THE INHERITANCE
Chapter One
“They say that life begins at
forty.” Rebecca Sinclair rolled over and pulled the covers up to her
chin. “Boy is that ever far from the truth,” she muttered, realizing
that here she was on the downhill side of thirty-nine and counting
the hours with dread and fear of what the next year would bring. “If
this year is anything like the last one, I might not make it.”
So much had happened in one short
year beginning with the death of her husband. The day started out
like any other, an ordinary day in the ordinary, everyday life of
Jim and Rebecca Sinclair. Only it ended far from ordinary when Jim’s
car skidded off the road into a ravine. Investigations later
reported that a massive heart attack and not the accident had taken
his life.
She still couldn’t believe it, a
heart attack. At forty-one, Jim seemed to be the picture of health.
He’d always taken excellent care of himself, eating right and
exercising. Work hard, play hard, and live right had been his motto,
and he’d done just that. Right up to the end.
Fighting back memories and tears,
Rebecca tried desperately to snuggle in the too cold bed and to
concentrate on the happier times of the past when she’d looked
forward to turning forty. When I turn forty, my youngest will be
eighteen and out of school, and I’ll be through raising kids! How
many times had she said that, laughing and carefree, looking forward
to the day?
“Well, at least that much is
true,” she murmured. The phone rang, jolting her out of her reverie.
Picking up the receiver, she was greeted with a chorus of “Happy
Birthday” from her son. His warbled rendition made her giggle.
“Thank you, but doesn’t all that Broadway training include singing
lessons?”
Jeff laughed. “Yes, but the
acting lessons allow—even encourage me—to do things out of the
ordinary. Have you heard from Debbie?”
“Not yet. We still haven’t gotten
used to the time difference. Besides, I imagine she’s pretty busy
since school just started.”
“Yeah, busy studying to be the
greatest Medical Scientist of the twenty-first century,” Jeff said,
pride in his sister evident in his voice. “Finding cures for all the
plagues of the twentieth century…Diabetes, Cancer, Heart Disease,
and Aids.”
“If anyone can do it, Debbie can,”
his mother assured. “So what’s on your agenda for the day?”
“More of the usual, classes,
rehearsals and work.”
“Well, you take care of yourself,
Honey. Thanks for the call.”
“You’re welcome, Mom. Have a
great day!” he replied, before hanging up.
Rebecca hung up the phone as her
throat tightened and tears pricked her eyes. Emptiness closed in on
the familiar sense of joy and pride in her children. Now what? Her
heart cried out to God. What’s next? Jim and I were always so
excited about this time in our lives. Now that he’s gone too, what
am I going to do?
She’d always looked forward to
turning forty; now forty seemed so old, too old to start over and
yet, too young to give up. Burying her face in the pillow, she let
the tears flow.
“I will never leave you nor
forsake you.”
Rebecca heard the words with rare
clarity, as though Jesus were standing beside the bed. “That’s
great, Lord. But are You really here? You aren’t standing by the bed
where I can touch You. I can’t see Your face or feel Your arms
around me,” she muttered, burying her face in the pillow. “But, I
won’t leave You and I won’t give up if You don’t leave me. No matter
how hard it gets. That’s a promise,” she whispered.
Then she felt it: Peace. A
soothing calmness washed over her as it had when Jim took her in his
arms. Only this was different, deeper, and Rebecca knew the Lord was
holding her.
Again, the tears came, but this
time they were tears of relief. “Thank You,” she whispered. “Oh,
God, thank You.”
Burrowing deeper into the
mattress, she drifted off to dream once more in the early morning
hours. And dream she did. She was flying, not literally, but almost.
She could feel the warm, fragrant air on her cheeks as the car made
its way up the winding road. Lilacs bloomed; clusters of purple in
shrubs so green it made her eyes hurt, and the smell. Oh. She took a
deep breath and felt it clear down to her soul. The scents dark,
rich and so full of flavor that she could almost taste it. Grapes
and flowers and....
“She left everything to you.”
The voice came out of nowhere,
jerking Rebecca awake. She sat up, her heart thundering in her
chest. She could still feel the warm air on her cheeks and smell the
rich fragrances lingering in her mind. Running a shaky hand through
her hair, she looked around. She was home, safe in her bed. Relief
poured through her. “Jesus, I must be losing my mind,” she muttered.
Throwing back the covers, she
climbed from the bed, padded her way into the kitchen and turned on
the coffee pot. While waiting for the coffee to brew, Rebecca put
away her clean dishes then watered the ivy in the window. Her mind
wandered back to the dream and the voice that woke her.
There was something achingly
familiar about that place…the long winding road…the glint of silver
in her rear-view mirror, like a reflection off glass or metal or
something…the smell of lilacs and grapes...
Shaking off the lingering
memories, she flipped the devotional calendar to see what scripture
was in store for her today. I am the vine you are the branch,
apart from me, you can do nothing. Once again, the scent of
lilacs and grapes filled her mind, lingered in the air. This is
crazy, she thought. I can’t even remember the last time—if ever—that
I’ve smelled lilacs or grapes, rich, ripe and still on the vine. A
chill washed over her skin. I have to get out of here. Pouring her
coffee into a travel mug, she dressed and went for a drive.
As if on automatic pilot, she
backed out of the driveway, wound her way through the neighborhood
then headed up highway eighteen toward North Bend and onto
Snoqualmie Falls. The radio announcer reported that a heavy mist
rolled in off Puget Sound. If so, it was only to be burned away by
the rapidly rising sun in a sky so clear that she could see Mt.
Baker on the horizon. Despite this, the promise of an early fall
chilled the air. Rebecca lowered the car window hoping the crisp
breeze would help clear her mind.
Located between Snoqualmie and
Fall City, Washington, Snoqualmie Falls ranged one hundred feet
higher than Niagara but were not as vast and had always been one of
Rebecca’s favorite places to visit. There were trails leading to the
bottom of the cascade as well as around it and lookouts
strategically placed for those who had no desire to take a hike
through the woods. Parking her car, she grabbed her jacket and
headed down a one-mile trek.
The thick foliage of lush
forestry surrounding the falls nearly eclipsed the bright morning
sun. Rebecca knew her lack of exercise over the past year would
require that she make several stops on her way back up the trail,
but for now, she hurried toward the base.
Standing at the bottom, she
looked up, awed by the splendid beauty of water thundering over
rock. Droplets bounced in the air like crystal prisms, reflecting
sunlight in little bursts of color like tiny rainbows dancing on the
wind. Wrapping the jacket more snuggly around her,
Rebecca found a huge rock at the
foot of a tree and sat down, hoping the majestic view would soothe
her troubled mind. She took a deep breath and inhaled the crisp,
clean mountain air, eager for it to wash away the tension she felt.
Instead of the peace she craved,
memories of the last time she and Jim came here crowded her mind.
They’d laughed and talked, teased and flirted like teenagers, not
people who’d been married twenty-plus years, then he'd picked her
up, pretending that he was going to throw her in the water.
Tears pricked her eyes and burned
her throat. Rebecca stood up and walked to the edge of the bank.
Only a few feet separated her from the raging water below. It would
be so easy to slip into the water and disappear forever.
The words seemed clear, as though
someone actually whispered them in her ear. The thought was so dark,
so menacing—so tempting—that she took a deliberate step back.
Wrapping her arms around her waist, Rebecca considered once more
that she must surely be losing her mind. A place that was known to
remind one of God’s glory, to refresh your soul and bring you back
to life, a place she’d always enjoyed, held nothing but memories for
her now. Memories that should’ve filled her with joy wrenched her
heart with pain instead.
Turning away from the bank,
Rebecca headed backup the trail knowing that she wouldn’t find the
solace she so desperately needed. About halfway up, the muscles in
her legs screamed for relief and she could no longer see for the
tears that blurred her vision. Sobs shook her shoulders, hindering
her ability to put one foot in front of the other. Finding a bench
she crumbled onto it until spent, she could only pray for the
strength to carry on.
Oh God, what am I going to do? I
feel so useless. Jim is gone, the kids are grown and pursuing their
own dreams, I’ve never been anything but a housewife and mother.
What do You have for me to do now?
“For I know the plans I
have for you, a plan for your good, not for your destruction.”
“That’s great, Lord, but can you
fill me in?” Rebecca sat quietly, waiting for the Lord to show her
what He had in store for her life. When He remained silent, His plan
still a mystery, she knew the only thing left to do was wait. Making
her way back up the trail and to her car, she headed home.
She walked up on the porch with a
heartfelt sigh of relief. Never had she welcomed coming home to such
degree. Not in the past year anyway. Sticking the key in the knob to
unlock the door, she reached for the mail in her box. Scent wafted
from the packet of envelopes to tease her nostrils and made her
smile. Her letter carrier had a habit of putting scented stickers on
the mail. What is that smell? She wondered, pressing the packet to
her nose while taking a deep, inhaling breath. Lilacs. Her hand
trembled. Clasping the packet firmly to keep from dropping it, she
fumbled with the key, desperately trying to open the door before her
knees gave way.
****
U. S. Postal Carrier Raymond
Jacobey watched while crossing the street as Rebecca Sinclair lifted
the packet of mail to her nose and smiled. He’d taken over this
route less than a month after Mr. Sinclair passed away. From the
moment he laid eyes on her, the little widow, with jet-black hair
and eyes so rich in color that they reminded him of violets, had
captured his heart.
At approximately five-feet-two
inches, she wasn’t a raving beauty. Her eyes were a bit too
wide-set, but fringed with thick, black lashes that most women would
die for. Her cheekbones were too high for the small, baby-like face
and, like most of the women he knew, she constantly battled with
that infamous extra ten pounds. But there was something about her
slightly rounded figure and soft features that tugged at his heart.
“Morning Ms. Sinclair,” he
greeted.
“Hello Mr. Jacobey.” Her voice
trembled and her face paled.
Ray noticed her wavering smile
and the haunted look in her eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked,
concerned at the paleness of her complexion and the thin sheen of
perspiration dotting her forehead.
Rebecca shrugged, swallowed hard.
“A little stressed.”
“Anything I can do for you?”
Wiping her brow with the back of
her hand, she shook her head and smiled, “Weird dreams and voices in
the wind.”
“I thought that only happened to
me,” he commented with a grin.A charming flush tinted her cheeks.
“Well, it’s never happened to me
before. Can’t say as I like it either. Would you like a cup of
coffee or tea?”
Raymond didn’t hesitate. “I’d
love one.” The Sinclair home was the last on his route before lunch.
Many times, he’d accepted her offer of coffee or tea, hoping to ease
the sting of loneliness that clouded those pretty indigo eyes.
Putting down his mailbag, he sat on the porch swing and waited while
she brewed them each a cup.
He’d learned a lot about the
little widow in the past year. Married at seventeen, she’d followed
her husband across the country during his twenty years in the Air
Force. Upon retirement, Jim Sinclair had taken a position at the
Boeing plant in Seattle, working as a mechanic on the huge engines
used to propel the big jets. Her oldest child, a son named Jeffrey,
graduated high school three years ago and moved to New York to
pursue an acting career. Her youngest, Debbie, graduated this past
May and now attended college in France.
In one of their conversations,
Rebecca confided that she'd been shy as a child. Marriage at such a
young age and the constant moving during her husband’s Air Force
career hadn’t made it easy for her to make or maintain many
friendships. Now that her children were grown and there were no more
ball games, band concerts or PTA meetings, she had no idea what to
do next.
Raymond’s heart ached for her and
had he the intestinal fortitude to ask—and if she said yes—he’d
gladly marry her and give her plenty to do for the rest of her life.
Need curled in the pit of his stomach at the thought and once again
he felt the familiar sense of frustration at his own shyness and
insecurity.
In the kitchen, Rebecca brewed a
fresh pot of coffee. Knowing their visits usually consumed most of
his lunch hour, she made sandwiches and thought about what she’d
learned regarding Raymond Jacobey in the last year.
A wanderer at heart, his biggest
desire was to see the world. Flat feet kept him out of the military
so, fresh out of high school Raymond obtained his first job with the
U.S. Post Office in his hometown. Whenever wanderlust took hold,
he’d pick several places on the map, send in applications and
resumes then wait for a job offer. Once that was received, he’d put
in for a transfer and move onto continue his career in a whole new
state, city or town, enabling him to see at least some of the
country in which he resided. He very seldom stayed in one place more
than a year or so and occasionally took a college course or two, but
that was as deep as his roots went in any given place. In the past
eighteen years, he’d live and worked in fifteen different locations.
Putting the sandwich ingredients
away, Rebecca smiled to herself as Ray’s image swam before her eyes.
He wasn’t a big man, five-feet-eight-inches or so and though not
male model material he was incredibly cute and sweet. His
sandy-blond hair constantly needed trimming but he always sported a
smile and his gold-flecked green eyes always danced with humor and
joy. His shoulders were broad, his arms muscular, not bulging but
well proportioned for his height. His legs were slender and well
toned from the walking he did and he sported a healthy tan all year
around.
Little did he know it, but he’d
saved her life more than once in the past year. He’d always made a
point of talking with her and never left the mail without making
sure that she was up and about and doing okay; even sitting and
sharing a cup of coffee with her on more than one occasion.
She had a hunch that his feelings
for her went deeper than just plain friendship, but having been
married over half of her life she had no idea what to do about them
or how she felt in return. One thing was certain; he’d been a
lifesaver to her several times since Jim’s death. With his friendly
smile and laughing green eyes, she looked forward to seeing him
every day, especially after Debbie went off to school, but beyond
that, she hadn’t a clue.
Pouring the coffee in a
decorative carafe to keep it warm, she placed it—along with cups,
sugar and cream—as well as the sandwiches and two glasses of milk on
a huge serving tray. His smile welcomed her when she walked back out
on the porch. Rising from the swing, het ook the tray from her and
set it on the small patio table then waited for her to curl up in
the rocking chair as she usually did before taking his seat once
more.
“You didn’t have to go to all
this trouble,” he remarked, reaching for a sandwich and a glass of
milk.
“It’s no trouble,” Rebecca
insisted. “Makes me feel useful and needed again,” she admitted, her
voice cracking with emotion. The gentle light in his eyes matched
his tender grin.
“Well, in that case, I’ll expect
lunch every day.”
Rebecca couldn’t help but smile
in return. “Oh, is that a fact?”
“It’s my job to serve, Ma’am,” he
said in his most professional voice. “And if making me lunch makes
you feel needed and useful, then I’m more than happy to oblige,” he
assured with a chuckle.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rebecca
promised.
“Now, you want to tell me about
those weird dreams and voices in the wind?”
Rebecca frowned as the dream came
back with vivid clarity. “Ever dream about someplace and when you
wake up, swear that you’ve been there before?”
“Sometimes, is that what
happened?” When she nodded, he continued. “What about those voices
you mentioned, part of the dream?”
“Sort of, but not really. There
was a voice in the dream. It’s what woke me. But the voice in the
wind was different. It was dark, menacing and tempted me to dive
into Snoqualmie Falls.” She shivered at the memory.
“God, I feel like I’m losing my
mind,” she whispered.
Ray hated the sad, haunted look
in her eyes and wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her.
Instead, he leaned over and placed his hand over her trembling one.
“You’re not losing your mind,” he assured.
“Then what’s wrong with me?”
Calling upon his limited
psychology, he tried to answer. “As for the place in the dream,
you’ve probably visited it sometime or another in your life. Or
maybe you’ve seen it on TV or read about it in a book. Hence, the
reason it seems so familiar. And the voice, well that’s the voice of
grief trying to convince you to give up instead of moving on with
your life. I, for one, am glad you didn’t listen to it.”
His voice gentle, he continued.
“It’s been a year, Rebecca, it’s time for you to start letting go
and move forward.”
“And do what?” she asked. “All
I’ve ever been was a housewife and mother. I have no skills other
than those needed to maintain a home and family and no education
outside of the G.E.D. I received after I was married. What good am I
anymore?”
“I’m sure God has other plans for
you, Becca, and I’m sure He’ll reveal them in His own perfect time.
Just be patient, and promise me you won’t give up.”
His gaze held hers in a tender
plea, tugging at Rebecca’s heart. “I promise,” she whispered,
sighed. “Guess it’s just a turning forty thing.”
He smiled again and gave her hand
a gentle squeeze. “Who’s turning forty, surely not you?” The look
she gave him said more than words. He chuckled, “When?”
“Today.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have
bought you lunch instead of allowing you to wait on me.”
“Oh, and how do you suppose I
should have done that?” she asked, her eyebrow arched in question.
“Just come out and say, ‘oh, by-the-way, tomorrow’s my birthday.’”
Ray grinned at her tone. “Forty
is just a number. Besides, haven’t you heard that life begins at
forty?”
“That’s what I used to think.
Now, I’m not so sure. At this point, forty feels like a hundred,
like I’m too young to quit and too old to start over.”
“Nonsense, women are doing all
sorts of new things at forty nowadays, even fifty. Have you thought
about going back to school?”
She shook her head, grateful that
he’d changed the subject. Their visit continued on a much lighter
note than it began.
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