The Rain Began to Fall

by A. K. Hartline

  The Rain Began to Fall

  By Aaron Hartline

  Copyright © 2012

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America

  CHAPTER 1

  Leigh Thompson pulled up to the traffic light, glanced over at the car on her left, and looked straight into his eyes. She would recall the moment later and realize this was where everything began; where she climbed aboard the dizzying emotional ride that wouldn’t stop until her life had changed forever. Although the exact places and times are not always easily identified, all of the events that change the course of our lives have a precise beginning. A select few of those are of the life altering variety, and one moment in particular is impossible to forget.

  For Leigh, that moment arrived at 8:54 am on a cool, spring morning in Charlotte, North Carolina. She was roughly six minutes away from her place of employment on the outskirts of the city, at a normal driving speed, and that meant she would have to step on it when she saw green if she were to make it on time. This particular traffic light was notoriously long on red; but she did need the time to put on her face, and there she was, staring directly into the marvelous eyes of Kyle Tilston. She stared longer than a casual glance of recognition would warrant, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared. She had begun to turn her head away as soon as she had looked over, but her eyes refused to follow, locking on his the way a deer, to its doom, is caught in the glare of an oncoming automobile’s headlights. The enchanted moment seemed to stretch and distort time; she saw him smile and nod at her, seemingly in slow motion. She was transfixed, and her eyes took on the wide-eyed quality of one lost in thought.

  What the…she thought incoherently, as the hustling and bustling sounds of the busy morning street faded into the background. She seemed to see his eyes and face with great clarity, and she distantly felt a tingling sensation on the back of her neck. Then the sounds began to return, as though someone was gradually turning up the master volume on the universe, and the world around her swam back. The moment had lasted only a few seconds; but to Leigh, as she emerged from the mysterious fog, it seemed much longer.

  Returning his smile nervously, she gained control and turned away. She blinked and glanced up at the light, expecting to see green and hear the honking horns of impatient drivers behind her. But it was still red. She drew a deep, calming breath and exhaled, clearing her throat. Ooookay. What was that? she thought with bewilderment, her heart beating a bit faster. Looking at the dash clock she saw it was now 8:56 am. She was definitely going to be late. She had always taken a great deal of pride in her timeliness and attendance, almost never having been tardy or absent in school or work. But her fiancé, Gene Sykes, had kept her out late last night discussing their future and his budding law career, the latter a subject of which he was most fond. This morning she had simply hit the snooze button one too many times.

  She removed her make-up case from her purse and began touching up her face, still in a daze. She didn’t need a lot of paint. She was a true beauty, and one of the rare ones that seemed entirely unaware of the fact. She was busily brushing her cheeks, successfully ignoring him, when a deafening roar made her literally jump in her seat. Kyle wanted to get her attention and keep it a while longer, so he had gunned the engine of his 1967 electric blue Chevy Nova, a four-bolt main, three-quarter-race cam 427 engine under the hood. Whoa, she thought, exhaling and shaking her head.

  With trembling hands, she put the brush and make-up case back in her pocketbook and flipped up the visor. He did it again, and she fought the urge to look at him, realizing that was exactly what he wanted. The sudden, ridiculous impulse to rev her own engine in response briefly flashed through her mind.

  Leigh was all too familiar with the driver of the hot rod next to her. He was a new employee at Falstead Inc., and this wasn’t her first unusual experience with him. She had taken him through orientation a week ago, in her capacity as the HR manager at the electronics parts corporation, and she remembered him well for two reasons: First, he was extraordinarily handsome; and secondly, throughout the process he had sat slumped in his chair, smiling and training his intense “come hither” eyes on her with unmistakable flirtation. After several minutes of this she had become uncomfortable enough with his steady gaze and smile that she began to fumble her words. She was unable to maintain eye contact, and finished the remainder of the process quickly, keeping her eyes glued on the training guide. While men noticing her and flirting was not an unusual experience, her reaction to Kyle was anything but. She dismissed it afterwards, chalking up the whole thing as a product of her period, which had arrived early and unannounced that very morning. She had forgotten him since.

  But now here he was on her left, revving the engine of his muscle car to ever-higher rpms, as they waited for this impossibly long red light to turn green. The challenging message was plain. They were both going to be late, and only speed would save them from here. She held her breath and glanced over at him quickly. He was still looking at her and smiling. He pointed his right index finger ahead as he continued to rev his engine, daring her. She exhaled and cleared her throat. She looked in the rearview mirror at a blonde in the Lexus behind her, drumming her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. She looked right and saw a moving van pull up beside her and turn onto 8th Street. She had purchased the sporty red Porsche Carrera 991 she was driving three months ago, an indulgent gift to herself - she had fallen in love with the car at a show she and her fiancé had attended last year -, and her heart now picked up pace as she seriously contemplated putting it to the test against this guy. Are you out of your mind? she thought immediately in response to the absurd idea. You have no business even thinking about it! She may have done something like this a few years back, but that was when she was eighteen, not twenty-five and an executive. That was before she became a responsible adult, before she was engaged and about to be married.

  So when the light turned green, she clutched the gear shift and stomped the pedal to the floor. Kyle did the same, and burning rubber poured smoke behind as they pealed out. They both gained traction quickly, but he got a slight jump on her.

  Leigh was no stranger to racing; her father, Austin Thompson, had been part owner in a NASCAR team out of Charlotte. She grew up around that world of speed, and he took her to the track when she was a teenager, teaching her to drive in one of his own cars. She was the son her father never had, a part time tomboy, due to his innocent influence, and her naturally adventurous spirit was such that she could have abandoned a great deal of her effeminate traits had it not been for her mother’s vigilance. Her family’s wealth had been made in the tobacco industry; her father took a small, struggling, family farm he had inherited and turned it into a hugely successful business. Due to his smart management and hard work, he had acquired profits and more land, and, over time, became one of the state’s largest tobacco growers. But her father ultimately sold his farms and operations as he came under the conviction of the harm of the product, and the changing public views on the issue. He had fathered Leigh late in life, and just before she went off to school, he died of heart failure at the age of sixty -nine. Emotionally devastated, she had gone off to college and tried to move on with her life as best she could, her independent and vivacious spirit buried with him.

  But now here she was, pushing her new Porsche to the limits, the thrill of speed and racing momentarily revived. She threw into third gear, and the nose of her car pulled ahead by a yard. The turn on the road leading to Falstead was coming up on the right. The 395 horsepower engine of her car screamed as she slammed into fourth. She glanced at the speedometer: 80 mph. He can’t get in front of me for this turn, she thought confidently. She braked
and geared down. She checked her rearview mirror and saw that he had dropped backed and moved in behind her. She approached the turnoff quickly, and whipped off the four lane onto the two lane back road, braking. She accelerated a little too soon after letting off the brake, gearing from second to fourth, causing the rear end to fishtail slightly. She corrected her slide and gunned the engine, gearing back up to fourth. She looked back and saw that he had made the turn smoothly and was right on her tail. The back road was approximately two miles long, and there were some steep curves; but she had been swept back in time to her teen years and the raceway. She was in the zone now, and she pushed up to 90 mph. She had time to think for a moment and consider herself certifiably crazy, but then shoved the thought unceremoniously aside.

  Kyle was right on her rear, hugging close, as they rounded the first curve to the left. She banked it well, and behind her, he was duly impressed with her driving skills. A half mile gone and they came to a straightaway. Here’s where he’ll make his move, she thought, and she responded by shifting into fifth for the quarter mile straight, pushing the speedometer up to 100 mph. She didn’t manage to create any distance between them, but he did not attempt to pass. His remained close to her rear, as the hood of the Nova vibrated from the rumbling power beneath it. Now they approached another sharp curve, and she geared down to third. She made that curve smoothly, and she geared back up quickly as they came out on the second straightaway. A slight smile played on her lips and she brimmed with confidence as she pushed up to 115 mph. The brush and trees one would normally notice with definition were blurring together on either side as they tore through the morning air. She looked at him in her rearview mirror. Come on wild child, is that all you’ve got? she thought smugly. She noticed that he had fallen back a bit when she came out of the curve and stepped on it, but now he had pulled close to her again, sunlight shimmering off his chrome front bumper and the big block engine growling threateningly. A slight smile played on Kyle’s lips as he focused on the rear of her Porsche. He had hardly expected her to race him, much less this zealous, skilled response. Now he knew he liked her!

  The powerful engines sounded like thunder as they bore down on an S shaped curve. This was a challenging stretch of road to hold, and, caught up in the speed and her winning position on the straightaway, Leigh had to brake and shift quickly down to third to keep from sliding. She didn’t clutch as fast as she throttled and there was an audible grinding from her transmission.

  “Easy, girl,” she muttered through her teeth. He remained glued to her rear as they started into the bottom curve of the S. She glanced quickly in her rearview mirror to check him, and saw the front end of his car so close that they could only be separated by inches. She shifted, tapped the brake, looked again in the rearview mirror, and he was gone!

  Kyle had been rubbing the knob of his Mickey gearshift, waiting for the exact moment to engage the overdrive. He knew it would serve him as always, providing a tremendous burst of power, but the timing had to be just right; the rpms couldn’t be too high. The bottom of the curve was the right speed, and when he dropped it and punched the pedal, the powerful surge caused his head to smack back against the head rest. Sure this was a two lane road and a blind pass. Sure an oncoming vehicle could nail him. But did he want to beat this chick? Bet your life.

  Leigh couldn’t believe he was attempting to pass her as they went back right at the top of the curve. What was he thinking? He could be killed! She could see peripherally the front end of his car pulling up beside her. To brake at that moment and allow him to pass as quickly as possible to avoid a potentially devastating accident would have been the sane thing to do. But she wasn’t sane at the moment. She had morphed into a fearsome opponent in the excitement of the race. If you want to play rough, big boy, she thought recklessly, I’m game! She set her jaw and accelerated to hold off the challenge. Still, his unnerving move caused her to overreact. She almost slid into him as she accelerated, and then instinctively hit her brake too hard, fumbling in neutral for just a blink as she almost geared down to second instead of third. It was just the opening he needed. He stomped the pedal to the floor and the Nova leapt forward, fish tailing wildly. Gravel sprayed as his back left tire caught the shoulder of the road, but then he gained traction back on the pavement. There was less than a foot between them, the bodies of their cars almost touching as they screeched around the top of the curve. Tiny beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead as she futilely watched him pulling ahead. She so badly wanted to stop the pass from happening, but she had lost her advantage. As they came out of the curve and the road straightened out, he jerked the steering wheel sharply to the right and moved in front of her, his tires squealing loudly. She had to brake hard to keep from slamming into his rear, and she fell back further.

  “Snap!” she hollered, pounding her small fist on the steering wheel. Watching him pull away she floored it in frustration in a last ditch effort to catch up, but it was hopeless. He had the distance, and he was the first one in the Falstead parking lot. He pulled into an empty parking space and killed the motor, watching as she pulled in behind him and parked in her designated space.

  Leigh parked and looked to the right, two rows over, and could clearly see him sitting behind the wheel, grinning at her. Now that the race was over and a sense of normalcy had returned, she could hardly believe what she had just done. What on earth possessed me? she wondered anxiously. She watched him jump out of his car with a bounce, hurriedly. If he wants to footrace me to the door he can forget it! She got out of her car, smoothing her red skirt. Locking the door with a press on her remote, she swung her pocketbook over her shoulder. A slight breeze caught her long blonde hair and blew it back, and as Kyle walked toward her he smiled, admiring her incredible beauty. When she saw him approaching out of the corner of her eye, however, she turned away, aiming to walk quickly toward the building and avoid any dialogue. Having now gained some perspective, she realized this could be dangerous ground, whatever she felt back there, whatever made her do what she had just done. This was the second time she had lost it with this guy, and she knew if she encouraged him anymore, it could lead her on a path to somewhere, with an unknown, physically desirable man that would only create imbalance at a crucial time in her life. And why, when she was to be married in less than three months, was she even susceptible to such temptation? That was a thought better crushed and left to die where it was.

  She then realized something that gave her pause. She was sure their little race would make lively conversation this morning amongst the boys in the plant. How would that sound if it got back to her peers? She had a position and a reputation to uphold.

  She turned around to face him, and there were those eyes as he walked up, looking straight into her, beautiful and captivating.

  “Not bad… for a girl,” he said, smiling and pushing his keys into his front pocket.

  “Listen, I don’t know why I did that,” she replied, laughing nervously and choosing, for the moment, to ignore his chauvinistic statement

  ”You like to race?” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders. He was smiling that beautiful smile, and it was infectious. She returned it, then caught herself and started for the building. He followed.

  “I mean, I just went crazy for some reason, you know?” she explained, stealing glances at him, “just having a little fun.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” he replied. She stopped and faced him with a serious expression.

  “Look, you know the position I’m in here, and I would really appreciate it if you would keep our little race to yourself, just between you and me. Can you do that?” she pleaded. “If you know what I mean.”

  He knew exactly what she meant, but he merely cocked his head to the side and continued smiling at her. He then turned away, walking toward the building. She followed him after a moment, frustrated, awaiting his agreement. At the front door he held it open for her, bowing and waving her in. She walked through, rolling her eyes. The clock o
n the wall of the entryway read 8:01 am.

  “Well?” she pressed, with no little impatience, as she pushed the button on the elevator that would take her to her office. He walked silently toward the plant entrance, then turned around and smiled. With one hand on the door handle, he made the scout’s honor sign with the other.

  “It’ll be our secret,” he said solemnly, and then, with a smile and a wink, he was through the door and gone.

  CHAPTER 2

  Leigh entered her office, opened the blinds and sat down behind her desk. As she began perusing her itinerary for the day, she heard Kyle’s voice speak up in her mind: “It’ll be our secret.” That had sounded awfully cozy, but she had only herself to blame for creating the situation where he would be comfortable enough with her to say that, to imply even a remote intimacy between them. What happened to me back there? she wondered. Staring at him at the traffic light had felt other worldly; something she couldn’t find the words to describe. It was truly bizarre. And then racing him? She shook her head and laughed. Her eyes fell on a photo of she and her fiancé, smiling happily together from inside a heart shaped frame. The picture was taken on vacation in Seattle last year, and with the remembrance of that trip and her commitment to the man in the photo, she felt guilty about her thoughts.

  Gene was a lawyer, naturally, following in the footsteps of his father. Sykes, Sykes & Barnhill was one of the largest and most successful law firms in Charlotte, and had been Thompson Tobacco Growers representation. Joseph Sykes, Gene’s father and founder of the firm, and Austin Thompson had been both friends and business associates as long as she could remember. The two families were close and had vacationed together on a few occasions. She and Gene had been childhood friends, and the idea they might be a match someday had been advanced subtly over the years by both families. He kissed her for the first time on her sixteenth birthday, and she had known no other since. He was a burgeoning orator and litigator, like his father, and he had also inherited his workaholic ways. He wasn’t exactly GQ in the looks department, but he was a good man for the most part. She had not dated anyone during her college years, although she had certainly planned to shop around, had planned to tell Gene that she needed some time to discover herself. She had been afraid of settling, fearful she might miss out on something or someone.