Death Benefits

by Hannah Alexander

  Ray watched the front door close behind Lucy and her adult companions. “I’m sure Willow and Lucy will fill you in on all the details,” he teased. “What do you say? Explore?”

  “Guess I could.” She glanced at Larry and Preston, who were occupying themselves with an inspection of a flowering shrub with brilliant red flowers.

  Brittany now rode on Preston’s shoulders, and she had Chuckles perched on Preston’s head. That man would be a good father someday.

  Ginger turned back to Ray. It was time for some major apologies.

  He held his hand out. “Come with me?”

  She took it. “I’d love to.”

  Lucy refused to cling to Willow or Graham as they followed Helen and Steve into the house. Why wasn’t Larry with them? Didn’t he know they could be in danger? She wanted to call out to him, but when she turned to look back down the stairs, he and Uncle Preston and Brittany were busy checking out some flowers at the edge of the yard. Aunt Ginger and Ray stood by the van, talking.

  Steve opened the double doors of the house and pushed them wide for the others to enter.

  Helen paused on the threshold and caught her breath. “Would you look at this gorgeous place! Steve, I’ve always wanted to decorate our living room with bolder colors. And look at this beautiful hardwood floor! Someone invested a little cash in this place.”

  Lucy didn’t really like the wood floors. She liked soft, thick carpets that a kid could lie on while watching TV. But there wasn’t a TV in this living room, there was just Helen and Steve.

  Helen suggested they all sit at the dining room table, at the far end of the huge living room.

  The wooden tabletop was so shiny Lucy could almost see her reflection in it—and Graham’s and Willow’s as she hurried to the chair between them.

  Steve pulled open some blinds along the wall to reveal a huge window that overlooked a garden in back, at the foot of the mountain. A narrow road wound up the side of the mountain. Lucy wondered who ever drove up that road. Or who drove down it from the top. Maybe it was a hiking trail.

  “Something unfortunate happened this morning that we need to explain.” Helen pulled out a chair across the table from Lucy and sat down. “Honey, you overheard me say something that could have been taken wrong. I never meant to frighten you.”

  Lucy watched her sit down. Steve patted his wife’s shoulder, and a look passed between them. What were they up to?

  “You knew my mother,” Lucy said.

  Helen nodded her head. “Yes, I did.”

  “What?” Willow exclaimed.

  “You knew Sandi?” Graham asked. “And you never told us about it?”

  “You told Steve that you would never forgive Sandi for what she did to us girls,” Lucy said. “And then he said you didn’t have a choice because she was dead now, and then you said it didn’t have to be that way.”

  Willow caught her breath, and reached for Lucy’s hand.

  Graham placed his arm over the back of Lucy’s chair. “I think it’s time for some explanations.” His words were suddenly clipped and hard. “And you might try telling us why you’re on this trip under false pretenses.”

  “Please,” Steve said, “this isn’t what it seems.”

  “So it isn’t a cover-up?” Graham asked.

  Steve and Helen looked at each other, then Helen said, “We really are exotic wedding planners and travel guides. I’ve been a professional photographer for thirty-five years.”

  “I ran our travel agency until five years ago,” Steve said, “when we decided on a change.”

  “Taking this job with you was my idea,” Helen said. “The only difference between this job and any other is that we aren’t as familiar with this island as we are with the others, and with islands in the Caribbean. That’s why we’ve had the glitches here, and for that, we apologize.” Her gaze rested on Lucy. “And we have a special interest in two of our young clients.”

  Willow squeezed Lucy’s hand reassuringly. “Helen, why? Who are you?”

  Helen clasped her hands together on the table. “Sandi was my niece.”

  For a moment there was no sound at the table. Lucy stared at Helen, then looked at Steve as he placed an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

  “You were right, honey,” Helen said to him softly. “We shouldn’t’ve come, but I couldn’t resist. It was such an opportunity to spend time with the girls.”

  “Brittany and I don’t have any relatives,” Lucy said. “Mama told us.”

  “Oh, but you do,” Steve said. “Your mama had twenty-two first cousins on her mother’s side. Your grandmother had three brothers and four sisters. Helen was the oldest sister, and Jennifer, your grandmother, was the youngest.”

  Lucy stared at him. Why should she believe this stranger? “Why didn’t I know my grandmother?”

  “Jennifer died of an…she died when Sandi was twenty,” Helen said.

  “Like mother, like daughter,” Steve said.

  “What do you mean?” Lucy asked.

  “I mean your mother followed in her own mother’s footsteps. She was a—”

  “I think that’s explanation enough,” Graham said. “I suppose you have proof of your relationship?”

  “I have pictures in my suitcase,” Helen said. “We have letters and copies of medical records, all of which can be authenticated.”

  “Sandi cut us both out of Lucy’s and Brittany’s lives when they were tiny,” Steve explained. “Brittany was in diapers.”

  “And now look at what’s happened to Sandi,” Helen said, holding her hands out to Willow and Graham in an expression of helplessness. “I did all I could, but I was too outspoken about her lifestyle, and she didn’t appreciate it any more than her mother did.”

  “Why did you bring authentication with you?” Willow asked. “Why, exactly, did you agree to book our group?”

  “Wouldn’t you have taken any opportunity to spend time with your little great-nieces if you had the chance?” Helen asked. “Especially if you’ve never been allowed to do so before?”

  “You wanted to be close to the girls, I understand that,” Willow said. “But why didn’t you identify yourselves to us in the first place?”

  “We weren’t sure what your reaction would be,” Helen said. “We didn’t know you then. What would you have said if we’d marched up to your front door and told you who we were, and that we wanted to check you out?”

  “We would have thought you were going to try to stop the adoption,” Graham said.

  Lucy gasped and jumped from her chair. “No! You can’t do that!”

  Graham caught her gently, and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms firmly around her. “The adoption has been approved, Steve. You can’t possibly expect to—”

  “We aren’t planning to do anything now that we’ve seen you with them,” Helen said. “Don’t you worry about that. But you must understand why we were worried. We only found out about Sandi’s death in early November. Sandi had changed her last name, and she had done everything she could to make sure no one could track her down.”

  “We wanted to make sure Lucy and Brittany would have a good home,” Steve said, looking at Lucy. “This time.”

  “Steve and I might be a little old to be raising two little girls,” Helen said. “Steve has a heart condition. But we’d planned to do that, if necessary. We failed them when Sandi was alive, but we couldn’t fail them now.”

  NINETEEN

  Ray leaned against the deck railing beside Ginger and watched the waves crash against the rocky shore beyond the trees. The woman beside him held more fascination for him than the beauty of the island—which was considerable here on Kauai’s northernmost tip.

  The late afternoon sunlight turned stray strands of Ginger’s short, wavy hair into smoking flames. He was the moth.

  “Ginger,” he said softly, “you look lost in thought.”

  She nodded, still watching those waves. “You know how, back in the days of the wild, wild Wes
t, pioneers in a wagon train banded together for safety on their trip? And they circled the wagons when threatened?”

  Ray thought about Rick Fenrow and understood what she meant. “Even when some of those wagoners might have been adversaries and set sparks off one another during the trek west?”

  “Even then,” she said.

  “But then maybe they discovered that there’s safety in numbers, and the enemy wasn’t who they perceived it to be in the first place.”

  “I don’t see you as my enemy, Ray.”

  He smiled. “Since when?”

  “I never should have. I know who the real enemy is on this trip. Rick Fenrow destroys lives, not just careers.”

  Ray winced.

  “Okay, I didn’t mean…let me rephrase that,” she said. “I wasn’t—”

  “Too late. Ginger, I didn’t ever want to—”

  “I know.” She reached out and took his hand.

  It startled him, but he certainly wouldn’t protest.

  “I had a heart-to-heart with God about my response to your presence on this trip,” she said. “I behaved like a spoiled child, and I set a blasphemous example for the children to see.”

  He quirked a brow at her “Blasphemous? Where on earth did you come up with that? Unfortunate, maybe, or crude, but I wouldn’t call it blasphemous.”

  She gave him a wry look and tried to pull her hand away.

  He held it fast. “You’re not a spoiled child, Ginger. You’re a woman who has strong opinions, and you’re a wonderful example for the children.”

  For a moment, she studied the waves, then she looked up at him. “In that case, don’t you think I’m mature enough to know the truth behind the changes you made last year?”

  “You’re mature enough.” With slow, deliberate movements, he raised her hand and traced the outlines of her fingers. “I think maybe the problem has been my own lack of maturity.”

  “You can’t be serious,” she said in a flat tone.

  He looked down into those beautiful, guileless eyes, and felt such an ache of remorse. He had treated her like a child last year. Who could wonder at her anger?

  Yet, there was hope. Last year the truth might have injured her far worse than it would now, with some time for memories to fade, and attachments to loosen their hold.

  “What is it, Ray?”

  He swallowed, then drew her to two deck chairs that had a perfect view of the blue horizon over the treetops. “Have a seat.”

  She did as she was asked for, perhaps, the first time on this trip, and he was forced, at last, to release her hand.

  She settled beside him. As if bracing for what might be coming, she leaned back in the chair and gazed into the distance. “I should have realized from the beginning that you had a good reason for what you did.” She looked up at him, then back at the ocean. “I knew your heart, Ray. But I felt so…rejected.”

  “Believe me, nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “So why don’t you tell me the truth?”

  He sighed. He could do this. It was time. He would tell her the whole truth.

  Ginger felt as if she was nearing the end of a free fall, and she was about to splatter on the ground. But she’d asked for this moment for too long. What could be worse than what she’d already believed to be true?

  A muscle worked in Ray’s jaw, a sure sign of tension.

  He cleared his throat. “I received an anonymous call last February from someone warning me that your life might be in danger.”

  She caught her breath, unable to conceal her shock. “My life? In Belarus?”

  He nodded.

  She swallowed. “That kind of thing happened from time to time. That’s why you brought me back to Missouri? Ray, missionaries face danger like that every day. There were other lives besides mine at stake. And there were souls at stake. You didn’t think I could handle that news?”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t even sure I could handle it. I was frantic. I considered shutting down the clinic completely, or turning it over to the Belarusians and pulling out the entire American staff.”

  She straightened in her chair. “Of course you couldn’t do that! Think how many people were dependent on that clinic. They need—”

  “I found out who made the call.” His voice suddenly softened.

  She studied his expression. “Okay.”

  “Nicolai.”

  She caught her breath, feeling a stab of anguish. One of her children? “Which one? Nick or Colya?” She had given those two boys nicknames when they first came to the clinic because they were both named Nicolai.

  “He had blond hair and blue eyes and was skinny as a fence post,” Ray said.

  “That would be Colya.” She felt another squeeze of anguish. She couldn’t suppress the tears that sprang to her eyes. Charming, friendly Colya, who had always been so eager to please, so affectionate. “He threatened my…my life?”

  “He warned me that your life might be in danger. Big difference.”

  The anguish eased. Not her Colya, then. Thank you, Jesus. Colya was one of the kids who had spent so much time hanging around the clinic, helping out with odd jobs and translations. Even as a ten-year-old, he knew enough English to translate for her when she was still learning Russian.

  “But why didn’t he tell me?” she asked. “I could have dealt with it.”

  “No, you couldn’t.” Ray’s voice sharpened. “He knew if he told you about it, you’d come right out and confront the culprit, and he was afraid for his own life, as well as yours.”

  “He told you that?”

  “In person, when I flew to Minsk.”

  “With my replacement?”

  “No, I flew out myself before I would risk the life of any replacement.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “As soon as you arrived home. I used your heart arrhythmia as an excuse to get you back home so I could investigate the threat,” he said. “I wanted to handle it as quietly as possible.”

  She felt another emotion coming into play. Utter humiliation. Because she had a reputation for not keeping her mouth shut, Ray had been forced to go behind her back? And Colya had done so, as well?

  “I know I’m not the most cautious person on the mission field,” she said. “And I’ve never been subtle with my opinions, but—”

  “You are who you are, Ginger, and no one would want you any other way. However, I couldn’t take that chance, either as your director, or as someone who cares very much for you.”

  She clasped her hands together and stared down at them. “Who threatened me?”

  He took a deep breath, let it out. “Sergei.”

  She sprang to her feet, returned to the deck railing and gripped it tightly. “No.”

  “You know how close Colya was to him. I had a bad feeling about it as soon as I got the call.”

  “Isn’t it possible Colya might have been exaggerating a little? Sergei had a bad temper, and said things in the heat of anger that he didn’t really—”

  “Don’t excuse his behavior. What happened between you and Sergei last winter that made him so angry? And why didn’t you tell me about it? Colya didn’t know, and Sergei wouldn’t tell him.”

  Oh, yes. Last winter. Maybe she hadn’t handled that as well as she’d thought. “I caught him early one morning in the clinic, trying to break into the drug cabinet. I gave him a firm talking-to, and he responded with childish bravado. I banned him from the clinic for two weeks, and thought that was the end of it. When he came back he apologized. I hugged him and invited him to dinner and thought things were fine.”

  “Not the most insightful thing you’ve ever done,” Ray said. “Colya told me Sergei had been talking wildly one night after he’d drank a half bottle of vodka, and he betrayed thoughts about murdering you.”

  Ginger felt a renewed stab of pain, sharp and wicked. “I can’t believe Sergei would ever have followed through with any of his threats.”

  “Exactly. That’
s why I brought you home, because you wouldn’t have believed it, and would have made things worse if I’d told you.”

  She heard him get up, and he joined her at the railing.

  “I also knew that if you had realized what was going on last year, you’d have been devastated,” he said.

  “But I was.” She looked up at him.

  “I realize that.”

  “Those boys were the ones I felt I had betrayed when I didn’t get to return to Belarus.”

  “I believed it would be better for you to be angry with me for a while than to be hurt by Sergei’s deception and hatred.”

  She felt tears sting her eyes. After all this time, all this blame she’d placed on Ray, and she had been wrong.

  And how could Sergei have felt that way about her? She’d loved those boys, taken them into her home, time after time, when their own parents were busy working. She had fed them, given them motherly advice. Yes, she’d been firm with them, but no more so than she’d been with her own children.

  “Sergei has since been in trouble with the police, Ginger,” Ray said. “He’s in prison now.”

  She felt her face crumple. “Oh, Ray.”

  He took her into his arms and held her while she soaked the front of his shirt with tears and a good portion of her makeup.

  “That poor, struggling child! I’ve known him since he was eight.”

  “I know,” he soothed.

  “He lived with his mother and a bully of an older brother.”

  “That’s what Colya told me,” Ray said.

  “When things got too hard to deal with at home—which they often did—he came to the clinic, or to my apartment over the clinic.”

  “You did everything you could for him,” Ray assured her, his deep voice wrapping its comfort—its forgiveness—around her.

  All remaining bitterness drained from her, and she allowed herself to grieve her loss, this time without anger. Where had she gone wrong with Sergei? And how could she have handled the situation so that the whole mission clinic wouldn’t have been in danger of being shut down, or the Americans sent home?

  “All these years,” she said, “I thought that if I loved enough, gave enough of myself, forgave enough and tried hard enough, things would always work out.”