by Amy Rognlie
She glanced at him. “I’ve never stopped.”
He took her hand, gently tracing the backs of her fingers. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I want to have a relationship with Christ, but I can’t seem to get past the fear.”
She was silent, giving him time to give voice to his thoughts. At last he continued, his voice heavy. “Also, I think we’d better not see each other any more.” There. He’d said it. He felt her shock as she pulled her hand away to stare at him.
“Why?”
This was much harder than he imagined. “Because. . . because I need some time to think.”
“Oh.” The pain in her beautiful eyes made his stomach hurt. But what else could he do? He couldn’t go on not knowing. . .
Her soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “Can’t you tell me what’s wrong, Ben?”
He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.
“Ben?” She felt him touch his arm tentatively and he turned to her then.
“How do I know that it’s not true, Raine?”
“What’s not true?” Her face clouded at the coldness in his voice.
“How do I know that you aren’t really married to Paul, and you’re not just playing a game with me?”
She simply stared at him, as though too stunned to speak. “I’ve told you the truth, Ben,” she said quietly at last. “If you don’t trust me, then I guess there’s nothing left for us.”
She stood, and he almost gave in as he caught a faint whiff of her freshly-washed hair. He reached for her, then turned away.
“Good-bye, Raine,” he said over his shoulder.
He saw her raise her hand as if to touch him, and then she wrapped her arms around herself as if to ward of a sudden chill. He couldn’t bare to look at her any longer, and he quickly strode away and climbed into the carriage. He turned the horses and never once looked back.
If he had, he would have seen the tears streaming down Raine’s face as she stumbled into the house, not caring who saw her misery.
“Why, Raine! What’s wrong, child?” Her aunt’s sympathetic voice only caused the tears to flow faster. She poured out the story, Aunt Grace clucking and sighing at the appropriate times.
“Why don’t men have more sense!” Grace was thoroughly indignant by the time Raine had calmed down. “I have a mind to. . .”
“Now, now Gracie. I’m sure the boy will come to his senses.” Uncle John had come into the room in time to hear Raine’s tearful recounting of the evening. “Captain Ben won’t be able to stay away for very long, if I know him.”
“But why. . .”
“Raine, Ben loves you.” John smiled at the look on his niece’s face. “But men are funny sometimes. Loving you makes Ben vulnerable, and the way the situation looks to him, he thinks he’s going to end up getting hurt. Just be patient, honey. He’ll come around.” Uncle John patted her hand. “A few prayers wouldn’t hurt, either.”
Raine plodded upstairs, somehow feeling like a lost little girl. Her heart hurt as she recalled the look on Ben’s face. Ben, I love you so much. How could you ask me to pray for you—and then doubt me?
A quiet voice seemed to interrupt her anguish, saying, And how could you doubt Me? Raine slipped to her knees. Please forgive me, Father God, she cried. I love Ben so much, but I want Your will to be done in my life. Please lead me in Your path.
❧
The next day a letter from Constance arrived, bringing a smile in the midst of Raine’s pain.
Dear Raine,
You would never believe it! I have decided to stay here on the island! There are so many suffering people coming through these gates. My heart especially goes out to my Orthodox brothers and sisters, who are almost starving to death by the time they reach Ellis. You see, they only eat kosher foods, and no one seems to take notice of their special needs.
Some of the Jewish workers here and myself are thinking of creating some sort of organization to help the Jewish immigrants. Not only with food, but with anything they need to get them established here in America. And if I get the chance, I’m not going to be afraid to tell them about the Messiah.
Anyway, God is good. Thank you so much, dear, for leading me back to Him. I trust this letter finds you well. Kiss that handsome Captain Thackeray for me.
Sincerely,
Constance Rabinowicz
P.S. I TOLD them I didn’t have tuberculosis.
I would certainly kiss Ben if he would come back to me, Raine thought mournfully. The dull ache in her heart would not go away. Tired of sitting around the house the last few days, she finally asked Uncle John to drive her to Violet’s house. Maybe she thought of something else helpful, Raine hoped. In any case, it would be delightful to spend some time with the cheery woman.
“I’ll be back in an hour, Raine,” Uncle John called as he dropped her off at Violet’s door.
Violet was delighted to see Raine, tactfully refraining from asking about Ben when she noticed the sad look in Raine’s emerald eyes.
“Would you mind pouring?” she asked instead, handing Raine the flowered teapot.
Thoroughly enjoying the older woman’s company, Raine glanced at the clock in surprise when Uncle John knocked on the door. Could an hour have passed so quickly?
“Come in and meet Violet,” she suggested as she let him in.
Uncle John obligingly stepped into the sunny room, stopping short as he recognized the woman in the wheelchair. “Well—”
“Hello, John!” Violet interrupted. “This is a surprise!”
Raine looked from Violet to her Uncle John. “You two know each other?”
Her uncle looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Yes. We knew each other back in London, Raine.” He looked at Violet. “I had no idea you had moved here to Boston.”
“I wasn’t aware that you and Grace lived in Boston either, John.” Violet’s eyes were steady as she gazed at him.
“Yes, well.” John cleared his throat nervously. “It was nice seeing you again. I’ll be sure to tell Grace.” He turned to Raine. “We’d better get going, Raine.”
Raine wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of tension. “I’ll come visit again soon, Violet,” she promised.
“I’ll look forward to it, dear.”
“What was that all about, Uncle John?” Raine asked as soon as they were out the door.
John didn’t answer until they were out of sight of Violet’s house. “I’m sorry if I seemed rude, Raine. It was quite a shock to see an old acquaintance from England after all this time,” he said slowly. Raine looked at him questioningly, certain he was not telling her everything.
She was surprised to see a carriage in the drive as they pulled up to Uncle John’s house.
“Well Raine, it looks like your captain is back!” John seemed glad for the diversion from his thoughts.
She stepped down from the carriage, her heart pounding. Walking slowly to the front door, she failed to see Ben as he stood in the shade of the old oak.
❧
Ben’s mouth went dry as he saw her. She looked like a breath of spring, the plumes of her hat exactly matching the peacock blue of her dress. I’ve been such a fool, he thought. God, please let her forgive me. . .
“Raine!” She whirled, her eyes wide, and he approached her slowly, as one would approach a frightened animal. Finally standing in front of her, he searched her face. “Can you forgive me?” he asked in a low voice.
He watched the joy leap into her eyes. “Yes,” she said simply.
“I’ve been miserable without you, Raine. I love you.” He pulled her into his embrace. He felt her smile against his chest, and although he couldn’t be sure, he thought he heard her whisper, “I love you too.”
“I missed you so much.” Suddenly remembering something, he dug into his pocket. He folded her gloved hand around the key. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said about trust. I don’t know what this key belongs to, Raine, but I know that I can trust you with th
e key to my heart. I was wrong to doubt you.”
She looked up at him, her eyes shining. “I. . .”
“Well, now. Here’s the good captain!” Uncle John clapped Ben on the shoulder.
Raine sighed. Uncle John had a way of choosing the most inopportune moments. . .
After supper, Grace laid the small brass key on the table, studying it intently. “I don’t know for sure, but I would guess that this key would open a safety deposit box,” she ventured.
“Of course!” Ben was elated. All four of them had been mulling over the various unanswered questions regarding Paul, trying to figure out the significance of the key.
Raine’s heart soared, then sank. “We could spend months trying to find the right bank.” Everyone was silent. Have we come this far only to reach a dead end? Raine wondered.
“I think we ought to pay a visit to Violet again,” Ben announced suddenly. “Didn’t she say that she had Paul run errands for her sometimes? Maybe she knows what bank he would have gone to.”
❧
“Yes,” Violet nodded. “Paul often went to the bank for me. I use the one down on First Street.”
“Sounds like a good place to start,” Ben said.
Violet reached for both of their hands. “God go with you,” she said fervently. “Please let me know when you find my boy.”
Raine felt tears prick the backs of her eyelids. “We will, Violet. We will.”
❧
El Paso County, Colorado
The Crooked P ranch hands were working furiously. The rain had finally stopped and they had to make up for lost time. Tom worked alongside his men, readying ten head of cattle for the trip south to Santa Fe.
Laying aside the branding iron, Tom wiped the sweat from his face. Stuffing his bandanna into his pocket, he ambled over to the well where several of the hands were gathered. He dipped himself a cool drink from the full bucket that stood nearby, then sank wearily to the ground.
“Only ’bout a dozen of them ornery creatures left, Boss.” Simon nodded toward the holding pen.
Tom nodded, then entered the log ranch house, throwing his sweaty shirt on the floor. Passing the fireplace, his eye caught sight of the Bible on the shelf where he had left it that rainy day. His soul reached out for it, but his mind would not obey. Turning his head, he walked away.
Two days later, he pulled his bandanna up over his face. “Let’s get going, boys!”
The excitement of a cattle drive always did wonders for him, and he’d been especially looking forward to this trip to Santa Fe. Maybe he could leave the torment of his past for a few days. What he wouldn’t give. . .
five
Raine drew a deep breath as the teller directed her and Ben into a small room. Ben couldn’t believe how easy it had been to find the right bank. The teller had taken one look at the key, asked Raine her name, and that was that.
Now, he set the long metal box on the table with a thunk. “Take as much time as you need.”
Raine fitted the key into the lock with shaking fingers. Will she at last find the answers to all of her questions? Ben wondered. She looked up at him, and he smiled encouragingly. He was sure that they had been followed to the bank, but now was not the time to tell her that.
He frowned, remembering the face of the red-haired man that had been behind them all morning. He was sure it was the same man he had seen that time outside his office back in London. The face had seemed familiar somehow, not only because he had seen the man that other time but as though he should have known the man’s name, as though he’d known him from some other place and time. . . “Go ahead,” he encouraged her. He found himself holding his breath, distracted from his thoughts, and, for the time being, he forgot about the red-haired man.
She opened the lid slowly. Peering over her shoulder, Ben was surprised to see that it contained only two envelopes. As she picked up the largest one first, he noticed that Paul’s handwriting was very sloppy, as if he had written Raine’s name in haste.
Taking a deep breath, she slid the contents out. She glanced at the inner envelope, then held it out to Ben so he could see the note scrawled across it. Raine, please get this into the hands of Ben Thackeray. He almost grabbed it out of her hands.
He ripped it open, heaving a huge sigh of relief as he glimpsed the contents. He had hoped against hope that it would turn out to be something like this.
“What is it?”
He glanced up at her, regret momentarily covering the joy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Raine. I’m not at liberty to share this information with you yet. There’s something I need to do first.”
Her eyes widened.
“But I can tell you one thing—this is wonderful news!” He caught her up suddenly and whirled her around in the air.
“Put me down,” she pleaded with a giggle.
He did so at once, standing back to admire her. What a picture she was. Her hat had fallen off, revealing the gorgeous mass of dark curls. Her cheeks were pink from laughter, and her mouth. . . He pulled her to him, no longer able to resist. Her lips felt soft beneath his as they yielded to the hungry pressure of his own. “Ah, Raine,” he whispered. “What have you done to me?”
He released her after a long moment, watching as she picked up the envelope that still lay in the box. She stared at the date that Paul had penciled in under her name. February 1, 1903 “This was right before the Aramathea set sail,” she whispered.
She slid a single sheet of paper out of the envelope. Yellowed with age and dog-eared, it seemed to be some sort of legal document. She stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment, then gasped as she realized what she was holding. How could it be?
Ben took the paper from her shaking hand. He scanned the few words it contained, then shrugged as he looked up at her.
She pointed to a line on the birth certificate that stated a women named Miriam was Paul’s natural mother. “My mother’s name was Ellen.”
“Ah.” Comprehension dawned on him as he reread it. “I’m sorry, Raine.”
“So am I.” Her lips were pressed together in a tight line. “I’m sure this is most of the reason Paul never came back, even to see me.” Slipping it back into the envelope, she stooped to pick up a single sheet of paper that had fallen to the floor, then held it so they both could read it.
Dear Raine,
I have missed you so! Has Papa poisoned you against me so much that you won’t even answer one of my letters?
Ben saw her eyes fill with tears, and he knew her heart was breaking at the thought that Paul might think she had abandoned him.
Perhaps Papa has forbade you to have contact with me? I can only hope that you have not forgotten me completely. I’m sure you can see why I will never come home —not until Ben follows the directions I’ve left him and lets me know the results. I don’t have time to write you everything that happened, but I trust that since you have gotten this far, that Ben has told you as much as he could. I am in danger, and I fear that you would be in danger also if you were with me. But how I long for your sweet company!
The tears were flowing freely down her face as she read the last sentences out loud. “Please, Raine. If you can’t find it in your heart to write to me, at least pray for me. Please pray for me, little sister.”
Ben gathered her into his arms, rocking her gently. He could tell that all the pent-up emotion of the last weeks flowed out with her tears, soaking the front of his shirt. “Shh, it’s going to be fine,” he murmured comfortingly. “I’m right here, Raine. . .I love you.”
She laid her head on his shoulder.
❧
“So where do you go from here, Raine?” Uncle John had just finished reading Paul’s letter.
“I don’t know.” She wrinkled her brow. “I just can’t figure out why I haven’t received any letters from Paul. Apparently he thinks I know where he is.”
“Do you think he could still be here in Boston, Raine?”
“No, I don’t think so, Aunt Grace. Ther
e was no date on the letter, but somehow I feel that it was written quite a while ago.” She smiled suddenly. “I do know that God has led me this far. It looks like a dead end, but I know He can work it out.”
“Especially since He knows where Paul is, even though we don’t,” her uncle reminded her. “What does Ben think?”
“I guess he’s as puzzled as I am,” she admitted. “Although there was something in that other envelope he can’t tell me about yet.”
She bid her aunt and uncle good night and closed the door to her room with a sigh of relief. The events of the day paraded through her mind as she knelt down by the bed. She was horrified anew at the indisputable truth that the old document had brought to light.
Papa, how could you? her heart cried.
I love you, Raine. Ben’s words of love comforted her again as she remembered the warmth of his embrace. She buried her face in her pillow. I need to talk to You, Father. I know You’ve led me this far, but I don’t know where to go next. Please lead me. . .
She awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and at peace, but no closer to knowing what to do next. The cool morning air beckoned to her irresistibly. Letting herself out the front door without a sound, she took a long walk. She breathed in the freshness of the beautiful morning, and somehow it gave her courage to face the dawning of the new day.
“Good morning,” she sang cheerfully as she entered the kitchen door.
The look on her aunt’s face made her heart stop. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Your father—” Grace handed her a telegram. “This just came, dear.”
Raine read the short message, its words chilling her soul.
RICHARD THOMAS VERY ILL STOP PLEASE COME QUICKLY STOP PASSAGE BOOKED ON THE CORNUCOPIA STOP AUGUST 15 STOP
The telegram was signed by Dr. Delfin, an old family friend.
“August 15th? That’s tomorrow!” She was stunned. “I need to pack and. . .”
“Slow down there, Raine.” Uncle John’s hand on her shoulder was gentle. “You’ll have plenty of time.”