All Things Hidden

by Tricia Goyer

  My explanation? “Things have changed and we felt more comfortable in the country.” He didn’t press for answers, and I didn’t give them.

  The truth is, never in my life was I so happy to see ten dollars. One thing Elijah didn’t know before he left is that I am expecting our second child. I chose not to tell him until he returned. I didn’t want him to have to worry about having a wife and two children to support. Though deep down I know the Lord provides, I will wait to tell him until after I hear about getting the loan. Then we can truly rejoice over this good news.

  Charlotte paused her reading. She knew it was her grandfather, Albert, that Lavina had been pregnant with. Charlotte thought of the generations: her grandfather Albert, her father William, herself, her children, her grandchildren.

  If anything had been different, maybe none of them would be here now. Charlotte thought of the movie It’s a Wonderful Life. It had been her father’s favorite film to watch at Christmas, and the more she thought about it, the more she understood why he loved it.

  Surely Lavina never understood the magnitude of that one life growing inside her. Charlotte wished she could go back in time to tell the woman, What you are doing matters. You matter.

  She took a sip of her coffee and moved to the next page.

  July 18, 1881

  Mr. and Mrs. Ashley left, and the first thing I did was head into town for supplies. Elijah doesn’t like me riding alone—especially with Henry sitting on the saddle with me, but I was eager to get to town, pay down our bill at the general store, and purchase a few things, like cloth for a new dress. I’m hardly in my third month, and the waist of my dress is already getting tight.

  Mrs. Gilbert was there, and oh, how she plied me with questions. She asked me about my mother and father in the old country. She told me she missed my songs at church. The truth is, I miss it too. I just don’t feel as comfortable now getting up in front of everyone to sing. Whenever I see someone looking at me, I always question if they’re thinking about the lost money. We go to church often, but it’s not like before. Everything has changed.

  Henry is almost two now, and I’ve never heard a little one talk so much. He is nice company, especially after the way Elijah has withdrawn. If I told my husband once I told him a hundred times that I know he didn’t take the money. Yet whenever I say it, he looks in my eyes, and I know what his gaze says. He wonders if I think he could have done things differently.

  I’m sure my gaze does not lie. Of course he could have. He could have gone straight home instead of stopping by nearly each neighbor’s house to tell them of the late train. To tell them it had been delayed a day. Sometimes I wonder if the bag got left in one of those homes. For the life of Elijah, he can’t remember if the bag made it home or if he lost the bag along the way. Or if someone took it while he stopped to rest at the church site. Elijah said he stopped to chat with the workers building the wooden foundation of the building.

  He doesn’t remember dozing off, but I can imagine he did. That man can sleep through any thunderstorm. He’s done it a number of times. The pounding of nails to him would be as soothing as a lullaby. My guess is that while he dozed someone took the bag, even though my husband thought he remembered taking it home and putting it in the safe.

  Then again, why am I bringing it up now here? I love him, and I’ll always love him, no matter what. I have to simply accept the fact that it’s up to me to help us find the best situation I can. So Elijah and I will save every penny, make our plans, and trust the good Lord knows best, even about situations we can’t understand.

  Charlotte tucked the journal under her arm and hurried to the kitchen counter where she’d left her clue notebook. She turned to the page with all her notes and added on:

  • Elijah stopped by most of the neighbors’ homes to tell them the train had been delayed by a day. (Lavina’s journal)

  Charlotte tapped the eraser of the pencil against the counter as she thought of something else. She read the entry again, noting that Lavina had written about her husband stopping to rest at the church. What did that mean? Did he lean up against a tree next to the newly built foundation? Did he take a nap in the middle of a field next to the building site? She wished she could put the pieces together.

  Charlotte made a mental note to talk to Anita about it. And maybe Maxie. They were both old-timers who’d grown up around the settlers—people whom everyone in town considered part of the historical landscape.

  There were many entries, and she mostly skimmed them, but there were some that stood out more, and now she read those.

  August 5, 1881

  I attended church today. There is a cottage organ that some fine person donated to the congregation. Eloise McHenry played nicely, and I enjoyed singing. At least once after every sermon someone stops me and asks if I miss singing on the stage. I do, but New York City seems like a thousand miles and another lifetime ago.

  Charlotte leaned back in her chair. She remembered her mother having a beautiful singing voice—something she hadn’t inherited. Yet Charlotte didn’t realize her great-grandmother had been a singer too.

  September 9, 1881

  The church was crowded, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house at the funeral of Gregory Strickle today. I expected to find Peggy in a puddle of tears when I arrived, but instead she just sat on the bench closest to the front in stone silence. I’ve never seen such a sad face. Her broken heart was evident in her sallow cheeks, and her silence was worse than any tears.

  Charlotte placed a hand over her chest. “Dear Peggy,” she muttered, making a promise to go back and read in detail about Peggy and Gregory’s romance in those letters she still had. At least she could do that much. If no one else remembered or cared, she would.

  Charlotte skimmed a few more entries and then stopped on one that made her sit straighter in her seat.

  September 17, 1881

  I attended church today. Alone. Elijah was out with the cattle feeding, and I couldn’t bear to stay inside the lonely house with just Henry any longer. At church there was an old, visiting preacher. Never saw the man a day in my life, but as soon as his sermon was over he approached me with arms spread wide, as if I were his long-lost sister. He was a tall man and twice as wide as Elijah. I don’t know what came over me, but I folded into his embrace. He prayed a simple prayer and then held me back at arm’s length. Then he said the strangest thing. “What you seek will be found.”

  I’m not sure if anyone else heard, but I knew immediately what it was. We all would have known.

  It’s the one thing we’ve never stopped seeking, yet deep down I have a feeling it won’t be found in my lifetime.

  Finally, Charlotte turned to the last entry, wiping a tear from her eye.

  September 19, 1881

  I’ve kept myself at arm’s length from others because I’ve assumed that everyone in town believes, like the court, that Elijah is guilty. Today my heart is warmed again. I hadn’t been planning to go to town, but I needed sugar to make a surprise cake for Elijah. On my way I saw what appeared to be a community barn raising. There were a dozen men building a small house out of real lumber. It was at the Strickle place, and Peggy waved me down. She was actually in the mood to talk today. She asked how our crops were doing. She told me her parents were coming for a visit, something she was excited about.

  I haven’t been off my farm much and had no idea that Peggy’s little sod house had caved in not long after her husband’s death. Gazing out in the field, I spotted Gregory’s plow still in the furrow. Seeing that made me grateful for what I have. For some it seems we’ve lost much—our role in town, our business. Our reputation. Heaven knows that rumors about us have sprouted up like the wild grass on the Nebraska prairie.

  But as I see Peggy’s mourning, I better understand how blessed we are. We have our health. We have our children. And mostly, Elijah and I have each other. Speaking of which, I have dinner to get on the table. He’s had a hard day in the field, and tomorrow there’
s a special prayer meeting at the church. I just might mention to him the thought of us going.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charlotte wrapped her hands around her mug and took a sip of cold coffee. How long have I been sitting here?

  She glanced at the clock, amazed that over an hour had passed. It seemed as if she’d sat down just five minutes ago.

  As she was rising to put the cup in the kitchen sink the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mom. It’s Pete.”

  “Hi, Pete. What’s up?”

  “Oh, nothing much, but I was wondering if you could come into town. I could use some help.”

  Charlotte looked out the window at the gray landscape. “Your old truck didn’t break down in town, did it? I told you to ditch that clunker years ago.”

  “No, Mom. It’s nothing like that. It’s just that there’s a friendly debate going on, and I need your input.”

  “Really? Your dad’s not giving you any trouble is he?”

  “No, I left him at the tractor supply while I hurried over to taste some cakes, but it hasn’t been a quick stop. I’m calling from Dana’s cell phone. We’ve spent thirty minutes already arguing over cake flavors. There are four of us, and we’re split down the middle. We need you to be the deciding vote.”

  “What if I don’t like either one?” she quipped, again feeling a tug of sadness that she’d never had the pleasure of helping to plan a wedding. And that she wasn’t even asked to bake the cake.

  “Honestly, Mom, when have you ever disliked something Mel made?”

  “You’re at Mel’s Place? Well, of course you are. She’s the best. I’ll be right down.” Charlotte glanced toward the laundry room, where the pile of clothes was spilling out the doorway. “Well, almost right down. I need to throw in a load of laundry before I head out the door, but that will take only a minute.”

  “Hurry. If I have to take another bite of either of these cakes I’ll be on a sugar high.”

  Thirty minutes later Charlotte was sitting at one of Mel’s tables eyeing the two plates of cake Mel had set before her. Everyone circled around her.

  Charlotte moved her fork to the lemon cake, glancing at Dana. Dana watched Charlotte, but her expression gave away nothing. Then Charlotte looked at Michelle, Dana’s cousin from Harding, and Dana’s mother, Bonnie. Still no hints of who was voting for which cakes.

  The cake was lighter than she expected and the hint of lemon brought a smile to her face. It was flavorful and refreshing, unlike any wedding cake she’d ever tasted. “This is nice. I can’t believe I’ve never had it before. It’s good. Really good.”

  “Okay, next is the marble cake.” Melody pushed the plate in front of her.

  Charlotte took a sip of her water and then took a bite of the marble cake. It was good too—sweeter than the lemon cake. “I like the mix of chocolate and vanilla. It’s a wonderful contrast.”

  She paused. “And while I think either choice would be wonderful, I’d have to go with the lemon.”

  In an instant arms were around her. Dana pressed her cheek against Charlotte’s. “Thank you!”

  Charlotte patted her arm. “I suppose that’s your choice?”

  “Yes, and I have to say, you have great taste!” Dana laughed. Then she turned and high-fived Michelle.

  “I think Charlotte knew.” Bonnie offered a playful pout. “Everyone knows how much Dana likes lemon anything.”

  “I didn’t, but I do now.” Charlotte winked.

  “Gee, Mom, thanks for picking the other side.” Pete readjusted his John Deere cap on his head. He shrugged and offered a shy grin to his soon-to-be mother-in-law. “Maybe I’ll get marble cake for my first anniversary.”

  “Or maybe your tenth,” Bonnie commented, “if you’re lucky. Dana can be quite persuasive when she wants to be.”

  “Well, maybe I can have a groom’s cake—in the shape of a carburetor or a cow pie,” he chuckled.

  The bell on the glass door of Mel’s place jingled, and their group instinctively turned to see who had just walked in.

  Charlotte felt her stomach tense when she saw it was Sam and that girl—what was her name? Kendall. Sam had his arm around her back, but dropped it as soon as he saw his family sitting across the room.

  “Sam!” Pete opened his arms wide. “Dude, you’re five minutes late. Man, I needed you.” He strode forward and slapped Sam’s shoulder. “You like chocolate and vanilla, don’t you?”

  Sam shrugged and glanced at Charlotte with his eyebrows cocked in a question. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  Pete turned around to Dana. “Why don’t we try again—two out of three?”

  Dana held up a cake order form. “I don’t think so, mister. The paperwork’s already done.” She pushed the order into Mel’s hands. “See, it’s official now.”

  Kendall eyed Pete and then turned to the others. “Is that cake?” She moved over to the table. “I love cake.” She stretched her hand to Charlotte. “I know Sam was rude and didn’t introduce me, but I’ve been askin’ him to. I’m Kendall. Mmmm, that smells good. Like lemons.”

  Charlotte shook her hand. “Well, you’re welcome to taste some cake if you’d like.”

  Kendall took one of the small forks that Melody used for tasting and dug in. She took a bite and then shrugged. “It’s okay. Not very sweet.” She took a bite of the marble cake next and smiled. “This one, for sure.”

  Pete didn’t say anything. Instead, he straightened his shoulders and gently elbowed Dana.

  “Well, Kendall. I’m going to have to tell all your teachers to dock your grade for not liking lemon,” Dana said.

  “Gee, Miss Simons. If you dock my grades any more they won’t let me in school.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except for my photography class. I know I’m acing that.”

  Dana and the girl chatted for a few minutes.

  While they were distracted, Charlotte approached Sam. “Do you want some cake?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “When were you going to introduce your friend?”

  Sam tossed his skater bangs. “I was gonna get around to it. It’s no big deal. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

  The bell on the door jingled again, and Charlotte was surprised at the large scowl gracing her husband’s countenance as he walked in. Bob fixed his gaze on Pete and then pointed to his watch.

  “Oh, man. I completely forgot.” Pete slapped a hand against his forehead.

  “Yeah, you did. I’ve been waiting down at the tractor supply for the last hour. Brad finally wanted to close up shop so he offered me a ride.”

  “Sorry, Dad. It was cake wars. You should have seen it.”

  Noticing that everyone was distracted, Sam motioned to Kendall and headed back to the door. “Hey, guys, I’ll see you later. I promised to get Kendall home before dinner.” He offered a slight wave and then was gone.

  “Dinner.” Charlotte clucked as she looked at her watch.

  “Nothing planned?” Melody asked.

  “No. I’ve been reading that journal all day. Remind me to tell you about it tomorrow.”

  “Sure. I can’t wait.” Melody adjusted her apron. “I do have some homemade split pea soup on the stove. Homemade bread too.”

  Charlotte turned to Bob. “Want to eat in town tonight? I have nothing planned and it’s Valentine’s Day.”

  Bob sniffed the air and smiled. “I’m always game for Mel’s cooking, but what about the kids?”

  “Emily’s at a friend’s house. Christopher too. And Sam …” She looked toward the doorway. “He didn’t say what he was up to. I suppose if he’s home before us he could make himself a sandwich or something.”

  Charlotte turned to the others. “Do you want to join us?”

  “Actually, I need to get home,” Michelle said.

  “Yes, and I told Mom I’d eat with her tonight since I’m in town.” Bonnie gave both Pete and Dana a quick hug. “Thanks for inviting me to the tasting. It was quite enter
taining.”

  “How about you kids?” Charlotte turned to Pete and Dana. “Do you have big Valentine’s Day plans?”

  “Nope.” Dana answered. “We decided we wouldn’t really celebrate this year with the wedding coming up.”

  “So would you like to join us for dinner, then?” Charlotte asked.

  Within a matter of minutes, Bob and Charlotte were sitting at a table across from Pete and Dana, and Melody was serving them some steaming bowls of split pea soup.

  After saying grace, Bob was the first one to bring up the sighting of Sam and his new friend. “Who’s the girl? I can’t say I’ve seen her around here before.”

  “She’s new,” Dana commented, blowing on a spoonful of soup. “I think they’ve been here less than a year.”

  “You know, it’s sort of weird, but she sort of reminds me of Denise.” Bob scratched his head.

  Charlotte tucked her hair behind her ear. “Bob, I need to show you some family photos when I get home. Have you forgotten what your daughter looked like?”

  “No,” he said sternly, his face turning red. “I said she reminds me of Denise—not that she looks like her.”

  Dana tilted her head. “That’s weird, because I thought that too. Maybe it’s her smile.” Then Dana turned to Charlotte. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to side against you or anything, but it’s weird that I had the same thought. What do you think, Pete?”

  “Yeah, sort of, I guess.” Pete shrugged.

  “Yes, well, I’ll have to pay attention next time. And you say they’ve been here less than a year? I could tell she wasn’t from around here.” Charlotte took a bite of her bread, making a note to herself that she hadn’t made bread in a while and probably should.

  “How can you tell that?” Dana tilted her head, her spoon stopping halfway to her mouth.

  “Well, I haven’t seen too many kids around here dressed like that. Her clothes look like ones I threw out twenty years ago.” Charlotte shrugged. “I mean, she has a pretty face and all, but it looked like she went into the closet of a seventies hippie and put on layer after layer.”