Running Out of Rain

by Lori Leger

  She met her at the door and wrapped her in a hug. “Good to know, because I had my doubts for a while there, baby girl. We’ve both got good men out there, and in case you’re wondering, I plan on taking my own advice when I get mine back to our hotel room. You’d better get accustomed to the idea, and fast.”

  Trini made her classic TMI face. “Ew. Still my mom. Don’t want to think about it.” She took a step toward the door and turned back. “But, I have to admit, Mr. John’s kinda hot for an older guy.”

  Deciding not to remind her daughter they were the same age, she nodded. “Yes. He certainly is.” They left the room together, each making a bee line for their own men.

  Three hours later, the party was still going strong. Out on the dance floor again, Cynthia tucked her face into John’s neck and took a deep breath, savoring the masculine smell of his cologne tinged with the aroma of dance hall and beer.

  Tyler spoke up from beside them. “Get a room you two, would you?”

  Cynthia lifted her head. “It doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I’m exhausted.”

  Jessie added her laughter to Tyler’s. “I don’t think he was talking to you.”

  “Nope,” Tyler confirmed. “I’m talking to Trini and Mick. They’re about to do the nasty on the dance floor.” He raised his voice to insure the other couple heard. “Hey, the rest of us think it’s kind of disgusting what you two are doing over there. Just go, would you?”

  Trini grabbed Mick’s hand, shooting her brother a grin. “Actually, that’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all night.” She winked at Cynthia. “Well, almost the best,” she added, before giving her a quick hug. “Thanks Mom, and I’m sorry.”

  Cynthia lifted her knee, slid it higher along the muscular thigh belonging to the man in her bed. She released a deep sigh and curled into his chest. His arm tightened around her shoulder to pull her closer. She smiled, thinking the only thing better than falling asleep wrapped in this man’s arms, was waking up the same way.

  “Mm … morning Cyn.”

  Keeping her head flat on his broad chest to spare him from morning breath, she answered. “Good morning, John Michael. Are you stiff?” His silence had her rephrasing the question. “I mean your shoulders … you know … from holding me all night?”

  “Oh. A little there, actually.” His hand lowered to a spot under the covers. “But here … significantly more.” He lifted his head. “Seems like a waste not to make good use of it.”

  She grinned at his comment. “A shameful waste. No sense throwing away a perfect opportunity.”

  “Yep.”

  “If I go brush my teeth, will it wait?”

  He sucked in his breath. “Absolutely.”

  Cynthia rolled out of bed, thankful for the hotel’s room-darkening drapes. Facing the bathroom mirror, she cringed at her bed head and used her fingers to fluff out her hair. Closer examination had her using a lotion dampened tissue to wipe the mascara from under her eyes.

  John Michael’s reflection appeared suddenly—gloriously, unabashedly naked, and owning his erection like a badge of honor. He approached her from behind, resting himself against her back to send a chill through her. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Hey, there.”

  John nodded and grabbed the small bottle of mouthwash provided by the hotel. He cracked the seal, poured half into his mouth and handed her the bottle.

  “Great idea.” She chugged the rest of it, joined him in swishing the stuff in her mouth for several seconds before spitting into separate sinks.

  Immediately, he pulled her close and kissed her, all the while backing her up slowly to the bed. “I’m sorry. I can’t wait,” he whispered, cupping her breasts gently.

  She gasped at how his touch awakened her need for him. “What took you so long?” His sexy grin lit her up. She turned him, pushed him down on the bed and crawled on top of him, grinning. “Let’s change things up a bit, shall we?”

  His eyes widened at her forcefulness. But as she lowered herself onto him, he sighed, and a slow grin spread across his handsome face. “Well, all right, then.”

  The cook-out at Jeremy and Lena’s place was in full swing by the time John Michael found himself alone in the kitchen. He and Cynthia had started the clean-up process when Grammy duty had called. She’d abandoned him, with his blessing of course, to put Zoe down for her afternoon nap.

  He opened several cabinets before finding the one containing baking pans, slid the clean one in with the others.

  “Need some help in here?”

  He turned to find Trini standing shyly in the doorway. “I’ve about got it, but I certainly don’t mind the company.” He pointed to the hallway. “If you’re looking for your mom, she went to put Zoe down for her nap.”

  “I-I was looking for you, actually.”

  He stopped what he was doing to give her his full attention.

  “I wanted to apologize again for what I said, what I did last night.” She shook her head brusquely. “I was so rude to you, Mr. John.”

  He raised one palm to stop her. “If all’s well between you and your mom, the rest isn’t necessary.”

  She stepped forward. “It is. Mom was right when she said I acted like a spoiled brat. My dad did spoil me. I always got away with so much more than the boys. I knew it even then.” She shrugged. “I liked it, what can I say?”

  John had to smile at her honesty. “Well, sure. Who wouldn’t?”

  “But that doesn’t make it right. When Dad died, that whole younger woman situation, God, it was so humiliating to all of us. I guess it was easier to blame Mom than to face facts.”

  “He left all of you with a hell of a mess, didn’t he?”

  “My hero, my daddy, did something despicable to us, to Mom. Jesus, she handled it with such grace …” Trini shivered. “I would have lost my mind in the same situation, at the very least scratched little Miss Tamara’s eyes right out of her head.”

  “Your mom’s one tough lady, Trini, but she did have to deal with some issues before we could be a couple.”

  Her brow furrowed. “She did mention that. I have to admit, it surprised me. I really thought she had it all together.”

  John leaned his hips against the granite counter top and crossed his arms. “I will tell you this, though. It’s just between you and me,” he said, wagging his finger between the two of them.

  Trini perked up, giving him her undivided attention.

  “She wasn’t quite as ‘gracious’ as you all seem to think she was. I know for a fact that when she and Tamara were behind closed doors, your mom slapped her.”

  Her mouth dropped in undisguised awe. “Did she really?”

  He took the time to fold the dishtowel before answering. “Then she threatened her with a restraining order.”

  Trini nodded thoughtfully, as though she were playing out the scene in her mind. “Way to go Mom. Do you know what brought it on?”

  He gave her a slow nod. “I do, and I think it was warranted, but I won’t say. I think you should ask her. It might help you to work through some issues if you know the entire truth. The same goes for your brothers.”

  “But, what if she doesn’t want to talk about it?”

  “The worst that can happen is she’ll say no.”

  Trini bit her bottom lip as she considered his words. She met his gaze and gave him a half smile. “You’re pretty cool, Mr. John. You plan on sticking around for a while?”

  He tried not to laugh at the obvious. “Are you asking if my intentions toward your mother are honorable?”

  She sobered suddenly. “Are they? I don’t want to see her hurt …” Her gaze dropped to her shoes.

  “Again?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. My dad hurt her so badly. Even though she tried to cover it up with anger, I could see through that. Mom was so calm and collected throughout the rest of the wake. She didn’t even cry for the burial at the cemetery, but she must have been devastated.”

  He pushed himself away from the counter
and stood straight. “I believe she’s worked through it. As for me, I will never do anything like that to hurt your mother.” He placed his hand over his heart. “She filled a void when she came back into my life.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you going to be my step-dad one day?”

  His laughter rang out. “I sure as hell hope so.”

  Cynthia stepped into the kitchen, slightly out of breath. “Zoe must have been exhausted. She’s out like a light.” She paused, her gaze jumping from him to her daughter. “What are you two talking about in here?”

  He reached for her, pulled her into his arms, her back to his front and facing Trini. “We were talking about you, and how you look more beautiful every day.” He winked conspiratorially at her daughter.

  “That’s right, Mom. I was about to go all Billy Currington on Mr. John here, telling him he must be doing something right, judging from the smile on your face.” She stepped toward her mother. “Seriously, you look radiant, and if this man has anything to do with it, I can’t help but approve of … well, whatever this is between you.”

  John Michael smiled. “Thanks, Trini. I appreciate it.”

  “And I do too.” Cynthia held her arms out to embrace her daughter. She looked over her shoulder. “John Michael, you’re welcome to get in on this group hug if you want to.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” He reached out to hug Trini, sandwiching Cyn between them.

  Lena entered the kitchen holding Cyn’s ringing phone. “Ms. Cyndi, your phone. It says Mr. J.D.”

  John Michael grabbed the phone from her and somehow managed to answer, even with his heart in his throat.

  “It’s me, Pop. I’m sorry, my phone must have died. What’s going on?” He straightened, placed his hand over his stomach at his father’s dreaded news. Without thinking, he reached for Cynthia. She clutched at his hand and met his gaze, her eyes wide with concern. “When, Pop? How’d it happen?”

  The moment he reached for her, she knew. Her hand flew to her mouth at his words. “Oh, no. Oh, John. No.” Her words were only a whisper but he must have heard them anyway. He blinked once, very slowly, and gave her a slight nod, a silent message to confirm her worst fears. Teary-eyed, she slipped her arms around him and held tight, waiting until he finished up the conversation with his dad.

  “Okay, Pop. Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I guess … uh … I don’t know. I’ll call you when I know more. Is someone there with you?” He pulled Cyn even closer as his father spoke. “Call Zachary or Ms. Bess.” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Okay, I’ll get Cyn to call her for you. I love you, too. And Pop?” He paused here, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” He nodded at whatever his dad said to him, answered with a final “Okay,” before disconnecting. He gave Cynthia one final hug before setting her away from him.

  “He went to see Mom this morning. He said they had her sitting up in her bed. She was still awake when he got there, but totally unresponsive. The nurse came in to get her situated for her nap as he was leaving. He did some shopping and got home about an hour ago. The facility just called him, said it looked like she went peacefully in her sleep.”

  Cynthia released the sob she’d been holding in. “I’m so sorry, John Michael.”

  “I know, but it’s better it happened this way, Cyn. You know it, I know it, and Pop probably does too. I just … I need to get home. What are my chances of getting a flight out of here anytime soon?”

  Cynthia gave her head an adamant shake. “No sir. We’re driving home today. Immediately.” She grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the living room. “Come on.”

  “I don’t want to mess up your visit with your kids, Cyn. Not when you’ve all just straightened things out.”

  Trini stepped forward. “That’s right, we have. You two go home to help your dad take care of things. We’ll do this again.” She reached up to give him a hug. “I’m so sorry, Mr. John. I wish I could have met her.”

  He smiled at her heartfelt words of sympathy. “Well, she hasn’t been herself for a while now. But thank you, Trini.”

  Lena hugged him also, as did Jessie once word of Ms. Marilee’s death made the rounds. The three men gave him handshakes and the requisite man-hug-pat-on-back.

  Within ten minutes of answering the call they were on their way to the hotel. Thirty minutes later, they’d checked out and had started the first leg of the journey home.

  Cyn ended the call from her mother. “Mom’s with your dad already. She said Zachary and Cat just made it there with the twins. They have to wait for the coroner to …” She let her voice trail off, knowing he wouldn’t want to hear the cold technicalities.

  He nodded. “I’m glad he’s not alone.” He swallowed loudly in the silence of her car. “I should have been there with him.”

  Her heart constricted at the hurt in his voice. “You can’t blame yourself for this. You couldn’t have known. No one suspected it would happen so quickly.”

  “I know. And dammit, I never go anywhere, Cyn. Never! Don’t you know, the one time I do, this happens.” He slapped the steering wheel for emphasis. “I should have been there for him.”

  Guilt washed over her like acid rain, eating away at any trace of joy she’d experienced over the last twenty-four hours, and leaving sour regret in its wake.

  Instantly, she was transported back to the day of Jenna Ferguson’s death. That day John Michael came barreling out of the high school office. He’d taken one look at her and ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He hadn’t been able to face her afterwards. For years the sight of her brought back the pain of that moment.

  Would this affect him the same way? Would he turn away from her again because of this?

  Oh. God. No.

  The next five hours of driving were excruciatingly quiet and tense. She pushed her bladder to its limits, refusing to ask him to stop to relieve herself. Finally, he noticed her squirming and pulled in at a fast food restaurant.

  He threw it into park and looked pointedly at her. “Come on, we need a bathroom break and a coffee.”

  “I can hold it for another hour,” she argued.

  He reached over to squeeze her hand. “But I can’t, and I’m not one for pissing in a coke bottle while I’m driving.”

  Praying to the toilet gods for working facilities, she preceded him inside and headed straight for the ladies room. A few minutes later, she walked out feeling much relieved. She approached John Michael at the counter, slid her hand down his arm, hoping to send him some small measure of comfort.

  He laced the fingers of his free hand through hers. “You want a coffee, or a bite to eat?”

  “Just coffee please, no sugar but plenty of cream.”

  He nodded and gave their order to the young man behind the register. Within a few minutes they were back on the road.

  She let him get back on the highway before shifting in her seat to face him. “Please don’t shut me out, John Michael.”

  He stared at her, his face drawn in a frown. “Why would you think I’d shut you out?”

  “I don’t know. It feels like it did when you heard about Jenna. You ran from me then. I don’t want you to run from me again.”

  He reached out to cup her face with one hand. “If I run this time, I’ll be running to you, Cyn. Not away from you.”

  “You don’t blame me?”

  “For my mother’s death? That’s ludicrous.”

  “No, because you weren’t there with her when she passed away.”

  “Pop wasn’t even there when she passed away, hon. Hell, neither was Mom, for that matter.”

  “Okay, then, for not being there for your father.”

  His brow furrowed before he shook his head. “Are you that determined to be the blame for something?”

  She shrugged, not knowing how to answer.

  “Jesus, Cyn. What kind of marriage did you have? Did you tiptoe around? Did you walk on eggshells, al
ways taking the blame for things, just to pacify your husband?”

  “No. Not really.”

  His right brow lifted drastically. “No? Or not really? Those are two entirely different answers.”

  She took a deep breath, released it slowly to relieve the tension in her chest. She considered his question seriously. “Thinking back on it now, I may have done a little tiptoeing, but I never really thought about it that way at the time. Gene wasn’t a brute or anything, but he could be moody as hell, and he always had to get his way. It’s kind of funny, now that I think about it. I always thought he was the perfect husband, until he died and I discovered he really wasn’t.”

  John Michael released a combination of a snort with an abrupt burst of laughter. “Oh God. I can’t wait.”

  She frowned, ready to hear some joke at her expense, something else Gene had done on occasion. How the hell had she managed to forget so many things until now? She supposed she could thank the therapy session. “You can’t wait for what?”

  “I can’t wait until we’re married. Then you’ll have something better to compare your thirty-something years with Gene to.”

  “Who says I’m marrying you?”

  “Are you saying you’d turn me down if I asked?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Are you saying you wouldn’t turn me down?”

  She picked at a speck of fuzz on her capris. “Not necessarily.”

  “Well, what are you saying, Cyn?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Are you asking me not to marry you?”

  He squinted, his face a study of masculine confusion. “Not necessarily.”

  She relaxed against her seat. “Well, when you ask me to marry you, you’ll get your answer.”

  “When I do, will you say yes?”

  “Isn’t this where we started?”

  “Answer the question, Cyn.”

  “Possibly.” She shrugged. “Probably.”

  His laughter filtered through the car’s interior. “Again, those are two entirely different answers.”