Rain Dance

by Rebecca Daniels

  “Sure, sure, okay,” Joe said, following the gurney past the nurses’ desk and through the swinging doors to the examination rooms. “But—”

  “Joe,” Cruz said in a calm voice, stopping him at the entrance of the examination room. “Let me do my job.” He reached up, catching hold of the curtain and giving it a yank. “So then you can do yours.”

  “Right,” Joe said with a resigned sigh as Cruz slid the curtain closed between them. “I’ll, uh, just be outside,” he said to no one in particular.

  Turning around, he slowly made his way back through the swinging doors and to the long row of chairs in the emergency waiting room. Sitting down, he slipped off his damp cowboy hat and rubbed at his tired, scratchy eyes.

  He knew he was being unreasonable, knew he had to be patient and just cool his heels until Cruz had a chance to examine her, he just didn’t feel like waiting. He’d been waiting for the last hour it had taken to drive back to Mesa Ridge—an hour the “rain woman” had spent unconscious.

  Rain Woman. That was how he’d come to think of her—woman of the rain. He lived and worked in the world of the white man, but his mind and his soul were still Navajo, still relating everything to the elemental basics in life—sun, moon, earth, sky, wind and rain. She had come into his world with the rain, so to him she was Rain.

  “Rain,” he muttered, thinking of the woman who was as puzzling, as enigmatic as the elements themselves. It was time to balance the scales, to put the world back in its place again. He’d waited, now he wanted action. He had questions, now he wanted answers. It was time for balance.

  “You look like you could use this.”

  Joe looked up, surprised to see Cruz Martinez’s wife, Marcy, standing in front of him with a foam cup of coffee in her hand. “Marcy, hello. What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I was hoping to get my husband out of here at a reasonable hour, but…” She stopped and glanced back at the doors leading to the examination rooms. “You pretty much took care of that.”

  Joe grimaced apologetically. “Sorry about that.”

  “I’m getting used to it,” Marcy confessed with a resigned sigh, turning back to him and offering him the steaming cup of coffee. “I was just hoping we could have a few hours together this evening since I’ll be taking off for the state capital tomorrow.”

  “Giving up the bench for the governor’s office?”

  Marcy laughed. “Just hearing a change of venue case up there for a few weeks.” She looked down at the cup in her hand. “Here, drink this before it gets cold.”

  Joe smiled up at her. He’d barely known Marcy when she’d married Cruz two years ago, but since then he’d come to not only like her, but admire her as well. In addition to being a devoted wife and mother, she was also a Mesa County Superior Court Judge.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking several sips of hot brew, savoring its black, bitter taste.

  “Better?”

  Joe nodded. “Much.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, Sheriff Mountain, you look a little like a drowned rat.”

  “I don’t mind, Your Honor,” he admitted. “I happen to feel a little like a drowned rat at the moment.”

  She gestured back to the examination rooms with a nod of her head. “Accident victim?”

  Joe shook his head slowly, glancing at the closed doors, and shook his head. “Got me.”

  Marcy frowned. “You don’t know?”

  Joe thought of the woman, thought of Rain and the million scenarios that had raced through his mind when he’d seen her step out of the gloom and into the beam of his headlights. He would have found it less puzzling, less unsettling if she’d done something simple, like pull a gun on him. At least things would have been clear then, cut-and-dried. At least it would have explained what she was doing out there.

  “No, I don’t,” he said after a moment, his gaze slowly moving to Marcy’s. “I picked her up out on the highway. She was wandering around out there all by herself.”

  “In this storm?” Marcy’s brow furrowed. “Poor thing. Where was this?”

  “Out on Route 16,” Joe said, remembering the fear he had seen in her eyes. “About twenty miles south of the Hollister place.”

  “The Hollister place!” Marcy gasped, her eyes wide with surprise now. “Way up there? What would she be doing wandering around there?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said with a tired sigh. The fatigue of a too long day with too little sleep had suddenly begun to take hold. “There was no car, no sign of an accident.”

  Marcy’s frown deepened. “You suspect foul play?”

  Joe shrugged. “At this point I’m looking at everything.” He slowly stood up, tossing the empty cup into the sand of the ashtray beside the chair. He turned and looked at the closed doors of the examination rooms. “She was unconscious when I brought her in, I’m hoping when she wakes up…” He stopped and glanced back to Marcy. “Well, I’d like to question her when she wakes up.”

  “Cruz say what he thought was wrong with her?”

  Joe thought of that curtain being closed in his face, and scowled. “Cruz didn’t say anything.”

  Marcy smiled. “Yes, well, I know how that go— Oh, wait—here he is.”

  Joe had to stop himself from running across the corridor to meet the doctor at the door.

  “Is she okay, Doc?” he asked, surprised by the sound of alarm in his own voice. “Is she awake?”

  “She’s awake,” Cruz said, spotting his wife and steering Joe back into the direction of the waiting area. “But she’s very weak.” He slipped an arm around Marcy’s waist, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Reluctantly, he turned back to Joe, swiping an arm across his forehead. “And she’s exhausted.”

  “But can I talk to her?” Joe asked eagerly.

  Cruz turned and looked at him. “I don’t think it’s going to do much good.”

  Joe felt something go dead in him. “Why, what’s the matter?”

  “She doesn’t remember.”

  “What do you mean she doesn’t remember?”

  “She doesn’t remember,” Cruz said again. “She doesn’t remember anything.” He glanced down at Marcy, then back to Joe. “What we have here is a case of amnesia.”

  Chapter 2

  “Good morning, Miss Rain.”

  The voice came from out of the darkness, sounding bright and sunny and safe. It reached down into the shadows like a hand extending out to her and she felt herself struggling, felt herself reaching. She wanted that hand, wanted up and out of the gloom.

  “Rise and shine, it’s not raining this morning. Maybe we should call you Sunshine now.”

  Suddenly her head was filled with sound and shafts of light pierced the layers of her eyelids, obliterating the darkness and sending the nightmare to the back of her brain. Thank God, it had been a dream. It all had been just a terrible dream.

  “Come on now, sleepyhead, open up those eyes. Breakfast is being served. We’ve got to get you fed and down to the lab for a whole pack of tests the doctor has planned for you. Come on now, wake up. I know you wouldn’t want to miss any of the fun.”

  Noise and light assaulted her, making her forget about panic and fear. She welcomed the chaos, welcomed the voice that coaxed her awake. She wanted to open her eyes and have her world made right again.

  “What do we have here? Ah yes, oatmeal—nice and lumpy—our kitchen’s specialty. Come on now, Miss Rain. Let me see those eyes open.”

  The light was blinding at first, painful and unyielding against eyes accustomed only to darkness. Still, it felt warm and comforting against her skin. There was a moment when it seemed that her eyes had forgotten how to function, when she could make out nothing of what she saw and the world was reduced to indistinguishable, unrecognizable blurred images. However, slowly those blurry, distorted images came into focus and she found herself looking into a face that looked as kind and as friendly as its voice sounded.

  “Atta girl. Let’s see th
ose…” The voice drifted off as she leaned in for a closer look. “Looks like there might be some blue in there. Open them up darlin’. Let’s get a good look at those baby blues.”

  Her throat felt raw and coarse and she thought of how small and lost her screams had sounded in the desert.

  And then she remembered. She may be waking up, but the nightmare wasn’t over—and for a moment, panic put a stranglehold on her throat.

  “Wh-where am I?”

  “You’re in Mesa County General Hospital. Do you remember talking to the doctor last night?”

  Jumbled, confused images of people and faces flashed suddenly into her brain and she remembered waking up to noise and confusion. How frightening it had been to wake up and find herself being poked and prodded by strangers, but at least she’d been out of the desert, at least she hadn’t been alone.

  “He asked questions,” she croaked, lifting a hand to her throat. The words hurt. “He gave me a shot.”

  “Something to help you rest,” the woman said. “But there’s no time to sleep now. Let’s get some food in you and get you down to the lab or Dr. Martinez is going to have my head on a platter.”

  “I—I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember? You mean, talking to the doctor?”

  She shook her head, pain radiating as dread rose up from her belly like a wave on the shore. “You—you don’t understand. I don’t remember anything.”

  “When you’re ready you will,” the woman said breezily, maneuvering the control switch along the bed frame and raising the back of the bed. “And these tests may help.”

  “Tests?” It was only then that she realized the woman was wearing a nurse’s uniform. “They’ll help me remember?”

  “Well, not the tests themselves,” the nurse qualified. “But they’ll help the doctor know just what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours.”

  “I—I don’t remember how…” she stammered, wincing as her hand brushed the hair along the back of her head. “I don’t know how that bump on my head happened, either.”

  “Try not to think about all that too much right now,” the nurse advised. “It’s not going to help if you’re upset.” She propped the pillows. “Now come on, Rain. Eat your breakfast.”

  She looked down at the food in front of her, the smell triggering a violent reaction in her stomach. “I—I’m not hungry.”

  “Too bad,” the nurse said with a wry sigh, picking up the spoon and shoving it into her hand. “Hunger usually makes this stuff go down a little easier. Come on now, be a good girl. Dig in.”

  She looked down at the spoon in her hand and then to the food on the tray. Everything in her system wanted to revolt, wanted to protest the sight and the aroma of the food. It was as if she’d left the nightmare only to awaken into a surreal dream. She was sitting in this strange place looking at food she didn’t want and having no idea how she got there. Slowly, she lowered the spoon to the tray and pushed it away.

  “You called me something,” she said, falling back against the pillows. “Rain? Do you know me? Is that my name?”

  The nurse shook her head, sliding the tray back into place. “No, sweetheart, I’m afraid I don’t know.” She picked up the spoon and scooped it full of oatmeal. “We’ve been calling you Rain. That’s what Sheriff Mountain called you.”

  “Sheriff Mountain?”

  The nurse nodded. “He brought you in last night.” She lifted the spoon. “He’s the one who found you wandering around out there.”

  “Sheriff Mountain,” she murmured, remembering the headlights of a car, remembering a tall, dark, shadowy figure stepping in front of them and remembering a soft voice and strong arms that felt warm and secure.

  “Would you prefer I call you something else?”

  She looked up at the nurse. Rain. She liked the name, liked the sound of it. It didn’t make her think of the freezing, pelting rain but rather the strong arms that brought her rescue and warmth.

  Her name was Rain. Knowing that made her feel better, made her feel less afraid. With a name, she was a real person. With a name, she had something to hold on to.

  She squeezed her eyes tight, feeling the panic rise from the depths again. Who was she really? Where did she come from? What had happened to her and why?

  “No,” she mumbled, opening her eyes. “Rain’s fine.”

  “Okay then, Rain,” the nurse coaxed with the spoonful of oatmeal. “Just a little.”

  Rain looked at the oatmeal and felt her stomach roll. In the long list of things she couldn’t remember, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, either. Gingerly, she opened her mouth.

  “Good girl,” the nurse commended as she watched Rain take a bite. “That doesn’t taste too awfully bad, now does it?”

  A warm, rich flavor filled her senses and Rain reached for the spoon, shoveling in another mouthful. It was delicious.

  “Want me to pour you a glass of milk?” the nurse asked.

  Rain nodded, gobbling up another bite. “You said this was Mesa County General Hospital?” The nurse nodded as she poured milk from a small carton and into a glass on the tray. “Where’s that?”

  “Mesa Ridge. In Nevada,” the nurse said, walking to the door and pulling a wheelchair in from the corridor. “Sound familiar?”

  Rain took several gulps of milk and shook her head. Reaching for a knife, she spread strawberry preserves over a slice of toast. “Not at all. Is it near Las Vegas? Reno?”

  The nurse laughed. “Oh, Rain. Mesa Ridge, Nevada, is about as far away from everything as you can get.” Her smile slowly faded. “Which makes me think you’re not from around here.”

  Rain finished the milk and reached for a glass of orange juice. “You don’t think so?”

  “I don’t,” the nurse said thoughtfully.

  “Why do you say that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. You just don’t look the type.”

  “I don’t?”

  A random thought suddenly raced through her brain as she pierced an orange wedge with her fork from the fruit cup on the tray. Did she know what she looked like?

  “I don’t know. You just look a little too…sophisticated for these parts. We don’t get a lot of corduroy blazers and penny loafers out this way. Besides, there may be a lot of land out here, a lot of wide-open spaces, but there aren’t that many people so we tend to keep track of one another. Someone from around here turns up missing, you tend to hear about it.”

  Rain watched as the nurse fussed about her, adjusting the blankets on the bed, fluffing the already fluffed pillows, but her mind was remembering the shadowy figure that had reached for her in the headlights of the car. She remembered how warm and safe she had felt in his arms and longed for that feeling again.

  “No one’s turned up missing around here?” she asked after a moment.

  “Not that I’ve heard,” the nurse admitted. “And believe me, there isn’t much that happens in Mesa County that I don’t know about.” She paused for a moment, then pointed down at the tray. “And I’d say for someone who isn’t hungry, you did a pretty good job.”

  Rain glanced down at the dishes, shocked to find them empty. “I—I had no idea….”

  “I don’t know that I’ve ever known anyone to actually finish a bowl of our oatmeal before,” the nurse conceded, pulling a folded hospital robe from a drawer in the bed stand. “You must have been starvin’, darlin’.”

  Rain had to admit she did feel better. The gnawing in her stomach had eased and her headache didn’t feel nearly as bad. “I didn’t even know I was hungry.”

  “Maybe not,” the nurse said, handing her the robe. “But your body knew it needed some nutrition.” She pulled the covers on the bed back. “Now put that robe around you and let’s get you going.”

  Rain looked down at the faded robe, then back up to the nurse. “Is there a mirror in here?”

  The nurse hesitated for a moment, then something softened in her eyes.

>   “Right here,” she said, flipping back a plastic disk from a panel beside the bed, revealing a small lighted mirror on the other side. “And maybe I can scrounge up a hairbrush, too.”

  Rain slowly leaned forward, almost reluctant to see who would look back at her. What if she didn’t recognize that face? She was surrounded by a world of strangers. What if she was a stranger to herself?

  “It’s…it’s me,” she whispered, watching the reflection of her own lips move in the mirror. Leaning closer, she brought a hand to her lips, her cheek, and through her hair, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. She wasn’t sure when the last time was that she had seen the face in the mirror, but it was a familiar face to her—gloriously and gratefully familiar. For the first time since she’d awakened in the desert, she was looking at something familiar.

  “This isn’t much,” the nurse conceded, pulling a small, plastic-wrapped comb from another drawer in the bed stand. “But it might work until we can get you some decent toiletries. Run it through your hair while I get one of the student nurses to take you down to the lab.” She glanced down at the oversize watch on her wrist. “X rays aren’t scheduled for about an hour but the way those techs in the lab poke around, it’ll take them about that long to draw a couple cc’s of blood from you.”

  Rain glanced up, feeling another moment of uneasiness. “You—you won’t be coming with me?”

  The nurse smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry—you haven’t seen the last of me yet. We’ve got a bunch of things planned for you.” She helped Rain into the wheelchair and pushed her out of the room and into the corridor where a young woman stood waiting. “This is Terri and she’s going to take you for your tests and then in to see Dr. Martinez.”

  “Will he have the results then?” Rain asked, fear creeping into her voice. What if the doctor’s tests reveal that she’d never get better, what if they reveal she never would remember? “When will I know?”

  The nurse bent close, covering Rain’s hand with hers. There was such kindness in her weathered face, such compassion, Rain couldn’t help herself from responding. The woman understood what she was feeling, understood just how frightened she was.