All Things Hidden

by Tracie Peterson

  The thought of her wanting a dozen children came to mind, and Clarence shook his head. There would be no children if he had his way. Children were just an unneeded complication. No, he would woo Gwyn and keep her so dazzled and amazed by trinkets and baubles that the idea of having a brood of brats would no longer appeal.

  The idea took root and gave him a boost of confidence. He could even open a bank. Invest in the community, or at least appear to. He could make a small fortune by charging interest and assessing fees, all while appearing to be helping the town. He could start with small low-interest loans and put clauses in the small print that would allow the rates to increase when the loans weren’t paid back in a certain amount of time. There were all sorts of possibilities. He could make it all appear very innocent, very positive for the colony, and by the time everyone realized how powerful he’d become . . . well . . . it would be too late.

  No one would dare accuse him of underhanded dealings. He would be too important to their survival. He chuckled at the thought. “And Miss Hillerman, beloved as she is, will be right in the middle of it all.” He’d finally have absolute power over her and the community. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. The tremors started up again. If he could just get enough powder to keep him calm and his head clear, he’d be able to tackle the rest of his plan.

  He just needed to get rid of a few more hindrances and things would be perfect.

  On his way to the hospital, Jeremiah saw Arville Schaleben taking a picture outside the mess hall. September was upon them, and the bounty from the gardens overflowed wheelbarrows and buckets.

  Jeremiah moved in closer and spied the largest cabbage he’d ever seen. He chuckled. Only in Alaska.

  Arville noticed him. “Hey, Dr. Vaughan, could you come do me a favor real quick?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Would you put your hand in the picture for me, you know, for perspective?”

  Jeremiah froze. A photograph? He looked at the man. “I’m hardly prepared to be in a picture. As you can see I’ve been working all day and—”

  “I don’t need to take a full picture of you, Dr. Vaughan. Just put your hand in so that we can show it against the cabbage.”

  “All . . . right.” Jeremiah hesitated a moment and then smiled. The young lad holding the cabbage looked as if his arms were about to fall off. “Better make it quick. We wouldn’t want him to drop it.”

  The skinny boy looked a bit relieved and moved his knee up under the giant vegetable.

  “A little to the left.”

  Jeremiah moved his hand and made sure his face was aimed the opposite direction.

  “Perfect.” The reporter got the shot.

  The boy let all the air out of his mouth and set the cabbage down on a crate.

  “How much does it weigh?” Jeremiah asked, patting the boy’s shoulder.

  “Over twenty pounds, sir. And he’s had me holding it for almost thirty minutes.” The boy flexed his little arms.

  “That’s pretty amazing.”

  “Yes, sir. But I better get this into the kitchen.” He picked up the cabbage and walked into the mess hall.

  Arville walked toward him. “The cook’s gonna see how many people it will feed. He’ll announce it at lunch, and we’ll put it in the paper.”

  Though giant cabbage was interesting, Jeremiah found himself chuckling at the antics of the press. He guessed that anything new and different would be fun for people to read back in the States.

  He’d all but forgotten the cabbage and photograph until the mess hall bell rang sometime later. He’d managed to clean up a bit and change clothes as well as check his mail. There was still no word from his cousin Howard. Making his way to the mess, he wasn’t surprised when Dr. H. joined him.

  “I see you managed to wash up,” Dr. H. said with a smile.

  “I did,” Jeremiah admitted, “but you don’t look to have had that same luxury.”

  The older man shook his head. “Afraid not. Had another injury to deal with. Speed is causing some of the workers to take unneeded chances. One of the men nearly cut his finger off. He came in just after you left.”

  “Could you save the finger?”

  Harold shook his head. “No. I finished clipping it off and then sewed the end closed. Hopefully it won’t get infected.”

  There was quite a crowd gathering at the dining hall. Jeremiah leaned closer to his mentor. “They had a twenty-pound cabbage to prepare. Should be interesting to see just how far they could stretch it.”

  A man turned to Jeremiah. “Twenty-four men, two servings each, with a little to spare.”

  Harold laughed. “Not too bad . . . if you like cabbage.”

  “If you don’t, they’re growing lots of other things big up here,” someone else threw in. “I ain’t ever seen the likes down in Minnesota.”

  “It’s the long days,” Harold explained. “They’re good for something other than keeping you awake.” The people around them laughed.

  Jeremiah adjusted his tie and wiped his sweaty palms on a towel. Earl had insisted that Jeremiah and Harold take the evening to go to the social affair at the newly completed community center. The only reason they’d both agreed was because Dr. Albrecht’s fiancée was scheduled to arrive in a few days, and he would need time off for his honeymoon. But Jeremiah couldn’t help the strange butterflies in his stomach. He’d known Gwyn all these months but only recently had allowed himself to admit that his feelings toward her weren’t going to fade. All this time, he’d been squashing down any attraction that bubbled up, and he’d even tried to convince himself that women were trouble.

  But the more he observed her, the more he realized Gwyn Hillerman was a woman he wanted to know. She fascinated him. Her beauty, her intelligence, her giving spirit, her compassionate nature—all these things added up to a woman unlike any he’d ever known.

  Why was he so nervous tonight? He saw her almost every day. Didn’t always have the chance to speak with her, but he did see her every day. No matter how much he tried to calm his nervous energy, the jitters remained. Maybe it wasn’t Gwyn he was nervous about. Maybe it was the large crowd and the possibility of photographers. Yeah, that was it.

  But even with all his attempts to convince himself otherwise, he knew the truth.

  He couldn’t wait to see Gwyn.

  Pacing the floor, he pulled his pocket watch out for the fifth time. He didn’t want to seem too eager and get there early, only to stand around making small talk. Neither did he want to arrive too late and miss the social time at the beginning. If he didn’t time it right, he’d walk in during the recital and everyone would notice.

  He shook his head. Thirty-four years old and yet behaving like a schoolboy. Is this what real love did to grown men?

  He took a deep breath. Might as well just head on over.

  The walk in the cool air settled Jeremiah’s mind a little. Alaska was a beautiful land. He would never tire of the magnificent views or the moose, bear, and eagles. Of course, he’d only seen a small portion of the territory. He couldn’t wait to explore more of the country around him. He’d heard several of the colonists talking about someone who had written about their journey up the Yukon River from Nome. It was during the gold rush at the end of the last century, and the story sounded quite interesting. With a smile he wondered if Gwyn would ever want to take on such an endeavor.

  Noise from the community center—a giant warehouse—reached his ears. Laughter, music, talking. He hoped it wouldn’t be hard for him to find Gwyn.

  When he reached the open doorway, Jeremiah gasped. Hundreds of people milled about. He hadn’t expected so many would be able to attend. Workers were still furiously building homes, and many of the families were beginning to harvest their gardens. But the turnout was tremendous.

  The band played a few short blasts a little louder, and Stu Campbell mounted the stage. It took several moments for everyone to find a seat, but eventually the crowd quieted.

  “Welco
me to tonight’s historic occasion. It’s our first social affair in the new community center.”

  Applause rippled through the room.

  “Thank you, thank you.” Stu nodded to the crowd and waited for it to quiet. “We’d like to thank Miss Harriet Malstrom of Seattle for coming all this way to grace us with her talent tonight.” Stu held out a hand toward her. “Miss Malstrom.”

  The pianist started the introduction. The band joined in and soon Miss Malstrom’s voice soared over the hall. Jeremiah appreciated the music, but that wasn’t why he’d come. Standing at the back of the room, he searched through the large crowd.

  His stomach leaped when he spotted her. There she was, seated in the back corner with her father. Her eyes were closed. He wasn’t sure if she was appreciating the music or just exhausted and taking the opportunity to rest for a moment, but no matter what, he loved that he had the chance to watch her. She wore a lovely blouse that came high on her neck and was trimmed with lace. Accompanying this was a dark blue skirt that fell almost to her ankles. Her long curly hair was tied at the nape of her neck with a ribbon. Simple and modest was always Gwyn’s style.

  And it was lovely.

  At the close of the song, the room erupted in thunderous applause, and Gwyn’s eyes opened. For a moment, Jeremiah thought she might look his way, but instead, she dabbed at her eyes with a hankie.

  His heart swelled. What he wouldn’t give at that moment to hold her in his arms. He wasn’t sure where the strong emotions came from, but he realized for the first time in a long time, he really felt alive. Gwyn, her father, and these amazing people had awakened him. For once, he was doing the right thing. Giving of himself to help others. That’s what life was all about.

  As he watched Gwyn, his thoughts turned to God. The anger he’d felt all these months faded. The truth of the matter was simple—he’d been headed down the wrong road. In God’s infinite mercy, He’d spared him a lifetime of misery. Jeremiah wasn’t sure he appreciated the circumstances that led to his downfall, but for the first time in months, he thanked God for intervening. Now, if only he could tell the truth.

  As Gwyn turned her face, a light from above shone down on her golden hair. Had God sent him an angel? To help him heal?

  As the vocalist started a new song, Jeremiah couldn’t keep his eyes off Gwyn. He made a decision. He had to talk to her. Tonight.

  Every time a song ended and people shifted and applauded, Jeremiah moved a little closer to her. Maybe by the time the concert ended, he’d be right there, ready to escort her and ask if she’d like to take a walk.

  Miss Malstrom announced her last song and stated the band would play so that everyone could dance and socialize for a bit. Then she would return for the finale. This was his chance.

  The song was peppy and happy. Gwyn smiled and swayed a little to the music. Jeremiah watched. A throat cleared.

  Jeremiah looked away and caught Dr. H. watching him. The half smile on the man’s face told him he’d seen the way Jeremiah looked at his daughter. He winked at Jeremiah.

  It took forever for the song to end. But as everyone stood and clapped, Jeremiah stepped closer to Gwyn.

  Mrs. Hawthorne, one of the women from camp three, stopped him. “Thank you, Dr. Vaughan, for taking care of my Billy. We’re so thankful to have you here.”

  “You’re welcome. Is he doing better?”

  “Oh yes. We’ll be in this week for you to check his arm.”

  Jeremiah nodded and the woman walked away. He turned.

  But instead of finding Gwyn in front of him, he found Clarence taking Gwyn’s elbow and steering her away.

  Enough was enough! He was going to punch the man in the nose! Tell him to stay away from Gwyn. But as he stepped forward, Harold was there rescuing his daughter. The trio spoke for several moments, and Dr. H. walked Gwyn to the front of the room.

  Away from Clarence.

  And Jeremiah.

  Doubt crept back in and his joy faded. Maybe that was his sign. It didn’t matter how he felt. He still hadn’t told anyone the truth. What right did he have to happiness?

  20

  Gwyn piled more produce onto the wagon. Four months after their arrival, the “Publicized Pioneers,” as the settlers were sometimes called, were deep into harvest. She looked up to see a photographer taking yet another photo of one of the colonists with a wheelbarrow full of giant vegetables. She shook her head. The newsmen and photographers still journeyed to their valley nearly every day to record the latest stories and happenings. Mr. Irwin assured her at the concert that it would slow down once all the transient workers left for the winter, and she couldn’t wait for that day.

  Every time they tried to take a picture of her, she asked them to focus on the colonists. The attention wasn’t anything she wanted.

  As she helped with the harvest at the experimental station, Gwyn thanked God for the bounty. Even though a lot had been lost in the hailstorm, they still had plenty. Huge vegetables, lots of grain, wheat, potatoes, and cabbage. The time she’d spent helping with the gardens this summer had been wonderful. It hadn’t given her much time with her father or Jeremiah, but there was something about digging in the dirt and making things grow that made her happy. All this food, added to the native berries, fish, and wild game, would feed people in the valley over the long winter months. And that thought made her smile.

  Faces of children and colony families rolled through her mind. And to think she’d been worried about all the change and all the new people. God had known what she needed, and He’d seen her through the adjustment. Her worry had been unfounded and borne out of the unknown. It gave her cause to think about her future and other things that were yet unknown. Instead of worrying about them, perhaps she could use this example to remind herself to simply take one day at a time and trust God to know what was best for her. Before the colony was established, she couldn’t have imagined her quiet existence disturbed by thousands of strangers. Now she couldn’t think of her life without all her new friends.

  She hefted another crate of vegetables to the truck then paused to stretch. Her back and shoulders ached from the hard labor she’d put in the last few days, but again she thanked God. The winter would soon be upon them, and she’d be cooped up indoors a good bit of the time. Several of the Red Cross nurses would be leaving with the transient workers, and the hospital would need her on a daily basis again.

  “Hello, Gwyn.” Clarence’s overly smooth voice ruined her afternoon.

  She closed her eyes. Why did that man have to show up everywhere she went? He found her every single day now and took it upon himself to escort her around the valley. She tried to avoid him, but he always found her. She picked up a shovel and stabbed it into the ground. She almost wished she could stab it into his foot.

  “Hello, Clarence.” Lord, forgive me. But the prayer didn’t help her produce a smile for the man.

  “I’ve got a picnic lunch all prepared in a basket, just waiting for your approval. When would you like to take lunch?” His smile showed off his shiny teeth.

  Gwyn looked down and counted to ten. One of these days, her temper would get the best of her and she’d say something she regretted. No one would expect the flames her tongue was capable of shooting. She needed an excuse and fast. Her coveralls were covered in soil. “I’m not exactly dressed for a picnic, Clarence. And as you can see, we’re really busy with harvest.”

  “I won’t take no for an answer, Gwyn. I’ve been a gentleman all summer, but you work entirely too hard—”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to take no for an answer. Because that is the only answer you’ll be receiving.” Lord, give me patience and help me not to accidentally run over him with my wheelbarrow.

  “Gwyn—”

  “Gwyn, there you are!” Her father’s rich voice rolled across the field.

  Thank you, Lord. She waved at her father. “Excuse me, Clarence.”

  “Of course.” She heard the irritation in his tone and ignored it. Perha
ps now he would see that she had no desire to be with him.

  She ran to her father and couldn’t help the smile. “You came just in time.”

  “I know.” His eyes crinkled. “Sadzi told me that Clarence has been quite a pest lately. I don’t know what that man is up to, but I don’t trust him. I think it’s time for you to come back to the clinic. That way Jeremiah and I can keep you occupied and away from your admirer.”

  “But that means I won’t be able to help with the rest of the harvest.” She pulled off the heavy leather gloves.

  “I know you enjoy helping, Gwyn. I’m sure everyone appreciates it, but it is nearly complete, and the colonists can manage without you. It’s more important that I keep you safe.”

  Gwyn linked her arm around his. “I feel completely safe when I’m with you. I’ve missed you terribly.”

  He smiled and gave her hand a pat. “I’ve missed the peace and quiet we used to have and our long talks, but even so, I’m glad to see new life come to this territory. Just imagine it, Gwyn, years from now maybe all of this area will be settled. Perhaps Alaska will even become a state.”

  “I can’t imagine they would want it. It’s so far removed from the rest of the country. I heard one of the colonists saying that some legislators think it should be sold off to Canada, since it only connects to that country.”

  “I’ve heard the same thing, but I doubt it will ever happen. Men who know this territory know she has a lot to offer. They won’t let Alaska slip away easily.”

  “I pray not. I know I won’t.” She smiled up into his face. “This is my home, and I love it more every day.”