Loving the Rain

by Jeff LaFerney

  Loving the Rain

  by

  Jeff LaFerney

  World Castle Publishing

  http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  World Castle Publishing

  Pensacola, Florida

  Copyright © Jeff LaFerney 2010

  ISBN: 9781937593681

  First Edition Jeff LaFerney June 2010

  Second Edition World Castle Publishing December 15, 2011

  http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

  Licensing Notes

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

  Editor: Beth Price

  Dedication

  I’d like to dedicate the publishing of this book to my past, present, and future students at Davison Community Schools. I’ve had and will continue to have such a rewarding experience working with kids, but I came to the realization that while challenging you, maybe I also had something more to offer. I began to consider stretching myself, wondering if maybe I was not living up to my own potential. I don’t know if completing this project will inspire you, but I’m certain that you have inspired me. I hope many of you will read this novel, and it will influence you to reach your own goals.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to give thanks to God who gave me the tools, the ideas, and the abilities to write this first book of mine. I would like to give special thanks to my wife, Jennifer, who has been patient and supportive throughout this project, and who helped me with my initial editing and gave me an idea that I ran with. I love you. Thanks go to my kids, Torey and Teryn, who simply are awesome kids; I’m very fortunate to be blessed by the two of you. I thank my parents, as well, who read my manuscript, and as always, encouraged and supported me in this project. I’m grateful for your guidance and constant love. I get most of my confidence from the two of you. Thanks also go out to Dallas, Andrea, Trish, and Susan, who all willingly volunteered to read my novel when the first draft was complete and gave support, encouragement, advice, and/or revision suggestions to me. Finally, thanks, Thad, for your medical insights. I am grateful for my friends.

  Prologue

  (October, 1986) When the National Anthem concluded, the fans clapped politely and then focused their attention on the two football teams that gathered on their opposite sidelines. The red, orange, and yellow leaves of the trees surrounding the football field were occasionally fluttering to the ground, propelled by a cool, autumn breeze. It was a Friday in mid-October and Okemos High School and Haslett High School were playing a non-league football game. Jack Harding leaped into the air, a single index finger extended skyward as he ran out with the kick coverage team for the Okemos Chiefs, a high school just east of Lansing, Michigan. He placed the kicking tee on the forty-yard line and prepared to boot the opening kickoff. Clay Thomas puffed his cheeks and blew a stream of white vapor between his facemask bars as he trotted out with the return team for the Haslett Vikings, a high school about five and a half miles away. There was a great crowd turnout for the neighboring schools, and there was excitement in the air.

  Clay was a widely known pre-season all-state linebacker as well as a terrifying blocker and runner from his fullback position. Jack happened to be a very good soccer player who was convinced to perform double duty as the kicker for his high school team, but a first-year kicker’s reputation doesn’t go as far as a three-year star linebacker’s, so, though Jack knew of Clay, Clay did not know of Jack. An excited cheer rose from the crowd as Jack approached the tee and booted a long kickoff. The Haslett kick returner received the football on the six yard line and headed up field behind his blockers. He wound his way toward the mid-field sideline, following Clay. An excited cheer began to rise from the Haslett cheering section as Jack Harding quickly became the last remaining obstacle standing in the way of a long kickoff return. Clay Thomas focused in on Jack and made a crushing block that literally sent him airborne to land on his back near mid-field. Haslett’s returner sprinted the remaining fifty yards, escorted by Clay, and scored a touchdown on the opening kick. Jack Harding lay curled on his side for a good five minutes, trying with great difficulty to breathe.

  There had been an explosion of fan noise as Jack was pummeled, followed immediately by laughter from many of the lesser mature Haslett fans. Jack had managed to roll over to witness the celebration of Clay’s teammates, and a few minutes later had to endure the embarrassing sympathy cheer of the crowd as he was helped off the field. The pain, sounds, and images became permanently burned into Jack Harding’s mind. But that early game experience was nothing in comparison to what happened at the end of the game. The score was tied with just four seconds on the clock and the ball on Haslett’s seven yard line. It would be just a 24 yard field goal to win the game, and Jack hadn’t missed a field goal of any length throughout six season contests. Haslett’s coach called for a time-out before the snap to freeze the kicker, so both teams headed off the field to their opposite benches.

  Jack Harding walked over to Clay. In the cocky way that he had perfected, Jack said, “Looks like you’re gonna lose, Thomas.”

  Clay Thomas was not an ordinary high school teenager. He had discovered the ability to manipulate minds and literally make people do what he wanted. But Clay didn’t ordinarily use his powers to influence the minds and behavior of other people. He had an inherent sense that keeping his powers and his secret to himself was a very wise course of action. Jack Harding, however, had just given him good motivation to alter those values, so he looked Jack in the eyes and said very calmly, “You will never make this field goal. You can’t make it.” Then off the field he jogged.

  As the teams lined up for the last play of the game, Okemos’s kicker was sweating. Something in his head kept saying, “You can’t make it.” He made eye contact with Clay Thomas at his outside linebacker’s position, and he heard in his head once again, “You will never make it.” As the perfect snap arrived in the holder’s hands and a perfect hold was placed on the ground, Jack Harding stepped and swung his kicking foot. In his nervousness and uncertainty, he almost missed the football. It squirted off the toe of his cleat at about a 25 degree angle to the right. Opportunistically, Clay Thomas managed to scoop up the ball and started running for the opposite end zone. Only one player had any chance of tackling Clay—Jack Harding. Clay reached out and gave Jack a stiff-arm that sent him tumbling head over heels, his right-footed kicking cleat flying up in the air. With no time remaining, Clay ran the ball all the way for a touchdown and a six-point win. Jack Harding was humiliated, and it was a humiliation that he would never be able to shake.

  ***

  (January, 1987) Lansing area weather reports were predicting a heavy snowfall, but a large crowd was nonetheless in attendance as Clay Thomas’s Haslett Vikings and Jack Harding’s Okemos Chiefs returned to the court after a time-out near the end of the second quarter. As his team prepared for the non-league basketball game, Jack’s coach had discussed a game plan that mentioned Clay Thomas, who was the third leading scorer in his conference. Jack’s name was never mentioned in Clay’s practice preparation for Okemos. Three cheerleaders completed round offs and several back handsprings before scampering off the court. There was just 1:12 left in the second quarter of a very close game when Jack attempted a pass to a teammate. The home Haslett crowd erupted as Clay stole the pass and headed to the opposite end for a layup. Jack
, who was still ticked off about the duel humiliations at the hands of Clay three months earlier, sprinted back and angrily shoved him in the hip as he released his shot. The referee immediately blew his whistle as the shot banked off the glass and teetered on the rim before falling through the net. Jack was called for a flagrant foul, giving Clay two free throws and the ball out of bounds.

  With time running down in the fourth quarter, however, Jack’s Okemos Chiefs still managed to be ahead by three points. When a Viking teammate drove to the basket and missed a layup, Clay jumped for the offensive rebound. He cradled the ball in his right hand and threw down a thunderous dunk. The ball flew through the rim and net and bounded off Jack Harding’s forehead. Clay hung on the rim for a brief second and then dropped to the floor, landing face-to-face with Jack, who aggressively shoved his opponent in the chest. A referee quickly stepped between the two boys, then blew his whistle and signaled a technical foul.

  The referee reported the foul to the official scorer and then cleared the end of the court for Clay’s free throws. There was only three seconds remaining in the game. Jack’s coach angrily yelled, “You idiot! You couldn’t possibly have made a more boneheaded play, Jack! What were you thinking? That temper of yours might’ve just cost us the game!”

  “He’s a jerk, Coach. He deserved it.”

  Clay proceeded to make both free throws, putting Haslett ahead by a single point. The coach’s screaming and berating continued without pause until the ball was set to be inbounded. He then grabbed a handful of jersey and literally hurled a substitute toward the scorer’s table in an attempt to replace Jack.

  The horn sounded at the scorer’s table, but the referee jogged over to the bench. “It’s too late to send your substitute into the game, Coach. He didn’t report in on time.”

  The coach was fuming, but Jack had to stay in the game. He composed himself enough to match up defensively with his man. Haslett’s inbounds passer was unable to find an open man and panicked. His poor pass was deflected by an Okemos player and incredibly ended up in Jack’s hands with only two seconds remaining on the clock, and a Haslett defender foolishly reached in and was called for a foul that would send Jack to the free throw line for a redeeming chance to win the game. Jack Harding then made another colossal mental blunder. He walked up to Clay and said, “Guess we’re gonna win anyway.”

  Clay responded without much thought. It never even occurred to him that this was the same moronic kicker that boasted during the football game. Because Clay’s conscience didn’t bother him so much when he was dealing with idiots, he made careful eye contact with the fool from Haslett and very calmly said, “You know that you will not make your free throws.”

  Jack tried to shake off the amazing doubt he immediately felt, so he said, “I’ll make ’em.”

  Clay didn’t even speak. Just using his mind, his thoughts communicated, “You will NEVER make them.”

  Jack stepped to the free throw line for a one-and-one and nervously prepared to shoot. “I’m gonna miss,” he thought. He took a deep breath, tried his best to relax, and then proceeded to leave the shot at least eight inches short of the rim, a ridiculous air ball. But the game wasn’t over because the referee called a lane violation on the Vikings, three players having stepped into the free throw lane, not expecting the ball to miss the rim completely, and Jack got a second chance. Chants of “Air ball! Air ball!” came from Haslett’s student section as teenagers wrapped fingers around their necks and made gagging and choking gestures. As Jack nervously prepared for another try, he could not shake the unmistakable belief that he had no hope of making the free throw. Before the attempt, Jack told himself, “Don’t be short again.” He bounced the ball several times, took another deep breath, and launched his second free throw. The shot was so long and left, that it bounced off the backboard before bounding high into the air off the left side of the rim. A teammate of Jack’s tipped it back up in the air, starting the game clock, and when the ball came down, Clay jumped high, grabbed it with his elbows out and landed, as the horn sounded, with an elbow squarely on the bridge of Jack Harding’s nose, breaking the bone instantly. Clay celebrated with his team, never having even known he hit Jack. Meanwhile, Jack stalked off the floor, his nose bleeding, while both teams shook hands. Clay never gave Jack another thought. As he exited the floor, Jack couldn’t help but hear the laughter and jeers and see the scorn of his teammates.

  Harding was forced to miss three games because of the injury and was pulled from the starting lineup for the remainder of the season, two facts that he blamed on Clay and for which he never forgave him. The two encounters that Clay Thomas had with Jack Harding completely escaped Clay’s memory, but Jack would never forget.

  ***

  (January 1992) Jessie Thomas drove herself to the hospital emergency wing and pulled right behind a paramedic’s ambulance before stumbling out of her car. Two paramedics saw the pregnant woman as she temporarily lost consciousness on the pavement just steps from her car door. They rushed immediately to the fallen woman. Jessie awakened and appeared confused. She was breathing rapidly as a paramedic checked her pulse. When he felt her cool, clammy skin and noticed her pale skin color, he said, “Looks like hypovolemic shock. We need to get her inside now!” The emergency technicians placed Jessie on a gurney and quickly rolled her through the emergency room doors. The paramedic called out, “Tech to the front!” The triage nurse appeared immediately. “Call in stat for L and D!”

  As she was rushed to the elevator in route to Labor and Delivery, the other paramedic said, “I need to ask a couple of questions, okay? Could you tell me your name and age?”

  “It’s Jessie. Jessie Thomas,” she managed to reply. “I’m 21.”

  “How many weeks pregnant are you?”

  “Just 30…I’m not due for almost two months,” she barely managed to answer.

  The paramedic instructed the triage nurse. “Call up. We have a 21-year-old female, 30 weeks pregnant. She appears to be in hypovolemic shock.”

  “You need to call, Clay. Please, call my husband…something’s wrong! I think I’m having the baby!” Jessie weakly cried out.

  ***

  In Labor and Delivery, they removed maternity clothing and were preparing an ultrasound when the nurse exclaimed, “I see a foot. The baby’s breech!” She instructed another nurse, “Notify Dr. Nordstrum in O.R. We have a breech birth!” With no hesitation, Jessie was rushed to the operating room.

  ***

  While the check-in nurse in the emergency room was dialing for Clay Thomas, he unexpectedly appeared at the window. “My wife, Jessie Thomas, was just rushed in. What’s wrong?”

  Clay was immediately directed to Labor and Delivery, who then directed him to the O.R. waiting room.

  While filling out paperwork, he waited impatiently for nearly an hour for news about his wife and baby. Finally Dr. Nordstrum appeared and spoke with Clay. “Mr. Thomas, I’m Dr. Nordstrum.”

  Clay jumped to his feet. “Are my wife and baby okay?”

  “We had to perform an emergency C-section on your wife. It was a difficult delivery, and there were complications, but both your wife and your son are okay for now.”

  “My son? We had a boy?” Clay was obviously proud, but then the words “for now” sunk in. “What do you mean?”

  “Please, sit down, Mr. Thomas.” Clay and the doctor both took seats. “The baby was breech. That is more likely for pre-term babies like yours. I assume you and your wife knew the baby was breech?”

  “Yes, but we expected it to turn eventually. She wasn’t due for almost two months.”

  “Well, her water broke, and unfortunately she went into labor. She was admitted in hypovolemic shock. While in Labor and Delivery, a foot emerged, but it was clear that her cervix had not dilated enough for the baby’s head to make it, so she was rushed to the O.R. and we performed the emergency Cesarean section. When we removed the little guy, you may be interested in hearing, his right arm was extended alongsid
e his head in perfect shooting position, just like a jump shot,” the doctor smiled.

  Clay couldn’t resist smiling himself. Then he frowned. “There were complications.”

  “Two complications actually,” the doctor replied. “In about 15 to 18 percent of footling breeches, the child is born with a prolapsed umbilical cord. The cord was wrapped around the baby’s throat when we removed him. We had to revive the child. Oxygen deprivation had clearly occurred from cord prolapse, and if oxygen deprivation is prolonged—and there’s no way of telling how long he was oxygen deprived—it may cause permanent neurological damage. Only time will tell with your son.” There was a pause. “The other complication is with your wife. In this kind of emergency birth, there’s always risk of injury to the mother’s internal organs. In Jessie’s case, the integrity of the myometrial wall was breached. Her uterus was ruptured. We had to perform an emergency hysterectomy. We didn’t remove her ovaries, but your wife won’t be able to have other children.”

  ***

  In time, Clay was able to see Jessie in the recovery room. The moment she saw Clay, she started weeping. “Is our baby gonna be all right?”

  “The doctor said only time’ll tell, but he’s beautiful, Jessie. He’s so little, but he’s perfect. Did the doctor tell you,” Clay asked in an attempt to cheer up his wife, “he was delivered in perfect shooting form? He’s gonna be a ballplayer, you wait and see.”

  She cried louder instead. “I wanted lots of kids, Clay, and so did you. I’m so sorry.”

  Clay was a high school baseball coach, so the idea of not being able to provide a team full of kids for her husband to coach had left Jessie distraught. She was more than upset, she was anguished, and even though Clay himself was deeply hurting from the events he had just witnessed, he couldn’t bear to see the woman he loved in such misery. When she continued to blame and torture herself, Clay had finally had enough. The things he had seen had saddened him in a way from which he wasn’t sure he could recover, but he simply couldn’t let the woman he loved continue to torment herself. Clay knew he had the power to change things, and though he would have to break a promise that he had made to himself when he met Jessie, he was compelled to manipulate her mind.