Forever Hidden

by Tracie Peterson

  None of them. Their mother was one of a kind.

  Whitney shook her head. These morbid thoughts weren’t healthy. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. But as soon as she closed them, she was transported back to Cripple Creek—to the last time she saw her father.

  She and Dad were out in the street in the middle of the day. Arguing. Because he’d decided that instead of staying home with them and helping them build the birdhouses like he’d promised, he was going back to the bar. And it was barely noon.

  At twelve years old, Whitney was tired of seeing how Dad’s drunkenness affected his decisions. The family. Others around him. He never worked anymore, and he gambled away their food and housing money almost every week. Every time he promised to work he never followed through.

  So she let him have it. Right there in the middle of the street. She was so mad, she didn’t care who heard her. Someone had to be the grown-up, and it might as well be her.

  Because of him, they lived in a tiny little shack. Because of him, they never had any money for anything pretty or nice. Because of him, the other kids in town made fun of them. That’s why Mama kept them home from school and taught them herself. So they wouldn’t have to hear any of it.

  Hurt had flashed through her father’s eyes as Whitney yelled at him. Telling him that he was a horrible father and husband. That he should just go away so they could live with their Granddad. He at least cared about them and wouldn’t gamble away all their money.

  Dad hadn’t said a word. Just shoved his hands in his pockets, lowered his chin, and walked away.

  Whitney never saw him again.

  She rolled over on her pallet. For thirteen years, she’d carried around the guilt of her last words to her father. Would she have said those things to him if she’d known he was going to die that day? Probably. Because she had a temper. And was headstrong.

  But she also would have hugged him and told him that she loved him.

  She’d carried the secret of what she’d done all this time. She could never let Mama or her sisters find out.

  The memory in the street flashed right back to her. She remembered feeling triumphant that she’d stood up for her mother and sisters. But as soon as they learned that Dad died, that feeling never came back.

  Shame and sorrow replaced it.

  Mama had been nagging her for years to work on forgiving. Was that even possible? How could she forgive her dad for all that he’d done to them?

  Mama’s voice echoed in her mind . . . “Talk to God about it, sweetheart. He understands forgiveness like no one else.”

  It was time she did just that. For Mama’s sake.

  God, it’s me again. You know I’ve had a hard time forgiving my father. And in truth, I don’t want to forgive him. But I know I should. Could You help me work on that? I don’t even know where to start. For Mama . . . and my sisters. Please.

  In the stillness of the night, Chuck lay in bed, working on moving his left arm and left leg. He felt completely useless.

  Determination filled him. Today, Havyn caught him up on everything that was going on at the farm. Then she mentioned that Melissa wasn’t improving. As his granddaughter chattered her way through how they were taking care of her, Chuck wanted to leap out of the bed and run to his daughter. But he couldn’t. All because he was crippled in this stupid bed.

  Doc Kingston said he could overcome it, get his movement back. And Chuck clung to that. It had taken so long for his mind to clear of the fog. And then even longer to string words together in his brain that made sense. But as his memory returned, so did his clarity of thought. But he still needed a way to communicate, since he couldn’t get his mouth to work. Which meant he needed the use of his hand. So far, he’d gotten pretty good at lifting his arm a few inches and moving each of his fingers. But every time they gave him something to hold, he couldn’t do it.

  So here he was. Lying in bed in the middle of the night, exercising.

  He could do this. He knew he could. It just took determination, willpower, and strength. He had the determination and willpower—now he just needed to work on strength.

  All his failures came rushing back to his mind every time he thought about his family. He’d left them in a bad position. That was unacceptable. He’d started a letter to them after the first time he was bedridden because they needed to know so many things. That there was plenty of money. That he wanted them to be taken care of for the rest of their lives. That he loved them. So he’d begun a confession of it all.

  But he’d placed it back in the box with the pencil and paper they kept for him. No one knew it was there, and he couldn’t tell them. Where was the box anyway? Somewhere under the bed or in the room . . .

  Blast! He had to regain movement. He had to communicate with them. So they wouldn’t worry.

  The only consolation he had was that John was here. He was a good man.

  Weary from lifting his arm up and down an inch, he thought of his girls. Even though he’d done everything to take care of them and protect them . . . it hadn’t been the right thing to do.

  Perhaps he would go to his grave without them ever knowing the truth.

  But it nagged at him. Maybe that was God. Telling him that he needed to come clean about the past.

  The thing was, he didn’t think he could do it. What would they think of him? The thought of any one of his girls despising him for what he’d done . . . he couldn’t take it.

  No. His secret would stay hidden. Hopefully forever.

  Twenty-Four

  The early-morning sun always invigorated Havyn. Which was a good thing because it was her turn to sit with Mama, and she tended to cry every time she saw her lying there, still and pale. So she went around the room tidying things up.

  Amka now came in the evenings so that two of the sisters could go perform at the Roadhouse and one could stay. They traded off nights so they could still bring in income, but the audiences would get to see them all over the course of the week. Really, it was nice to have a break.

  Sure, they were all tired, but nothing could be done about it.

  She stifled a yawn and found the package of the asthmatic cigarettes on the table beside the bed. But where were the others that Dr. Kingston said Mama should have? Maybe she could find them.

  She tapped her foot on the floor. Looking around the room, the only place she could think of would be under the bed. So she got down on her hands and knees. Sure enough! She found two medium-sized boxes. Sliding them out, she looked up to make sure Mama was still asleep. She hated going through her personal things, but it had to be done.

  The first box contained mementos from their childhoods. Pictures or cards they had made her. And, it appeared, a few love letters from their father. Havyn put it all back, not wanting to invade her mother’s privacy. Maybe one day, Mama would share with all of them about the treasures she kept in there.

  Lifting the lid of the second box, Havyn saw a box of the asthmatic cigarettes sitting right on top. Without looking at anything else, she took the package out and replaced the lid. Then she tucked both of the boxes back where she found them.

  Mama started to cough as Havyn stood back up. Struggling to breathe, Mama choked on the coughs.

  Havyn rushed to her side and helped Mama sit up. The doctor said it would help, and most of the time it did. But this time, her mother gagged and choked and sputtered while the coughing spasm continued. It was heartbreaking!

  It seemed to take forever for the coughing to stop, but once the spasm finally released, Havyn could tell their mother was still in distress. Once again, her lips had turned blue. It happened all too often lately.

  Havyn rushed for the matches and the cigarettes. Since she had the package from under the bed in her hands, she took one from it. Lighting the thin cigarette, she tried to coerce her mother to suck it in. A tiny puff. Another. But Mama’s wheezing worsened.

  Maybe this pack was too old?

  She raced around the bed to get the ones that Dr. Kin
gston had left. Lighting another, she put it to her mother’s lips. “Breathe, Mama. I need you to breathe. Please.”

  After several puffs of the cigarette, Mama relaxed a bit more and fell asleep. The blue tint to her lips began to fade.

  Both packages of the cigarettes sat on the bed. As Havyn examined them, she noticed a difference. The one from Dr. Kingston was spelled different than the other.

  An awful feeling filled her. She went to the doorway and called out for Madysen, who was with their grandfather.

  Her younger sister came running. “Is everything okay?”

  “I need you to go get John and Whitney. Right away.”

  Madysen looked worried, but she ran for the others.

  In a couple of minutes, they were all gathered in the hallway between the bedrooms.

  Havyn held out the packages. “Look at these.”

  “What’s wrong? So one of them is misspelled.” Whitney shrugged her shoulders.

  “That’s what I thought at first too.” Havyn took them back and opened the packages. “But I gave Mama one of these and it made her breathing worse. Then when I tried the other, it helped.” She pulled a cigarette out of each pack. “Smell them.”

  John was the first. His eyes widened as he passed them to Whitney. “They’re different.”

  “Exactly.” Havyn paced back and forth in the small hallway.

  Whitney studied her for a moment. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure. But something is definitely wrong. One of those is the correct medicine, and one of them is not.”

  John stepped closer to her. “Do you think Dr. Kingston knows that one isn’t medicine?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the problem. But we’ve been taking that man’s word on everything. We’ve paid bills for his visits, plus all the medications. It’s gotten quite expensive.” She held up the pack with the missing s. “And these were from him. He gave them to Mama before she got worse.”

  Whitney looked at each one of them. “Why don’t we send a telegram to Dr. Gordon. Tell him what’s happened, and that Mama is very sick. Maybe he will have some suggestions for us.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” Madysen nodded. “Dr. Gordon will know what to do.”

  “All right then, why don’t I go get the wagon.” John looked to her older sister. “Whitney, are you done with the dogs?”

  “Yes, for now.”

  “Good. Then you and Madysen can stay with your mother and grandfather. I’ll take Havyn into town, and we’ll send the telegram. Hopefully Dr. Gordon will be able to send us a response quickly. While we wait, we can go see Mr. Reynolds and see if he knows anything about all this. If we don’t hear back from Dr. Gordon straightaway, we’ll come back and try again tomorrow.”

  “That sounds like a good plan.” Whitney’s face was solemn. “Please hurry.”

  John walked away and Havyn looked to her sisters. “I have a very bad feeling about all this. Now I’m even more worried about Mama.”

  Madysen hugged her. “Every time I sit with her, it makes me cry.”

  “Me too.” Havyn hugged her sister back.

  “I’ll go in with Mama. That way Madysen can stay with Granddad a bit longer. Is he awake?”

  Madysen nodded. “He keeps moving his hand, but I don’t know what he means.”

  Whitney put a hand on Madysen’s arm. “That’s all right. Just try to keep his spirits up, and maybe soon he’ll be able to write again.”

  Madysen walked toward Granddad’s room. Whitney turned to Havyn. “I’m glad you noticed that about the cigarettes. Where’d you find the other box?”

  “Under Mama’s bed. I just started looking everywhere.”

  “Well, I’m glad you found them. I’ll go sit with her. Which ones are the good ones?”

  “These.” Havyn took the cigarettes out of the Kinsman’s box. “I’ll take the packages and the bad ones with me so they don’t get mixed up.”

  She walked down the hall and out to where John had the wagon waiting. Man, he was fast.

  He helped her up into the wagon. “I’m so sorry about all this, Havyn.”

  At the moment she couldn’t say anything. Tears swelled her throat, but she was so thankful for this man. God had brought him at just the right time.

  An hour later, they were at the telegraph office. Havyn had penned a lengthy—and costly—telegram to their family doctor in Walla Walla. Once they were assured it was off, they walked over to Reynolds’s shipping office.

  Judas met them at the door. “How are you two doing today?”

  Honesty was always the best policy. Havyn didn’t even smile in return. “Not all that great. Would you mind if we discussed something with you?”

  “Come on into my office.”

  John held the door for Havyn and she entered.

  Taking a seat in a plush chair, she sat ramrod straight. “Mr. Reynolds, I—we need to ask your advice on a delicate subject. So I need to ask you to keep this in confidence.”

  “Absolutely. You have my word. How can I help?” The man leaned back in his chair.

  “My mother was given a package of asthmatic cigarettes by Dr. Kingston a while back. Supposedly to help treat her asthma—which is quite severe.”

  “All right.” Mr. Reynolds nodded.

  Havyn pulled the two packages out of her bag. “When she came down with whooping cough, Dr. Kingston left another packet at the house. We were using that one for when she had attacks, but when I found this package—” she paused and pointed to the misspelled one—“I used it for Mama. Only problem was, it made her worse. So I used a cigarette out of the other packet. It did work. And it made me examine them more closely.”

  He reached over and took both of the packages. “Well, would you look at that. They’re exactly the same.”

  “Except one of them is missing an s,” John pointed out.

  Mr. Reynolds nodded. “Ah, yes. I see that. Which one is the good one?”

  “The one that says Kinsman’s.” Havyn stood up and showed him the variances. “If you smell them, you can tell the difference. I left the good ones at home for Mama.”

  He sniffed the boxes and set them down. “So we have a problem on our hands, don’t we?”

  She looked to John. He nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s why we came to you. As a trusted friend of the family.”

  “You haven’t gone to the sheriff yet?”

  “No, sir. We didn’t want to accuse the doctor just yet. But what if there are more people being given the wrong medicine?” John let out a long sigh. “People could die.”

  “This is indeed horrifying.” Judas took the cigarettes out of the fake package and then handed the packages back to Havyn. “Why don’t you take those home, since you need the correct ones but know what to look for in case there’s another box around the house. I’ll see if I can order some more on my own, so you have them for her. Let me do a little digging into how this could have happened.”

  “Thank you.” It was wonderful to have such a good friend.

  “In the meantime, I’ll check into this. Quietly.” He stood.

  “Thank you, Mr. Reynolds.” John held out his hand.

  The men shook and Havyn prayed that perhaps Dr. Gordon had received their message and had sent a response by now. “Thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome. Anything I can do to help. You just let me know.”

  John put his hand on her elbow and led her out of the shipping office and back to the telegraph office.

  Only a half hour had passed. Charlie shook his head as they entered.

  Havyn’s heart fell. If only they could hear from Doc Gordon soon. But what if he wasn’t even there? What would they do then?

  John escorted her out and helped her up into the wagon. “Don’t worry. I’ll come back first thing in the morning after chores and check. All right?”

  “All right.” She let out a deep sigh. “Go ahead and read it. Because there might be something that needs addressing r
ight away. I would hate for you to come all the way back to the farm, only for us to have to go right back and send another telegram.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Thank you, John.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. “For everything.”

  John rose an hour earlier than normal so he could get all his chores done before he left for town. Since it was just him, he could take a horse and make the ride that much faster. Although he missed the time with Havyn. At this point, he shouldn’t be thinking about that, though. Lives were on the line.

  When he reached the telegraph office, there was a telegram waiting. Opening it up, he scanned to make sure it was from Dr. Gordon. It was.

  But the news wasn’t encouraging. The good doctor didn’t think that Melissa staying in Nome was a good idea. He was going to wire a friend of his in Seattle and tell him about Mrs. Powell’s case.

  The big problem would be getting Melissa Powell there.

  After reading through the telegram several times, John realized he didn’t have many options. Somehow, he needed to find a way to pay for her transport to Seattle. And one of the girls would have to go with her. That would be two tickets.

  At this moment, they didn’t have the funds to do that.

  But they couldn’t risk Mrs. Powell’s life.

  God, what am I supposed to do?

  His gaze went to Reynolds’s shipping company. As much as John hated being in debt, he loved Havyn and her family more.

  Taking long strides, he went straight to Judas’s office.

  The man welcomed him. “Any news on Mrs. Powell?”

  “That’s actually why I’m here.” He tapped the telegram against his palm. “Dr. Gordon said we need to get Melissa to Seattle. On the next ship out. He’s got a doctor friend there that can treat her.”

  “Is it that bad?” The older man looked quite concerned.

  “I believe so. She’s gotten worse the past few days.”

  “Well, what can I do to help?”

  “Sir, I’m a man of my word and I do not like to be in debt, but I’m coming to you again for a large favor. I need a loan. Somehow, I’ve got to get Mrs. Powell and one of her daughters to Seattle.”