Following Rain Read online

  “You party animals,” Grunge said, eliciting a hearty laugh from Stan and Pricilla.

  Paul rolled his eyes and asked, “So, Dad, why didn’t you tell me about the Noxby matter yourself? Why did you let Kaz contact me instead?”

  Stan winked at Grunge. “Always the investigator.”

  “Tell me about it,” Grunge replied.

  “The donation to the medical center was Kaz’s doing,” Stan explained. “When Sumi needed a hip replacement, she went there for an assessment. Kaz discovered that the facility didn’t have an MRI machine and decided that our consortium should do something about that. So we’ve been letting him take the lead on it.”

  “Sounds like you two go back a long way, Mr. B,” Grunge said, finishing off the cookie.

  “All the way back to our Microsoft days,” Stan answered. “He was a developer and I was a programmer. When Microsoft went public and we hit the big time, we eventually discovered we had a common interest in investing in our community as a way of giving back.” Stan shrugged. “You can only own so many sports cars and go on so many cruises, right?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Grunge muttered.

  “Kaz and I, and our wives of course”—here he smiled at Pricilla—“joined with some other individuals to form a consortium. It’s been rewarding to ‘pay it forward,’ as the saying goes, and see the money put to good use. That’s what is so galling about the Noxby situation.”

  Paul chuckled confidently. “Don’t worry, Dad. I think you’ll find a different administrator when I get finished with him.”

  Stan turned up the volume to “Hey Jude” and reached over and took Pricilla’s hand. “That’s music to our ears, son. Go get ‘em.”

  CHAPTER 9

  An evening breeze stirred the leaves on the maple trees that lined the boulevard in front of the apartment. Rain stood at the sink, washing the dinner dishes. As she worked, she gazed out the kitchen window and watched the neighborhood transform from day to night. When she finished, she wiped the counter and went into the living room to join Charlie, who was sitting on the couch watching a rerun of “Dancing With the Stars” on TV. She chuckled when he got up and imitated Tom Bergeron, the host, holding an imaginary microphone and introducing the next couple. Then he motioned toward the TV with a sweeping gesture and returned to the couch.

  As the program continued, Rain’s head began to bob. It had been a long day and the strain was catching up to her. Her eyes closed and she drifted away.

  When she eventually reopened her eyes, it took a moment to get her bearings. What time was it? How long had she been asleep? The TV was still going but the program was over. And Charlie was no longer seated on the couch.

  “Charlie?” she called out. “Are you okay?” Translation: What are you doing?

  It was a question she often asked. Especially when things got quiet in the apartment and she couldn’t see him.

  There was no answer. A bad sign.

  She went to investigate, first checking the front door to make certain it was still locked and the safety chain was in place. Next, she peeked in his bedroom but there was no sign of him. Getting down on her hands and knees, she peered under the bed. He wasn’t there. Nor was he hiding in his closet.

  Charlie loved to play hide-and-seek. The only problem was he would sometimes start the game without informing her. He might stay hidden for ten minutes before she thought to go look for him.

  “Charlie?” she called again, going to check her bedroom. Charlie usually didn’t go into her room uninvited. It was the tiniest of sanctuaries, a place she sometimes retreated to when she needed some time alone, time to decompress from the incessant pressures that came with the responsibilities of caring for him.

  Her bedroom door was closed. She opened it and found Charlie sitting on the floor, an opened shoebox beside him. Photographs were strewn about. He held one photograph in his hand and was studying it carefully.

  “Charlie!”

  He looked up in surprise, obviously startled by the intrusion. His eyes became wide circles of guilt, and his jaw began to tremble. He looked like someone who had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

  “Charlie, what are you doing?”

  He swept up the pictures and stuffed them into the box in a series of rapid movements, fumbling to get the lid back on. “I—I was just . . . looking.” His voice rose dramatically as he said looking.

  Rain snatched up the shoebox. “You know you’re not supposed to snoop around in here, Charlie.” She clutched it firmly, shooting glances from the shoebox to Charlie and back again. “You have your things and I have mine. I don’t go through your things, do I?”

  Actually, she did. Constantly. Charlie was prone to picking things up absentmindedly, and it was not uncommon for them to return from the grocery store with small items stuffed in his pockets. It was always humiliating to have to return the items with an apology and a promise that she’d watch him more carefully. So far the storeowners had been lenient, but that might not always be the case. All it would take was for one owner to press charges and haul them into court and then . . . Rain didn’t want to think about it. The consequences terrified her.

  “Well, do I go through your things?” she repeated, feigning innocence for the greater good.

  Charlie dropped his gaze. “Sometimes you do.”

  “When?” she asked in surprise.

  “When you go through my underwear drawer.”

  “I do the laundry,” she said defensively. “I help you—” She broke off when she realized that Charlie’s chest was beginning to heave. She softened her tone. “I do it to help you get dressed, Charlie. I’m not snooping through your stuff. It’s not like what you are doing, rummaging around in my closet and getting the shoebox.”

  “But I like looking at the pictures,” he answered, his voice quaking.

  Rain stared at him intently. “You’ve looked in the shoebox before?”

  There was a long pause, accompanied by a sniff. “Y—yeah.”

  “When?”

  Charlie shifted. “Wh—when you weren’t watching.”

  Rain’s lips tightened. “Charlie, if you sneak in my room and get in that shoebox again, I’m going to have to lock my door. Do you understand? That will mean I can’t trust you. Is that what you want?”

  “N—no.”

  “Then do you promise not to do it again?”

  “Okay.”

  Rain stood up and placed the shoebox back on her closet shelf, sliding it as far back as she could reach.

  “They’re nice pictures, Rain. Who are the people in them?”

  “We’re not going to talk about it, Charlie. You need to go to your bedroom for a thirty-minute timeout.”

  “But I don’t like timeouts. I get lonely.”

  Rain set her jaw in determination. “Then maybe you won’t snoop around again.”

  The puppy dog eyes suddenly appeared. “Twenty minutes?”

  “Thirty.”

  “Ten?”

  “Charlie, if I won’t accept twenty minutes, I’m not going to accept ten.”

  He shrugged. “I thought I could trick you.”

  She placed her hands on her hips and nodded toward the door. “Go.”

  Charlie reluctantly got to his feet. “All right, I’ll go to timeout. But remember”—he switched into his Arnold Schwarzenegger voice—“I’ll be back!”

  “I let you watch too much TV,” she muttered, shaking her head.

  When she was alone, she looked at the top shelf where she had placed the shoebox. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, and she waited until it became steady once more before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

  She thought about the photographs in the shoebox. They brought back powerful memories, and the tears she’d been fighting to withhold found a hairline crack in her emotional defenses. Tiny droplets appeared at first. Unable to stop them, they became a trickle as she went into the living room and sat on the couch. Sh
e drew her knees up to her chest and pulled herself into a cocoon.

  Moments later Charlie appeared beside her. “Rain, what’s the matter?”

  “Charlie, go back to your room,” she sniffed.

  “What’s the matter, huh?”

  “Char—” is as far as she got before the words choked in her throat. Her body trembled as if an icy chill had suddenly descended upon the room. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Was I bad?” Charlie asked. “I’m sorry I looked in the shoebox. I won’t do it again. I promise. Don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad,” Rain replied, her voice so strained she could hardly form the words.

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “I’m just a little sad, that’s all, and it’s okay to cry sometimes. Tears wash away the sadness.”

  Charlie sat beside her on the couch and put an arm around her.

  Rain forced a smile and stroked his chin. “I’ll be okay, Charlie. I just needed to wash some sadness away this evening.”

  Charlie hugged her gently. “I get sad sometimes, too.”

  “What makes you sad, Charlie?”

  He placed his head against hers. “When you’re sad.”

  More tears flowed. But these were different. The sadness was washed away. These were tears of love. She pressed her thumb and pointer finger together and held them toward Charlie.

  He copied her gesture. “I love you that much, too,” he said softly.

  CHAPTER 10

  Paul and Grunge arrived at the homeless shelter on Thursday at 10 A.M. to shoot the feature. They were fortunate to find a parking space near the facility and were able to carry the equipment into the front entrance in one trip. Paul pushed the green button and waited patiently for the woman behind the reception desk to admit them. Once inside, he led the way directly to the front office.

  Paul felt something stir within him when he saw Rain sitting at her desk. She was talking on the phone, and her large, brown eyes were fixed in concentration. She wore her hair in a ponytail like she had done during his previous visit, and even at a distance he could tell she had on little makeup. But she didn’t need makeup, he had already decided. There was a genuineness about her that was reflected in her features, enhancing them beyond what eye shadow and mascara could do. She may not be susceptible to the Blakely charm, but she was definitely passionate in her commitment to the shelter. And this continued to simultaneously puzzle and impress him.

  As he and Grunge entered the office, Rain ended her conversation. She held the receiver away from her momentarily and stared at it, her brows knit and her lips pressed tightly together. Then she hung up and exhaled slowly. Forcing a smile, she said, “You’re here to film the promo feature.”

  It was more of a comment than a question, and Paul resisted the urge to inquire about the nature of the telephone call. It was obvious that it had not gone well. He saw frustration and disappointment reflected in her eyes, and he felt a sudden desire to lighten things up. “We’re here in person,” he said. He pointed toward Grunge, who had a large, black bag slung over his shoulder. “This is Stan the Cameraman.”

  Rain nodded at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Stan.”

  Grunge glanced narrowly at Paul and said, “Actually, it’s Grunge.”

  Grinning guiltily, Paul said, “Sorry, standard cameraman joke. Meet Carl ‘Grunge’ Farantino, the best in the business.”

  Grunge nodded in response. “My job is to make him look good.” He tilted his head at Paul. “And let me tell you, it’s a full-time job.”

  Rain arched an eyebrow and said, “I’ll let Maria know you’re here.” She tapped lightly on the inner office door and stepped inside. She reemerged a few moments later with Maria right behind her.

  Maria clapped her hands together and greeted Paul and Grunge warmly. “How wonderful to have you here. Please, come right in.”

  “Thanks,” Paul said, smiling at Rain as she excused herself and exited the office. He and Grunge followed Maria into the inner office and set the equipment down.

  “We’re excited to have both of you here today,” Maria said. “Thank you so much for your support.”

  “No problem,” Paul replied, infusing his voice with enthusiasm.

  “So where would you like to start things off?”

  “Let’s take some footage of you in your office, working at your desk. Grunge will set things up and make sure the lighting is good and the angles are just right. Then we can get some footage of Rain at her computer. And then—”

  “Rain just went to the kitchen. We’re washing windows today and are short-staffed. She went to get the helpers organized.”

  Paul snapped his fingers. “It would be a nice touch to get some footage of the guests working. It’s important for the public to see the work that goes on here.”

  “We have to respect the guests’ confidentiality,” Maria said, sitting behind her desk. “But I think we can work things out.” She slid things around and stuffed papers into the top drawer. Then she put on her glasses and picked up a pencil, holding it poised above the notepad on her desk. “Should we start with something like this?” she asked.

  “Just give me a minute to set up,” Grunge replied.

  “Maybe we can begin with a wide shot and zoom in on her,” Paul suggested.

  “Everybody’s a director,” Grunge muttered.

  Paul backed away so he didn’t cast a shadow across the desk. “While you’re setting up, I’ll check on the window washers. When you get the shot here, Grunge, take some footage of the eating area and the gathering area. We can do an exterior shot when we leave. I’ll be right back.”

  Grunge nodded.

  Paul passed the sitting area on his way to the kitchen. He recognized several people from his first visit, but little Jayden was not among them and Paul wondered about him. A few people recognized Paul, too, and waved. The elderly man who did the carvings was whittling away at a small block of wood. He came over and grabbed Paul’s hand and shook it vigorously. The man’s skin felt rough and leathery, but his sincerity was evident in the strength of his grip. Paul wished Rain were here to help him hand out more candy. “What are you working on today?” he asked the elderly man.

  “Carving a puppy dog.”

  “Great. Keep up the good work.”

  “Aim to.”

  Paul proceeded to the kitchen and glanced inside, keeping a wary eye out for the man with the water sprayer. What had Rain called him? Charlie. Charlie was nowhere near the sink. Instead, he was with a group of people who were cleaning the windows, both inside and out. Paul could see him through the window, standing on a short ladder, reaching for the top corner of the center section.

  The teenage girl who had refused the candy was standing on a chair on the inside, cleaning a grease smudge off the window. She glanced at Paul from the corner of her eye but quickly returned to her work.

  Jayden stood beside her, on the floor, wiping the lower section of the window. His tongue moved from side to side as he concentrated on his work. He tapped on the glass and pointed to a dirty spot that could only be cleaned from the outside.

  Paul realized who Jayden was talking to. It was Rain. The two of them were working as partners, checking on both sides of the window.

  As Paul glanced around to find a door that led to the outside, he heard Jayden tap louder on the glass.

  “No, over here,” the little boy said.

  Rain’s muffled voice sounded from outside. “You mean over here?” she asked, pointing to a different spot.

  “No, over here!”

  “Over here?” She pointed elsewhere.

  Jayden began laughing. And then so did Rain.

  She suddenly pressed her nose against the glass, puffed out her lips, and made a face. The little boy laughed louder and pulled a face in return. Rain made another face and Jayden shrieked in amusement. The two carried on for a moment until Rain noticed Paul watching them.

  An expression of surprise, mingled with w
hat Paul could only interpret as embarrassment, crossed her face and she disappeared from the window.

  “Hey, where did you go?” Jayden called to her. “I’ve got an even uglier face to show you.”

  Rain reappeared in the window seconds later. “Sorry, no more faces,” she replied through the glass. “Let’s keep working.”

  Paul approached Jayden. “Hey, it looks like you’re working hard.”

  Jayden eyed Paul expectantly and then his countenance fell.

  Once again, Paul chastised himself for forgetting to bring some candy. “Where’s the back door?” he asked.

  “Over here. Come on, I’ll show you.” Jayden took Paul by the hand and led him to the rear door and then outside.

  Rain continued to wash the window, and Paul thought her cheeks looked flushed. She didn’t return his smile when he said, “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she replied, rubbing her cloth vigorously across the glass.

  “Looks like you’re cleaning up a storm.”

  Jayden pulled a face. “There wasn’t any storm. That’s just bird poop on the window.”

  Paul chuckled and ruffled the little boy’s hair. “Those pesky seagulls.” He looked at Rain. “I’ve come today to get some footage for the special. I was hoping to get a segment of some of the work you’re doing here—washing windows, sweeping the floor. You know, to show everyone the hard work that goes on in a shelter.”

  “We’re going to be on TV?” Jayden said. “Cool!”

  Rain’s cloth stopped moving across the glass.

  From his perch on the third rung of the ladder, Charlie gave a cheer. “You mean like The Simpsons?” He struck a pose, with one finger pointed in the air. “D’oh! When will I learn? The answers to life's problems are on TV.”

  Paul looked up at Charlie in surprise. The guy sounded exactly like Homer Simpson!

  “He watches too much TV,” Rain said, shrugging at Paul.

  “He’s pretty good. Maybe we can get some footage of him doing imitations. That would add a personal touch to the feature.”

  “You can get coverage of everyone doing the windows and cleaning up,” Rain said, handing her cleaning cloth to one of the other workers. “But Charlie and Jayden have to come with me right now. We need to do the bathroom checks.”