Secret of Little Bear Creek: Book one of the Secret series, #1

By Thomas Matthews

Hannah Bradley watches her father lowered into the earth, her family at her side. She tries to find some sadness for her loss, but cannot. None of her three brothers are moved either. Something was terribly wrong with their upbringing. What follows is a heart-wrenching evolution while she struggles with their past, a tumultuous present, and a desperate future. To find herself, she must journey to Alabama in search of the roots of her father's unspoken history. What she discovers forces her to face her own demons and a soul-releasing revelation deep in a dark family legacy.

 

Praise for Little Bear Creek:
Don Houts - Men Reading Book Blog Review: "Secret of Little Bear Creek: As inferred by the title, it's the three-generational story of pain and escape. After a dramatic incident, Hannah Bradley attempts to track her family history as a means of understanding. Her therapist suggests she take a journey to discover her family's origins . To find out why her Grandfather abruptly moved the family to Michigan, then her father migrating to California, completely cutting himself off from the family he left behind. As a psychiatrist, I thought this story captured exactly what I do with patients during a psychic archaeological dig. The goal is not to find someone to blame, but to see patterns in the past so those patterns can be recognized in the present – and then managed differently. Matthews's insights are remarkable!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Matthews
• Release date: Jan 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201119614

Book preview

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Little Bear Creek is an actual place, or was, until flooded

to create Little Bear reservoir. To look out across the vast,

flat water, I imagine the remnants of my Father’s past,

sleeping below the surface.

~ TKM ~

PAST ~

Birmingham, Alabama – 1942

Steam roiled from the idling locomotive, waiting to leave Alabama. While passengers huddled on the platform, August fulfilled her promise of a sweltering farewell. The wood-sided, faded train station looked tired in the sweltering sun as The Bradley family climbed aboard. Robert sat by the window, surrounded by his seven siblings. Each wore an array of expressions, from expectation to fear. His family had never come close to boarding a train before, let alone riding one from Alabama to Michigan. Robert’s younger sister, Sarah, hid her face in her mother’s arm and wept.

Hush! His father barked. Not a sound.

Harley? His mother whispered. Ain’t Mr. Cunningham gonna’ come after us for runnin’ out on our contract?

That man will never find us, ‘specially out of state, he said.

But som’a what you sold t’get these tickets was his, she whispered. That’s stealin’, and some of it was pretty ‘spensive.

Harley hissed back, That man was neva’ fair on the deal we struck. Anythin’ I sold, and any cash I took was due me. ‘Specially for the likes a’ his kind.

I’m just worried, she said.

Worryin’ ’bout nothing, he said.

Robert touched his bruised cheek, his hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage. He took some pride in that his father also wore bruises from their fight. Having worked with his father in the fields for two years, Robert was strong enough to fight back.

When each child reached the age of ten, they toiled alongside their father. Of the eight children, five boys and three girls, Robert stood tallest of his siblings. His younger brother, Matthew, was already proving to be a large specimen, even at the tender age of four. Matthew and his twin sister, Sarah, would be the only members of the brood to escape cotton-picking.

But what about the law? His mother asked.

I didn’t do nuthin’ that any God-fearin’ man wouldn’t do to protect his family. Dammit, Liz, I said to shut the hell up about that. They ain’t gonna come up North ’bout anythin’ like that. Stop yer fussin’.

Elizabeth knew better than to push, so she set a tight lip and prayed the train would hurry up and leave.

Daddy? Sarah asked quietly. When we goin?

When the train’s good an’ ready. You best be happy we ain’t drivin’ north like them other fools. Two days on the road to Detroit with a buncha’ screamin’ kids. No suh.

More passengers climbed aboard the crowded train. Robert’s mother nodded to a woman she knew from church. Robert looked at the others on board. Flies settled on heads and faces, then shooed away by waving hands.

In the car ahead, Folks wore fine shirts and clean hats. Folks with money. The multitude in their car looked ragged and frayed. His mother did her best to make them look presentable, but there was nothing left for luxuries after purchasing the tickets. He took some solace because other families looked dirty and wore no shoes. She also insisted on baths for all and bought each child a pair of second-hand shoes - the first they ever owned. Robert felt a sense of pride in them, though they felt foreign on his feet.

We won’t be looked on as trash, she said.

The door between the cars opened, and a fat black porter in a dark uniform opened his frog-like mouth and called for tickets. He walked the aisle, punching the paper tickets and counting heads. Robert watched as the barefoot children looked nervous. The porter stopped and demanded their tickets, and the father feigned surprise.

I had ’em, he said and patted his dusty shirt. I swears I did. Had ’em right heah.

Suh, I need to see your tickets, the porter rumbled.

Now, just a minute. I paid good money fo’ my family to ride dis train. If’n I misplaced ’em, I’ll find ’em before we get whe’ headed.

Sorry, if you can’t show me tickets, I’ll haf’to ask you to get off now. We’re on a schedule.

Now, you jest–

Don’t make me call the bulls, the porter said.

Damn stealin’, unbelievin’ good-for-nuthin’ nigga! C’mon, let’s get off this dirty ol’ train.

Then the family hurried off while the rest of the travelers waved their tickets to be punched.

That was the Hendersons, Robert’s mother said.

Harley shook his head. That man neva’ did have no sense of pride. Besides, the likes of him wouldn’t do no good workin’ for General Motors.

How long will it take us to get to Michigan? Robert asked.

I told you, boy, hush!

The boy deserves an answer, dear, his mother said.

Till tomorra’ this time. Now, hush!

Minutes felt like hours, and some children began to cry. Everyone fidgeted. Sweat stains bloomed under every arm. When the whistle sounded and the locomotive lurched forward, a collective sigh went up.

Robert looked back at the platform and spied the Henderson’s standing in a tattered clump. An expression of longing and sadness replaced Mr. Henderson’s gruff attitude. As the train gained speed, his mother handed him an apple.

Don’t eat it all at once, she said. Gotta’ make that last.

He took a bite and watched the station and the platform slowly shrink in the yellow haze of the August air. Robert thought of the life they were leaving. He hoped this new life offered better. Despite that, some would be missed.

Harl? Elizabeth asked quietly.

What?

What if your cousin can’t get you a job? We’ll be –

I’ll get the job, he snapped.

But there’s so many. How’ll you–

They need men to work the factories. We gots ‘nuff money for a damn house, and I’ll get that damn job. This family won’t go hungry, and we won’t be on no street.

Daddy? But what if – Robert began.

Hush! His father raised his hand. Every child went still and silent as the dead.

Ya’ want another? His father warned. I don’t wanna’ hear nuthin’ ’til we get to Michigan.

Just you wait, Robert thought. Things will be different there.

The train lumbered along, the apple ignored in Robert’s hand. Every stop brought on more people, and soon the car was standing room only. The air became rank with perspiration.

Robert wished he could open a window. He hoped Michigan was a better place than Alabama. He prayed his father got the auto plant job, and it paid enough that they could all eat and be happy. If his father were happy, then maybe he’d be more kind.

As sharecroppers, they often went hungry. Now the future was like a cloud of doubt, and the past pursued them like a demon. Fear was always a part of their lives. His stomach growled, so he took another bite of the apple.

His mother said, Not alla’once. Save some. We gots a long way to go.

You best be happy for it, his father said. Remember what I always say.

Yes, daddy.

His father often reminded them.

You can’t eat cotton.

––––––––

PRESENT DAY ~

San Diego, California

Hannah MacAllister watched her father’s coffin lowered into the ground. Her husband, Kyle, looked stoic while her children looked agonizingly disinterested. Not that she blamed them. Evan, her eldest, knew his grandfather more as a business than an emotional relationship. He occasionally helped around his ranch for extra spending money. Her daughter, Gwen, knew him from awkward hugs and cash stuffed cards on Christmas and birthdays.

The divide between the generations was too broad to span and too cold to fathom. Hannah suspected her husband’s stone expression was more out of confusion than any other reason.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, the priest droned.

Hannah closed her eyes. That about summed it up. Ashes of the burned relationship built on forced respect, then later driven by sickness and need. Add the dust of a long-dead family that Hannah never knew. Nobody from her parent’s family attended. She tried, but she had no luck finding them. As far as she knew, all the Bradley’s were dead.

Hannah and her three brothers, each dumbfounded by lack of grief, stood struggling to understand the soul of the man who raised them. Her only sister, Rebecca, did not attend.

I have an audition, she said. It’s a great part. This could put me back on top.

Always the drama queen. The exact reason Beck became an actress. Experts say, to be happy in a vocation is to do what you know. Rebecca knew how to act like anybody but herself.

Just tell everyone I’ll be thinking of them, she said.

That made Hannah chuckle. Rebecca had one agenda, herself.

When the coffin hit the bottom of the grave, she and her brothers each tossed a single red rose into the hole. Hannah dropped another in Rebecca’s name. The soft fall of the flowers might have gone on forever into the dark and bottomless hole her father withered in. Parkinson’s disease slowly tore him down until he was no more than a fearful shell.

In the end, he struggled against padded restricting gloves, there to keep him from pulling out his IV. His illness had him in a state of trembling fury, his suppressed emotions spilling out in trapped, feral intensity. When he finally collapsed in surrender, he gave Hannah a vacant expression and uttered one sentence.

I want to go home.

She put her hand on his forehead and whispered, You are home, dad.

Where’s your mother?

Right here, she said.

He passed an hour later. Hannah felt sympathy and relief that her father was out of pain, but no grief or loss. When she signed the papers to release his body to the funeral home, she felt only relief.

Father Ward’s voice snapped her out of her reflection. His eyes and hands raised to the heavens, he called the congregation to join in his elation.

Now we offer Robert Lee Bradley to God and to rest beside his beloved Mary. Reunited in the kingdom of Heaven.

Hannah fought a smile.  Despite what these people thought, her father had been distant, brooding, and swift with the belt. Not with her or Beck, only the boys. Her mother, distracted by work, always looked the other way. That was where the money was. Her husband’s university salary would not suffice. Like Scarlett O’Hara, Hannah’s mother shook her fist at the sky and declared never to go without, whatever it was, again – no matter the cost.

Now, Hannah MacAllister, the oldest daughter, has some words to share, Father Ward said.

She stepped up and faced the crowd. Made up of her father’s former university colleagues, neighbors, and her mother’s business associates. They all shed tears for the man, the father, and the husband they believed him to be. Hannah gathered her false grief and addressed the crowd. These people were there to mourn a much different man than she knew.

Thank you all for coming out today. It is wonderful to see the faces of all who knew my father. Over the years, you’ve all shared how much you respected him, what a good man he was, and how lucky my siblings and I were to have him as a father. Those words offered comfort, and I know every one of you knew my dad in your own way.

She paused. At the back of the crowd, a woman stood with lowered eyes. Hannah knew her well. They all did. Ten years before, her father embroiled himself in an extramarital affair with her. Debra Henderson, another teacher at the college. Hannah’s mother put a stop to it with a call to Debra’s husband. Not another word was spoken, and life went on as it always had.

Hannah continued, My father was a great teacher and a very driven man. He prided himself on doing the best he could with what he had. He once said he’d been teaching in the same room at the same university with the same books for thirty years. Only the faces changed. Many former students told him, and us, that he was the best teacher they’d ever had. Even the best man they ever knew.

Because they didn’t know him, she thought.

Hannah finished by saying, Please join us in the reception area for some refreshments. There will be a receiving line, and we have asked that in place of flowers, donations be made to the South Marvin University Social Services. These donations will help underprivileged families. Thank you all for coming.

Then Hannah and her brothers, Otis, Leigh, and Hollis, shook each hand of the attending well-wishers. When the crying stopped, the noise shifted to the loud crashing of laughs and words, all fighting for attention.

Can you believe this shit? Otis yelled over the noise.

No, Hannah yelled back. I really can’t.

Leigh sauntered over with a plastic cup filled with what looked like Chardonnay. This is too much. These people actually liked this asshole. I don’t blame Beck for canceling.

Good old sis, Otis said. Remember Mom’s?

Oh yeah.

"After all her friends got done saying all those great things about her, I thought – this sounded like a wonderful woman, I wished I’d have met her. How many autographs do you think Beck sighed that day?"

Too many, Leigh said. And what about home-wrecker Debbie sobbing in the back?

Hannah nodded and said nothing.

Hollis maneuvered through the crowd carrying four opened, long neck beers. He handed each of them an ice-cold bottle.

To Dad, Hollis said. May Saint Peter stop him at the Pearly Gates and ask he explain it all.

To Dad, Hannah said. Then they clinked the bottles like musketeers with their swords. And now we get to split up the spoils of Mom’s obsessive nature.

By the way, Leigh said, Thank you for handling this.

Hey, what’re big sisters for?

You always were the protector, Otis said.

Hollis leaned in. How long we have to wait to divide the cash?

Hannah laughed. He’s barely cold, and you want to talk the sordid topic of coin?

Hey, it’ll come soon enough, Otis said. How much are we going to get after we sell that mausoleum of theirs?

You guys are unbelievable, Hannah said. But the house was appraised at one million six hundred thousand. No mortgage and no taxes.

Sweet, Hollis said. But, really, how long do we have to wait for the cash?

Thirty days, Hannah yelled over the rising voices. Be patient.

Easy for you to say, you’re the executor of the estate, Hollis said. How long do we have to hang around this farce?

Not long, she said. We have to be out of here in an hour.

Hannah’s phone buzzed. A text from her husband.

I have to go to rescue Kyle.

Ok, Hanny, Otis said.

Really? she said. I hated that name when I was twelve.

At least our loving parents didn’t name you after a toothless redneck, Otis said.

You don’t know Uncle Otis was toothless, Leigh teased.

We didn’t know Uncle Otis at all, Hollis said.

Of course not, Hannah said. "Dad would never have allowed it because he was a toothless redneck. Now I have to extract my family from this insanity."

She pushed her way through the milling crowd. Women called out to her, and men patted her shoulders. A large woman chattered at Kyle, oblivious to his aggravation. Hannah gave him a sympathetic smile. The noise sounded like a swarm of crazed savages in Hannah’s ears.

She finally reached Kyle. Had enough?

More than enough, he said.

I’ll make an excuse, she said. Head to the exit, and I’ll meet you in ten minutes.

In this crowd, that sounds like a lifetime.

Be right back. Hannah found the pastor. Excuse me. The emotion and the day got the best of me. My brothers will stay, but my family and I are leaving now. Thank you for the lovely service.

The pastor nodded and said, Your parents are in a better place. They are with God.

We can only hope, Hannah said and broke free. She found Evan talking with his cousin.

Hey, she said. Dad and I are going. Are you coming home, or do you want to stay and get a ride home with your uncles?

I’ll stay.

Where’s your sister?

He pointed. Gwen’s over there.

Be good.

She found her daughter standing with some other teens and looking bored. When she caught her mother’s eye, she came to meet her.

Dad and I are going. Staying or coming?

Oh God, coming with you.

The car ride home was a hysterical session of, could you believe that? and can you imagine?

Gwen laughed in the back seat while Kyle egged her on. Hannah laugh as they pulled into their driveway. Her phone rang. Rebecca.

Perfect timing, Hannah said. Probably calling to see if anybody asked about her. I’ll take it out here. You guys go in.

Say hello for me, Kyle teased.

After last year’s Christmas party? She’ll probably never talk to you again.

Kyle and Gwen headed in. Hannah tapped her phone. Hey, Beck. How’d the audition go?

Hannah, it’s Andrew. Rebecca’s boyfriend. His voice sounded weak.

Hello, Andrew. Is everything alright?

I, Andrew’s voice became rough with emotion. Hannah, I–

Andrew, what’s wrong?

Rebecca’s in the hospital.

What happened?

In a shaky voice he said, She came back from her audition. I could tell she was upset like when she doesn’t get a part. She went to take a shower. The water ran a long time, so I went to check on her.

What’s wrong?

I found her lying on the floor. She took a whole bottle of Valium. I called 911. She wasn’t breathing when they got here, but they were able to bring her back.

Hannah closed her eye. Jesus. Where is she now?

Cedar Sinai Hospital.

When did this happen?

An hour ago.

Just after we put Dad in the ground, she thought.

Okay, I’m coming up there. I’ll call you when I get close. Stay with her.

I will, he said sadly.

I’ll be there as soon as I can. Call as soon as you know who I need to talk to.

Okay.

Andrew? This isn’t your fault, Hannah said.

I–I know–

Are you okay? she asked gently.

I– He lost his voice in sobs. Hannah waited. I’m sorry.

Don’t be.

They won’t tell me anything because I’m not family.

Just stay there, Hannah said.

She hung up and stared at the front of the house. Rebecca did not try to kill herself because she didn’t get the role. She swallowed a bottle of pills because of too much hurt and pain. Pain caused when the last people who should have cared left her alone. Over the years, Beck stayed in touch with only her. In their conversations, she shared what her therapists said, what she felt, and often asked questions she hoped Hannah could answer.

You’re the oldest. You remember better than I do, she would say.

Yes, Rebecca, but you were his favorite, she reminded.

Then why was he the way he was with the boys? she nearly begged. Why didn’t Mom do anything to stop it? Why did he spare me? I have a lot of guilt about that.

He never hit me either Hannah said. I also felt guilt that he treated the boys like that.

Why did he hate them? Beck pleaded. And why didn’t Mom do anything to stop it?

Hannah could only shrug. Our parents were broken.

Why? Beck begged.

I don’t know. They never talked about it.

As the older sister, Hannah often acted as a guardian between her father and her siblings. Is that why Rebecca tried to take her own life? Because she failed her brothers? That was bullshit, and she knew it. The blame had nothing to do with failure. Andrew hadn’t failed Beck. Her career hadn’t abandoned her. It was not the future that drove her to hopelessness. Simply put, it was an unresolved past that seduced her to take this desperate act.

When Hannah came through the door, Kyle was pouring a glass of wine.

Did she call to give you more lame excuses why she didn’t come to the funeral?

She’s in the hospital, Hannah said seriously.

What happened?

She tried to kill herself. I have to go to Los Angeles.

Kyle came to her. Oh, my God.

She took a bottle of pills. I have to take care of this. I better call my brothers.

Should I come with you? Kyle asked.

No, she said. Evan is still not home.

Kyle hugged her. Are you okay to drive and handle this? After the funeral?

Hannah nodded. I’m okay. I’ll call you when I get there.

I’m so sorry. Please be careful driving.

I will.

Hannah fought a growing and too familiar pattern of calm control after drama and crisis. She thought of Rebecca’s flight from the family. Her escape to the craziness of Los Angeles.

L.A. was Just like her, Hannah thought. Beautiful at first glance, draped in mystique and glamor, but with a dark side where the human psyche lurked in ignored abandonment.

As was always the case, the drive took longer than Hannah expected. When she pulled into the hospital parking garage, she drew a breath of relief,

She called Andrew. I’m here. Where are you?

Intensive care, he said miserably. I can’t get in because I’m not family.

As she walked the concrete bridge to the main entrance and wondered who she might see today? Movie stars? Rock stars? Influencers? All smiling and holding seeping wounds or injured souls?

Jesus, she whispered to herself, listen to me.

Hannah took in the view. Cedar Sinai Hospital occupied an entire city block just east of Beverly Hills, catering to the most affluent in the city. It represented the excess