Heritage Read online

  That was surprising, considering how she felt about having children. “How very thoughtful of you.”

  She opened her door. “Before I left I got to know Lindy. She’s a real cutie. I saw this doll and had to get it for her. I couldn’t bring something back for her and not her brother.”

  “Sounds like maybe you’ve become attached to her.”

  “I guess I have. She makes me wonder what it could be like to have kids of my own one day.”

  He tried not to smile too broadly. He didn’t want her to know how happy that made him. Was that the hurdle they needed to cross before diving into a relationship? He sensed it wasn’t. But what then? He would just have to give it a little more time. . .and prayer.

  Will held out the little yellow book to her. It was a Native American history of the local tribes written by Chief Blackbird. “Open to page twenty-four.”

  She took it and opened it. Near the bottom of the page he’d highlighted a name. “Alvin Coe?” she whispered.

  “He was a traveling missionary from Ohio in 1840.”

  “Do you think I’m related to him?”

  “That’s hard to say. It sounds like he went back to Ohio, but anything could have happened after that. He could have returned or, maybe, one of his descendants or relatives.”

  She held the book out to him. “I’ll have to see if I can find out anymore information on him to see if I’m related.”

  “Keep the book. I can easily get another.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m really sorry you felt like I was slighting Charlotte’s side of the family. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I have spent all my teenaged and adult life focusing solely on my Ojibwa heritage. I forget I have other ancestors.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  But he did. If he ever hoped to have a lasting relationship with her. “I have some pretty unsavory ancestors in my French and British lineage.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t have to doctor your heritage to be acceptable.”

  Her defense stance chilled him. “I haven’t doctored it. I just try to hide from it.”

  “What’s the difference? Change it, ignore it. It’s still not the truth.”

  Ouch. That put him in his place. “I can hardly be proud of murders and traitors, can I?”

  “You don’t have to be proud of them, but hiding from them doesn’t negate the fact you are still related to them. And all your French and British ancestors couldn’t be bad.”

  It was just that the bad ones stuck out. “My family has their own personal Benedict Arnold. He told the British just where to land on Mackinac Island and how to take the fort. I grew up being teased and some kids wouldn’t be friends with me. They would say that they were afraid I’d turn on them like Eduard Gilbert who turned on the Americans whom he’d befriended. And there have been others. I come from a long line of scoundrels.”

  “And I come from a long line of people who want nothing to do with me. Aren’t we supposed to find our worth in God?”

  That’s what he’d recently learned for himself. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for snapping at you that way. Christopher’s family. . .let’s just say they bent history to suit themselves, and Christopher wanted to erase my lineage altogether to suit the Winstons. Changing it, bending it, ignoring it doesn’t change who we are.”

  “You’re right. We are both children of God, and that is what really counts.”

  She smiled at that.

  Good. He’d managed to change the tone back to positive.

  ❧

  Rachel sat at the office desk and stared up at her ancestral wall. There were exactly two pieces of paper pinned to the white-papered wall, and she wasn’t even sure they belonged. Grandpa, what were you doing when you gathered all this stuff? Is there any reason to any of it? Am I chasing a rainbow? So far all her sorting had been a big waste of time. She took a deep breath as she surveyed the room. There had to be one place, one box that her grandpa was collecting all the really important information in. Her pot of gold. But where? Maybe the master bedroom or the dresser in the spare bedroom?

  The dresser in the spare room held no surprises. . .and no treasure. Junk and useless papers. She glared at the boxes stacked in the corner. A quick dig in each box should tell her if it was worth further inspection. One by one, the boxes were strewn across the floor along with their contents. Next, the boxes from under the bed. By the time she got to the closet, there was no floor space left; she took those boxes to the living room to disassemble. Nothing. She pulled out the boxes from the top of the closet in the master bedroom and those from under the bed.

  She didn’t find the end of the rainbow in either room. All she’d gained was a huge mess all over her house. Maybe there was no pot of gold to find.

  She went back to the office and sighed. No gold, just a whole lot of boxes, full of nothing. She was tired of this and decided just to give up on the search for today. Her gaze settled on a bookshelf. What had her grandfather enjoyed reading? She knelt in front of it and scanned the selections. There were a few novels, some books about Mackinac Island and Native Americans, and some Bible reference books. On the end of the top shelf was a black leather Bible. She pulled it out. Was her grandfather a Christian? That would be so wonderful to see him in heaven one day and finally get to meet him.

  She sat in the desk chair and opened the cover. There was a list of strange names and dates. She turned the page. To Louise Rogers from Victor and Sarah Rogers, On your 16th Birthday. This wasn’t even her grandfather’s Bible. Who was Louise? Or Victor and Sarah?

  A knock pulled her from the book. She went to answer the door.

  Will held up a flat box. “I brought blueberry pie for dessert. Store-bought, of course.”

  She blinked at him. Dinner! She jerked up her wrist to look at her watch. “It’s that late already? Will, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even go to the store. I don’t know if I have anything to make a decent meal. I got so wrapped up in things today.”

  Will’s eyes widened at the mess before him. “I see that. Did something happen today?”

  “Hmm.” She glanced at the mess.

  “I thought you had decided to not spread things out so much to organize.”

  She waved a hand across the living room. “This isn’t organized.”

  “I kind of figured that.”

  “I was hoping to find one box that my grandpa might have been collecting all the important papers in, because frankly, I don’t think anything we’ve found so far is worth much.”

  “I didn’t think so either but didn’t want to say anything. You were so determined to find something. I just can’t believe that what we’ve gone through so far is all Dancing Turtle found. He said he had birth certificates and things that were of more value than what we’ve seen so far. Did you find a box with everything in it?”

  “No. But look at what I did find. What do you make of it?” She handed him the Bible.

  He opened the cover. He scanned the list of names and dates. He turned the page. “Who is Louise Rogers? And why did Dancing Turtle have her Bible?”

  “I have no clue. I haven’t come across the name Louise Rogers before or Victor and Sarah, or any of those names listed in the front.”

  He turned a couple more pages. Every blank page had names written on it. A smile spread across his face. “This could be good, real good.” He fanned the pages to the middle of the Bible. He stopped at a genealogy page. At the top was written Louise Rogers and Charles Dubois married June 11, 1926.

  Rachel took back the Bible. “My grandfather was married to Louise Rogers? What about Charlotte Coe? I thought she was my grandmother.”

  “Look at the date. This was before Dancing Turtle was born. Charles and Louise were your grandfather’s and Twin Bear’s parents.”

&
nbsp; “My great-grandparents?” She ran her hand down the page of names. Charlotte Coe was listed, Rachel’s mother, and there she was. Between Charlotte and Charles was written not married. Next to her mother’s name, where her father should be, was blank. So no one knew who her father was. Her mother had taken that information to her grave.

  “Can I see what’s on the next page?” Will asked.

  Will’s gentle request pulled her back. She turned the page.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  The next page was Father’s Family Tree. Charles Dubois senior was listed first, then his parents and grandparents and their parents. Three generations back. Seven generations in all. Tears blurred her vision. She could no longer read any of the names. This is where she came from. Thank you, Great-grandma Louise, for recording all of this.

  “This is the way people used to record, births, deaths, and marriages. Sometimes these were the only records. I’ll bet the next page is Louise’s family tree. This is what you’ve been looking for.”

  She nodded and blinked several times but still couldn’t read anything. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.” What better place to keep your family than in the Bible. Thank You, Lord, for helping me find this.

  ❧

  Once again, Rachel sat in the desk chair and stared up at her wall of ancestors, but now it actually had something on it. She had spent the day transferring the family information from Great-grandma Louise’s Bible to the wall, but it was late and time to head to bed.

  One of the sheets of paper, which she’d taped to the ceiling to continue working backwards from Dancing Turtle, drifted to the floor. She had used the last bit of tape to stick that one up. She had found that roll of adhesive tape in the top drawer, the only drawer she’d been in. She shuffled the pens and paper around in that drawer but found no more tape, so she started opening drawers. When she opened the bottom drawer she stopped halfway through closing it. There was no tape, but a file folder had Charlotte Coe written on it. She held her breath as she took it out along with several others. One said My Family, another said Lewis’s Family. Each folder had birth certificates and other documents. This is what she had been looking for. She pulled out a spiral notebook from the same drawer and a leather book.

  The leather book was a journal titled My Search for You.

  She began skimming the first entry.

  I know you think that by going away two brothers will mend their relationship, but it was broken before you ever stepped foot on the island.

  She read a few more similar entries and soon realized they were all directed to Charlotte Coe. She flipped past a few pages.

  You have hidden well.

  Where are you?

  I’m catching up to you. I searched for evidence that you have given birth to our child. A daughter. Barbara. I like that name. I am praying hard that you don’t give her away before I find you.

  You are always one step ahead of me.

  I wish I could tell you that Lewis and I have put the past to rest, but it has not happened.

  You have disappeared, but I have found our daughter, alas it is too late. The paper said she was survived by a daughter. Rachel.

  She choked back a sob at the sight of her name. He never gave up hope.

  I pray still for my brother that if he will not speak to me that he will enter the Lord’s family, and we will speak once more in heaven.

  Then the last entry.

  Finally, I have found you. And you are so close.

  An envelope from a bill was slipped in between that page and the next. An address in St. Ignace was scrawled on it. Whose was it? There was no name.

  It had to be her grandma’s. She’s alive. This was too exciting to keep to herself.

  Sixteen

  Ring.

  Will startled awake and snatched the phone next to his bed. “ ’Lo.”

  “I hit the jackpot!”

  “Rachel?”

  “You have to come over right away.”

  He picked up his bedside clock and moved it around until he could focus on the numbers. “It’s not even six.” Saturday was his one day a week to sleep in a little.

  “Oh, Will, I am so sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about the time. You go back to sleep. Come over when you get up.” Click.

  He fumbled to put the phone back into place. Just another hour and he’d be good. Jackpot. What had she found? It had to be something good. She sounded really excited. He opened his eyes. He could either lie there for the next hour wondering what she found or just get up. He threw back the covers. Brr.

  He turned on his coffeepot before jumping into the shower. Once dressed and his thermos full, he headed across the street. When Rachel opened the door, he held up the thermos. “I brought coffee.”

  She let him in. “I am so sorry for waking you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I had to get up anyway to answer the phone.”

  She pulled a face. “Very funny.”

  “Let me have my first cup of coffee, then you can show me what you found. You want a cup?”

  “More than you know.”

  Those were the same clothes she wore yesterday. “Did you stay up all night or just sleep in your clothes?”

  “When I found the ‘box’ we’ve been looking for, I got so excited. I just kept sifting through the papers and figuring out where everyone fit.”

  “Where did you find the box? I thought you opened all of them.”

  “Follow me.” She headed for the office. “I did open every box, but they weren’t in a box.”

  He followed her to the paper strewn office. “Looks like something exploded in here.” She just couldn’t file papers in a neat orderly way so a person could find them again.

  “Don’t step on any of them.”

  It was kind of hard not to. “I’ll just stand in the doorway to be safe, and you can fill me in on what happened here.” His gaze traveled up the paper covered wall and kept going. “Do you know that you have paper on your ceiling now?”

  She tiptoed to the desk. “That wasn’t working out once I found the stash. I needed to keep going back and found I wanted to shuffle things around and once they were on the wall it was too hard. So I moved everything to the floor.”

  “So where did you find all this?” Some of the papers looked like actual birth certificates, others were copies, some printed out info from the computer.

  “I was sitting here at the desk looking up at my wall of ancestors, the ones I copied from the Bible, and one of the papers fell off the ceiling. I went searching for more tape. I figured there were just supplies and stuff to take care of bills. That’s all I used to have in mine. But this bottom drawer had all this and more.” She waved a hand over the room then picked up a handful of file folders. “All these papers were in these files. I think my grandpa had them in some sort of order.”

  “And you undid that order and tossed them on the floor.”

  “I didn’t toss them, and I numbered each paper on the back lightly in pencil. I can put every one of them back in order. I just had to see everyone all at once.”

  That made him feel better.

  “But the best of all were the two journals.” She stood and came over to him in the doorway, holding a spiral notebook. She handed it to him. “This one’s for you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It says so inside.”

  He opened the front cover. In the event I am not around to give this to Will Tobin, please see that he receives it.

  He could only stare at Dancing Turtle’s words. “What’s in here?”

  “Well, I confess I flipped through it but didn’t really read it. It looks like all the information he gathered he wrote down for you like he promised. I figure if there is anything there that I don’t already have, you will let me know.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t actually read this.”

  “Why? Are you going to be stingy and not share?”

  “If you want it, you can keep it
. It’s your family, and he left everything in the house to you. This was in the house.”

  “I wouldn’t mind making a copy of it just so I have the family’s story in his words.”

  He nodded toward her empty hands. “You said there were two journals.”

  “The other one is in the living room.” She pointed out of the room. “It’s the reason I called so early.” She picked up a leather journal off the couch and curled her feet under her as she sat. “This one seems to be an accounting of a forty-eight-year quest.”

  “For what?”

  “Not ‘for what.’ For whom. Charlotte Coe. It’s like one long love letter to her. I think he found her before he died.” She flipped to the back of the book. “ ‘Finally, I have found you. And you are so close.’ I think this might be my grandmother’s address.” She handed him an envelope with an address written on it in pencil.

  “There’s no name. This could be anybody’s.”

  “But it was tucked in the page where he says he found her.”

  “Found who? It doesn’t say who he found.” She was setting herself up again.

  “This whole journal is written to Charlotte Coe, just like he wrote that one to you.”

  “Charlotte Coe could be deceased.”

  “There was no second date by her name in the Bible to indicate when she died. Why are you being so negative?”

  “I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

  “Denying she exists won’t change how she feels about me.”

  He took the envelope to the phone and dialed information.

  She came up beside him. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting Charlotte’s number so you can call her.” He gave the operator the information.

  “I’m sorry,” the brusque voice of the operator came back. “There is no number for that address.”

  Will gave a heavy sigh as he hung up.

  “Did you get it?”

  “No. Her number is unlisted.” He turned to her. There was only one way for her to talk to Charlotte now. “When do you want to go?”

  “Today.”

  “Bundle up.”

  She tossed her arms around him. “Thank you.”

  He was tempted to kiss her right then while she was in his arms, but she just thought he was her friend. When, Lord?