The Secret of Fair Hill: A Refuge in Fair Hill Book 2

by Faith Cummings

The entire community was present at the funeral that took place at my parents' farm, where Mother and Father were to be buried. I stood silently with the Larsens throughout the service and wept. I thought that the tears would never stop falling as I stood and listened to what the minister said. Others were crying too as they listened.

  "We all share the loss and grief that Barbara feels this morning," the minister began quietly. "We have all lost two very dear friends. Kate and Joseph Scott came here after their marriage. They immediately became important and well-loved members of this community. They were hardworking and generous people. They were always willing to help others. It was evident to us all that they loved their land and this community. Later, their daughter was born here and we watched Kate and Joseph raise her. Barbara has also become one of us. Kate and Joseph have been tragically taken from us though they were still young. They might have had many more years to live among us but it was not to be. Now we are also going to lose Barbara as she is going to her Uncle in Vermont. The three of them will be sorely missed. It is difficult, I know for us to understand why people as young as Kate and Joseph die. But it is not for us to understand everything that happens in our lives. We grieve with Barbara at their loss and go on with our lives, just as she will go on with hers. But we live in the promise and the hope that we will see Kate and Joseph again when we ourselves go to be with the Lord."

  I found myself wondering about these last few words. Would I see my parents again when I died? Were they with God? Was all I had been taught really true? I didn't know. After the end of the service, some farmers lowered the coffins into the graves that they had dug the previous day. Then they started to cover them with dirt. I ran back to the shelter of the house as I heard the clods hitting the wood of the coffins. I couldn't bear to see them disappear into the ground. I went to my room for a moment, knowing that I would have to come down again soon. There would be a meal now in the house for all who cared to stay after the funeral. Many families who came had brought food. I closed the door of my room and looked at all the familiar things it contained. I had lived here since I could remember. Now my parents were gone. I must sell almost everything. I could only keep what I could carry away with me. My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. I reluctantly opened it to see the minister standing before me.

  "I saw you leave the graves, Barbara, and I noticed that you didn't pray with us during the funeral." He said entering the room with me. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  "Reverend Schmidt, I don't understand why, if there is a God who loves us, He took my parents!" There was anger in my voice and my gray eyes flashed as I faced him. "My Ma always told me that God was love. She always said that He cared about us. But if that's true, then why did He do this?"

  "Barbara, there are many things about God that we don't understand. I have to admit I don't know why He took your parents. There must be some reason."

  "What does He expect me to do now?" I asked, still angry.

  "I don't know that either," he replied, wishing he could say something more to help. "But if you just keep going, maybe soon you will come to understand some reasons for what is happening now."

  "I don't think I'll ever understand," I announced firmly. "And I'm tired of trying to figure out a God who won't let me know why He does things."

  "I'll pray that soon He will," the man told me gently. "I know He'll answer someday." I felt too empty inside to make any response. The minister left me. I remained in my room, not taking part in the meal eaten after the funeral. I sat idly on the edge of my bed, my hands folded in my lap, staring into empty space. It was quiet here. I didn't have to think or do anything.

  I didn't hear the door open three hours later when Aunt Lily entered, carrying a plate of food and a cup of tea. Not wanting to startle me, Aunt Lily put the food down on a table near the bed and then sat beside me. It was a few minutes before I turned to face her.

  "I don't want anything, Aunt Lily," I said, seeing the plate and cup.

  "I'll leave it in case you change your mind," she answered with understanding. "It's not good for you to sit up here alone."

  "I don't imagine that much of anything is good for me right now," I replied absently. "But I had to be alone."

  "Reverend Schmidt said you were quite upset with him."

  "I'm not angry with him, I'm angry with God, if there really is one." Aunt Lily was horrified.

  "Your Pa and Ma always told you there was, didn't they?"

  "Yes, but I'm not sure I believe."

  "You can't stop believing in God just because two people you love die.

  " "I can." I answered simply. "Because if I don't, nothing makes any sense."

  "None of it makes sense either way," Aunt Lily argued. "There's no logical sense to your Pa and Ma dying."

  "Well, there is if you don't bring any God into it." I went on. "They caught a disease and died. It's that simple."

  "Then why didn't you catch it too?"

  "I don't know. Why didn't the whole community catch it?" Aunt Lily couldn't answer that.

  * * *

  I remained at my parents' farm after the funeral, wishing to spend a few more days before having to leave it. I did all the milking and the other chores leaving Uncle Ben his farm to worry about. I went about my work in silence, speaking only now and then to the animals. I did the daily chores and packed my few things for the trip to Vermont. Everything else was ready to be sold. The sale would be the following Saturday. Some farmers nearby came to look at the cows and horses, deciding which ones they would bid on at the sale.

  In the middle of the following week, a couple with two small children offered me a fair price on the entire farm. He said he wanted to keep it as it was. He would buy all the stock, the land, the house, and all its contents. I decided it was easier to do this than to have to sell everything piece by piece. I talked to a lawyer in town, a friend of my parents, asking him if the price I was being offered was indeed fair. He said it was, advising me to sell the farm to this man. He said he would spread the word that there would be no sale after all. I thanked him and went back to the farm, where the man and his family were waiting. "I've had the papers drawn up," I said handing them to him as I dismounted from my horse. "All you have to do is sign them and give me the agreed upon amount." He read the papers carefully then signed them while his wife and children looked on from the porch. He gave me the money in cash as agreed. I had never seen so much money at once. Being a little concerned about traveling to Vermont with so much cash, I took it to the bank and had most of it made into a bank draft. I kept only enough to meet my needs and to get me to Vermont. I could then deposit the draft in a bank in Vermont and withdraw the rest when I needed it. As I was leaving the bank, I saw Uncle Ben's team hitched to the rail near the general store. I went to the store and found both he and Aunt Lily doing a bit of shopping.

  "I've sold the farm," I announced after greeting them. "I'll be leaving in the morning."

  "Where will you stay the night?" Aunt Lily asked, giving me a hug.

  "I can stay at the farm, they said, since it's only one night."

  "How are you getting to Vermont? Is your uncle coming for you?" Uncle Ben wanted to know.

  "No, he doesn't even know I'm coming. I'll take a train in the morning."

  "Maybe you should have told him beforehand," Aunt Lily suggested. "You could still send a telegram." I thought about that and decided against it. If they knew I was coming, they might think of some way to stop me. I decided it was best just to go and work things out when I arrived. I spent a restless night in my room at the farm. I was up and dressed very early the next morning. While I had been in town the day before, I had gotten a small trunk to carry my things to Vermont. I asked Uncle Ben to bring it to me in his wagon. He had done this the previous night. It was almost packed and ready to go. I put a few last minute things inside and locked it for the trip. When I opened the door to my room, the man who had bought the farm was just going downstairs to do t
he chores. "Would you mind carrying this trunk down for me?" I asked, seeing him leave his room. He said he wouldn't mind and took it down to the kitchen. He had also agreed the day before to give me a ride to the train station. Before we left, I had breakfast with the family in the warm, familiar kitchen.

  "I imagine you'll miss this place," the woman said as she cleared the breakfast table and noticed me watching her.

  "I will, but I think it's in good hands. I couldn't have kept it going all by myself."

  "I hope everything goes well for you back east," the other said as she washed the small hands and face of her youngest child.

  "I don't really know what will happen when I get there," I admitted. "But my Pa wanted me to go so I'm going."

  "You've never met this uncle then?" The man asked, putting his empty coffee cup on the table.

  "No, I'm not even sure that they know I exist," I said with a brief smile. "But they're about to find out."

  "You let us know if you need anything or if there's something from here you've forgotten. We'll gladly send it to you." The woman's face was kind and full of warmth. "I'm a little concerned about you going so far all alone."

  "Oh, I'll be all right," I assured her. "Uncle Alan won't turn me away. Pa told me he wouldn't." A little later that morning, I rode with the man to the train station and boarded the train for Vermont. He saw that my trunk also was put aboard and then drove back to the farm as the train left the station and headed East. The trip was long, dusty and tedious. It lasted a week. I spent most of the time trying not to be bored. I talked with some of my fellow passengers, but kept to myself, for the most part, not feeling very much like company. I didn't think I had ever felt so alone. But then, I had never been so alone before. There had always been my parents and the familiarity of my home and community in Wisconsin. Now I was alone. I didn't know what lay ahead for me in Vermont. Whatever happened, I had only myself to rely on. No one else was looking out for me. I didn't have any idea what my uncle's reaction to my arrival might be. Whatever it was, I must be independent and strong. I could no longer depend on anyone else. It was too much to bear sometimes. During those moments when I felt heavily burdened, I looked out my window, trying to lose myself in the scenery. There were farms, villages, and large cities. I wondered what the people who lived there were like. When I reached Vermont, I was weary and dusty like all the others on the train around me. We had to travel through most of Vermont to get to the town of Newport where my uncle and aunt lived. It was a good sized town with a river running through it. I liked it at once and hoped I could fit in. When the train stopped, a conductor helped me down bringing my trunk to where I waited nearby.

  "You'll need some help with this, it's heavy. Is someone coming to meet you?"

  "No, I have to find the house where my uncle lives. Could my trunk be left at the station until someone can come and pick it up?" He said that would be fine and took it to the nearby station for me. I went with him to talk to the man in charge there.

  "I'll come and get it tomorrow or perhaps even later today," I told him. "I just have to find my uncle's house first."

  "Your uncle?" The station master asked with interest.

  "His name is Alan Scott. My father told me he was very rich."

  The man's eyes opened wide. He gazed at me for a moment in silence. "You mean the architect Alan Scott?" He finally managed.

  "Yes, that's the one."

  "He lives some distance from here. You'll need to have someone take you there. It's too far to walk."

  "Is his office nearer to the station? Maybe I could go there first and talk to him." He seemed to think this might be a good idea since the office was only three blocks away. I listened carefully to his directions then left to walk the short distance to my uncle's office. When I reached the building he had described I saw my uncle's name on the door and went inside hoping to find him soon. I wished I didn't look quite so disheveled from the trip, but that couldn't be helped. I found a young man only a little older than myself sitting at a large desk. I asked him where I might find Alan Scott. He was somewhat surprised at my appearance but pointed to a door a few steps away.

  "He's in there," he answered slowly. "Do you have an appointment?"

  "No, but I've come from Wisconsin to see him." I replied and walked quickly toward the closed door. I knocked firmly. Someone within called for me to come in. I opened the door and entered, closing it behind me.

  "I'm not expecting anyone just now," the tall, stooped man at the desk said curtly. "And I'm very busy. What are you doing here? Who are you?" His blue eyes seemed to look right through me. They were cold as he stared into my face.

  "Are you Alan Scott?" I asked, somewhat shakily.

  "Yes. Who are you?" He demanded.

  "I'm Barbara Leticia Scott, your niece." I said slowly. "I'm your brother Joseph's daughter." He sat silent for a few moments then rose from his chair and came to stand before me. The change that came to his face was amazing! His eyes grew warm and his face was wreathed in a smile.

  "I thought you looked like someone I knew, but I couldn't figure out who it was." He told me, giving me a chair and seating himself near me. "What brings you all the way to Newport?"

  "I'm afraid I've got bad news," I said meeting his gaze. "My father and mother were taken with the fever recently. I have no sisters or brothers or any other family back in Wisconsin. My father told me I should come to you." Again, he was silent for a time, then he spoke carefully.

  "I'm glad your father put such trust in me," he began. "But I'm not sure what my wife will think about having a child in the house." I know," he hurried to add. "That you aren't really a child, at least not one who needs much of looking after, but you aren't an adult yet and she doesn't like children very much."

  "But you're not sorry that I'm here?" I asked, suddenly needing to have an adult I could lean upon.

  He sensed my need and pulled me to him for a moment. "No, Barbara, I'm not sorry you've come," he told me gently. "I've always wanted a daughter."

  My tears were falling fast. I hadn't realized how much I needed an older person. He held me wordlessly while I wept, wiping a few tears from his eyes at the thought of his brother's recent death. He and Joseph had been two of five sons. They had all been very close. They had grown up there in Vermont but Joseph had left at twenty-one to go to Wisconsin. Now he was dead and this petite young girl was coming to him for help. Joseph had sent me to him, knowing that Alan wouldn't turn me away and somehow also knowing just how much He, Alan, needed me. After a while, I drew away, wiping my tear stained face with a handkerchief.

  "I must look awful!" I said, laughing a little through the last of my tears.

  "No worse than I do," he said with a little chuckle. "Let's go get your things and take you home." I rose with him and we left the office to go to the train station in his carriage and pick up my trunk. Alan and I sat comfortably inside the carriage while the coachman got the trunk and put it in the back. Then he drove us home to the large estate which Sheila Scott, Alan's wife, had inherited from her father.

  * * *

  When we drove into the large, gravelly drive, I could hardly believe my eyes. The mansion was larger than I could ever have imagined. There were stables and woods around it and an extensive, well-kept flower garden. There wasn't anything in bloom now, of course, but I could imagine what it must be like in the spring and summer. Alan helped me from the carriage and asked a waiting servant to bring in my trunk. We entered the house and went to the library, off the entrance hall. A maid said Sheila was not at home now. She had gone to a friend's home for the afternoon.

  "We'll have some tea brought here then, and talk a while until Sheila arrives home," Alan told me, seating himself in a comfortable chair. I took a smaller chair, gazing at the shelf lined walls. There were more books here than I had ever seen. "Do you like to read?" He asked, seeing the direction of my eyes.

  "Yes, but we didn't have many books at home," I answered.

 
; "Well, feel free to read as much as you like," he said, happy that someone would enjoy these seldom read books. A servant soon brought us tea and little cakes. She brought the tea and cakes on silver dishes and in a silver pot. There was fine china to drink the tea from and little plates made of the same delicate china from which to eat the cakes. I felt a little awkward at first but my uncle soon made me feel at ease. We talked of my parents and of the life I had led in Wisconsin. Then he told me a little about his work and about the house in which we sat.

  “My wife, your aunt Sheila, inherited this house from her father. Uncle Alan explained. “Usually, when a woman is married, it is her husband who owns the property. But this estate belongs to Sheila. Her father put it in his will that the estate was hers and that I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Why did he do that, Uncle Alan? Didn’t he like you?”

  “He wasn’t too sure that I wouldn’t make changes to the estate. He always felt that I was not quite good enough for his daughter. But I learned all I know from him and that is a lot! When we married, all the assets, the estate and the company stayed in the family so to speak. He liked that. But he didn’t want me changing anything here at the estate. And e always believed that Sheila and I would someday separate, so he made sure she would always have a home here.”

  “So that’s why you are concerned as to whether she will want me here?” I asked, a little concerned as to how this day might end.

  “I am a bit unsure,” he admitted. “And I don’t stand up to her very often. I know I should, but she still controls things here at home.”

  We lost track of time and were somewhat surprised by the entrance of Sheila a few hours later. She was tall and commanding. She swept into the library and glared at her husband for a moment before speaking. He looked up and smiled in spite of her seeming anger.

  "Sheila, I'm glad you're back," he began.

  "Yes, it seems I should have been here hours ago," she said glancing ruefully at my dusty clothes. “I hope you intend to explain all this." She took a chair and poured herself some fresh tea that had been brought.