Running Out of Rain

by Lori Leger

  She brushed at her shirt. “Looks like I was mistaken before. Now we’re back to where we started.”

  Laughter rolled deep in his chest again as he shook his head. “Honestly, Cyn. I can’t flipping wait to marry you.”

  She turned to face the window, the now familiar landmarks flying past as they neared their destination. Biting her lip in an effort to suppress a smile, Cynthia took her first relaxed breath since the awful beginning of this trip back to Lake Erin.

  He couldn’t wait to marry her.

  “Mom?”

  Cynthia turned, shocked to see not one, but all three of her children standing before her. “Oh, you all came for the funeral?”

  Jeremy pulled her close for a hug. “We felt like we had to. John’s such a nice guy, and we know he means a lot to you.”

  She hugged Trini and Tyler. “No Zoe? Grandma Bess will be so disappointed.”

  Lena appeared suddenly, holding the toddler. “We’re here. I took her to go potty so they could find you.”

  “Oh, thank you for coming, Lena. And come here, Sweetie Pie. Oh give Grammy a hug.”

  “Love you, Gwammy!”

  “I love you too, Zoe. I’ve got a great idea. Let’s go find Mr. John.”

  She found him in the kitchen drinking coffee with Zach and Mr. J.D. “Someone wants to tell you hello, Mr. John.”

  His face lit up instantly. “Hey there, Zoe! I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “John!” She launched herself into his arms and hugged him, generating a round of lighthearted laughter from the circle of people.

  “Aw. Thanks so much sweet girl. How’d you know I needed a hug?” He turned, his face glowing with gratitude as his gaze landed on the group of four standing behind Cynthia. “I can’t believe you all made the trip for this.” Four hugs later, he cleared his throat, still shaking his head as he placed his free hand over his heart. “Honestly, this means a lot to me.”

  “You made a good impression on us. The way we see it, you’ll probably be family one day,” Trini explained.

  “Yep,” Tyler added. “And family’s got to stick together.” He leaned forward to add. “Jessie sends her love. We couldn’t both take two days off. She sacrificed so I could make it here.”

  “Another reason to hang on to her,” John added, as Tyler nodded in agreement.

  “May as well get to know everyone now,” Jeremy added. “Besides, it’s time I introduced Lena to Grandma Bess.”

  Cynthia dabbed at the corner of her eye with a tissue. “It is, and she should be here any minute.”

  “But for now,” John added, “I want you all to meet my dad and my son.”

  Several introductions later, Cynthia stood by, awed at the friendly interaction between her children and John’s. Zachary had collected Cathryn and the twins to join them in the kitchen for a meet and greet before the final service began. Cynthia turned as Mr. J.D. appeared beside her, holding a small cup of coffee.

  “So these are Ham and Bessie’s grandkids.”

  She nodded. “They’re my contribution to the fold, anyway. There are six more between my other two siblings.”

  “You and Johnny …” He paused, lifted one hand to indicate the chattering group, all smiles and laughter. “This is a wonderful thing to happen to our family. He’s been alone far too long. It started last year when Cathryn came back into Zachary’s life after being gone for a dozen years.”

  Cynthia gazed over at the beautiful girl, her dark eyes sparkling with laughter as she conversed easily with Trini and Lena. “She’s a beautiful addition to the family.”

  J.D. grunted in agreement. “They don’t come any sweeter. She was like a little ray of sunshine. Then they had the twins, and boy, am I ever looking forward to having those little pooters running around wreaking havoc in our lives.”

  Cynthia observed the twins, one in Trini’s arms, the other in Lena’s, both showing off the smiles they’d so recently learned to control. “God, they’re adorable. Look at them. They’ve already got those two wrapped.”

  J.D.’s chuckle rumbled like an old outboard motor. “Yep, they know how to take command of an audience, that’s for sure. It looks like your little one has mastered it, as well. She’s taken a shining to Johnny, over there.”

  Cynthia frowned at the sight of Zoe patting John Michael’s face and plastering him with kisses. “Should I be jealous?”

  He grinned and patted her hand. “I think you’re solid. You and Johnny are wonderful together. I believe Marilee knew it, too, from something your mother said after one visit.”

  She cocked her head to get a better look at the man she suspected would be her father-in-law one day. “What did she say?”

  “I can’t quite remember. Bess was a little mysterious about it. Kind of like Marilee always was when she wrote in her journal.”

  Cynthia nodded. “Yes, the pink floral book. She had it with her when I visited that first day. She said, ‘You’re in it now, too,’ or something similar. What’s in it?”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea. It’s in a box with the rest of her things. I haven’t had the heart to dig into anything yet.”

  His mouth drawn and tight, he looked ready to tear-up. She turned to him, laid her face on his big barrel chest. “I love you, Mr. J.D.”

  He wrapped one arm around her and squeezed. “Same here, sweet girl.” He shook with laughter as her mother entered the kitchen and got her first glimpse of Cynthia’s brood. “Oh, look out, now. The old hen has seen all her grand-chicks. Look at the smile on her face.”

  Cynthia straightened and observed her mother. Bess looked in their direction, her face beaming with joy, only her gaze wasn’t directed at her daughter, but rather at the man beside her. Cynthia glanced up at Mr. J.D., recognized the same look of joy on his face as her mother’s.

  A sudden thought warmed her heart, even though she said nothing. She’d keep this to herself for the moment. Like a wish made at a magical fountain or a shooting star. The kind you don’t dare speak aloud … because then it wouldn’t come true.

  Over and done.

  J.D. sat in his chair, staring at the Visitation Sign-in book the funeral home had given him, too damn exhausted to open the thing.

  The funeral had gone off without a hitch yesterday. After the burial, dozens of people had come here, to his and Marilee’s home. They’d spoken in low whispers at first, had eventually grown louder. Eaten food the bereavement committee had delivered. All delicious, all made by the caring women of Our Lady of the Lake’s Catholic Daughters. They’d shared delicious red velvet cake and fig tarts, all freshly baked by Bess.

  Friends left first, their social obligations fulfilled for the time being. Immediate family remained, including Cynthia’s bunch. He’d insisted they sit as a family in church. Why not? No doubt, Johnny and his “Cyn” would be married at some point in the near future.

  Prior to losing Marilee, he’d found himself looking forward to a wedding between those two. Until recently, he’d hoped his wife would attend, whether as mother of the groom or a casual acquaintance. But those hopes had vanished with the last several visits, when his wife turned into a shell of the woman she’d once been.

  The thought of attending any joyous occasion made him want to crawl in a hole. How could he justify being happy in any sense of the word, without his wife by his side?

  How could he do anything without going to her room at the home two or three times a week to tell her all about it? It didn’t matter if she knew him, heard him, understood him, or not. It was his duty, his role in life, his routine.

  He pulled out his handkerchief, wiped at his eyes, thanking God one more time she’d at least seen her great grandchildren. He looked over at the picture Cathryn had printed and framed for him, a beautiful shot of Marilee, dressed and smiling, with him seated beside her, each of them holding one of Cat and Zach’s twins. She’d had such a good afternoon.

  He picked up the small photo album Cathryn had made for Marilee to
keep in her room, filled with pictures. She’d taken dozens of shots, all to commemorate the wonderful day, to insert those moments permanently into the timeline of their lives. He flipped through the album all the way to the end, had to use the handkerchief again to wipe the moisture from his eyes, and then chided himself for his weakness.

  He closed the album, set it back on his lamp table by his recliner. “Buck up, old man.”

  His thoughts returned to Johnny and Cynthia, and the inevitable wedding. Marilee had been so proud, so thrilled when Johnny and Beth had been married at the Cathedral in Lafayette. Said she’d never seen such a beautiful wedding before, even though it had been simple.

  Sadness ripped through his soul, sapping him of energy, of any trace of happiness at the prospect of a future wedding. Or birth. Or anything that Marilee would never get to see.

  He lifted the Visitation book from his lap, flipped from one page to another, amazed at how clearly he could see since his cataract surgery. There were dozens of names of people who’d come to pay their respects.

  He recalled several of the old acquaintances who’d been in his home yesterday after the burial. How many times had he heard them say it was “for the best”? How many of them had insisted Marilee would have wanted to go in her sleep if she’d had a choice?

  Maybe so, but it wasn’t what he wanted for her. It never had been. He’d wanted to be beside her, in their own bed, in their own home when she left this world.

  And if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he’d hoped to leave this earthly prison at the exact moment she did.

  John Michael glanced at his ringing phone. The single name, Cyn, flashed across the screen. The sight gave him both a thrill and a feeling of dread at the prospect of having to cancel another date night with her.

  Damn, he missed her. He ached at the thought of being able to hold her in his arms, of making love to her as he had at the hotel in Arkansas. The last time had been the morning of his mother’s death, on July 26th. Here it was, August 29th, and they’d barely had any time alone together since then. It was agony, knowing how good it had been, and would be again, once his Pop was back to his old self.

  He tapped the onscreen answer button. “Hey, Cyn. How’s your day going?”

  “Hey yourself. I’ve been busy, thank God.”

  The sound of her voice washed over him like warm sunshine, filling him with the need to see her. “Why is it a good thing?”

  “It keeps me from missing you every second of the day. How’s Mr. J.D. today? Any better?”

  John’s gaze shifted over to where his pop sat in the recliner, reading today’s weekly edition of the Lake Erin Sun Times. He’d brought the paper to him ten minutes ago at two p.m. sharp, and he was already halfway through the darn thing. He figured when you had nothing else to look forward to, the local news made for highly anticipated reading material. “About the same, I’m guessing.”

  “Are we still on for tonight? Or should I cancel the reservation at D.I.’s and bring over a rotisserie chicken for supper?”

  “I think maybe that’d be best, Cyn. Do you mind?” Her sigh told him she did mind having to share him with his old man, every bit as much as he minded not having a second alone with her. The thought of another predictably mind-numbing evening of Wheel of Fortune, followed by Gunsmoke and Maverick reruns, made him want to tear his hair out. But her words gave him hope.

  “As long as I get to sit next to you on his lumpy old sofa, I’ll be happy.”

  He smiled. “It won’t be like this forever. Don’t give up on me.”

  “Never. I love you, John Michael.”

  As always, hearing those three words from her mouth put a smile on his face. “It never gets old, hearing that. I love you, Cyn. See you tonight.” He turned, had to take a step back at the sudden appearance of his dad inside his personal space. “Shit, Pop. Give a guy some warning, would you?”

  His dad’s brow wrinkled in a frown. “Did I hear you break another date with Cynthia to stay home with me?”

  “N-no. Pop, it’s fine. She likes spending time with us here.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Pop—”

  “Look, Son, it’s like Bess told me the other day. Between our family and Cynthia’s, we’ve had a lot of gray skies and hard rains. It’s high time somebody in this group gets a little clear weather. I’m kinda looking forward to running out of rain, aren’t you?” J.D. pointed at the phone in John’s hand. “Call her back. Whatever plans you two made for tonight, you go through with ‘em. I’m seventy-seven years old, and of sound mind and body. I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

  “Really Pop, we don’t mi—”

  “Boy! Did I raise you to disobey me? To treat me like an old fool?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then hit a button on that smarter-than-you phone, put it to your ear, and tell her the date’s on. I’m not an invalid, you know.”

  “I never said you were.”

  J.D. turned to walk away, a steady diatribe of grumbles pouring from his mouth. “So, I’ve felt a bit down. It doesn’t mean I want to drag you down with me.”

  “Pop—” One particularly hard glare from his old man cut off any further comeback. “Okay. I’m calling. Right now.” He left the room, wanting to keep his old man from seeing the bounce in his step.

  He hit the redial button and she answered immediately. “Hey, Babe. There’s no need to cancel those reservations. I got an unexpected reaming from Pop. We’re on for tonight.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep, I’ll pick you up at five sharp. And Cyn?”

  “Yes?”

  “Wear your dancing shoes.” Her squeal of delight put a smile back on his face, one he couldn’t erase for the rest of the day.

  J.D. stood at the door, sent his son one last wave as he headed off in his truck. Thank goodness he’d over heard him when he did, or he’d have been responsible for another night of boredom for those two. He’d tried to tell them he was okay, to go off and do whatever younger folks did these days for fun.

  He was glad they were going for a meal and dancing at D.I.’s. He and Marilee loved that place. They’d had some mighty fine times dancing to good old Cajun music at quite a few clubs and dancehalls in this area over the first fifty years of their marriage. Here in Lake Erin, The Lakeshore Club had topped the list. They’d danced many a night there to live bands, eaten many a meal in its Anchor Room restaurant. He couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t purchased a bingo card or two so Marilee could play bingo while she ate her meal. Many a time he’d heard his sweet wife mutter mild expletives as someone else had “Bingo-ed” in the Anchor Room, when all she lacked was one lousy square.

  They’d eaten many a meal at the old Wave Café at the south end of Lake Erin Avenue, passed many good times with friends at The Red Rose, attended wedding dances and receptions at the Knights of Columbus and VFW Halls. They’d spent the occasional evening with friends at Lu-Lu Broussard’s Lounge and the Circle Top in Gardiner when decent bands appeared. Neither of them had ever been drinkers, but they’d both loved to dance.

  They’d showed off some fine dance moves at the Town and Country Club over in Riceville, a dot on a map just north of Gardiner. Some of the best Cajun bands they’d ever heard played right there at the place the locals had dubbed “Chicky Town” for whatever reason.

  Some claimed it was because of the women that always seemed to gather there in the “old days”, others insisted its nickname was derived from the distinctive “chanky-chank” sound of the music, produced from the Cajun accordion and drums to keep the beat going. Still others said it was because of the Cajun dance moves.

  Why, hell, they’d seen musical royalty there; the queen of country music, Ms. Loretta Lynn, as well as the king of Zydeco, Clifton Chenier.

  It pleased him to know his son and grandson were both avid dancers of Cajun, Zydeco, and country music. He and Marilee had been thrilled to see them waltzing and jitter-bugging during Cat and Zac
h’s wedding reception last year. It had done their hearts good to see the young couple keep the old Cajun way of starting off their reception with the traditional Wedding March.

  A new wave of sadness washed over him at the memory. He made his way to the bedroom he’d shared with his wife of nearly sixty years, and stopped in the doorway. His gaze settled on the cardboard box containing personal items from her room at the home. He sighed, reconciled to not having a damn thing better to do tonight.

  Bess had called earlier, inviting him to supper, but he’d turned her down, of course. He couldn’t have people thinking he’d forgotten about his wife, even though he knew Bess was as much a friend of his as she had been Marilee’s. The old gal probably missed his wife as much as he did.

  He dragged the box closer to Marilee’s overstuffed reading chair, the one she insisted on bringing with her once she’d made the decision to leave here—the same one Johnny had picked up and delivered back home because J.D. couldn’t bear to set foot in that room of hers again.

  “This ain’t gonna get any easier, old man. Just get it the hell over with.” He got comfortable in Marilee’s ‘spot’, flipped open the box top. His breath hitched as his gaze fell on the top item in the box. Her treasured crocheted afghan—treasured because it had been her last gift from her beloved daughter-in-law. Bethie had taught herself to crochet and had thought enough of her in-laws to gift them each with the beautiful, handmade blankets for Christmas. From that day on, Marilee’s blanket, in pretty blue and rose colors, had a place of honor on the back of her reading chair. He stood, unfolded the afghan and placed it on the back of the chair, where it belonged.

  He sat again, peered into the box and his heart plummeted to his toes at the sight of his wife’s journal. Guilt ate at him. How the hell had he managed to forget about the one item that had been his wife’s constant companion throughout her stay at the home?

  He picked it up, sat back in the chair and examined the book covered in the pink floral print, worn from her constant handling over the past year. She’d written in it when she remembered. Read from it when she didn’t. He’d only asked once to see the contents. She’d turned him down flat. Insisted it was for another time, after she was gone.