Hidden History (6 page)
Authors: Melody Carlson
Clara nodded. “Yes, she’s a darling.”
“Have a good day,” said Alice and continued her walk toward Vera’s house. Alice smiled to herself. Not only did she have freshly made sugar cookies for Vera, but she also had an interesting story to share.
The two friends sat on the sofa in Vera’s living room and laughed over Daisy.
“A real live pig?” asked Vera.
“Yes. I saw it with my own eyes,” said Alice. “Her name is Daisy and she’s actually sort of cute. She’s much smaller than I expected. Although Jane says they can grow to be hundreds of pounds.”
“My word!” Vera laughed again and shook her head. “Well, your visit is making me feel better, Alice. I was feeling pretty blue before you got here.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Vera. People often get a little depressed
when they’re ill. Believe me, I see it every day at the hospital. I’m sure you’ll be back to yourself in no time.”
“I hope so. I’ve already missed three days of school. That’s more than I’ve missed in the last three years. And here we are only starting the term.” Vera shook her head. “It’s hard on the kids having a substitute this soon.”
“Well, there’s nothing you can do about that. Try not to think about it and just take it easy.”
“That’s about all I can do,” said Vera. She held up a book. “Fred brought me this new novel that I’ve been wanting to read, but I barely make it through a single page before I fall asleep again.”
Alice patted Vera’s hand. “Resting may be your best medicine right now. And for that reason, I’m going to leave you to it. May I get you anything first?”
“You already got me juice and tea, Alice. I think I’ll be perfectly fine until Fred gets home.”
“I’ll be praying for you, Vera,” promised Alice.
“Thanks.” Vera looked up with sad eyes. “I appreciate it.”
Walking toward home, Alice prayed for her dear friend. She asked God to comfort her and give her rest and help her to get well. When she got home, she found her sisters and several of the guests gathered on the front porch, enjoying tea or lemonade and sugar cookies.
“Come join us,” called Jane.
“I met Clara Horn’s baby,” announced Alice as Jane poured her a cup of tea.
Jane began giggling, and Louise quickly explained to the guests what was so amusing about this little bit of news.
“Tell us about it,” urged Mrs. Miller.
“Well, the piglet’s name is Daisy. She’s about seven weeks old, drinks from a baby bottle and wears a baby bonnet. Oh yes, and she was being transported in a baby carriage. It was really rather sweet.”
“It will not be so sweet when the piglet grows up into a great big hog,” said Louise.
“I saw a special about those pigs on TV once,” said Mrs. Miller. “They were having a hard time finding homes for them when they grew too big to be house pets.”
“Poor Clara,” said Alice. “She really seems to love Daisy.”
“I hope she does not get too attached,” said Louise. “According to Aunt Ethel, Mayor Tynan will be looking into the town ordinances before long.”
“Oh, you people and your small-town politics,” said Mr. Miller. “Something like this wouldn’t cause anyone to even bat an eyelash where we live.”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Mrs. Miller. “How would you like it if our neighbors had a three-hundred-pound pig? I’ll bet you wouldn’t waste a minute before you’d be calling the authorities and complaining.”
“Only if it became a nuisance,” he defended himself. “I say, live and let live.”
Jane chuckled. “That’s not how it works in a small town. People really get involved in other people’s business here. You should’ve seen what we went through just to renovate our family home into this inn.”
“Really?” Mrs. Miller looked surprised. “This is such a lovely place. I can’t imagine how anyone could’ve protested.”
Jane launched into stories of some of the crazy battles that the sisters had to fight just to get the townspeople on board.
“But the town came through for us in the end,” Alice said. “When it looked impossible to get our roof fixed, everyone in town pitched in and helped out. We wouldn’t be open today if they hadn’t. You see, the people here are really very generous and good-hearted. It’s just that they can be a hard sell sometimes, but when they’re convinced, then you couldn’t ask for better neighbors.”
“Well, we can’t always say that about where we live,” said Mr. Miller. “Fact of the matter is we don’t even know most of our neighbors.”
“We used to,” said Mrs. Miller sadly. “Then old friends started moving out and new folks moved in. Well, it just got hard to keep track.”
“I suppose we quit trying,” added her husband.
“Maybe we should give it another shot,” said Mrs. Miller. “I noticed that the new folks on the right have a new baby. And the woman was hanging what looked like a handmade quilt on the clothesline.”
“You said how you love to quilt,” said Louise, pointing to the bag of fabric that Mrs. Miller had purchased at Sylvia’s Buttons that day.
“Yes, mentioning the quilt would be a perfect way to start a conversation,” said Mrs. Miller. She smiled and nodded her head. “Yes, I think that’s just what I’ll do when I get back home. You ladies and your friendly little community have inspired me.”
Alice smiled. “That’s one of my prayers for each of our guests.”
Then Mr. Miller pointed toward the plaque that hung by the front door. “We liked what your sign says.” Then he proceeded to read it aloud. “A place where one can be refreshed and encouraged. A place of hope and healing. A place where God is at home.”
“That’s nice,” said Mrs. Miller. “By the way, we noticed that the little church over there has the same name as your inn. Why is that?”
Louise told them a bit about their father and the church, and Alice invited them to join them for the next day’s worship service.
“We haven’t been to church since the children were small,” admitted Mrs. Miller. “I’d like to go tomorrow.” She glanced at her husband and he was nodding.
A
ll was quiet at the inn when Louise, Jane and Alice met in the library to continue reading from their father’s journal. Alice had brewed a pot of orange pekoe tea and had arranged pot and cups on a large silver tray on their father’s old mahogany desk.
“Do you want me to continue reading?” asked Alice. “Just because I found the journal doesn’t mean that I should be the only one to read. We could take turns.”
“I think you have a fine reading voice,” said Louise. “If Jane has no objections, I would like you to be the official reader.”
“So would I,” said Jane. “That is, if you don’t mind, Alice.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all. I love reading Father’s words.”
Jane pulled out the big leather chair and smiled. “Well, if you’re doing the honors, it seems only fitting that you sit in his chair.”
Alice was self-conscious about being the center of attention. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she sat down
and put on her reading glasses. “Okay, I think this is where we left off, right after the part about occasionally imbibing bootleg liquor.” She cleared her throat and began to read.
… Although I am not certain that this latter habit is common knowledge throughout our small community. For if it were, I am sure my father would be fined for breaking the laws of prohibition, or more likely, thrown in jail since he has no money to pay fines. Would I feel bad if my father were locked up in jail? I am not sure how to answer that question honestly. I realize that my father does provide for us in what I would describe as a random manner. He does put in his crops and, weather permitting, harvests them, but if it were not for my mother’s gardening and canning abilities, my fishing skills and the kindness of neighbors, I know we would go hungry more than we do. I should not complain about eating since it is really much better now that all my older siblings have moved on, although I know my father misses the extra farmhands. I miss them too, but not so much for their sturdy backs as for their companionship. I wish they would come back home to visit occasionally, although I know they probably will not, since they have not done so yet. I think I miss my sister Alice most of—
“I had almost forgotten about Aunt Alice,” said Louise as she poured each of them a cup of hot tea. “Do you remember meeting her, Alice, back when we were little girls? She and her husband came to visit for a few days one summer.”
Alice nodded. “Yes. She seemed quite old at the time, but I think it was only because she’d had a hard life. If memory serves, she was only a few years older than Father.”
“That is right.” Louise handed Alice a cup of tea. “There were four others who were older than Aunt Alice.”
“I know that Father came from a large farm family,” said Jane. “But I never really thought much about his siblings, since I never met any of them—except for Aunt Ethel.”
“Aunt Alice, Father and Aunt Ethel were the youngest,” said Alice. “There were three other brothers and one sister. Of course, all but Aunt Ethel passed on long ago. Let’s see, as I recall, John was the oldest, and I think he lived in Michigan. Then came Martha, who died of typhoid as a child. Then there was Charles. He moved somewhere down south where his wife’s family lived—South Carolina, I think. And, of course, there was Dad’s favorite brother, Adam.”
“Was he the one who died in World War I?” asked Jane. “I remember Father mentioning him in sermons a few times.”
Alice nodded. “Yes, that was Adam, the brother who taught Father to fish. Father loved him dearly.”
“Alice, I officially nominate you to be family historian,” said Louise. “I cannot believe you got all those names and the birth order straight. Will you write that down somewhere so we can keep track of it?”
“Of course. I better do it before my memory begins to fade.”
“That is a good idea, but I want to hear more of the journal. Please keep on reading,” urged Jane.
Alice picked up where she had left off.
… I miss my sister Alice most of all, but I wish her well with her new husband Asher. He seems like a good man and he holds down a steady job. I just wish they did not live so far away, but maybe it is for the best. Alice and my father never got along well. I am sure that was only because she spoke her mind to him. She did not appreciate his treatment of our mother, nor do I, and she was always quick to stand up for me when it came to my education. Every time my father decided it was time for me to quit school and work on the farm, it was Alice who opposed the idea. I suppose that is why this year has been so much harder. With Alice gone, I am forced to fight my own battles with my father. My mother is a good woman, but she is intimidated by my father. I have only seen
her stand up to him once, when I was a small boy, and that did not go well. I believe she is worn down and weary from living with such a cantankerous man. The light in her eyes seems to be mostly snuffed out now. Although I see it flicker ever so slightly when she sees me come into the room or when she is reading her Bible. Other than those two things, I cannot see even the tiniest bit of joy in her life.
“That poor woman,” said Jane. “To think of what she had to put up with after having all those children, and losing two.”
“Very sad.” Louise shook her head.
Sometimes I dream of leaving this place and taking Mother with me. Other than hurt pride, I do not think my father would miss us very much. In my dream we wait until he goes off with friends since we know that means he may not be back for hours or even days. Then we pack everything we can fit into my mother’s big garden cart and we slip away without even leaving him a note. We walk and camp until we reach another town where I go to work and earn enough money to support us. I am certain that we could live together quite happily. I think, in time, the light would come back into Mother’s
eyes. To support this dream, I am saving as much money as I can from my job at the newspaper. I have worked my way up from delivery boy to janitor, but only being able to work for a few hours after school each day does not pay very much. I suppose I will have to give up school entirely after Mother and I run away from here. Perhaps that will make my father happy.