All God's Promises (A Prairie Heritage Book 7)

by Vikki Kestell

“Kari?”

  “Hi, Anthony!”

  “It is you! Are you in town?”

  “Yes. For a day or so. Are you and Gloria free this evening? Would you allow me to take you to dinner? Ruth will be joining us, too.”

  “I’m sure we’d love to. Where and when?”

  “El Pinto at six?”

  “Thank you. We’ll see you then. Looking forward to it, Kari.”

  As Kari replaced the phone’s receiver, she decided to call Søren. Recalling how early Søren, Ilsa, and Max retired, she started dialing.

  If I wait until after I get back from dinner, he will likely be in bed!

  The phone rang twice before Kari heard Max’s breathless voice on the other end.

  “Hello?”

  Kari’s heart swelled at the sound of his voice. “Hey, Max!”

  “Hay is for horses!” He giggled and Kari had to pull the receiver away from her ear as he shouted, “It’s Kari!”

  Then he said, “Where are you, Kari? Are you okay? I miss you sooo much!”

  “I bet you only miss my help with your chores in the morning,” Kari teased.

  “It’s awfully dull around here without you, and I sure miss your company in the barn.”

  The utter pathos in the boy’s voice crushed Kari. “I’m sorry, Max. I miss you, too. I’m in Albuquerque.”

  “She’s in Al-berkerkee,” Max whispered to someone.

  “Let me talk to her.”

  It was Søren’s voice and Kari sighed and smiled at the same time.

  “But I just started talkin’ to her!”

  “I’ll let you say goodbye before we hang up,” Søren insisted.

  “Well, shoot.” Sigh. “Here’s Dad, Kari.”

  “I love you, Max.” The words flowed out of Kari the way water gushed from the pump in the farm yard.

  “I love you back, Kari!”

  Then Søren’s gravelly voice came on the line. “Kari?”

  “Yes, it’s me. How are you?”

  “We’re fine. We’ve been wondering about you.”

  It was a minor accusation.

  “I’ve only been gone two nights!”

  “Three days and two nights! We’ve been worried.”

  Then they were laughing until Søren whispered, “It’s wonderful to hear your voice, Kari. We have missed you every one of those three days.”

  “I-I miss you, too.”

  She told him the short version of her visit with Matthew and Linda, told him she would be having dinner with Ruth and Anthony and his wife.

  “I will get Anthony started on the search for Elaine and Samuel and head back to NOLA as soon as he has everything he needs from me.”

  “Call again when you get to New Orleans?”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  “Well, I promised Max he could say good-bye.”

  Kari could have stayed on the phone with Søren longer, but she whispered, “All right.”

  “Kari?” Max launched into a long description of his pig, the one he hoped to enter in the state fair in September.

  After a few minutes of replying, “Oh?” and “Hmm,” and “Yes” to his excited gabble, Søren’s voice in the background interrupted.

  “Long distance is costly, Son, and she has a meeting she needs to get ready for.”

  “Oh, all right,” Max grumbled. “Dad says I have t’ let you go. Bye, Kari.”

  “Don’t ever let me go, Max,” Kari murmured, thinking he was hanging up.

  Instead, Søren’s voice came over the line. “I won’t let you go, either, Kari.”

  Kari blushed and couldn’t think of what to say.

  “I’ll talk to you soon,” Søren whispered. “Until then, know that I am thinking of you.”

  The line went dead, but Kari kept the receiver to her ear, replaying Søren’s last words over and over.

  —

  KARI HAD STAYED ON SØREN AND ILSA’S FARM a bit more than two weeks and had been on the road for three days.

  It’s time for something dressier than jeans and boots.

  Most of the nicer clothes she had brought on her journey had been unpacked and hung multiple times but never worn. Kari placed a sleeveless spring-green sheath on a hanger. She filled a small steamer, plugged it in, and spent five minutes working the wrinkles from the soft, nubby fabric.

  Satisfied with the results, Kari laid a wide beige belt of woven natural fibers on the bed and a pair of complementary espadrilles with wedge heels on the floor. Kari matched the buckle with a long gold necklace, dangly earrings, and three bangles for her wrist. She placed the jewelry on the bed next to the belt and wandered into the bathroom to shower.

  Much later, with her long hair freshly washed, dried, and hanging loose about her shoulders, Kari dressed for dinner. Then she called the front desk and asked for her car to be brought around.

  The drive to El Pinto took close to thirty minutes as Kari battled rush hour traffic on I-25. She exited the freeway at Alameda, drove west toward the river, then turned right onto 4th Street. The road narrowed and wound through a rustic neighborhood shaded in old-growth cottonwoods until she turned into the adobe-walled compound.

  More sprawling cottonwood trees shaded the gravel parking lot. Kari left her Caddy and made her way to the restaurant’s portico. Ivy climbed upon the stucco walls, and large terracotta pots, overflowing with flowering geraniums and tall cannas, framed the entrance.

  Ruth was waiting for her in the lobby. Kari reached for her and they embraced in a long hug.

  “I’m so glad to see you, Ruth!”

  “Me, too, Cookie,” Ruth answered. “And I’m looking forward to hearing about your little adventure.”

  Kari’s laugh came out in a snort. “Well, it will take most of the evening to tell you the abridged version of my ‘little’ adventure.”

  She had requested a table for four when Anthony and Gloria came through the entrance. After they had exchanged hugs all around, the hostess took them to their table.

  The waiter took their beverage orders and left chips and salsa. Anthony, Gloria, and Ruth began nibbling on the chips, but Kari was too nervous to eat. She was grateful when the waiter returned with their drinks. She gulped half of her iced tea while the waiter took their dinner orders. As soon as he left the table, Kari began.

  “I asked you here for dinner because I have so many things to tell you. What I have to say may take longer to tell than it takes us to eat—and, near the end, Anthony,” Kari sipped on her tea, “I will be asking for your investigative help.”

  Kari’s companions turned their collective stares on her, but she forged ahead. “There isn’t any quick or easy way to tell you everything except to begin at the beginning. I apologize in advance for monopolizing the conversation. I came through Albuquerque only three weeks ago; however, in those three weeks everything in my life has changed. The most important thing that has changed . . .”

  Kari’s eyes began to smart and she glanced down. “The most important thing is that I have given my life to Jesus.”

  Ruth gasped. “Truly, Kari?”

  Anthony and Gloria were murmuring, “Thank you, Jesus!” over and over. Tears leaked down Gloria’s face. Kari found that she could not hold her own tears back.

  “Truly, Ruth. He is my Savior now!” Kari’s throat was clogged with emotion and her words were thick. “But that is not all. How he showed himself to me is the best part of the amazing, mind-boggling story I am about to tell you.”

  Without anyone saying a word, they joined hands around the table, and Ruth spontaneously prayed, “O God! Our awesome God! You are more wonderful than we can imagine. Thank you! Thank you for bringing Kari into your kingdom! Thank you for drawing her to yourself, Lord!”

  Anthony continued where Ruth left off. “Yes, Lord. We are filled with joy, and we praise you. We worship you! We give you the glory. Lord, make our fellowship this night precious in your sight.”

  When they loosed hands, Ruth, Anthony, and Gloria stared at
Kari as though mesmerized.

  “Tell us what happened, Kari,” Ruth demanded.

  Kari wiped at her eyes. “I will. So, Anthony and Gloria, you already know that I inherited Peter Granger’s house. His attorneys have maintained the house in perfect condition all these years, and I moved into it not long after I went to New Orleans. The house also has a garage, one of those old, detached kinds, behind the house.”

  Kari uttered a soft laugh and swiped at her drippy nose. “That’s where it all began.”

  “In the garage?” Anthony’s look was more quizzical than his question.

  “Yup. In the garage.”

  “Okaaaay . . .”

  They all laughed and Ruth spoke up.

  “I know this part, but you need to hear it. Go ahead, Kari.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll make this as ‘bare bones’ as I can. In the attic of the garage, you see, I found an antique trunk. It was filled with Alicia Granger’s clothing. Alicia was, supposedly, my father’s mother.”

  “Wait. Supposedly?” Ruth was the first of Kari’s listeners to object.

  “It will work better if you just let me tell it, Ruth,” Kari suggested, wiggling one eyebrow.

  “But . . .” Ruth blinked and, after a moment, shrugged. “All right.”

  “So you found a trunk.” Anthony goaded Kari back to her tale.

  “I did. And at the bottom of the trunk I found a journal.”

  “And a letter,” Ruth put in.

  Kari shook her head. “I’m trying to simplify. Otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

  “Go on, Kari,” Gloria urged. “Whose journal?”

  “It belonged to a woman named Rose Thoresen. It was written between April 1909 and April 1911. I had no idea who this woman was or why or how her journal ended up in my great-uncle’s garage.”

  “In a trunk. In the garage’s attic,” Gloria repeated. “And you didn’t know who this Rose person was?”

  “Right. No clue.”

  “Ooooh! I love a good mystery,” Gloria chuckled.

  Anthony squeezed his wife’s hand. “Love, please let her get on with it.”

  Kari sipped her tea again. “Well, I read the journal more than once, and found out two things about Rose. The first was that she was a Christian. You probably know how I felt about that—but how she wrote about her walk with God? Even though I resisted, it captured my heart. She wrote about the events of each day and prayed right along as she wrote. What I mean is, it was all blended together. It was natural. Beautiful. I-I didn’t know you could know God like that.”

  Three heads nodded.

  “And the other thing?” came from Anthony.

  “The other thing was how Rose described the work that she and her daughter, Joy, were doing. Someone gave them a big house in Denver, Colorado, one of those ornate, Queen Anne or Victorian houses with three floors and lots of personality? The house was pretty rundown, but Rose and Joy needed all that space. You see, they were engaged in rescuing young women out of, um, prostitution. They got them out and then led them to Jesus.”

  “Oh!” Gloria whispered.

  “They called the place Palmer House—after the woman who had donated the house to their ministry. Anyway, I read her journal over and over, and I sort of fell in love with Rose. I wanted to find out more about her—what happened to her, to Joy, and to Palmer House.”

  “Interesting,” Anthony commented. “This is why you drove to Denver?”

  “Yes. Ruth knew this part of the story, but I’m about to get to the part she doesn’t yet know.”

  At that moment, the waiter arrived with their dinners. No one at the table spoke until he left. Then her guests looked at Kari and waited for her to continue.

  Kari stared at the plate in front of her. “I won’t be able to eat and talk at the same time.” She glanced up. “Why don’t you go ahead and I’ll keep telling you what happened. I will have this boxed up to take back to the hotel.”

  They joined hands again for a blessing, and then Ruth, Gloria, and Anthony began to eat. Kari picked up her tale.

  “Rose’s journal mentioned the name of the person who had built Palmer House—Martha Palmer’s husband, Chester—and described the house’s general location, so I went to the courthouse and searched their records. I looked through microfilm for hours, and I finally found the property listing and the address. I had a cab take me to the house.

  “It was as Rose had described it—a beautiful old house with towers, turrets, peaks, and gables and, you know, gingerbread. It sat on a huge corner lot and looked like someone still lived there, so I sort of walked up the front porch steps to the door and scoped things out.”

  “Okay,” Ruth said for the rest of them.

  “I looked around the porch and at the door. The door had this huge brass door knocker. Very cool looking. Antique.”

  “What then?” Ruth asked.

  “Well, then I used that old brass knocker. You should have heard it echo when I let it drop on that solid wood door!”

  Gloria and Ruth giggled; Anthony was appalled.

  “You knocked on the door of a stranger’s house?” Anthony demanded.

  Ruth defended Kari. “Well, of course she did. What else would she do?”

  “But this Rose person—I mean, she has to be dead. And all the other people she talked about in her journal? They have to be dead, too, right?”

  Kari’s smile glowed. “As a matter of fact, one person mentioned in Rose’s journal is still alive. And guess what? She lives at Palmer House.”

  Ruth’s fork clanked on her plate. “No! Seriously? Who?”

  “One of the women who lived at Palmer House, one of the ex-, er, prostitutes, a Chinese girl by the name of Mei-Xing Li, had a baby, a little girl she named Shan-Rose. Rose described Shan-Rose in her journal along with her daughter Joy, Joy’s husband Grant, and their infant son, Edmund. Shan-Rose is in her eighties now, but she still lives at Palmer House!

  “Of course, I couldn’t believe my luck—which, of course wasn’t luck, because God—well, I’ll get to that. So I asked if Shan-Rose could tell me a little about Rose. As you can imagine, she knew who Rose was, but she was very surprised that I was inquiring about her. Anyhow, she invited me inside and asked how I knew about Rose.”

  Kari directed her next comment to Ruth. “You can’t know how thrilled I was to be inside Palmer House! To see the great room Rose had described so vividly! To be where Rose had once been. I was almost overcome.”

  She looked from eye to eye around the table. “But that’s when it got weird. Really, really weird.”

  “I knew it!” Anthony growled. “You should never have walked up to a stranger’s door and knocked, let alone gone inside. What were you thinking?”

  “No. I’m sorry, dear Anthony, but you are wrong.” Kari’s response was gentle but firm. “If I hadn’t done exactly that, I would likely not be a Christian today.”

  Anthony’s mouth opened a little. Gloria nudged her husband’s ribs. “Let her finish, Corazón. She has more to tell us, I think.” She turned to Kari. “So what do you mean by ‘weird’?”

  Kari nodded. “Not merely weird. Really weird. I showed Shan-Rose the journal and she demanded to know where I’d gotten it. I thought she or her great-niece, the snotty teenager who takes care of her, were going to snatch it right out of my hands! The minute they laid eyes on Rose’s journal, they both acted like they’d seen a ghost.

  “Well, I wasn’t going to let anyone take Rose’s journal, so I got up to leave. That’s when Shan-Rose apologized. She was quite sincere, so I stayed. She asked if I would come back the next day. Promised she would tell me all about Rose, answer any questions I had. Mixxie—that’s Shan-Rose’s niece—said her aunt was overtired and would be at her best in the morning, so I agreed to come back the next day.”

  “And did you?” Ruth hadn’t eaten another bite.

  “Yes, of course. I came back around nine in the morning—and the situation got weirder. Instead of o
nly Shan-Rose and her great-niece, a big crowd had gathered. I mean, they had a caterer setting up a breakfast bar in the dining room, for heaven’s sake! And about twenty people, all Chinese except for one Anglo man and woman, were standing around, talking.

  “When I walked in, every last one of them stared at me like I was an exotic bug. Stared at me. I won’t go into all the details, but Shan-Rose’s brother, Quan—Mixxie’s grandfather—told me that the journal had gone missing a long time ago and they were curious as to how I’d come to have it in my possession.

  “At first, I resisted their questions. When Quan assured me that they were not going to take Rose’s journal away from me, I told them about inheriting Peter Granger’s estate and how I’d found the book in the trunk in the garage.

  “So then it got even stranger. As it turns out, all the Chinese in the room were descended from Mei-Xing, and the two Anglos were descended from Palmer House’s housekeeper, Breona. That was interesting to me, because Rose had described Breona in her journal, too.”

  Kari shrugged. “Everything was so weird, but all the history of Rose’s journal coming to life right there in front of me was riveting—and that’s what kept me from running out the door.

  “Then they asked me more questions—especially about my father. They wanted to know his name and his birthday, and then they wanted to know about my great-uncle, Peter Granger.”

  Anthony shifted uneasily and made a disgruntled sound in his throat.

  Kari shook her head. “Please be patient. I’m getting there. Still a long way to go, though.”

  “Well, get on with it!” Ruth’s impatience made Kari grin.

  “All right, all right. As the morning went along, I felt more and more like Alice and that I’d fallen straight through the looking glass. Finally, the gathering started breaking up. Shan-Rose’s brother, Quan, said that Shan-Rose needed to take a nap, but that the Anglo woman, Alannah Carmichael, would show me around the house.”

  Kari stilled. “It was while we were on the second floor of the house that Jesus spoke to me.”

  Ruth, Gloria, and Anthony stilled, too.

  “Shan-Rose keeps the bottom floor of Palmer House in lovely condition, decorated with beautiful furnishings that fit the house’s period and architecture. But when Alannah and I went upstairs? I was so disappointed. Of course, no one lives on the second or third floors now or had lived upstairs for a long while. The bedrooms smelled musty and felt abandoned. The furnishings had a dreary ‘seventies’ feel to them—not at all what I’d imagined.