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

by Vikki Kestell

  Kari glanced away to wipe her moist eyes. When she looked back, the real Laynie was staring back at her.

  “Laynie! Elaine!” Kari reached for her sister’s hands and they gripped each other. “I have longed for this day.”

  Laynie blinked back her own tears. “Care. All my life your name and your voice have both haunted and eluded me. I-I wouldn’t let Mama and Dad call me anything but Laynie, because I could hear your voice in my head. I thought . . . I thought I’d done something wrong and that’s why you left me.”

  “How could you have done anything wrong? You were a baby! I’m here now, Laynie. God has brought us back together. I won’t ever be far away again.”

  Laynie did not relinquish her hold on Kari’s hands, but she stared at the table. “I wasn’t lying when I said you didn’t know me, Kari. You don’t know . . . what I’ve done . . . for our country.”

  Kari’s heart stuttered as the possibilities—the awful possibilities—sifted through her mind.

  Laynie squeezed Kari’s hands and released them. “And we may never speak of this again, Kari. Never.”

  “I-I understand. But—”

  “No buts. I’ll stay with Mama and Dad through the end of the week. Then I’ll go back.”

  “But, Laynie!”

  The old, unreadable Laynie was back. “Let me be clear, Kari. Even if there were a way for me to ‘get out,’ Sammie would not thank me for raising Shannon and Robbie. I’m not like you. I’m not like him. Not like Mama and Dad.”

  “You mean you aren’t a Christian.” Kari said it as a statement.

  “Yes. I never took to it like Sammie did because, even from the beginning, I knew I was different. Flawed. I don’t fit.”

  “I’ve only been a follower of Jesus for around three years, Laynie. I always had these . . . internal voices telling me that I did not belong. That I would never belong.”

  Laynie snorted. “We should compare voices sometime. I have my own demons.”

  Conviction rose in Kari. “Well, those voices lied to me. They lied about God. About myself. They lied to me, like they are lying to you.”

  Kari was halted by Laynie’s icy retort. “I only wanted to explain myself, Kari, not engage in a theological debate.”

  Kari nodded slowly. “I apologize, but you need to know that nothing, nothing, can change how I feel about you. Not one iota. You are my sister. I love you. I would give my life for you.”

  Laynie licked her lips and the shutters fell away again. “And I for you. I thought Sammie was my last link to whatever it was I was missing, but—”

  “But God, at just the right time, brought us back together.”

  One side of Laynie’s mouth tipped up. “Sammie and I learned to ‘agree to disagree’ on the subject of God and Christianity. When we were out on the water in the sailboat? Then we could say anything. We were two hearts in a little boat bobbing on the water. I will miss that but . . .”

  “But?”

  “But perhaps you and I can find a boat for our two hearts?”

  Laynie smiled. Kari smiled back. They picked at their salads then, saying little, both processing the emotions that bound them together.

  Before they left, Kari said, “You don’t know this, but I’ve become something of a businesswoman. I run a large conglomerate—an assortment of businesses and holdings to which you have one-third ownership rights. You will be a multimillionaire when the dust clears, Laynie.”

  “When the dust clears?”

  “We’ll go through probate again. Since you’d been missing so long, the courts awarded the estate to me. Technically, it is all mine; however, I insisted that your names remain in the court documents, should you ever be found. We’ll go through probate again and, somehow, split it all up.

  “One-third will be split between Shannon and Robbie, although I will petition the court to make me the administrator of their holdings until they are each twenty-one.”

  “No.”

  “Hm?”

  “No, you can’t do that.” Laynie gripped Kari’s hand again. “It could be dangerous for my name to come out in open court documents, in newspapers. If a journalist sought me out? Wanted an interview or photos? It could lead back to me and my other, er, persona. It could be dangerous if that person was connected in any way to Stephen’s name. My agency made certain my name was left out of Stephen and Kelly’s obituary; in fact, you would be hard-pressed to find Helena Portland in many public documents these days. However, it would be more difficult to keep it that way if lawyers get involved.”

  She scanned the room, but the lunch crowd was gone and the tables around them were vacant. “Listen to me, Kari. You are the only person on American soil, outside of my handlers, who knows what I do. It needs to stay that way.”

  The intensity in Laynie’s eyes became grave. “The people I, er, interact with in . . . that country you mentioned? They have curious, probing minds and long fingers. My coming home for Stephen’s funeral on only a moment’s notice set my handlers’ teeth on edge. No one must ever trace my cover’s movements here. No one must ever associate her with Helena Portland. Not ever.”

  Kari shivered. “So, what should I do about the estate?”

  “Keep it as it is. Perhaps in ten or fifteen years, when I’m not young and attractive enough for this work, things may be different.”

  Laynie laughed and, to Kari’s ears, it was an ugly, ragged sound. “Who knows? Someday I may be allowed to retire. You can provide for Shannon and Robbie, on the side, so to speak, but nothing must ever come close to connecting the woman I am in Stockholm with this estate you manage—because it could link Shannon and Robbie to me.”

  She tightened her hold on Kari’s hand. “You understand what I’m saying? Shannon and Robbie make me vulnerable, and certain . . . individuals would exploit that weakness.”

  Laynie lapsed into silence, her thoughts far away.

  A man such as Vassili Aleksandrovich Petroff. He would use them against me in a heartbeat. I must be careful. So very careful.

  “Laynie?”

  Laynie gathered herself.

  “Keep my name out of the estate, Kari. Keep it out of your life. For Shannon and Robbie’s sake.”

  Kari shivered again. “You have my word, Laynie.”

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 30

  “GO ON HOME AHEAD OF ME,” Kari told her friends late that evening. “I will stay another week and spend some time getting to know Laynie, Shannon, and Robbie.”

  Ruth, Owen, and Anthony bid her a reluctant goodbye and departed for the airport in a cab the following morning. Kari called the office and spoke at length with Scarlett and Bettina.

  “If I encounter anything I can’t handle, I will call you, Kari,” Scarlett assured her.

  “Thank you.”

  “We’re all very sorry about your brother,” Bettina said softly. “But are you also getting to know your sister?”

  “Yes. Thank you for asking.”

  Laynie’s warning tingled across Kari’s skin. Don’t add any detail, Kari, she cautioned herself.

  “Please do not publicize that I’ve found my sister,” she directed. “No one in the office or outside my confidence need know. It-it is important.”

  “All right, if that’s what you want, Kari,” Scarlett assured her. “You can count on our discretion.”

  Kari drove the rental car to pick up Laynie from the Portlands’ home. Polly invited her to breakfast. Seeing how her presence seemed to lighten Polly’s grief a little, Kari stayed and, in a way, felt that she was seeing the Portland family as it had been before Sammie and Laynie grew up and moved away.

  “You’ve made me feel very welcome,” Kari said as she and Laynie prepared to leave. “Thank you.”

  Polly reached up and drew Kari toward her, searching Kari’s face with hungry eyes. She kissed Kari’s cheek before she let her go.

  —

  “WHERE SHALL WE TAKE THEM?” Kari asked as she and Laynie headed to the Greenes’
to pick up the children.

  “It’s not too cool today. Union Lake Park would be nice. Lots of boats, houseboats, even seaplanes taking off from the lake and landing.”

  “Robbie will love that!”

  “It’s where . . . it’s where Sammie keeps his boat. I paid for the slip, and he paid for the boat’s maintenance. We would motor through the locks and out into the sound.”

  She looked bleak. “They will sell the boat now.”

  “But they haven’t yet, have they? Take me,” Kari said impulsively. “Not while we have the children today, but before you leave? Take me sailing?”

  Kari thought that every part of Laynie softened. She smiled at Kari. “Nothing you could have said could be more right than that. Thank you.”

  Kari lifted one shoulder. “Well, don’t thank me yet. I have no idea if I get seasick or not.”

  —

  “WHAT’S ALL THIS STUFF?”

  The Greenes’ nanny had piled coats, hats, mittens, a diaper bag, a large lunch pouch, blankets, and two car seats on the floor near the Greenes’ front door.

  Laynie smirked. “Welcome to the world of kids. First, we need to install these car seats in your rental. Have a degree in engineering, by chance?”

  When they had the seats properly installed, Kari and Laynie went back for the children.

  Shannon again stared at Kari and asked, “Who’re you?”

  “We met at your Grammy Polly’s house day before yesterday, remember? I’m Aunt Kari.”

  Laynie grinned. “Aunt Kari. I like it.”

  Robbie, on the other hand, toddled up to Kari and reached out his arms. Kari lifted him up and he patted her face with both hands. With enthusiasm.

  “Goodness! You haven’t missed many meals, Sir Robert!” She hefted him to her hip. “He’s built like a tank.”

  Laynie smirked.

  —

  THE DAY WAS PERFECT—EXCEPT FOR having to pursue Robbie nonstop as he chased and tormented seagulls. He never failed to scream in delighted abandon as he hounded the scavenging birds.

  Yes, the day was perfect. Except for Shannon’s sixteen questions every sixty seconds. Except for snacks and bottles and lost mittens and potty breaks.

  Except for diapers.

  “Ugh! That is so disgusting,” Kari exclaimed.

  “Bet you don’t see many of those in your high-flying board rooms,” Laynie quipped.

  —

  LAYNIE AND KARI SPENT PART OF EVERY DAY with the children except for the day Laynie took Kari sailing.

  “Dad is buying an ad to sell Sammie’s boat after I leave,” Laynie explained. “I’m glad we’re taking her out. One last time.” A wistful sadness settled on her.

  “Um, won’t it get a little cold out on the water? It being January and the middle of winter and all.”

  “Well, sure—this isn’t the Gulf Coast, you know. So we’ll dress for it. Bundle up.”

  Kari had never been sailing and, even though it had been her idea, she was more than a little terrified. “Well, what if, I mean, what if I fall overboard or something.?

  Laynie sent her a superior look. “Spoken like a true landlubber.”

  Then she arched one brow. “Not to worry. The good news is you’ll be wearing a lifejacket and be tethered to the boat. The bad news is I’ll be hauling in a Popsicle.”

  “Gee. So reassuring.”

  —

  LAYNIE AND KARI SAT SIDE-BY-SIDE ON A BENCH in the stern of the boat, lunch and a thermos at their feet, the tiller between them. Kari was impressed by how effortlessly Laynie handled both the tiller and the two sails mounted on a single mast. She used the boat’s motor when they entered and left the locks and managed the small boat as though born to the sea.

  “It’s funny sailing here in January,” Laynie confessed. “I’m usually here in July or August.”

  “You said you could only come once a year. Why is that?”

  She shrugged. “Security concerns. It’s a big deal, transitioning back to the States. Something of a risk. Many precautions. A lot of effort.”

  “Oh.” Kari didn’t know what to say.

  Lord, she must live under such pressure!

  “Don’t know how I’ll spend my next leave with Sammie gone.”

  “Perhaps I’ll make sure to be here when you come. We could spend time with Shannon and Robbie together like we have this week?”

  Laynie, quiet and remote again, nodded. “That would be nice.”

  And then they were in the open water. Laynie, one hand on the tiller, the other on the lines, laughed and sent them racing across the frothing waves of the sound. The little craft, like its name, skipped over the tops of the waves, barely bouncing, and Kari laughed, too.

  They were flying. One with the wind.

  “Sammie and I spent entire days out here,” Laynie shouted. “I thought I would never sail Puget Sound again, especially in his boat.”

  She looked at Kari. “I guess I’m trying to thank you for suggesting this. And I’m glad you’re here with me today.”

  It was while they were sailing in calmer waters off a little island that Kari began telling Laynie of the events of the past three years, beginning with her divorce and the letter from Brunell & Brunell. She told Laynie how she had found a journal in the garage attic of the house she had inherited from Peter Granger.

  “It was written by a woman named Rose Thoresen and covered a period of two years, April 1909 to April 1911. She and her daughter, Joy, had been given a house in Denver they called Palmer House. They rescued women from forced prostitution and brought them to this house where they helped them . . . get their lives back together.”

  “That was very noble of them.”

  “Uh huh.” Kari intentionally steered away from talking about Jesus. For the moment.

  “The way Rose wrote about their work, about the girls and their, er, transformations, caught hold of my heart. I was captivated by Rose’s words, by her life. After I finished reading her journal, I decided I wanted to see if I could find Palmer House.”

  When Laynie had digested those details, she went back to Rose’s journal.

  “So you drove all the way to Denver to see if an old house was still standing?” Laynie wrinkled her forehead. “After how long?”

  “Eighty-some years? I guess I wanted to see the house. You know, with my own eyes, not merely see if it was standing after eighty-some years. And not only was it there, looking exactly as Rose had described it, but someone from Rose’s journal still lived in it.”

  “What? Who?”

  “A woman by the name of Shan-Rose. She was the daughter of one of the girls Rose and Joy had rescued.”

  “So what happened when you found this ‘Palmer House’ and Shan-Rose? She had to have been old when you met her, right?”

  Then Kari began the long, slow telling of how Shan-Rose introduced her to the descendants of Rose’s friends, how they told her about Rose and Joy, and even showed her the grave of Grant Michaels, Joy’s first husband.

  “Then they invited me to see Rose’s homestead in RiverBend, Nebraska. Said that her husband’s relatives would be glad to meet me. It felt odd, but they were so sweet, and I really did want to see Rose’s homestead, so I went.”

  “You went? To stay with strangers?”

  Kari fixed Laynie with an intent look. “My story is going to get a lot ‘stranger’ in a minute, Laynie, and that story is important. To us—to you and me and even Shannon and Robbie.”

  Laynie frowned. “If you say so. Go ahead, then.”

  “All right. So I went to RiverBend and I met a man named Søren Thoresen first. You might say that we ‘ran into each other.’ A bale of hay fell off his truck and landed on my car. I had to stay with Søren, Ilsa, and Max until it was fixed.

  “They put me to work on their farm—mucking out stalls, feeding chickens, milking goats, working the garden and canning—and I stayed more than two weeks. It was nice, actually. Søren showed me their family cemetery. It goe
s back generations. Rose’s grave was there. So was Joy’s and her second husband’s. Even though my visit had started out feeling uncomfortable, I was glad I’d come.”

  Kari sighed. “And then, at the end of the first week, a horde of family and friends showed up. A parking lot’s worth of cars, RVs, and vans drove onto the farm. They set up a huge, white tent, and unloaded a bunch of chairs—like a big family reunion. It was kind of weird.”

  “People just showed up? How many?”

  “Would you believe a couple hundred? Maybe more? Lots of them live in Nebraska and Kansas, more in Colorado. Søren said that when ‘the family’ heard through the grapevine that I’d found Rose’s journal, they all wanted to meet me.”

  “No, now that’s more than weird. All over an old book? I think I would have run for my life.”

  “I might have—except I didn’t have a car and they promised to tell me more about Rose.”

  Laynie wrinkled up her nose. “Dunno. Seems like you are a bit obsessed with this Rose woman.”

  Kari smiled. “Yeah, I guess I am. Well, I should cut to the chase now. This is the important part.

  “Three old gentlemen—who said they were Joy’s sons from her second marriage—sat me down in Søren’s living room with a few other people hanging about. Matthew, the eldest of the three, said they had some of Rose’s family history to tell me, history that I didn’t yet know. Of course, I wanted to hear anything and everything about Rose, so I was keen for him to tell me.

  “First, he asked to see Rose’s journal. When I showed it to him, he and his brothers looked it over and became very emotional. Then they agreed that it was Rose’s writing and gave the journal back to me.

  “Remember that I said Rose’s journal ended in April 1911? Matthew began by saying that on April 12, 1911, Rose had put Joy’s baby son, Edmund, and Mei-Xing’s daughter, Shan-Rose, in a baby buggy and taken them for a walk in a park not far from Palmer House.”

  “Shan-Rose. The woman who lives at Palmer House?”

  “The very same. Rose’s grandson, Edmund, was about three months old. Shan-Rose was a few months older. Are you with me so far?”

  “I think so. Rose, two babies in a buggy. Walk in the park.”