It Pours (Chambers of the Heart Book 2)

by C D Cain

  “Then don’t. Baby steps, my friend. Baby steps. You’ve got to take one step at a time. First your mother. Then you’ll decide where to go from there.”

  A thought flashed. “Oh, dear Lord, Nadine.”

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  “Nadine. Grant’s mother.” A wave of anxiety washed over me. “I had completely forgotten about her. I was only thinking about the wrath of Charlie Grace. Hell, if she doesn’t tell the whole town, Nadine sure will. She’ll want to have a good reason to take the blame off of Grant for our break-up. I’m not looking forward to talking to her at all.”

  “The pros and cons of family, I suppose. Geez, it’s not like it’s hard enough to come out but damn, girl, you’ve got to come out to the world within days of coming out to yourself.”

  “Feels much like that.”

  “Hey, you know what?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got this.” Her mouth was full again. “You know that? You’ve got this,” she said with a strength that seemed to carry across the distance between us. “I’ve got all of the faith in the world in you, my friend. You’re one of those women I admire. You’ve got this incredible strength in you. A strength in you that you don’t even realize. Once you tap into it, you’re going to be a force let me tell you.”

  “Thank you.” I felt a hint of what she described and let myself collapse into it. “You’re my best friend. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Lucky for you,” she said as she took another bite, “you’ll never have to find out.”

  “Good God woman, what are you eating? The whole refrigerator?”

  She laughed. “Pretty much. I told you I was starving.”

  “I believe you.” I set the pillow I had been clutching next to me and slipped my body down into the comfort of the bed. I had to try to find some form of sleep before I faced the fury which awaited me a short two hours’ drive away. “Hey, Jazlyn?”

  “Mmmmm hmmmm.”

  “Is Mo really okay? Charlie Grace was a real bitch to her.”

  “She’s fine and trust me, she’s had worse in her life.”

  “Maybe so, but not in front of me and not by my mother’s hands.”

  “She’s okay. I’ll tell her you asked about her and that we talked.”

  “I didn’t want her to leave, Jazlyn. I really didn’t.”

  She was quiet for a minute. The sigh I heard her express seemed to tell me more than her words did because all she said was, “I know.”

  Was she sighing for me? For Mo? Or maybe for both of us?

  “Welcome to Brennin, Louisiana. The friendly city.” The letters were written in a semi-circle over the picture of a fleur-de-lis. The hum of my jeep engine was the only sound I heard in the silence of the morning. I hadn’t intended to get out of the jeep when I pulled off of the road but I felt my strength wavering when I saw the sign. It marked the entrance into the place I had once found to be a breath of air into my lungs. It represented a happiness of home which filtered into my nasal passages as pure oxygen gifted solely to me. Now it was tainted by a sourness tinged with bitterness as to the wonder of what would be in the place I called home. Not just the home I had grown up in but the home in the town. The town itself was as much my home as the one where Charlie Grace awaited me. The brick-laid streets of downtown were like my playground. The eclectic shops were like my bedroom. The bayou and the outskirts of town were my toys. And the people…the people…all of them were my family. How much of this would change today? How much if any would stay the same? Would it continue to be the friendly city to me? A lump formed in my throat as I let my forehead fall to rest against the cold metal of the road sign.

  “I wondered when you’d be here.” Jacques was sitting alone in a rocking chair on the expansive front porch. A coffee cup rested on the rocker’s arm. Steam floated from the cup’s rim into the crisp December air.

  I sat in the chair next to him. “You knew I was coming.”

  “Figured but didn’t know.”

  “Does she?”

  He blew into the cup before taking a swallow. “I’m not sure but probably.”

  “Jacques?”

  “Yeah, kiddo?”

  “Do you hate me?”

  He stopped the rocker firmly in place and looked at me. “What? No. Why on earth would I hate you?”

  “Disgusted by me then?”

  He bent over the arm of the chair to put his cup on the concrete and stood in front of me with his arms spread wide. “Sweet girl, I could never hold anything but love for you and never, ever disgust.”

  I rose quickly to be consumed by his arms. I cried into his chest as he held me tightly against him.

  “You’re my daughter, Rayne. There’s nothing you could ever do to change that. There’s nothing you could ever do that would lessen the love I feel for you.” He slowly rocked me in his arms and didn’t lessen his hold until my tears slowed.

  I pulled away to look him in the eyes but remained in the comfort of his arms. “So how bad is it going to be in there?”

  “On a scale of one to ten?”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh about…” He pretended to think. “A hundred and ten.” He smiled and returned to his rocker. “Might as well bite the bullet.”

  I found her in the kitchen. Her back was to me as she stared out the window. Her breaths were rhythmic and steady. Her arms were relaxed across the kitchen sink. I watched her for several minutes before I let my presence be known. There was an absence in the air. One I had not come to recognize in Mother’s kitchen. I’d recognized silence before. The eerie silence where there wasn’t a sound carried in the air. The calm of a day or night when not a sound was heard…not a breeze rustling leaves, nor an insect’s call or a bird’s song. I’d heard that silence before. This was a silence of scent in a kitchen known for its smells of cooking, baking, or simply brewed coffee. There was nothing in the air. Nothing tickled the nasal passages.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Her back stiffened yet she remained facing the window.

  “Mother, we need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Well for starters about yesterday. About me. About Grant. Why did you do that? Why did you tell him?”

  “Did you not think he deserved to know?” Her voice was calm, flat, and without emotion. I wondered if she had always been calloused like this. It didn’t seem genetic as I had not been equipped with such a talent. Neither did I remember Memaw having such a measured insensitive composure as what Charlie Grace exhibited. Surely this was a talent acquired over years of practice.

  “Of course, he deserved to know. But in my time, not yours.”

  “And exactly when was your time, Rayne Amber?”

  “I don’t know, Mother. But it was my choice to make, not yours.”

  “Well, it seems you’ve been making many choices lately.” She turned to me. The strength in my legs buckled. “And not one single one of them is any good.”

  Never had I seen her look this way. It wasn’t simply the fact that I could count on one hand the times I had seen her wear such little makeup as she wore today but rather something in the eyes. It wasn’t just the redness and puffiness of eyes changed by a night of tears. It was the way she held me with those eyes. The way she looked at me.

  I had asked Jacques if he was disgusted or if his love for me had changed after he found out about what Charlie Grace had seen of me. I had asked because I didn’t see the evidence in his eyes and wondered if they hid his true feelings. There was no need to ask her as she held me in the grayness of them. Fittingly ironic, the color of her eyes. Gray. But the look was pure black and white without any doubt to the emotion behind them. I wouldn’t want to admit it was hated. But perhaps disgust would fit nicely? Yes, I could say that easily. One could even go with contempt. I foun
d the words I had practiced in the brightness of my headlights as they reflected the passing miles to be absent. The speech made in preparation of our imminent debate was gone. The arguments I had devised in defense of who I had learned or accepted myself to be were also gone. All of them, vanished. Lost in the abyss of the gray eyes before me.

  “Tell me, what is it you drove all this way to say?” She leaned her back against the kitchen sink and folded her arms.

  “I don’t know so much as to say something versus talking. I would like to talk about this.”

  “Talk about what?”

  “Yesterday, Mother. Don’t be like this. It’s hard enough without all of this.”

  “Talk about yesterday. You want to talk about yesterday.” She walked around the kitchen island and sat at the breakfast table. “I’m not sure there is much to talk about.”

  “Oh, isn’t there?” I started to walk toward her but she turned to the window as if hoping I wouldn’t come any closer. Not that I minded her taking those eyes away from me to look out into the backyard.

  “I suppose there is one question I have to ask.”

  “Yes, and what’s that?” Slowly, I took a step closer to her. I hoped she wouldn’t hear my footsteps on the tile floor.

  She kept her attention fixated on the willow tree outside the large bay window for what seemed like forever. “Was that my son-in-law?”

  I stopped my steps. “I’m sorry. What?”

  She turned in her chair to face me. Her eyes still held the same emotion as the one earlier yet this time my knees didn’t threaten to give way. She propped her arm on the back of the chair. “I said.” She looked directly at me as if daring me to not answer her question. “Did I meet my son-in-law yesterday?”

  I was horrified. The contempt I felt with her words and her accusation caused a rancid taste in my mouth. I suppose it was in that moment of feeling protection for Mo I realized I loved her. I wouldn’t allow Charlie Grace to compare her to a man or insinuate she to be like a son-in-law. I had the sickening thought of Charlie Grace’s actions causing Mo to leave me—to end whatever it was we had or were trying to develop. Not that Mo was even thinking of anything developing. She had made that all too obvious. Which bothered me the most was difficult to answer.

  “I find that question to be completely crass and uncalled for.”

  “Oh, did I offend you? Did you not like the way I referred to the nearly nude woman I found in your home yesterday? The nude woman who obviously has such high morals that she had sex with an engaged woman.”

  “I’m not engaged.”

  “Don’t remind me. I was there. Remember? The night you made a spectacle of the entire evening. Did you break off your engagement because of her?”

  “Not because of her.” I walked to stand in between her and the window she tried to look around me to see. “Let’s forget her for a moment.”

  “I’d like to forget her for more than a moment if it suits you just fine.”

  “Mother, please. I’m trying here.” I sat down in the chair across from her. “It’s not about her. It’s not really about Grant. Even though he and I grew to want other things in our lives. This has nothing to do with him either.” I pointed my finger at my chest and tapped my sternum. “This is about me. Only me. No one else. This is who I am.”

  “Don’t be absurd, Rayne. You don’t just turn gay overnight.”

  “No.” I shook my head in agreement. “No, you don’t. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. I never had the strength to accept it until recently.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not.” I reached for her hand but she pulled it away and dropped it under the table.

  “What?” She looked down at her lap. “What did I do wrong? Are you so angry with me that you would do this to me? Do you have such ill feeling toward me that this was a way to get back at me?”

  I continued to shake my head “No” to all of the things she kept saying. “No. No. That’s not it at all. This isn’t a choice I made to get back at you or to punish you. It’s not a choice at all.”

  “Don’t fool yourself, young lady.” She lifted her head. “This most certainly is a choice.”

  “How? How do you figure this is a choice?”

  “Because it is. You are choosing the path to sin. You are choosing a path against God…a direct abomination against him. You are to repent and pray for forgiveness. Choose to have faith in the word and not let yourself be tempted. You can choose to not be this way. To not act on those urges and live the life you are supposed to live.”

  “Supposed to live by whose design?”

  “By God’s. There is no gray line here, Rayne. You are choosing a life of sin and fornication.”

  “I committed fornication with Grant but I don’t seem to remember you getting all up in arms about it.”

  She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. “I’ll not sit here and continue this any further.”

  I stood to meet her. “Mother, wait.” I reached for her arm and this time made contact before she could pull away. I felt the muscles of her forearm tighten as she tried to pull her arm free. “Please just wait. Let’s not be like this.”

  “Are you going to continue to live this way?”

  “I’m going to continue to live the way I feel is for me. I’m going to continue to follow what I feel…yes.”

  Her chin gave a small quiver. “Then I can’t love you this way.”

  I fell back into the chair and was thankful for its support. “You’re my mother.” I wished the wooden seat could magically transport me to another time or another place. One that didn’t have the words she had spoken hanging in the air with such sharpness and need to cut. “You’re my mother. You’re supposed to love me no matter what.”

  She started to turn away but shifted her shoulder to look at me again. There was no hesitation in her voice nor was there doubt behind her eyes. “I can’t love you like this.” She turned on her heels and walked to the door. Her back stiffened as she stopped just inside of the doorway. “I can’t love a daughter I know in my heart I’ll not see in eternal Heaven. You’re an abomination to all that I believe in. I’m sorry I ever gave birth to you.”

  Crack.

  Fissure.

  Break.

  Two steps later, she was gone. I sat in the quiet for several minutes, I was unsure if I was waiting for her return or if I merely lacked the power to stand on my own two feet. Of course, I knew this would not be easy for her to accept. Hell, it was damn hard for me to. much less her. Yet I had never entertained the thought her reaction would be this strong. Who could look their own daughter directly in the eyes and tell them they were no longer or could no longer be loved because of who they fundamentally were? How could a mother feel, much less say, she hated her child to the point she longed for the day they had not been born?

  Had I been cursed with such a woman for a mother or did she feel as the majority of those felt? Flossie had given me a glimpse into a very different response. Was hers and Memaw an example of how others in the town would feel or would they be closer to Charlie Grace? The better question was, could I handle it if they were?

  I had been to the cabin this time of year. Not many times, but enough to where I wasn’t expecting it to feel as differently as it felt today. I suppose December in the south was different than many other states. Our December most likely felt like their fall season. The leaves had browned and dried but many still remained attached to their branches. The sound from them was coarse when the breeze rustled them.

  The sun’s light was bright with enough warmth to keep my body comfortable as I sat out on the dock. The drive here had reminded me of those long before I had left for medical school. The days when I drove with Memaw to our place on the bayou. The days when I tried wholeheartedly to soak up every ounce of the feel of my h
ome. I felt the pull of losing the one place that centered me in this world. The one comfort I had when all else was lost.

  Today, I drove here again with the same looming need to once again absorb every facet of Brennin. It wouldn’t be something taking me away this time but something pushing me away. I lay back against the wood and stared at the cloudless sky. The blue called me to remember the other comfort I once had. There had been two sets of blue eyes that had held me with the tenderness I had grown up to know. Two sets I would undoubtedly never see again. Two sets that would hold the key to shaking the pit of loneliness I felt myself falling into.

  My whole body was startled with the shadowed darkness of the sun no longer being cast upon my face. I opened my eyes to see a larger-than-life-looking Flossie standing over me.

  “Hey, baby girl. I knew’d you’d be out here.” She shifted her weight and I squinted to the brightness of the light no longer shielded by her body. “Mind if’n I take a seat?”

  “Not at all.” I sat up to scoot over so she would have enough room on the edge of the dock.

  “How you doing?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  “Yep, I imagine dat’s ‘bout right.”

  “How did you know I was here? Did Charlie Grace call you?”

  “Nope. I hadn’t heard a peep outta her until I went over there dis morning.” She wiggled her feet as they hung off the edge of the dock. “And truth be told, it tweren’t her dat told me a thing. It was Jacques. He’s mighty upset with’n her. Mighty upset. In fact, dat man left right behind me. Said he had to get away before he done said words he can’t take back.” She looked at me. “Dat man worried about you. He just ‘bout bust with love for you. Plum near broke dis old lady down to see dat much hurtin’ in his eyes. He asked me to find you. I didn’t think you’d a wantin’ me to bring him out here tho.”