All Things Hidden Page 2

  And what of the hundreds of transient workers the board planned to bring up? They would help provide jobs and also help out the colonists, but they were going to be in need of medical care as well. Especially when clearing land and building on an insane timeline were involved. The rush plus the people not being acclimated to Alaska could prove to be disastrous. Harold prayed not.

  His thoughts drifted to Edith. His wife’s disdain for his work bothered him to this day. She had never liked the native Alaskan people and disliked his work with them even more. When she left, she’d blamed him. Could he have done something more to keep her here?

  But her goals and wishes for him had always been her own visions of grandeur. Raised in wealth and in the city, she’d jumped at the chance to marry a promising doctor from a good family. Harold had fooled himself to think it was because of love. Their first few years had been wonderful, but very busy with his work at the hospital in Chicago and the addition of their two baby girls.

  Edith’s true heart appeared several months after the Hillerman family arrived in the Alaska Territory in 1916 to homestead. With the railroad’s work to connect the interior to the ports, four hundred homesteads had been applied for the previous years. Harold knew he could build a medical practice and work to help build the hospital in Anchorage. The territory was exciting to all the wealthy people in society. Edith and her friends seemed so supportive of this new move. But once they left Chicago, she’d followed like a ghost as a dutiful wife with two young children. And her demeanor changed. After the difficult journey and the realization that the comforts of home wouldn’t be in Alaska for years, possibly decades, her silence turned to rage.

  In his heart, all these years, Harold knew he’d married a spoiled girl, but she’d always been sweet. And she was so beautiful. But after the fateful move to this beautiful land, in private she unleashed her anger on him. He worked hard to please her, and Edith’s pride kept her by his side until her father suffered a massive heart attack after the stock market crash of ’29.

  It was all the excuse she needed. And she left.

  Harold glanced at Gwyn again. Her hands folded tight in her lap, eyes closed. Probably praying about the changes to come. As he gazed at his older daughter, he pondered what he’d done to deserve her loyalty, and where he’d gone wrong with her sister, Sophia.

  When Gwyn had followed him around like a young pup, wanting to learn anything and everything there was to know about helping people, Sophia wanted more ribbons for her hair and soaked up every word Edith told her about how the “real” world lived. All the talk of grand dances, lavish dinner parties, and society occasions filled the young beauty’s head with the same ideals as her mother.

  And he’d allowed it. Allowed one daughter to be spoiled while granting himself the adoration of the other.

  Guilt squeezed his heart in time with the chugging of the train. If only he’d been a better husband, a better father, maybe they would have stayed . . . maybe . . .

  No. This wasn’t an easy place to live. Beautiful and fertile, yes, but darkness, harsh winters, and death caused more than one family to abandon their homes and farms. Only about a hundred of the original families were left.

  Edith tried to convince Gwyn to leave “this Godforsaken country” with her and Sophia, stating that no young woman should be left in the wild, untamed land. But as much as Edith argued and yelled, Gwyn dug in her heels and stayed by Harold’s side.

  Edith left with not even a hug for her husband and daughter. Harold would never forget the sting of her expression as she looked over her shoulder at him, grabbed Sophia’s hand, jutted her chin forward, and walked away.

  And they hadn’t returned.

  His heart shattered that day.

  A tear rolling down Gwyn’s cheek caught his attention and brought him back to the present. A wife abandoning a husband was one thing, but a mother abandoning a child was quite another.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Gwyn wasn’t one for coddling or sympathy, so he pressed the kerchief into her hand. Even though she never expressed it to him, he knew. The worry in her eyes every time he left without her. The tears every time she received a letter in Edith’s handwriting.

  Her heart had never healed either.

  She dabbed at the tears and straightened her shoulders. “Well, I guess we have a lot of work to do.” The weak smile she gave him couldn’t erase the fear he saw in her eyes.

  “Yes, it sounds like we will have our hands full.”

  She looked forward and sniffed. “I know you are excited about this, Father. I will do whatever I can to help.”

  “I know you will.”

  Gwyn turned back to the window.

  Harold let his thoughts roam. Excited? Yes, he was excited. New people. New families. New homes. New farms. New businesses.

  Their beautiful valley would thrive.

  But Gwyn didn’t share his excitement. At least not yet.

  His mind couldn’t quite take in all the thoughts as it jumped from one subject to another. He longed to be able to discuss them with his daughter but knew she needed time to digest all the information thrown at them in the meeting.

  America needed encouragement through these tough times. Alaska was bountiful. This was sure to be a successful project. But the thought of more than two thousand people for one physician to care for overwhelmed him. Gwyn’s gifts as a nurse were valuable. She had no formal training, no hospital work, no experience whatsoever except what she’d learned from him. Would the government consider sending him another doctor? Most of his patients lived off the beaten path in small villages. And he didn’t desire to give up his work with the native Indian people. Would the government expect that of him? Would they see the natives as less important and demand he work solely with the whites?

  Even if they tried to demand it, he wouldn’t allow for it. People were people no matter the color of their skin or the place they lived. He’d give his all, so long as he had the ability to work.

  But it wouldn’t be easy. He knew that. He wasn’t one of those men who could cast aside the truth and pretend that roses would pop up where turnips had been planted.

  An idea took root. He needed help. Where could he find someone with enough of an adventurous spirit to abandon city life and a steady income to come here? During one of the worst economic times the country had ever seen?

  The scent of spruce trees and the glittering powder of fresh-fallen snow greeted Gwyn as she exited the train at the tiny stop for their valley. Quiet. Serene. With nothing around. Finally, her world was right again. The meeting with the ARRC had been thrilling. To her father, at least. To her, it just meant change. The unknown. Between all the details and the rapid timeline, she found her thoughts spinning out of control. As they made the trek to their home on foot, she longed for space to mull it all over, and the place calling her right now was Nasnana’s.

  She kept pace with her father. “I’d like to go visit Nasnana and Sadzi, if that’s all right with you.”

  Her father turned to her and patted her shoulder, his breath visible in little puffs. “That would be fine. We will definitely need their help preparing the newcomers for the next winter. Would you mind asking them for their assistance?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “I wonder if it would be prudent to move my clinic closer to the train. It would take a bit of effort, but maybe we should think of moving the cabin as well.”

  Gwyn wasn’t sure she liked the direction her father’s thoughts were taking. Change, change, change. Too much change. She felt her forehead crease with a frown.

  Father turned back to her. “Goodness, there I go again. Don’t mind me, Gwyn. You know how I think ahead. Don’t worry about all that right now. It will all come in time.” He gripped her shoulders and squeezed. “I need to write a letter, so I will be in my office.”

  Standing on tiptoe, she nodded and kissed her father’s cheek before heading to her friends’ home.

  The s
olitude of the woods gave Gwyn the time she needed to corral her thoughts. The thick blanket of snow muted her steps. All was quiet. And peaceful. But how long would it stay that way? Her native friends would understand her feelings better than anyone.

  How could she love the Lord, love people, love Alaska, and want to share it, and then not want to share it all at the same time? Her special little world seemed to be crumbling around her. Was she really that selfish?

  Gwyn stopped in her tracks. Is that what had happened? Had she become selfish and uncaring? The thought horrified her—because those were traits she equated with her mother. Even though she loved the woman and still longed to know her mother’s love in return, Gwyn had no desire to be like her. At all.

  She crested a hill and poked her head through the trees. There in the distance, across the shining water of the Knik Arm, lay Susitna. The beautiful mountain rose up seemingly out of the water to bask in the sun’s brief winter rays. The Sleeping Lady.

  If only Gwyn could be like the native legend and lie down to sleep one day. She could become a lush mountain and remain the same while the world changed around her. One day, Gwyn wanted to see if she could hike to the lovely lady and picnic at her base. But the legend behind the beloved mountain wasn’t real. The changes to come were.

  Soft munching to her right brought Gwyn’s attention back to the moment. She smiled as she watched a young moose about twenty feet away stretch his neck to reach a shrub covered in snow. She giggled at his antics, but then mama moose appeared and stared straight at Gwyn. Time to move on.

  It would have been smarter to grab her snowshoes before she headed this way, but she didn’t mind the deep snow that slowed her steps—it gave her more time to think. How could she share all that was on her heart? Would the changes to come alter their relationships as well?

  Sadzi greeted her outside the small cabin as she approached. Her friend’s long black braid swung back and forth as Sadzi waved and then wrapped Gwyn in a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you! Are you back from the meeting? What did they say?” Sadzi grabbed her hand and dragged her to the door.

  Gwyn laughed in response. The only thing that could break through her barriers was one of Sadzi’s hugs. They’d first met on Gwyn’s sixth birthday. As the young native girl hugged Gwyn and played with her curly blond hair, she announced her birthday was the same day. Only she was a year younger. The two were fascinated with each other and had been best friends ever since. Gwyn always felt alive and real when she was with these precious people. “Yes, I have a lot of news. And I’m afraid it’s a little scary.”

  Nasnana appeared at the entryway, dish towel in one hand, iron skillet in the other. “The one scary thing on this earth is not knowing where you will spend eternity.” She pointed the skillet at Gwyn. “The rest is just worry. And worry—”

  “—is a sin.”

  “—is a sin.”

  Gwyn and Sadzi laughed as they chimed in together and followed the older woman back into the house.

  “Ah, so you have been listening to this old woman after all.”

  “Only for the past sixteen years.” Gwyn hugged the woman who’d been the only grandmother she’d ever known.

  Sadzi went to the stove. “Tea?”

  “Yes, please.” Gwyn twisted her hands again and sat in a chair.

  Nasnana sat next to her. “Now, what is this news?”

  Two weathered hands covered Gwyn’s. Taking a deep breath, she decided to just plunge in with every detail, starting from the time they waited in the large room of the government lodge up to the end of the train ride.

  After she’d spilled out every fact and word she could remember, she watched her friends. Sadzi’s eyes glowed—her excitement and anticipation palpable in the small room—while Nasnana’s smile grew.

  “Well?” Gwyn glanced from Sadzi to her grandmother. “What do you think?”

  The crinkled lines around Nasnana’s eyes increased. “I think this is exciting news. We all love this land, and God is using it as a way to rescue others from poverty and death.”

  Sadzi bounced on her toes in the kitchen. “And just think of all the fun we’ll have teaching everyone about salmon and berries, and there will be children! Won’t it be fun to have little feet around here? We can make cookies, and fireweed honey, and jellies . . .” Gwyn’s friend twirled around the kitchen as she continued her list.

  Nasnana gripped Gwyn’s chin in her hand, forcing Gwyn to look at her. “You are afraid, precious one—I see it in your eyes. But there is no need to fear.”

  Before she could stop them, tears sprang into Gwyn’s eyes. Their valley would change. “Oh, but there is . . .”

  2

  FEBRUARY 24, 1935

  CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

  “You are hereby stripped of your medical license.” The board chairman slammed his gavel down on the solid table as whispers permeated the room.

  Jeremiah Vaughan swallowed. His worst fear had just come true. He straightened his shoulders, waiting for the chairman to continue.

  “Your use of the new intravenous anesthesia without the consent of Mr. Brewster, and your reckless abandon have proven your ineptitude in the surgical arena—”

  “Chairman, the patient’s wounds were fatal. I was just trying—”

  “Do not interrupt me, young man. We’ve all heard the facts of this unfortunate case. The decision is final.” The chairman stood.

  Feet shuffled. Papers rustled. For a brief moment, time stood still. Then everything sped up and blurred around him in the cacophony of voices and the pounding pulse in his head. Jeremiah turned to pick up his medical bag and several flashbulbs blinded him. Reporters. He was sure to be in every paper in the city in the coming days.

  Pushed and shoved and interrogated as he made his way out of the building, Jeremiah took one last look back. Everything was gone with that final bang of the gavel. The new hospital. The hospital he was supposed to be heading up. All the years of training and the horrific hours he’d invested. All the people he’d fought to save.

  All gone. In an instant. His dreams were dead now. He wasn’t allowed to practice medicine anymore. At least not legally. What would he tell Sophia?

  Thoughts of his beautiful fiancée shut out all the questions around him. Sophia Hillerman. Their wedding was to be the society event of the year. He’d just turned thirty-four, and he would be a distinguished hospital head, and she would be his bride.

  But not anymore. All of that would change.

  He’d better speak with her before she heard the news. She would be devastated, of course, but maybe they could start fresh in a new city. Maybe there was a way he could fight the medical board’s decision. With Sophia at his side all would be right again. They shared such wonderful dreams.

  Hope welled within him. Sophia’s beautiful face and tender smile would surely heal his wounds.

  He picked up his pace and headed to the historic mansion where Sophia lived with her mother and grandparents. The lavish wrought-iron gate opened to what would be a beautiful garden come spring. He took the front steps two at a time and knocked.

  Leonard, the butler, opened the door and stepped to the side, his face grim.

  “Good evening, Leonard. I’m here to see—”

  “We know why you’re here.” Mrs. Hillerman’s smooth voice echoed off the marble foyer around the silent butler. “It’s best we speak privately in the parlor.” She turned on her heel and headed to the first room on her right.

  He nodded.

  Leonard stood rigid, neither offering to take his coat nor acknowledging his presence at all. His future mother-in-law, who had always greeted him with such grace, often taking hold of his arm as they walked together, continued to walk away. Tonight, her cold demeanor and stiff gait sent a chill up his spine.

  A sense of dread built in the pit of his stomach. Impending doom. Like the last nail in a coffin. The air around him threatened to suffocate him. Hadn’t it already been a bad enough day? Maybe his
imagination just ran wild.

  His fiancée sat on the couch by the window. Mrs. Hillerman headed straight for Sophia and stood behind her. Sophia looked away from him. Her red-rimmed eyes and furrowed brow weren’t much of an encouragement.

  He loosened his collar. “I’m afraid I don’t have very good news to share with you.” Jeremiah held his hat in his hand.

  Mrs. Hillerman’s icy voice crushed the last shred of hope in his heart. “Mr. Brewster’s secretary has already called to inform us of your action and the board’s subsequent decision.” She pointed her manicured finger at him. “How dare you drag my daughter down with you! I warned her of your type. You doctors. Always so selfish, so—”

  “Mother, please.” Sophia looked down and then straight into his eyes, her expression full of animosity.

  In that moment, all the warmth seemed to leave his limbs. His heart constricted. Warning bells went off in his brain.

  “You’ve ruined everything, Jeremiah. Everything. And now you’ve tarnished my name and my family’s name along with yours. I can’t believe you would embarrass me in such a ghastly manner. It is totally unacceptable for someone of my station.” She reached up, locking her hand with her mother’s. “We’ve already called the papers to announce that the engagement is off.”

  Jeremiah tried to swallow his shock. Who was this callous woman in front of him? Was it Sophia? The woman he loved? The one he wanted by his side? The unmistakable truth pierced his heart—she hated him. The haughty look on her face spoke volumes. This woman never cared about him. “Sophia . . .” He turned to his future mother-in-law. “Mrs. Hillerman, would you excuse us for a few moments?”