Read Hidden History Online

Authors: Melody Carlson

Hidden History (16 page)

Louise poured tea for the three of them while Alice found the place she had marked a week ago. “Here we are. Grandma Howard had just died and father had written her obituary.”

“Oh, please read it again, Alice,” begged Jane.

“Yes,” agreed Louise. “It was so sweet.”

And so Alice read the obituary again, then moved on to the next journal entry, written about a week later.

January 4, 1926. Alice and Asher went home before the New Year and I was saddened to see them go. However, I did feel encouraged when Alice told me that I might come live with them if things ever become too difficult for me at home. Naturally, she did not say this in front of my father, and she said it very politely, but I knew exactly what she meant. She meant if my father becamme impossible to live with. I watched Asher’s face as she made this kind offer to me, and I was not entirely convinced that he was in complete agreement. However, he said nothing. Still, it creates a small doubt in my mind. For the truth is, I would rather be unhappy in my father’s house than to disrupt my sister’s happy home with the added responsibility of my presence. I know that they are struggling to make ends meet just now. Asher makes very little working at a shoe store, but he is also studying to be an accountant. “To better himself” is how Alice puts it. Still, I promised my dear sister that I would keep her generous offer in mind.

What surprises me is that my father has been quite easy to get along with of late. I am not sure if this is because he feels saddened by my mother’s death, or perhaps a bit guilty that he did not do more to save her, or maybe he is relieved that she is gone. I cannot bear to think it might be the latter and have determined that I must push such negative thoughts from my mind. In the meantime, I shall try to make the most of this quiet on the home front. I shall try not to aggravate my father and to do my chores quickly and without complaint. My goal is to maintain my high marks in school and somehow secure my escape from here in the furtherance of my education. Mr. Dolton says “education is the key to a brighter future.” In fact, he has this statement posted right above the blackboard. I am sure he must know what he is talking about, too, since his life seems bright and rewarding to me. Mr. Dolton has a pretty wife who is also a teacher. They have no children and when I asked him about this once, he just laughed and said, “Look at how many children God has blessed us with at this school.” Sometimes I wish that Mr. and Mrs. Dolton could adopt me, but I know this is nothing more than a silly dream. For one
thing, I am probably too old, but beyond that I am fairly certain that children cannot be adopted if their parents are living. And although my father has not much of a life, he is still alive.

But, oh, how I miss my mother. If I knew how to pray or if I believed in God I would demand to know why he took her away from me. I would shake my fist in his face and ask him, why? Why? Why?

“Poor Father,” said Jane.

“What a lonely life.” Louise set her knitting aside.

Alice reached for her teacup. “But do you see something? I think he’s changing. I think he’s beginning to search for God.”

“I suppose,” said Louise. “But he does not sound very hopeful about it.”

“But that’s the perfect place to start,” insisted Alice. “When you’re in despair, the only place to look is up.”

“That is the reassuring part,” said Louise. “We know that Father does figure things out, ultimately. I just never realized he had to pass through such darkness and tragedy to get there.”

“You know I thought of something the other day,” said Jane. “I suppose it’s obvious, but I’d never considered it before.”

“What’s that?” asked Alice.

“Well, obviously Aunt Ethel and Father were only half-sister and brother.”

Alice nodded with realization. “I hadn’t thought about that either, but you’re right. Ethel wasn’t born when Father’s mother died.”

“Interesting,” said Louise. “I do not recall ever hearing either Father or Aunt Ethel mentioning that. Do you think she knows?”

“Oh, she must,” said Alice. “But we should agree to keep quiet about this. Especially since Father never mentioned anything.”

“Do we have time to read another one?” asked Jane.

“I don’t see why not,” said Alice as she reopened the book and adjusted her reading glasses.

February 20, 1926. I turned sixteen yesterday. It feels like a big step from fifteen and I suspect I should begin to act more like a man. Of course, no one acknowledged this milestone. My father has never kept track of such insignificant things as birthdays. It was always my mother who would commemorate such events. She would usually make me a small cake and present me with a homemade gift like socks or a shirt, and for that reason the day would feel special.
Mostly I tried not to think of such things yesterday. Fortunately, for me, today was much brighter. Mr. Dolton asked me to stay after school. Naturally, I was worried. I did not recall doing anything wrong. I have found after years of being picked on for being “different” it is best to keep a low profile at school. I try to mind my own business and stay out of trouble. It seems to help that I have been growing like a weed lately. I am taller than my father as well as most of the boys in my class. Unfortunately, my trousers are unable to keep up, or perhaps I should say down. They have been let down as far as they can go and they still only hit just above my ankles. But back to Mr. Dolton. I walked down the quiet halls to his classroom feeling nervous and afraid that something was wrong. Was it possible that my father had paid the school a visit and threatened to make trouble? I have not seen my father for a couple of days and I feel certain he is up to no good. But Mr. Dolton was smiling when I walked in. He reached out and shook my hand and asked me to have a seat. “Your high marks and fine schoolwork have come to the attention of Mr. Brant, Daniel,” he told me. “As a result he is recommending you for the Thornton Scholarship.” I have
heard of that scholarship before, but I did not know it was a complete four-year scholarship. “But it is a little early,” I said. “I still have two more years of high school left.” As it turns out this is exactly what Mr. Dolton wanted to speak to me about. “I know that your father is resistant to your continued schooling,” he told me. “And you are far advanced for your class. We could easily move you into the junior class, Daniel. Of course, you would need to pass a few tests, but we have no doubts that this will pose any problem for you. What do you think?” I told him I thought it was a grand idea. “The only problem is that we need your father to agree to this,” he finally said. “Do you think he can be persuaded?” I considered this, and then promised Mr. Dolton that I would give it my best try. “I will be praying for you,” said Mr. Dolton as he shook my hand again. I wanted to ask him if he really believed his prayers would make any difference, but at the same time did not want to offend the good man.

I think I was relieved to find that my father was still gone when I got home this evening. I took care of the chores, cleaned the house, cooked some supper and did my homework. Still, my father did not come
home. I paced back and forth across the wooden floor in front of the fireplace, trying to come up with an ingenious way to present this new idea to my father, but came up with nothing. I noticed my mother’s old worn Bible sitting by her favorite chair next to the fireplace, and I actually bent down to pick it up. I stood there for a long time just staring at it as I considered reading it. Yet I resisted this unexplainable urge. My only question now is where did that urge come from?

“See,” said Alice triumphantly as she closed the journal. “He is getting closer and closer to calling out to God.”

“It’s interesting,” said Jane. “I never thought that Father and I were much alike or had much in common. Oh, I always knew he loved me dearly, and of course I loved him too. But I had always assumed that Father was born a godly man.” She smiled. “There is something so reassuring about hearing that he too had to struggle to find his faith.”

“I wonder why he never shared this with us,” said Louise.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” said Alice. “And I think I’ve come up with a reason.”

“What?” said Louise and Jane simultaneously.

“I think he may have been trying to protect us.”

“From what?” asked Jane.

“Well, we lost our mother when we were at the age when he might have started explaining a bit more about his sad past and family history. Since we were trying to recover from our own tragedy, perhaps he felt it would have been too much for us.”

Louise nodded. “Yes, that makes sense. I do recall his using illustrations in his sermons that I now realize probably came from his own life.”

“I’m so glad you unearthed that journal,” said Jane. “It gives us a view of Father that we would never have had without it.”

Chapter Fourteen

T
here’s something in the mail for you, Alice,” said Jane as she came back into the kitchen. She waved a small envelope as though it were a flag.

Alice dried her hands on a dishtowel and reached for the letter. “It’s not such a big deal, Jane, I do get mail occasionally.”

“Not like this one.” Jane smiled mysteriously.

Alice looked at the return address and saw that it was from Mark Graves, but said nothing, and just tucked it into the pocket of her sweater.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” asked Jane. “Yes.” Alice smiled at her and then returned to loading the dishwasher.

Jane rolled her eyes, then went back to her baking project. “Don’t you want to know what he said, Alice?”

“Yes,” said Alice as she loaded the last plate.

“Well?” Jane dumped another cup of flour into the bowl.

“Anything else you need help with in here?” asked Alice. “Yes, I need help getting a certain sister to open up
to me.”

Alice patted Jane on the back. “If I had anything to say, you know that I would say it, Jane. It’s just that you’re blowing this all out of proportion.”

“But he’s your old beau, Alice. He shows up out of the blue and you two seem to get along and now he’s writing you letters—”

“Letter,”
Alice corrected. “And it feels quite thin. It’s probably the vet bill for Clara Horn’s pig.”

“Oh, Alice.”

“Now, if there’s nothing more I can do for you, I promised to pay Vera a visit today.” 

“How is she?” asked Jane.

“It’s off and on. One day she is well enough to go to school and the next day she’s down.”

“And they still don’t know what it is?”

Alice shook her head. “Vera feels certain it’s cancer.”

“Oh no. Didn’t her mother die of cancer?” asked Jane.

“Yes. And an aunt.”

“Well, it does run in families. I read an article the other day about a very rare cancer that is easily missed in tests.” She paused to think. “I may still have the magazine. Do you want me to go look for it?”

“Yes, when you have a moment. It may be a shot in the dark, but I’ll read it to see if the symptoms sound
like hers.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you like to give her some of that ginger marmalade that I made yesterday?”

“That’s a great idea, Jane. Ginger is good for digestion, and that seems to be one of Vera’s biggest problems lately. She’s lost about ten pounds since this started.”

“Not a fun way to lose weight.”

When Alice arrived at Vera’s, she found her friend despondent. Vera had no interest in Jane’s ginger marmalade or much else for that matter. Alice tried to get her to work on the braided rug with her, but Vera declined.

“It’s your day off, Alice,” Vera finally said after Alice unsuccessfully attempted to engage her in conversation. “Don’t stick around here with me. I know I’m depressing.”

“You’re not depressing, Vera,” said Alice as she set a fresh cup of herbal tea next to Vera. “But I do think you’re depressed.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” said Vera in a flat voice.

Other books

Scorched Edges by L.M. Somerton
Aunt Dimity's Death by Nancy Atherton
To Catch a Queen by Shanna Swendson
THE WARLORD by Elizabeth Elliott
Preston Falls : a novel by Gates, David, 1947-
Aurora in Four Voices by Catherine Asaro, Steven H Silver, Joe Bergeron