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

by Vikki Kestell

  “Precisely. Working with people, particularly damaged people, is an immense challenge. You are, in essence, suggesting a ministry to wounded, damaged women. The success of such a venture would depend more on spiritually mature leadership than on financing.

  “The leader and his or her staff would need to be seasoned, able to withstand terrific spiritual pressure, already experienced in ministry to abused women. And the leader must have an acknowledged, uncompromising call upon their life to minister in this area. It is not a role for a new Christian.”

  Oskar turned serious eyes upon Kari. “When God gifts and calls a person to such a role, it is generally a life’s vocation, not a passing thing. Do you have such an individual or individuals in mind?”

  Kari turned inward, considering the ring of truth in Oskar’s words.

  What he is suggesting is that I could not lead this venture, that I am not mature enough in the Lord, that I do not have such a call upon my life.

  Kari pondered Oskar’s wise words and arrived at a strange, disconcerting realization. I believe the idea for a Christian women’s shelter came from the Lord, but however he chooses to bring it to pass, I am not the one to lead it. I am more the “Martha Palmer” in this equation than the “Rose.” Or am I more the “Joy”? You gave her the vision to rescue the girls, but it was Rose and her spiritual maturity that made it possible.

  I have something else for you.

  “Oh!” The thought jumped into Kari’s head with such clarity that she started.

  “Kari?”

  “Oh. I, um, I believe the Lord spoke something to me just now. I’ll need to consider it. Pray over it.”

  “Yes. Let’s do pray. I don’t want to discourage you from pursuing your idea, Kari. So, let’s pray about it and continue to flesh out the plan. In the meantime, I’ll look into where the startup funds might come from should you decide to go ahead.”

  Kari nodded. “Thank you.”

  “And now I have some news for you, Kari.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. The probate on Peter Granger’s estate is complete. This means a couple of things for you, and I want you to be clear on them.”

  “All right . . .”

  Oskar smiled, but his smile was tinged with sadness. “The first item, as ordered by the court, concerns ownership of the estate.”

  “You mean Elaine and Samuel’s shares.”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry if this part wounds you, but because your siblings have been missing so long and because there is no way to locate them, the court cannot grant them a share of the estate. To do so would prove too difficult to apportion and manage—in laypersons’ terms, it would hamstring your ownership.

  “So the court has chosen to award all of the estate to you—with the stipulation that, should anyone step forward with a claim, the court will review that claim and make a determination at that time.”

  Kari stared across the room. “I see.”

  “In your heart and actions, Kari, I know you will make sure that the estate is well managed. If Elaine and Samuel are ever located, their portions will not be found lacking.”

  “Thank you, Oskar. I appreciate that.”

  “The other relevant point is this: Now that you have inherited, the estate is no longer Brunell & Brunell’s responsibility to manage. You are free to choose how to manage the entirety of it yourself.”

  “I see no need to make any changes,” Kari murmured. “The estate has obviously thrived in your care.”

  “If you are certain, I will draw up papers for you to sign.”

  “I’m certain.”

  “Then, whatever large decisions you make—for example, to establish and fund the foundation you’ve outlined—can go forward. As we’ve discussed, let’s pray about how to proceed. Does that meet with your approval?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  On her way home, Kari prayed for guidance and wisdom.

  I believe you gave me the idea for a Christian women’s shelter, Lord, but it seems as though you must have someone other than me to lead it?

  She heard the voice in her heart repeat itself.

  I have something else for you.

  She sighed. Well, if you have something else for me, Lord, I’d sure like to know what it is.

  —

  THAT EVENING, KARI CALLED RUTH. They hadn’t spoken in a few weeks, so it took them the better part of an hour to catch up.

  “It’s so good to hear your voice, Ruth,” Kari sighed when they’d exhausted all the news, “and I miss your face!”

  “Me, too, Cookie. Any chance you could jet over here for a weekend?”

  Kari started to shake her head when she had a different idea. She sat up. “Wait. Why don’t you come here? Could you come this Friday? I could use your advice on a scheme I’m cooking up.”

  “Uh, not unless you have a magic carpet. I’ve already blown my budget on a ticket to visit my daughter’s family in New York for Christmas.”

  “Well, let me buy you a ticket to NOLA!”

  Ruth hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “I would love to have you. Say yes?”

  “Only if you’re certain.”

  “Of course I am.”

  —

  KARI IDLED THE CADDY ALONGSIDE THE ARRIVALS AREA and scanned the curb for Ruth. When she saw her friend waving, she pulled forward.

  Ruth dropped her weekender onto the back seat and climbed into the passenger seat. She and Kari embraced briefly and then Kari put the car in gear and merged into the traffic exiting the airport.

  Ruth beamed at Kari. “This is such fun! I never do anything so spontaneous. And the weather here is a bit balmier than Albuquerque’s right now.”

  “We might get some rain, but otherwise, the weekend temps should be perfect.”

  After Azalea fed them a wonderful dinner and left for the day, Kari and Ruth poured themselves coffee and settled in the living room to talk.

  “So you said you were cooking up a new scheme,” Ruth reminded Kari.

  “Oh, yes.” For the next quarter hour, Kari outlined her idea for a foundation that would establish a Christian women’s shelter in New Orleans and train staff and community leaders to minister to victims of domestic violence.

  “The aim would not be only for helping battered women and their children, Ruth. It would point to the root of the problem: that broken families beget more broken families. We would establish Christian study groups and mentorships for the men in these relationships, too—if they were willing to change.

  “If the family can be salvaged, we will work toward that. If it cannot, we will help the women recover and raise their children,” Kari explained,

  “The first shelter would be the prototype, and we would use it to present the Gospel to every woman and child who crosses its threshold. I want to bring Jesus to as many as the Lord allows. Additionally, the women would receive godly counseling and be enrolled in vocational training and a job placement program. We’ll help them get a decent job and then transition them to their own apartment. Then we’ll follow them for a year or longer.

  “After we’ve gotten the NOLA program off the ground, I would like to replicate it in other cities.” Kari smiled at her friend. “I want to name it ‘Palmer Foundation.’ Every shelter would be a Palmer House.”

  Ruth nodded. “That’s perfect. Fitting. Named for Rose and Joy’s work in Denver.”

  “Yes. In a way, it would be the continuation of their work. The details are still rough, and the main need, of course, is leadership—experienced spiritual leadership, leadership that relies upon God’s word and his power.

  “When I was in Denver, I asked my cousin Alannah why the ministry of Palmer House had ended. She said that the new leadership had no idea what the power of God could do, that they relied more upon programs and methods than upon God. For that reason, I don’t think what I have in mind will be effective unless the leader and staff of the program know Jesus really well and depend upon the transform
ing power of the Holy Spirit and God’s word to accomplish the work.”

  Ruth, deep in thought, nodded her agreement.

  Kari continued. “I would head the foundation, but I’m not in a position to be the leader. My role would be primarily financial oversight. I will need the Lord to help me find the right person to actually lead the program. What do you think?”

  Ruth rested her chin upon her hand and studied Kari for a long moment. “Does, um, I mean, is it imperative that the pilot program be in New Orleans?”

  Kari blinked as what Ruth asked sank in. “Are you suggesting . . . are you suggesting Albuquerque?”

  “It’s a smaller city than New Orleans, but the need there is as dire. And I, well—”

  “You! You have the experience and the spiritual maturity! Oh, Ruth—why didn’t I think of it? You would be perfect!”

  Ruth held up her hands. “Let’s not jump the gun. What you’re describing is wonderful, but I won’t commit myself to it until we’ve fleshed out the details and prayed long and hard over them. It would mean big changes for me—a lot more work and a lot more responsibility. I would need to have assurance of the Lord’s direction.”

  “All right,” Kari agreed. “So let’s spend the weekend working out those details and praying over them.”

  “Well not the entire weekend, right?” Under her breath Ruth muttered, “I should have known that free airplane ticket was too good to be true!”

  They laughed together and Kari placed her hand on Ruth’s. “I’m sorry—there’s no rush. Tomorrow I’ll show you the city. When we’re tired of walking, beignets, and café au lait, we can talk some more.”

  “Okay, but now let’s talk about your Christmas guests.” Ruth waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Kari blushed.

  “You mean you want to talk about Søren . . . and me.”

  “Yup. Spill it!”

  Kari giggled and then sighed. “Well, when I was there for Thanksgiving, he did ask me again . . . about us.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I still wasn’t ready, that I wasn’t at peace with the idea yet. That I wasn’t confident about the Lord’s will. He understood and said he could wait, but then he said something about wanting me to be there, on the farm with him and Max, always—and that really threw me for a loop.”

  Ruth frowned. “Hmmm.”

  “Exactly! Later, after I’d thought about it, I told him I couldn’t see myself living there year-round. I-I have a life here, too. And duties.”

  “And this new ministry?”

  “Heavens! I haven’t even mentioned that to him yet.”

  “I don’t know, Cookie. Doesn’t seem like you’re in a position to become a farmer’s wife.”

  Kari’s brows lifted. “It’s not whether I am or am not ‘in a position.’ It’s also not what I want or need right now.

  “It’s been on my mind a lot, and if we were to marry, I think Søren and I should be able to shift back and forth from Louisiana to Nebraska—perhaps spring and summer there, winters here—with me flying into NOLA once or twice a month to manage my responsibilities.”

  She shook her head. “And another thing. Søren is scared of my money. I really hope he can come to accept it as a blessing and not continue to treat it as an inconvenience to be shoved into a closet. Part of my inviting them to spend Christmas with me is to show them my life here. Show them how they could fit in.”

  Ruth shrugged. “Well, times are changing. Many women work outside the home now.”

  She leveled a cautioning glance on Kari. “God himself put you in this unique position. He made you steward over a pretty vast fortune, meaning he has plans for you to use that fortune for his glory. Søren could be a powerful strength to you in that effort—or he could be a real roadblock.

  “I hope Søren is mature and flexible enough to accept you as you are, Kari—and accept the position where God has placed you. If he isn’t, then I hope you are wise enough not to sacrifice yourself. Again.”

  As usual, Ruth was able to put her finger on Kari’s concerns before she herself was able to.

  “Thank you, Ruth, for helping me to clarify my concerns.”

  “No problem. I love you, Chica. Now, I think I’m ready for bed. It’s been a long day.”

  They climbed the stairs and said goodnight, but Ruth’s warning lingered long in Kari’s mind as she tried to drift off to sleep.

  —

  BY THE TIME RUTH LEFT EARLY MONDAY MORNING, her input had added important components to Kari’s plan.

  “We should meet again, right after Christmas,” Kari enthused. “I’ll fly into Albuquerque and we can noodle on this more.”

  “Good grief. Give me a week or two to recover from the grandkids, please! After two weeks with them, I’ll be frazzled.”

  “All right, all right! Mid-January then.”

  “Perhaps I can arrange for you to meet with some of my peers,” Ruth suggested, “other Christians who could be allies. I’d like you to share your vison with them—and I know they would have valuable input.”

  “Yes, that would be a good step in the right direction.”

  Kari went from the airport directly to the Brunell & Brunell offices and spent the morning with Oskar. When she returned home, she glanced at the calendar.

  “This Friday,” she rejoiced. “Søren, Max, and Ilsa will be here this Friday!”

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 13

  KARI HIRED A LIMO TO TAKE HER TO THE NEW ORLEANS AIRPORT. As the driver dropped her at the curb, she left him with instructions to circle the arrivals pick-up zone until she waved him down.

  She scanned incoming flights, hurried toward the gate, and got there as the flight was deplaning.

  There they are!

  Kari walked as fast as she could toward them—and then Max (despite his father’s instructions) came flying toward her. He barreled into Kari, hugging her about her waist.

  “Kari! Kari! Guess what? We flew in over a big ol’ lake an’ almost landed right in it!”

  “Had to have been Lake Pontchartrain. There’s a bridge that goes across that lake. We’ll have to drive over it. It’s the longest bridge in the world.”

  “Wow! This is the best trip ever!” He looked up and grinned. “Gosh, Kari! I’m so glad to see you! Hey! You sure are pretty t’day.”

  “Hay is for horses!”

  Kari and Max giggled, and they hugged again.

  Kari had taken pains with her clothes, hair, and makeup. She admitted to herself that she wanted to look her best for Søren.

  She apparently looked good enough, because as soon as he and Ilsa reached her, Søren pressed a warm kiss upon her cheek and held her tighter than he usually did.

  “You take my breath away,” he whispered.

  Kari blushed and turned toward Ilsa. “I’m so glad you’re here. All of you.”

  Ilsa smiled. “I’m glad we are, too. Søren has been a bear for days. Maybe he’ll calm down now that we’re officially on vacation!”

  While Søren and Max collected the luggage, Ilsa and Kari chatted. Kari couldn’t stop smiling.

  “I’m so excited for you to see my house,” Kari confessed. “It’s too big for one person, especially during the holidays. You guys are going to make this Christmas a happy one for me.”

  “Well, I’d be more than delighted to help you clean and get ready for Christmas. Perhaps do some baking?”

  Kari snorted. “You can help me finalize the decorations, but you’ll have to fight Azalea for the ‘privilege’ of cleaning and baking.”

  “Who?”

  “My housekeeper, Azalea Bodeen.”

  Ilsa’s eyes widened a little. “You have a housekeeper?”

  “And a groundskeeper. His name is Toller Bodeen. He’s Azalea’s son. The Bodeen family has been caretakers of my house for decades.”

  Ilsa looked uneasy. “I won’t know what to do with myself. Neither will Søren.”

  Kari nodded. “Well, you are on
vacation, remember? I have lots of fun activities I can suggest for us over the holiday. And in case you need some work, I will be giving Azalea and Toller a week off, starting Christmas Eve. We’ll have to fend for ourselves for a week.”

  “But still, a housekeeper?”

  “Yeah. Welcome to my world, Ilsa,” Kari whispered.

  —

  SØREN, MAX, AND ILSA CHATTED WITH KARI until she flagged down the limo and it pulled up to the airport’s Arrivals curb. They gawked in silence when the liveried driver stepped out and touched his hat.

  “May I get your bags, sir?” he asked Søren.

  “No, I’ll get them,” was his automatic response.

  Kari placed a soft hand on his arm. “It’s his job, Søren,” she whispered.

  The driver popped the trunk and loaded the bags into it before Søren could recover. Then the driver opened the back door of the long vehicle.

  “Madam?”

  Kari gestured Ilsa toward the door. “There’s plenty of room.”

  Ilsa stepped in, followed by Max. Kari heard Max exclaiming before she followed them. Søren climbed in last and the driver closed the door behind him.

  “Golly, Kari! This is a rich person’s car! Is it yours?” He ran his hand over the leather of the seat that spanned the back and curved to run down one side of the vehicle.

  “No, Max. I hired the car specially to pick you-all up so I wouldn’t have to park and walk to the terminal to fetch you.”

  His eyes were busy exploring the limo’s interior. “What’s that?”

  Kari popped open the refrigerator. “Would you like a soda?”

  Max looked at Søren. “May I, Papa?

  Søren was staring out the window, watching the unfamiliar city fly by. He turned and swept his gaze around the car’s interior, taking in the long, curving seat, the television, the phone, the stemware, the refrigerator.

  “Sure, Son.” He looked out the window again. Kari could feel distress bleeding from him.

  He’s completely out of his element, Lord. Please help him.

  When they arrived at the house, Kari waited for the driver to open their door. When he did, again touching the brim of his hat, Kari followed Søren out of the limo. She saw Søren, and then Ilsa and Max, stare at her house; she watched them take in its size, the chiseled pink stone, the slate roof, the pale gold pillars and the decorative wrought iron surrounding the wide front porch.