Forever Hidden

by Tracie Peterson

  “But one night, I finally had enough. I found out Christopher had been beaten up. In yet another bar fight. I already had everything in place, divorce papers and a way out for him. I went to Doc’s place. Told him if he signed the divorce papers, left, and never tried to see our family again, I would pay off all his debts and give him money to start over. I told him he needed to move away. He figured out that I wasn’t going to tell you, Melly, that you were divorced. He knew I would say he was dead. It only seemed to bother him for a moment. He took a drink and signed. I had the doc spread the word that he’d died.”

  Whitney bolted to her feet. “Dad’s not dead?”

  Havyn fixed her elder sister with a calming look. “Sit down, Whit. Let John finish reading.” She clung to Madysen’s hand. Had Mama known? It must have broken her heart if she did. . . .

  John took a deep breath and went on.

  “For all that I wanted him gone from your lives, I couldn’t believe a man could walk away from his beautiful wife and daughters. But at that point, he was too deep in debt and too drunk to realize what he had. I knew he loved you girls. Just not enough to clean himself up. I’m sorry for the part I played in all this. I don’t want you to think I’m a monster. I did it all out of love. But it’s time for the truth to be told.”

  John folded the papers. “Chuck started this note to your mother, but when the apoplexy hit a second time, he couldn’t finish it.”

  Havyn looked at her grandfather. He looked so frail and broken.

  “There’s more.” John straightened. “Christopher Powell is alive and he’s in Nome. He found me today. His second wife has died, and you have half siblings. And . . . he’s determined to come to the funeral.”

  Looking from Whitney to Madysen, Havyn waited for an outburst. But none came. The whole sordid tale had been told. Her heart ached within her chest.

  When John put the pages in his pocket, he looked up again. “Your grandfather is deeply sorry. He loves you all more than life itself and thought he was doing the right thing by protecting you and taking care of you. The last thing he wants is for you to be angry at him. He’s asking for your forgiveness. This has been a heavy weight on him for a long time.”

  Madysen was crying. Whitney was silent. Which wasn’t a good thing.

  Havyn reached over and took her older sister’s hand and squeezed.

  She loved her grandfather, but how could he have done this? And how would they get past it? “Granddad, I don’t know what to say. Other than I can’t imagine the place that you found yourself in. Now that I’m an adult, it’s easier to understand your reasoning, but I still hate that you took our father from us. As horrible as he may have been. We loved him.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “But I forgive you.”

  Whitney squeezed Havyn’s hand back. Hard. She spoke through gritted teeth. “Granddad, I love you. And what you did was horrible, but I understand why you did it. It was easier to think of my father dead than to live with who he had become. I can forgive you too, but I don’t think I’ll forgive him. And I don’t care if we have siblings. With the loss of Mama so fresh, I can’t even contemplate my feelings on that. And I can’t promise I will even speak to that man tomorrow.”

  Maddy had been weeping, and now she swiped at her cheeks with a hankie. “I can’t deal with this news right now.” She stood and ran out of the room.

  Havyn exchanged a glance with Whitney. Her older sister’s features were hard, but Havyn could see the pain behind her eyes. How long would it take them to heal from this? Would their lives ever be the same?

  Whitney let out a long breath. “I need to go be with Maddy. Tomorrow is going to be a very difficult day.” She stood, straightened her shoulders, and left the room.

  Havyn looked at Granddad. Tears streamed down his face. She went over and hugged him and then wiped away his tears. “I’m so sorry about all this. I know you are grieving as well.” Looking up at John, she wanted to jump into his arms and weep.

  The man who’d told her he loved her looked at her with sorrow in his eyes. “Are you all right? Can I do anything?”

  She shook her head and walked away. What she needed the most was a good, long cry.

  Twenty-Nine

  The next day dawned beautiful and cheery, which hardly seemed fair. A day like today—with the funeral of a woman far too young and beloved of her family to be gone—should be gray, dull, and gloomy.

  John wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the potential conflicts today. What would he do when Christopher showed up? He wanted to be there for emotional support for Havyn, but he also wanted to protect all the Powell women. What was the man up to? And why was he so determined to come to the funeral?

  As John walked to Chuck’s room, a dozen scenarios ran through his mind. The fact of the matter was, he had no place to judge anyone. So he would focus on getting Chuck dressed and cleaned up. Just do the best he could to help the man feel comfortable and presentable for his daughter’s funeral. It would be the first time anyone from town—other than the doctor—had seen Chuck since the apoplexy.

  Judas had brought a wheeled chair over last night so Chuck could attend the funeral. How the man had found one baffled John, but he’d be forever grateful. They owed Reynolds a debt larger than money.

  The decision to have the service at the farm had been Chuck’s. There was a nice little section that he wanted to be the family resting place. In a note, he’d told them all his request. Then wrote to John that he fully expected his time was coming soon.

  John encouraged him to keep getting better because his granddaughters needed him. But the physical toll on Chuck’s body had been great. And his grief only made things worse.

  It took about an hour to assist Chuck since he was only able to move his left side a little bit. The man had been diligently doing exercises, but it was slow progress. John just kept talking to him through the whole thing. How difficult it would be to have to swallow pride and allow someone to help like this.

  John shaved his boss’s face and combed his hair. “You know, Chuck, life isn’t over until God says so. You’re still here, so the good Lord must still have some work for you to do. And if that means working even harder at your convalescence and your exercises, then I’ll help you.”

  A slight groan came from Chuck’s lips.

  “Well, I agree, it’s not going to be easy . . . but not only does your family need you, I need you as well.”

  Chuck’s eyes glistened. All morning John watched his friend fight tears. Even so, Chuck had been able to hold it together. John didn’t think he’d be that strong under similar circumstances.

  He situated Chuck in the chair and tucked a blanket around his legs. “How do you feel? Is it comfortable enough? Do you need a pillow?”

  Chuck lifted his left hand a bit and motioned for the pencil.

  John set the box with paper in Chuck’s lap and placed the pencil in his hand. The past day Chuck had gotten more proficient at writing and had a bit more stability in his hand.

  I’m fine. Thank you. Today payday?

  Oh, good heavens! “It is. I forgot about it. Thanks for the reminder.”

  “I didn’t.” Whitney’s voice made him turn around. “I talked to the workers this morning. They all said it could wait because of the funeral, but I told them that a worker is due his wage. So I said we would take care of it later today.” The redness around her eyes showed her grief, but her mouth was set in a determined line.

  “Thank you for doing that.”

  Chuck was writing again.

  John looked down.

  Need talk finances.

  At least the man was coherent and communicating now. Whether the tragedy had forced him, or by sheer will, John was grateful. Maybe he could finally find out where the other ledger was. And where Chuck kept the family’s money. “Will do, sir. It will help us a great deal if you can share how you did things, but let’s just see how you do at the service first.”

  Chuck nodded.


  Moving behind the chair, John started to push Chuck out of his bedroom and into the parlor, where they would gather until the pastor arrived. When they made it to the large room—the place where memories abounded of music and laughter and family—Madysen and Havyn rushed to their grandfather’s side. They both knelt in front of him.

  Havyn buried her face in her grandfather’s lap. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. When she lifted her face, tears glistened on her cheeks. “It’s so wonderful to see you up and in this chair.”

  Chuck seemed uncomfortable—he must ache to communicate with his family—so John jumped into the conversation. “I’m sure he wishes the circumstances were different, but your grandfather is a strong man.”

  Havyn wiped at her cheeks. “Today’s going to be a hard day, but I know we can get through it together. I love you.”

  “Yes, Granddad. Me too. I love you. ” Madysen’s smile was genuine.

  John stepped back to give them a few moments alone. The day would probably be the hardest that any of them had ever faced.

  Lord, please be with us all.

  The number of people who came to her mother’s funeral touched Havyn. Deeper than she’d thought possible.

  Funeral.

  How could they be burying Mama? Just a few months ago they surprised her and celebrated her birthday. Havyn could still see the look of pure joy on Mama’s face. If only they could go back to that night . . .

  She just couldn’t be gone.

  But the small pine coffin offered proof. The lack of Mama’s sweet voice welcoming friends, offering coffee or something to eat, and seeing to everyone’s comfort made Havyn’s heart ache even more.

  Tears flowed from her eyes and her breath caught in the back of her throat. Who would she talk to when she was confused about something? Who would be there for advice when she got married and had children? Mama had taught her so much. . . . Who would be that mentor to her now?

  Life without Mama was unfathomable. And yet . . . it was reality.

  Picking lint off her black dress, Havyn didn’t even want to look around, because the temptation to search the growing crowd for her father was great. Her sisters were probably doing the same. Would he still come?

  She turned her head and saw John coming toward her with a blanket in his arms. Probably for Granddad. The air was chilly even with the sun shining. The sight of him calmed her burdened heart.

  Stalwart John. Ever faithful. He’d been good to all of them, never once putting himself first. Taking care of the farm. Taking care of Granddad. Taking care of . . . her.

  And he loved her.

  Havyn had never been in love before, but Mama once said that when she finally fell in love it would change everything.

  Mama was right. Oh, Mama . . . I miss you so much. A sob shook her and she allowed the tears to flow.

  “Friends, I thank you for coming today to help us say a momentary good-bye to Melissa Powell,” Pastor Wilson said, beginning the service. “Momentary, because we know this earth is not our final resting place if we belong to Jesus Christ.”

  There were a few murmured amens.

  John wheeled Granddad even closer and stood at Havyn’s side. He took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. She could feel his strength, and it comforted her like nothing else could.

  “A while back Melissa and I were talking after church.” The pastor looked around the crowd. “She mentioned then that if she should pass on while I was still preaching here in Nome, that she wanted me to conduct the service as a celebration. She wanted her family and all of her friends to know that death was not the end.” He looked at Havyn and then at her sisters.

  “She asked me to remind everyone that Jesus overcame death on the cross, dying on our behalf, taking our sins. Through that one action we were set free from the laws of sin and death.

  “Melissa put her trust in Jesus, and it was her heart’s desire that others do the same. She wanted folks to know the joy of trusting in the Lord. When I spoke to her daughters, they felt the same way. Dwelling on our loss here on earth serves no good purpose, but dwelling on the eternity we have in Jesus will deliver us from the depths of sorrow and bring us into joy. The joy of knowing that this life—and death—isn’t the end. Jesus tells us in the book of John that He is the way, the truth, and the life. Jesus is the only way to the Father and eternal life. Melissa knew that truth, and she wanted to make sure you knew it as well.”

  Havyn smiled. Leave it to her mother to make sure the Gospel message was preached at her funeral.

  She looked up and tried to refocus on the pastor’s words, but then she saw him. Standing there, just beyond Mr. Norris.

  Papa.

  Dressed in a dark suit, he held his hat in his hands. He looked . . . different. Thinner. Shorter. His face weathered. Aged. Something else was different too . . . but she couldn’t place it.

  The last time she’d seen him, he’d been so broken—

  Oh! That was it. He no longer looked broken.

  She stiffened and John leaned close. “Are you all right?”

  Nodding, Havyn lifted her chin. Strong. She had to be strong. Granddad needed her and so did her sisters.

  How would their father’s return affect them?

  Now they all had to face the deception and lies, and not just from their father . . . but from Granddad.

  The pastor asked everyone to join him in prayer, and while Havyn bowed her head, she didn’t pray. She couldn’t. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man across the crowd. Would he want to be a part of their lives? Or was he just here for money?

  She cringed at her own thoughts.

  “Havyn?”

  She looked up at John’s voice. The prayer was over and people walked around, speaking in soft tones.

  “Are you all right? Do you need to go back to the house?” John’s face showed his concern.

  Oh, how she loved this man. Havyn glanced across the way to where her father had been. He was no longer there. A part of her wanted to seek him out, but another part wanted to hide away. “I have the feeling that everything is going to be different now. With our father back in our lives . . . with him here and Mama gone . . .” She shook her head.

  “Try not to worry. Things will be different”—John squeezed her hand—“but God will see you through.”

  An older man she recognized from the Roadhouse stepped up beside her. “Miss Havyn, we’re sure sorry to lose your ma.”

  Havyn lost track of time as person after person came to offer their condolences to her and her sisters and to Granddad. He sat so still, a trail of tears down his cheeks.

  So many people loved and respected their mother. It was beautiful—but also gut wrenching and exhausting.

  Judas Reynolds was the last in the long line. “Miss Powell, your mother was the most incredible woman I’d ever met. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Reynolds. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

  “Think nothing of it. That’s what friends do.” He looked down at the ground. “I’m very sorry about Dr. Kingston and what he did.”

  Havyn had tried to push the thought of that man out of her mind, especially since he’d been killed. “Let’s not talk about it, please. God and I have been working on forgiving the man. And I pray that he found peace with God before he died.”

  “Yes. I do too.” He tipped his hat to her. “If there’s anything at all that you need, just let me know.”

  “We are in your debt, Mr. Reynolds. Thank you.”

  He took her hand and kissed it, then walked away.

  Pastor Wilson came up to her. “If it’s all right, I’m going to ask the rest of the people to leave so that you can have some time together as a family.”

  “That’s very understanding of you, Pastor, thank you.” Havyn lifted her hankie to her eyes, but it was soaked from all the tears she’d cried already.

  He nodded and went to the small gathering of people still talking around the m
ound of dirt in the ground.

  Havyn couldn’t take her eyes off the grave. Mama was gone. It shook her to the core.

  Several minutes later, Whitney approached with Madysen in tow. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

  “I’m so weary, must it be now?”

  “Yes.” A tear trailed down Whitney’s cheek. “Let’s go inside the house.”

  “All right.” Might as well get it over with, whatever it was. Whenever Whit got a bee in her bonnet, it was best to just let her have her say.

  They entered the house, where John sat beside Granddad in the parlor. They both looked . . . weary. Weren’t they all. Oh, Lord, I just want this day to be over.

  Havyn lowered herself on the settee and Madysen sat beside her. Whitney stood in front of all of them. “John, I’m sorry to drag this out again, and I’m sorry that I’ve been untrusting of you.” She pulled a paper out of her pocket. “We’ve discussed this contract before. After I found it, I was angry and I’m sorry for that. But I didn’t know you then.” She looked at their granddad. “I still don’t understand why you did all this, Granddad, but I’m sorry I didn’t trust you either.”

  What was going on? “Whit, why are we talking about this today of all days? We just buried our mother.” Havyn’s head hurt from all the crying. Why would her sister bring them any more grief?

  “I’m sorry. But we have to talk about it, because there’s a man outside that claims to be our father. The father we thought was dead. And I’m concerned, because the memories I have of this man are not good ones.” She paced in front of the piano. “I might have turned him into a bigger monster in my mind than he actually was, but I’m still concerned that he’s going to try to steal from Granddad. And from us.”

  Whitney turned to John. “So . . . are you willing to fulfill this contract and marry Havyn? I know it’s terrible timing, but I asked the pastor to stay. He’s in the barn waiting right now.”

  Havyn felt her eyebrows rise almost up to her hairline. Shock was too tame a word for her reaction.