was marked with an engraved stone. His name and the years of his birth and death were all that was given. Not far from where he’d been laid to rest was a grave belonging to the infant daughter of Aunt Hope and Uncle Lance. Thankfully there were no other graves.

  “I come here sometimes and bring flowers. I didn’t know Douglas or Aunt Hope’s baby Charity, but they’re still family, so I like to come and remember them.”

  Nancy was touched by her sister’s heart. She hadn’t returned to Douglas’s grave since the funeral. “Charity Kenner died at birth, so no one really got to know her, but Douglas was a sweet boy, and everyone loved him.”

  “That’s what Mama says. Do you know she still cries when she talks about him?”

  Nancy didn’t think about her mother’s pain often, but she knew that the pain she felt over Douglas had brought her to tears for many years. She had always selfishly thought her pain was greater than anyone else’s.

  “I don’t imagine a mother ever stops hurting over the loss of a child,” Nancy murmured. How she wished she had been more comforting to her mother instead of turning away from her—from all of her loved ones—after Douglas died.

  Meg cleared some grass away from the headstone and smiled. “Mama said I was her consolation. She said God sent me specifically to bring joy back to our family. She almost called me Joy—did you know that?”

  Nancy shook her head. “No, I don’t think I did.”

  Meg looked up at her. “I wish she had. I like the name Joy.”

  “Well, it’s clear that you’re full of joy.” Nancy smiled, but the feeling was bittersweet. Meg might also have been her consolation. Instead, Nancy had thrown away the chance of happiness in her sister’s company because of her fears of loss.

  “I wish we could have been close,” Meg said, straightening. She fixed her gaze on Nancy. “Mama said that losing Douglas broke your heart and you were afraid to love me.”

  Nancy hadn’t expected this conversation and felt embarrassed. What could she say to her sister? It was true, but to admit it was to see her shallow and wretched heart for what it was.

  “I was afraid,” Nancy barely murmured. “I’m still afraid of so much.”

  Meg took Nancy’s hand. “You don’t have to be. The Bible says perfect love casteth out fear. Perfect love is God’s love for us. Did you know that?”

  Tears came to Nancy’s eyes. “I think I’m learning it.”

  Meg hugged her older sister. “Don’t be afraid anymore, Nancy. I love you and God loves you.”

  Nancy wrapped her arms around Meg and let her tears fall freely. Out of the mouth of babes came healing.

  By the time evening rolled around and supper was called, Nancy had been completely reimmersed in Armistead-Kenner Farms. She felt her spirit had been set free from its prison as she reacquainted herself with her family. Her time with Meg at the cemetery had given her more healing than she’d ever thought possible. Still, she was concerned about going back to Portland to face Seth. She loved him, but obviously he didn’t feel the same way.

  At dinner with her aunt and uncle, cousins, and parents, as well as the vivacious Meg, Nancy watched the camaraderie between her family. Faith’s brothers Sean and Ed were absent, since they had married and lived elsewhere with farms and families of their own, but her youngest brother, Brandon, who was the same age as Meg, was happy to entertain them with stories of his summer escapades.

  “I caught an even bigger fish than Pa did,” he said, holding his hands out to demonstrate its length. “It was huge, at least two feet long.”

  “That fish gets bigger every time he tells the story,” Uncle Lance said, rolling his gaze heavenward.

  “It was a whopper. You said so yourself,” Brandon protested as he pushed a lock of brown hair back from his face.

  “Something was a whopper, that’s for sure,” his mother said before Uncle Lance could answer.

  “I sure miss James. I hoped he’d come home for the summer,” Mother said, “but I think there’s a young lady.”

  Lance laughed. “There always is.”

  Nancy smiled, but the comment reminded her of Seth. She wondered if he’d found the cache of weapons and if that had given him the proof he needed. She wondered if he would wrap up the investigation and leave before she returned home, or if he even knew she was gone. Most of all, she wondered how she was ever going to stop loving him.

  Chapter 20

  Seth used the binoculars to better observe what was going on below. They had the advantage of the high ground this time, and while they couldn’t make out everything going on below, they knew that Hanson’s men had found another cache and that this one had some of the goods they were seeking.

  “They’re loading the wagon,” Seth told Gabe in a hushed voice. “Where do you suppose they mean to take it all?”

  “Hard to tell, but my guess is back to Portland and then to whatever reservation they’ve targeted.”

  “The same one your uncle works with.” Seth lowered the binoculars. “The whole reason I’m here is that we traced the shipments from his reservation back to Portland.”

  Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “You think Uncle Adam knows about this?”

  “Unfortunately, the evidence suggests it.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Then your evidence is wrong. My uncle would never do anything to incite the natives to war. His family lives on the reservation, for grief’s sake. He’s not going to have the Indians running amok with guns.”

  “Are you sure about that? I mean, how well do you know him?”

  “Very well, and I know my Aunt Mercy even better. She’d throttle him if he turned in that direction. No, your information is dead wrong. Those two are completely devoted to helping the Indians survive life on the reservation and learn how to live with the white man. It’s gotta be somebody else.”

  “I wish I could be as confident of that as you are.”

  There was some commotion down below as the men loaded the final crates. Seth held up his hand to silence Gabe and listened as one of the men gave the order to move out.

  Since Seth and Gabe had already gathered their things and packed them on the horses, they sat hidden until the wagon and riders had cleared the area and pushed on. Giving Hanson’s men a good head start, Seth and Gabe followed at a leisurely pace, careful to keep themselves
hidden and off the main road as much as possible.

  It wasn’t long until the trail led to the river again, only this time it was to a ferryman and what appeared to be the only river crossing for miles in either direction.

  “I think it’s best we wait up here out of sight until they’re well across. We can watch with the binoculars and see where they head once they’re on the opposite side of the river.”

  “They leave a trail big enough for a child to follow,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “I don’t think we have to worry about keeping them in view.”

  Seth nodded and lifted the binoculars all the same. He had already identified Newt Hanson but was trying to figure out if he knew or had seen any of the other men. The flat, open ferry gave him a clear view, and since none of the men seemed inclined to hide their faces, he could do a lengthy study of each one. At least until they reached the other side.

  “Hey, one of them isn’t going aboard,” Gabe said, pushing Seth down. “Looks like he’s coming back this way.”

  Seth had been squatting by a stand of small trees in order to keep out of sight. Gabe’s push sent him to his backside, and Gabe hurried to duck into the brush beside him. Thankfully they’d hidden their horses farther into the trees.

  The rider didn’t notice them as he flew by on his mount. Seth wondered where he was going in such a hurry. Was he taking word back to Portland? Was he summoning more help?

  “Where do you suppose he’s going?” Gabe asked.

  “I was just wondering that myself.” Seth shook his head and got back on his feet. He raised the binoculars again.

  The ferry hadn’t yet reached the other side of the river. Seth was impatient and wished he dared to let his horse swim the river. Such a choice would be foolish, though. The horse was rented, and Seth knew nothing about its capability.

  An hour later, it was Seth and Gabe’s turn on the ferry. Thankfully a few other folks had joined them, so they wouldn’t stand out. It was always possible the ferryman knew the men who were collecting the guns and whiskey.