All Things Hidden

by Tricia Goyer

  Nancy swung the door open, and Charlotte followed. The pastor was on his computer, his fingertips clicking the keys. He glanced up and paused as they entered. “Hey, what’s up?” He stood and gave his wife a quick hug and then shook Charlotte’s hand. “How’s that basement looking? Last time I was down there I couldn’t believe how much had been done. We have some mighty women in our church.” He chuckled.

  “The work’s going well,” Nancy said. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Do we still have that Women’s Group meeting Monday morning to make plans for the open house?”

  His eyes widened, and Pastor Evans softly struck his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Oh yes, I forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me. I need to announce that in church tomorrow.” He jotted a quick note and stuck it on his computer screen.

  “Great, that’s all I have.” Nancy smiled and moved toward the door. “But I think Charlotte has something else she wants to talk to you about.”

  “Sure, sure, Charlotte. Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Charlotte sat, and Pastor Evans leaned forward, his gaze upon her. She glanced at his computer and then back to him. “Are you sure? If you need to finish up, I can come back another time.”

  “No, I have a few minutes. So what’s happening?”

  Charlotte folded and unfolded her hands. “The truth is, pastor, it’s about Sam. There’s this girl he’s been spending time with—someone Bob and I don’t approve of. Actually, it’s not so much the girl I’m worried about. It’s just the way he’s been sneaking around, like he’s up to something. I was wondering if you could give me some advice.”

  “Me?” Pastor Evans sat straighter.

  “Well, as you know, his dad really isn’t in the picture,” Charlotte hurriedly said. “And Bob and Bill are more intent on telling everyone what needs to be fixed than having a two-way conversation and listening. Then there’s Pete. He and Sam usually get along great—he could probably give me advice—but he’s swept up with all the wedding plans. I’d like to talk to Sam, but I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid I’ve already started off on the wrong foot with him concerning this Kendall girl. I think he sees me as too quick to make a judgment and not open enough to getting to know her or understand.”

  “Well, are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Open to getting to know the girl.” He leaned back and rested his arms on the chair.

  “I guess so. I’d like to be. It just seems like they’re being secretive.” She stroked her chin. “I suppose we could invite her over to dinner sometime.”

  The pastor nodded once. “Good. I think that’s a good start, and I appreciate your willingness to try. I wish I would have had someone like you around when I was Sam’s age. I’m not sure if you know much about my past, but my high school and college years weren’t my proudest moments. I made a lot of bad choices. Had to learn the hard way.”

  “Some of us do.” Charlotte thought of Denise. “But it’s good to see those people come back around.”

  “Yes, well, I almost didn’t.”

  Charlotte tried to hide the surprise on her face. “Actually, I don’t know much about your past …. I was just trying to think of someone who could give me advice about Sam. I’d never want you to talk about something you’re not comfortable with.”

  Pastor Evans chuckled, and then he rose and walked to the window. “Oh, I don’t mind talking about those years. For my shame and God’s glory. I think it’s the members of the congregation who have a hard time hearing about them. The senior saints—those older than you.”

  Charlotte shifted in her seat.

  “You see, unlike Sam, I was raised in a Christian home and spent every Sunday and every Wednesday night in church. The problem was that when I hit high school my school friends seemed cooler than my church friends, and I focused on hanging out with them. We vandalized property. We stole stuff from cars and even from houses that we found unlocked. We found ourselves in all types of trouble. When I was seventeen, I was arrested for shoplifting. When I was eighteen, I was kicked out of school. My parents didn’t know what to do with me. And at nineteen—well, my whole world came crashing down when my best friend died.”

  He glanced up at Charlotte, and she could see that he was getting emotional. “We were spray-painting on a bridge, and he slipped down an embankment. I heard him land. It was horrible. He cried out for me, calling to me to help him, but he was dead by the time I got to him.”

  Now it was Charlotte who was trying to control her emotions. She dabbed the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. “I don’t think Sam is that extreme.”

  Pastor Evans raised his hands out front as if defending himself. “I wasn’t suggesting he was. I just wanted to encourage you in your role. There’s a good chance that Sam will make a mistake—maybe even a big one. But remember that even if he does, the story doesn’t have to end there.”

  Charlotte nodded and stood. “Yes, of course. Thank you. I appreciate that.” She thought about Denise. Even though she’d had a rocky start to adulthood, her daughter grew up and changed, becoming a responsible mom and a lovely woman. Charlotte swallowed hard. “Thank you for your time.” She turned.

  “Charlotte?”

  Hearing her name, she turned back around.

  “I just have to say one more thing before you leave.” He paused as if trying to figure out his words. “Sometimes we try to protect our kids too much. Sometimes it’s the difficult stuff in life—the hard knocks—that brings us closest to God. There are things I’ve done, and things that have happened to me, but through those times I’ve discovered that God’s always there. I’ve learned life is not just about following a list of rules; it’s about knowing Jesus every step.”

  “Thank you, pastor.” Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and thought again about her great-grandparents. They had never planned on life turning out the way it did for them, but Charlotte could tell from what she was learning about them that they had drawn nearer to God, even during the hard stuff.

  With quiet steps Charlotte made her way to the basement. The laughter of women met her ears as she entered, and she said a silent prayer, thanking God for putting her family in this community of believers who cared for and supported each other.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Charlotte was surprised when she walked in the front door of her house and found Emily in the kitchen. “Hey, I thought you were going to give me a call when you needed a ride. I even tried to call the Cunningham house earlier, but no one answered.”

  Emily shrugged. “Yeah, we’ve just been running around town all day. Lily has her license now, and she gave me a ride. We stopped by Kepler’s to get poster board and markers. Lily had the coolest idea. We’re going to re-create one of the advertising posters the railroad used to post, but we’re going to translate it into English. Andrea already translated the words for us. I can’t wait for you to see it, Grandma. They made Nebraska sound like it was the Promised Land.”

  “I think it is the Promised Land,” Charlotte answered.

  Christopher jogged down the stairs.

  “How did you get here?” Charlotte asked. “I thought you were at Dylan’s.”

  “Yeah, I called and you weren’t here, so Grandpa came to pick me up. And guess what?” Christopher hurried over to her. “Dylan and I decided we want to help you figure out the case of the missing money. That’s what we’re calling it. He already talked to his mom, and we’re going to the library after school on Monday.

  “Also, we saw Mr. Barnes from the newspaper, and he said he was going to follow up with a reporter at the Harding paper to see what sort of records they have. Maybe they’ll carry my story too.”

  Uneasiness settled over Charlotte like a cold fog. Just when she’d become okay with the idea of having her Granddaddy’s story printed in the local paper, here it was possibly expanding beyond their town.

  “That sounds wonderful, Christopher. It will be nice to get the help,
but I have a feeling that I’m getting close to running out of information. The more I think about it, the more I doubt that I’ll ever be able to solve what happened to the money. The good news is that I know more about my great-grandparents. I know what good people they were and how they were respected by the community.”

  Christopher nodded, but she could see he was only half listening. “Do you mind if I look at your clue book?” He held up a notebook. “Dylan thought it would be a good idea if we had our own notebook with our own notes.”

  “Sure. Just don’t go running off with it.” Charlotte tapped the side of her head. “My memory isn’t as good as it used to be.”

  Christopher hurried over to the desk where Charlotte kept her notebook.

  Charlotte took lettuce and other produce from the fridge. She’d put in a pot roast before leaving for the church. Now she only had to make a salad to go with it.

  “Christopher, can you please set the table after you finish jotting down those notes? You know how Grandpa likes to have dinner ready when he comes in from the barn.”

  “Uh-huh.” Christopher took a seat at the desk and began copying her notes.

  “Grandma.” Emily placed a hand on her hip. “I was talking to you, and Christopher totally interrupted. I wasn’t done telling you about our history project.”

  Charlotte tried to remember what Emily had been talking about before Christopher had come down the stairs. “Oh, you’re right, Emily. I’m sorry.” Charlotte apologized. “I did want to talk to you about the sleepover at the Cunninghams’ house. How did it go?”

  “Well, it was good. Andrea is really nice. I like her. She’s really funny. Especially when she’s tired.”

  “And Lily? Did you get along with her?”

  Emily took a carrot from the cutting board, leaned against the counter, and nibbled on the end of it. “She was fine. I mean, we’re still not the best of friends, but we got along. This morning she showed me a shirt she’s sewing that is cool.”

  “Good. Maybe she’ll actually talk to you at school.”

  Laughter burst from Emily’s lips. “Uh, I don’t think so. As long as Nicole is around, that’s not going to happen.”

  As Charlotte cut up the lettuce she thought about her interaction with both Pastor Evans and his wife, Nancy, today. Did they know how difficult Nicole was?

  Christopher was still writing at the desk. Emily pulled some glasses from the cupboard and began setting the table. Charlotte could see from the look on her face that the reason most likely had something to do with still wanting to talk rather than the fact she was helping her brother.

  “Grandma?”

  “Yes, Emily.”

  “Have you ever met Mrs. Cunningham’s mother?”

  Charlotte thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. “I think I’ve seen her a few times, at school functions and stuff, but I can’t really say that I’ve met her. Was she nice?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so. She was nice to me, but she had something to say about everyone else in town.”

  “Really. Now I know where her daughter gets it.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

  “I guess we follow what we see,” Charlotte mused.

  “That makes sense.” Emily pulled plates from the cupboard. “It’s strange, though, you know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, once I met her grandmother and mother, I sort of understood Lily better—why she is like she is.”

  Charlotte wanted to jump in and ask more questions, but she just nodded and continued to chop the lettuce into tinier and tinier pieces.

  “It must be hard when everyone around you expects you to be perfect.” Emily let out a soft sigh. “But the cool thing is that we’re supposed to meet over here next week to finish up the project. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is. I’m eager to hear it. You’re going to practice on me, right?”

  “Sure, and—”

  “Oh, Emily,” Charlotte interrupted and then hurried to the desk. “There’s something I thought would be helpful in my great-grandmother’s journal. It’s about the railroad and land sold.”

  “Wait. You actually have your great-grandmother’s journal? And it has information on settlers and the railroad? How come you didn’t tell me?”

  Charlotte’s jaw dropped, and she tried to remember if she had mentioned the journal when she was talking at the dinner table or to Bob. Maybe she had only mentioned it once. She was just glad that Emily was interested in it now.

  “May I read it?”

  “Yes, anytime. Just make sure you put it back here when you’re done so it doesn’t get lost.”

  Charlotte heard Sam’s feet pounding on the porch ten seconds before he entered the house.

  “Hey, you.” Charlotte tried to sound nonchalant. “What have you been up to?”

  It wasn’t until he’d walked all the way into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him, that Charlotte noticed Sam’s pants.

  He shrugged. “Oh, you know. Just hanging around with my friends.”

  “In the middle of a mud bog?” Charlotte shook her head. “Don’t you head upstairs.” She pointed to the laundry room. “Strip down in there. Some of your sweatpants are folded on the dryer.”

  Emily walked by Sam, taking the extra silverware back to the drawer. As she walked by, her face contorted. “Oh, yuck!” She opened her mouth and pinched her nose. “What’s that smell?”

  Charlotte sniffed the air. At first all she smelled were the wonderful scents of pot roast. Then she scooted closer to Sam, and the stench hit. He smelled like rotten chicken, dirty diapers, and mildew all mixed together. “Sam Slater, what on earth have you been in? Did you fall into the sewage pond?”

  Sam lifted his arm and sniffed his sweater. “I don’t smell that bad.”

  “Yes, you do!” Christopher called from where he sat at the desk. “I can smell you clear over here.”

  The door opened, and Bob entered. He took one step in and then stepped back out. “Charlotte, what in the world are you cooking for dinner? Whatever it is, throw it out now!”

  Charlotte waved him inside. “Bob, get in here. You’re letting the cold air in. And it’s not dinner you smell; it’s Sam.”

  Bob walked in, holding his nose. “Sam, did you die and come back to life or something? Boy, you stink.”

  Charlotte grabbed a wooden spoon off the counter and then pointed it at Sam. “Strip down and change your clothes.”

  “Fine.” Sam staggered into the laundry room. A minute later he reemerged in his sweats.

  “Where have you been?” Charlotte asked again. She steadied her gaze on him.

  “Yeah, I haven’t seen you all day,” Bob echoed, taking off his boots, hat, and gloves.

  Sam tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Well, I was with Kendall. Don’t give me that look, Grandma. We were with her dad too. He’s really cool. In fact he told me I could invite you guys to come along sometime. I told him Christopher would especially like it.”

  “Where were you? What were you doing?”

  Sam bit his lip. “I can’t really tell you. Of course, if you come with us then you’d see for yourself.”

  “You can’t tell us?” Bob’s brows folded. “I’m sorry, Sam, but in my book anything that’s a secret is something you shouldn’t be doing.”

  “Fine. I’ll tell you. It’s not a big deal. We weren’t doing anything wrong. We were at the old dump site south of town with the metal detector. Just don’t tell anyone, okay? If word gets out that we’re finding treasure then everyone’s going to be out there searching.”

  “The old dump site? Isn’t that still in use?” Bob asked.

  “Yes, but we hiked down to where it was in the beginning. Hank finds all sorts of coins and stuff down there.”

  “Hank? Isn’t that a little informal?” Charlotte carried the salad to the table.

  Sam shrugged. “He asked me to call him that.”

 
; “Is that what that girl’s dad does for a living? He goes around with an old metal detector and tries to find treasure?”

  “Not really treasure. Just old stuff. He’s a nice guy.”

  Bob walked in his stocking feet over to the dining room table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “That may be true, but even nice guys have to put food on the table. I bet that’s why they live in that bus—he doesn’t want to get a real job.”

  Sam’s eyes looked from Charlotte to Bob and then back again. “Are you guys being serious? I can’t believe this. I can’t believe what’s coming from your mouths.”

  “Sam,” Bob said sternly, and they all knew it was a warning.

  Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry, Grandpa,” he mumbled. “But really, maybe you should get to know them.”

  “I know that Kendall doesn’t attend school very much. Both Melody and Dana said so,” Charlotte spouted. Her chest constricted, thinking of the type of people Sam was getting involved with. Why can’t he see the problem? It’s the people we spend time with who influence us the most.

  Sam sighed. “Why don’t you ask her about it? Have you thought of that?” He turned and walked off. “There might be a good reason.”

  “I sure hope so,” Charlotte mumbled under her breath. Even though she understood what Pastor Evans had said, she hoped Sam didn’t have to learn the hard way.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The church fellowship room seemed extra warm this afternoon—mostly from the wall heaters turned on high, but perhaps also from the excitement that came from the women who were coming toward the end of their group project.

  Charlotte settled into the women’s ministry meeting, pulled off her coat, and glanced at her watch. She just hoped the meeting didn’t last too long. Emily, Andrea, and Lily had gone to Mel’s Diner to meet up with Ashley, and then Charlotte was supposed to take them back to the house for dinner and help them work on the project.

  Mary Louise Henner sat down next to Charlotte, setting sheet music on her lap. “I hope this doesn’t last too long. It’s my day for practicing my organ pieces.” Her brows knitted together. “If I don’t practice this one hymn I might just have to cancel for Sunday.”