All Things Hidden

by Tricia Goyer

  “Thanks, little man.” Sam patted Christopher’s head.

  “Okay, my turn.” Emily handed Sam a box that was smaller than Christopher’s. “I hope you like it. I sort of made it myself.”

  Sam opened the box and found a T-shirt folded into a square inside.

  “You made the shirt?” Sam asked.

  “Well, no, but I designed the front.”

  Sam unfolded it and laughter burst from his lips. “‘Procrastinators Unite … Tomorrow.’ I like that!”

  “One more,” Anna piped up. “We weren’t sure what to get you, but I hope you like this.”

  Sam opened a small envelope and pulled out a gift card for a skate shop in Harding. “Wow, very cool.”

  “We figured you’d find something there,” Bill added.

  Sam put the gift card with the other items, and then he looked at the envelope.

  “Go ahead,” Charlotte urged him.

  Sam’s expression grew serious as he opened it. His eyes widened when he saw the numbers on the check.

  “Whoa, Grandpa. No, you can’t do this.”

  “It’s for your future—for college, I hope.” Bob leaned back in his chair.

  Sam nodded, and Charlotte saw his shoulders deflate slightly.

  “Want to play checkers, Grandpa?” Christopher asked, realizing the celebration was over.

  “Sure, set it up.” Bob turned his attention to Christopher.

  Sam glanced around the room. He looked down at his small pile of gifts.

  See, I told you he’s not too old for presents, wrapping paper, and party games, Charlotte wanted to say.

  She reached across the table and patted his hand. “I know a college fund isn’t as much fun as a pile of gifts to unwrap or a custom paint job for your car, but you’ll thank us someday. I promise.”

  Sam nodded. “Oh, don’t worry, Grandma. I thank you now. Thanks. This is amazing.” He stood. “And I hate to do this, but do you mind if I head out? I told Jake and Paul I’d meet them for burgers at Mel’s. They wanted to celebrate my birthday.”

  “But you just had dinner.” Charlotte’s jaw dropped. “And cake.”

  “Yeah, but you know guys need two dinners.” Pete smiled.

  Charlotte glanced at the clock. It was almost 8:00 PM and a school night. More than that, it was already dark. Still, he’s eighteen now. Charlotte had learned with Denise that being too restrictive only caused rebellion. She forced a smile. “Okay. Have fun. Just don’t stay out too late.”

  “Cool.” Sam hurried toward the door and grabbed his jacket. “Thanks, everyone.”

  Anna approached Charlotte holding baby Will, who was now sleeping, and smiled. “I can’t believe Sam’s old enough to head out alone, and meet up with friends in a restaurant, not to mention go to college soon. I remember getting photos in Denise’s Christmas cards of a chubby-cheeked little boy. He’s anything but little now.”

  “Time marches on. I know that well. I’ve been sifting through it.”

  “What do you mean, Charlotte?” Anna asked, holding Will out to her. “Do you want to hold him?”

  “Of course. You know you don’t have to ask.” Charlotte snuggled the baby on her lap inside a blue fleece blanket.

  Anna quietly cleared the cake dishes as Emily headed upstairs, followed by Madison and Jennifer. Charlotte had no doubt all three would emerge in twenty minutes with nails painted in various shades of pink.

  “Yes, I sifted through history all right. Today the Women’s Group started cleaning out the church basement. There were all sorts of things—old bulletins, photos, cookbooks. Piles of Sunday school materials that went back years.” She stroked Will’s cheek and then turned to her older son. “Bill, someone found a photo of you when you were baptized, and I think I recognized at least one rodeo drawing in the front of an old hymnal. Pete, you even practiced writing your name on some of them. For years you didn’t understand that when you ran out of scratch paper you had to stop drawing.” She glanced over at Pete, who shrugged.

  “There’s something else. Remember that story I told you about your great-great-grandfather—I call him Granddaddy—and the situation with Bedford Community Church?” Charlotte asked, attempting to make her tone as lighthearted as possible.

  “Yeah, I remember Uncle Chet talking about that before.” Bill cut himself a second helping of cake.

  Anna took a sip from her cocoa. “I don’t think I remember hearing about it.” She playfully punched Bill’s arm. “Are you trying to keep family secrets from me?”

  Bill’s jaw dropped. “I told you, remember? My great-great-grandfather stole money from the church and then got arrested for it.”

  “You don’t have to put it so bluntly. This is your mother’s family we’re talking about,” Bob stated. Then he glanced at Christopher from across the table. “King me.”

  “Ahh, Grandpa.” Christopher added another red checker on top of his grandpa’s piece. “I don’t remember the story. We have a thief in our family? Like Jesse James or something? That’s cool.”

  Anna straightened in her seat. “It’s not cool, Christopher. Stealing is a crime against society. More than that, it’s against God.”

  “And it’s not at all like Jesse James,” Charlotte butted in. “No one is sure what happened. I mean, there are a lot of theories. It’s possible Granddaddy just lost the money. Or that someone robbed him.”

  Bill wiped his face as if trying to hide a smirk. “And what’s so important about bringing this up tonight?”

  For the next ten minutes Charlotte told them about the church’s upcoming open house and history display. She also told them about the clipping Hannah found in one of the boxes.

  “Sounds like someone found an excuse for cleaning out the basement,” Bob mumbled under his breath.

  “We started talking about it today, and Anita Wilson says she has something that might be able to help me—something that could assist in proving that Elijah was innocent after all.”

  “Listen to you.” Bill waved a hand her direction. “You talk as if you know the guy. It’s an interesting story and all, but it’s not like figuring out what happened—or even making an educated guess—will make a difference.”

  “He’s right, Char,” Bob jumped in. “Personally, I just think Mrs. Wilson is a little lonely and is looking for company.”

  “Yeah, too bad that Elijah Granddaddy guy wasn’t Jesse James.” Christopher scratched his head. “Ha! King me, Grandpa!”

  The baby shifted softly in her arms, and Charlotte ran a hand over his feather-soft hair. Maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s all just a waste of time.

  “I don’t know. I have to disagree,” Dana interrupted. “I think it’s fascinating and very worthy. I mean, five or ten years from now people like Mrs. Wilson won’t be around. If we don’t take time to listen to their stories now, it’ll be too late.”

  “Good point.” Charlotte pointed her finger in the air and chuckled. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  Anna gathered up all the napkins and mugs as the conversation wound down.

  “Mommy, Mommy! Look! Look! Emily painted our nails.” The stomping of very unladylike feet pounded down the stairs. Jennifer and Madison hurried into the room, flapping their small hands. Even Anna couldn’t help but smile at their excitement, despite the fact they’d forgotten their manners.

  “Wow, look at that. How pretty,” Anna said, even though it was impossible to actually see anything with all the girls’ excited movement. She placed a finger over her lips. “Now, shhh, girls. Calm down for a second. You interrupted while Grandma was just about to say something.”

  Charlotte searched her mind, trying to remember what she had been planning to say, but it was gone. Then seeing Jennifer’s round chin with the slightest dimple, just like her father’s, reminded her.

  “Oh yes. I was just going to say I think Dana’s right. The story of Elijah Coleman matters because it’s our story. It’s part of all of us. Whether past or present, fa
mily is family, and we need to do what we can to support each other.”

  As they sat there, a knock sounded at the door.

  “I’ll get it.” Anna hurried to open it, and as she did they were greeted with Rosemary’s red cheeks and chipper greeting.

  “Happy birthday, Sam,” she chirped as she entered.

  “Rosemary.” Charlotte stood, cradling the baby close to her so they didn’t wake him. “I was wondering where you were. I’m so sorry, but Sam headed out not too long ago. He was going out to dinner with friends.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry I missed him.” She placed her wrapped present on the table. “I got out of the shop late today. And then I got home and was just headed out the door again when the phone rang. It was my friend from Harding—you know, the one who owns the antique shop.” Rosemary took her coat off and then rubbed her hands together, warming them.

  “Oh, yes, Margaret, isn’t it? I think you’ve introduced me before.”

  “Yes, that’s right. It was Margaret.” Rosemary hurried to the table, cut herself a piece of cake, and sat down. “I have to admit, what she had to say has me flustered. She was telling me about a strange man who came into her store with a young woman who he said was his daughter. He had some old silver jewelry he was trying to sell. Margaret said the jewelry was beautiful, but she thought for sure that it was stolen.”

  As she spoke, Charlotte felt a pain in her chest. She didn’t want to keep listening to what else Rosemary had to say, but Rosemary took a deep breath and then continued.

  “The man and girl said they were from Bedford, and Margaret wanted to know if I knew them. Then I remembered the girl. She’d been in my store before. She asked for store credit, but I had to decline her. I wouldn’t have thought much of it, but she was wearing a beautiful necklace—one I was sure was an antique. Also …” Rosemary turned to Charlotte. “I remembered the girl again because I saw her today. I was picking out a birthday card, and she was too. We chatted for a while, and we soon figured out she was also picking out a birthday card for Sam. I didn’t realize they knew each other. I just thought you should know, Charlotte. Don’t mention it now, but in the future it might be something you should talk to Sam about. The last thing he needs is to get wrapped up in trouble.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” Charlotte turned to Bob. “We’ll keep our eyes and ears open. So far, Sam hasn’t gotten into big trouble or hung around people who have, but it’s something to watch for.”

  SAM ENTERED MEL’S, and the scent of food made him smile even though he wasn’t hungry. He’d find something small to eat. It was the least he could do. After all, he wasn’t buying.

  He scanned the room and his eyes met Kendall’s. “Hey there.” He waved to her and hurried over to where she sat. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “Yeah, no problem. I’m glad I caught you in the school parking lot. I talked to Paul and Jake, and they’ll meet us at Jenny’s Creamery when we go for our banana splits.” She opened the menu and spread it in front of him. “So now, Sam, what would you like? I’m thinking of the rib platter.”

  Sam nodded. “You didn’t seem like the salad type.” He closed the menu. “Sounds good. I’m going to have a club sandwich and fries, and then I’d love to know what you were doing on eBay. Were you buying or selling?”

  Kendall turned and eyed him for a moment, as if trying to see if he could be trusted. Finally her questioning glance transformed into a smile. “I don’t ever, ever share the stuff that I’m going to tell you; the information is valuable, very valuable. But I like you, Sam. I think we’re connected, you and me. So if you promise not to tell another soul, then I’ll let you in on our secret. My and my dad’s secret, that is.”

  Chapter Five

  Charlotte parked in front of Anita’s small house, amazed by how little it had changed since she was a young girl and had visited there with her mother.

  Last night she’d had a hard time sleeping. First, Sam’s birthday and sifting through the layers of church history had made her ponder how quickly life seemed to pass. One day you were living it. The next your name was just something jotted inside the cover of a family Bible.

  Second, she wondered what Anita had wanted to tell her, or was it show her? Charlotte had known Anita a long time, and it seemed strange that the woman would be so insistent about having information that Charlotte would want about Elijah Coleman. If she had information, why did she wait until now? How come she hadn’t shown Charlotte months, or even years ago?

  Charlotte climbed from her warm car into the cold morning, her breath evident in the air.

  The pinkish-brown paint was chipping, and the walkway out front hadn’t been cleared of last week’s snow, which had hardened, making it difficult to walk on. I wonder how Anita managed with her bad ankle.

  Even though the rose bushes in front of the house were bare and had been pruned close to the ground, in her mind’s eye Charlotte pictured how they had looked in July, colorful and heavy with buds.

  She knocked at the door but didn’t wait for Anita to answer. Charlotte stepped inside, thankful for the warmth that enveloped her, and called out merrily, “Anyone home?”

  “In here, sweetie. Just pouring us some tea.”

  The living room had navy blue carpet. It was thirty years old but looked as new as the day it was installed. Throw pillows were perfectly arranged on the couch, and the television, its sound muted, was tuned to the cooking channel.

  Charlotte kicked off her shoes and lined them up next to Anita’s rain boots by the front door. “I smell scones.” She breathed in the scent of fresh-from-the-oven pastries. “Are they cinnamon?” she called.

  “Of course they’re cinnamon. When have you ever visited that I haven’t made them for you?”

  Charlotte padded across the carpet, suddenly feeling like a child again. As she entered the kitchen, longing for her mother swept over her—deeper than she’d experienced in years.

  “Hi there.” Charlotte pulled Anita into a hug. “Thanks for inviting me over.”

  “Yes, well, I’m glad you were able to get away. I know things are busy with the kids.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “Of course, but they’re a blessing; they really are.”

  She noticed an old shoe box on the table with a purple ribbon tied around it. Charlotte guessed that it had something to do with Granddaddy. Yet she also knew that the topic would only come up after she’d had a cup of tea and a scone and had filled Anita in on all the family news. Still, the question wouldn’t leave her…. Why had Anita waited until now?

  “English breakfast tea okay?” Anita poured a cup for Charlotte even as she asked. Then she poured one for herself.

  Anita settled into her chair with the slightest moan. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be.”

  “Are you kidding? I think you’re doing great. It’s so wonderful to see you up and around.”

  Anita waved a hand in the air. She took a sip from her teacup and then focused on Charlotte’s gaze. “So tell me about the kids and about the wedding. Are you up to your neck in plans, or is Dana’s family taking care of all of it?”

  For the next thirty minutes Charlotte shared everything she could about the wedding, about the recent fire on their farm, about her newest grandson, and the 101 things the teens were up to.

  “I can’t believe Sam will be graduating. My, time does fly.”

  “Does it ever.” Anita added more cream to her now-tepid tea. “Speaking of time, I have something to show you.”

  With shaky, age-spotted hands, Anita untied the ribbon from the box. Charlotte looked inside to see a stack of envelopes.

  “Are those letters? Who are they from?”

  “They’re letters all right, from my grandmother’s identical twin sister in Boston. They wrote each other every month, at least once.”

  Charlotte picked up a letter, amazed by how fragile the paper seemed—and by how perfect the penmanship was.

  “Miss Wilma Banks. Bedford, Nebra
ska,” Charlotte read. It was postmarked 1879.

  “No need for more of an address than that. There were just a few hundred folks in town at the time.”

  “May I read it?”

  “Of course. Read them all, if they interest you. But I sorted them. I think you’ll want to read the ones on top first. They’re the important ones. They’re the ones that talk about Elijah Coleman and the missing money.”

  Moisture blurred Charlotte’s vision as she opened the first envelope. Somehow a sense of rightness suddenly filled the room. It was as if she was supposed to be here at this moment, and in a strange way it seemed as if all these letters had been saved just for her.

  She unfolded the sheet of paper, but before she read she patted Anita’s hand. “It’s strange for me sometimes to think of my ancestors as real people. They’re names in the family Bible and old photographs, but it’s hard to picture them as being real.”

  “Oh, they were real people all right, and quite the characters too. Your mother, Opal, and I were born just a month apart and attended school together all the way through. I knew your grandmother well. And I met your great-grandmother a few times. She was a quiet soul. She kept to herself a lot, but a few times I got a glimpse of her real personality. She was a singer in the old days. I heard she used to be very outgoing. But, well, the truth is, the problems with the church’s money changed things. Even though most of the church stood behind Elijah and Lavina, believing that Elijah didn’t steal it, the stigma of the event stayed with them throughout their lives. Everybody knew everything, and even if he didn’t steal, he was careless. And the church suffered because of it. Quite a mess.”

  “Do you think the letters have the answers?”

  “Maybe not the answers, but clues at least. Like I said, those five on top are the most interesting. They focus on the weeks prior to and after the events. They are my great-aunt’s letters, remember, so she was just responding to whatever news my grandmother sent.” Anita sighed and rubbed her temple; Charlotte could tell the excitement and work of entertaining a visitor was wearing on her.