Following Rain Read online

  CHAPTER 27

  Rain pulled back the covers and slipped out of bed, unable to sleep. After padding to the bedroom window, she drew in a deep breath and savored the evening air. A soft breeze teased the curtains, and a foghorn sounded somewhere in the distance.

  Her thoughts were on the afternoon’s outing with the Blakelys. She could still feel the motion of the Pricilla B and the touch of the wind as it ran invisible fingers through her hair. She could see the sun dancing playfully on the water and hear the gulls mewing as they glided overhead on motionless wings.

  The sights and sounds were vivid in her mind. But the most intense memory was of Paul catching her and breaking her fall as they tumbled onto the deck. She could still feel the touch of his chin pressed against her cheek and smell the scent of his aftershave.

  She turned away from the window and leaned against the casing. Her heart raced as she relived the moment that their bodies had been pressed tightly together. She could still see the concern etched in his expression, and it was the first time in years that she felt so safe and protected.

  Safe and protected!

  She worked conscientiously to give Charlie that same sense of security. It was important that he know she cared and would always be there for him. She did her best to shelter him from pain and anxiety. But it was a one-way street. Yes, he could be charming and loving, but he couldn’t return that same sense of security. She had to be the provider, the parent, the teacher, the psychologist, and everything else. It was her responsibility to make sure there was food on the table, money in the bank, and clean clothes in the closet. And under all circumstances, she had to be the adult in the room, especially when Charlie became restless and slipped into one of his playful moods.

  That’s what made today with Paul so special. She felt his reassurance that her feelings and concerns mattered, that they were important. This was the acknowledgment she’d seen in his eyes when he lifted her to her feet and held her a moment longer before assisting her back onto the padded bench. He reaffirmed it when they finally docked and said goodbye to one another. He shook hands with Charlie and then with her. But he didn’t let go of her hand right away. He held it while he asked to see her again. Soon.

  The memory of it thrilled her and now made sleep impossible.

  She remained at the window, wrapped in memories, unaware of the passing minutes. But she came out of her reverie abruptly when a thump sounded against the wall in the next room. Charlie must have rolled over in his sleep, she thought. She cocked an ear and listened to make sure he didn’t wake up and wander around the apartment, something he was prone to do.

  The sound of snoring, soft and muffled, resumed. Satisfied, she looked back out of the window and tried to recapture the mood. But the spell had been broken. Smiling wistfully, she thought about how symbolic this actually was.

  Charlie came first in her life, even at night when he was in bed fast asleep. Her world revolved around him, and his needs took precedence over hers. But that was by choice. Her choice. And although it entailed sacrifice, she didn’t resent him for it.

  She smiled again as she thought of Charlie standing at the steering wheel, his Popeye T-shirt ruffling in the breeze. A big grin had illuminated his countenance for the rest of the outing. And when they finally docked, he talked incessantly about their sailing experience for the remainder of the evening. At bedtime she couldn’t coax him out of his T-shirt, so he was allowed to wear it to bed. He fell asleep singing, “‘I’m Popeye the sailor man. I’m Popeye the sailor man. I’m off on a trip on me sturdy old ship, I’m Popeye the sailor man.’”

  As she glanced into the street below, she remembered how Charlie had so matter-of-factly explained the function of the large fin on the bottom of the sloop. Where had he learned about keels? Had he seen the information on TV or on the Internet? Or . . . was there another source?

  A memory, long forgotten, began to resurface. It bobbed along like a message in a bottle, sometimes riding the crest of the wave and other times disappearing in the trough. She struggled to grasp it before the bottle receded for good. With a determined effort she managed to mentally retrieve it, and her eyes widened at the realization of what it contained.

  She hurried to the closet and got the shoebox. Then sitting on the edge of the bed, she flicked on the lamp and removed the lid. She began rifling through the pictures and articles, one by one, setting them haphazardly beside her on the bedspread. Normally, looking at the family photographs created waves of nostalgia and sadness. But not tonight. She was too focused on finding a certain picture, one she remembered seeing a long time ago.

  As she worked her way through the photographs, she began to wonder if her memory was playing tricks on her. Perhaps the photo wasn’t in the shoebox, after all. Perhaps she’d seen it years ago in her grandmother’s photo album.

  As her hopes began to falter, her hand suddenly stopped. There, sitting on top of the remaining pile, was a picture of a young man standing at the helm of a sailboat, one hand on the tiller. He was smiling and his other hand was half-raised as if in the middle of waving at the camera. It was Charlie. His hair was darker and he was thinner in appearance, but it was Charlie nonetheless.

  Rain picked up the photograph and looked at it in the lamp’s glow. Charlie appeared so young and his smile exuded confidence. He seemed comfortable at the tiller as he guided the sloop.

  Charlie had been sailing before and that is why he’d been able to surprise everyone with his knowledge about keels. The information obviously existed inside him. Somewhere.

  A tingle ran down her spine. How much more latent knowledge did he possess? How much more could be retrieved? Had this ability been there all along and she had somehow missed it or misinterpreted it? Had she underestimated his capabilities?

  Until now she hadn’t allowed herself to get her hopes up. Progress was measured in inches, not yards. Charlie wasn’t able to advance in leaps and bounds. Or was he?

  His reading skills were improving, true. At the cemetery, he had inquired about the names on the headstones, something he’d never done before. And after returning home from sailing, he had looked at pictures of sailboats on Google and studied the different styles of vessels.

  Along with his growing abilities and interests, were memories being restored accordingly? She thrilled at the thought.

  But then she suddenly caught herself. If his memories were being restored, would it occur in proportion to his ability to process them? What if they resurfaced too quickly? What if he remembered all of the events surrounding the accident and lost his innocence in a backwash of guilt?

  And what if he remembered the events surrounding her dark secret?

  CHAPTER 28

  When Paul said he’d like to see her again soon, Rain never expected he would call the following morning and invite her and Charlie to his parents’ home for a Sunday afternoon barbecue. She was hesitant at first, fearing that she might be wearing out her welcome, since they’d just gone sailing together the day before. But Paul reassured her and told her that Kaz and Sumi Hirotoma were also going to be there. It would be a good chance to update them on recent developments regarding Super Saturday. Rain didn’t offer any further resistance, although her acceptance had less to do with talking to the Hirotomas than with seeing Paul again. She spent the rest of the morning cleaning the apartment while resisting the urge to consider just where their relationship was headed.

  Paul picked them up in his BMW at two o’clock and drove directly to his parents’ home. Pricilla, in her wheelchair today, greeted them warmly and introduced Sumi. While the three women visited together, Stan led the men into the den and taught Charlie how to play pool. Following the meal, Charlie entertained himself by taking more practice shots while the others sat on the back patio and discussed Super Saturday. Rain felt more relaxed during this second visit to the Blakelys’ home, and enjoyed the day. Especially when she and Paul were able to slip away for a few minutes and wander in the backyard while Stan
and Kaz rejoined Charlie at the pool table.

  The visit ended as well as it began, and when Paul took them home, he held her hand during the drive. When they arrived at the apartment, Paul leaned toward her as though he was going to kiss her. A flurry of emotions—anticipation mixed with trepidation—coursed through her body, constricting her chest and clouding her brain.

  She had never been kissed before. Not even on her date to the junior prom. At the end of that awkward occasion, a sweaty handshake was all she received.

  A first kiss was something she had contemplated after that. When and where would it occur? Who would it be with? What would it be like? But those questions were all swept away by the car accident. Now as Paul leaned toward her, she wondered if she was ready to face the questions once more.

  But the kiss never came. Charlie leaned forward from his place in the backseat and poked his head between them. “Thanks for the ride, Paul. Nice car!”

  “You’re welcome, Charlie,” Paul replied, and Rain wondered if she saw disappointment in his expression. He got out of the car and went around to hold the door for her. Once again she wondered if he might attempt to kiss her, but Charlie sprang out of the backseat and took her by the arm. “Let’s hurry, Rain,” he said. “I want to look up pool tables on Google.” He led her away and all she could do was wave a quick good-bye. She spent another sleepless night staring out the bedroom window and wondering about the wisdom of letting her relationship with Paul continue to develop.

  Paul was out of town on assignment Monday, but on Tuesday he arrived in time to pick her and Charlie up from work. But instead of driving them home, he took them to a nearby park. A swap meet was occurring, and the three of them wandered among the booths. Later they stopped at a food vendor and Paul bought each of them a large hot dog and soda.

  A merry-go-round was playing carousel music in the background, which attracted Charlie’s attention. Paul bought tickets, and he and Rain sat together on a small bench on the ride while Charlie climbed onto one of the colorfully decorated horses.

  As the ride began, Charlie grinned in amusement until several adults who were standing nearby pointed at him and laughed. Rain had seen the cruelty of adults before, but usually Charlie was oblivious to it. This time, though, his smile faded and he quickly climbed down. He stood beside the horse and didn’t touch it until the ride ended.

  Paul noticed it, too, and was ready to chastise the adults, but Rain shook her head.

  “It will only make things worse,” she explained. “People don’t understand because, by all appearances, Charlie looks completely normal. And even when I try to explain his condition, he’s regarded as a curiosity. People watch him from the corners of their eyes and whisper to one another. It’s best just to leave and go somewhere else.”

  Scowling slightly, Paul acquiesced and led them to the small lake in the center of the park. He bought a container of bird feed from a vending machine so Charlie could feed the ducks. The smile reappeared on Charlie’s face, and Rain took Paul’s hand and squeezed it in appreciation. Paul squeezed back . . . and didn’t let go.

  When they arrived at the apartment, Paul held the car door for her. A passing cyclist momentarily distracted Charlie, and Paul leaned forward and kissed Rain on the lips. She felt a jolt course through her like an electric shock. Her first kiss! It was not long and intimate like she had envisioned in her girlhood fantasies, but it didn’t need to be. The touch of his lips on hers was indelibly impressed in her memory. And now she knew the answers to her questions.

  That night, she replayed the kiss over and over in her mind. Her skin tingled as she remembered each detail. But troubling thoughts—ones that lurked in the background and which she had managed to suppress until now—broke into her reverie. Becoming involved with him, or with anyone else for that matter, will only lead to heartbreak. And complications. What about Charlie? What will happen to him? How can three fit into a relationship meant for two?

  Paul had been very accommodating, true. He took Charlie places with them and was kind to him. He let Charlie do things for himself and didn’t micromanage him. But how long would it last? What would happen when—not if—Charlie squeezed between them and stayed there? How would Paul react when she told him that Charlie was a permanent part of her life? And, worse, how would Paul react when he learned her dark secret? These were questions to which she was terrified to learn the answers.

  During the next few weeks, she fought an inner battle with herself. She considered ending things with Paul before their relationship became too committed. But a dull ache arose in her chest at the thought. Conversely, when she pondered continuing to see him, the ache subsided. But her concerns were not completely assuaged, and the dark thoughts continued to cling to the fringes of her concerns. However, she decided to get through Super Saturday first. And then . . . go from there.

  Paul dropped by the homeless shelter as often as his schedule permitted. He sometimes brought Grunge with him, and the two of them helped paint banners and design posters. They also helped make decorations. Paul even used his father’s workshop to build an information booth out of a large sheet of plywood. He and Rain painted it in a colorful swirl of patterns to give it carnival appeal and then transported it back to the shelter. She still laughed at the memory of arriving only to discover that the splotch of paint Paul had purposely dabbed on the end of her nose was still plainly visible.

  Tickets were printed, sponsors contacted, transport vehicles rented, and volunteers confirmed. A hundred other details were attended to, as well.

  But it wasn’t all work, work, work. Paul took her on weekly dates, ostensibly to talk about Super Saturday. Grunge was conscripted to “babysit” Charlie on those occasions. And once Grunge discovered Charlie’s love for video games, he brought an Xbox and the two of them spent hours in fierce competition. He also brought several bags of snacks, the contents of which disappeared as thoroughly as though the two men used a vacuum cleaner. Charlie loved snacks. It was obvious that Grunge did, too, and was not to be outdone in that department, either.

  As August became September, Paul and Rain continued to date. Not surprisingly, they talked less and less about the fundraiser, and more and more about one another. Rain even shared selected memories of her girlhood. She noticed that Paul was careful not to probe, and she was grateful. He may have caught her by surprise the day he kissed her for the first time, but he was not rushing things now. As a result, her trust grew and she found herself continuing to open up to him.

  * * * * *

  The spotlight on Harold aired two weeks before Super Saturday. It began with Paul, dressed casually, standing outside the homeless shelter. Unlike the solemn expression he usually adopted, he was smiling. The message was clear: this was a good-news feature.

  “When we think of homeless shelters,” he said, “we usually think of the sad images it conjures up. But there are positive ones, too. Another side to the coin, so to speak. At least here at Welcoming Hands.”

  He motioned toward the facility. The camera zoomed out, capturing the full exterior of the building. “So what could be positive about a homeless shelter?” He held out the figure of a carved wooden horse and the camera momentarily zoomed back in for a tight shot. “This!”

  He paused a moment to invite curiosity. It was his trademark technique of grabbing the viewers’ attention and keeping them hooked.

  “Every child who enters Welcoming Hands receives a specially carved wooden animal, hand crafted by one of the guests. His name is Harold Spence.”

  The picture cut to a shot of the elderly man, seated along the wall in his customary place, carving a figure from a wooden block. Shavings clung to his pants and shirtsleeves, and a small pile had collected at his feet.

  “Long ago, Harold decided that no child would enter Welcoming Hands without receiving a gift of a wooden figure. No two figures are alike and each one is made especially for the recipient.”

  The camera briefly zoomed in on the wooden figur
e once again.

  “So how did this tradition start? It began several years ago, at the commencement of the Christmas season. A mother arrived with two small children and only the clothing on their backs. Harold was a resident and wanted to do something nice for the children. He had no money to buy gifts, so he went to the local lumberyard and asked for scraps of wood. From these, he carved two small figures—a donkey for the little boy and a sheep for the little girl. He wrapped the figures in newspaper so the children would have something to open Christmas morning. It was the only gifts they received that year.”

  The camera pulled back so the viewers could see Harold working again.

  “A couple of days after that, another woman with small children arrived. Harold decided that they needed a touch of Christmas, too. So he carved more figures, and he’s been doing it ever since. He has subsequently expanded his craft to include a variety of animals beyond those associated with the festive season. His figures range from ponies and unicorns to elephants and tigers. He stores them on a special shelf and says it’s about full.”

  Paul’s smile faded and he looked solemnly at the camera.

  “I think it’s time we gave Harold more storage space. Let’s support Super Saturday. Harold will be there, demonstrating his woodcarving skills. His wooden figures will be on sale, and he will also be taking orders, as well. Make a donation so he can afford to buy better quality wood—oak, mahogany, and walnut—and proper wrapping paper. He needs new carving tools, too, because his old pocketknife is bent and worn.”

  Paul smiled into the camera once again.

  “An anonymous sponsor has agreed to match, dollar for dollar, the amount Harold receives in contributions. It’s a good cause, so come out and show your support. I know he really wood appreciate it. That’s w-o-o-d, folks, as in oak, mahogany, and walnut. See you at Memorial Stadium on September Twenty-first. Paul Blakely, KNEX TV, Welcoming Hands.”