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The Inheritance

By Pamela S. Thibodeaux

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“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, he took 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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