After the Summer Rain

by Gerri Hill

  “And painful?” Erin guessed. “Emotionally painful, I mean.”

  Melanie nodded. “Yes. The guilt was suffocating and…all I could see was Adam on our bed, the blood, the gun.” She closed her eyes. “The last time, I guess it had been four years since he died, the image wasn’t quite as fresh, as raw, but it was there. And the woman—I have no idea what her name was—had no clue what was going on with me. She must have thought I was a nutcase, I guess.” Melanie looked at her then. “And I was, I suppose.”

  “So last night? When we were kissing, was Adam there with us? Did you see him? Had I disappeared?” Erin wasn’t certain what she expected to see in Melanie’s eyes, but sadness wasn’t it. It wasn’t grief, no. It was something else. Despair?

  “No. Adam wasn’t there,” Mel said quietly. “I think…I think that frightened me.” She shook her head. “No. I know it frightened me. I keep my guilt in check, for the most part. Buried, at least. Hidden, out of sight.” She took a sip of her coffee. “When we kissed and there was no sign of Adam or my guilt—” She met her gaze again. “I felt a bit lost again. Alone.” She shook her head. “I know that makes no sense.”

  “It’s been so many years, Mel. Maybe—whether you wanted it to or not—your guilt has slipped away.”

  “Yes. Maybe it has. Or maybe it’s just hiding, waiting to spring out at me again.”

  “Ah, I see. If we’re together—intimate—then you’re afraid it’ll come back full force.”

  “Yes. And when you leave, I’m afraid I’ll have to start all over again.”

  Erin nodded. “I understand.” She reached over and took Melanie’s hand, squeezing it tightly, then relaxing her hold a bit. “So let me apologize again and we won’t talk about it. It’s over and done with.”

  Melanie arched an eyebrow. “Pretend it never happened?”

  “Exactly. Pretend it never happened.” She offered a quick smile. “Back to normal for us.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Melanie pushed the straw hat up and wiped her brow, taking the time to glance up into the sky. It was a hot day, but the clouds were building in the west. She figured they had an hour before the rain started.

  “My back is killing me. You’re a slave driver.”

  She laughed. “My basket is twice as full as yours. Don’t start with me.”

  “You have experience doing this.” Erin stood up straight and rubbed the small of her back. “Who knew picking green beans was so much work?”

  “Are you trying to get out of the canning process later?”

  “Yeah.” Erin grinned at her. “It’s blistering hot. How about a dip in the creek? We can do the pressure canning thing tonight.”

  She shook her head. “No time.”

  She motioned to the sky, watching as Erin glanced to the west. The smile Erin had been flashing disappeared when she recognized the rain clouds coming. Yeah, a dip in the creek did sound refreshing. And if she was alone, she might dash off for a quick swim, just to cool off. But she thought it better not to even suggest it. Because they’d go to the creek, they’d both strip naked…and after what had happened the other day, she’d just as soon not put them in that position again. Because they were pretending the kisses never happened.

  She couldn’t avoid the creek forever, though. They’d been managing quite well the last few days. There was no awkwardness between them, even though she knew it was only because of great effort on both their parts. They’d teased and laughed and chatted like always. Things had been normal. Because they were pretending the kisses never happened.

  On the surface, things were normal. It was what lurked beneath the surface that scared her. Still.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said it rains every afternoon.”

  “It won’t rain every day. And sometimes the rains won’t come until later…three or four. Plenty of time for a swim.”

  “Or maybe we should plan to go at noon, before the rains come.”

  “Or we could do that.”

  Erin laughed. “You’re afraid to go swimming with me, aren’t you?”

  “I most certainly am not!”

  Erin came closer, her eyes dancing with merriment. “You, my friend, are lying through your teeth! But…we can use the rain as an excuse, if you want to. Be warned, though. We’re not going to spend the rest of the summer avoiding the creek. Because I can control myself around you, whether you’re naked or not.” She grinned wickedly at her. “You, apparently, are afraid that you can’t.”

  She sauntered off, back to the row of green beans she’d been picking. Mel was left to stare at her, noting the tan, shapely legs that had replaced the thin, pale ones Erin had first sported. Erin had changed in so many ways. Certainly physically—her hair, her weight, her appearance. But her personality had changed too. The quiet, serious, withdrawn woman had been replaced with a vibrant, talkative, teasing, and playful one.

  And she enjoyed being around her. She enjoyed her company and she enjoyed her presence. Whether they were cooking together and chatting or watching TV and sitting quietly, or even on the porch not speaking at all…she enjoyed Erin being there with her.

  She turned her attention back to her own row of beans when she heard thunder rumble behind the bluff. Yeah, she enjoyed Erin. And yeah, she’d lied.

  She was afraid to go swimming with her.

  * * *

  “I’m not sick of squash or green beans,” Erin said as she stabbed beans with her fork. “Why do you keep asking if I am?”

  “Because I’m trying to be a gracious host.”

  “So if I said I was sick of them, what would be the alternative?”

  “Broccoli or cauliflower. I have both in the freezer from the spring harvest.”

  “And when do we dig potatoes?”

  Mel smiled at her. “That’s the third time you’ve asked.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. Because these are fabulous,” she said, biting into a wedge. Mel had dug around one of the potato plants, picking out three nice-sized potatoes for their dinner. They’d been the best tasting ones she’d ever eaten.

  “Most people don’t even know what a real potato tastes like. Those you buy in the store have been refrigerated. It totally changes the taste. Even the ones we’ve been eating, they’re from the fall harvest. You can tell they’re no longer as fresh once you taste these.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m finding all of this totally fascinating. Eating in season, canning, the whole garden thing. It’s so different than what I imagined.” Then she shook her head. “Actually, I don’t think I ever did really imagine it. You just go to the store, hit the produce aisle, and get what you want. It never really occurred to me how things were grown, I guess.”

  “I’m sure most people are like that. I know I was.”

  “So you eat what the garden is producing until it stops. Then what?”

  “What? You want a seasonal tour?”

  She motioned to her plate. “Tonight, for instance. We’ve got pinto beans, which are so much better than Rachel’s. We’ve got potatoes, squash, and green beans.” She moved the green beans around. “And some onions and peppers here.” She scooped up a forkful of beans. “Never in a million years would I have thought I’d enjoy eating like this. You’re an excellent cook.”

  “Thank you, but it’s all pretty simple fare.”

  “What do you do during the winter?”

  “I still have some things in the garden. Carrots do really well, winter and spring. Spinach, lettuce, kale, collards. Cabbage. I usually make soups during the winter months. And I eat the veggies I either froze or canned. Now that I’ve got my routine down, it isn’t difficult at all.”

  “Why no tofu? I mean, we’ve had it…what? Twice? Three times? And those soy curl things…Those were good.”

  “Like Rachel, beans are a staple for me. And even though I can buy tofu any time of year, I usually only eat it during the summer, for some reason. I love a good stir-fry. I’ll need to make one
for us soon. And yes, I’ll do the soy curls again.”

  “Pasta?” she asked hopefully.

  “We can. I usually use rice, but pasta is a good change.”

  She took a swallow of water before stabbing another potato with her fork. Surprisingly, she no longer missed having some sort of meat with their meals. At first, it seemed like something was lacking. But now? Now she filled her plate with either potatoes or the seasoned rice Mel made. Then she added a huge helping of beans and covered what was left of the plate with veggies. There was no room to even consider where a piece of chicken might fit.

  “You look good.”

  She looked up, meeting Mel’s gaze. “Thanks to you.”

  “Not all me.”

  “Mostly. You, the food. Being out here, away from…my life.”

  “Do you miss it yet? Your life?”

  Did she? Honestly, she rarely thought about it. Mel had been keeping her so busy and perhaps that was the plan. She really didn’t have time to contemplate…things. How were her projects? Did her father have them running on schedule? Had they had rain? Thunderstorms? A tropical system and flooding? What about her house? Were the yard guys coming as planned? Did the cleaning lady still come by once a week? Was her pool being cleaned? She hadn’t given it a thought. Joyce was supposed to “check on things” and she assumed she had. She hadn’t thought about it, no, but did she miss it?

  “I don’t know, really. I don’t think about it.” She shrugged. “I’m just here…until I’m not.”

  “You don’t have a secret calendar in your room that you mark off each day with a giant X?” she teased.

  She smiled at her. “The first few days…yeah, I thought about building one on my laptop. Now? I don’t even know where my laptop is.”

  Melanie stood up and took their plates to the sink. “If you want the password, just say the word.”

  “I haven’t missed being online. I don’t see you use it much either.”

  Melanie held up a cup. “Feel like tea?”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t use it much, no. Check the weather, that sort of thing. When I first moved out here, I’d read newspapers, trying to keep up with what was going on out there,” she said with a wave of her hand. “It was mostly depressing and I found I had a much better outlook on life if I wasn’t exposed to all that. Politics, mass shootings, protests.” She shook her head. “My life is so much more peaceful without it.”

  Erin nodded. At first, that was something she missed. Being connected, knowing what was going on. In her old life, when she got ready for work, she’d have the news on. Her commute to the office—talk radio. She was informed. She knew what was going on in the world. She was also usually angry, anxious, worried about the state of the nation, worried about the stock market. Now? Like everything else, it was out of sight, out of mind. Peaceful, yes. But unlike Melanie, she couldn’t hide away from the real world out here forever. She’d have to go back to it.

  Eventually.

  She took her cup of tea that Melanie offered her and followed her out to the porch. The air was still cool and damp from the earlier rain. Today’s showers had passed rather quickly, but they were a little more intense. Mel had warned her that some afternoons and evenings, the storms would be severe, with lots of lightning and even hail. Those were the storms she dreaded, she’d said, as they could wipe out her garden if they were severe enough.

  She sat down beside her, putting the rocker in motion. There was a breeze this evening and the piñon pine at the corner was rustling, its fragrance drifting about as the branches brushed the cabin walls. And even though she was expecting them, the first loud howls of the coyotes made her jump.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.”

  “I love it,” Melanie said quietly. “Some people equate the sound with loneliness. To me, it’s quite the opposite.”

  “You mean, it’s more lonely when Goldie and Rick aren’t around?”

  “Yes. It’s so quiet then. At night. I sometimes feel like I’m the only person left in the world.”

  Melanie’s words weren’t much more than a whisper, and Erin turned her head slowly, watching her. The porch light was off, like they usually had it when they were out. The inside lights cast enough of a glow to allow her to see Mel’s features. As more yips and howls sounded, a smile formed on Melanie’s lips. In the muted light, Erin was certain she’d never seen a more beautiful woman. Mel turned to look at her then, the soft smile now for her.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Erin.”

  She stared into her eyes, trying to read them. “Me too.”

  The words didn’t surprise her. She was glad she was there. The three-month prison sentence she’d been dreading was nearly half over and she now felt like the days were speeding by too fast. She was still amazed at how much she’d changed in such a short time. Not only physically. That was easy to see. But mentally, emotionally—she felt a peace within her that had been missing for so long. Missing? Was it ever there to begin with? Like this?

  It was a quiet peace that she could almost feel surrounding her, comforting her. Protecting her. Protection from what, though?

  Herself, maybe.

  They sat there in silence, their rockers moving in near unison as the coyotes moved away, their song disappearing in the wind, the night swallowing it up, making her question if they’d even been there at all.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Hurry!”

  Erin was laughing as she struggled to carry the five-gallon bucket full of potatoes. “Why am I doing all the heavy lifting?”

  “Because you wanted to dig some potatoes. Not me.”

  Mel ran ahead of her, the cold wet rain pelting them mercilessly. She opened the door to the shed, letting Erin go in ahead of her. Erin dropped the bucket, then plopped down on the hay bale, catching her breath.

  “That came out of nowhere.”

  Mel brushed her damp hair back from her face and nodded. “I know. I thought we had plenty of time.”

  “That was fun though. What’d we get?”

  “That’s probably more than twenty pounds.” She smiled at her. “You’re pretty handy.”

  “You think I’m a keeper, huh?”

  Mel grinned at her. “Definitely. You’ve become quite adept at many things.”

  “Like making tortillas?” A boom of thunder shook the shed and Erin’s eyes flew to hers. “That sounded close.”

  She nodded. “You have thunderstorms in Houston, don’t you?”

  “Sure. We have our share of severe weather—tornado warnings and such. I don’t pay much attention, I guess. Our office suite is on the eleventh floor of a high rise—”

  “Wow. You must have a nice view of storms up that high.”

  “I don’t know. Not sure I’ve actually watched one before.”

  Mel tilted her head, studying her. She could see that, she supposed. She had to remind herself that the Erin she knew out here wasn’t the same person she’d be back in the city. She wouldn’t be on her knees, digging in the earth, squealing with delight when she brought up a potato, her hands covered in dirt. And she wouldn’t be traipsing off to the creek, walking in up to her knees to clean off. And she wouldn’t be walking with chickens and goats, talking to them as if they understood—much like she herself did.

  “You’re wondering how I could miss seeing a thunderstorm, aren’t you?”

  Melanie shook her thoughts away, nodding at Erin. “They’re so powerful. Nature at its best. Out here, with the bluff behind us and the mountains out there,” she motioned with her hand. “They’re wild…spectacular.”

  “Scary.”

  She nodded with a smile. “Yes. Especially if you’re caught outside in one.”

  A double boom shook them, its sound echoing against the bluff, then trailing off down the creek. The chickens clucked nervously on their roost and the twins pressed closer to the wooden railings that separated their stall from the shed. Erin reached out and
rubbed Rosie’s nose. Melanie smiled as Erin whispered reassuringly to her.

  Erin turned then, her dark eyes still gentle—warm—from cooing at Rosie. Her hair was damp and standing on end from where her fingers had brushed through it. She had dirt on her cheek. Without thinking, Melanie moved closer, reaching out to brush the smear from Erin’s face. Her thumb rubbed gently against her skin. The dirt smudge was gone, yet her fingers remained. Her gaze fixed on Erin’s, and she realized that Erin was holding her breath, afraid—maybe—that she would spoil the moment by making even the slightest movement.

  Melanie’s gaze dropped to Erin’s mouth. Again, without conscious thought, she traced her thumb along the bottom of her lip. Even though Erin remained still, Mel could see her pulse beating rapidly in her neck. Their eyes met again and she swore she felt an energy between them—a charge in the air. She heard a bolt of lightning sizzle across the creek, its flash illuminating the darkening sky. The subsequent rumble barely registered as she bent down, lowering her mouth to meet Erin’s.

  When their lips met, she felt her heart flutter in her chest, felt her stomach flip nervously, heard the tiny moan she couldn’t contain. Instead of deepening the kiss, which is what she wanted to do, she pulled back with a quick shake of her head.

  “I’m sorry, Erin. I have no right—”

  “Mel…stop.” Erin stood up, standing in front of her. Standing too close. “Quit thinking so much.”

  “That’s just it. I’m not thinking. Not rationally, anyway. We agreed—”

  “We agreed to not talk about it, to pretend it didn’t happen…to ignore it.” Erin touched her hand, rubbing her fingers across the back of it. “We’ve done that. It’s not what either of us really want, though. Is it?”

  “Oh, Erin. We can’t want this, can we? Kisses stolen in a smelly barn?”

  Erin smiled at her. “Yeah…there must be something about this shed that makes us kiss.”