Following Rain

by Darrel Nelson

  Dropping the damp cloth, she spun on her heels and hurried upstairs.

  Rain came up beside him. “For some people it takes more than a piece of candy to build trust. Or to restore it.” When Paul looked at her quizzically, she added, “For some it takes a miracle. And sometimes the miracle happens.”

  Paul’s expression brightened and he continued making his way around the room, passing out the rest of the candy. Many thanked him, some shook his hand, and others took the candy silently, without making eye contact.

  An elderly man sat on a chair in the back corner of the room, holding a pocketknife in one hand and a small block of wood in the other. The figure of a unicorn was beginning to emerge from the wood. Shavings clung to the man’s shirt and hands. His skin was wrinkled and gave him the appearance of a carved Halloween jack-o’-lantern shriveled with age. But there was a light in his eyes that belied his withered appearance. He paused in his work and smiled when Paul offered him a candy. He popped it into his mouth, motioned with his hand as if tipping his hat, and continued carving.

  When everyone had received a piece of candy, Paul handed the bag back to Rain. “The candy was a hit,” he said.

  “I make sure to always have a bag in my drawer,” she replied.

  Paul glanced back at Jayden and watched as the little boy offered his wooden toy horse the candy before popping it into his own mouth and tittering. “He’s a cute little tyke,” Paul said. “Has he been here long?”

  “A week now. He arrived with his mother last Tuesday.”

  “A single mom?”

  Rain shook her head grimly. “No.”

  “What’s her story?”

  Rain pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, I can’t say. But it’s not a good one.”

  Paul glanced at Jayden, who was watching the television intently. Jayden looked at him and winked, giggling softly.

  After winking in reply, Paul turned back toward Rain. “Will he and his mother be staying long?”

  “It’s hard to say. My guess is no. She’s afraid to remain in one place too long.” She lowered her voice. “It can be depressing if you let it get to you. I’ve learned to take it one day at a time, moment by moment. And this moment is a good one. You’ve made everyone’s day.”

  Paul surveyed the room. At length he said, “The old guy who’s doing the wood carving. Did he make the animal figures that the children are holding?”

  “Yes. He makes one for every child who comes here. The unicorn he’s making is for a little girl who just arrived last night. It’s his way of saying welcome.”

  Rain saw something change in Paul’s countenance. It was only a little change, but a change nonetheless. Perhaps he now realized what she had come to learn. A simple gesture of giving something as small as a piece of candy or a crudely carved animal figure could make a big difference in someone’s life. There was power in sharing.

  Maria joined them moments later. “I have a little time before my next appointment. I hope the interview and your visit have been helpful. Is there any other information you require?”

  “No, I think I have everything I need.”

  “So we’ll be seeing you in a couple of days, then?”

  Paul nodded. “I’ll come back the day after tomorrow with a cameraman and tape a few segments. Would ten o’clock be okay?”

  “Wonderful. Goodbye, Mr. Blakely,” Maria said, extending her hand. “We’ll see you then.”

  “Bye,” Paul said, shaking her outstretched hand. “And thanks again.”

  Paul then shook Rain’s hand briskly. “Thanks for the tour.”

  Allowing herself to smile, Rain replied, “You’re welcome.”

  During the tour, she had warmed up to him. He seemed genuine and sincere enough. And he was going to help promote the fundraiser.

  He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else but then simply turned and walked away.

  As she watched him leave, Maria put an arm around Rain. “That seemed to go well.”

  “I’m glad I was able to show him around. He saw what he needed to see.”

  Maria looked at her quizzically. “And that is?”

  “That homeless people are still . . . people.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Paul sat at his laptop later that afternoon, studying the Noxby Medical Center’s webpage. He wanted some background information on the facility, but his mind kept wandering. He couldn’t stop thinking about his visit to the homeless shelter. It had turned out differently than he had expected.

  He had a certain routine he usually followed when preparing a feature. He went in, asked questions, and then returned to the station to put it all together. Today’s visit had been far from routine, however. He had met many of the clients and interacted with them. The candy incident had particularly touched him. The simple act of dispensing small pieces of candy had made a big impact.

  His thoughts turned to the young woman who had shown him around—Rain. He had never met anyone like her. Distant and yet warm. Closed and yet open. Aloof and yet caring. There were enough contradictions to keep him intrigued.

  He thought he knew where he stood with women, particularly the ones he dated. They either came on to him or they made it clear they were only interested in having a good time, no strings attached. They were often forward and opinionated or, occasionally, fawning and star-struck because of his prominence and reputation. Either way, they wore their intentions and expectations like jewelry.

  But Rain was different. She was private and as inscrutable as a well-written mystery. He had sensed it the moment they met. She was impervious to his charm, and what was that all about? Is that what was bothering him the most—that he’d barely been able to tease a smile from her? Where did you even start with someone like that, anyway? He turned the questions over in his mind to no avail.

  He glanced at the time. 3:30 P.M. He had a telephone interview at 5:00 P.M. with a professor from the university who had agreed to discuss the impact of single-cup coffee makers on the environment. That still gave him time to compile the questions he wanted to ask Kaz Hirotoma. It had been a hectic day so far, but this was the rule rather than the exception.

  Susan Townsend stepped into his cubicle a moment later. He looked at her in surprise because she never visited him here. Meetings always occurred in her office . . . on her turf.

  “Thank you for taking care of the interview with Maria,” she said.

  “No problem,” he replied. “The feature will be ready early next week.”

  Susan nodded curtly. “Maria just sent me an e-mail to express her appreciation for our support of their upcoming fundraiser. She was particularly complimentary about you.”

  Paul was unable to suppress a smile. “Really?”

  “She was impressed with the interview you conducted and with your interest in the homeless shelter.”

  His smile remained in place although he felt something tug at his insides. He was grateful that his veneer of professionalism had masked how he truly felt about the assignment. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Seems like I picked the right person to go in Jennifer’s place. I like positive feedback.” She turned to leave and then asked, “How’s the coffee-maker feature shaping up?”

  Paul gave her a thumbs-up. “It’s coming together nicely. I’ve got a phone interview set up for five o’clock.”

  She tilted her head, obviously pleased with how things were progressing, but her expression remained unchanged. Smiles from her were rare. “Again, thanks for handling the homeless shelter interview.”

  He watched her walk away, pleased with their conversation. This was the first compliment he’d received from her in a while. And although he had recently done some successful features and was making good progress on the single-cup coffee maker story, it was the interview at the homeless shelter that elicited her appreciation. This business never ceased to amaze him.

  CHAPTER 6

  Rain quietly opened Charlie’s bedroom door Wednesday morning
and glanced at the figure buried beneath the covers. Crossing to the window, she parted the curtains and undid the latch, turning the hand crank enough to admit some fresh air. The sounds of morning traffic welcomed her to a new day. She caught the familiar odors from the bakery down the street and realized she was hungry.

  A light fog had rolled in from Puget Sound during the night and it looked like it was shaping up to be another grey day. There hadn’t been any precipitation in two months, even though the sky promised it, and she longed for a break in the dry spell. Strange to think Seattle has a reputation for always being rainy, she mused.

  Staring out the third-floor window, she watched the world begin its morning rush. Everyone was headed somewhere to do something for somebody. They had places to go. Including her.

  She had been in the workforce since she was eighteen and understood all too well the necessity of having to earn her way. There was no free ride. No free meal tickets. She had been employed as a waitress, a salesclerk, and a cook in a fast food joint before finding employment at Welcoming Hands two years ago, doing secretarial work halftime and supervising some of the housecleaning duties the other half.

  She drew in a deep breath and then went to the dresser at the foot of the bed. After opening the top drawer, she took out a pair of white socks, which she unfolded and laid on the edge of the bed, side by side, not bunched together. That was important. They had to be plainly visible and they had to be white.

  She opened the second drawer and removed a folded T-shirt. After smoothing out the wrinkles, she placed it beside the socks.

  Next she opened the third drawer and took out a pair of blue jeans, which she laid beside the other items of clothing. Finally, she grabbed the pair of running shoes from the closet and placed them at the foot of the bed, near the blue jeans.

  When everything was ready, she reached toward the sleeping figure. Gently shaking him, she whispered, “Time to get up, Charlie. It’s seven o’clock. Rise and shine.”

  She kept her voice soft and even. Anything above a whisper would awaken him with the intensity of a blaring digital alarm and he would spring up in bed, wide-eyed and frightened. Then it would take several minutes to calm him down.

  “Charlie,” she whispered again, slightly increasing the pressure on his shoulder. “I’ve got your clothes ready.”

  Charlie opened one eye and peered out from under the covers. “White socks?”

  “Yes.”

  He drew the covers back enough to expose his head to the morning light. His hair was disheveled, and the stubble on his chin resembled a bottlebrush. His gaze wandered to the edge of the bed, to the white socks.

  “Can I leave you to get dressed while I get breakfast ready?” Rain inquired, backing toward the door.

  “Are my shoes . . .?” Charlie glanced at the floor. “Oh, never mind. I see them. They’re right there.”

  “Hurry, okay? We’ve got to be to work in forty minutes.”

  Charlie sat up and scratched himself. “Do I get to wash dishes today? I like using the sprayer.”

  “You’ll get to use it. And you’ll get to sweep the floor, too.”

  “With the wide broom? It’s the best one.”

  Rain nodded. “Just hurry, Charlie. And remember to shave this morning. You forgot yesterday. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.”

  She went into the kitchen and set two places at the table. Then she got three boxes of cereal from the cupboard and a carton of milk from the refrigerator. The Cap’n Crunch and Froot Loops were for Charlie because they were sugary, and he liked to have a choice. The Special K was for her. She heard the sound of the electric razor and glanced up at the clock. Their morning routine was still on schedule. Nodding in satisfaction, she made two slices of toast and put one beside each bowl, setting a jar of peanut butter and grape jelly—Charlie’s favorite—beside his toast. Then she went to look in on him.

  Charlie was sitting on the edge of the bed, fastening the Velcro straps on his shoes. He stood up and rocked back and forth as if testing the comfort. Satisfied, he rolled up the legs of his blue jeans one turn so his socks were visible.

  “Come into the kitchen now, Charlie. Let’s eat.”

  “Cap’n Crunch?”

  “Or Froot Loops. Your choice.”

  He put on his pirate accent and said, “I’ll be having Cap’n Crunch today, me hearty.”

  They sat at the table and ate quietly. This was usually how the breakfast routine began. Sometimes, however, Charlie would interrupt the meal by taking a big spoonful of food and opening his mouth wide in an effort to get a reaction from her. On those occasions she’d gently remind him of the rules of etiquette. He’d return to his meal and eat quietly for a few minutes, occasionally looking at her to see if she was upset with him.

  “About done, Charlie?” she asked, taking her bowl to the sink and rinsing it under the tap.

  Charlie took a hurried mouthful and milk dribbled down his chin. When he answered her, food flew out of his mouth and splatted on the table. “Oops,” he mumbled, picking up the gobs of mushy cereal and stuffing them back in his mouth. “Sorry.” He looked at Rain apologetically.

  “It’s okay, Charlie,” she said, grabbing a dishcloth and wiping the table. “Chew your food carefully.” But quickly, she wanted to add but didn’t. If she put too much pressure on him, he’d become frustrated and try to finish the rest of his cereal in one gulp. Then he’d choke and scatter more food. She had learned this the hard way.

  As Rain did the breakfast dishes, Charlie finished and pushed away from the table. “There, all done,” he said, belching loudly.

  Rain sighed. “Remember what we talked about? It’s not polite to make that sound.”

  His eyes widened in remembrance. “Just like we shouldn’t make that sound at the other end, either. Right?”

  Willing herself not to smile, Rain said, “Right. Now brush your teeth but don’t take too long this morning.”

  Charlie was compulsive about some things and could brush his teeth for five minutes straight. “Okay,” he said.

  “Hurry. You don’t want to miss spraying the breakfast dishes, do you?”

  He shook his head determinedly and rushed into the bathroom, emerging a short time later with toothpaste coating the side of his mouth.

  Rain grabbed a tissue and wiped his face. Then before leaving, she checked the apartment to make sure the lights were turned off. “We’ve only got a minute to catch the bus,” she said as she escorted him out the door and locked it.

  Holding out a foot, he said, “I’ve got running shoes on. Let’s run!”

  He raced down the hallway and headed for the stairs. Rain followed closely so he didn’t get too big of a lead. Sometimes when he emerged from the apartment complex, he got turned around in the fog and headed the wrong way.

  An articulated city bus lumbered around the corner moments later and approached, honking at a car occupying the bus lane.

  Charlie stepped forward and waited, his toes lined up exactly with the edge of the curb. When the bus stopped and the doors opened, he climbed the stairs and greeted the driver cheerfully. “Good morning. I’m wearing white socks.

  The driver glanced at Charlie’s feet. “Uh-huh.”

  “Let’s sit down, Charlie,” Rain said, directing him to a seat.

  The driver closed the door and eased the bus away from the curb.

  Rain stared out of the window, watching the traffic and the pedestrians. She enjoyed the commute to work, even though it was taxing just to get out the door in the mornings. The sights and sounds of the city were invigorating. Even Charlie enjoyed the variety it provided to their daily routine. He grinned and talked to himself as the city scenery unfolded before him. And he always laughed in delight when they passed the Space Needle. He brought it to Rain’s attention like they were seeing it for the first time. His enthusiasm was infectious and she always found herself smiling at this point in their commute.

  The responsibilities of caring
for Charlie were demanding. But they were offset by the way his infectious, childlike joy and wonder helped lift the cares of the world that sometimes threatened to overwhelm her. And just when she found herself feeling the pressure, Charlie would chortle in delight and draw some small thing to her attention that she, in her headlong rush to get to work on time, had failed to notice. And she loved him for it.

  CHAPTER 7

  As Paul drove to his appointment with Kaz Hirotoma, he reviewed the questions he had prepared. He then let his thoughts drift to the interview he had conducted with Maria Sanchez. He had been more casual about it with her because he had no vested interest in the results. And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about his experience at the homeless shelter. What was there about it that had made such an impression?

  His investigations had taken him to various locations around the world. He had seen people living lives that were reduced to the lowest common denominator possible. Scraps for food, rags for clothing, a cardboard box for shelter—lives so stark that anything beyond these basics was a luxury. He had witnessed the cruelty of poverty.

  But it had always been from a distance, viewed through the eyes of a reporter. It was like watching a graphic documentary. He connected with it emotionally during the viewing, but then disconnected once he returned to the comforts and conveniences of his nicely furnished apartment.

  His visit to the homeless shelter had been an up-close-and-personal experience. Rain had not allowed him to be a mere spectator. She had involved him interactively and helped him see the people behind the face of homelessness. She had humanized the guests, allowing him to see them as more than mere statistics representing the number of people who didn’t have a home to go to that day.

  Now, as he pulled into the driveway of the Hirotoma’s elegant home, he shook his head in an effort to clear his brain.

  Kaz greeted him at the door. He was of Japanese decent, thin, greying at the temples, and was in his early fifties. He shook Paul’s hand warmly and conducted him into the study, a large room lined with oak bookshelves. Moments later Kaz’s wife, Sumi, arrived with two glasses of iced green tea and several slices of coffee cake on a bamboo tray. She placed them on the coffee table and then gave Paul a hug.