Getting Caught in the Rain

by Barron, Melinda

  “It hurts,” she said. “But remember I like the pain.”

  “I love your weirdness,” he said.

  “It goes perfectly with yours.” They kissed again.

  “I’m going to have to buy lip balm to keep up with all this kissing,” he said as they got out.

  “Complaining?” she asked.

  “Not in the least.” They joined hands and went into the building. The main room was large like a cafeteria, and there were many different tables set up. People were playing cards, and dominos, and several different board games. They were laughing and joking with each other.

  “I can imagine Agatha in here,” Rachel said. “I’m glad she had friends, and that she made a special one here.”

  “May I help you?” A woman came up beside them. “You don’t look old enough to know your way around here.” She laughed at her words, and Rachel joined in.

  “We’re looking for Charles Trent,” Dex said. “Is he here?”

  “Not today,” she said. “His lady friend passed away, and I’m afraid he’s taking it very hard.”

  “Do you know how we can get hold of him?” Dex asked. “I mean, can you give us his phone number?”

  Rachel could see that the woman was not happy about being asked for information about a member.

  “If you can’t give us his phone number, can you give him ours, and ask him to call us?” Rachel said.

  The woman, who had not introduced herself, perked up. “I can do that.”

  Rachel’s phone rang, and the sound made her jump. She pulled it from her pocket and checked the ID.

  “It’s Mrs. Ping.” She tapped the screen and said hello. “Can you give me just a minute, please?” After hitting mute, Rachel dug a card out of her purse and gave it to the woman. “Please have him call me.”

  The woman nodded as she tucked the card into her pocket. They walked outside and Rachel went back to her call.

  “Sorry about that,” she said.

  “Dear, I have information for you,” Mrs. Ping said. “What about doing that dinner tonight?”

  “Hold on a second,” Rachel said. She hit mute again and explained the situation to Dex. “She wanted us to take her to dinner for doing the search.”

  “Invite her to dinner at the Gap,” he said. “There will be more than enough. I’ll drive her out, and drive her back after. We can stay at the loft tonight.”

  “Great plan,” Rachel said. She got back on the phone, and was happy when Mrs. Ping agreed immediately. They agreed to pick her up around five.

  “I’ll call Carrie to tell her to set another place at the table,” he said. “I’m sure she and Tommy will enjoy hearing whatever it is Mrs. Ping has to tell us.”

  * * *

  “Can I help with anything?” Rachel stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching as Carrie moved around like someone had lit a fire under her toes.

  “Check the bread in the oven,” Carrie said. “I don’t want it to burn.”

  Rachel rushed to do her bidding. She wanted this first couples—well couples plus one—event to go well. She wanted to work things out with Carrie, as she’d told Dex she would. But she wasn’t really good at this sort of thing, so she wasn’t sure what to say.

  She opened the oven door and said, “Looks good to me.”

  “Pull it out, will you?”

  Once the tray was on the counter, Carrie looked it over. “It’s done.”

  “Thanks for cooking dinner,” Rachel said.

  “You mean thanks for taking over your kitchen?” Carrie asked.

  “This is not my kitchen,” Rachel said. She didn’t want to add not yet. “Listen, I’m not much of a cook, and when Dex and I—” She stopped herself right before she said, are married and said instead, “are together, you should know I don’t expect things to change in this regard. I mean, I… crap. I want us to be friends. And I don’t intend to hurt Dex.” Or to be hurt in the process she said, silently.

  Carrie nodded, then she reached for a bowl of salad and gave it to Rachel. “If you’ll set this on the table, I think we’re ready.”

  They sat down and plated food, and as they started eating, Mrs. Ping said, “Your young man is going to bring me out to see the buffalo sometime.”

  Rachel laughed softly. She waited for Dex to correct Mrs. Ping, but he didn’t.

  “They are majestic animals,” Rachel said. “You’ll be impressed with them.”

  “I’m sure I will,” Mrs. Ping said.

  They ate in silence for a while, even though Rachel wanted to scream out that she wanted to hear what Mrs. Ping’s friend Trixie had found out. But she kept her mouth closed, so they ate, and discussed trivial things like weather and the house and the land around them.

  When they were finally done, Mrs. Ping asked Dex to retrieve her purse. When she had it, she reached inside and pulled out a few sheets of folded paper and handed them to Rachel.

  “Read, if you please.”

  Once the papers were unfolded, Rachel scanned the headline, and she let out a soft sigh of breath.

  “What does it say?” Dex asked.

  “It’s a newspaper article dated April 9, 1973,” she said. “The headline reads infant killed in car accident.”

  “Shit,” Dex said, and then he quickly added, “I’m so sorry for my mouth, Mrs. Ping.”

  “Fiddlesticks,” the woman said. “Go on, Rachel, read the article.”

  “A six-month old infant was killed and his mother critically wounded in a car accident just south of Canyon this morning. According to reports from the DPS, a car driven by Dale Bales left the roadway, overcorrected and flipped over. The driver was not seriously injured but his sister, Agatha Bales, is in critical condition. The child, six-month-old Brett Bales, was pronounced dead at the scene by the justice of the peace. Officers believe the driver fell asleep at the wheel. Funeral services are pending.”

  “Oh, poor Agatha,” Rachel said.

  “I can’t believe they never said anything to me about this,” Dex said. “They never talked about it, not once.”

  Rachel took Dex’s hand and squeezed. “I would say this was why your father refused to make Agatha leave, that she lived with them until they moved to Florida. He felt guilty.”

  “Yeah,” Dex said.

  There was one more thing, of course. “It means Agatha had a child out of wedlock,” Rachel said. She rattled the papers in her hand. “Let’s see what the other sheets have on them.”

  Rachel flipped the page. “It’s an obituary. Brett Michael Bales, infant son of Agatha Bales and the late Brett Michael Andrews…” Tears welled in her eyes and she threw the paper on the table. “I just don’t think I can read anymore.”

  Dex picked it up and continued, “died in a car accident two days ago. The child was born November 9, 1972 in Amarillo. He was preceded in death by his father, who was killed in action in Vietnam six months before the child’s birth. Survivors include his mother, several aunts and uncles, and his grandparents. The child was cremated, and his ashes spread near the family’s vacation home in Red River, New Mexico. There will be no service.”

  “Which is why Agatha wants to be there, to be with her son,” Rachel said as she wiped away tears. “Poor Agatha. How could she have carried this around all these years?”

  “Agatha always was strong,” Dex said. “I wonder if she stayed with my parents all those years because she wanted to, or if my Dad made her because he felt guilty.”

  “Maybe if you ask him direct questions he will answer,” she said.

  Dex shrugged, and then he picked up his glass of tea. “Mrs. Ping, thank you for this.”

  “I wish it were happier news,” she said. “But your aunt sounds like she was a wonderful woman. Trixie showed me her obituary. It sounded as if she had a wonderful sense of humor, and lived a full life.”

  “She did,” Rachel said. “She overcame a lot of adversity, obviously, to live a full life. We should honor her by doing the same.”

 
“We will,” Dex said. “And we’ll name our first son Brett.”

  Rachel leaned into his shoulder, nodded her head, and cried.

  Chapter 10

  They sat outside the lawyer’s office Monday afternoon, their hands entwined as they stared at the building. Dex had called his father on Sunday, but he’d refused to talk, saying only that it was over and there was no need to dredge it up again.

  All he said was, “The accident was my fault, Agatha was holding Brett, and he died.” Dex turned his gaze toward her. “Then he said he wouldn’t talk about it ever again. I think that means he does carry guilt, that he blames himself for Brett’s death.”

  “It was way before the days of car seat laws,” Rachel said. “People used to think the safest place for a baby was in their mother’s arms.”

  Dex didn’t say anything, and she put her hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry about all this, that it’s being dumped on you while you’re still dealing with Agatha’s death.”

  “You are too,” he said.

  “Together.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Let’s get the last of it done. Well, hopefully it’s the last of it. We’ll still have the auction and the house sale to deal with, but I think that’s about it, right?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe the lawyer has a list, or something. Let’s go inside and find out.”

  Once upstairs an assistant led them to a conference room. “Mr. Hart will be with you in just a few minutes, as soon as everyone is here.”

  “Everyone?” Rachel looked between Dex and the assistant, who was already out the door.

  “Have my parents come into town and not let us know?” Dex asked. She could see his face was getting red. “If they are, I’m really going to be pissed. He rushes me off the phone and then comes into town for the reading of the will? That damn asshole.”

  “Dex!” Rachel sat down at one of the chairs at the table. “You’re talking about your father. You may be angry with him, but you shouldn’t call him names. The two of you are going to have to come to terms with this.”

  There was a soft knock on the door, and when it opened, the assistant stepped inside again, followed by an older man.

  “Mr. Hart?” Dex asked after the door had closed again.

  “No, Charles Trent,” the man said. “I didn’t expect to be called to this, much less meet anyone else.”

  “No, you just expected to leave a basket of knitting on the front porch and run away,” Dex said.

  Rachel could see this wasn’t heading anywhere good. She stood quickly and offered her hand.

  “Mr. Trent, I’m Rachel Mixon, and this is Dexter Bales.”

  “Yes, I recognize you from photos in Agatha’s house,” he said. He shook Rachel’s hand, and then offered his hand to Dex. At first, Rachel thought Dex would refuse him; either that or he would bundle his hand into a fist and punch the man in the face.

  But after a few, long seconds he did the right thing. When they dropped hands, Rachel took her seat again. Dex sat next to her, and Charles Trent sat across from them.

  “We left you our phone number,” Dex said.

  “I got it this morning,” Trent said. “Something told me you would be here.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Rachel took the opportunity to pour them each a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. When she’d passed them out she said, “Something tells me Agatha would not want us bickering.”

  “Very true,” Trent said. “I’m sorry for not knocking on the door the other night, but I had just found out about Agatha, and when I saw your vehicles in her driveway I wasn’t sure what she’d told you, or how you’d react to me. In other words I was a 75-year-old chicken.”

  Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. When she looked over at Dex it was to see there was a smile on his face, too.

  “I don’t want you to think badly of me,” Trent said. “I was married to my wife for almost forty years when she died. I’ve been alone for almost ten now. Agatha brought light and laughter into my life. I’m going to miss her more than you know.”

  The older man wiped a tear from his cheek, and Rachel resisted the urge to hug him. There was no telling if Trent would welcome her touch, or would think she was butting in when all he really wanted was to vent about losing his friend.

  “How long have you known her?” Dex asked.

  “About a year,” Trent said. “At first we were just friends, playing cards and dominos at the center. But about six months ago we became more. We ate together, when she was not with one of you, and—”

  “Don’t.” Dex held up his hands. “I don’t want to know the details.”

  “I was going to say we became great friends,” he said. Rachel could see the beginnings of a grin on Trent’s face, though. They had been more than friends, and why not? She thought it was wonderful that Agatha had taken a lover, had enjoyed life with him.

  “I have no idea why I’m here,” Trent said. “Agatha and I promised each other that we would not leave each other anything when we died, that money, houses, possessions… they belonged with family.”

  “I have no clue,” Dex said. “I don’t say that to be mean, I just—since Agatha died I’ve found out things about her that I’d never known. Did you know about her son?”

  “Yes,” Trent said.

  Rachel felt Dex stiffen beside her. Obviously it was hard for him to find out Agatha’s new friend knew more about his aunt than they did. It wasn’t exactly easy for her, but she and Agatha had talked about sex before, after she’d caught Rachel and Dex fooling around.

  Agatha’s words still echoed in her mind. “Sex is a great thing, Rachel. It brings two people closer together, and it helps them to know each other. It is the most wonderful of things. But don’t have sex just to have sex. It feels good physically, but it makes you feel bad after a while.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Rachel had said.

  “Think of true love as getting caught in the rain,” Agatha had said. “It catches you totally unawares, you don’t have an umbrella to protect yourself, yet the rain hitting your body feels incredible. It makes you smile. It makes you want to dance. That’s what true love will feel like, Rachel. It will catch you off guard and make you want to dance and swirl. Think of it as getting caught in the rain.”

  Rachel took a deep drink of her water. Why had this thought come into her mind right now? Was it because she wondered how Agatha had felt about being with Charles Trent? Had she, after all these years, got caught in the rain?

  It was a wonderful idea to think that she had, even though she was sick, and facing the end of her life, found a man she could love and be with until the end. It saddened Rachel that it had taken Agatha’s death to make her realize how much she’d missed having Dex in her life, how she wanted to be with him until the end.

  The door to the conference room opened and the movement jarred Rachel out of her thoughts. She watched as a handsome man, in his late thirties or early forties, came into the room. He had a file in his hand. He crossed to the side of the table where Charles Trent sat and nodded to each of them in return.

  “Nicholas Hart,” he said. “Can I get anyone anything besides the water?”

  All three of them said no and the lawyer took his seat. Rachel couldn’t help but think that he was more relaxed than she’d expected a lawyer to be.

  “This won’t take long,” he said. “I have some papers for you to sign, and we need to discuss the transfer of deeds. Agatha left the house in Amarillo to you, Ms. Mixon, and she left the family vacation home in New Mexico to you, Mr. Bales.”

  “What? No,” Rachel said.

  Dex put his hand on her arm. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Remember.” He wiggled his ring finger and she nodded.

  “You’re right.”

  “There is also the matter of the life insurance policy,” he said. “My office can file for you, and the money should be ready within days.”

  “Life insurance?” Dex
said.

  “Two-hundred thousand, a hundred thousand apiece is what Agatha proposed,” Hart said.

  Rachel was too stunned to say anything. She stared at the lawyer, then turned to Dex. “Did you know about this?”

  “No,” he said, his shock obvious by the tone of his voice.

  “According to my records she bought it in the early 1980s,” Hart said.

  “Right about the time I was born,” Dex said.

  “Dexter Bales was the first beneficiary according to the company’s records,” Hart said. “Rachel Mixon was added around 1998.”

  Before they could say anything in response, the lawyer opened the file. “I have letters for each of you, and Mr. Bales, I have something else for you.” He passed out three envelopes before he reached into his pocket and took out a ring box.

  Rachel stared at him, her heart racing as Dex picked it up. He opened it up and she gasped.

  Nestled inside was a set of wedding rings, two silver bands that matched, and a simple engagement ring that showcased a princess cut bright blue sapphire.

  “Agatha was engaged to be married to the father of her child when he was killed,” Hart said. “She told me these were the rings they were going to use for their wedding. She wanted you to have them.”

  Hart turned his gaze toward Rachel, and he didn’t have to say that Agatha wanted Dex to use them when he married Rachel. That was obvious.

  “They’re beautiful,” she said.

  Dex picked up the engagement ring and held it out. “Give me your hand,” he said.

  Her hand shook as she did as he asked. He slipped the ring onto her ring finger, and it shocked her that it fit perfectly. The sapphire twinkled as she moved it from side to side.

  Dex slid the male ring onto his finger, at least as far as it would go. “We can get this one sized,” he said.

  “Are you saying you’ve already decided to get married?” Trent asked.

  “Yes, we’re leaving for Santa Fe as soon as we’re done here, and getting married tomorrow,” he said. “Then we’re going to the cabin to—to scatter Agatha’s ashes.”