Secrets of My Heart

by Tracie Peterson

  Nancy was ready for this question. “His entire village was taken in the night by other natives and sold to white traders.”

  He paused and gave her a smile. “You make a wonderful cup of coffee, Nancy. Furthermore, you are correct that those poor black men and women were forced into chains and sold into slavery. That’s why I think they should be sent back to whatever origin they came from.”

  Nancy had heard this argument as well. “Would you want someone telling you that you had to go back to your place of origin rather than remain here in America? If I remember correctly, didn’t you once mention to Albert that your grandparents came here from Albania?”

  “True enough, my dear, but my parents and I were born here. We’re as American as anyone else.”

  “So you only want to send back the black people who were born in Africa? Most of those who live here were born here. Will you allow them to be citizens? After all, they were born here, so by your own argument, they are Americans.”

  “I believe each state should be allowed to decide that for themselves, and Oregon says no.”

  Nancy shook her head. “But wasn’t that in part what we fought a war over? States’ rights versus federal government? I thought the war concluded that all states would be united as one.”

  “Yes, but there are still strong states’ rights, and I believe this should be one of them. As I said, sound minds rescinded the Fourteenth Amendment and will never ratify the Fifteenth.”

  Nancy got up and retrieved the coffeepot. These were the kind of arguments she didn’t mind. She had enjoyed such debates with Albert and before that with her brothers, uncle, and father on other topics. Women weren’t thought to be interested in such matters, but Nancy found it all rather fascinating.

  “And yet a state refusing to ratify an amendment does not make it null and void.” She held up the coffeepot. “More?”

  Gerome shook his head. “I can’t tarry. I have an oration to give at two. In fact, I will be speaking about some of these very things. You should accompany me.”

  “I’m in mourning, Gerome. Remember?” She returned the pot to the stove without pouring herself another cup. “But I appreciate the invitation and your concern for my well-being. I assure you I will send word if there is something I need you to handle for me. Until then, however, I am fully capable of managing my affairs.” She walked with him to the door and picked up his hat from the receiving table. “Thank you for checking up on me, but I am truly fine.”

  She extended the hat and he took it, allowing his fingers to touch hers. His dark-eyed gaze searched her face. “I hope you know that I care deeply for you. I have always, well, been envious of Albert’s position in your life. Perhaps in time . . .”

  She opened the door. “Good day, Mr. Berkshire.”

  He hesitated, then gave her a curt nod. “Good day, Mrs. Pritchard.”

  Gerome reached the end of the sidewalk and paused to stare back at the large two-story—three-story, if one counted the attic—Gothic Revival house. He could remember when Albert Pritchard had announced he was building it for his soon-to-be wife. Gerome had suggested a less imposing style, but Albert had informed him that Nancy herself had picked out the house, with its wrapping porch and turret. She had seen the architecture in Godey’s Lady’s Book during their courtship and mentioned she’d very much like such a house one day. Albert had greatly enjoyed surprising his young bride with the gift.

  And why not? She had been thrilled when told it was to be their home. Gerome could still see the way her face had lit up—the way she had thrown herself into Albert’s arms and showered him with kisses. One day he hoped Nancy might offer him the same reward. Of course, he would have to find some other audacious gift with which to impress her, and that would cost money. Money he didn’t have to spare. Yet.

  He walked to where his man waited with his enclosed carriage. “Grayson, take me to the Lakewood home.”

  “Very good, sir.” Grayson tipped his hat, then helped Gerome into the carriage.

  Gerome settled back against the leather seat. He wasn’t pleased with the way his conversation with Nancy had turned out, but then, he hadn’t known what to expect. Nancy and Albert Pritchard had always been an odd pair. They seemed quite happy with each other in many ways, but there always seemed to be an impenetrable wall around them. They refused to reveal too much of their personal life to friends and family, and that had always irritated Gerome. He and Albert had been friends for a long time, but Albert had shocked him when he’d announced that he was taking a wife.

  The carriage slowed and came to a stop in front of Samuel Lakewood’s impressive three-story home built in the Second Empire fashion. The brick house displayed the mansard roof and imposing tower that were characteristic of that architectural style. Lakewood was said to own an identical home on the East Coast and had built this home to match just before the War Between the States broke out. Heavily invested in a large shipping firm he’d inherited from his father and grandfather, Samuel had called the war “Lincoln’s folly” and moved his entire family west until the fighting had ceased. While in Portland, however, he had made a fortune and decided to stay on after the war.

  Gerome stepped from the carriage and marveled at the impressive grounds that bespoke wealth, with flower beds and statues amidst paved walkways.

  “Boss, I was beginning to wonder if you were coming,” Newt Hanson declared, appearing from one of the small groves.

  Gerome tolerated the comment and shrugged. “I had business with Mrs. Pritchard.”

  Hanson grinned. “That kind of business wouldn’t be too hard to endure.”

  Gerome frowned. “She is a lady of esteem and a new widow to boot. You’d best mind your tongue.”

  “Sorry, boss.” Hanson had the decency to look contrite.

  “Well, don’t let me catch you speaking that way again. I plan to one day make her my wife, and I won’t tolerate any such talk.” Gerome didn’t give him time to respond. “I’m glad you’re here. I have some business I need you to take care of.”

  Hanson nodded. “I’m your man.”

  That brought a smile to Gerome’s face. “I know you are. Bought and paid for.”

  Chapter 4

  Nearly a month to the day of her husband’s body being discovered, Nancy opened Albert’s office in order to tackle the job of finding his will. Many people believed the first of April to be a day for pranks and tomfoolery, but Nancy felt it the perfect day to deal with the reality that she was a widow and had no idea where she stood regarding her finances and future.

  Albert had been meticulous in his organization and housekeeping. He never wanted Nancy in his office and thus kept it tidy by his own hand. Maybe that was why she hesitated to enter and stood in silent contemplation in the doorway.

  She gazed at the dark room for several moments before squaring her shoulders. She was an intruder here, just as she had been in almost every area of Albert Pritchard’s life. He had kept himself so private that at times she feared he must be running from a terrible past. Other times she just accepted that he was a man of few words.

  She hesitated to move forward, as if she could feel Albert’s recriminations.

  “This is ridiculous. It’s my office now.”

  She marched across the room to raise the shades first. A fine layer of dust wafted into the air as the shades rolled up. Nancy pushed back the lace curtains to look out on her lawn. Soon she would have to hire a boy to tend the yard and cut the grass. Albert had always managed such matters, and she had no idea where he found workers. She supposed she could speak with Mrs. Taylor about it. The older woman lived only a few houses away.

  Letting go of the curtain panel, Nancy turned to face the office. A large mahogany desk sat in the middle of the room, perfectly positioned atop a beautiful Oriental rug of blues and golds. To the right of the desk was a wall of bookshelves, and behind a portion of those books was a lockbox in which Albert kept important papers. She knew this only because she’d walk
ed in on him once putting it back. Surprisingly enough, rather than reprimand her, Albert had simply nodded and told her that the box contained important papers. They never spoke of it again.

  On the opposite end of the room, a marble-framed fireplace stood with two large leather chairs positioned at either side. Albert had often held meetings here with one or more gentlemen. Even so, for all the men who had come and gone in this room, Nancy was the only female who had crossed the threshold. And she could count the number of times she had done so on one hand. Albert preferred she not make a nuisance of herself when he was working, and she refrained from challenging his authority. Although she had often wondered why he felt the need for such secrecy.

  She made her way to the desk. The surface was clear except for a pen and inkwell and a stack of blotting paper. The drawers to the desk were locked, but Nancy had already guessed they would be and had brought the key from Albert’s bedroom.

  She opened the drawers and began to sort through the various neat stacks. She came across a small black journal and opened it. Here she found a list of household expenses and names and addresses for various vendors and repairmen, including the man he used for yard work. Flipping through the pages, she found a variety of people listed, as well as a single page that noted her birthday, their anniversary, and various things she had at times mentioned interest in. She could see from the list that Albert used these thoughts when purchasing gifts for her. She shook her head at his meticulous order.

  Poor Albert. He hadn’t had a spontaneous thought of his own. Everything was carefully considered and plotted out.

  She put the book aside and continued to search for any sign of a will or letter to explain his final wishes. She was on the final drawer when she found an envelope with her name clearly printed on the outside. Beneath that was written:

  To be read upon my death.

  Nancy pulled the envelope from the drawer and stared at it for several minutes. For some reason, seeing this letter, holding it now, made her sadder than she’d been upon hearing of Albert’s demise. Being in his office, going through his personal things—it just made everything so final.

  She tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter. Unfolding it, she drew a deep breath. The letter was brief and without any formality or sentiment.

  Nancy,

  If you are reading this, then I am dead. I have left all my worldly goods to you, as my will clarifies. You will find my will in the lockbox behind the books. The key is beneath the lampstand.

  Albert

  Nothing about his love or their years together. Nothing about his hopes for her well-being. Nothing.

  She went to the lampstand. Albert had purchased the brass lamp when they’d first married. It was a replica of a ship’s lantern and one of the few things he had purchased for himself out of sentiment. He had told her that he spent many years in his youth working on the Columbia and Willamette Rivers. His life on the water made for some of the best years of his life. How ironic that it should be the river that took his life as well.

  She lifted the heavy lamp and found a key in the hollow beneath. Carefully replacing the lamp, Nancy couldn’t help but feel a sense of anxiety. Until today, she hadn’t really considered Albert’s will, but now she felt an urgency to know what it said.

  The lockbox sat behind a row of books. The way they were positioned and the sizes of the books made that row look no different than the rest of the shelves, but the box was there nevertheless. Nancy pulled it out and slipped the key into the lock. It easily opened, and inside Nancy found several papers. The will was on top, and the other papers proved to be deeds for the house and store and a bill of sale for the horse.

  She ignored the rest and took the will to the window, where she could read it more easily. The handwriting was definitely Albert’s. She scanned the pages. As he’d said, Albert had left her everything. He’d listed everything of particular value, leaving out details as to the full contents of the house and store. It had been witnessed by two men, neither of whose names Nancy recognized. She considered what was to be done next. Gerome had mentioned a lawyer. She knew several, including her uncle Lance Kenner, but he was in Oregon City, and using him would mean a trip home—which she had no desire to make. She supposed she could just send him a letter, but she figured enough time had already passed.

  John Lincoln and his wife, Eliza, attended Nancy’s church. She had often heard that John was a well-respected lawyer. She would go and see him. No doubt he could manage the will and estate. She glanced at the clock. With any luck at all, she could go to John’s office and be back before late afternoon. She wasn’t sure where his office was, exactly, but she also needed to go to the bank and figured they would surely be able to assist her. Now it was just a matter of deciding how she’d get there.

  An hour later, Nancy was dressed and ready to go. She had chosen her heavily veiled hat to avoid having to greet people on the street. They would see by her attire that she was in deep mourning and, out of respect, most would leave her be. The rest she would deal with on an individual basis.

  When the boy came to exercise the horse and feed and water him, Nancy asked if he might instead drive her to town. “I’ve business that shouldn’t take more than an hour or two. I will pay you double what you normally earn for your work here.”

  “Sure, I can do that, missus,” the young man replied. He tipped his hat. “I’ll have ol’ Racer hitched in a quick minute.”

  The boy was as good as his word. Nancy was soon settled into the small buggy with the young man at her side.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name,” she murmured.

  “David. Folks just call me David.” He slapped the lines, and Racer started down the street. “Where we goin’ today, ma’am?”

  “The Ladd & Tilton Bank. I need to get some cash in order to pay you. I know very little about the arrangement you had with my husband.”

  David smiled. “He paid me ten dollars a month, ma’am. He kept entries on when he paid me in a little red book in his desk. He paid at the end of the month, so I didn’t get the money for last month.”

  Nancy nodded. She had seen that book. “Very well. I will see to your pay for March. I don’t know yet if I’m going to keep the horse and buggy, but I do want to continue to employ your services for the time being. In fact, could you check in with me each day after you care for the horse?”

  “I’d be happy to, ma’am.”

  She studied the slim boy. “How old are you, David?”

  “Sixteen, ma’am.”

  “And you work full-time instead of going to school?”

  “Ain’t no reason for me to go to school, ma’am. I know what I need to know.”

  “Oh? What is that?”

  “Horses.” He smiled at her. “Horses is what I’ll make a livin’ at, so I have no need for books.”

  “I see.” She nodded. “And what about your family?”

  “Same for them. Horses is what we know. My pa, and my ma too. I reckon my brothers will be the same, though they’re a bit younger than me.”

  “I have two brothers,” Nancy murmured. “There were three, but one died. I have a younger sister, as well.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to tell him this.

  “There were ten of us children at one time,” he said, keeping his gaze on the road. “Four were called to Jesus, like your brother.”

  “How sad. That must have been difficult for you.”

  He nodded. “It was especially hard for my ma. Pa said nobody ever mourns the loss of a child as much as the mother.”

  Nancy said nothing. Losing her little brother had been more devastating than any other experience in her life. Her pain was certainly no less than her mother’s. Even now, fifteen years later, the loss still cut her to the quick, and the memory was more than she could bear.

  David seemed to understand her need for silence and said nothing as he drove through the busy morning traffic. Nancy barely paid attention to the world around her
as her anxiety increased. She should have just sent David to the bank and lawyer’s in her stead. She was almost ready to tell him to take her home when he announced they had reached the bank.

  He jumped down after securing the carriage and helped Nancy to the ground. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  She gave him a nod and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you. I shouldn’t be long.”

  She made her way inside the large bank, ignoring the people milling around her. Her purpose was singular. She would receive cash from her account and inquire about the location of John Lincoln’s law office.

  “Good morning, madam. How may I assist you?” a smartly dressed teller asked. His smile faded a bit at the sight of her mourning clothes.

  She pushed the bank draft she’d brought from Albert’s office toward him. “I’d like to cash this.”

  “Of course.” He took the draft and looked it over.

  “I’m also in need of the address for John Lincoln. He’s a lawyer, and I know his office is near the bank.”

  “I’m uncertain of the address, madam, but I’m sure we can ascertain that for you if you’ll just wait here.”

  The teller left his area, and Nancy watched as he made his way to a man seated behind a desk at the far end of the room. The man glanced across the sea of people to where she stood, making her feel awkwardly on display. She hadn’t realized that she would feel uncomfortable coming to town, but she did. In fact, she found herself fighting the urge to run from the building.

  What’s wrong with me? It’s not like I’ve never come to the bank before. She had often come downtown on her own. Why should she feel so out of place now just because Albert was dead?

  Thankfully, the teller returned before her anxiety rose high enough to make her flee. “I have that address for you, madam, as well as the cash from your transaction.” He handed her a slip of paper.

  Nancy studied the address while he completed her transaction. She put the cash in her drawstring purse and thanked him for his help before making her way from the bank.