Death Benefits

by Hannah Alexander

  “How do you know they haven’t?”

  She frowned. “They obviously haven’t for Sergei.”

  “I don’t think God’s finished with him yet,” Ray said.

  “I thought I was running a successful program over there, and that God was blessing it.”

  “He is, and you set the foundation for that. Look at all who’ve been helped.”

  “I didn’t take the opposition into account,” she said. “God can bless, but people can make bad choices.”

  “God’s blessings have a way of diversifying with the choices people make, Ginger. Actually, it’s been my experience that sometimes, under the most opposition, God’s blessings multiply exponentially. You may see your return home from Belarus as a failure, but I see it as an opportunity for you to lay a future foundation.”

  “That’s all well and good, but what about Sergei? Things certainly didn’t turn out for him.”

  “You sowed a lot of seeds with him. Now it’s time to let others do the gardening and reaping.”

  She sighed. Now he was trying to make her feel better. “I’m so sorry, Ray. After all our years of friendship, how could I have doubted your heart? I knew you better than that.”

  “And I should have been honest with you from the beginning,” he said. “Maybe that speaks of my own inability to trust.”

  “But you were probably right not to.”

  He leaned back and gazed at her. His own dark blue eyes filled with sudden amusement. He broke into a smile and drew back. “We could each recite a long list of regrets, couldn’t we?”

  “I know I could.”

  “But the past is just that. It’s over. Let’s learn from it and go on.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Where do we go from here?”

  He cocked his head to the side and smiled slightly. “You really want to know what I think?”

  She nodded.

  The smile widened. “I’m glad you asked. There’s something I’ve wanted to do for years.” He cupped her cheek with his hand, and before she realized what he had in mind, he lowered his head and pressed his lips gently to hers.

  Startled, she caught her breath and jerked back. “Ray?”

  “Hey, lovebirds!” called Larry from the top of the steps. “Hate to interrupt things, but I’ve got some good news.”

  Ginger stepped away from Ray, heart pounding, stunned by his kiss, and her immediate, shocked response.

  “Got word from the police in Lihue,” Larry said. “They have a suspect in custody who matches Fenrow’s description.”

  “They have Fenrow?” Ray exclaimed.

  Larry nodded. “They got a tip from someone at the hotel that he was hanging around the fourth floor hallway, and didn’t have any reason to be there.” He punched his fist into the air. “I think we’ve got our man! I’m on my way there to make sure.”

  Ray laughed. “Want me to come with you?”

  Larry turned to retreat down the stairs. “Not on your life. Go ahead and return to what you were doing. Don’t let me stand in the way of romance. Graham and Willow are coming with me, and as soon as we ID Fenrow, they’re going to rent another car and take off for a few days as originally planned.”

  “What about the storm tonight?” Ray called after him.

  “I don’t think they’ll get out in it, do you? I’ll be back before it hits.” He chuckled all the way down the stairs.

  Ginger grabbed Ray in a bear hug, and this time, when he kissed her, she returned his passion with all the enthusiasm with which she had hurled her anger. Their trip wouldn’t be ruined, after all.

  TWENTY

  Lucy walked beside Aunt Ginger across the road and between the trees as Uncle Preston and Brittany raced to see who would reach the beach first. Of course, Uncle Preston would let Brittany win. He always did, which Lucy didn’t think was a good idea. Brittany would think she was really a good runner when she wasn’t.

  Lucy could beat her, she just chose not to.

  “Don’t get too far out into the water, you two,” Aunt Ginger called after them. “Remember how rough it is.”

  Uncle Preston waved at her without looking back. Lucy knew Brittany was safe with him.

  Aunt Ginger rested a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “Helen told me what the meeting was about. I guess you were pretty shocked.”

  Lucy nodded.

  “How do you feel about having relatives you didn’t know you had?”

  Lucy tensed as she watched Brittany plunge into the shallows without stopping to see what was under the water. There could be sharp rocks or shells, eels or stingrays.

  “Don’t want to talk about it?” Aunt Ginger asked.

  Lucy shrugged. “I don’t trust them.”

  “You don’t think they’re telling the truth?”

  Lucy looked up at Aunt Ginger then, and reached for her hand. When she had it, she squeezed tightly with both of her own. “Maybe they are, but what if they try to stop the adoption? They said they wouldn’t, but what if they do? And what if they try to force us to go live with them instead of Graham and Willow, and they’re really mean? What if we never get to see you and Graham and Willow and Uncle Preston again, and they take us far, far away and beat us and—”

  “Whoa, there, my dear.” Aunt Ginger stopped and dropped to her knees. She reached up and framed both sides of Lucy’s face with her hands. “Would you please slow down? You should probably be a novelist when you grow up, because you have a vivid imagination.”

  Lucy wanted to cry. But she didn’t. She wanted to wrap her arms around Aunt Ginger’s neck and hold on tight and never let her go. “I’m…s-scared.”

  Aunt Ginger gently placed her fingers on Lucy’s chin and held her gaze. “We’ve all been scared for a couple of days because of the news about Rick Fenrow’s escape. Now, suddenly that threat is gone, but I don’t think we realize it yet. Do you think maybe you’re trying to replace one fear with another?”

  Lucy frowned at her. “Huh?”

  “Fear can be habit forming, and the fear we’ve felt since we heard about that man’s prison escape has been difficult for us to deal with. Don’t let that fear continue now that the scare is over.”

  “I’ve been afraid for a long time,” Lucy said. “Sometimes I was afraid when Mama left us alone at night, and sometimes I was afraid when she didn’t.”

  “Oh, honey.” Aunt Ginger drew Lucy into her arms and snuggled her close. “I know. It’s going to be different from now on, and you’ll soon learn that.”

  “That’s why I need you to tell me the truth when I’m scared, not tell me I don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Aunt Ginger sighed. “Okay, I’ll admit I noticed that Helen has watched you a lot on this trip, and I wondered about it a couple of times, but sometimes we women get all gooshy when we’re around children. I had the impression that she wished she had little girls like you and Brittany so she could shower you with love. Mean people don’t get all misty-eyed around little kids, they get cranky. I never once saw Helen cranky.”

  Lucy shrugged. “Maybe not.” But Aunt Ginger had been wrong when she said Rick Fenrow hadn’t been standing in the window of Lucy’s bedroom back home. What if she was wrong about this?

  Finally, after a long, woman-to-woman talk with Lucy about the relative safety of this beach, Ginger convinced the worrywart to join Brittany in the sand of the sheltered cove. Then she and Preston attacked a few waves with inept attempts to body surf—he’d been right, the water was too rough—before retreating to a rocky rise so they could have a better view of the beach as they watched the girls play.

  The cloud bank, which had been slowly advancing all afternoon from the east, had nearly covered the sky, though the sun shone with warmth near the western horizon.

  There was a protected swimming area only a few hundred feet south along the shoreline. Maybe another day, when the water was more peaceful, Ginger would take the girls snorkeling. She only hoped that would happen before they had to go back home
.

  Ginger had noticed a campground on the drive to the house earlier, and she’d seen some swimmers floating facedown on the choppy waters, snorkels in the air. Helen had spoken about the bounty of tropical fish along these shores.

  Ginger perched atop a jut of rock so she would have no trouble seeing the girls from where she sat. “Ever been a lifeguard?”

  Preston shook his head. He had sunk once more into his morose mood after the wedding ceremony. He covered it well when he was with the girls.

  He slumped down beside her.

  “You’ve been on the phone with Sheila again,” Ginger guessed.

  “I’m not sure you can call it a phone conversation, since we lost the connection three times, and she finally gave up and told me we’d talk about it when I got home.”

  “Ever thought of trying to use a landline and charging it to your credit card?” Ginger asked. “It’s an option. I know it’s probably more expensive, but if she’s worth it to you—”

  “The question isn’t whether or not she’s worth it to me, I think she’s telling me I’m not worth it to her.”

  “Why don’t you stop telling me how you feel, and tell me what she actually said,” Ginger suggested. Preston was not known for his comprehension skills, especially when it came to women.

  He spread his hands. “What’s to tell? She’s a bona fide, Bible believing Christian, and I’m not. End of story. Nice girls like her don’t date bad boys like me, who don’t pay homage to her God.”

  “That’s what she actually said?” Ginger asked.

  “No, she implied that we were at cross-purposes, and would stay that way until I had a change of heart.”

  Ginger felt badly for Preston. He’d been smitten long before his release from the hospital last year. Sheila was an excellent nurse, who gave tender care to all her patients, but her tender care had turned into more between her and Preston.

  “You know, I don’t like to say I told you so,” Ginger said, “but one reason I’ve always been concerned about doctor-patient personal relationships is because patients tend to experience a heightened sense of need that can lead to a strong, unhealthy attachment to their caregiver.”

  She thought about what she’d said for a moment and wondered if that same psychology might have been the case with Colya, Nick and Sergei. Had she encouraged them to form an unhealthy attachment to her because she had cared for their health needs for so long?

  Could she have identified and worked on Sergei’s personal limitations sooner if she hadn’t been so emotionally involved?

  “Those relationships don’t always last once the patient has healed, because they don’t reflect reality,” she continued.

  “Well, excuse me, Miss Manners, but that isn’t the situation with Sheila,” Preston said. “It looks as if God’s out to get me because I’m not preaching on the street corners for him.”

  “He’s not out to get you.”

  Preston rolled his eyes at her. “You’re not the best at this, are you? Every person who ever tried to get me ‘saved’ has tried to convince me that God is out to get me.”

  She grimaced. “Okay, fine, He is out to get you, but only because He loves you and wants you to be happy with Him in your life.”

  “Preaching again,” Preston chided.

  “I’m a missionary, I preach. Look, Preston, maybe you don’t need to force the issue with Sheila right now. I think this situation needs a gentle touch.”

  “Gentle touch?”

  “That’s right.” Ginger glanced down toward the girls. Brittany had not ventured back into the water. Lucy hadn’t even taken off her shoes. “Have you ever brought home a bag of salad or potato chips that you found hard to open? You jerk on the package and fumble with the bag until you overpower it, and at the moment of triumph, chips or salad fixings go flying all over the kitchen counter.”

  Preston raised his eyebrows. “Are you trying to go somewhere with this? Because you haven’t arrived yet.”

  “Don’t interrupt. Someone could take that same bag, pull it open gently, and have no trouble with flying food.”

  “And that would be why?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know much about applied force. All I’m saying is I’ve found that a gentle, non-threatening touch can get a point across a lot more easily than force. The cellophane bag is a fine example of human interaction. No one wants to be browbeaten into submission. You know that by your own experiences when someone tries to force you to come to Christ. People need to be led gently.”

  “I don’t need anything, and I don’t see what cellophane packaging has to do with Sheila and me.”

  “Okay, look, all Sheila is trying to tell you is that God works out relationships. He is the strength that keeps marriages together. Love Him first, and allow everything else to follow.”

  “Aha! There it is,” Preston said. “You’re saying I must love God before I can love Sheila.”

  “Think that sounds harsh?” she asked. “When He is the one Who can make any relationship work, can make it rich with love and friendship and goodness? Is that so bad?”

  “It is when He’s held over my head like a bludgeon.”

  “That isn’t what Sheila is doing. She knows that God can make so much more out of a romance than two people can make of it without Him.”

  “So you’re saying I might want to use a more gentle approach with Sheila.”

  “Excuse me? Isn’t that what I just said? Were you even listening?”

  He looked intrigued. “Mind if I take a stab at it now? I’ll go back to the house, use the landline and talk to Sheila as if she were a cellophane bag of salad. No, make that potato chips.”

  “You’re such a romantic.”

  A child’s scream jolted them both to their feet. Ginger caught sight of a renegade wave seconds before it splashed her in the face, all the way up on the rock.

  “Grab the girls!” Preston shouted as he leaped from the rocks into the churning water.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Lucy dug her heels into the sand and jerked hard on Brittany’s arm, choking as the salty water spurted up her nose. Her eyes stung, and she couldn’t see or hear anything, just felt the water trying to force her and Brittany out to sea.

  Another wave knocked her down. She tumbled backward and lost her grip on Brittany’s arm. She couldn’t get her head out of the water and she didn’t know which way was up. Above the rumble of water, she heard her sister scream, and then she felt hands grabbing her.

  She gasped for breath, choking and gagging on sand in her mouth. Someone held her in his or her arms, hugging her, brushing hair from her face.

  “It’s okay, honey, I’ve got you.”

  Aunt Ginger. Lucy opened eyes that stung with saltwater. “Brittany! I lost her!”

  Then she saw Uncle Preston, carrying Brittany out of the surf. She was screaming, holding her right elbow.

  “Let’s get off this beach!” Uncle Preston called. “This water’s wild.”

  Brittany kept screaming as they ran toward the house.

  Lucy wriggled to get down. “What’s wrong with her? What happened?”

  Aunt Ginger set her on her feet in the sand and rushed to check on Brittany, who screamed louder when Aunt Ginger touched her right arm.

  “Shhh, hush, honey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” Aunt Ginger soothed. “What happened? What hurts? Did you hit your elbow on something?”

  Brittany shook her head. “The water jerked me and Lucy held on, but it kept grabbing me and wouldn’t let go, and…” Her face scrunched. “It hurt me.”

  “Let me check it.” Aunt Ginger took Brittany’s hand as if she was going to shake hands with her, then touched the inside of her arm.

  Brittany howled, and Lucy rushed to her. “You’re going to be okay. Aunt Ginger’ll take care of you.” Like she always did to calm Brittany, Lucy rubbed her sister’s forehead, then smoothed back her hair, while Aunt Ginger grasped Brittany’s wrist and bent her arm.

/>   Brittany screamed again, and Lucy winced.

  “I’m done, sweetheart,” Aunt Ginger said. “Your arm’s fixed. It’ll stop hurting in a few seconds.”

  Brittany cried for a moment, and then she looked down at her elbow and straightened her arm. Her eyes widened.

  Lucy looked up at Aunt Ginger. “What happened?”

  “She got what we call nursemaid’s elbow. I wasn’t sure, because she’s a little old for it, but when someone accidentally jerks a little child’s arm too hard, it can pull a bone out of position. I put it back in place.”

  Lucy examined the elbow again. It looked fine. “I was the one who hurt her?” Willow and Aunt Ginger were always telling her not to hold on to Brittany so much, not to pull on her and grab her. “I did that?”

  Aunt Ginger looked down at her and smiled. “Now, you tell me, young lady, what do you think Brittany would have preferred, nursemaid’s elbow or being washed out to sea? You’re our little heroine, my dear. You might have saved Brittany’s life!”

  Ray knelt in front of the dining room chair where Brittany sat, and gently checked the movement of her right elbow. “It looks perfect,” he told Ginger. “Of course, I’m not surprised.” He looked up at Helen, who had come running as soon as she saw Preston and Ginger carrying the girls to the house. “I don’t suppose we have anything around here that could function as a sling, do we?”

  Helen brightened and snapped her fingers. “I know just the thing. Lucy, what do you think the hotel staff did this afternoon with that wrap I gave you to wear over your swimsuit?

  “I saw it in my top drawer in our bedroom.”

  “I think we could make a sling out of that, don’t you? And I’ll buy you an even prettier wrap.”

  As Lucy and Helen went to get the sling, Ginger pulled Brittany onto her lap.

  Ray couldn’t keep his eyes off Ginger. “You still have the touch,” he said.

  She grinned at him. “It isn’t as if I went to seed this past year. I’ve been busy. I still know my job.”