“I think perhaps there is someone else you love more every day as well.”
Gwyn felt her cheeks grow hot. Could he really know her heart that well? “I can say with honesty that I’ve come to love a great many people—especially the children. Children make the world a better place.”
“And children of your own will bless you more than you can imagine,” her father replied. “A husband and children are exactly what you need.”
“Is that what the doctor is ordering?” she asked with a giggle.
Her father laughed. “Perhaps I am. With the right man . . . say . . . someone like Jeremiah . . .” He let the words trail off and waited for Gwyn to respond.
She looked to the ground. “Someone like Jeremiah would meet with your approval? Is that it?”
“I think he’s a fine man, and I believe he would make a wonderful son-in-law. And it doesn’t hurt that he looks at you with the same heart of love.”
“What?” Gwyn asked, stopping in midstep. “How can you say that? He’s said nothing to me.”
Her father chuckled. “Of course he hasn’t. Sometimes a fellow can’t see the forest for the trees. But give him time. He’ll figure it out.”
Hours later, Gwyn was still thinking on her father’s words. The time with him had been all too short. But work took priority and the needs of the three-year-old lying on the cot in front of her were far more pressing. Nurses filled the hospital tonight, as several more cases had been brought in. Measles spread all too fast in the camps, and quarantines were almost impossible. Not that they didn’t try, but the children seemed to travel between the camps at will, and with them went the various strains of disease. This, coupled with the visitors and transient workers, made it impossible to keep the sick isolated. One man had shown up to work on one of the trains and broke out in measles spots later that evening, exposing all he’d been around on the trip and in the campsites.
Gwyn wiped the brow of the listless cherub in her care. The fever wouldn’t break, and her father was concerned. When the child first arrived, she had been alert and babbling, but with the steady rise of her temperature, the girl grew quiet. The child’s mother was busy helping to care for her two other sick children in the next room, so Gwyn’s father had asked her to stay and help. At this rate, it would be a long night.
Gwyn’s thoughts drifted back to the conversation with her father. He’d guessed correctly about her feelings for Jeremiah. It was encouraging that she held her father’s approval, but was Jeremiah even interested?
Her father said yes, but Gwyn wasn’t so sure. How did a girl know that a man was really interested anyway? And not interested the way Clarence was interested. Gwyn could happily go her whole life without having another man like that follow her around.
The curtain slid over and Dr. Jeremiah Vaughan stood in his white coat, his brown hair covering one eye. With one hand, he pushed it back. “Hi.” He looked tired but nevertheless offered her a smile.
“Hi.” How could this one man take her breath away? Was that even good?
He slid a chair close to the cot and pulled the curtain closed again. “How is she doing?” His voice barely audible.
“Fever’s still up. Not much change. She’s so little—so precious. I wish the children didn’t have to suffer so.” The whispered words choked her up. How she hated to watch children suffer. She pulled out her hankie and wiped her eyes. “Sorry. I’m not going to fall apart again.”
“Don’t apologize.” Jeremiah reached a hand out and covered hers. “Your heart is what makes you a great nurse, Gwyn. Your father was right that we medical folk have to guard our hearts, but that doesn’t mean we turn them to stone. I don’t believe we can be any use to anyone when we do that. I think you’re an amazing woman, and your heart is one of the best things about you.”
The compliment made more tears spring to her eyes. Who was this man? At moments like this, he was the most wonderful man she’d ever met. Then at others, he seemed to carry a heavy weight and keep her at a distance. Her heart longed to know the real Jeremiah Vaughan. But to do that, she’d have to open up to him. Was she prepared to do that? Even if he rejected her just like her mother had?
“Did you always want to go into nursing?”
The question jolted her back. She focused on the man in front of her. “Um, yes. I guess so. Just watching Father with his patients made me want to be like him. I loved his caring spirit. Loved watching people get well and the smiles he put on their faces.”
He scooted the chair closer and leaned over. “That’s what did it for me as well. When I was a kid, I would bring anything injured I could find for your dad to ‘fix.’ He would talk me through whatever he was doing and tell me how it applied to treating people. He’s the only adult in my life who took the time to care.”
The pain in his voice squeezed her heart. And opened a door she desperately wanted to walk through. “What about your parents?”
“Oh, they were around. It’s not that they didn’t care about me. They were too busy with everything else. Society and all. They had a business to run and appearances to keep up the family name.” He cleared his throat. “They loved the idea of my becoming a doctor.”
His small smile did little to soothe Gwyn’s heart. So much pain in those few words. How could she help him? What should she say? “My mother left my father because of society.”
His brow furrowed as he looked at her.
Unsure whether or not to go on, she took a deep breath. Would he open up to her if she bared her soul? “Well, she used the excuse of my grandfather having had a heart attack, but she’s stayed away all these years because she didn’t want to be here. She called it a ‘Godforsaken land’ and asked how anyone could live in such primitive conditions. She was raised with money and a mansion full of servants. It didn’t matter how beautiful this land was, or that she had the undying love of my father. All she wanted was to return to the life of comfort that she’d known.”
The memory hurt, but Gwyn’s heart felt lighter after sharing with him. “You know, she groomed my little sister to be just like her. The only things they care about are precisely that: things. They don’t care about people. They care only about what people think of them. It’s all about money and prestige and parties and social events and who you know.” She huffed and looked down. She’d twisted the handkerchief in her hands into a knot. A nervous habit her mother would’ve scolded her for. “I’m sorry. That was horrible of me to say.”
“No it wasn’t.” He covered her hands again with his own. “I’ve known . . . how people like that can be.”
The gesture meant more to Gwyn than anything else she’d ever experienced. Did he understand? As much as she enjoyed the warmth and exhilaration from his touch, she hated what she had to say. “But it was wrong of me to malign them, and I’m sorry. Not many know about my mother and Sophia. And I should watch my tongue. It’s not honoring to God to speak ill of them. Definitely not honoring my mother as the Bible says I should. I came to the awful realization the other day that I’ve been selfish in how I’ve prayed for them. I should be praying for their hearts, that they would know God, not for what I want.” She tried to pull her hands away.
Jeremiah moved closer and took both of her hands in his. “And what is it that you wanted?”
“To be loved. Accepted.” Tears stung her eyes. She blinked. “To rid myself of these feelings that I’d been abandoned because I wasn’t good enough. Because I wasn’t like them.”
“Gwyn, you are so much more than that.” He reached up and touched a curl at her temple. “What do you want now?”
She thought of her father’s comment that Jeremiah looked at her with a heart of love. She studied his face for a moment. Was it love she saw there?
“Mommy . . .” The raspy voice from the bed startled Gwyn. Jumping up, she knocked her chair backward. The little girl in her care started to flail about, and Gwyn tried to hold her still.
Jeremiah moved to the child’s other si
de and touched her forehead. “She’s burning up—convulsing. Get that tub over there.” He gripped the child’s shoulders and pulled a tongue depressor from his pocket at the same time. With one fluid motion, he put the stick between her teeth.
Pouring two buckets of lukewarm water they kept by the stove into the tub, Gwyn prayed. Father, please bring this child’s fever down. She’s so precious and has just begun to live. The colony doesn’t need to bury another child. Please, God. More tears streamed down her face.
Jeremiah placed the toddler in the water, keeping the tongue depressor in place so that she wouldn’t bite her tongue. Gwyn bathed the child’s face and head as the seizing lessened. It seemed an eternity passed, and still the little girl’s body shook.
Gwyn reminded herself to keep breathing. The child was in God’s hands. “Come on, little one, be strong.”
Jeremiah stood up. “Keep bathing her with the water and try to keep the depressor in place. I’m going to get more aspirin. When was her last dose?”
“About three hours ago.”
He returned in less than a minute. “We’ve got to get her calm enough to swallow. It won’t do any good if we can’t get her fever down.”
Gwyn continued to drench the child with water and pray. If they could just get the medicine into the precious baby, maybe they could keep her temperature down for good.
All of a sudden, the little girl went limp. Her jaw relaxed and dropped open. The convulsions stopped.
Gwyn held her breath while Jeremiah listened to the child’s heart with his stethoscope. Then he checked her temperature. The waiting seemed unbearable.
He took the thermometer out. “The water is helping. Her temperature is coming down.”
She closed her eyes. “Thank you, God.”
The clink of a glass against metal drew her eyes open. Jeremiah was crushing an aspirin and mixing it with sugar water. He looked at Gwyn. “I don’t want her to spit it out.”
She nodded. They needed to get a full dose into the little girl. “Let me help. I’ll sit her up and coax her to swallow.”
Minutes later, they had accomplished their goal and had their patient dressed in a dry gown and tucked back into her hospital bed.
Gwyn laid a hand on the little girl’s forehead. For the first time in hours, her skin felt cooler to the touch. A deep breath left the tiny child’s pink lips, followed by a shudder. Relief and gratitude poured through Gwyn. It seemed like even the child’s body was relaxing after battling the sickness.
“It’s always amazed me that children are both so resilient and fragile.” Jeremiah washed his hands in the basin next to the bed.
“A beautiful mix, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “I’ve got to check on the other patients. Keep cooling her down with a cloth and see if you can get her to drink some water.” At the curtain, he turned back. “I wish we had more time to talk.” And then he was gone.
“Me too.” Her whispered words couldn’t reach him, but her heart hoped that he knew.
Thick sawdust covered his feet, his hair, and everything in between. Even after working twenty-four hours at the hospital, Jeremiah couldn’t rest. Dr. Albrecht had relieved him a few hours ago, and he still couldn’t shut his mind down. The conversation with Gwyn ran through his mind over and over. But guilt always replaced the happiness those few minutes had given him.
He grabbed log after log off the mill and laid them out in a pattern on the ground. Then he’d mark each one. The menial task didn’t take a lot of thought, but it made his muscles burn. Maybe that would help ease the ache in his heart.
“This wall is complete!” the foreman yelled.
Several men came and grabbed the logs and loaded them into the truck. They’d be back as soon as they delivered the load. Jeremiah needed to have the next wall’s pieces cut and numbered before they returned.
Everyone in the valley felt a sense of urgency to get all the colonists out of their tents by winter. A number of families had left, either because of sickness or difficulty in adjusting, but Stu Campbell was recruiting more families, and they’d be arriving soon. Jeremiah found it fulfilling to know he was helping these men construct the two hundred homes needed for the colony. But not as fulfilling as healing the sick.
And definitely not as fulfilling as seeing Gwyn.
His pulse drummed in his ears. Thoughts of her invaded all too often. He had to tell her the truth. But he couldn’t. Jeremiah’s mind volleyed back and forth. For the longest time he’d tried to convince himself that Gwyn couldn’t be different. She had to be just like her mother and her sister.
But that argument didn’t hold water for long. Every time he judged her and kept her as far as he could from his mind, reality settled in.
The facts all pointed to one thing—something he’d tried to deny for months—he cared for Gwyn Hillerman. In a way he’d never cared for anyone else. Could this be real love? Not the superficial physical-appearance love that he thought he’d had for Sophia. But the real thing?
He longed to tell Gwyn how he felt. But what would she say, since she didn’t know the truth?
All those lies. He’d lived them. Now there wouldn’t be any chance of his gaining Gwyn’s affection. When she found out what had happened in Chicago and that he’d been engaged to her sister, she’d never forgive him.
Dr. Hillerman wouldn’t forgive him.
The colonists wouldn’t forgive him.
And he’d never be able to practice medicine again.
21
CHICAGO
The pen fell from between his teeth onto the desk. Jackpot.
Frank sat down hard and studied the papers in his hand. William Novak had a brother.
Clarence Novak. And according to his contact in Anchorage, Clarence was still in Alaska.
AKA Tony Griffin. Former bank manager at First National Bank of Chicago.
William and his wife, Suzanne, had been chosen as one of two hundred and three families for President Roosevelt’s now famous New Deal project—the Matanuska Colony Project. Right now, Clarence resided in a tent with his brother’s family. The perfect hiding place. Where no one would find him.
Except Frank Rhoads. Everyone else had given up on the case. But he hadn’t. He was a Pinkerton. And he didn’t fail.
He typed a memo to his boss, using all the notes from the case. Hunting and pecking with his index fingers didn’t go as fast as he wanted. Maybe one of these days he would learn how to type the real way. He jammed the pen back in between his teeth as he pulled the sheet of paper out of the barrel and checked for mistakes. As soon as his boss approved it, he’d head to Alaska. And one Clarence Novak—mastermind behind the First National Bank robbery—would be his.
It didn’t take much for Frank to pack. Most of the time, he kept a bag ready with everything he needed since he was on the road constantly. There was always some criminal waiting to be apprehended or a crime scene that needed review. One day Frank hoped to settle down. Have a family. But he couldn’t put anyone through the life that he lived now. Besides, when would he meet a woman to marry? On his next arrest? The thought made him chuckle.
He carried the bag back into his office. His boss wanted to see him one more time and discuss the plan before he left.
He picked up the phone’s earpiece and then stuck his pen in the zero slot on the rotary and slid it around.
“Operator—”
“Frank!” a man called from the door. “I’m so glad I caught you!” The familiar voice caused Frank to hang up on the poor operator.
“Howard, what are you doing down here?” He stuck out his hand.
“I need your help.” His old friend shook it.
“Anything.” Howard Vaughan had saved Frank’s life ten years ago on Lake Michigan. “You know it.”
“It’s my cousin.”
“The doctor? Sorry about that, Howie. When I read that in the papers, my heart broke for your family.”
Howard sat down and removed his hat. “Th
at’s the thing. I’ve been appealing his case, and I had a hard time tracking him down. That’s where you come in.”
“Whatcha got?”
“I spoke with your boss this morning on the phone, and he told me you were about to go to Alaska—to the FDR colony in Matanuska. I finally had a letter catch up with me from Jeremiah. He’s there.” Howard handed over a picture. “The letter was posted months ago and must have gotten lost on its way. I need to get in touch with him, and I don’t want to send a letter and have it go astray. Since you’re heading there, I thought maybe you’d be willing to help me.”
“Well, I’ve got another case that’s first priority, but I’ll be glad to find Jeremiah as soon as it’s concluded.” Frank looked his friend in the eye. “You look plum worn out. Is it pretty serious?”
“Yes.” Howard nodded. “It’s urgent.”
MATANUSKA VALLEY
Very little sleep the past week was not helping her mood. Gwyn’s brain was muddled. Like a big bowl of mush. There’d been no time to talk to Jeremiah in more days than she’d counted. Everyone had to pitch in with harvest, canning, and building colonists’ homes. Only half of the families had moved in to a home with a solid roof over their heads, and way too many of the other homes weren’t even framed all the way. Cooler temperatures had arrived, and Gwyn was certain the snow would fly soon. Oh, they’d have plenty of time before the brutal cold arrived and stayed, but these first few signs were glaring reminders of all that was left to do.
The only consolation she’d had was a long chat with her father last night. They’d stayed up late eating sugar cookies Gwyn had made for the students celebrating their first full week of school. With all the new teachers finally in Alaska, they’d started their rounds to the camps and homes, giving homework and grading papers. The plan—at least until schools were built—was for the teachers to make it to each family once a week, assign work for the children, and then head back the next week for more lessons and to pick up the papers completed by the children. It was far from perfect, but it would have to do. A small cabin next to the community hall had been temporarily assigned to the teachers. Only one room, it would have to do until all the colonists’ homes were done.
All Things Hidden Page 22