Following Rain Page 21

  On Thursday he and Grunge went to Waterfront Park to do a feature on a series of recent muggings in the area. Two women had been accosted by someone wearing a blue hoodie, and a man had been mugged the following night by an assailant who matched the same description. Despite the seriousness of the circumstances, Paul couldn’t stop thinking about the time he brought Rain here on their first date. He remembered resisting the urge to hold her hand as they walked along because he was already finding himself drawn to her but didn’t want to come on too strong. Now as he surveyed the park, he could see reminders everywhere of their time together. As a result, he had a hard time focusing on his work and he stumbled over his words. Grunge had to do several reshoots, and Paul appreciated the fact that his friend, who knew what was going on, didn’t give him too hard of a time about it.

  * * * * *

  As the weekend approached, an indescribable loneliness settled over Rain. And despite her best efforts to dispel the dark mood, it lurked in the background like a cloud on the horizon. Sometimes it grew to resemble a thunderhead threatening to burst, and she would hurry into the women’s washroom to compose herself. Other times it evaporated to a mere speck, but it was ever-present and offset some of the joy she experienced when the plumbing and heating fixtures were upgraded and an air conditioner unit was installed. It knocked an edge off her excitement when the major appliances in the kitchen arrived, although she was relieved that Charlie seemed okay now with the sink with three holes. She was even able to chuckle, albeit apprehensively, when he discovered that the new sprayer could send a jet of water across the room. His enthusiasm for washing dishes was rekindled, and she was grateful for that. At least someone had found peace and contentment.

  During the following week, the flooring was replaced on the main level and on the stairs, and new tables and chairs were purchased. Rain got to go with Maria to pick out a new flat screen TV. She also got to help select two new couches and an easy chair, along with an area rug to go in the center for the children to curl up on. Toward the end of the week, she purchased a tall cabinet and filled it with new toys, and bought several small wooden tables and chairs for the children to sit at and draw pictures. Finally, she helped select new mats and bedding for the sleeping quarters and new curtains and blinds for the windows. It was a busy time. But despite her efforts to throw herself into her work and keep her thoughts occupied, she couldn’t ignore the hollow sensation in the center of her chest.

  The shelter purchased new filing cabinets for the office, and Rain spent the balance of one morning rearranging her files. She also received a new iMac and printer and, on assignment from Maria, prepared letters of appreciation to the corporate and private sponsors who had contributed to Super Saturday. It was gratifying to write so many letters when only two short months ago she had been futilely beating the bushes for sponsors.

  As she printed and organized the letters, she thought of Paul. It was ironic that he was the person most deserving of a letter of appreciation, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to write it. Even though it was from the staff as a whole, it seemed hypocritical for her to do it, considering how she still felt.

  She still loved Paul and knew she should forgive him. But whenever she weakened and considered calling him, she remembered the dark secret locked away in her heart, and her resolution faltered. And so she finished the letters—all but one—and took them to Maria to be signed.

  Maria looked up from her work. “All done, I see. Thank you, thank you.” She removed her glasses and sighed. “All these letters and not one for you. You deserve the biggest thanks of all.” She got up and embraced Rain.

  “There’s one letter I couldn’t write, though,” Rain said, returning the embrace.

  Maria nodded. “And I bet I can guess which one. I’ll take care of it.” She held Rain at arm’s length and studied her carefully. “How are you doing, anyway? We haven’t talked for a few days, and I haven’t wanted to pry, but I just want you to know that my door is always open.”

  Rain smiled appreciatively but there was little joy in it. “It’s been hard, but I’m doing okay.”

  Sitting on the edge of her desk, Maria said, “When I finally decided to divorce my husband, I had a lot of support from my friends. They were behind my decision all the way. But you know what I discovered? At night when I climbed into bed, I climbed in alone. When the bills stacked up, I faced them alone. When the car broke down or the hot water heater stopped working, I had to deal with them on my own. But that’s not the worst part.”

  Rain looked at Maria intently.

  “Something occurred that I hadn’t expected: I became depressed. And it wasn’t because I lacked the courage to stand on my own two feet. It was that I felt like a failure. My friends were still in their marriages and were sharing the responsibilities of raising their children. They had wedding pictures and family vacation pictures on the wall. Yes, they were supportive of my decision to divorce my husband, but I was the one who had to live with it. And although I was glad to be out of the relationship, it came at a price. We all have to make decisions, but we also have to live with the consequences.” She embraced Rain once again. “I know I’m not telling you anything you probably don’t already know, but it’s good to be reminded once in a while. Just sayin’.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Paul drove to Vancouver, Canada, on Friday afternoon, ostensibly to gather more information for his feature on the legalization of drugs. In actuality it was just to get out of the city and escape the emotional vortex that was sucking the life out of him. He did some research and conducted a couple of interviews, but he also spent some time in a sports bar in downtown Vancouver, twirling swizzle sticks.

  He returned to Seattle on Sunday night and collapsed on his couch, red-eyed and tired, too miserable to even turn on the TV. He had a headache and all he wanted to do was go to bed and sleep away the loneliness.

  His doorbell rang just then and his hopes momentarily soared. Could it be her? He crossed the room with surprising speed and pushed the button on the intercom.

  “Hey,” came his father’s voice. “The boys and I are here to play some poker.”

  Paul’s spirits fell. “Dad, I can’t tonight. I—”

  “Just joking. I’m alone. Let me in.”

  Paul unenthusiastically pushed the button to unlock the door downstairs and then opened his apartment door a crack, leaving it ajar. He headed back to the couch and plopped down.

  Stan arrived a moment later and poked his head in through the doorway. “Permission to come aboard, Captain.”

  Paul listlessly waved him in.

  Closing the door behind him, Stan approached his son and stopped short. “You look awful!”

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “No, I mean it. You’re in worse shape than I thought. If your mother could see you now, she’d—I don’t know, but she’d do something.”

  “I’m not in the mood for a lecture, Dad.”

  Sitting beside him on the couch, Stan said, “So Rain still won’t see you?”

  Paul shook his head, wincing at the effort it required.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Shrugging, Paul replied, “What can I do?”

  “For one thing, you can stop acting like a martyr.” Stan reached over and cuffed his son on the arm.

  “I’m not acting like a martyr,” Paul retorted, rubbing his arm sullenly.

  Stan clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Just listen to yourself. It’s even in your tone of voice.”

  Paul buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Look, a bad thing’s happened to me, okay?”

  “Happened to you, huh? So you’re the only one involved in this?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Well, you sound like it.”

  Paul got stiffly to his feet and sat on the arm of the couch. He could feel his father’s eyes studying him. “Dad, you’re talking to me like I’m a kid again.” And before Stan could reply, Paul added
, “And don’t say it’s because I’m acting like one.”

  “Don’t need to. You just did.”

  Paul slumped in defeat and slid back onto the cushion. “I am a mess, Dad. What am I going to do? I know it sounds corny, but I can’t live without her. I haven’t seen her in two weeks, but it feels more like two years.”

  After pausing to consider his reply, Stan said, “Look in the mirror and then ask yourself why she’d want you back again.” He gestured toward Paul. “This isn’t the person she fell in love with.”

  Paul lowered his gaze.

  “I can’t say how this is going to end, son. Heaven knows that Rain is hurting just as much as you are—probably more—and needs some time to figure things out. But you have to pull yourself together so you can be there for her, if and when she reaches out. You’d be no good to her right now.”

  Prying his gaze from the floor, Paul said, “Since when did you become so wise and all-knowing?”

  “Call it the voice of good judgment, based on experience.”

  Paul smiled grimly. “You know what they say about experience, don’t you? It comes from bad judgment.”

  Reaching over and patting his son on the knee, Stan said, “Welcome to the club, son.”

  “What do you mean?” Paul looked at his father askance.

  Stan wet his lips as he prepared to respond. “When Microsoft went public back in 1986, your mother and I, along with the Hirotomas and a lot of other shareholders, became wealthy overnight. It was like winning the lottery. Suddenly we had all this money.”

  “I know the story, Dad.”

  Nodding in acknowledgment, Stan continued. “But there’s a part you don’t know. When the money arrived, I’m afraid I went a little crazy. I began buying things, left and right. A condo in Downtown, a Mercedes Benz for each of us, a yacht, a whole collection of jewelry. Your mother tried to slow me down, but the money poured through my fingers like water. And then the socialites came out of the woodwork. One couple in particular—Chance and Stacy were their names—began inviting me to parties, where there was loud music and plenty of alcohol. Your mother was expecting you at the time and was feeling quite nauseous, so I ended up going without her, much to her disapproval.”

  “I can understand her point.”

  “But you see, Chance and Stacy were opening up a whole new world to me. I mean, I was a computer programmer! And then suddenly I was popular and had all these new friends who were wild and fun and crazy. Your mother, on the other hand, wasn’t like that at all. She was practical and down-to-earth. She begged me to hire a good investment firm, get control of my spending, and stop attending the parties. She said if I didn’t, it would prove that I didn’t really love her.”

  Paul was listening intently now. “So what did you do?”

  “I bought her a diamond necklace and matching earrings to show my love. And then I had a party on our yacht with Chance and Stacy and their friends. I figured that if I organized the party then that was different. It didn’t count.”

  “So how did that turn out?”

  “I crashed the yacht into the dock and did some serious damage. I was in pretty bad shape, too, I can tell you. When I got home and tiptoed into the bedroom, your mother wasn’t there. I stumbled around the condo, checking the spare bedrooms and the living room, but she was gone.”

  Paul exhaled sharply. “She left you?”

  “To my everlasting shame.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Home to her parents’ place.”

  Paul studied his father for a moment. “So what happened?”

  “I went to see her, naturally. With my arms full of gifts! She took one look at me . . . burst into tears . . . and closed the door in my face.”

  “Why?”

  “That was my question, too. It took me a while to figure out that it wasn’t jewelry or expensive perfume or designer dresses she wanted. It was something that was there all along—something that didn’t come with a label or a price tag.”

  “And that was?”

  “Me! She simply wanted me. My time, my attention . . . and my trust.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I moped around for a few days. Then Kaz happened to drop by. To this day I don’t know if your mother sent him or if he came on his own. Anyway, he helped me get my head back on straight and clean myself up. He put me in touch with his financial advisor, who guided me in unloading a lot of the toys I’d accumulated. The advisor also plugged the leaks in my finances and guided me in making wise investments. I dropped Chance and Stacy and their friends, swore off alcohol, and hired a personal trainer to help me lose twenty pounds. Then I went back to see your mother. I missed her terribly and promised her that I would work hard to regain her trust and that I would be open and honest with her and never let anything come between us again.”

  “So she took you back right then?”

  “Eventually. I still had to prove myself, but she did take me back. I also promised her that I would never make another major financial decision without consulting her. So together we sold our condo and purchased the house in Queen Anne Hill. You were born two months later, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  Paul squinted his eyes and looked at his father. “Why haven’t you ever told me this story before?”

  Stan made a face. “I was hoping you’d never need to hear it.”

  After chewing on his lip for a moment, Paul said, “So what do I do to get Rain back?”

  “That’s for you to figure out. But I can tell you this much, you’ll never get her back the way you’re sailing. You need to make a course correction, Captain.”

  Paul nodded and placed his hands to his head, gently massaging his temples.

  Stan got up and headed into the kitchen. “It’s time to put your hard-earned experience to good use, son. But first, you need to start off with a cup of Seattle’s Finest. Straight black.”

  CHAPTER 36

  The following Wednesday Rain sat with Charlie after dinner as he worked his way through the second grade primer she had picked up at the library. He was advancing beyond Dr. Seuss books, but still required help with certain words.

  She let her mind wander for a moment, and soon she was back in Tacoma, standing outside the white picket fence of her girlhood home. She ventured inside and saw herself sitting on the couch beside her dad, reading an assigned book for elementary school. She loved to snuggle against his arm and feel the security of his strength. He would follow along for a while, but soon his head would begin to droop, and she would start making up words and launch into an unrelated story. The joke was to see how long she could ramble before he caught on. Finally, he would shake the sleep from his eyes and laugh and say, “Stick to the printed words, Pumpkin.” Then he would give her a warm hug and follow along again . . . for a while.

  Rain came back to the moment when Charlie nudged her with his elbow. “What is this word, Rain?”

  She looked at where Charlie was pointing. “Can you sound it out?”

  “Ha-pen-ning,” he said proudly.

  “That’s right. Good job.”

  Charlie continued reading the chapter, but at length he began talking like Elmer Fudd. Rain knew he had reached the limit of his attention span for the evening.

  “That’s good enough for tonight, Charlie. You can put the book away and mark the chart.”

  “Can I watch some TV before bedtime?”

  Rain nodded and went into the kitchen to tidy up.

  As she swept the floor, she could hear the TV in the background and could tell that Charlie was surfing channels. Advertisements and snippets of various programs fired in rapid succession. Suddenly she heard Charlie call out, “Rain, come quick!”

  Still clutching the broom, she hurried into the living room. “What is it?”

  “Look!” He pointed excitedly at the TV.

  She glanced at the screen and caught her breath. It showed a montage of photographs, and Paul was in one of them. Ra
in realized that Charlie was on the KNEX-TV News channel and that the evening news was just coming on.

  “It’s Paul!” Charlie said, his voice rising in pitch.

  The montage faded to reveal Brenda Dickson, the evening anchor, sitting behind her desk, smiling at the camera. “Good evening. We begin tonight with this breaking story. In a preliminary hearing today, Frank Tolley, the director of Noxby Medical Center, was arraigned on several counts of misappropriation and embezzlement of funds. Paul Blakely has the details.”

  Paul appeared outside the courthouse, looking solemnly at the camera.

  “It’s Paul!” Charlie repeated, sliding forward on the couch as if trying to get closer to him. “Rain, come and watch.”

  Rain shook her head. “I have to sweep the floor.” She retreated to the kitchen and forced herself to continue working as Paul’s voice filtered in from the living room. Her heart began racing, and with each word it seemed to beat faster.

  “Brenda, today Frank Tolley was formally charged with one count of misappropriation of funds that involved $1.3 million, and four counts of embezzling funds that totaled over $200,000. He was remanded for sentencing but could face a five-year prison term. About half of the money has been recovered, and he will be required to pay back the other half.”

  Rain stopped sweeping and leaned against the fridge, the broom trembling in her hands.

  “Come and watch, Rain,” Charlie called to her again. “It’s my friend Paul.”

  My friend Paul. The words stung Rain and she resumed sweeping. But when she looked down, she realized she was sweeping the same section of the floor repeatedly. Giving up the pretense altogether, she inched her way toward the living room and peeked around the corner so she could see the TV.

  “The funds were originally donated by a consortium of concerned citizens,” Paul continued, “and they published this statement today: ‘It is our wish to give back to the community, but we will strive to bring any individual or corporation to justice who misappropriates funds that have been donated for the common good of all. The citizens of Seattle expect nothing more and demand nothing less.’”