Lost Are Found (A Prairie Heritage, Book 6)

by Vikki Kestell

  Safely in her room, Kari picked up the phone. “Ruth? I’m here at last.”

  Ruth’s happy voice on the other end of the line was infectious. Knowing she was only a few minutes away from Ruth caused Kari’s smile to grow into a grin.

  “May I take you to dinner this evening? Yes; my treat. How about the Ranchers Club?”

  The Ranchers Club of New Mexico was one of Albuquerque’s finer restaurants, known for its ambiance and service as well as food. Ruth’s voice on the other end signaled her enthusiastic approval and they made arrangements to meet at six.

  Kari showered and changed into one of her new simple but elegant outfits—beige slacks and a beige, cream, and gold top. The outfit hung just right, emphasizing her tall, slim figure, and it breathed, so that Kari felt cool even in the heat of the early evening. She added a wide gold chain and gold earrings.

  As Kari brushed out her long hair, she silently thanked Lorene again for insisting on taking Kari to have her hair styled. The cut framed her face perfectly, and her earrings gleamed and dangled just a little, subtly complementing the golden shimmers in her hair.

  When it was time, Kari went down to the lobby and waited for the valet to bring her car. Now in familiar territory, she drove away from the hotel, caught I-25 down to the interchange of I-25 and I-40 (known locally as the Big I), and exited just beyond, to make her way back toward the Ranchers Club.

  She was just about to hand her keys to the waiting valet when someone called her name.

  “Kari?” The voice of the man who spoke her name was incredulous.

  Kari froze. She didn’t need to see him to know who it was.

  David.

  She turned toward him. He and Beth Housden were standing arm-in-arm just outside the restaurant. Both of them were gawking.

  What are the odds? Kari asked herself cynically. Well, fine. We’ll just get this bit of unpleasantness over with and I won’t need to fear it in the future.

  Kari smiled a tight, uncomfortable smile. “Hello, David. Hello, Beth.”

  Beth Housden’s eyes narrowed and she screwed up her mouth as she looked Kari up one side and down the other. “You’re looking . . . different, Kari.” The cattiness of her comment was unmistakable.

  “Yes. You look fabulous, Kari!” David had forgotten the woman at his side. He blinked as if to clear his vision.

  Kari remembered then how much her clothes and hairstyle had altered her appearance. Suddenly she felt confident. And she didn’t miss the moment David’s eyes slipped past her to rest on her Caddy.

  “Is that your car?”

  Kari forgot who she was speaking to for a moment. She turned her eyes on her car and grinned. “Oh, it is! Isn’t it sweet? A 1959 Cadillac Coupe de Ville convertible. I’ve just driven it up from New Orleans.”

  David’s eyes popped. “Wow. Is it ever! But how did—”

  If possible, Beth Housden’s mouth shriveled further as she interrupted David. “It was so nice seeing you, Kari.” She pulled on David’s arm. “But, we need to be going. Now, darling.”

  David nodded, hesitating. He looked at Kari once more before he gave in to Beth’s tugging. “It was nice seeing you, Kari. Really.”

  Was that regret she saw? Kari wasn’t sure. She handed her keys to the waiting valet and watched, dispassionately, as David and Beth walked across the parking lot to David’s car.

  Funny. Watching David walk away with another woman doesn’t even faze me.

  David had left her more than a year ago now. The last time she had seen her former husband was at the divorce proceedings in January. It was now mid-July. Six months had passed.

  He looks the same; he hasn’t changed, Kari mused. And then she knew: But I have.

  She strolled up to the restaurant’s hostess, inhaling deeply, glad of the trial she had just passed, and more glad of the revelation she had received.

  Yes! Somehow I’ve changed, she rejoiced, and I’m changing still!

  In the softer light of the restaurant Kari spied Ruth’s happy, dimpled face and her heart leapt. Oh, thank you for this dear, dear friend, she rejoiced.

  Again, it dawned on her. Just who am I thanking?

  Over the next week Kari visited often with Ruth and once with Anthony and Gloria Esquibel. She made a point of giving Anthony a check that would clear her account with Esquibel Investigative Services in full. She added $1,000 as a bonus.

  “You don’t need to do this,” Anthony expostulated.

  Kari hugged him. “I want to, Anthony. No, I need to. I would not have survived this last year if it hadn’t been for you and Gloria taking me in, taking me under your wings . . . introducing me to Ruth. This check is little in comparison to what you and Gloria have done for me.”

  That gesture opened Kari’s eyes to some of the benefits of her new circumstances. I can help others, she realized. I could help a lot of ‘others’!

  Ruth suggested one way she could help. “What will you do with your other car, Kari?”

  “The Reliant? Sell it, I guess.”

  “Well, if you don’t dearly need the money, may I offer an alternative?”

  Without naming names, Ruth described a client of hers. “She’s just come out of an abusive marriage and has two small children to support. Her husband left her with the rent unpaid and without a vehicle.”

  Kari didn’t even need to think about it. How long ago was I without hope for my future? She remembered her depression and fears all too well.

  “Can I give the Reliant to her, Ruth? Will that help?”

  “More than you know, Kari.”

  On her second day in Albuquerque she also went to her storage unit and opened it up, thinking she would sort through its contents. Instead she considered the remnants of her old life and recognized that she no longer needed any of it.

  Nor would she be returning to Albuquerque to live.

  She’d gone to look at their old house, hers and David’s, and found that the new owners had already made drastic changes to the landscaping she had struggled so hard to do on her own.

  It’s nice, Kari admitted. Nicer than what I’d done. And she let go of the house again, this time for good and without regrets.

  Now she knew that she needed nothing of what she’d left in Albuquerque except her papers. She found the short file cabinet right where Anthony had said it would be.

  I need a box, she thought. No, a couple of boxes. Not large ones; just two good, sturdy boxes.

  She re-locked the storage unit and drove to a U-Haul rental store. There she bought two boxes to hold the contents of the file cabinet.

  When she returned to the storage unit she unloaded the file cabinet into the boxes—her birth certificate, adoption papers, employment and job search records, letters of recommendation, tax returns, divorce papers, and a mostly empty scrapbook containing the paltry news clippings reporting her parents’ accident and copies of her parents’ death certificates. She folded the boxes closed and placed them into the trunk of her car where they would be safe.

  After staring at the inside of the storage unit a little longer, she made up her mind. She again locked the unit. This time she drove to the nearest Goodwill collection center.

  “I recently moved and put all of my furniture and household items into a storage unit,” she told a manager at the drop-off area. “Now I’m back to close out the unit and I’ve decided I don’t need any of it. I would like to donate it all. Would you be able to send a truck to empty the unit?”

  They agreed upon a day later in the week and a time Kari would meet them at the unit.

  That evening, as Kari and Ruth sipped sweet iced teas on Ruth’s covered patio and watched a monsoon storm form to the north of the city, Kari told Ruth her decision. “I’m not coming back to Albuquerque to live, Ruth,” she whispered.

  “I already knew, Cookie,” Ruth smiled back. “God has something different in store for you.”

  “Well, I don’t know what it is yet,” Kari confessed, not appreciating th
at she’d agreed with Ruth’s statement, not snapping to the fact that she’d acknowledged God’s role in the direction of her life.

  “Not to worry,” Ruth answered. “He knows what it is and whatever it is, it will be good.”

  Kari halfway believed her.

  “So. From here you will go on to Denver?”

  “Yes. I think, from the information Rose gives in the journal, I can search property records and find an address for their house in the city.”

  “And if you find the house?”

  Kari didn’t answer immediately; she was wondering herself.

  “I think I would like to see it, Ruth, even if I can’t go inside. Rose described it so perfectly . . . and I would like to see if it matches her description. Of course, it might not even be there anymore, but I’d like to know.”

  “And then?”

  Kari sighed. “I’d like to know what became of all of them. I know they have all . . . passed, and I know it’s not likely I’ll find much about them, but again, I’d like to try.”

  “Say,” Ruth sat up. “I would love to see it—Rose’s journal. Any chance you have it on you?”

  “Actually, I don’t go anywhere without it,” Kari was a little embarrassed. “I’m nearly terrified to leave it in my hotel room, so I carry it in my handbag everywhere I go.”

  She opened the large bag and removed the cedar box. She took the cloth bag from the box and tugged at the drawstring. Giving the cracked leather of the book a gentle caress, she handed it to Ruth. Kari said nothing, only sipped her tea and watched for long minutes as Ruth read the first several pages and then skimmed ahead to stop and read whole entries.

  “Wow.” Ruth’s eyes were filled with tears. “This woman’s ministry is amazing.”

  “She is amazing,” Kari added. “I am so . . . inspired by her and . . . touched by how she writes.”

  “She has a deep walk with The Lord,” Ruth agreed. “I can understand why her journal means so much to you. And the way she loves and shares Jesus with these girls! Oh, my. It’s powerful.”

  Kari swirled the little tea and ice remaining in her glass. Her voice slipped into a whisper. “I find myself a bit jealous of those girls, Ruth.”

  Ruth looked at Kari, curious. And then empathetic. “This Rose is like a mother to them.”

  “Oh, yes. When I read how she writes about the girls and about her own daughter, Joy, even about Mei-Xing . . . well, I long for that kind of love and care, too.”

  “I understand, Kari.” It was all Ruth needed to say.

  Kari knew Ruth did understand.

  Thank you for Ruth, she breathed again.

  The week ended, and Kari grew restless, ready to be on her way. She picked up Ruth for a goodbye lunch. “I’m ready to pay my debt.” Kari cracked a cheeky grin as they nibbled on chips and salsa after they’d ordered.

  “Oh?”

  “I think, all things considered, that I should admit that some pretty wonderful things have happened to me since May. You promised me that if I came back from New Orleans and something wonderful hadn’t happened, you would treat me to lunch. Right here at Little Anita’s on Juan Tabo, I believe.”

  “I forgot!” Ruth laughed. “Wow. Hey, wait! Wasn’t there something in that promise about flying a kite, too?”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  When they finished their lunch, Kari drove north on Juan Tabo and turned left on Comanche.

  “Where are we going?” Ruth mumbled. She had her head leaned back on the seat and was reveling in the cool breeze washing over the Caddy.

  “Just a short detour,” Kari murmured.

  Several blocks later they arrived at Loma del Rey Park. Ruth sat up and looked around. “What are we doing here, Kari?”

  “Just this.” Kari unlocked and opened the trunk. From it she took the neatest kite she had been able to find in Albuquerque.

  Ruth was chuckling. She was giggling. No; she was downright howling with laughter.

  “I figured I owed you this, Ruth!” Kari shouted as she ran with the kite toward the middle of the grassy field. She held the kite high over her head and started letting out the string.

  The air caught the kite, lifted it, and Kari walked quickly, letting more string roll from the kite spool. Ruth chased behind her and then they were screaming like children, running as the kite gained altitude and shot into the sky.

  The kite was striped in bright colors and trailed a long purple tail. It soared, higher and higher, brilliant against the flawless New Mexico sky.

  Kari handed the spool to Ruth and, arm-in-arm, they watched the kite mount on the wind.

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 15

  The next day was Sunday and Ruth had asked her to church, but Kari had declined. “I want to start looking for Palmer House in the property records first thing Monday morning, so I need to leave early tomorrow.”

  The drive to Denver took longer than she expected. Even though she had left Albuquerque by 7 a.m., she was on the road close to eight hours, counting lunch and restroom breaks.

  The city’s late Sunday afternoon traffic was light; still, Kari was relieved when she exited the six-lane freeway and found her way to the Brown Palace Hotel. She checked in and, gratefully, sent her car to the safety of valet parking.

  If she’d learned one thing on her drive from New Orleans to Albuquerque, it was that her car was a magnet for attention. People ogled her ride. Some shouted questions or kudos at her as they drove past her or when she was stopped at a light. If she was parked anywhere, they all wanted to touch the Caddy.

  Keep your hands off my car! she wanted to shout and, on occasion, did. Hotel valet parking would be the best place for her beloved Cadillac while in Denver, she decided.

  The Brown Palace hotel fronted Tremont Place and occupied the triangle-shaped block bounded by Tremont, 17th, and Broadway. After consulting a map of the city and talking to the concierge, Kari decided that tomorrow’s objective was within walking distance.

  I won’t drive my Caddy to look at property records in the morning and leave it on a curb or in a public parking lot where someone could ding a door or worse.

  It hadn’t yet occurred to Kari that she was becoming a bit obsessive regarding the Coupe de Ville.

  In the morning Kari left the hotel lobby, timing her walk to coincide with the opening of Denver’s public buildings. She turned left on 17th and headed for Broadway where she turned south at the pie-shaped corner. She found that the day was warming quickly, aided by the heat of so many vehicles in Denver’s thick weekday traffic.

  A few but long blocks later Kari, now hot and sticky, was wondering about the wisdom of walking. Finally she arrived at West Colfax—where it took her many impatient minutes to cross.

  I will take a cab home. Walking around downtown in this heat is just crazy, she admitted with a rueful laugh. After navigating West Colfax, she found her way west through Civic Center Park to Bannock. She could see Denver’s City and County Building on the far side of the street.

  She climbed what seemed like a hundred steps to the building’s entrance and stood within its foyer glad of the air conditioning. She consulted the directory and looked about for the stairs leading down to a lower level.

  Kari spent the rest of the morning in the building’s basement poring over property records. The county’s old records had been transferred to microfilm and were sorted by location and legal description rather than by owners’ name. All Kari had to go on in her search for Palmer House was the information Rose Thoresen’s journal provided her—a house built by Chester and Martha Palmer, presumably in the late 1800s, on the west side of old Denver.

  At least I know where not to look, Kari mused, ruling out everything east of the river and everything developed after 1900. And, with my work experience, I am certainly adept with microfilm!

  Kari was confident that once she found the right property record, it would also have the property address. And once she had an address, she would be able
to find it and verify that it was the right property using the characteristics Rose Thoresen, in her journal, had assigned the house: A three-story Victorian set deep within a corner lot, with a covered porch that spanned the front of the house leading to a gazebo off the house’s corner.

  Gables, turrets, and dormer windows, Kari recited to herself. Gables, turrets, and dormer windows.

  She used the phrases to drown out the nay-saying questions running in the background: What if the house was torn down? What if it burned? What if I find it is a rundown apartment building now—or a warehouse! What if it is only a vacant lot?

  Soundlessly, Kari chanted, Gables, turrets, and dormer windows, and pressed on in her search.

  Still, she was dazed when, in less than two hours, she scrolled past yet another record, stopped, backed up, and stared at the name, Chester H. Palmer, upon a property deed. Kari fumbled in her handbag for her notebook. She laughed at how her hands trembled and wondered again why finding the house Rose had called “Palmer House” seemed so vital, why this search goaded her with such . . . significance.

  “I don’t need a reason that makes sense,” Kari muttered under her breath. “For once in my life I can do as I please, simply because I please.” Even as she transferred the address of the property to her notebook, she heard Clover Brunell’s parting words to her.

  “Miss Kari, you know that you are now a wealthy woman. Take a little time to get used to the idea. Stay in nice hotels and eat in nice restaurants. Do a few things you have been putting off or spend a little time on something you care deeply about.”

  Kari was certain that Clover’s last three words to her were part of what drove her: Something I care deeply about? I have not one thing in the world that I care about! Not one person, not one thing.

  Well, that was not quite true anymore. In fact, she had to admit that in the last year she had found a number of people she cared deeply for and who cared for her: Ruth, Anthony and Gloria, Clover and Lorene, Owen and Mercy Washington, Oskar and Deborah Brunell. Even the Tollers.