Raising Rain

by Debbie Fuller Thomas

  She wondered again what her biological father was like. Would her childhood have been dramatically different if she’d had a dad around? Perhaps Jude would have been a better mom with someone else around to share the load. Even someone to love her. Or maybe they would have fought. Probably, they would have fought. Maybe Jude had been lonely or scared and all her harshness was only bluster.

  When Rain looked at the way her mom raised a child on her own, what made her think she would be any different? As she’d heard Bebe’s mom say before, the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree.

  Neil tossed the morning paper onto the kitchen table in front of Bebe and poured himself a cup of coffee. “There’s enough for one more cup,” he said.

  “No, thanks, I’ve had enough,” she answered. She scanned the headlines while she ate her blueberry yogurt. The aftertaste of the coffee lent it an unpleasant tang. Almost every day, somewhere in the world there was a car bombing or an assassination or a government being overthrown. Her attention focused on a story about the probability of sending more troops into Afghanistan. She spread out the paper on the table, folding it back to read the article.

  Neil sat down across from her and pulled out the sports section. He glanced up to see what she was reading. “You shouldn’t dwell on that.” He opened the paper to the second page and folded it back. “This isn’t Vietnam.”

  Bebe swirled her yogurt with her spoon. “I just don’t want Scotty to go through what happened to Bobby.”

  He looked up from the football stats. “You’re not responsible for that,” Neil said. “Scotty knows he has our support. We can’t answer for the others.”

  “I know, but it’s my job to worry.” She got up and tossed her empty yogurt container, rinsing her spoon and coffee mug in the sink. “Come to think of it, he didn’t call last weekend. I wonder what he’s doing.”

  “I think it’s the three-day war. He said it’s a simulation training.”

  She slipped into her coat. “I’ll feel better when we hear from him. Are you watching the time?”

  He looked up from the paper and glanced at the wall clock. “I’ve got to swing by The Lone Star Ranch before I go in.” He got up, leaving the paper in a heap on the kitchen table. “Come with me.”

  She grabbed her purse. “I have appointments this morning.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “Come on. Let Janice cover for you. She needs the practice.”

  “You’re bad. But you’re cute.” She kissed him and playfully pushed him away. “See you at the office,” she said, as she went out the door.

  Bebe had a long morning of consultations and follow-up appointments that went right through the lunch hour. Even though the office was closed from noon to one thirty, she had paperwork and e-mails to catch up on. Neil brought them back some lunch when he returned from a ranch visit, and they ate it at their desks, sitting back-to-back.

  One of the perks of going into veterinary medicine was having classes with Neil. He immediately recognized her from the thrift store the first year, and sat beside her in molecular biology. He moved in with her and Jude the next. Of course, her family never knew. By then, Toni was in grad school in Los Angeles, and Mare had moved in with Arnie. It left just the three of them and Rain.

  Rain was a great buffer. She called Neil “Daddy” until Jude nipped it. Mare married Arnie when she was seven months pregnant with Autumn. Once again they had parties, except that the parties were now for birthdays and involved balloons and cake. Jude moved out in June when she finished law school, taking Rain with her. Rain had just completed first grade, and Bebe and Neil both mourned for months.

  They got married that September, having graduated from veterinary school, and moved to the foothills above Sacramento to enter a practice. They hated moving that far from Rain, but they arranged for her to spend weekends with them as often as Jude and their schedules would allow. Bebe agonized over whether Rain understood that it wasn’t always their choice whether or not they got to see her.

  The fact that she married Neil actually elevated her in her parents’ esteem. He was a doctor, never mind that she was a doctor, too. She’d married well, and that helped to erase some of her stigma. Some, but never all.

  They were married in her small church in the Central Valley on a Saturday afternoon with a few close friends and members of church who had watched her grow up since she’d been a baby in the nursery. The only thing she truly hated about the wedding was that the pastor refused to call her “Bebe,” but insisted on addressing her as Roberta. She had specifically asked him before the ceremony not to use her given name, and when he said, “Do you, Roberta, take this man,” she almost stopped and corrected him. But she knew that she was treading on thinly veiled ice with her parents, and for her mom’s sake, she swallowed her pride.

  Her name wouldn’t have been so bad, except that she was named after her father, as was Bobby. She had secretly railed against it growing up. How self-absorbed could a man be to name two children after himself? She felt thankful to Bobby for her nickname. It was his childish attempts at saying her name that produced “Bebe.” And much to her father’s dismay, it had stuck.

  Bebe chuckled when she saw the chart in the door pocket of room six. Margo and Gigi Weinbrenner. Margo was an overweight silver tabby that reminded her of an aging bon-bon eating secretary of the forties with markings like rhinestone glasses and nails like stilettos. Gigi was a Siamese mix with the sleek furtiveness of a French resistance fighter, who only preened when she had an agenda, like food or freedom. They were here for boosters and to have Margo’s nails clipped. Bebe knocked on the door briefly and entered the examining room, greeting their “mommy” over the howls emanating from the cat carriers. She noted that Mrs. Weinbrenner had deep scratches on both arms.

  “Did you get those from Gigi?”

  “Yes. She didn’t mean it, did you, sweetie?” the woman said, reaching a finger through the metal door to rub beneath Gigi’s neck. Gigi hissed and moved to the back of the carrier. “You didn’t want to go into your nasty cat carrier, did you,” Gigi’s mommy baby-talked.

  Bebe briefly examined the red welting scratches. Faint white scars crisscrossed beneath the fresh ones. “I hope you treated those.”

  “I always do,” she said, smiling.

  “Okay, let’s start with Gigi,” Bebe said.

  Mrs. Weinbrenner looked at her, expectant. Then she said, “Oh, should I get her out?”

  Bebe nodded and the woman hesitantly reached for the door latch. “Nice Gigi,” she crooned, “Mommy’s going to let you out now.”

  When she opened the carrier door Gigi darted, but Bebe grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck and she went limp.

  “I don’t know how you manage to do that,” Mrs. Weinbrenner said. “All I get are bites and scratches for my trouble.”

  “It takes practice. I sometimes get those, too,” Bebe answered, examining Gigi for ear mites and checking her gums. “Does she have trouble with fleas?”

  “I would never allow fleas in my house.”

  Satisfied with Gigi’s overall condition, she gave the howling cat her boosters and tucked her back inside the carrier. Margo was surprisingly more compliant, and purred when Bebe scratched behind her ears. They were soon finished and Mrs. Weinbrenner was on her way. Bebe wondered if she would practice picking Gigi up by the scruff of her neck.

  Later, she called Rain about setting up a date to take her to lunch for her birthday, and to ask her what she would like. The answers were “next Saturday” and “a perfect life,” which Bebe chuckled at, and said she would come up with something more practical.

  Before Saturday, Bebe went shopping at Dress Barn and found a pretty sweater in autumn colors that would enhance Rain’s skin tone perfectly. She wanted Rain to feel pampered a little, and she knew that considering Jude’s state, William may or may not remember to even send her a gift certificate.

  They met at the Olive Garden for lunch on Satur
day and she made Rain open the gift before they ordered their food. A slow smile lifted Rain’s face.

  “Bebe, this is beautiful. You didn’t have to.”

  “Of course, I did. I wanted you to have a nice birthday. There’s a gift receipt in case you don’t like the color or it doesn’t fit.”

  “No, I love the color. And it should fit fine. Thank you.”

  “Do you have any plans to celebrate?”

  “Lisa from work wants to take me out. If I don’t come up with something, she’ll want to go clubbing.”

  “Aren’t you two a little old for that? Oops! Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Well, I am. She’s younger than me, but she’s been married for three years. I don’t know how she gets past Lyle.”

  “Isn’t the point of clubbing to meet guys?”

  “Yes. Twenty-something guys. Guys who are definitely not interested in having kids.” Rain dug in her purse, produced a vibrating cell phone, and took note of the number. “It’s her,” she said, without answering it. “I’ll have to come up with something soon. I think she sees it as her duty to get me hooked up with someone else. She already tried to play Cupid at work.”

  They spent a nice lunch together and Bebe invited her to join them at her parents’ house for Thanksgiving, if she didn’t have plans to visit her mother. Rain said she would let her know.

  Bebe didn’t bring up Hayden, and neither did Rain. In fact, Rain didn’t have much to say at all. Bebe wondered if she had some depression going on. It would only be natural, considering all that was happening. The holidays were coming and her outlook had the potential to worsen. She gave her a big hug and a kiss when they parted at their cars, and prayed for her as she pulled away.

  Bebe wondered how things would have turned out differently for Rain, if she had been her mother instead of Jude.

  Rain looked around at home for the tickets, but came up emptyhanded. She finally screwed up her courage and left a voice mail on Hayden’s cell phone, asking if he had picked them up when he came by the house that day. She didn’t know if he would remember about her birthday, and she could have played that card, but when he called, he was gracious about the tickets, and there was no mention made of her birthday. He said they were in the second drawer of the file cabinet. She wondered if he even remembered they had purchased them, or if he was sorry he hadn’t thought of them first.

  The next day, Rain caught up with Lisa on the way into the office from the parking lot.

  “The Trans-Siberian Orchestra?” Lisa repeated to Rain when she told her of her birthday plans. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. I have tickets for two great seats. Have you ever seen them in concert?”

  Lisa scrunched her forehead. “No, Lyle’s more into Rush.”

  “They put on a great show, with pyrotechnics and lasers and . . . well, you just have to see it. It’s incredible.”

  “I was hoping for something more—”

  “I’m not interested in clubbing, Lisa.” Rain held the door open for her. “This is what I want to do. It’s next weekend. Are you in or out?”

  “I’m in. Of course, I’m in. Whatever you want.” She said over her shoulder as she turned down the aisle to her cubicle, “It’ll be fun.”

  They had a great time at the Trans-Siberian concert, once it got under way. Rain felt some melancholy going in, but the feeling dissipated with the visual spectacle and the dramatic music filling her senses. Lisa was impressed from the opening number and Rain knew the group had made a new fan.

  At intermission, Rain’s heart skipped when she thought she saw Hayden with a woman. It was the gray Burberry sports coat that he wore on special occasions, and the same unruly curls around his ears, but it turned out not to be him, after all. Regardless, the melancholy descended once more. Just last year, Hayden had been seated beside her, holding her hand. She suddenly missed the safe feeling of his hand dwarfing hers, his arm around her shoulder, the lingering scent of his aftershave. Her eyes unexpectedly filled and she quickly looked away so Lisa wouldn’t see and feel like she had to fix it. It couldn’t be fixed—this missing of Hayden and the way she’d felt contented only with him before she felt the loss of a baby.

  Rain felt more relaxed and optimistic on this second visit to the fertility clinic. She went early to make arrangements through their financial office, and proceeded to her appointment.

  Dr. Sykes gave Rain an exam and an ultrasound. Soon she was dressed and sitting in his office, discussing the results.

  “No abnormalities were detected in the uterus, the fallopian tubes, or the ovaries. Nor did the ultrasound show any pelvic scarring, which we sometimes see. Your antral follicle count is in the intermediate range.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “The follicle is the housing for the egg. The higher the count, the more eggs you have remaining. As I said, it gives us an estimate to work with. The intermediate range means that treatment could go either way. We could get a very low or a good response. But the pregnancy rates are pretty good overall in this group.”

  Rain felt the tension drain away from her and realized she’d been clenching her jaw all morning.

  Dr. Sykes prescribed a medication to initiate day-3 FSH testing, and Rain left the office encouraged. She followed through with the medication and had blood tests done on the third and tenth days.

  She went back for her follow-up visit fearing, yet yearning, to embrace her future. If the news was bad, she would know she had lost Hayden for nothing.

  Dr. Sykes reviewed her lab tests. Her FSH level was a 12, borderline between fair and reduced ovarian reserve, and he prescribed gonadotropins by injection, which she would have to give herself nightly. The mere suggestion of shots made her light-headed. She heard him tell her through a distant tunnel about the headaches, abdominal pain, and increased risk of miscarriage that were typical side effects. He asked the nurse to explain how to administer the shots.

  That night, Rain sat in the middle of her bed, drying her sweating palms on the comforter. She flicked the vial and depressed the plunger to dispel the air bubbles like the nurse had demonstrated, and stuck the needle into her thigh. She sucked air at the initial pain and tried not to succumb to the roaring in her ears. At least if she passed out, as she usually did with needles, she wouldn’t fall and break the needle off in her leg.

  If this didn’t prove her devotion to having a baby, nothing did.

  Bebe was pleasantly surprised that Rain agreed to stop by her parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner. She sounded upbeat on the phone. Bebe didn’t ask for any details, but she could tell that Rain felt better than she had at her birthday lunch.

  Dylan drove home after his morning class on the day before Thanksgiving, dropped off his stuff at the house, and swung by the clinic to surprise them. Bebe was just finishing up a suture removal when she heard his voice out in the seating area. By the time she was done with the patient, he had caught up with the office staff. She hugged him and they talked briefly before her next appointment. Neil was out on another farm call. She pulled out a twenty and asked Dylan to run by the grocery store for some evaporated milk and a can of pumpkin. She reminded him to drop off the ingredients at the house before he went off with his friends. She didn’t want to have to wait to bake her pumpkin pie at midnight, in case he came back late.

  The next morning, Bebe watched the Thanksgiving Day Parade while she chopped vegetables for Rain’s favorite salad. Her mother’s cooking generally included cream and butter and lots of eggs, and she knew Rain didn’t eat much dairy—except for ice cream, for which she had a definite weakness. She kept her cell phone in her pocket in case they got a call from Scotty. He had written that he’d requested to be adopted by a family in the area around the base for Thanksgiving dinner, and that he would call sometime that day, but didn’t know when.

  They spent an enjoyable day with her family, though she was always mindful that Scotty was missing from their celebr
ation. She felt a guilty relief that Bobby was not among them, until Karen asked where he was.

  “He’s in San Diego,” her mother said. “He has some business down there, and he said he might try to visit Scotty.”

  Bebe glanced from her mother to Neil. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, cautioning her not to overreact. She determined that she would call Scotty later, if she didn’t hear from him.

  Neil insisted on helping to clear the table and taking out the trash. He wouldn’t allow Dylan and his cousins to watch the Seattle Seahawks play the Dallas Cowboys until they helped to take down the extra table and chairs and carry them to the garage. Bebe noticed that Rain watched the interaction between them, and she wondered if Rain missed having a father, or was taking stock of what made a good dad.

  Later that evening, Bebe phoned Scotty but was disappointed when she was sent to voice mail. She left a Thanksgiving greeting, and several minutes later, he called back.

  “Hi, Mom. I saw that you called me, but there’s only one spot in the squad bay that gets good reception, so I had to call you back.”

  “We missed you at Grandma’s today, Scotty. Did you get to have dinner with a family?”

  “Yeah, I was paired up with my buddy Stockman, and we ate dinner with a family in Oceanside. But she wasn’t as good a cook as you.”

  Bebe glowed at his praise, in spite of herself. “It’s all in what you’re used to. Her family probably thinks she’s a good cook. Did you just get back?”