“How does that affect Rachel?”
“Augusta St. Clair has a grandson, Gerald. From what Randall said—actually didn’t say—Gerald would be a suitable male St. Clair.”
“So, if Rachel married him, she would become wealthy?”
“Yes, Jonathan, very wealthy. And that is why we must not tell her.”
As she stood outside, listening to her parents, Rachel felt a great knot forming in her chest. She could not believe that her parents were conspiring to deceive her. This was her life they were deciding. She was about to open her mouth and say something, but in that moment she felt the card in her hand. She turned and, being very quiet, walked back down the hallway and held it up in the light.
Gordon Randall
12 Plaza Way,
New York, NY 213-342-1200
Rachel felt something else rise up in her. It was a mixture of hope and fear. This was her way out! She was the heiress to a vast fortune. She could come forward and claim it, and then she could do anything she wanted with her life. No more Papa yelling at her, no more elders of the church telling her what she could or couldn’t do. She could pay her own way through school and set up her veterinary practice wherever she wanted. It was like a miracle.
And yet, there had been something about the man’s eyes that troubled Rachel. She sensed that he was very wicked. But still... As the prospects began to spin in her mind, as the reality of who she was and what she could have, merely by revealing herself, came into focus, something in Rachel’s heart hardened.
In that moment, she made a fateful choice. She would leave here; she would leave this Amish life with all its rules and regulations, the hateful Ordnung that bound her with fetters of steel. She would escape from her papa’s insanity, his moods and rages. This was her way out. As she stood there in the hallway, a great battle began to rage in Rachel’s soul. She thought of her mama and her home, all the things that she loved...and... Daniel.
Daniel? He’s just a friend. I could never marry Daniel.
And yet there was something, like a light trying to force its way into a very dark place.
Daniel! He loves me. He loves me with all his heart. Daniel...
For just another moment she hesitated. And then Rachel shut the door of her heart and walked down the hall to her room, clutching Gordon Randall’s business card.
Chapter Thirteen
Who Am I?
Rachel sat on her bed for a long time staring at the wall, thinking. The light outside began to fade, and slowly the room darkened. But still, Rachel sat. She had just made a pivotal decision for her life, and yet, strangely, she felt drained and empty. She had expected to feel release and joy. Instead, her heart was heavy. She had turned a bend in the road of her life, and, right or wrong, she knew she must go on. She heard her mama calling her to dinner, but she did not answer. The gathering dusk shadowed the room and still she sat, thinking ...staring.
After a while, there was a soft knock on the door.
“Rachel, are you coming to dinner?”
“I...I’m not hungry, Mama. I don’t feel well, and I think I will just go to bed.”
“Are you sure, my darling?”
Rachel started to snap a sharp reply, but she bit her tongue. It wasn’t her mama who made her crazy. After a moment, Jenny walked away from the door. Rachel slipped out of her clothes and climbed into her bed. She lay there for a while, feeling the softness of the sheets and the warmth of her quilt.
My bed... When I’m rich, I’ll have a hundred beds to go in the big house I will buy.
And then a thought came across her mind.
The love of money is the root of all evil!
Rachel’s eyes popped open.
I didn’t think that. Who...?
And again, like a still small voice...
For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.
Rachel sat up. The room was dark and still. She waited, holding her breath. Someone lingered in the room—at least it seemed like it. She had heard a voice. She spoke into the darkness.
“Who’s there?”
No servant can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.
A chill went down Rachel’s back and she pulled the covers up over her head.
I don’t want to listen. I’ve made up my mind. That’s all there is to it, so don’t try to convict me anymore. I don’t need You.
The silence pressed down on her. Rachel’s heart sank. She spoke into the darkness.
“Wait, I didn’t mean that. I...I just want to live my own life. Can’t You understand?”
But no answer came, only the mournful cooing of a dove in the oak tree outside her window.
*****
When Rachel awoke, dawn’s light was creeping through the window. A soft breeze swept in through the partly opened window, heralding another perfect morning in Paradise. The lace curtains fluttered softly. Rachel lay still for a long moment, enjoying the soft scent of lilacs blooming in the yard outside. Then she remembered the previous night, and a little stab of fear touched her heart.
I need to talk to Mama.
Rachel got up and dressed. She washed her face and then brushed her hair and twisted it into a bun. She slipped on her kappe and then looked in the mirror.
Maybe I won’t be wearing these plain clothes much longer.
The thought pressed against her mind like a headache. She went down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her mama was cleaning up some dishes from the table. Jenny brushed some errant curls from her forehead and smiled as Rachel came in the room.
“Gut mariye, dochter. Are you feeling better?”
“Gut mariye. Yes, Mama. I’m fine.”
Rachel stood silently watching her mama, the weight of her presence demanding a response. Finally, Jenny put the rest of the dishes into the sink and turned to her daughter.
“What is it, Rachel?”
“Is Papa here?”
“No, he is already out in the fields. Why?”
“Mama, I need to ask you some questions, but I don’t want Papa listening in. He would just interrupt.”
“We have some time, Rachel. Sit down. Would you like some coffee?”
Rachel slipped into her chair.
“Yes, that would be nice.”
Jenny poured two mugs and then sat down across from Rachel.
“So, what is it you need to know, Rachel?”
Rachel pulled her sleeve and looked down and then blurted out her question.
“Who am I, Mama?”
Rachel could see that she had ambushed her mother with the question.
Jenny paled. “What do you mean?”
“I want to know who I am, Mama. I heard you and Papa talking yesterday. I heard you say that you would never tell me what you were talking about. It made me angry, and then it made me sad that you would hide something from me.”
Jenny looked at her daughter for a long time and then sighed.
“You are right, Rachel. It is not right for me to keep secrets from you. You are nearly grown. I am sorry.”
“If you are sorry, you will tell me what you were talking about.”
Jenny poured a little cream into her coffee and stirred it. Then she took a deep breath and began to speak. “We were talking about your grandfather.”
“You mean Grossdaadi Reuben?”
“No, Rachel, my birth father, Robert St. Clair.”
“You have never told me anything about that side of your family except that you named me after Mama Rachel Borntraeger and that she married an Englischer.”
“Yes. Rachel Borntraeger St. Clair. That was her married name. She was born here on this farm, just like you were. She grew up in Paradise and then when she was eighteen she met Robert St. Clair and fell in love. She became pregnant out of wedlock and her f
ather, my Grossdaadi Borntraeger, who was a Bisschop, put her under the meidung because she would not give up Robert.”
Rachel knew the answer to her next question, but she asked it anyway. She wanted to hear it from Jenny. “And who are the St. Clairs?”
“The St. Clairs are a very wealthy family, one of the wealthiest in America. They live in New York.”
Rachel pushed harder. “And why have I never known anything about them?”
Jenny frowned and then stood up. “Come with me, Rachel, I want to show you something.”
She led the way back upstairs and down the hall to her writing room. The two women went in and Jenny shut the door. Jenny went to the shelves and pulled down a manila envelope. Inside it was a small blue book. It was one of those books with empty pages that can be used for a diary or a journal. Rachel had never seen the book before. Jenny opened the book and showed it to Rachel. About half the pages were torn out.
“This was your Grossmutter Rachel’s journal. It was given to me by Magdalena Bender, the mother of the man who was responsible for Mama Rachel’s death.”
On the inside cover, someone had written something at the top, but Rachel couldn’t read it because it had been crossed out so thoroughly that it was illegible. Under that, written in neat cursive, was a name. The name was Rachel St. Clair. Rachel stared at the little blue book. The handwriting was strong and smooth, evenly spaced and written in cursive letters that slanted slightly to the right. The book was obviously a journal or a diary of some sort, because the entries were dated. Rachel read the first one.
April 23, 1950.
Today I arrived in New York with Jenny. I have a little bit of money and got a room in a hotel in Manhattan. The room is tiny and smells of cigarettes, but it will have to do. Jenny has been awfully fussy. I know she misses Robert very much. Tomorrow I will go to see Robert’s parents. Robert told me where they live. It’s in someplace called the Upper East Side, right on the East River. I hope they are as kind as Robert said. Surely they will love their granddaughter and want to help her. Robert, I miss you so much, too.
*****
Rachel was puzzled. “What happened to Robert, Mama?”
“Robert was killed in an accident when I was three years old. That was why Mama Rachel went to New York. She wouldn’t go back to her family because she was afraid they would reject her again. So she went to see if the St. Clairs would help.”
Jenny pulled a stack of sheets out of the envelope. “These are pages that were torn out of the journal. When we were searching for my mother, we tracked her to the motel in Stroudsburg where she died. The police never identified the body so everything, including her suitcase was in storage in a cold file. We got the suitcase when we proved that the dead woman they found was Rachel St. Clair. There was a secret compartment in the suitcase and Jonathan found these pages where Grossmutter Rachel hid them to keep Augusta St. Clair from finding them.”
“How did Rachel die, Mama?”
“She overdosed on heroin. The man who was with her, Joe Bender, took me and left for California. On the way, he crashed his car in Apple Creek and drowned when he fell through the ice on a frozen pond. Mama Jerusha found me in the wrecked car and saved me.”
“Why would Mama Rachel want to hide the pages from Augusta St. Clair?”
Jenny took the top sheet from the pile of pages.
“Let me read some more.”
April 24, 1950.
This morning I took the streetcar from the hotel up to Fifth Avenue to see Robert’s parents. I found the address in his papers. It was difficult, but I finally got to the house. It’s enormous! It sits right on a big park. The streetcar man said the name of the park is Central Park. My heart was pounding when I went up to the door. There was a big knocker so I knocked with that and after a while a young woman in a black and white uniform came and answered the door. I told her who I was and who Jenny was and that I wanted to see Robert’s parents. She looked very surprised. She told me to wait and closed the door. After a while another young woman came to the door. She said her name was Augusta and she asked me what I wanted. I told her who I was and she smiled a strange smile at me. I asked if I could see Robert’s parents, but she was very cold and suspicious. She told me that Robert’s father had died shortly after he heard about Robert’s accident, and his mother was in seclusion and would not see anyone. I told her about Jenny and she laughed at me. She said that I was just another fortune hunter who had heard about the family’s tragedy and wanted to cash in. She told me to go away and then she closed the door in my face. I knocked again, but no one came. After a while I went back to the hotel. Tomorrow I will take the proof and show her.
Jenny read on.
April 25, 1950.
Today I took the papers and went back to the house with Jenny. Instead of a girl in a uniform, a big man in a black suit answered the door. He told me that Miss Augusta had warned him that I would be coming back and he told me to go away. I begged him to let me see Robert’s mother, but he told me if I didn’t go away he would call the police. Then he closed the door. I knocked and knocked. After a while a car pulled up in front of the house and two men got out. They didn’t say anything to me. They just put me in the car and drove away from the house. Finally, one of them asked me where I lived. I told him the name of the hotel and they took me there. When I got out, they warned me that if I went back to the house I would be arrested and put in jail. Robert! Why did you leave me? I need you!
May 5, 1950.
For the last week I have been trying to call Robert’s parents, but every time I get the house, whoever answers, hangs up on me. Finally, yesterday they told me that if I ever called again, they knew where I was staying, and they would send the police and take my little girl away and put me in jail. My money is almost all gone, and the man at the hotel told me I have one more day to pay him. God, why have you abandoned me in this horrible place? I feel so hopeless. I wish I had listened to my daed. I miss them all so much, but I can never go home. What can I do?
May 6, 1950.
Today something frightening happened. While I went to a restaurant with Jenny to get something to eat, someone came into my room. It was very odd because the door was not broken and the windows were locked. I knew someone came in because all of Robert’s papers were gone. I have the most important ones hidden, though, and they didn’t find them. I think that the woman, Augusta, sent someone to my room to make sure I couldn’t prove anything. I had my diary in my purse so they didn’t get it, but I’m going to take the pages about Robert out and hide them, too. Maybe I can find a way to see Robert’s mother.
Jenny stopped for a moment. Rachel looked up and saw with surprise that her mama was crying. Jenny wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
“There is one more entry. Let me read it.”
May 10, 1950.
I have been out on the streets since the two men came with the hotel man and put me out. They said that Robert’s parents sent them and they would take Jenny away forever if I didn’t get out of New York. One of them slapped me very hard and told me it was a warning. I’ve been sleeping under the stairs behind an apartment building. Today I met a man named Joe. He said he would let us stay in his apartment and that he would help me, too.
Jenny put down the stack of pages. “That’s all there is. Shortly after that, Mama Rachel was with Joe Bender when he robbed a bank. The robbery went wrong but Joe and Rachel escaped. I was with them. On their way west, Rachel died. I have never told you this story because it is so terrible. I should have but I didn’t think you needed to know it.”
Rachel still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around what she had heard. “So, this Augusta St. Clair...”
“Augusta St. Clair did everything she could to prevent Rachel from meeting my grandmother, Robert’s mother. She did nothing to help Rachel. In fact, she sent the police to harass Rachel, and finally had her put out on the street. After I read this, it was many years before I could bring myself to find grace for th
e things she did to my mother. That’s why I never told you about her.”
Rachel reached in her pocket and pulled out the business card. “I met this man when he was leaving here yesterday. Who is he?”
Jenny took the card. “This man works for Augusta St. Clair. He is a very bad man. Bobby warned me about him. He is a professionally trained killer and he means us no good. Whatever you do, you must not contact him.”
Rachel took a deep breath. “When were you going to tell me about the Key, Mama?”
Chapter Fourteen
Rachel’s Choice
Rachel stared at her mama’s face. The question lay between them like shards of broken glass. Jenny put her head down, sighed, and then looked back at Rachel. “You heard Papa and me talking, then?”
“Yes, Mama. You were talking about the Key. And there was something about the St. Clair fortune. What did it mean?”
“The Key is a birthmark that the legitimate heir to the St. Clair fortune must have. It is key-shaped and red.”
Rachel reached to her blouse and unbuttoned it. She opened the top. There above her breast, over her heart, was a key-shaped red birthmark. “Does it look like this, Mama?”
Jenny put her face in her hands and slowly nodded. “I never wanted you to ever be involved with the St. Clairs, but I did not know what that birthmark meant until the man named Randall came to see me. I didn’t know, Rachel, I swear it.”
“But, what did he say about it?”
“Whoever has that birthmark is a legitimate heir to the St. Clair fortune. Your grandfather, my father, Robert, had it. He was in line to inherit his father’s fortune, but he was killed before he did. My understanding is that the bulk of Robert’s money was put into trust when he died. Randall didn’t tell me, but I believe that Augusta St. Clair never told the estate about me. She just let them believe that Robert died without an heir. From my birth mother’s journal, it seems clear that Augusta told my grandmother that Mama Rachel was a stranger who heard about Robert dying and was just after his money. Robert’s father never accepted me as his granddaughter and he must not have told anyone about me. Augusta did her best to see that Robert’s mother never saw me.”
The Amish Heiress (The Paradise Chronicles Book 1) Page 10
