Gwyneth lifted her brows when he merely set the tome upon the floor and bent down to examine the outside of her trunk, one hand still within it. “What is it?”
Rather than answer her, he tipped the thing backward a few inches and ran his hand along the underside. Dropping it back to the floor, he turned to her. “Do you realize this has a false bottom? There must be a compartment under the main one, though there are certainly no drawers.”
“A hidden compartment? But…” Her eyes went wide as Mrs. Wesley’s words drifted back to her. Our trunks have a hidden drawer for to keep it. You’ve no worries, love. “Oh, I am a dunce! Mrs. Wesley mentioned that their trunks had such a thing, but I never even thought to look for one in mine. Perhaps that is where Papa put a letter to me.”
And had the Wesleys not left before she thought to even wonder about a letter, they surely could have reminded her of that.
Thad glanced at the trunk again and then at the clock. “I would help you with it, but—”
“I know.” She tossed aside the bedclothes and hopped out, too excited now for lounging. “You must hurry, Thad. I will see if I can get it, and if not, you can help me after evening drills. It has waited this long.”
“I suppose so.” He drew her close, kissed her once more, and then headed for the door. “Ten o’clock at the bank.” Pausing with a crooked grin, he made the sign for I love you.
She repeated the gesture. Wished, as he hovered one moment longer, that every instant could be as sweet. Then he straightened out his smile and slipped through the door.
It clicked shut behind him, and Gwyneth turned slowly toward her trunk. Anticipation gnawed at her stomach at the thought that somewhere in the bottom of it could rest words written in her father’s hand. Something to help them make sense of Uncle Gates’s role in this war, of what he had intended Thad to do other than keep her safe.
But she had gone through the trunk time and again. It had sat empty for months, but for a few art supplies, and when she got those out she had never once noticed anything unusual in the bottom. No latches or catches or hinges. How, then, was she to discover the secrets it held, short of breaking the thing open? And she couldn’t do that either, lest such violence injure whatever might wait within.
She would be reasonable and go about this logically. Still, her hands shook as she picked up her Bible from the floor. The familiar leather under her fingers spoke reassurance into her heart. This would be her first step—spending time with the Lord and asking for His guidance. She settled back on the bed and opened the book to where she had left off two days before, in the fifth chapter of Ephesians. Hard as it was to keep her mind focused, she read and reread until the words penetrated.
Ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: walk as children of light…See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil.
Her eyes slid closed. Oh, how long she had been in darkness, living with it always a veil over her eyes. Clouding her memory and making a mystery of what ought to be clear. Fear, always fear at her heels. But her Lord and Savior had made a light of her. He reflected His own brilliance off the mirror of her being, and now she need only point herself where He wanted her to shine.
And that last bit—these days were certainly evil. War and hatred, vengeance and greed at every turn. Did the Lord really expect them to redeem the times? What a humbling thought. That the redemption of an entire generation rested on those who were faithful to Him. That without them, there would be no redemption.
“Help me, my Lord and my God,” she whispered into the still morning. “Help me to walk circumspectly, to be wise. To be in this world what You want me to be. And help me, please, to find my father’s wisdom.”
Her first step was to dress, her next to find places in Thad’s wardrobe for all of her belongings. He had made space for her, but there had been no time yesterday to fill them. Now she straightened and arranged, trying to make her things at home without displacing his. That done, she turned to the trunk.
She ran her hands all along the exterior, the interior, the bottom and sides. Nothing. She tried poking and prodding each piece of metal to no avail. She turned it this way and that, tried the key at half and quarter turns, and stood up with a huff, glad that Rosie chose that moment to call her down to breakfast. The elder Lanes had already left for the day to do what they could in the city, so she stewed over her solitary meal, Rosie too busy in the kitchen to join her.