Rachel the Warrior

Rachel the Warrior

Part Three

by G. Lawrence

Old friends and new problems

Having fallen out with Tom's parents and lost her pregnancy in an accident, Rachel needs time to think. She is 29 years old, engaged to Tom, wealthy and successful, but controversy continues to follow her, for many distrust the powerful world-wide health database she created. The novel is being presented in eight parts, two chapters per episode.

* * * * * *

Chapter Five

RETURN TO KETCHUM

A black SUV pulled into the trailer village near a narrow blue lake. Tall mountains and pine trees surrounded them. The SUV was followed by an RV, which parked across the tar-covered road.

"Here we are," Pamela said, stopping before a green mobile home resting under a lush oak tree. The red trim looked freshly painted.

"Thank you so much for driving me. It's easier than taking the bus," Rachel said. "It will only take a moment to get my bags."

"Our bags," Pamela corrected.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked.

"I'm staying. With you. In Ketchum."

"You can't do that. You have a corporation to run."

"My most important responsibility is sitting right here next to me."

"Mother, I can't ask you to do this. I may be here a long time."

"Then we'll be here a long time. Let's get our luggage, I need to use the restroom."

Pamela hopped out and waved to the RV. Big Bob waved back, then motioned to his assistants. Darnell and Maverick began unloading equipment, moving into a mobile home across the lane.

"That's a lot of security," Rachel said.

"The last time you were in Ketchum, no one knew who you were. They thought you were Katie Smith. Now everyone knows who you are, and that means a lot of security."

"Life used to be so much simpler," Rachel sighed.

"Burning bridges, afterglow; life has one true fact. Regardless where the journey goes, the path does not lead back," Pamela recited.

"Have you been reading my poetry again?"

"I brought your poetry books and your Jane Austen books," Pamela explained. "You are not going to spend all your time on a computer."

"I'm getting a job."

"A job?"

"I'm going to ask Mrs. Johnson for my job back. Cooking in the diner."

"Honey, you're a billionaire. You don't need to work in a kitchen."

"Yes, I do."

Rachel took a duffel bag from the back of the truck and went up the steps to her old trailer. Donated to the town clinic for visiting specialists, Dr. Meadows was quick to let her have it back for a few months. It hadn't changed. Forty feet long, with two bedrooms, a living room and kitchen, and a customized bathroom, the trailer had all the amenities she needed. Rachel remembered doing much of the repair work herself, while referring to the internet. But as her pregnancy became difficult, the villagers pitched in to make it a home.

Pamela was right behind her. It had taken two years to find Rachel after her mysterious disappearance, and this is where she'd finally found her. The modest décor felt like Rachel. The real Rachel. Not big houses and fancy clothes.

"I was so clueless," Pamela suddenly said.

"Clueless?"

"When we first met, I thought you were a gold-digger. Using that sexy body of yours to get what you wanted."

"You fired me," Rachel recalled.

"And worse. Not a day goes by that I don't regret what I did."

"Mother, you've made up for that so many times. I love you so much. That doesn't mean you need to exile yourself in the mountains."

"I am not leaving you alone. Not now, when you need me most. Are we communicating?"

"Yes, Mother," Rachel conceded.

There was a tap on the door.

"Don't mean to bother anyone," McLane said. "Crew's digging in at my mother's old trailer, and we have a motel down in Harley Flats to screen cars coming up the road."

"You aren't bothering us, Bob. Use whatever resources you need. You realize money is no object?" Pamela said.

"Yes, Mrs. Benson. We'll be discreet, but I won't be taking any chances," McLane replied. He paused, looking at Rachel. "Yes, Missy?"

"Nothing, Mr. McLane. I don't care for myself, but Mother must be safe. Do what you need to," Rachel said.

McLane went back to his headquarters. He was no stranger to Ketchum, activating a map to mark strategic locations.

The ladies unpacked. Rachel was surprised to find Pamela had loaded more into the SUV than she realized, including extra clothes, hiking boots, and a selection of fine wines.

"You came prepared," Rachel observed.

"We aren't going to spend our time together hunched in a dark room," Pamela insisted. "You're planning to work on Level 14, aren't you? Even though it's dangerous?"

"Yes."

"You devoted yourself to the Level 12 extension, and though it was hard, I sensed your joy in the project. You were bringing affordable healthcare to the whole world. There is no joy in Level 14. What makes it so different?"

"I've discovered troubling complications. I'm not sure what the consequences will be."

"I can't stop you, but I will protect you. Don't think I won't."

"I'm a grown woman. I don't need a babysitter."

"You're my daughter."

Rachel tried to give Pamela the stare. The one that couldn't be argued with. Pamela would not relent.

"I get the first bath," Rachel said, finding her robe.

They had guests that evening. Sadie Johnson arrived with Dr. Catherine Meadows. Rachel made meatloaf. Pamela poured the wine.

"It's good to see you again, Sadie," Pamela said when Rachel seemed too quiet. "How's business been?"

"Stayed good, even after Katie left. Thanks again for teaching Manuel, Alice, and Little Manuel how to make all those dishes," Sadie said, a buxom black lady with curly gray hair and vivid brown eyes.

"It wasn't hard," Rachel replied.

"Are you back as Katie Smith, or Rachel Montgomery?" Dr. Meadows asked, slim and medium height, now in her late forties. She kept her touched-up blonde hair trimmed short. Blue eyes gazed out from behind wire-rimmed glasses.

"I don't know. It would be nice to be Katie again."

Pamela, Sadie, and Catherine shared glances.

"Katie it is," Sadie said. "I'll spread the word. All of your friends will want to see you."

"I'm sorry not to have stayed in touch. I've never been good at that," Rachel apologized.

"Honey, you invented a company that's providing healthcare to a hundred million people," Sadie said.

"And we know about the rest," Cathy said. "How has your condition been? Is your medication working?"

"Rachel still has episodes," Pamela answered when Rachel didn't respond. "But she keeps getting better all the time. She has a therapist who makes house calls."

"Dr. Belcher doesn't make house calls," Rachel disagreed.

"Susanne does when I ask her to," Pamela insisted with a frown.

"What are your plans?" Sadie asked. "Fishing? Hiking?"

"I want my job back," Rachel said.

"At the café?" Sadie asked.

"Yes."

"I already have three cooks, honey," Sadie said.

"You don't need to pay me," Rachel offered. "Or I can buy the diner. How much do you want for it?"

"You can make breakfast, same pay as before," Sadie agreed. "And I'm not selling my restaurant."

"Need a waitress?" Pamela asked.

"You?" Cathy said. "Aren't you a billionaire two or three times over?"

"I need to stay close to my daughter," Pamela explained.

Sadie and Cathy looked at each other. There was more going on than they thought.

"Have you ever been a waitress?" Sadie asked.

"No," Pamela replied.

"What have you done?" Sadie said.

"I'm a corporate lawyer."

"No doubt you could get an order right, but I don't need my customers cross-examined. How about you be a hostess? That way I don't have to worry about you dropping my dishes."

"Thank you, Sadie. Thank you very much," Pamela said. "I won't be taking a paycheck. It would put me in a bad tax bracket."

They all laughed.

* * * * * *

Rachel was up before dawn, putting on her warmest coat. The mid-January weather was frosty. Finding Pamela still asleep, she gave her a kiss on the cheek and quietly slipped outside. McLane was waiting for her.

"I can walk. It's not far," Rachel said.

"Walk or drive, I don't care. But I'm going with you," McLane replied.

Rachel saw he'd found a small pickup truck for getting around town. Easier than moving the RV. She climbed in, puffing against the cold. The drive to Sadie's only took a few minutes.

The small café, nestled between the general store and the gas station, was best suited to sixteen patrons, but could squeeze in twenty. A checkerboard floor and candy-striped wallpaper were reminiscent of the 1960s. Framed photos showed local landmarks. Mountains. Lakes. A waterfall.

"Early as always," Sadie said, letting them in the back door. McLane quickly found a table that would allow him to see the kitchen while watching the dining area. He had a laptop for his consulting work. Rachel rushed into the kitchen.

"Hi, Katie. Heard you were back," Manuel greeted, dressed in whites and firing up the stove. A big man in his early forties, the longtime cook had thick arms, curly black hair, and a ready smile.

"Not mad I'll be annoying you again?" Rachel said.

"Never," he replied.

"You're the chef now. Just tell me what you need," Rachel offered.

"Thank you for that, but we both know who the chef is."

"How's the family? How's Little Manuel?"

"Graduated in June, but he's called Manny nowadays. Dating is awkward when everyone still calls him Little Manuel."

"He's a fine young man. Is he still working for Sadie?"

"Part-time. He'll be along soon."

Rachel found white pants, a white jacket, and an apron. She began pulling out eggs, onions, tomatoes, cheeses, diced ham, green peppers, and her favorite spices. Nothing had changed much since she'd left Ketchum ten months before.

"Oh my God," they heard Sadie exclaim from the front. Rachel and Manuel went to look. There was a crowd waiting for them to open.

"There's twenty people out there. Maybe more," Manuel said.

They heard a knock on the back door. Rachel went to answer.

"You left without me, sweetheart," Pamela said, shaking from the frost.

"You looked so warm and comfy," Rachel replied.

"I'm not now. Do we have coffee?"

They went out to the counter. Sadie had all the coffee pots going.

"I didn't expect this," Sadie said. "What do you think, Manuel?"

"I don't think we can keep them out there in this weather," Manuel answered.

Sadie looked at her staff, sorry she hadn't called more in.

"Okay, everyone, let's do this," Sadie said. "Pam, you're up."

Pamela had barely touched her coffee. She found a stack of menus, unlocked the door, and prepared to let the mob in a few at a time, wondering how she was going to seat so many. None of them waited for instructions.

"Welcome to Sadie's Diner," Pamela said as the crowd surged past her. A few took menus. Most were scrambling for chairs or places at the counter. Unlucky customers lined up along the back wall. It was a motley assortment. Truck drivers and firefighters. Lumberjacks. Shopkeepers. Seniors. Nurses from the clinic. Two were Highway Patrol.

"Sorry, Pam, looks like you're a waitress after all," Sadie said. "Start serving the coffee."

Pamela rushed from table to table, setting out cups while asking who wanted cream and sugar. No one gave her a second look. The younger Manuel arrived a moment later with his girlfriend, Gabriela. They rolled up their sleeves and got to work.

"This is crazy," Pamela said to Sadie. "Was it always like this?"

"Folks may have taken Katie a bit for granted. Now that she's back, it's their way of saying welcome home," Sadie replied.

"Not because she's Rachel Montgomery?"

"No one around here cares about that. This is for her."

The room remained noisy. Sadie got rolls and biscuits going.

"Katie!" someone shouted, followed by more shouts. "Katie! Katie! Katie!"

Rachel burst through the kitchen's swinging doors, causing the throng to fall silent. She had her hair up in a net covered by a white cap. Rose-colored glasses disguised her big brown eyes.

"We'll serve everyone as fast as we can," Rachel said in a firm voice. "But those who are served first will be having omelets. Who wants omelets?"

"Omelets! Omelets! Omelets!" they chanted, pounding the tables with their forks.

Pamela saw Rachel burst into a big smile. She looked relaxed. Happy. Pamela finally realized why coming back was so important.

The morning stayed busy. As some left, more arrived. Sadie ordered extra supplies from the general store. Pamela saw a chair open next to Big Willy and got off her feet.

"Enjoying breakfast?" Pamela asked.

She'd known Big Willy from her earlier visit, a fiftyish gray-haired Native American, mildly overweight, with a round face and long silver hair. He wore a carved turquoise eagle on a silver chain around his neck.

"It's great, Mrs. Smith. Always has been."

Incognito after finding Rachel in Ketchum, that had been Pamela's alias.

"My real name is Benson. Pamela Benson."

"I'm still William Horse Chief."

"They all seem to relish the food. I do, too. But ... Katie ... isn't a professional chef. She's never been to a school that I know of."

"That's what makes it so good," Big Willy said. "Katie ain't pretentious. She don't put on airs. She knows what people like, and knows how to make it. And she makes it with love."

Pamela noticed Big Willy gaze into the kitchen, seeing Rachel dashing back and forth between the stove and the preparation station. He clearly adored her.

Needing to get away for a few minutes, Pamela slipped into the kitchen and put on an apron. Rachel briefly frowned, then relented, handing her a wooden spoon.

"Stir the grits," Rachel ordered.

"Busy morning, isn't it?" Pamela said.

Rachel didn't look up. She was stuffing baked ham and green onions into four omelets at once, carefully combining peppered cheeses, milk, and low salts.

"No talking now, Mrs. Benson," Manuel advised. "Wait 'til table five has their order."

As the plates were filled with omelets, hash browns, toast, and fruit, the dishes were pushed through the serving window where young Manny whisked them away.

"Hello, Mother," Rachel said, a bright look in her eyes. "Having fun?"

"Fun? We're working like dogs."

"It's wonderful."

"Table two, Katie. #2, #3, two #5's," Sadie called out.

Rachel was instantly back at the stove, moving with a thoroughness that had Pamela astonished. She'd seen Rachel make hundreds of meals for the family, but never anything on such a large scale.

"Pam! Table six," Sadie summoned.

"It never ends," Pamela said, returning to the dining room.

"Your mom seems nice," Manuel said. "What does she do in real life?"

"She's a lawyer," Rachel replied.

Manuel glanced back and shook his head.

"No one's perfect," he muttered.

* * * * * *

Pamela followed Sadie back to her residence after a long day. It was the largest house in town, two stories with eaves and tall chimneys, but needing paint.

"Sure I can't help?" Pamela asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"You've done more than your share," Sadie said, finding a bottle of white wine and two glasses.

"This is a lovely home," Pamela complimented. "Victorian houses like this have always fascinated me."

"Me and my Frank bought it when we first came to Ketchum twenty-five years ago. He passed on ten years after, so it's bigger than I need. But I still like it."

"Are you okay with money? The diner can't bring in that much."

Sadie gave Pamela a slow smile.

"I do fine," she said.

"If--"

"Pam, I realize money means different things to us, you being a billionaire and all. All I need are my friends, these mountains, and the trees."

"You've been so good to my daughter. I'll do anything for her. And I'll do anything for those who love her. To give her peace of mind, if nothing else."

"I appreciate that," Sadie said, filling their glasses. "Though Rachel will always be Katie to me. Can you tell me what's got her so worked up?"

"She became engaged to a nice man, and pregnant again. There was an accident, and Rachel lost the baby. Relations with Tom's family have gone badly."

"That poor girl. Trouble just seems to follow her around."

"That's an understatement."

"Katie was three months pregnant the first time she came here. She got off the bus where she shouldn't have, ordered a cheeseburger, then almost wandered off into the forest. She seemed so aimless. Is that why she's come back? To find herself?"

"I don't know. But whatever she's facing, she's not going to face it alone. Not this time."

"Don't mean to pry none, but people talk. Katie's your daughter?"

"Yes, I adopted her four years ago."

"And before that, she was your ex-husband's girlfriend?"

"It does sound strange, doesn't it?"

"Bit more than strange."

Pamela sighed, picked up her wine, and went to sit next to the window. Sadie joined her.

"I was married to Daniel for twenty-five years," Pamela said, "and he cheated on me for all of them. We had three children, businesses, deep family connections, and we were constantly in the press. I turned a blind eye to avoid bad publicity, but that doesn't mean I didn't resent it."

"That must have been hard."

"It finally led to our divorce. My children were grown, so I backed away from the business. Spent my time at the country club. Skiing. Playing tennis. In a way, I was aimless, too. And sad, and angry. Then Daniel suddenly died. You know the story. Everyone does. After tying up his young girlfriend, his heart gave out. The blogs. The gossip. The humiliation. It was too much. I was furious. Our family became a joke, and the scandal put our business interests at risk. And I blamed Rachel for everything."

"Katie? What did she do? It wasn't her fault that--"

"I know, I know. I was so wrong. I knew the type of women Danny liked. Aggressive. Greedy. Brazen. Beautiful to a fault. I just assumed that's who Rachel was, out to get Danny's money. Money that belonged to my children.

"I went to confront Rachel in her tiny slum apartment, but she was half-dead from pneumonia. I summoned my daughter to take care of her so the press wouldn't find out, and a few days later, Rory stormed into my office madder than I'd ever seen her. She totally called me out. So, I went to see Rachel again. By then, Rory had moved her to Canby Place. I showed up to catch her by surprise. In her sick bed."

Pamela paused, using a napkin to wipe tears from her eyes.

"God, she was just the sweetest little thing. So kind, and shy, and forgiving. But also lonely and damaged. Before I knew it, I wanted to help her. And protect her. And I grew to love her like a daughter. Rachel thinks I saved her, but she saved me."

"Katie is lucky to have you. She can be a handful," Sadie remarked.

"You have no idea," Pamela agreed.

"She didn't come back just to cook in my café. How can we help her?"

"I haven't figured that out yet."

* * * * * *

It was a quiet evening at Hatter's Tavern, only an hour from closing. Mr. Simmons was washing glasses. Pamela sat at the bar sipping a vodka martini, reading the Wall Street Journal. Big Willy was in the backroom, causing a fuss.

"What is it, Willy?" Pamela asked, strolling into the billiard parlor.

"Katie beat me again. Four times in a row," he said, leaning on his que stick. "I've lost eight dollars."

Rachel sat on a stool in the corner, toying with the 8-ball.

"Rachel? I didn't know you even played pool," Pamela said.

"Daniel taught me years ago," Rachel answered.

"Did he teach you to be a hustler?" Pamela asked.

"I don't know what that means."

"It means making your opponent think you're not good, and then betting money on the game."

"Well, Daniel did eventually mention that," Rachel explained. "When we first started playing, he wanted me to bet my clothes. He won a lot. Bending over the table almost naked was so embarrassing. He would slap me on the ass when I tried to make a shot. When he couldn't beat me anymore, he lost interest."