“Stronger than you think,” he said but she simply shrugged away his comment.
“How was work this week?” She asked, always politely changing the subject when uncomfortable with the material at hand.
He smiled, deciding to play along. “It was good, put up a new firewall on the Galileo system,” he said and her head tried to keep up with the IT jargon he began speaking. Yet, she asked relevant questions truly interested in his position with the Department of Defense.
They spoke the entire trip to the Bainbridge Island, standing at the railing of the boat in the cold and brisk air, the sky unusually clear and sunny, although cold, the view of Seattle skyline beautiful, yet the view of the harbor and islands absolutely stunning.
When the ferry docked at Bainbridge Island they waited in line with others to depart, taking their time, and he held her hand, escorting her off the boat but not letting her hand go as they walked to a sleek black BMW. “Here,” he said, opening the door for her as she slid in, noting the way his eyes traveled up her knee high black boots, her thighs before they touched upon the hem of her dress.
He smiled when he met her eyes, closed the door and walked around to his side while she buckled her seat belt.
“It will only take a few moments,” he said as he drove out the parking lot, careful of the many pedestrians bundled up in the cold and tracking the short distance to the city center.
“This is such a beautiful island,” she said, taking in the picturesque and large houses placed upon the island edge. The city center was filled with Christmas lights, poinsettias and a large Christmas tree in the very middle of the downtown area. There were hundreds of people bustling about, shopping, and making their way through the busy area in good cheer and for the first time Rain allowed herself to feel their excitement, their ease and happy nature. Her mood changed from one of wariness as she dropped down her barriers. She would have a good time, she promised herself. She would enjoy every minute of this and stop punishing herself for a past that had been forced upon her.
When he stopped the car in front of a quaint art museum in the center of downtown, she hopped out before he was able to open her door and met him around the car, this time taking his hand in hers as he smiled in small surprise. Their fingers intertwined as he led the one into the shop already packed with others as they were met in the door by an elderly man of Asian descent in traditional Chinese clothing.
Enlai bowed towards the man. “Fao Ming,” he said. “This is Rain Rule,” he greeted the two as Fao Ming bowed over Rain’s hand, shaking it warmly.
“Of course, of course,” Fao said, smiling towards the beautiful woman. “Come, welcome into my art studio.”
“Thank you so much,” she returned, surprised by his warmth and seemingly open nature.
“Come, come, I shall introduce you,” Fao said.
He led the two deeper into the art gallery, filled with art deco, portraits and Asian landscape. The works were absolutely stunning and held Rain mesmerized as she was introduced to other artists, Island natives and Seattle socialites.
Enlai removed their coats, leaving her momentarily before finding his way back to her side like a bee to honey, her curves from behind went on forever, her petite form beside two taller, pale skinned women making her look even more beautiful and exotic, like a rare jewel.
“Enjoying yourself?” He asked his hand on the small of her back as he whispered in her ear.
A smile caught him in the throat, as she glanced at him, and he placed a kiss on her upturned cheek, breathing in her seductive scent, forgetting himself.
“I am, thank you,” she said as she introduced him to the two women.
She noticed the interested glances they gave him, one of the women perusing him as if he was a piece of chocolate. Enlai excused them from the ladies presence as they perused the paintings, an exciting and low conversation among the guests.
“He really is quite talented,” Rain said, nodding towards one exquisitely beautiful piece of the countryside of Asia. “How do you two know each other?” She asked.
“He is actually my great uncles half-brother. He immigrated to the states as a teenager with his family. He is the last one of his line.”
“He has never married, no children?” She asked in curiosity.
“No, his wife and daughter died in Communist China, he has never remarried.”
“Oh,” she said in sadness.
“It was a long time ago, Rain,” he said. “China five decades ago…it was not exactly paradise.” He said.
“I understand.” She said.
They spoke of the rest of the exhibits, enjoyed light appetizers but she refused to drink more than one glass of one. Hours later, they said their goodbye’s to Fao before walking hand in hand towards a French restaurant down the street.
Once there, they enjoyed exquisite cuisine and conversation before regretfully, they made their way back to the ferry, the last one returning to Seattle soon to arrive.
“I had a wonderful time,” Rain said, still hand in hand with Enlai as they stood at the railing of the ferry, the city of Seattle sparkling in the rapidly dark night.
“I’m glad. Would you like to come back to my place?” He asked, meeting her eyes.
She wanted to say no, wanted to say yes, could not explain herself either way. “I,” she began and once gain remembering what she had promised herself. She hadn’t touched another person sexually since she was eighteen. And even then it had been forced upon her. Now, twelve years later she was so tired in living within the shadows of her nightmares. Tired of withholding herself from the love and need of another. She wanted so much to touch someone in innocence and in love. Twelve long years and she wanted her peace given back to her. Wanted to be able to choose to love and to give to another. She had not had the right since she was six.
“Yes,” she finally said, smiling softly.
He returned her smile, brought his hands to cup her face, kissing her lips softly in the evening light, the brisk air and the heat of his face making her heady with pleasure.
Wrapping her arms around his neck she deepened the kiss, moaning softly before pulling away, a deep flush upon her cheeks. “I think we should keep this PG,” she said shakily as his hands had found his way underneath her coat, wrapping around her waist.
“You are right,” he finally agreed, breathing heavily.
They kept it PG, sharing fleeting kisses and soft touches. When they departed he walked her to her car. “I parked right down this aisle from you, you’ll follow?” He asked.
“Yes, I will,” she said as he opened her car door for her.
“Okay, give me a moment,” he said, kissing her again.
She watched him walk towards his car and pulled out the parking lot as he got inside his car. Following behind him she played classical music and tried to ease the nervousness of her past. She would not allow her past to regulate who she was anymore, to live in fear of things that were long ago buried. She was ready, ready to begin a new page in her book.
She parked her car next to his in his in the condo’s underground garage. Getting out, they met between the two cars, holding hands, kissing in nervousness and excitement.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
“Yes, very,” she said.
He nodded; he wanted her too much to ask her that again but knew if she even hinted at nervousness or was uncomfortable he would stop. He wouldn’t hurt her, he couldn’t.
The trip up the elevator was quiet as he slowly caressed the small of her back. She didn’t ask him if he would call her after they made love, if they would begin a relationship, if she would ever see him again. She doubted it, but did not care. She wanted another human touch the only one she had were the hugs from Belle and Mark, the kisses from their children. She would no more live in the past.
When he unlocked the door to his condo and shut off the alarm, switching on the lights, she paused, stopping, her breath leaving her body, seated in a deep leather cha
ir next to a cold fireplace was Song.
He didn’t seem surprised to see them, was waiting for them. Patiently waiting in a black, tailored suit as Enlai closed and locked the door behind her and her blood grew cold.
“We won’t hurt you, Rain,” Enlai said behind her.
Stay calm, stay calm, she told herself, remembering her gun in her boots, her knife and mace. Just stay calm, Rain.
“Who are you?” She finally asked her voice calm and still, low.
Enlai walked around her, standing in front of the ceiling to floor windows that dominated his entire loft style living room. He made the appearance of civility, his hands loose at his side, given her ample space and room, a small smile upon his face.
“Acquaintances of your grandfather,” Song said, not moving from his seat.
“I have no grandfather,” she replied just as smoothly. She knew that running towards the door would be wasted, they pretended ease but as soon as she moved they would be on her, quickly.
She would remain calm. She was used to surprises in her life. Had expected something to happen. She’d fought since she was six years old, she would still fight.
“You do, Rain,” Enlai said quietly and turned towards her.
She stared between the two men, Song and Enlai, finally recognition upon her face. “You two are brothers?” She stated.
It was Song who nodded.
“Who is this grandfather?”
“He is a very important man to a lot of different people. He hired us to find you.” Enlai stated.
“You don’t really work for the Department of Defense?” Rain asked wryly, what a fool she had been.
“I do, but not in IT but research and development.”
“And Song?”
“Defense systems,” he said.
“Who is this grandfather?” She asked.
“He is a scientist; he has searched for you for many years but to no avail. He was kidnapped from Ethiopia, enslaved to Communist China for many years, leaving behind his son…your father and your father’s new wife. She was pregnant with you. Your grandfather was told that if he tried to escape your father and mother along with you would be killed. He became one of China’s most important and unknown scientists perfecting weapons of mass destruction. So many times China was so close to beginning World War III, each time they were stopped. Your grandfather managed to escape five years later after his kidnapping. He tried to hunt your father and mother down, but the village where you lived had been raided, everyone had been killed…but he found you. Wandering along in the wild, alone, just five years old. He hid you, gave you to close friends of his to escape to America. You have a mark, upon your right shoulder that he placed there. He sedated you, and had an Akofena tattooed upon your right shoulder…swords of war. Once in America, the couple that he entrusted you to was killed; you somehow were lost and ended up in foster care throughout the east coast, going from one foster home to the other.”
Her breath stopped, flashbacks of memories forgotten. Screams of terror in a small house…a woman pushing her away, telling her in a distant language, run, run, don’t look back, run. Someone picking her up, running with her, someone not much larger than she was, a trusted friend, a young male just twelve years old. Her friend, she remembered crying, screaming, and then the boy dropping her, his wide dead eyes staring at her, urging her to run, leave, hide, escape.
She knew the wilds of her village, had run wild in the trees, she hid in her favorite place, a small hollow in a tree as she watched pale men with slanted eyes hack away at the underbrush, speaking foreign words, shooting villagers that had run into the village.
She stared wide eyed, her breath frozen in her throat as strange shoes stood directly in front of her hiding place. She knew if she moved she would be killed just like her parents, just like her friend.
She couldn’t remember how long she hid inside the small hallow of the tree, only that many nights had passed and her legs were raw with bug and ant bites before creeping slowly out, making her way slowly back to her village, but where her village had once been was nothing except charred small homes and a heaping pile of still smoldering dead bodies.
She wouldn’t look at the bodies, instead going towards what had once been her home but was now nothing except burned rubble. She picked her way through the hot embers, looking for food and finding none, she went back to the wild, eating and drinking what she could for many days, making a small home in her hallowed trunk with items that had not been destroyed by fire, and too shock to do more than anything other than to stare into the midnight sky, her young mind trying to grasp futilely at the destruction that had just occurred.
She remembered the man that looked like her father finding her. He had fallen to his knees in front of her, calling her name. “I am your grandfather, little one,” he said.
She knew who he was; her father had a picture of him. She trustingly walked to him, sitting on his lap as he stroked her hair, his tears falling upon your cheek. “I will protect you,” he said.
Days later he gave her to a strange couple as he hugged and kissed her goodbye. They were next to a large, machine that he told her would fly in the sky and take her away from these troubles.
She trusted him and the people he knew. She nodded to show her understanding and hugged him, before she was hurriedly taken into the large machine, an airplane and stared out the window at her grandfather who waved her away.
Her memory began in bursts. Something very bad had happened to the couple she was with. The man had hid her and told her to hide forever. That she was in danger. She hid, but eventually she was found in the middle of downtown Boston, as strangers gasped with shock at the small five year old girl covered in dried blood.
She was taken to a hospital by child protective service and the police. But she would not talk, she could not talk. She was placed in foster care, quiet, young and small, and at the age of six had been raped by her foster father. When the state had found out she was placed in numerous other homes, some safe, clean, hospitable, others horrid, abusive, painful. Until she’d escaped from her last foster home, the day of her last raped, she’d hitched a ride to Chicago, began college and started working as a waitress, trying to bury the pain of her past.
Forgetting her birth right, but not the pain of her childhood abuse.
And now the memory of her earlier years. This could not be. Why now? God, why now?
She unconsciously touched the top of her shoulder, that strange symbol that had always been with her, that she had not even noticed until she was seven years of age.
“What happened to him, after he placed me on the plane to America?”
“He was found by the Chinese again. He was tortured, he nearly died. He managed to escape under the United States by protective custody. He revealed China’s secret and was given asylum as a refuge and began to work for the Department of Defense. On his own he searched for you. But he was met with dead end after dead end. The airplane was to take you to New York where he had others waiting for you. Yet, for some reason it was diverted to Boston, you then were loss in the Boston foster system. He hired us to find you.”
“How did you find me?”
“Your museum. You had a large opening at your museum. Your name, your English name was placed under the marketing information and it was code. It was how you escaped from Ethiopia. Under the rain…rules. It was raining the day you left the country. It ruled the ability to escape or not. You had to go in a storm to help reduce the ability of China finding you with their equipment.”
“Rain Rule isn’t my real name?” She said. That had been the only thing that she had told the Boston police in her heavily accented voice as a five year old.
“No,” Song said. “Your real name we will not speak, not until you are reunited with your grandfather. You are still in danger, Rain; there are those who would wish you dead.”
“Why?”
It was Song who continued the tale. “Your grandmother was a scientist
in her own right. A biochemist. She performed experiments on your mother, experiments your mother did not know of. Somehow she altered your DNA, gave you resistance to every single disease known to humans. When the Chinese came, she destroyed all of her research and would not reveal who she had experimented on. The Chinese killed her. No one to this day has been able to replicate her experiments. Within you, Rain there is a DNA genotype unmatched by any other person upon this planet. If the Chinese find you, you will be killed, but not before you are fully experimented on.”
“How do I know that you do not work for those that wish to kill me?” She asked.
The Beginning Of Rain In December Page 3
