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

by Vikki Kestell

  Miss Fletcher lifted her eyes to Kari. “I’ll take care of this right away.”

  “Thank you. We have a busy day ahead. Shall we get to work?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  —

  BRANSON DROPPED KARI HOME THAT EVENING after seven. She was hungry and mentally exhausted. She dropped her briefcase and handbag in her office and set off for the kitchen.

  Azalea, per the instructions Kari had left in a scrawled note, had made Kari’s dinner and placed it in the refrigerator with heating instructions. Kari had started the microwave when the phone rang.

  She glanced at the clock and sighed. Søren.

  She deliberated for a moment about letting the call ring through to her machine, but shook her head. She retraced her steps to the office and picked it up.

  “Hi, there! How was your day?”

  Søren’s voice was full of energy, and Kari sighed again, weary and over-hungry.

  “Hi, Søren. Today was . . . different. I actually just got home.”

  “Really? What did you do all day?”

  Kari flinched. Here it comes.

  “I spent the day in Oskar’s office. I will be, that is, I am taking his place for a while.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “Søren?”

  “I’m here. I’m . . . well, I’m surprised. No, I’m a bit shocked. What do you mean by ‘taking his place for a while?’”

  “You know I was working with Oskar, learning the ropes of how he manages my holdings, so to speak. Now that he is incapacitated, we have decided that I should pick up the reins. I will oversee my own businesses, at least for the time being. He will continue to advise me, and I have a good staff to support me, but it will require my full-time attention.”

  Kari had determined not to sugarcoat the situation.

  I must be frank and unapologetic.

  “You. You are replacing Oskar and are managing in his stead?” Søren spoke the words as though he was sampling them—and finding their taste to be unpleasant.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Oskar worked a punishing schedule, Kari.”

  “Um, yes. I know.”

  Yeah. I finished my first ten-hour day, she added silently.

  “And how long will you be doing this?” A touch of accusation rang in Søren’s tone—and a point between Kari’s eyes began to throb.

  Kari placed a finger to her forehead and rubbed. “I don’t know. It could be weeks or months. It could be longer, but certainly as long as it would take to find and train a suitable replacement. And that will not be a simple undertaking.”

  Silence hung on the line between them, but Kari could visualize Søren running his hand up the back of his neck and over the top of his short hair. She could plainly see his clouded expression.

  When he did speak again, his voice was rough. “What does this mean for us, Kari?”

  She swallowed. “In the immediate, I don’t see that it changes anything except that I will be busier than I was. I have a lot of work to do to come up to Oskar’s speed.”

  “In the immediate? What about the future? Our future?”

  “I’m focusing on what needs to be done right now, not six months from now.”

  “Well, it seems to me that you are digging in, creating more entanglements in New Orleans rather than freeing yourself from the existing ones.”

  “I-I didn’t promise anything, Søren. I didn’t promise to disentangle myself from my obligations. And I did tell you that if we married I couldn’t be a full-time farmer’s wife.”

  His response was abrupt. Angry. “Right. And where have I heard that before?”

  Kari recalled then that Søren’s first wife, Max’s mother, had hated living on the farm. She had left her husband and son so she could “find herself.”

  What she had found was death at the needle-end of a syringe filled with heroin.

  “Don’t do that, Søren. I’m not like Max’s mother. I love your farm. I love being there. But I like living here, too. And in the same way you have your responsibilities, I have mine. Can’t we have both? Can’t we split our time and efforts between the farm and here?”

  Kari swiveled her chair so that she could see the wall with all the family photos on it. She got up and touched the picture of Søren and Max.

  Lord, you know that someday I want this picture to include me.

  She made herself answer softly. “Right now I need to be here to learn how to take care of my businesses, but eventually we could figure out how to balance our lives, couldn’t we? It might take a little while, but couldn’t you see yourself living here part-time? Probably in the winter?”

  “Me live in New Orleans? In your house?” Those few words were laced with amazement. Incredulity. Near derision.

  I don’t want to argue with him, Lord. Please help us!

  “Søren, it has been a long day for both of us. I’m tired and I’m sure you are, too. Perhaps we could think about this and have a conversation when we’re both rested. If we are going to share each other’s lives, we need to find our common interests and figure out how it would work—”

  “Common interests? My life is here on my land, Kari. We have nothing in common in New Orleans. And every time I turn around, you are changing. I hardly know who you are anymore! Frankly, I have more in common with your groundskeeper than I do with you, Kari.”

  It stung, the way he tossed her conciliatory efforts aside, but she persisted.

  “We are merely talking logistics, Søren—my place or yours, when and where. I told you I couldn’t live on the farm year round. And right now, I have responsibilities to tend to. So I need to work. So what? A lot of women work these days. Why can’t you accept that? I know we can figure out the details if we try.”

  Søren’s next words were flat. “You are set on this? You, who can afford to hire a brigade of managers, you are set on doing it all yourself?”

  “It’s not that simple, Søren, and I’m not by myself. I have a good staff, lots of help. I . . .”

  Yes, Kari’s heart responded to the core of Søren’s question. Yes, it is the right thing. And I want to do this.

  “Yes, Søren. I’m set on this. For the present. I feel it is important to have my own hands on the wheel. Can you please try to understand?”

  She could hear Søren’s ragged breathing over the line, but he said nothing for a long moment.

  Then he said, “I’m willing to wait for you, Kari, but it sounds like you will be fully occupied for the foreseeable future.”

  His answer wasn’t angry. It was resigned.

  “Until you come to a place where you can begin to move toward marriage with me, I think we should take a break.”

  “A break?” Kari couldn’t breathe.

  “Yeah. Some time away from each other. Time to think.”

  “And pray?”

  He snorted a little. “Yes, and to pray. Because until the Lord shows you that what you’re doing is wrong, this—us—isn’t going to work.”

  Until the Lord shows me? Kari felt her calm give way to anger.

  “You know, Søren, the word ‘us’ implies two people, two individuals. I don’t think you have really considered what ‘us’ means. I don’t think you’ve prayed about my circumstances at all except to wish it all away.”

  She drew a deep breath. “I’m willing to share everything I have with you. Think about it! Think about your farm. We could modernize it—and isn’t that what you’ve longed to do for years? I’m willing to compromise and live there with you part of the time. In fact, shuttling back and forth doesn’t present a problem. I could buy my own plane if needed, for heaven’s sake!

  “Søren, I’m willing to make any reasonable adjustment to make this work—but I don’t hear anything on your part about sharing, compromise, or adjustment. It’s as though you expect me to show up in RiverBend with nothing and merge into your nice, neat, simple life without a ripple.

  “Do you want me to giv
e up all I am and all I have, even though it is only partially mine? Well, that isn’t going to happen. I have to protect the part that belongs to Elaine and Samuel. I—”

  Søren cut in, and his retort was cold.

  Biting.

  “Elaine and Samuel are not ‘coming home,’ Kari. And they are not the children you remember them as. They are grown and have their own lives. You aren’t going to find them in this lifetime. These are facts. You need to accept the truth and, once and for all, let them go.”

  Let them go? Nothing Søren said could have hurt her more. Stung, Kari sank into her desk chair. His words echoed a dark refrain she could not shut out.

  Elaine and Samuel are not coming home, Kari.

  Elaine and Samuel are not coming home, Kari.

  Elaine and Samuel are not coming home, Kari.

  For the first time since her last nightmare in July, anxiety bubbled up in her chest and squeezed her throat. Kari blinked and swallowed, pushing back on the rising panic.

  No! No, I won’t have a panic attack! Not now!

  “I-I need to go, Søren,” she whispered.

  “Wait! I’m sorry. That was overly harsh. Uncalled f—”

  “I need to go. Please. Please don’t call me . . . for a while.”

  She managed to fumble the handset back into its cradle but didn’t get it on right. The handset rolled out onto the desk and Kari heard the dial tone, a faint humming in the distance.

  Or was that the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears?

  She was hyperventilating. The edges of her vision were graying, darkening.

  Kari stumbled to her feet. “Jesus, please help me!”

  But The Black crashed down upon her and threw her to her knees. The mist surrounded and engulfed her, and Kari knew she would soon lose consciousness. Even as her limbs lost sensation and she crumbled facedown on the carpet, she prayed with desperate abandon.

  Lord, I don’t care what Søren said! Just as Abraham faced the fact that his body was dead, I face the impossibility of finding Elaine and Sammie, and I choose to trust you anyway.

  I choose to trust you anyway.

  I choose to trus—

  ~~**~~

  Part 2

  Chapter 15

  By his divine power,

  God has given us everything

  we need for living a godly life.

  We have received all of this

  by coming to know him,

  the one who called us

  to himself by means of his

  marvelous glory and excellence.

  And because of his glory and excellence,

  he has given us

  great and precious promises.

  (2 Peter 1:3 & 4a, NLT)

  —

  May 1992

  KARI DRESSED WITH HER USUAL CARE for another long day at the office. Under her breath she hummed the lines of an old hymn, one that had come to mean a lot to her through the last five months.

  I need thee, O I need thee

  Every hour I need thee.

  O bless me now, my Savior

  I come to thee

  “Every hour, Lord, every hour,” she whispered. “Not once a day or once a week, but every hour.”

  In her Bible study time this morning, she’d taken heart from a passage in Philippians 4. Now she was turning those lines over in her mind, examining them from all sides. Deciding how to put them into practice.

  Finally, brothers and sisters,

  whatever is true, whatever is noble,

  whatever is right, whatever is pure,

  whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable

  —if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—

  think about such things.

  Whatever you have learned or received

  or heard from me, or seen in me

  —put it into practice.

  And the God of peace will be with you.

  “True. Noble. Right. Pure. Lovely. Admirable. Excellent or praiseworthy. Lord, every hour please help me to think on these things. Help me to facilitate and increase good things wherever I go. Help me not to be mired down in the morass of problems I face every day.”

  She sighed over her last words. “Ha! Morass of problems? You know I have no shortage of those.”

  She closed her eyes. “Lord, please teach me how to build others up and draw them to Jesus. I have such influence! Show me how to wield my authority wisely.”

  Branson knocked at her front door and Kari caught up her handbag and briefcase.

  “Good morning, Mr. Branson.”

  “A fine morning, Miss Michaels.”

  “Yes. Yes, it is!”

  —

  “WHAT DOES MY DAY LOOK LIKE?” Kari asked Bettina.

  “You have a meeting first thing with your tax advisor regarding next year’s changes to the tax code. You also have two conference calls, one at 10:15, the other at 3 p.m. Sandwiched in between you have a meeting with one of your hotel managers regarding upcoming renovations. I believe he will be showing you the architectural drawings. I have scheduled an hour with him.”

  “Taxes first thing, you say?” Kari shuddered in faux horror. “And what about lunch, Bettina?”

  “You have a working lunch with Mr. Oskar.”

  “Oh! He’s coming in?”

  “Yes, Miss Michaels.”

  “Excellent!”

  Kari smiled. She would enjoy having lunch with Oskar, even if it was a working lunch.

  She settled into her day and lost track of time until Miss Fletcher mentioned that Oskar was waiting in the rotunda.

  Kari got up and checked her appearance in the mirror behind her door. “Why the rotunda? Why didn’t he come to my office?”

  Bettina looked aside but her lips twitched. Then she frowned and pursed her mouth.

  Kari had only a second to shoot her assistant a quizzical look. She grabbed her handbag and headed toward the rotunda at a brisk pace. As she cleared the hallway and stepped into the open space, she was greeted by a cacophony of shouts and whistles.

  “Surprise! Happy birthday!”

  Amidst a wealth of balloons and crepe paper streamers, every Brunell & Brunell employee called their birthday greetings. Clover and Lorene; the other senior partners, Jeffers and Clive Brunell; Oskar and Melanie; and Miss Dawes grinned near a long table upon which was laid a generous lunch and a very prominent, very large birthday cake.

  Someone started singing “Happy Birthday,” and the smiling employees joined in.

  Stunned, Kari asked Miss Fletcher. “Is today my birthday?”

  “It most certainly is.” She giggled at Kari’s chagrin.

  Kari swiveled back, still in shock, to receive handshakes and hugs from the well-wishers.

  “All right. All right, everyone,” Clover called. “Miss Dawes and Miss Fletcher have arranged a wonderful lunch for you. Please enjoy it. When everyone has had a chance to eat, we’ll cut and serve the cake.”

  He motioned to Kari. “Miss Kari? Would you like to go first?”

  “Yes, but before I do . . .” She addressed the little crowd. “Thank you. Thank you all for wishing me a very happy birthday. Did you surprise me? You did indeed. I had completely forgotten what day it was.”

  She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “You could knock me over with a feather about now!”

  The employees laughed, and then Kari joined Clover at the buffet table. She helped herself to a sampling of the assorted sandwiches and salads, sat down at the table Miss Fletcher indicated, and waited for Oskar and Melanie to join her.

  As they took their seats, a young brunette woman followed and wheeled Oskar’s oxygen tank to his side. She sat down next to Melanie.

  “Miss Kari, this is our daughter, Scarlett Brunell. I know we’ve talked about her, but the two of you have not actually met.”

  “Scarlett! Yes. I’m so glad to meet you.”

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance also, Miss Michaels. Mom and Dad have told me
much about you.”

  Kari nodded and studied the woman. What she noticed was the same self-composure Oskar possessed—and she liked what she saw.

  “You graduated law school last spring, I believe?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I did.”

  “Where are you working at present?”

  “I’m clerking for Sutton, Brown, and Darling, in Charleston. I will finish my year with them next month, after which I intend to return to New Orleans and find a position here. I’m in town this week to sit for my state bar exams.”

  “And did you inherit your father’s business savvy, Scarlett?”

  Scarlett met Kari’s questioning gaze. “I hope someday to be half as wise as he is, but, yes, I believe I possess some business acumen. I earned dual bachelor’s degrees in accounting and business with an emphasis in global economics.”

  Kari tipped her head and considered her. “How long will you be in town, Scarlett? Do you have time to come see me before you leave?”

  Scarlett’s eyes widened a fraction. “I will make time, Miss Michaels.”

  Kari nodded. “I’ll have Bettina set it up.”

  —

  KARI RETURNED HOME THAT EVENING AROUND SIX. She sat at her desk and read reports while she ate the meal left by Azalea.

  Azalea. I never see her anymore. I appreciate the clean, organized home she provides and enjoy the wonderful meals she fixes, but I don’t wake up to her coffee and beignets—I’m gone when she arrives in the morning, not back until after she leaves.

  I miss her smiling face.

  Kari sighed and returned to the printout she was studying. The phone rang around eight. When Kari picked it up and heard the young voice on the other end, her heart did flip-flops.

  “Hey, Kari!”

  “Hay is for horses, Max.” Kari grinned and discovered that her eyes were watering. “I’m so happy to hear your voice, Max!”

  “Well it’s your birthday, so I had to call. Happy birthday, Kari! Did you have a party? A cake?”

  “I sure did. My office threw a big party at lunchtime. You should have seen that cake—three layers of vanilla cake with raspberry filling between one layer and chocolate fudge between the other. Iced in real whipped cream—not that greasy, shortening kind of frosting.”