He couldn’t be serious. He actually wanted her to believe that? Not only was he forward, he was a liar. His hands were smoother than any person’s she’d ever seen. If he’d ever picked up a hammer or saw she would have been surprised. This man made her feel so uncomfortable.
“You should come out and see it sometime. I imagine myself building my own cottage one day. Just a vacation home, you see. I’d still like to return to the city and all the luxuries there.” He looked over at her.
She avoided his gaze and kept walking. “That’s very nice.” If only he knew how his words repulsed her . . .
“But this is a wonderful adventure. I’m glad I can be of service to those less fortunate.”
Less fortunate? What was he implying? Here he was, mooching off his family that had little to nothing. He slept in their tent. He ate their food. Gwyn bit her tongue so her temper wouldn’t get the best of her.
The clinic was in sight now. Clarence tugged on her arm and stopped her. “I enjoyed our walk, Miss Hillerman. Maybe we can do it again sometime?”
“It was very gracious of you to accompany me.” She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “I hope you have a nice day.” With that, she turned on her heel and half walked, half ran the rest of the way to the clinic door.
Sadzi was right. Slimy described Clarence Novak to a tee. And now she felt like she needed a bath.
Gwyn yanked open the door with a little too much force. She had allowed Clarence to irritate her, and that hadn’t helped her mood. She ran straight into Jeremiah’s back. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jeremiah.”
He turned, a frown on his face. “Did you have a nice walk?”
“I just came back from checking on Rose Benson,” she huffed. Why did she feel so defensive? He must’ve seen her with Clarence. Could the day get any worse? “Father and I are really worried about her and the baby.”
His expression softened. “How is she?”
“Distraught, discouraged. I don’t think she’s eating much, and the baby is weak.”
“You’re upset.”
“Yes, I’m upset.” Gwyn grabbed a clean apron. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can talk about it.” She cinched the knot a little too tight.
“I hear they started her cabin. It was the first one?”
Was he trying to make small talk? Calm her down? “Yes, I just wish there was some way to encourage her.”
“I’m sure you did everything you could.”
She nodded. But it wasn’t true. Once again, she hadn’t measured up. She’d failed. Rose had looked no more encouraged by the end of their visit than she had when Gwyn first arrived.
“For some reason I don’t think you believe that.”
She met his gaze and could see he seemed sincerely concerned about her. “I suppose I don’t.”
“But why?” His voice was gentle and soothing.
“I don’t know what it is to lose a husband that way, or any way, for that matter. I’ve never been married. Never been in love, and I certainly don’t know what it is to be a mother. I said what I could and tried to offer solace, but my own experiences are limited.”
“Have you never suffered a loss?”
“Of course I have,” she replied.
“Loss of any kind shares similar tendencies. Pain, betrayal, anger, shock. Those are all things you’ve felt before.”
Gwyn felt her anger calming. “Yes. That much is true.” She felt her heart skip a beat as Jeremiah offered her a smile.
“It’s all about reaching a person where they hurt.”
For a moment Gwyn lost herself in his gaze and found herself wondering what it would be like just to put her head on his shoulder. He seemed such a pillar of strength. But as quickly as the thought came to mind, Gwyn pushed it away. What in the world was wrong with her? She turned away, anxious to busy herself with something else.
“Did you hear about the new visitor?”
His words helped her shift gears. “What? No. I haven’t heard much news lately. Is everything okay?” She busied herself with the pretense of counting bandages, knowing that if she looked into his greenish eyes she’d never hear another word.
“Yes, the president sent up a man named Eugene Carr. Seems like a nice enough fellow. He’s here to calm down all the complainers.”
“Oh. I’m sure that will be a fun job.” She felt a pang of guilt. “Sorry for the sarcasm. I’m not good company right now. I suppose I’m not feeling very gracious either. Those people knew coming here wouldn’t be easy. They knew there would be a great deal of work to do. It’s not like they didn’t have—”
“Gwyn!” Nasnana burst through the door, her cane clattering to the floor. “Can you come with me?”
“What’s happened?” Gwyn went quickly to pick up the old woman’s cane.
Nasnana took the piece and steadied herself. “It’s the river. It’s flooding Matanuska. The people need help getting away from the water.”
“Matanuska?” Jeremiah moved closer. “I thought we were in Matanuska.”
Gwyn tore off the apron she’d just tied and grabbed the rubber waders. “We’re in the Matanuska valley, yes, but there’s a small village of native people right on the river. It’s called Matanuska as well, named after the river.” She grabbed her father’s rain slicker. “Father, are you here? I’m going with Nasnana. I’m wearing your gear.”
“I heard.” He appeared beside Jeremiah, wiping iodine off his hands. “Nasnana, are there any injuries? Should Jeremiah or I accompany you?”
The clinic was packed. They’d had their hands full with TB patients and children who’d contracted measles. “If it’s nothing serious, I can do it, Father. Why don’t you send me with one of your medical bags? That way you and Dr. Vaughan can stay here.”
Her father shook his head. “While I’m confident with your nursing abilities, Gwyn, I’d feel more comfortable if Jeremiah went along. I don’t like the thought of you and Nasnana going alone.”
“We’ll be all right.”
“I know you will, but Dr. Vaughan needs to be there, just in case. I’ll be busy here, but you send word if you need me, all right?” As Jeremiah packed a bag, her father reached out to hug her. “I’m sorry things have been so busy lately.” Her father pulled back and kissed her forehead. “Be careful. Don’t take any chances. Floodwater can be very dangerous and unpredictable.”
10
His rubber boots slipped on the terrain. Jeremiah followed Nasnana and Gwyn through the thick spruce but almost fell face first multiple times. The women made their way at a brisk pace. Why didn’t they seem to be having difficulty? Was he that much of a lummox?
Gwyn glanced back at him but continued running through the thick undergrowth of the forest. Her face conveyed her fear.
Here he was, selfish thoughts invading his mind, when there were people out there whose lives and homes were in danger. What kind of a man had he become?
Not the man he wanted to be—that was for certain. Jeremiah shook his head and watched his steps. He could learn a thing or two from these brave Alaskan women and their giving hearts—willing to drop everything to help a neighbor. Not caring about what people thought or how much money they had. Another prick to his heart. Would he never be free of the past and its fierce grip? Everything he’d done . . . everything he’d been . . . everything he’d hoped for . . .
Well, he could be thankful he was here now. He would look forward to a better future. A future where he helped people, worked alongside them, and made a real difference.
A loud roar captured his attention. Jeremiah stopped and focused on the scene ahead. The scent of dirt and moisture surrounded him. Mist filled the air and dampened his face.
“Quick! Jeremiah, over here!” Gwyn waved him to a man on the ground. “He fell carrying their belongings. I think his leg might be broken.”
Jeremiah knelt before the groaning man and examined the leg. “You’re correct. It’s broken, but it appears to be a clean break. Let’s get it splinted a
nd move him to high ground.”
Gwyn squatted down and placed a stick between the man’s teeth. She nodded to Jeremiah.
With a pull and a snap, he realigned the bones. “What happened to cause this?” He jerked his head toward the river. “Does it occur every year?”
She shook her head. “No, just a combination of an abundance of snow this year, especially in the mountains, and our warm weather lately.” She sniffed. “I’ve never seen it this bad.”
She didn’t even look at him. Disappointment washed over him, but Jeremiah couldn’t think about that just now.
“Just relax and we’ll get you to safety,” she told the old man.
“My things,” the man moaned. “They all we have. You bring them?”
“Of course,” Gwyn assured him.
“Dr. Vaughan!” Nasnana drew his attention. “Over here!”
Jeremiah retrieved his bag and glanced down one more time. “Will you be all right? Can you splint it without me?”
“Yes, I’ll finish and get someone to help carry him up the hill.”
Two bags lay by the man. All his belongings? Yet another prick to his heart. As the feelings churned and took up residence, Jeremiah realized one thing: To be a different man, his perspective had to change. Permanently.
He moved toward Nasnana.
And he’d have to tell the truth. Otherwise, he was just as bad as Randolph Brewster, Sophia, and her mother . . . and everyone else he’d despised for caring about what others thought.
The roar grew, and he looked over to the swollen river. The water rushed by, large chunks of ice floating on its surface. Several homes were already overtaken by the surge.
Nasnana reached for him as he approached a woman on the ground. “It doesn’t look good. She’s lost a lot of blood.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. . . .”
Blood oozed from the elderly woman’s wrinkled and weathered forehead. A red puddle on the ground beside her prostrate form confirmed Nasnana’s words. “Head wounds bleed a lot.” He grabbed some gauze from his bag. “Hold this to the wound and apply pressure.”
Nasnana did as instructed. “She’s been a dear friend of mine all my life.”
Jeremiah nodded. Even in the midst of grief and disaster, Nasnana remained calm.
In fact, everyone around him seemed quiet. They scurried about, hauling people and items up the hill, but there wasn’t screaming or chaos. Just folks helping one another.
As he checked the woman for other injuries, Jeremiah couldn’t get over the fact that all of this was having a profound effect on him. But would it make a difference? Or was he destined to fail?
“God’s working on you, isn’t He?” Nasnana patted his hand.
“What?” The comment took him off guard.
Her smile was the only reply.
He focused on stitching the wound.
A male voice shouting interrupted his work. “The river’s crested the upper banks!”
A new sensation took over. Palpable fear settled in on the people. Jeremiah let his years of practice take over, and his fingers flew, but he had to know. “What does that mean?” He looked to Nasnana.
“It means that it’s breached where the river bends and winds down here. We don’t have much time. All of this will be underwater in a matter of minutes if that’s true.” She closed her eyes and her lips moved, though no words were voiced.
He threw his things into his bag and lifted the woman into his arms. Nasnana gathered other items off the ground.
“Lead the way, Nasnana.”
When they reached a safe distance, Jeremiah laid the woman down and headed back down the hill. Dozens of people scurried from house to house, but the water had already risen to his knees by the time he made it back down. They didn’t have minutes. They had dozens of seconds at most.
The roar intensified, filling his ears and his mind. Jeremiah’s hair stuck to his head, the mist and spray from the water nearly drenching him. Where was Gwyn? He hadn’t seen her since he’d left her splinting the man’s leg.
Water rushed past, the current threatening to take him off his feet. Now it reached his waist. Where was she? He scanned all around him.
Several women carried what they could on top of their heads. A young father lifted a toddler up onto his shoulders.
“Gwyn!” Jeremiah looked back up the hill to Nasnana.
She shook her head.
“Help!” A child’s scream split the air.
Across the river’s new path, a small girl stood on top of a boulder. It must’ve been safe enough before the breach, but the raging water now threatened to overtake the rock. And there was no way to get to her. Except through the crashing river.
Jeremiah stripped off his coat and moved toward the girl. He could swim well, but he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to battle this current for long. And the water was bitter cold. Hypothermia could set in before he reached her.
But he had to try.
Another scream and Jeremiah watched as water crested the rock and covered the girl’s feet. The yardage between him and the rock had to be greater than fifty. Could he make it in time?
Lungs burning, he kept his head above the water and pumped his arms in a breaststroke motion.
Something bobbed in the water ahead of him.
He couldn’t make it out.
But the child’s screams increased in volume. There was no mistaking the fear. The water now reached her thighs.
As he pushed forward, Jeremiah began to feel numb. The frigid water attacked him. He fought back. Had to stay focused. Pushed. More. More.
He caught sight of the bobber again. The wet head in front of him had a few curls at the crown. Gwyn!
She was alive. And she reached the little girl.
Small arms wrapped around Gwyn’s neck. The child climbed onto Gwyn’s back.
But a surge of water crashed over them both, dunking them.
Jeremiah swam as fast as he could. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . the seconds passed. Too slow. And no Gwyn. No little girl.
He pushed harder. Faster. Always looking to the last place he’d seen them. But the current would have carried them a good ways by now.
Allowing the current to propel him downstream, Jeremiah dove under the water’s surface and opened his eyes. Nothing.
He needed air. As he broke the surface again, he spotted a tiny head. Where was Gwyn?
Another surge of water lifted him on a swell.
Crack!
Jeremiah turned his head to see a huge branch—more like the trunk of a tree—careening toward him. If he could just grab hold of it, maybe it would help him rescue the girl.
But there wasn’t enough time. He couldn’t reach it.
Water swirled around him.
“Oomph!” All the breath left him in a rush as the heavy wood slammed into his back. Debris pummeled his legs and torso.
Another swell and rush of water. If he could close his eyes for a moment . . .
No!
He had to fight it. Icy needles prickled his skin. Numbness took over.
Gwyn! His eyes flew open. Was she gone?
Kicking his legs, Jeremiah held on to the log. The water had moved him far from where he’d started. His body couldn’t take much more. The doctor in him knew that time was short. Either he found them soon or he’d die trying.
Ahead, a long curve appeared in the rushing water. Maybe there was a chance to make it to the bank. But he had to find them.
A cry in front of him rang in his ears. The water pushed him up.
There! He caught sight of two heads. Faces pressed together, the two had their arms wound around each other.
But how could he reach them? They were approaching the curve and fast.
Lord, help.
Every part of her body had gone numb. Gwyn wrapped her arms tighter around the girl, hoping that her body heat could somehow help the child survive a little bit longer
. At this point, Gwyn didn’t have much hope they’d make it out alive. The lack of feeling would make it easier. The water moved too fast, and they were too cold. It was all she could do to stay afloat.
Lord, forgive me. There’s so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to do before I went home to be with you, but I know because of your Son that I can stand before you clean. Please help this child’s family. Please help my father . . .
Water swirled in over her head and she closed her eyes.
“Mama! Mama! Look what I’ve found!” Ten-year-old Gwyn bounded into the house, her hands cupped to contain the small furry treasure. “It’s a baby rabbit.”
Mother turned with a glare of anger. “I’ve told you a hundred times never to bring those wretched creatures into my house. This isn’t a barn or a stable.” Her mother’s exasperation spilled over to Sophia, who although a year younger than Gwyn was quickly becoming an exact replica of their mother in looks and attitude.
“It’s wretched!” Sophia mimicked.
Gwyn stopped and looked at the baby in her hands. “It is not. It’s a baby. It lost its mother and is all alone.”
“That is hardly our problem,” Mother said, turning back to Sophia. It was only then that Gwyn realized her mother was marking the hem for yet another new dress for Sophia. “I don’t know why I didn’t just have that Indian woman do this.”
“Her name is Nasnana,” Gwyn said, “and she’s not an Indian. She’s Athabascan—Dena’ina to be exact.”
“Do not speak that horrible pagan language, Gwyn. I’ve warned you about this before. I won’t have you speaking that heathen tongue.”
“Nasnana isn’t a heathen, Mama. She loves Jesus and prays just like we do.”
“Bah! Those people aren’t capable of praying properly. Now, get that thing out of my house and leave me alone. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Gwyn turned away in dejection. She had thought her mother would surely understand the need to care for the baby rabbit. After all, he had no one else.
“He’s just like me,” Gwyn said with a sigh. “He’s all alone.”
All Things Hidden Page 11