Rain Dance

by Rebecca Daniels

  “Things broke up early,” he mumbled, walking to the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of beer.

  Rain kept her eyes glued to the soup bubbling in the saucepan, but every sense she had made her aware of his every move. After an exhausting night with little sleep, the day had been long and tiring. Joe had given her a ride to work this morning, dropping her off at the office before leaving.

  He’d said little during their drive into town, not that she’d expected more. Still, it would have been nice and maybe taken a little of the sting out of his rejection. After all, he had kissed her. The least he could have done was acknowledge that. Maybe it hadn’t meant much to him but did that give him the right to just ignore it, to pretend it never happened?

  In her peripheral vision, she could see him twist off the cap from the beer bottle and take a long drink and a disturbing thought crept into her head, something she hadn’t thought about until now. Joe had been drinking last night, and from his slurred speech and clumsy movements he’d been drinking quite a bit. Was it possible he didn’t remember the kiss? Could it be that all the passion and all the desire she’d thought she’d sensed last night were simply a result of too much alcohol?

  She gave her head a shake. What did it matter? It was over, it was a mistake and by his own words, it wasn’t right. Maybe she would be better off if she tried to forget it, too.

  “I’m just fixing a little soup, you’re welcome to have some if you’d like.”

  He took another drink, a long one this time. “Yeah, that would be great.”

  The spoon in her hand dropped, landing with a clank against the side of the saucepan. “You will?”

  He nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “N-no, of course not,” she stammered, reaching for the handle of the spoon.

  How many times in the last few weeks had she asked him to share a meal with her and how many times had he refused? She’d asked fully expecting him to refuse this time, too, but he’d managed to surprise her again. She almost wished now she hadn’t asked. She felt so uncomfortable around him, so ill at ease she almost preferred to be alone.

  She’d actually been relieved when he’d told her about his meeting this morning. Things had become so tense and uncomfortable, she actually looked forward to an evening to herself. After her long conversation with Marcy this morning, she’d had a lot to think about, a lot of plans to make.

  “Need any help with anything?” he asked.

  “Not much to do,” she confessed with a shrug. “You could get those wheat crackers in the pantry if you’d like. I thought I’d slice some cheese.”

  “Oh, yeah, cheese and crackers sound good with the soup,” he said, setting down his beer and disappearing into the pantry. “I hope this isn’t too much bother.”

  “No bother at all,” she said as he reappeared from the pantry with the box of crackers in his hand. He was being almost friendly, which only made what she had to tell him all that much harder. “Like I said, it’s just soup and crackers and there’s plenty.” She hesitated for only a moment, dropping her gaze to the soup again. “Besides we need to talk.”

  From the corner of her eye she saw him stop abruptly.

  “Talk?”

  She nodded.

  He set the cracker box down on the table. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “Well, let’s get the soup poured,” she said, her courage deserting her as she pulled two bowls down from the cupboard and reached for the ladle. “Might as well, while it’s hot.”

  The meal was casual, with the two of them sitting together in the small breakfast nook and eating their soup and munching on cheese and crackers. Rain had told him she wanted to talk, yet they ended up eating in silence. It wasn’t until they were clearing up the dishes that Joe turned to her.

  “You said something about wanting to talk?”

  Rain’s heart jumped violently in her chest. “Yeah.”

  “Something on your mind?”

  She carried the soup bowls to the sink. “Yes.”

  He followed her, carrying what remained of the crackers and cheese. “So, shoot.”

  She rinsed the bowls in the sink, slipping them into the dishwasher. “You know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done giving me a place to stay, giving me a job.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly.

  “And I don’t think either one of us realized when I moved in here just how uncertain my prognosis was. My sessions with Dr. McGhan are going fine but it could be weeks, months, maybe even—” she stopped, taking a deep breath at the one thought that haunted her on a daily basis “—even years before I have any significant memory recall.

  “Now I prefer to think of my recovery in terms of weeks instead of years, but the truth of the matter is, I simply don’t know and because of that, it’s unreasonable to think that our—our living arrangements could go on indefinitely, so—” she reached for a hand towel, twisting it between her damp hands “—so I really appreciate your hospitality, but I’ve decided to move out.”

  “What?”

  His shocked, angry tone, surprised her.

  “It’s—it’s not that I don’t appreciate—”

  “What do you mean you’re moving out?”

  “I just thought—”

  “Where do you plan on going?” he demanded, cutting her off again.

  “I thought I could get a place in town—”

  “I suppose you want to leave your job, too,” he said, accusing.

  “Oh, no, I don’t want—”

  “Because if it’s too much for you we can get someone in to help you.”

  “I don’t want to quit my job,” she insisted. “I love my job.”

  He stalked across the kitchen, stopping in front of her. He stared down at her, his chest heaving with emotion.

  “Is this about last night?”

  “What?” she gasped. “No.”

  “Last night was a mistake, I admit it,” he continued, ignoring her protest. “I was out of line. It was inexcusable, I admit it. It was late, I’d had too much to drink, but I promise it will never happen again.”

  “Last night had nothing to do with my decision,” she lied. It might be a big reason, but it wasn’t the only one. “Things are so uncertain for me. I can’t ask you to keep a roof over my head indefinitely.”

  “You’re not asking,” he insisted. “I’m offering.”

  “It’s better this way.”

  “Better for who?”

  “Whom,” she corrected automatically, that fleeting feeling flicking through her consciousness again. “And it’s better for both of us.” She twisted the dish towel in her hands. “You’ve been wonderful, but I know it hasn’t been easy for you, having me underfoot day in and day out.”

  “You’re not underfoot.”

  She didn’t want to argue the point, didn’t want to hear what kind of explanation he had for all but ignoring her the last couple of weeks. His rejection had hurt, but there was no need for him to know that.

  “Regardless,” she said, dismissing the issue with a wave of her hand. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

  He paced back and forth across the kitchen for a moment, running a hand through his long hair. “Where will you go?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she admitted. “But Marcy is going to help me find a place.”

  “Marcy?” He stalked back across the kitchen toward her. “Marcy knows about this and didn’t try to talk you out of it?”

  Rain thought of all the reasons Marcy had given her on why she thought Rain should stay with Joe. Marcy had agreed to help only after Rain had convinced her that her mind was set.

  “Marcy agrees I should do what I feel is best,” she maintained, carefully skirting all the rest.

  He stared down at her, his eyes dark and dangerous “And you think it is best?”

  Looking up at him, Rain felt emotion grow thick in her throat. “I do.”

  For a moment she wasn’t sure what he was goi
ng to do. The look in his eyes had gone from menacing to wild as his chest rose and fell with each rapid breath.

  “No,” he said shaking his head. Restless, he rocked back and forth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It was as if he were working up to something, as though something were seething inside, looking for a means of escape. “No, you can’t.”

  This wasn’t like him. He was normally so calm, normally played it close to the chest when it came to emotion. But there was nothing calm or restrained about him now. Maybe she should have felt afraid, or at the very least concerned. Instead, a thrill of excitement catapulted through her.

  “Can’t find a place? Yes, I can, I’m sure—”

  “You can’t leave.”

  The breath caught in her lungs. “I can’t?”

  “You can’t,” he said again.

  “Joe, this is crazy. I have to. It’s time. I have to go—”

  “You can’t leave!” he roared, grabbing her by the arms. The towel in her hands slipped and fell soundlessly to the floor. “I—I won’t let you.”

  There was nothing unexpected or surprising about what he did next. He had grabbed her and hurled her against him, but at least a full minute passed before his mouth came crushing down on hers. In that moment, he had stared into her eyes and she had felt the depth and the breadth of the need in them.

  He may have promised her he wouldn’t kiss her again, but it was one promise he was destined to break. It was as if God and Nature had conspired to bring them together, to create between them a hunger so strong that neither caution nor common sense could control it. Whether it was right or wrong, wise or rash, prudent or foolish it was there and it was real and both were helpless to deny it any longer.

  When he kissed her this time, she was ready for the onslaught, ready for the rush of fire and heat that hurled through her veins like lava from a volcano. Yet, the force of his kiss left her trembling. She didn’t know if she’d ever been held by a man before, if she’d ever been kissed or desired or loved. She had been reborn by the desert, washed clean by the rain. What once had been was no longer. She had shed her past and walked into a future where there was only one man, one desire, one love.

  “Rain,” he murmured against her lips, his voice raw was need. “My Rain.”

  His hands slid down her arms, past her waist and settled on her bottom. Pulling her tight, he pressed himself to her. He was hard against her and she felt herself grow weak.

  She was as a virgin, unsullied, untouched, unadulterated, on a maiden voyage toward discovery. And yet in his arms, with his mouth on hers and his body desperately calling out to hers, all that seemed frivolous and unimportant. In Joe’s arms, instinct took precedence over art, intuition over expertise. She became a woman on a mission, a woman whose only objective now was to please her man.

  And he was her man. For this moment, Joe Mountain belonged to her and she to him. She clung to him, her mouth wild, her hands restless. She knew only too well how quickly everything could be snatched away, how in the space of a heartbeat one world could end just as another began and she wanted to grab up as much of Joe Mountain as she could. He was the world as she knew it, the sun, the moon, the past and the present. He was real, he was now and she wanted him more than she wanted back all that had been taken away from her.

  “Rain,” he growled. “I won’t let you go. You’re mine. You’re mine.”

  He hauled her up, lifting her off her feet, his lips trailing a line of wet kisses along her neck and shoulder. The nightshirt had slipped up and somehow his hands had found their way inside, touching her bare skin.

  She had no sensation of moving, no awareness they had moved until she felt edge of the counter against her back.

  His hands were wild on her, moving beneath the nightshirt finding her thighs, her hips. In one smooth motion, he tore the shirt from her, his lips finding her breasts and savoring them.

  When he lifted her up, she heard the sound of the dishes falling into the sink, felt the cold tile of the counter against her skin. She tugged at his shirt until blissfully it disappeared. She didn’t know if she had torn it off or if he had taken it off, nor did she care. The only thing that was important was that her hands were free to move over him.

  But soon that wasn’t enough. She grew hungrier until the need in her threatened her very sanity.

  “Joe.”

  His name tore from her lips like a plea for mercy. She was in pain, in dire need. She wanted him—madly, desperately, fervently. She could hardly think, could barely breathe. She had to have Joe Mountain, she had to or she wouldn’t survive.

  “Joe,” she groaned again. “Joe, I want you.”

  The sound that came from his throat didn’t sound human. It came from a more primitive time, from a more primal place. Like a hunter stalking his prey, his focus was on her to the exclusion of all else. He whispered something in her ear, strange, exotic-sounding words that seemed to float around her like a misty cloud, filling her lungs, her skin, her blood with an intoxicating vapor. It was a chant that told a story of nature, of creation and of the cravings of mind and body.

  Frenzy became frantic. There was no time for seduction, no room for enticements and declarations. His mouth had savaged hers, and his hands had become lethal.

  In a move that brooked no resistance, he pulled her to him, shoving into her in one, smooth stroke.

  “Joe.”

  “Rain.”

  The names escaped into the mist around her, intertwining, coupling into the atmosphere. Her world had become a brilliant place filled with stars and moons and a sun of many faces, a place where time didn’t matter and the past didn’t exist. He had named her and now he had claimed her. She was Rain—his Rain—and he had become all elements to her. She didn’t know who she’d been in the past, she didn’t know who she would be in the future. But for now she was Rain and if ecstasy had a name it would be Joe.

  There was an instant when the world had ceased to exist. In that millisecond of peace at the end of a heartbeat before the start of the another, all that there was had come to a halt in reverence. He was in Rain, and he had never known a pleasure so pure, so genuine, so absolute. What was happening was not only mind shattering, it was mind altering and Joe knew in that one, precious flash that he would never be the same again.

  Within her he was whole, at one—with God, with Nature, with the universe of Man. He had found his way up and out of the underworld, had touched One Mother, had become new, reborn. He had found his place amongst the ancients, his place in the cosmos, the place he belonged.

  The journey sent them both flying, climbing higher and higher toward that ultimate goal. He held on as long as he could, grasped at the last shred of reason, the last thread of sanity. But when he heard her cry of pleasure, when he felt her body wrench and writhe in ecstasy, he could restrain himself no longer. The end came in a radiant burst as he let himself go, freeing himself of the last vestiges of all that was tangible and was hurled into a vortex of bliss.

  It was a long time before he could move, before sky and firmament took shape again and he was able to place the world around him. He didn’t want to question what had happened, didn’t want to think about cause or consequence. He just wanted to savor the moment, savor the feel of her in his arms.

  He could feel her breath on his shoulder, could feel her heart beating against his chest and guilt tasted bitter in his mouth. She deserved to be pampered and indulged, soothed and placated and yet he had all but tossed her down and ravished her on the spot.

  Gathering her close, he lifted her off the counter and into his arms.

  “Wh-where are we going?” she murmured sleepily against his shoulder.

  “To put you to bed,” he said, moving through the house on legs that were less than steady.

  She lifted her head, looking up at him. “Stay with me?”

  She looked so beautiful something tightened in his chest. Leaning down, he kissed her.

  “For as lon
g as you want me.”

  They made love in his bed, the bed he had shared with Karen, the bed she had brought another man to. But all that didn’t matter now. It was over, done with, long past. Now it was their bed—his and Rain’s. They were together and that was all that mattered.

  With the frenzy satisfied, with the hunger appeased, he was able to take time with her, to lure and to tempt her, captivate and seduce. She was like a flower, delicate and unique and yet there was a strength and a durability to her spirit that he could only admire. He touched her and kissed her, his hands playing across her beautiful body like a master musician with his favorite instrument. He urged her slowly, gently, profoundly to the final crescendo, needs playing louder and louder until form became frenzy and they burst together into the blissful void once again. Drifting, they floated together, hovering between sleep and wakefulness, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  He realized then it was time to face facts. With her in his arms, in his bed, he couldn’t deny the truth that stared him right in the face. What he felt for Rain was more than admiration, more than desire and simple lust. Right or wrong, for better or for worse, he had fallen in love.

  He’d tried to caution himself, had tried to temper his feelings and protect himself with the fact that someday she would recover her memories and return to the life from which she came. But his precautions had done little good.

  Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret any of it. The damage was already done. He loved her and even if that meant it had to end badly, he would savor what he’d been given and be grateful. He would be there for her as long as she needed him, even if that meant that someday he would have to let her go.

  “Thank you.”

  He opened his eyes, gazing down at her and feeling her stir in his arms. “You’re silly. What are you thanking me for?”

  She closed her eyes, sighing deeply. “For this.” She opened her eyes. “For everything.”