The Rain Began to Fall

by A. K. Hartline

  He carried the chutes of champagne over to the couch and sat them on the coffee table, then took a seat beside her. He knew the secret to getting back in the graces of a woman, and today, he had opened his wallet at Jenkins Jewelry and bought it; a lovely pair of diamond earrings.

  He folded one leg under the other, and turned to face her. She looked at the chute of champagne, then over at Gene, who had lifted his and was now sipping. He pointed at her glass.

  “Drink up, Leigh,” he said. “It’s Dom Perignon. Only the best for you darling.” He watched her face closely, looking for some sign that the ice was melting. She picked up her glass.

  “Thank you,” she responded. She took a sip. She wasn’t a big fan of champagne (and didn’t he know that?), but she could stand it as he had gone to the trouble and expense. He placed his glass on the table and rubbed his hands together.

  “Leigh, I don’t want this to sound like a cliché’, but the job has been tough lately,” he began. “You know about the Roberson case! It’s got me a little sideways.” She did not respond, so he continued. “I guess my fuse is a bit short, but it’s important, you know?” He paused, hoping for an acknowledgment, but there was still no reaction from her. He shifted on the couch, then rose and walked over to the mantle, leaning on it and putting a hand to his forehead.

  “Okay,” she finally said. He turned and faced her like an eager puppy. “I understand that. But the way you were talking down to me last night, it’s not the first time it’s happened. I don’t know ...”

  “Honey, I didn’t mean to…” he interrupted, but she held up her hand. The lawyer in him never stops, she thought with exasperation.

  “Let me finish,” she demanded.

  “Sorry,” he replied quickly, zipping his lip with his thumb and index finger.

  “Okay,” she continued. “I know I didn’t tell you where I was going, but that was no excuse for you to go into a rage on me in public!” He winced. He wanted badly to respond, his mouth actually quivering from the pressure of the dammed up words that so badly needed to spill forth.

  “Uh, uh, uh,” she admonished, wagging her finger at him. “You’ll get your chance at rebuttal in a moment, counselor.” He folded his arms and settled down.

  “I’ve thought about it, and I’ve got to tell you,” she continued, “there’s no way I can put up with that kind of attitude. I will make mistakes, and so will you, but we have to treat each other with respect, or our marriage is going to be miserable. Or not happen at all. Do you understand?”

  He dropped his eyes, and then looked back up at her.

  “Yes, I do Leigh. I know I was wrong, and I’m sorry, as I’ve told you all day,” he replied. He paused for a moment, his eyes beseeching her. Then he looked at her with a confused, anxious expression. “But I was just blown away that you were there watching… participating in those ....I don’t understand why you were there!”

  “We’ve already gone over that, Gene,” she sighed.

  “It still makes no sense to me. It’s not your style at all.” Not these days anyway, he thought. But it had been a few years ago, and the return of that Leigh was what he feared.

  “And what exactly is my style?” she inquired.

  “Well, for starters, you don’t normally, as a rule – although obviously here was an exception - hang out with the… blue collar crowd,” he replied. “And secondly, that skirt didn’t leave much to the imagination. When was the last time you wore that anyway? In college?”

  She looked at him through narrowed eyes.

  “It still fits,” she replied. “How did I look?”

  “Hot as ever,” he responded. “But you weren’t wearing it for me, were you?”

  Touché. She deserved that, but she knew he was wiggling out here. Maybe her flirting with Kyle had been a bit out of line for an engaged woman, but he knew nothing about it, just that she hadn’t communicated where she was going. That aside, they were still going to be married, and Gene’s increasingly dominant character had to be dealt with. If she folded here, he wouldn’t learn or change a thing.

  “I wore it because I can,” she replied, standing, “because I’m not sixteen and needing my daddy’s approval.” She picked up her pocketbook.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving,” she responded coldly. “This was a mistake. Big surprise.” She turned her back and went toward the door.

  “Leigh wait!” he implored. This was so not going right, not at all the way he had planned. He took the gift package off the mantle and walked toward the couch. She stopped and looked back at him expectantly.

  “What?”

  “I was wrong, period, no excuses,” he said. “I promise to change, okay?” He sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. “Please come over and sit down.”

  She stared at him, unbelieving.

  “Do you mean that?”

  “With all of my heart.”

  She was skeptical, but at least he was trying.

  “Okay,” she said finally, walking slowly toward him. “But no more defense arguments, alright?”

  “Agreed.”

  She sat beside him, but he kept the gift hidden by his side.

  “Before I do this, I want you to know how much I love you, and how sincere I am about giving you the respect and attention you deserve,” he said. He put his hand on top of hers. She didn’t resist the move, and he was relieved.

  “I didn’t mean to get that angry, or treat you badly,” he continued. “I hope you understand. The case is stressful, and I guess it’s making me edgy lately.”

  “I do understand that, Gene,” she replied. “You’re just your father’s son, right?” She grinned, and he, at first, didn’t realize she was being playful; but then he caught on, and laughed heartily.

  “That’s true!” he agreed, pointing at her. “No getting around that!” After the merriment died down, he stared at her for a moment in silence.

  “Leigh, we’re going to be married, and I want you to be my wife, more than anything else in this world,” he said sincerely. “I suppose I can’t blame you for looking for some fun, with me working all the time.” He smiled ruefully. “But I want to be the man you want. I’ll change. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.” He paused a moment, then produced the gift.

  “This is for you, honey,” he announced, holding the gift box out to her. She looked at it, then at him, her crystalline blue eyes meeting his. My god she is so beautiful, he thought. I hope this works! She tentatively took and opened the jewelry box, revealing a pair of dazzling two karat diamond earrings.

  “So what do you think?” he asked, watching her closely.

  She picked up her glass and took a big swallow of the champagne, closing her eyes briefly before sitting the glass back on the table.

  “They are absolutely gorgeous!” she exclaimed truthfully. She held them up, and the diamonds danced in the light. But as she was momentarily caught up in the rapture all women feel when presented with the precious gems, a voice suddenly spoke up in her mind, diminishing their sparkle. It was her mother’s voice from their conversation yesterday: “Money, a home, those things are nice. But if there is true love, it will live in a cave as easily as a mansion.” And on the heels of that thought came one of Kyle, a man without all of the things Gene possessed, yet full of confidence, and brimming with life.

  He leaned over and brushed her hair lovingly back from her neck.

  “I’m glad you like them,” he said. “Is it all good now?”

  She bit her bottom lip softly and sighed.

  “Yes,” she replied. “It is.”

  He scooted closer to her, and placed a finger on her chin, turning her face toward his. She allowed him, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw his love for her plainly, a love she had never doubted. But when his lips touched hers, she saw Kyle’s face in her mind’s eye. She fought the vision away as best she could and returned his kiss, putting her heart into the moment, apprec
iating her fiancé’s love. In each other’s arms, they drifted into the night, having vanquished the problems of the day.

  At least until tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 8

  On Thursday evening of the following week, Kyle sat alone in his apartment, working on writing the final chapters of an older, unfinished novel. He hadn’t been inspired by any new ideas lately, so he had gone through his files and dug one out which he had titled, The Fishing Trip. It was a wordy novel, more than three quarters done, and when he reread it, he had been surprised that he had lost interest and stopped so close to finishing. He tried to remember what had been going on at that point in his life that may have sidetracked him, but nothing stood out.

  The story centered around two men, one black, one white, who began to visit the same fishing hole, sitting on opposite sides of the creek, each Saturday morning. The story took place in the mid twentieth century, in a small town in the south. George Robinson and his family were the first black family to move to the town, and they faced bigotry and extreme prejudice from the exclusively white populace. The creek, a quarter mile walk through the woods from Joe Hammer’s home, had been his solitary retreat for several years, and the intrusion of his space and time by another man, much less a black one, was a matter of extreme frustration to Joe. He did not voice his displeasure that first Saturday – though he did cast some disproving glances in George’s direction - deciding to wait and see if it was a one- time thing. When Joe arrived at the fishing hole the next week, George was back, as he was every following Saturday. They fished in silence for several weeks, and with each passing week, Joe’s luck had gone steadily downhill. He enviously watched George reeling them in, and finally, one Saturday, he testily asked George, “What in hell are you doing to catch all those fish?”

  George’s magnanimous response endeared Joe to him, and from that point, the two men became unlikely friends. Joe was the owner of a large mill in town, and when a supervisory position came open, he hired George for the spot, based on his work experience. The move infuriated the town folk, but Joe was undeterred, despite pressure from the mayor, selectmen, and almost everyone one in positions of authority. When Joe learned that George had suffered harassment from his white subordinates, and was ultimately physically assaulted, he made the courageous decision to fire the guilty men, causing a major upheaval in the town.

  Kyle needed to be at work on something to motivate himself after his latest literary setback, and this particular story, he felt, was worthy of his energies. He had to stay busy writing; it was an exercise that kept him balanced. Not to mention he needed to submit something new to his agent pretty soon to keep that business relationship going.

  Writing also kept his mind from being constantly on Leigh, whom he had not spoken to or seen since the races on Summerville road a week ago. He’d fought the urge to call her several times after that night; he knew it was a sensitive time for her, fraught with confusing emotions, and it would probably be a mistake to be too aggressive. At this point, she could bolt and run as easily as fall completely in love with him. And although it was terribly hard to sit on his desire for her, he knew that if there was anything in her heart for him, absence would make it grow fonder. He could only imagine how her fiancé’ was lavishing her with attention, cajoling and buying his way back into her graces. He just had to be patient.

  As Kyle typed away, his cell rang. He looked at the caller I.D. display expecting it to be his mother, who had called every other day since he had left. She never failed in their conversations to express concern about her boy being “so far away from home.” He always did his best to assure her everything was fine, but he knew she would worry anyway. She was a mother, wasn’t she? It was in her job description. But the screen flashed the name “Rob.”

  “Hey Rob!” he answered cheerfully.

  “Hey bro!” he replied. “How’s everything in Charlotte? Haven’t heard from you in a few weeks!” Rob had been spending so much time with Carla that Kyle hadn’t heard from him for two months before he left Boonesville. But he didn’t bring that up.

  “I’ve just been settling in, you know?” Kyle replied.

  “Did you find a job?”

  “Yeah,” he responded. “I landed a job at a parts business a couple of weeks ago. It’s work. Keeps the cash flowing.”

  “Hear ya.”

  “And hey, you’ll dig this. I met a couple of guys that wanted to run against me, and we got it on last Friday night.”

  “Cool! So how did it go?” Rob inquired.

  “I won, at least the first round,” Kyle responded. “I had to show them how we do it in Tennessee, ya’ know?”

  “Don’t know why I asked,” Rob joked, “of course you won! I guess that means the Nova is in top form, huh?”

  “She’s running good,” Kyle replied. “We eliminated that first night, and now it’s down to me and this idiot named Wade. He’s got a bottle green Impala, ‘72 model.”

  “‘72 Impala? That’s a beast. Is he good?”

  “Apparently he’s top dog around here,” Kyle stated. “I just wish you and that Chevelle were here so we could really show these guys a thing or two!”

  “Well, as it turns out, you might get your wish,” Rob replied.

  “Come again?” Kyle had laid out two slices of bread on the counter, and was spreading peanut butter on one of them. He would add pickles and create one of his favorite sandwiches, the PB&P.

  “I broke up with Carla.”

  “You’re kidding!” Kyle responded with surprise, stopping in mid spread.

  “Nope.”

  “What happened?” She and Rob had dated for almost two years, and Rob had told him just six months ago that he was thinking of asking her to marry him.

  “Well, we had a few fights, some disagreements,” Rob explained.

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. And I started thinking about it, you know, the whole marriage thing, and I just got to the point where I couldn’t imagine it. It just wasn’t there,” he said. “I just finally realized she wasn’t the one.”

  “I bet she was pretty upset,” Kyle said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “She’s called me a couple of times, but I’m not going there again. I’m ready to move on.”

  “You’re a real heart-breaker, you know that?”

  “Me? That’s the pot calling the kettle black!” Rob exclaimed. “You’ve left too many hearts in the dust to count, my man!”

  “Just meeting my quota,” Kyle responded, placing pickles on top of the peanut butter. “So back up. What did you mean when you said, “I might get my wish?”

  “Well, there’s nothing around here for me now,” Rob replied. “I think I need a fresh start, too. What do you think the chances are of my getting a job where you are?”

  “Are you talking about moving here?”

  “Yes I am,” he affirmed. “That is, if Charlotte’s big enough for both of us!”

  “We’ll fit,” Kyle assured, laughing. “Man, this is great news!”

  “So what about the job?”

  “Well, I’m in pretty good with the Human Resources manager, so let me do some talking and see what’s available.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I should be able to find out something soon. So what about your current job?”

  “I’ve already talked to my boss about leaving, and he’s cool with it. He said he would write a referral letter for me.”

  “You’re a big loss for him,” Kyle opined. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “Dead serious. You’ve inspired me, my man.”

  “Well, I’ve got to get on the ball then!” Kyle responded, slapping the top slice of bread on.

  “One thing,” Rob asked. “This HR manager wouldn’t happen to be female and pretty, would she?”

  “Now whatever would give you that idea?” Rob laughed heartily.

  “Listen, give me a call and let me know, okay?”

  “We’ll do,” Ky
le said, and they hung up.

  He ate his sandwich, washing it down with a glass of milk, elated by the unexpected news that his best friend may be coming to Charlotte. He had to find a way see Leigh and do some talking for Rob. He then burrowed into his novel, typing away, with his hopes high again that this time it would be different; that this time, his work might be accepted.

  CHAPTER 9

  Wade was making a lot of noise this Friday morning, while Kyle was keeping busy and attempting to ignore his loud mouth. He attacked the boxes in front of him, piling them onto skids. Upon completing a skid, he would slap them and holler for “Pick up!” He was working industriously enough that the front end wasn’t able to keep pace. Behind him, Wade and Billy incessantly bragged that he didn’t stand a snowballs chance in hell, why bother showing up? If he had listened too closely to their braggadocio and believed all he heard, he would go out and set fire to his Nova, promptly lie down before Wade’s Impala, and allow himself to be run over by his Highness. He tuned out their seemingly endless rants. He did his talking at race time, and that was when he would answer Wade’s current round of predictions.

  It was Friday, payday, and the weekend was finally here. Everyone felt chipper, naturally, and Kyle himself was full of pep after his conversation with Rob last night. As he lifted and placed boxes, he thought of his mission today: to somehow see and talk to Leigh. She had come down at break that one time for a Dr. Pepper, but he hadn’t seen her since. Had she stopped drinking her mid-morning Pepper? Not likely. He guessed she had been coming down early to avoid him. He decided he would find out.