Following Rain

by Darrel Nelson

  Rain placed a hand sympathetically on his arm.

  Her touch felt warm and comforting, and Paul appreciated the gesture. “My parents have spent a fortune trying to find a cure but, sadly, there isn’t one. So she copes with it and stays busy. Currently, she does volunteer work with the Make-A-Wish Foundation and does what she can to make a difference in the lives of others, especially little kids.”

  “She sounds so strong.”

  “She is. And she encourages Dad to contribute generously to humanitarian causes and to medical research.”

  “You’re lucky to have such good parents.”

  “I didn’t used to think so, but I can see it now. They were determined to use their money wisely and not overindulge my siblings and me. They made us do chores around the house to earn our allowance. I even had to get a newspaper route as a kid to supplement it. When I got older, I worked as a lifeguard in the summers. My parents had established a trust fund to put us through college, but we had to earn what Dad called the leg-up activation fee.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The trust fund was established to give us a leg up in life. But in order to claim it, we had to earn five thousand dollars of our own to activate it. I put all my lifeguarding money in the bank, and by the time I finished high school, I had saved enough to access the fund and go to college to study journalism. I wanted to be a novelist and write mysteries actually, but a friend who worked at KNEX-TV convinced me to look into becoming an investigative TV reporter and to get involved in real-life mysteries. I was able to find a job at the station and I’m glad I did. I discovered that I love digging beneath the surface, unearthing skeletons, and rattling them in the public eye.”

  “That’s very literary, Mr. Blakely.”

  “Thanks.”

  A woman, walking her poodle, crossed the street ahead, and Paul stopped to let them by. When he resumed driving, he looked over at Rain. “Well, enough about me. What about you? Where did you grow up?”

  Rain’s expression suddenly tightened. Somewhere Paul heard a door close and a deadbolt slide into place. “Nowhere like this,” she murmured.

  “So where was it?”

  She sighed and looked over at him. “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?” He feigned innocence but knew full well what she meant.

  “Investigating.”

  He shrugged casually. “It’s just a simple question.”

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  He scowled good-naturedly. “So I tell you all about my upbringing, but you won’t tell me anything about yours? What kind of deal is that?

  “It’s not a deal. You volunteered the information.”

  “Fair enough. I won’t pry. You know me,” he said, managing to tease a smile from her.

  Moments later he turned onto a paved driveway that appeared in a gap in the thick hedge. They proceeded up the curved road and approached the house, where a Mercedes Benz was already parked.

  Rain exhaled audibly as she looked at the house.

  It was a sprawling brick and wood structure three stories tall. An expansive balcony, supported by white columns, spanned its width. A sitting area was located at the far left end, and an elegant turret rose above it. Several gables, each featuring a decorative design, added character to the roofline, and red brick chimneys pierced the copper roof in three locations. A wide sidewalk led to the columned porch above the front door. The door itself was dark oak, with brass hinges.

  Rain flipped down the sun visor and looked at herself in the mirror. She tightened her ponytail and ran a finger across her eyebrows. After getting out of the car, she tugged at her jeans and smoothed down her shirt.

  “You look fine,” Paul said. “Nothing to be nervous about.”

  “Easy for you to say. I didn’t have a chance to change or put on any makeup. I never expected to—”

  “It’ll be okay. Trust me.”

  Her eyes widened in concern. “What am I going to say to them? How much detail do they want? What if they don’t like me? What if—”

  “What if we just go inside?” He held out his arm and escorted her up the front stone steps, aware that she was beginning to breathe faster.

  CHAPTER 18

  Although the exterior of the house was magnificent, Rain thought the interior was even more stunning. Open and airy, the entrance resembled the foyer of a grand hotel. A wide stairway lined with an oak handrail ascended to the next level, where a balcony curved around the circumference of the two-story foyer. An ornate crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and captured the light from the large window above the front door, casting miniature rainbows on the walls. Dark hardwood flooring ran throughout the lower level, and matching trim outlined every window and doorway.

  A woman in a wheelchair suddenly emerged from the living room and crossed toward them. Rain felt her pulse quicken, and she began anxiously reviewing the order in which she wanted to explain the details for the Super Saturday fundraiser.

  “Hello, hello,” said the woman, leaning forward so Paul could kiss her on the cheek. And in answer to his unspoken question, she added, “I’m just a little tired today, that’s all.”

  Paul scowled gently. “You’ve been taking on too much. You need to—”

  “—meet this young lady,” the woman said, looking expectantly at Rain.

  Rain’s thoughts suddenly became jumbled and she lost track of the order of the details.

  “Mom, this is Rain McKenzie,” Paul said, motioning toward Rain.

  Extending her hand, Pricilla said, “What a pretty name. It’s so nice to meet you, Rain. Paul has told us all about you.”

  Paul coughed guiltily. “Rain, this is my mom, Pricilla Blakely.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Blakely,” Rain said, taking her hand.

  “Mrs. Blakely makes me sound so old. Please, call me Pricilla.”

  Rain released the handclasp, interlocking her fingers and staring admiringly at the interior. “I love your home.”

  “Thank you. Although I must say that it’s too big for us now that our children have grown up and moved out. But I suppose once we have grandchildren”—she prodded Paul with a finger—“it won’t seem so empty.”

  Paul chuckled and bent down to kiss her on the cheek again.

  It made Rain think that perhaps he and his mother had had this conversation before. Was Paul married? She didn’t think so because he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Did he have a girlfriend? She didn’t know and certainly wasn’t going to ask.

  “The others are in the study,” Pricilla said, patting Rain’s hand. “Are you ready to meet them?”

  Making a conscious effort not to swallow, Rain nodded.

  “Good, this way then.” Pricilla wheeled across the foyer.

  Rain tried to fall in behind Paul, but he motioned for her to go first. So she followed Pricilla into the spacious study, where a large billiard table occupied the center of the room. Two men, pool cues in hand, stood at the far end of the table. One of the men had a beard and wore thick glasses. The other was Oriental, slight in build, with grey streaks in his hair.

  “This is Rain McKenzie,” Pricilla announced.

  The man with the beard leaned his cue against the table and approached her. “Nice to meet you. I’m Stan Blakely, Paul’s dad, and”—he nodded toward Pricilla—“the man this lovely woman has to put up with every day.”

  “Don’t let him tease you,” Pricilla said, waving her hand dismissively.

  “Actually, I think Dad has a point,” Paul said, maintaining a straight face.

  Stan chuckled and looped his arm through Rain’s, walking her toward the other man. “This is one of my associates, Kaz Hirotoma.”

  Kaz bowed slightly and shook her hand.

  “Kaz is the man who contacted me about the Noxby Medical Center scandal,” Paul said for Rain’s benefit. “You probably heard about it on the news.”

  Rain shook her head hesitantly. “No, I didn�
��t. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Kaz said. “But there are several people who should be.” He turned and looked at Paul. “Frank Tolley for one. His illustrious career is over.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Paul replied.

  “As are we all,” Stan said.

  “We’ll let the police recover what money they can, if any, and then reassess things,” Kaz added. “The medical center needs an MRI machine.”

  Stan murmured in agreement and then escorted Rain to the billiard table. “We were just about to play a game of Eight Ball. Would you and Paul like to join us?”

  Rain hesitated. “I’ve never played before.”

  “All the better. That way I can teach you how it’s done properly. You won’t have any bad habits to break.” He paused and looked at her closely. “You don’t have any bad habits, do you?”

  When Rain began to sputter a response, Pricilla laughed lightly and said, “He’s only teasing.”

  “You have to learn to take Stan Blakely with a grain of salt,” Kaz said, retrieving the balls from the pockets.

  “He’s an acquired taste,” Paul added.

  Grinning in response, Stan handed a pool cue to Rain. “Like I was saying, I’ll teach you properly and then maybe”—he motioned toward the others—“you and I can find some real competition around here.”

  “That sounds like a challenge, Kaz,” Paul said. “Should we take them up on it?”

  “I’m always up for a challenge,” Kaz replied.

  “Good,” Stan said. “Just give me a few minutes with my protégé to work my magic, and then it’s game on.” He handed a pool cue to Rain.

  Rain looked helplessly at Paul, who wore a bemused expression, and then complied as Stan showed her how to balance the cue and explained the rules of the game.

  His instructions blurred into a list of dos and don’ts. Her head was spinning by the time he finished and said, “Okay, take a practice shot.”

  Rain felt her hands tremble as she sighted down her cue. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, but she forced herself to focus. Letting out her breath and trying to relax, she hit the cue ball solidly. It rolled forward and hit a striped ball, which then headed for the pocket. But the striped ball bounced off the left edge of the cushion and stayed out.

  “Close enough,” said Stan. “I think we’re ready to take on the challengers.”

  Despite Rain’s facial protest, the game got underway. Pricilla positioned herself so she could watch, offering an encouraging comment. Paul broke and then cheered as the balls scattered across the table and a solid-colored ball dropped into the corner pocket.

  “Fluky shot!” Stan taunted. He turned and looked at Rain. “They’re solids. That means we’re stripes. We have to sink all the striped balls before they sink the solid-colored ones. Then the first team to sink the eight ball—that’s the black one—wins.”

  “And it shouldn’t take long,” Paul said. He lined up his next shot and groaned when the ball didn’t drop.

  The game continued and an easy conversation unfolded, covering a wide range of topics. Both teams dropped shots at intervals, and the game remained fairly close. Kaz talked about a trip to Japan that he and his wife were planning, and Pricilla shared some ideas about what she had in mind for redecorating the study, which prompted a few grunts from Stan. Paul told about the missing boa constrictor now feared to be in the sewers. This steered the conversation toward the unusual, and for a while it resembled a discussion of Ripley’s Believe or Not.

  While Stan took his turn, Kaz nudged Rain and asked, “So what kind of success rate does the homeless shelter have in helping people find jobs?”

  Surprised at the suddenness of the question, especially since they were currently talking about an incident involving a runaway circus elephant in New York, Rain said, “Last month we helped six guests—four men and two women—find work. They attended our workshops and were taught how to make a resume and prepare for a job interview. We helped them mail their resumes and were delighted when all six guests found jobs.”

  “Are they still living at the shelter?”

  “Temporarily. They need time to save up for rent and utilities. We have an arrangement with a corporation that owns several apartment complexes throughout the city. The closer the guests can be to their work, the better. It saves on transit costs and makes life easier for them. But along with that, we work to make certain they get health and dental care and ongoing support while we help them find permanent housing.”

  The conversation veered briefly to another topic before Stan asked, “What would you say makes Welcoming Hands unique from the other shelters in the city?”

  Without hesitation, Rain answered, “Maria Sanchez. She’s the director.”

  “What’s so special about her?”

  This time Rain paused, considering her reply in order to do it justice. “She’s an amazing person and genuinely loves the people at the shelter. She is committed to helping everyone, and she has made a big difference in their lives.”

  “How has she helped you?” Kaz inquired.

  “Hey, it’s your shot, partner,” Paul said before Rain could answer. “They’re two up on us so let’s make our move.”

  Kaz cut Paul a quick glance and nodded. “You got it.”

  Rain noticed the slight smile from Paul before he turned to cheer on his partner. She wasn’t certain, but was he running interference for her? She felt a tingly sensation in the pit of her stomach as she considered it.

  Moments later Kaz sank his next shot, pulling Paul and him to within one. Paul pumped his fist and then steered the conversation to the weather and the unusually dry summer Seattle was experiencing. Everyone had a comment to make, and Rain found herself breathing easier.

  When Paul sank his team’s last solid-colored ball, Stan leaned over to her and whispered, “We’re all tied up. Now it’s a race to see who can sink the eight ball.”

  “The race is about to end,” Paul said, lining up his shot.

  “If he makes this, they win,” Stan explained. Then in a louder voice, he added, “But he always chokes on the last shot, so don’t worry.”

  Paul had a straight-in shot, and it seemed like he couldn’t miss. But miss he did. The eight ball bounced off the cushion on both sides of the pocket and stayed out. The cue ball rolled off slightly to the side and stopped ten inches away.

  “What did I tell you?” Stan said smugly.

  “You jinxed me, that’s what you did,” Paul protested.

  Stan motioned toward the table. “It’s your turn, Rain. Just sink the eight ball and it’s game over. But make sure the cue ball doesn’t follow it into the pocket. You have to just kiss the eight ball so the cue ball rolls away. Okay?”

  “You can do it, Rain,” Pricilla said.

  “Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?” Paul said, hiding a grin.

  Pricilla shrugged mysteriously.

  Rain sighted down her cue stick once again, glancing from the cue ball to the eight ball and back again several times. Then she let out her breath and struck the cue ball. It rolled forward and hit the eight ball on the outer edge. The eight ball dropped into the pocket with a gentle thud.

  Stan roared in celebration and gave Rain a high-five. Pricilla clapped her hands, and even Kaz looked pleased.

  Rain was unable to hide a sense of satisfaction. But when she looked at Paul, a sudden doubt crossed her mind. “You didn’t miss on purpose, did you?”

  Paul held up his hands defensively. “Hey, I play for keeps.”

  She eyed him suspiciously a moment longer, still uncertain.

  “Let’s leave the men to practice some more, Rain,” Pricilla said. “I want to show you the flower garden out back. Do you mind pushing me? It will speed up the tour.”

  Rain gripped the wheelchair and pushed Pricilla toward the patio doors. When they emerged into the backyard, Rain gasped. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that the yard was as magnificent as the rest of the house, but
it still impressed her to see the manicured lawn and the beautiful flower garden that surrounded the perimeter of the yard on three sides. “It’s so beautiful,” she said. “Everything about your home is beautiful. You are so fortu—” She caught herself before she could finish saying fortunate. That was not the thing to say to someone with multiple sclerosis. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “But I am fortunate,” Pricilla said, reaching back and patting her hand. “Very fortunate. And I think the people at the homeless shelter are fortunate, too. They have Maria. And you.”

  Rain momentarily stopped pushing the wheelchair.

  “You were very complimentary of Maria,” Pricilla continued. “But Paul told us about how hard you have worked to find sponsors. The phone calls. The e-mails. That tells me that you care about the people at the shelter, too.”

  Rain began pushing the wheelchair again, following the curved pathway as it wound through the backyard. “I do care,” she said. “You only have to meet them and get to know them to see how special and unique they are. We’ve been able to help so many find jobs, as I said. Some families have been reunited; others have been able to escape abusive relationships and start over. That’s why we have to keep our program running.”

  They conversed longer, traversing the entire backyard. The conversation turned to a discussion of the flower garden, and Pricilla described each variety of flower and how one complimented the other. At length the conversation returned to the homeless shelter, and she asked about the condition of the physical facilities. Rain gave a detailed summary of needed improvements.

  When she finished, they headed back to the study. As Rain pushed the wheelchair through the patio doors, she noticed Pricilla nod at her husband and then at Kaz.

  With that, Kaz put his cue in the rack. “Well, I need to be going. Sumi and I have tickets to the Seattle Symphony tonight.” He extended his hand to Rain. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” He then kissed Pricilla on the cheek.

  As Stan led him out of the study, Rain glanced questioningly at Paul and Pricilla. “I didn’t have a chance to say anything about the fundraiser.”