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

by Vikki Kestell

  Sammie’s funeral?

  Kari could not breathe.

  Sammie! I wanted to find you. I tried! I did!

  Owen took Kari’s car keys from her purse and handed them to Bettina. He guided her from her office to the elevator and down to the parking garage. Then he placed Kari in the front seat of his car and pulled away from the offices of Michaels Enterprises.

  They were silent as they rode to Kari’s house until Owen cleared his throat. “We uncovered one more piece of information about your brother, Kari.”

  Kari turned her head toward him. “Yes?”

  “Stephen and Kelly Portland left behind two children.”

  “Oh!” Kari’s chin began to tremble. “How old? How old are they?”

  “Shannon is four. Robbie is one.”

  Kari clapped a hand to her chin to make it stop quivering. “Those poor babies! O Jesus, please help them!”

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 27

  A SLOW DRIZZLE MET THEM AT THE FUNERAL HOME, but the parking lot was packed. Anthony slid their rental car into a slot at the far end of the lot.

  “So many people are here already,” Kari murmured.

  “There is a viewing prior to the service,” Owen reminded her.

  “Oh. Of course.”

  “Ready?” Ruth asked Kari.

  “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

  Ruth and Kari got out and walked together toward the double doors of the building. Owen and Anthony followed behind. When they reached the entrance, Owen opened the door and Kari and Ruth stepped inside.

  The lobby was clogged with mourners milling about, some greeting each other, some whispering. The crush of the crowd overwhelmed Kari. As she signed the guest book, she felt her heart would jump out of her chest.

  A funeral director greeted them in soft, sober tones and handed them folded service programs.

  Owen motioned him aside and asked, “Could you point out the parents of the deceased, please?”

  “Yes. They are seated at the front to greet friends during the viewing. The Greenes are on the left; the Portlands are on the right.”

  “Thank you.”

  Owen gently tugged Kari’s arm. “The Portlands are in the front row, right. Kelly’s parents are on the left,” he whispered.

  Kari nodded.

  “Anthony and I will keep our eyes open for Laynie,” he breathed into Kari’s ear. “If the opportunity presents itself, we’ll ask for a private word with her after the service.”

  Again, Kari nodded. She was numb. Shaky.

  With Ruth at her side, Kari walked up the center aisle. Her legs felt like rubber, as if they had no bones. Ruth took hold of her arm.

  In the left front row, a couple who looked to be in their sixties and a younger, very pregnant woman huddled together. A man stood with his hand resting on the pregnant woman’s shoulder.

  Kelly’s parents, Kari thought. And her sister and husband?

  Kari’s footsteps slowed as she approached the two caskets. Kelly’s casket was closed, and Kari pushed away thoughts of the accident that had killed her outright—and the damage the accident had to have caused.

  The other casket was open. With Ruth supporting her, she made her way to it.

  Kari stared down at the body of the stranger lying there. At first, she saw only light brown hair, a strong chin, and closed eyes. As she struggled to see some resemblance to the baby brother she’d known but briefly, Ruth murmured, “Look at his hair, Kari.”

  “What?”

  “It is the same as yours. Light brown. Shimmers of gold. And Kari, look! Look at this.”

  Ruth gestured to the large color photograph centered on the table between the two caskets. Kari glanced at it and stopped, stunned.

  A happy couple, arms interlocked, smiled out of the frame. But Kari could only stare at the man—and his very familiar, very blue eyes.

  “Kari, he has your eyes,” Ruth whispered.

  Like Søren’s. Like mine.

  Every doubt drained away. Kari had found her brother.

  “Sammie,” she gasped. “Sammie!” Kari pressed a tissue to her face to hold back the tears. Through the sheen over her eyes, she tried to memorize Sammie’s face.

  “Okay, come on, Cookie.” Ruth took Kari’s arm and steered her away—only to come face to face with the man the funeral director had identified as Sammie’s father.

  He took in Kari’s emotional state and wiped his own eyes before asking, “Did you know Stephen well?”

  Ruth slid her eyes toward Kari, wondering how she would respond.

  Kari sniffed and fumbled for the right answer. “I hadn’t, um, seen him in a long time,” she managed, “but-but he was . . . very dear to me.”

  “Please come meet my wife,” the man said, “Stephen’s mother.” He took Kari’s arm and led her to the first row of chairs.

  Kari blinked when she took in the frail African-American woman slumped in a wheelchair. “Hello,” she whispered.

  “Thank you for coming, child.” The words were spoken by rote and broken by weeping. “I apologize. I can’t seem to stop crying.”

  Polly Portland lifted her grief-stricken face to Kari. “Seems like I’m done and then it just starts all over and—Oh! Oh, my!”

  The woman looked to her husband. “Gene?”

  “I apologize. I didn’t get your names.”

  “I’m Kari. Kari Michaels. This is my friend, Ruth.”

  “Gene and Polly Portland.”

  Polly took Kari’s hand and peered into her face. “But, Gene? Look at this girl.” She was insistent.

  Kari turned toward Gene Portland and let him examine her.

  “What is it, Polly?”

  “She-she reminds me of Stephen. And Laynie.”

  Gene looked at her again. “I—yes, I see what you mean.”

  “It’s her eyes, ’specially.” Polly gripped Kari’s hand harder. “Like Stephen’s.” The tiny woman was shaking a little.

  Kari could think of nothing else to say that would be appropriate. It wasn’t the right time or place. “Please, Mrs. Portland. Don’t upset yourself.”

  Ruth nodded her agreement. “We are so very sorry for your loss. Is there a reception afterward? We might speak to you again then.”

  She disentangled Polly’s hand from Kari’s and pulled Kari down the aisle. “This isn’t going to be easy,” she muttered.

  Kari couldn’t answer what she was thinking, No. It isn’t.

  They found seats in the very back but Kari kept turning her head, searching.

  Lord, where is my sister? Please, Lord!

  “Do you see her? Do you see the woman you sat next to on the plane?”

  “No, not yet.” Ruth swiveled to the right. “Yes! There she is,” Ruth whispered.

  Kari’s hungry eyes sought and fell upon the tall, graceful woman. Her hair was lighter than Kari’s, a dark blonde with natural highlights. She wore it up in a sophisticated twist.

  Elaine!

  Kari and Ruth observed the woman as she paused and greeted mourners on her way to the front of the room. She had a composure about her that seemed unshakable—polite, calm, collected. They saw Anthony and Owen position themselves so that the woman would come upon them naturally.

  Kari and Ruth watched the exchange.

  Laynie shook their hands and listened to something Anthony said. She studied Anthony and Owen in turn. When Anthony spoke again, her lips pursed slightly. Other than that, nothing in her expression marred her poise.

  Finally, she gave a curt nod and stepped away from them, continuing to work her way to the front of the room until she reached the two caskets. She stared at the carpet a long moment as though preparing herself and then stood next to the open casket where her brother lay.

  When she drew herself up and turned away, her expression was unchanged. She took the seat beside her parents.

  Anthony and Owen joined Kari and Ruth as the auditorium began to quiet.

  Kari searched thei
r faces. “Well?”

  “I told her we wished for a few minutes of her time following the service. That we had some important information regarding her brother.”

  “How did she respond?”

  Anthony grimaced. “Hard to say. I couldn’t get a read on her.”

  He looked to Owen for confirmation. Owen shrugged. “Me, neither.”

  “Well, did you find out anything about the children?”

  “We asked around. Apparently, Kelly’s parents have hired a nanny. She has the children in another room during the service. The nanny has Kelly’s sister Talia’s three boys, too.”

  That was all they had time to report before the minister came to the lectern and the service commenced.

  “We are here today to celebrate the lives of Stephen and Kelly Portland—but more importantly, to celebrate their home going. For the Scriptures tell us emphatically, ‘that to live is Christ, and to die is gain.’ Yes, we have lost them temporarily, but Stephen and Kelly, who loved and lived for Jesus, have gained their eternal home with him.”

  Kari hadn’t known what to expect. Being preoccupied with the news of Sammie’s death, she hadn’t given the service any thought. At the opening words of the minister, her soul began to lift.

  Sammie and his wife know Jesus! They know him!

  She heaved a sigh and a wave of relief flowed through her chest. Ruth gripped her hand.

  “Our God is so good,” Ruth whispered. “So good!”

  Tears of joy mingled with Kari’s tears of grief.

  O Lord! You are faithful to your promises!

  The assembled mourners stood and Kari stood with them, not having heard the minister’s instructions. And then the attendees’ united voices, raised in sweet triumph, rolled like warm, healing ointment over Kari’s heart.

  When peace, like a river,

  attendeth my way,

  When sorrows like sea billows roll;

  Whatever my lot,

  Thou hast taught me to say,

  It is well, it is well with my soul.

  It is well with my soul,

  It is well, it is well with my soul.

  And Lord, haste the day

  when the faith shall be sight,

  The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

  The trump shall resound,

  and the Lord shall descend,

  Even so, it is well with my soul.

  It is well with my soul,

  It is well, it is well with my soul.

  Yes, Lord. It is well with my soul, Kari acknowledged.

  When the hymn ended, she was able to listen with a calm mind as friends, fellow church members, and business acquaintances shared their memories of Stephen and Kelly.

  I am so glad we are here, Lord. For the rest of my days I will cherish this little bit of Sammie they are sharing, Kari thought. I will hold fast to the tiny glimpse into Sammie’s life offered by those who knew him best.

  The last person to share was Elaine.

  My sister! Kari’s heart said again and again.

  “Good morning. My name is Helena Portland, although those of you who know me well know that I prefer Laynie.”

  Laynie? Kari frowned as hazy memories intruded. Did I call her Laynie? Yes, I think I did.

  “I want to speak for a moment about my brother Stephen—although, again, if you know me, you know that my pet name for Stephen was Sammie.”

  Sammie! Under the ripple of laughter that ran through the room, Kari wrung Ruth’s hand.

  “Sammie and I were very close growing up—closer, I would say, than most brothers and sisters. We had a bond that I cannot describe except to say that, when I think of home, I think not of a place, but a face. You see, Sammie and I were adopted, and my earliest, most precious memories—memories earlier even than those of our beloved Mama and Dad—are wrapped up in him.”

  Laynie! Do you have any memories of me? Of Mommy and Daddy?

  Laynie addressed Kelly’s family. “Mr. and Mrs. Greene, when Sammie met Kelly, we all knew she was perfect for him, and I was so happy for both of them. But I also loved Kelly from a purely selfish perspective. You see, she was never jealous of my bond with Sammie.

  “I have lived and worked in Europe for more than fifteen years, returning home to Seattle on leave only once a year. Thirty precious days. I must cram all my family time into that one short month—time with Mama and Dad, but also time with Sammie, especially out on the water in his sailboat, The Wave Skipper.

  “Kelly had a generous, loving heart, and she never begrudged me time alone with Sammie during that month. I loved her for that, and I loved her more for the two beautiful children she gave Sammie. Shannon and Robbie are—”

  Laynie’s voice cracked and sniffs around the room joined her. Kari and Ruth wept with every mourner present.

  “Shannon and Robbie hold my heart,” Laynie managed to say, “and that heart breaks for them today, for they do not yet understand that their mommy and daddy are not coming back.

  “Please pray for them,” Laynie finished, her voice dropping so low that Kari had to strain to make out the words.

  Laynie gathered herself and concluded, “I, my parents, Gene and Polly Portland; Kelly’s parents, Bill and Mary Greene; and Kelly’s sister, Talia, and her family thank you for coming today to honor Stephen and Kelly.”

  The minister prayed a closing benediction and then announced, “Thank you for coming today to celebrate the lives of Stephen and Kelly Portland. The burials will take place this afternoon with only family in attendance. Please join us now in the reception hall for a light lunch.”

  Kari, Ruth, Owen, and Anthony waited for most of the crowd to leave the room before making their way to the reception hall. Kari was trembling and faint from the emotional strain.

  “Sit here,” Ruth instructed. “I’ll get you some punch.”

  Owen found Kari a chair, and she relaxed into it, so exhausted. Then the hum of chatter dropped as the nanny they’d hired to help with the children brought them into the hall. Kari strained forward as a little girl with light brown hair raced toward Polly Portland.

  Talia’s husband corralled his boys and took them to get something to eat. Robbie, however, was wrapped in a blanket in the Nanny’s arms, presumably sleeping.

  Ruth brought Kari a glass of punch and a plate of finger foods, but Kari had no appetite except to study Sammie’s children or Laynie. She watched and waited, hoping Laynie might, by some miracle, feel drawn to her.

  More than once, the woman turned or faced in her direction. Kari felt certain Laynie would look at her, that their eyes would meet and some spark of recognition would ignite, but Laynie’s soft blue eyes remained preoccupied with her parents or those who came to offer their condolences.

  Each time Laynie passed where Kari was seated, Kari thought surely they would make eye contact—only to be disappointed when Laynie’s gaze passed over or through her. As the reception wore on, Kari’s hope that Laynie might, by some miracle, recognize or be drawn to her grew dimmer.

  After two hours, the crowd of memorial attendees began to disperse until only a few knots of mourners remained. The Portlands and Kelly’s parents sat at a table together speaking in hushed tones.

  Kari saw that the nanny was reading the girl a story. She sat next to the nanny on a bench, the boy’s sleeping form curled on the bench on the nanny’s other side. He was still wrapped in a blanket, his thumb planted in his mouth.

  “I think now is our best shot,” Owen suggested.

  Anthony again waited off to the side for Laynie to notice him, Kari, Ruth, and Owen not far away. When Anthony signaled Laynie, she approached him. “You said you had some information for me regarding my brother.”

  Kari, Ruth, and Owen loitered close enough that they could make out the woman’s words, but far enough away and facing a little to the side, that they hoped the woman would not think they were listening in.

  “Yes,” Anthony answered. “A personal matter.”

  “
So you said. However, is this really the appropriate time? My parents and I are in mourning.”

  Anthony nodded and the lines between his eyes deepened. “We do understand and sympathize with you. If you decide to do this later, we can. However, we’ve come quite a distance and would hate to miss this opportunity while the family is together. The funeral director has provided a private room for us to talk.”

  Laynie studied Anthony. “Are those two women with you? That one,” Laynie gestured toward Kari with her chin, “has been fixated on me for some reason.”

  Anthony, as surprised as Kari and Ruth that she had noticed them, said simply, “Yes.”

  Laynie’s gaze looked past Kari and fastened on Ruth—and did a double take. “You!”

  Ruth nodded. She and Kari and Owen moved to join Anthony and Laynie.

  In the seconds it took them to walk over, Laynie’s momentary surprise disappeared. In its place was cool detachment. “We sat together on the plane. New York to Chicago and then Chicago to Denver. Just who are you? What is this about?”

  “We would be happy to explain,” Anthony assured her, “but in private would be best.”

  “Then let’s get this over with.” She stared at Anthony with raised brows. “I hope, for your sake, that you aren’t selling anything.”

  “I assure you I am not. This way, please.” He motioned to the others to follow and led Laynie down a hall toward the room the funeral director had given them.

  They settled uneasily into a small circle of chairs.

  “My name is—”

  “Anthony Esquibel. So you said.”

  “Yes; and I should tell you that I am a private investigator licensed in the State of New Mexico.”

  Laynie showed no surprise, only a glimmer of curiosity. “Oh? And your friends are?”

  Anthony moved his hand in Ruth’s direction. “Ruth Graff. Owen Washington. And my client, Kari Michaels.”

  Laynie nodded to Ruth. “Yes, Ruth. You were . . . very kind to me on the plane.” She glanced at Kari and Owen. “All right. Now what?”

  Anthony hesitated a fraction of a second. “Miss Portland, you said in the service that you and your brother were adopted.”