Hard Rain

by Darlene Scalera

  “It was the last time you saw him.”

  “The accident happened shortly after. He was on the job with his father when a gas tank exploded. His father was killed instantly. Jesse was almost killed trying to save him. The trauma to his face required extensive reconstructive surgery. You wouldn’t recognize him.”

  Her mother sat quietly for a few minutes. “Is he all right now?”

  “All in all, his recovery is remarkable. At first, the doctors didn’t think he’d ever walk again. He’ll never be the star quarterback he was in high school, but other than the scarring and a tendency to favor his right side when he gets tired, he’s okay.” Amy leaned in. “That’s why he never contacted me after I saw him that last time. He said he was afraid I’d give up my scholarship, my schooling.”

  “You would have, you know.”

  “Probably. But I can’t help but think that if he had really loved me, he would have trusted our love to find a way.”

  “Maybe it did,” her mother said gently.

  Amy considered. “Maybe. I just don’t think he should have made the decision for me.”

  “You were eighteen, Amy. How could you have known what you wanted? You would have screwed up your life forever. Scraping by paycheck to paycheck in some dead-end job, taking care of a cripple.”

  Her mother had averted her gaze from Amy and was picking at a loose thread on the arm of the chair. Finally their eyes met.

  “You knew,” Amy said, an edge in her voice. “All this time, you knew what happened to him. You knew about the accident, his father’s death. All these years, you let me think he’d abandoned me.” Fury choked her voice.

  Her mother sat very still, her hands folded in her lap, her face expressionless as she submitted to her daughter’s accusations. She waited, allowing Amy to continue as if she owed her daughter that much. Amy was seething, but she had enough presence of mind not to speak further and say something in the heat of anger that she would regret later. After several silent seconds, her mother spoke.

  “The hospital contacted me. He’d given them your name and number. I knew you would give up everything and go to him. I went to see him instead. I asked him to let you go, to give you the opportunity to go to school, become a doctor, make something of yourself. You had worked so hard for your scholarship.”

  Amy sat stone-faced.

  “He agreed. I didn’t know about the baby then. No one did until months later. By then, Jesse had been transferred to another hospital. Even if I could have found him, how were you going to go to med school with a baby and a crippled husband?”

  Amy stood. “He had a right to know about his son. Just as I had a right to know about the accident. Damn it, Mom. Even I don’t try to play God.”

  “I wasn’t trying to play God. But I was your mother, and I did what I thought was best for you. So you told him about Ian?”

  Amy exhaled a long breath. She sank back down onto the ottoman. “No. At first, I didn’t know it was him, and then when I did find out, I was so angry. Then the hurricane struck and I got the radio call about Aunt Betts. I didn’t even get a chance to say good-bye.” She looked wearily at her mother. “You know, seven years ago he tried to call me.”

  “What happened?”

  “Malcolm answered the phone.”

  Her mother’s hand lifted slightly, then curled into a ball as if she knew her daughter would not welcome her touch. Amy looked at her mother’s fisted hand. Her hands had been taught to comfort, but they did not reach out now. Her mother’s fear was justified.

  “What are you going to do now?” Peg asked.

  “I already told Ian about his father. All’s left now is for me to tell Jesse about his son. It’s not the kind of news I want to break over the phone though. As soon as I can, I’m going to fly to Texas.”

  “How’d Ian take the news?”

  Amy smiled. “Pretty well considering. He’s curious of course. I’m sure he’s experiencing a lot of other emotions, but you know Ian. He’s always been mature for his age.”

  “The little man of the house,” her mother commented.

  About to suggest to her mother that it could have been otherwise, Amy bit her tongue. Her anger was still too high, her emotions too raw.

  “So, he didn’t mention anything to you about his father tonight?” Amy asked.

  Peg shook her head.

  “Ian always keeps his cards close to his chest, but there have got to be some heavy-duty thoughts going on in that thirteen-year-old head of his right now.”

  “How do you think Jesse is going to react?”

  “I don’t know. When I discovered it was him in Texas, I ran through a whole range of emotions. Anger, confusion, joy. I imagine Jesse is about to have the same experience.”

  “He didn’t tell you that I came to see him?”

  Amy shook her head.

  “I did what I thought was best for you.”

  Amy looked at her mother. Her hands lay twisted together in her lap. The nails were neat and well-shaped with the look of a professional manicure, but the knuckles were still knobby, the skin roughened from years of hard work.

  “You can be mad at me if you want,” Peg told her daughter, “but if I had to do it all over again, I would still make the same decision.”

  Amy stood. “It was not your decision to make.”

  “Shhh, you’ll wake the household.”

  Amy felt her control slipping. The past two days were taking their toll. “Don’t ‘shhh’ me. This is my house.”

  Her mother stood. “Glenn and I will leave in the morning. We’ll go to a hotel.”

  “No.” Amy dropped down onto the ottoman again. “No. That’s not what I want.” She felt her mother’s hand, tentative, on her shoulder.

  “What do you want, Amy?”

  Amy didn’t realize she was crying until she tasted the tears. “I want fourteen years.”

  Her mother stayed silent, standing by her daughter’s side, her hand on her shoulder. She could not give Amy what she’d lost. No one could.

  “Tomorrow is going to be another long day,” Amy said, rising to her feet. “We should get some rest.” She started toward the hall stairs.

  “Amy?” Her mother’s voice stopped her. “Do you still love him?”

  She turned and faced her mother. “I never stopped.”

  THE DAYS that followed became a waiting game, a blur of bedside vigils, sleepless nights, a diet of coffee and convenience foods. Amy resumed her responsibilities at the hospital, grateful to have her mind occupied elsewhere for many hours. Otherwise she sat and thought of the recent days and wondered about the future. Aunt Betts’ swelling subsided. All medications were stopped. Still there was no response. As a medical professional, Amy knew the decision should have been made before this. But in her heart, she prayed for more time. And a miracle.

  There was no change.

  The family gathered at the hospital. This time, knowing it would be the last time, Ian chose to come and say good-bye to Aunt Betts. Standing bravely by his mother’s side, he hid his nervousness behind a poker face. Amy was again reminded of his father. Ian knelt beside the bed, and, folding his hands in prayer, he squeezed his eyes tight and silently said good-bye. He opened his eyes, stood, and looked at his mother. His features crumpled.

  Amy took him in her arms and rocked him gently as he cried. Gradually, his shoulders stilled and he straightened, swiping the dampness off his face. She laid her hand on his cheek. “You are very lucky to have loved someone so much.”

  He turned away and went into the hall, embarrassed by his display of emotion. She followed him into the waiting room and sat beside him, taking his hand.

  “You don’t need to hold my hand,” he said.

  “No, I need you to hold mine.”

  They waited as Amy’s mother said good-bye to her sister. She came out, leaning on Glenn’s arm, looking older than Amy remembered.

  “After the blessing, Grandma’s going down to the hospital
chapel,” Amy told her son. “It would be good if you went with her.”

  Ian nodded. Father Allen from her aunt’s church came to administer the last rites. When he finished, the small group stood by the bedside, hands still joined. There was only one thing left to be done. Amy looked at her mother. “I’ll meet you in the chapel in a few minutes.”

  Her mother nodded. Amy fought back tears as Ian offered his grandmother his arm. Glenn took Peg’s other arm and the trio walked toward the elevator. The elevator doors opened, closed. Amy was alone. She turned back to the hospital room.

  She did not need to be here. Other hospital personnel could perform the process. But she had asked to be the one, and her request had been approved. Some would think her brave. Amy knew it was selfishness that brought her here to the foot of her aunt’s bed. Only those in the medical profession could understand that what she was about to do would give her the comfort of at least being able to do something.

  She pulled out the intravenous line bringing fluids. She shut down the oxygen, gently removed the ventilator tube. She turned down the dials, shut off the machines maintaining organ function. Her movements were brisk, efficient. She was a good doctor.

  When she was done, she pulled a chair up to Aunt Betts’s bedside. She took her aunt’s hands in hers and waited. She did not know how long she sat. She watched. The lines went flat.

  She stood, still holding her aunt’s hands. She leaned down and kissed her brow.

  “I miss you already,” she whispered.

  Pressing the buzzer, she called the nurses. They would finish. She held her body very straight and still as she walked out of the room. One misstep, one stumble, and she would be finished.

  She took the stairs down, avoiding the elevator and other people. Her breath was shallow, as if a great weight pressed against her chest. She reached the ground floor and stepped into the hospital lobby, stopping when she saw a tall figure moving through the automatic entrance doors. Surely it was her imagination, the oasis a lone survivor would perceive in the hot desert sun.

  Jesse stopped when he saw her. Then his steps quickened. Her shoulders fell as she walked slowly into his arms. His large body curved like a sail around her slight figure, and she pressed herself to him as if she could not get close enough.

  “It seems,” he said in a low voice near her ear, “we have this habit of not saying good-bye to each other.”

  Amy didn’t think she had any tears left. She was wrong.

  He let her cry. She clutched his shirtfront, afraid that if she let go, he’d vanish before her eyes. He stroked her back, her hair, murmured soothing sounds. She leaned into him and cried harder. It was easily a full ten minutes before she could compose herself enough to look up into his face, once strange, now becoming familiar to her. She remembered she was in the hospital lobby in full display of colleagues and staff, but she didn’t care. She was in Jesse’s arms again. At that moment, that was all that mattered.

  “I’m so glad you came. Thank you.”

  His knuckle softly brushed away a tear on her cheek. “I would have come sooner, but the hurricane—”

  She shook her head, stopping him. “I wanted to stay longer, be there to help out.”

  “You were needed here, Amy. You had to go.”

  “Everything happened so fast. There was no time to try and reach you, let you know I had to leave.” She looked up into his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  His fingers moved softly against her skin. “I missed you.” He bent his head, gently brushing his lips against hers in a slow, sweet kiss.

  Amy’s arms tightened around him involuntarily. Don’t go, she thought. Don’t leave me this time.

  “Mom?”

  Amy jerked away from Jesse, breaking the embrace. She watched his eyes grow puzzled as her own pleaded. His gaze moved past her. He stepped back with a stagger as if punched squarely on the jaw. Muscles frozen, lips slightly parted, he looked at his son for the first time.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “MOM?”

  Jesse’s gaze remained fixed on Ian as the boy walked toward them, the image of Jesse nineteen years ago. Confusion clouded Jesse’s eyes as Ian stood beside Amy, taller than his mother. Amy looped her arm around his waist. “Hi, honey.”

  The boy stared back at Jesse with equal curiosity. Jesse swallowed dryly. His gaze still on the boy, he said to Amy, “This is your son?”

  Our son, she corrected silently. Jesse’s gaze darted to her. She nodded. His eyes darkened.

  “This is Ian,” she said. “Ian, this is Jesse Boone.”

  The man and boy faced each other. Neither spoke. Amy felt the tension in her son’s body. The silence stretched out. Jesse’s gaze stayed locked on the boy. Amy was about to tell him the truth when Jesse took a step forward and extended his hand. “Hello, Ian.”

  The boy hesitated before he took his father’s hand.

  “It’s good to meet you, Ian.” Jesse said the name again, as if trying to get used to it.

  The boy looked squarely into the man’s face.

  “Thank you for coming, sir.” Amy was never more proud of her son than at that moment.

  “I’m glad I came. I only wish…” Jesse swallowed. “I’d come sooner.” He released the boy’s hand and stepped back. His expression changed as his gaze shifted to Amy.

  Peg and Glenn joined the group. Peg looked at Jesse, glanced at her daughter curiously.

  “Mom, it’s Jesse,” Amy told her.

  A confusion similar to Jesse’s only minutes earlier crossed her mother’s features, but as she took in the man, her expression softened. “Hello, Jesse.”

  “Mrs. Sherwood.” The same warmth was not offered in his greeting. Amy saw anger flare in his eyes. So did her mother.

  “It was good of you to come,” Peg said.

  “I’m glad I did.” His voice remained reserved, although Amy had no doubt his answer was sincere.

  “This is my friend, Glenn Mulligan.”

  The two men shook hands.

  Peg put her arm around her grandson almost possessively. “Amy, Glenn and I will take Ian back to the house. We’ll see you both there?” Her gaze flickered to Jesse.

  Amy looked at Jesse. His gaze went to their son, then back to her. He nodded.

  “Grandma and Glenn will take you home and we’ll be right behind you,” Amy said. “Okay, Ian?”

  Ian shrugged. “Sure.”

  The trio headed toward the exit. As the automatic doors parted, Ian glanced over his shoulder. Jesse’s gaze had not left the boy. They looked at each other. Jesse smiled, lifted his hand good-bye. Ian turned without response.

  Jesse turned to her, his expression stony, the man she had met that first morning in Turning Point.

  “This is not how I wanted you to find out.”

  He raised a palm, halting her explanation. “Not here,” he said. “Someplace private.”

  She led him outside to a bench at the side of the hospital, several feet from any others. They sat down. Jesse stared ahead unseeingly.

  “Jesus,” he said finally.

  He fisted his hand and slammed it against the seat, shattering the uneasy silence. “You should have told me.”

  “I was going to.”

  “When?”

  “At first, I was so angry with you, then I had to come to terms with the fact that I had found you after all these years. The storm came, the news of Aunt Betts. I had to go.”

  “You had plenty of opportunity.” His voice was hard.

  “So did you,” she snapped back. “I don’t want to do this, Jesse.”

  For several moments, neither of them spoke. When Jesse finally did, his voice was eerily calm. “Fourteen years ago, I made my decision. Never once did I doubt it was the wrong choice.” He paused. “Until now.”

  Amy raised her hand, then hesitated, as her mother had only last night. She knew her touch would not be welcome.

  “Did your mother really despise me that much?” Jesse’s v
oice was tired.

  “She didn’t know I was pregnant when she went to see you. No one did for several months. I’d always been irregular. After you left, I wasn’t eating right, losing weight. I tried to blame the missed periods on that. When I finally had to consider the fact it could be something else, I was already in California in my first semester of college. I was so scared, I didn’t even tell my mother until Thanksgiving break.”

  “I can imagine her reaction,” Jesse said.

  “She was angry at first. Disappointed too, but then she was actually very supportive.” Some of the anger Amy had felt last night after she had learned what her mother had done began to dissolve. “She asked me what I wanted to do, if I had considered all the options.”

  “Had you?” Jesse asked quietly.

  “Abortion—no, never. Adoption, yes. I thought about it, but I knew I would keep the child, no matter what the cost. It was our child. It was all I had left of you.” She saw the pain etch new lines on his face. She had known they could never get back the fourteen years they’d lost. Now she feared they could never overcome them.

  “My mother offered to take care of the baby after the birth until I finished medical school, but this child was my responsibility. Fortunately, Aunt Betts insisted I live with her and let her help with the child. I couldn’t have made it without her.” She paused, fresh grief welling inside her.

  “I should have been there.” Jesse rubbed his brow, anguish in his voice.

  “Don’t you see? That’s how I felt when you first told me about your accident. All that time, I thought you had abandoned me, but I was the one who had abandoned you.”

  “You didn’t know about the accident.”

  “You didn’t know about the pregnancy,” she countered. “After my mother learned about the pregnancy, she did try to find you, but you had been transferred from that hospital to another, then another. The paperwork had been misplaced or forwarded so many times, no one was certain where you were.

  “Last night she also told me that you had tried to contact me after the accident, that she went to you in the hospital and begged you not to try to contact me again. You didn’t tell me that.” She tried not to make her voice accusatory.