Jonathan turned to look at Jenny’s face. “Do you think the same thing has happened to me?”
Jenny paused. “In a way, yes. When you became a Christian, you understood that the church doesn’t save us. Only Jesus can do that. But there were other parts of your life that you found difficult to surrender to God—your love for music, your gifts as a songwriter. You never sold your guitar, and sometimes I would hear you out in the barn playing softly so no one would hear you.”
Jonathan grinned. “You heard me?”
“Yes, dearest. I never said anything because, truthfully, I love that part of you. I love your songs and your wonderful voice. It was your song that led me to you when I found you again in that nightclub. So I let you have your little secret.”
Jenny smiled with the memory. Then she went on. “I think that may have been what the Lord was reaching for in your life—to surrender everything to Him so that if you did play music it would only be for His glory, or even to set it down altogether so that there would be no idols in your life that were above Him.”
Jonathan’s brow furrowed as he thought about what Jenny said. “So you think He might have let me live as Richard Sandbridge for all those years so I could see what my life would be like if my dreams came true?”
“Were you happy then?”
“No, Jenny. Even when I had hit songs and lots of money, I was never happy. There was always something missing—something that, if I could have found it, I would have traded everything for it.”
“Like the pearl of great price that was found in the field?”
“Yes, Jenny, exactly. And when you came back to me at that nightclub, when all my dreams were coming true, I wanted nothing more than to put it all down and come home. This, this farm, this land, this is who I am. And you and Rachel are worth more to me than all the gold records in the world. But sometimes I get frightened.”
“When you have the dream?”
“Yes, the dream. I’m lost and floating on the sea. I’m clinging to a piece of wood and the waves are crashing on me, and all I want to do is come home, to sit by the fire with my wife beside me and my little girl on my lap.”
Jenny put her arms around Jonathan. “So maybe the Ordnung are like that piece of wood that you clung to all those days in the ocean. And perhaps that is why you are so strict—because the Ordnung are like a life preserver for you. They keep you centered in this life and hold the wicked world at bay.”
“Yes, Jenny, you are probably right.”
“So even if they are that way for you, maybe they are not that way for Rachel?”
Jonathan thought for a moment. “So I am forcing my fears on Rachel?”
“I cannot tell you that for sure, Jonathan, but from my own observation, it appears that way.”
Jonathan stood up and went to the window. Outside, the air was bursting with the clean, strong smell of the fields—his fields. All around the house, stretching off into the distance, the first growth of the spring planting was beginning to show green against the brown earth. Jonathan saw a small bird sitting in a tree. It had black feathers on its topknot but brilliant yellow underneath. It trilled a short song and then flitted away.
That was an Oriole. I’ve never seen one on the farm before.
A spring breeze shook the pink flowers on the plum trees and the soft petals drifted down in a magical shower. The clouds above were showing golden and pink as the day began to grow around them.
“I think I understand what you are saying. I will try to remember, but sometimes it is so hard, Jenny. I will be working at something around the farm, and then I’ll be staring at the tool in my hands, wondering how to use it. It’s as though I’m standing outside my body, observing me and wondering what I am doing. Thoughts come to me and I can’t unlock them, and I know that if I could just get back inside me, everything would be all right again.”
“I know you struggle, Jonathan. The doctors have told me that you still suffer from the effects of your amnesia and your injuries. They could not tell me if you would ever be well, but I am trusting the Lord for that. I know that one day you will be healed, and until then, I will care for you and love you always, looking for that day with joy and hope.”
Jonathan turned back to Jenny and pulled her up into his arms. The smell of her was like a beacon in a black night, the feel of her body pressed against him was like a breath of air to a drowning man.
“I am so grateful for you, my darling Jenny. I am also praying that I will be healed from this. I just hope I don’t drive Rachel away before I am.”
Chapter Five
The Search
Gordon Randall sat comfortably in the chair across the desk from Augusta St. Clair. He had a manila folder open on his lap and was looking at a few sheets of paper in front of him. A crooked smile broke the harsh contours of his hawk-like features.
“So what have you found out, Randall?” Augusta asked sweetly, though Randall doubted there was an ounce of sweetness in the woman’s whole being.
“You’ve probably heard most of this before, Mrs. St. Clair, but I’m going to go through it, just to bring you up to speed.”
Augusta leaned back and folded her hands in her lap, with the fingers intertwined. “Go ahead.”
“As you know, Augusta, your brother-in-law, Robert, married a young girl on September 14, 1946. At that time, he was living in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, running his father’s airplane factory. The girl’s maiden name was Rachel Mary Borntraeger. It’s on the marriage certificate I obtained from the county records. Rachel Borntraeger was born in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, May 12, 1928. She wasn’t born in a hospital. The records state that a midwife filed the birth certificate. I have the certificate here. She was eighteen years old when she married Robert St. Clair. Robert was twenty-six. Robert and Rachel had one child, Jennifer Constance St. Clair, also born in Lancaster County, in January of 1947. Rachel Borntrager’s parents were Abel and Eliza Borntraeger. They are both deceased. The interesting thing in all of this is that Rachel was Amish.”
“Amish. Yes, I heard that from my mother-in-law. Robert alienated his father by marrying against his wishes and outside our faith. When Robert told Max that he had gotten the girl pregnant and he was going to marry her, Max, my father-in-law, told Robert to get the baby taken care of and dump the girl, but Robert refused. Max believed that Rachel Borntraeger had deliberately failed to take the necessary precautions in order to hook a wealthy young man into marriage. Max never forgave Robert, even though Robert asked many times to bring the woman and the child home to visit. Margaret, my mother-in-law, was heartbroken, of course. She loved children. She was such a sentimental old fool.”
Augusta paused. “I met the girl, you know.”
Randall was surprised. “When was that, Mrs. St. Clair?”
“In the spring of 1950. It was after Robert was killed in the car wreck. A few months later, a young woman showed up on the doorstep of the city house with a toddler in tow. She said her name was Rachel St. Clair and the youngster was Robert’s child. She wanted to see Max or Margaret. Max had passed by then and Margaret was getting senile. I felt it was my duty to protect her from gold diggers and riff-raff, so I sent them away.”
Randall made a note on one of the sheets of paper. “Uh-huh. And then what happened?”
“The woman persisted in contacting us. She came to the house a second time and I had the police escort her off the property and give her a warning as to what would happen if she continued disturbing us.”
“Did she stop?”
“No, she was very tenacious. She called again and informed our butler that she had documentary proof that she and Robert were married and the baby was Robert’s. I refused to see her or let her bother Margaret. I was only fulfilling my responsibility as a dutiful daughter-in-law.”
Randall grinned, although the grin was hardly friendly. “Can I be blunt, Augusta?”
“Speak your mind, Randall.”
“According to the research
I had done on you privately, you were never a dutiful daughter-in-law. The truth is, you are not who you pretend to be. Contrary to your claims that you are descended from Russian royalty, you are a lower middle-class girl, the former Francine Bosnan, who married into a fortune, and you have been protecting your hard-won position ever since.”
Augusta scowled. “Duvigney knew about me, too. You people have excellent sources. Somehow my life has become an open book.”
Randall went on. “It’s my guess you knew exactly who this girl was, and you were quite aware she represented a threat to your status in the family. I assume you took swift and determined action against Rachel Borntraeger St. Clair.”
A look of mock dismay crossed Augusta’s face. “Why, Randall! How can you accuse me of such a thing?”
Randall laughed. “You can stop blowing smoke in my ear, Augusta. Just tell me what you did to the girl so I can get on with this investigation.”
Augusta shifted uncomfortably in her chair and tried glowering at Randall. He didn’t bite. Finally, she spoke. “I sent the police to her hotel to find the alleged proof of her marriage to Robert.”
“By police, do you mean the cops you own in the Manhattan NYPD?”
Augusta pulled herself erect and glared at Randall. “It is important for a family of our stature to have connections in the right places. We must cover all our bases, you know.”
“Uh-huh. And what happened when you sent the boys round to steal the documents?”
“Well, I never...” Augusta snorted.
Randall laughed again. “Yes, you did. So what happened?”
“They found some evidence, photos of Robert and the girl, things of that nature—but no wedding or birth certificates. She must have hidden them somewhere.”
Randall looked at his notes. “And what other punitive action did you take?”
“What makes you think I took further action?”
Randall sighed, put the notes back into the folder, and started to get up.
“Where are you going, Randall?”
“Look, I don’t have time to play games with you. I know how you operate. Now just give me the facts or I’ll have to go. I have other clients, you know.”
A flash of anger crossed Augusta’s face. “How dare you speak to me in that manner? You’re playing a dangerous game with me, Randall. I can have you taken care of with a phone call.”
Randall put his hands on the desk, palms down, and leaned forward. “Augusta, don’t try threatening me. Maybe you’ve forgotten how this works. Sure you can have me beat up, or even killed. But if you attempt such a course of action, there are certain files that would be immediately sent to the police and the feds. You’re in way too deep with me. And you should know that along with a record of our activities, there are certain incriminating materials I’ve gathered and retained in the course of my employment with you. I’m very sure you would not want those materials to be made public. So let’s just play nice. What did you do to the girl?”
Augusta shifted stiffly in her chair and smiled at Randall again. She motioned for Randall to sit back down. “Point taken, Randall. All right. I had the woman put out of the hotel. My men watched her until she took up with a heroin dealer named Joseph Bender. She stayed with him for a few months. Then Bender and his brother were involved in a bank robbery. The brother was captured during the holdup but Joseph Bender escaped. Sammy Bender ended up in Sing Sing. Joseph Bender disappeared. When he left, I assume he took Rachel St. Clair and the baby with him, because they never returned to Bender’s apartment. I was unable to track him down.
Augusta got up and went to the bay window and looked out for a moment. Then she turned and sat on the oversized sill. “My people talked to Bender’s mother but she said she didn’t know anything. In all the years since then, I have never heard from Rachel again. Since no heirs had come forward in forty years, I was sure that my claim to the estate would be undisputed. Now the board of trustees has informed me that only an heir in the line of an oldest son can inherit the principal trust, which represents billions of dollars. That’s how the fortune came to Max, Robert’s father, and it would have come to Robert if he had lived.”
“Can it be inherited by a female?”
“Duvigney told me that it can be inherited by a woman but only if she has the Key, and she can be only two generations away from the elder son. If the older son leaves no heirs, the trust is held for fifty years and then a younger son or the son of another branch of the St. Clair family would be nominated as the principal heir.”
“What is the Key?”
“It’s a birthmark that has passed genetically down from the first St. Clair. It’s a key-shaped red mark above the heart.”
“So let me get this straight, Augusta. The daughter of Robert St. Clair or his granddaughter or grandson could inherit but only if they had this Key?”
“Yes. Duvigney informed me that it is the one irrefutable proof.”
“And what about Gerald?”
“At this point, he could not inherit, being the second generation of a younger brother, my husband, Jerod. Robert died forty-four years ago. There are six years left and then another son or a grandson, in this case, Gerald, would come into the line, but there are conditions. Gerald would be the heir, but he would not receive the money. He would have to marry and have a son, and his son could only inherit when he reached maturity.”
“Why the long gap in determining another heir?”
Augusta smiled. “They didn’t want the boys killing each other for the money.”
“So unless Robert’s wife is still alive, the little girl that came to the house in New York with her is the heir, if she has the Key?”
“Yes, she or Robert’s grandchildren, if there are any.”
“Why don’t you just find the wife and Robert’s little girl and eliminate them so that Gerald could be in line for the inheritance?”
Augusta got up from the window bench and returned to her desk chair. “You don’t seem to understand, Randall. Gerald would not come into the line for another six years. But only Gerald’s son can inherit, and he can only inherit after he reaches twenty-one. Gerald doesn’t have a son. I’m sixty-eight now. That’s twenty-five years, if he had a son tomorrow, which he won’t. I’ll probably be moldering in the grave, or so old I wouldn’t even know what money is, if and when Gerald or his heirs get any money. I can’t wait for the fools on the board of trustees to dilly-dally around. I want that money, and I want it now!”
“So if I find Robert’s wife or daughter, what are you going to do with her?”
Augusta scowled. “First of all, I don’t think you will find Rachel St. Clair. She was very determined to prove that she was Robert’s wife, but I have not heard a thing from her for forty years. I believe that she is dead. As for the little girl, she may be alive and if she is, I need you to find her.”
“Why is it so important for you to have all that money, Augusta?”
Augusta’s face narrowed and she pursed her lips. “I want it because I want it. The St. Clairs have always treated me as a second-class citizen, even though I married one of their precious sons. It will do my old heart good to take all their money and see them come begging to replenish their trusts and pay their bills.”
Randall considered Augusta’s words. “The only solution is to find the girl. If she is still alive, she should be about forty-three years old. But it won’t be easy. You met her in 1950. That was forty years ago. A lot has happened since then.”
“Randall, you are the only hope I have in this situation. We must find that girl. If we can, then we’ll go from there.”
“You say the man that Rachel St. Clair ended up with was Joseph Bender?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know about the bank Robbery?”
“Well...”
“Augusta?”
“All right. I paid Bender a monthly stipend to keep the woman addicted to drugs. He reported to my contacts, without knowing that t
he St. Clair family was involved. He just knew that someone wanted the girl out of the way. Then he disappeared with Rachel St. Clair, and I never heard from him again.”
“What about the brother?”
“Sammy Bender was sentenced to Sing Sing prison for shooting a bank guard and a teller in the holdup. My contacts have the information.”
Randall put his notes back into the folder and slipped it into the leather briefcase next to his chair. He closed the latch and stood up. “I will need to speak to your contacts. You have my number, so have them call me today. In the meantime, I will go to Pennsylvania and see if I can find any Borntraegers that might know of Rachel or her daughter’s whereabouts. And I will check with Bender’s brother. I must tell you, Augusta, that this will not be easy.”
“If you can solve this, Randall, I guarantee you’ll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.”
Randall smiled unpleasantly. “Augusta, you just said the magic words.”
Randall turned and walked to the door. Augusta stared after him.
Randall stopped and looked back. “I hope I live to spend it, Augusta, for your sake.”
Then the door closed behind him.
*****
The private line on Michel Duvigney’s desk rang once and then stopped. Duvigney pulled a notebook from his pocket, checked a number, and then dialed it. It rang twice, and then a cold voice answered.
“Randall speaking.”
“You have some information for me?”
“Yes. I spent some time with Augusta today and will be following some leads she gave me. It will be hard but not impossible to find the girl. I’ll be making a call on a source tomorrow. Hopefully, they’ll give me some information that will set me on the right track.”
“‘Hopefully’, is not a word in my lexicon, Randall. Either you can find the heir or not. There are a great many issues pressing the point here, Randall. They go far beyond the disgusting St. Clair woman’s desire to get her hands on the estate. She is the lesser daughter of a Yugoslavian car mechanic, even though she pretends to be descended from wealthy stock. It would be a shameful thing if the old tart got her hands on the trust. And there are other issues.”
The Amish Heiress (The Paradise Chronicles Book 1) Page 4
