Touch of Rain

by Teyla Branton

  After a while, I reached out and took Summer’s picture from the coffee table. This imprint was stronger. I felt a rush of love, saw thin, familiar fingers on the frame. Winter’s fingers. I’d replaced the glass that had shattered when I dropped it on the day of his funeral, but the imprints on the gold and black frame were unchanged.

  Exhaustion lay heavily upon my shoulders, but I knew I should call someone. Jake? No. He’d just be more set against my participation in this whole thing. Too bad, because he was my first choice. He could stay with me all night, sleeping in Winter’s room or on the couch. But because the attack was wrapped up with Harmony Farms, I knew I couldn’t call him without raising more objections to my plan. Same with Tawnia and Bret. The people in my building and my friends from work couldn’t begin to understand what was going on. So far none of them had even a hint about my gift. Better to rest now and figure things out in the morning.

  A creaking came from the apartment above me. Or was it coming from my place? Maybe someone was in my kitchen or in one of the two bedrooms. I looked around for something to use as a weapon. Not my antique vase or the ogre statue. They were too valuable.

  The sounds stopped, but I found myself clutching Summer’s picture, my hands shaking. This was going to be a long night.

  I had Ethan’s business card out of my purse and was dialing the phone before I realized it.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Autumn. I’m sorry to bother you this late.” My throat ached at the effort to speak, and my voice sounded husky even to my ears.

  “It’s barely ten.”

  “Oh.” It seemed much later to me.

  “Are you all right? You’re not having second thoughts?”

  “Someone was outside my apartment tonight. That guy I told you all about during dinner, the brother of that leader—not the leader in Marcie’s imprint, but the younger one I met today. Anyway, his brother left a map under my door. At least I think it was him.”

  “A map?” Ethan’s voice was eager. “Of what?”

  “It’s not marked, but there’s some cryptic wording about his being killed if they knew I had it, which is sort of stupid since I thought he was going to kill me before I even saw it.”

  “He hurt you?”

  “I must have startled him when I got home. I think he’s a little nuts.” I explained the attack and how Inclar had debated with himself whether or not to kill me.

  “I wondered what was up with your voice,” he said. “I wish I had been there.”

  “Me too.”

  “What he wrote on the envelope seems to indicate someone needs saving.”

  “I agree. But who?” I was feeling steadier now that he was on the line. I scooped up an antique vase and checked out the bedrooms. No one there, and the windows were closed. The tiny kitchen was also empty, my tall frame of herbs against the window undisturbed, the familiar smells welcoming me like an old friend. A cup of chamomile tea was what I needed for both my sore throat and my nerves. I set down the vase, and put my teapot on the stove.

  “Has to be the rebellious disciples, I’d say,” Ethan replied, answering my questions. “Who else would need saving?”

  “I thought about going to the police, but I worried that would get in the way of what we were trying to do.”

  “Maybe it would help.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then again you could be right. If he’s obviously crazy and we have him arrested, his brother might come to get him out on bail, or whatever.”

  “And my chances of joining Harmony Farms would probably be nil.”

  “Yes, your identity could be compromised. But what if he tries to hurt you again?”

  “Well, I’m not going to open the door for him.” I took down a mug from the cupboard.

  “Don’t open it for anyone.”

  I snorted. “Let’s not go overboard.”

  A loud horn sounded from his end, and I wondered if he lived near a freeway or large road. “Well, just be careful,” he said. “So about the map, is it legible?”

  I went back to the living room to retrieve it. “Looks like a photocopy—a poor one. I don’t recognize any of the landmarks, though there is a main road down at the very bottom. The 95, I think.”

  “That goes through Rome.”

  “Just a minute, and I’ll check it against my own map.”

  I plucked my Oregon map from the bookshelf and took it to the kitchen. The water in the teapot was hot, so I added the chamomile. Letting the tea steep, I spread the map onto the table.

  “Well?” asked Ethan, who was understandably anxious.

  I had to search for a moment. “Yeah, I think it is there. Like I said, the photocopy is kind of poor, and my map doesn’t show a lot of details, but I bet we could find it from this.”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t need to join them after all.”

  “You think you’d be able to find your sister if you watched the place?”

  He sighed. “You’re right. She might not be in view. Without someone on the inside, it’d be hard to tell if they are what they appear to be. They aren’t going to be abusing anyone in the open, even if the place itself is hidden.”

  I hadn’t exactly been implying any of that, but he did have a point. I didn’t mind letting him think I’d come to that conclusion before he did. All was fair in love and war. I smiled, knowing which I hoped this might be. Intelligence, finger-attracting hair, a smile that made my heart beat faster, and a steady job. What more could a girl want?

  “I’ll make you a copy of the map at work tomorrow,” I told Ethan.

  “Thank you. I’d like that.”

  “Well, I guess I’d better let you go.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you being alone. Maybe you should call your sister.”

  “She’d be freaked out, especially now with all the hormones.”

  “What about that guy. Jake, was it? I got the feeling you two are, uh, close.”

  I frowned. “He’s like a brother to me.” Unfortunately.

  “A brother.” Ethan sounded glad, and that made me feel better.

  More small talk while another idea occurred to me. I turned on the computer I’d crammed in a corner of the kitchen next to the washer piled high with dirty clothes. With a little help, I might be able to find myself a better map. It took me less time than I expected. I’d only finished half a cup of tea before I was able to pinpoint a dark patch of green on the interactive map that I thought might be the location of Harmony Farms.

  “It’s a lot clearer on the Internet,” I told Ethan triumphantly. “I mean, it’s just a patch of trees—I can’t see any buildings or anything, but that might be because they’re hidden or the satellite picture is old.” I sent the file to my email address, planning to print it at work since I didn’t have a printer in the apartment.

  “Great. That’s really going to help.”

  Help him, maybe. Because for me being able to find it on a map and in real life were two completely different things. I was hopelessly directionally impaired, another trait I shared with my sister. Without exact coordinates, I wouldn’t be able to use my phone’s GPS.

  I turned off the computer, my eyes heavy. I decided to finish the tea in the living room under my mother’s afghan. “Look, thanks for everything, Ethan. We’d better hang up now.”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Go open your door.”

  “What?”

  “Open it.”

  I went to the door and peered through the peephole. Ethan was standing outside, smiling with his phone at his ear. My gaze flitted to the clock to see that we’d been on the phone more than forty-five minutes. Still, he’d made good time; at normal speeds he lived forty-five minutes from Tawnia’s and my apartment was fifteen minutes farther.

  “There’s a man outside my door,” I said. “He might be here to attack me.”

  “I don’t think so. He might actually protect you.”

  “How did you find me?”

  He laughed,
a sound I could hear through both the phone and the door. “I’m a private investigator, aren’t I?”

  I let him in, embarrassed to be so happy to see him and glad that I wouldn’t have to jump at every creak in this old building all night long. “Thanks for coming.”

  “I came for the map.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Tea?” I indicated my cup.

  “No thanks.”

  We talked a while at the kitchen table, poring over the map, until I could no longer hide my huge yawns. “You go on to bed.” He opened his jacket to show the gun in his shoulder holster. “I’ll keep a lookout.”

  “Okay,” I said, all joviality gone. “Good night.” I touched his arm as I arose, a simple gesture of thanks.

  At least that’s what it was supposed to be. His scent drifted to my nose. Something masculine and incredibly attractive. He looked up at me, his expression acute. The tension between us grew so thick, I had no doubt we were both experiencing the same emotion. I liked this man, and he liked me. The night suddenly became a lot more interesting.

  But Jake’s warning about Ethan filled my head before I could do anything I might regret later. I lifted my hand and stepped back.

  “Good night,” Ethan said, his voice gravelly. His eyes followed me to the door.

  In my own room, I locked the door, shed my outer clothing, and fell into bed. Sleep settled over me, and the last thing I thought about wasn’t Jake’s comforting arms or Ethan’s intense stare but Inclar’s eye rolling uncontrollably in his head. And the key that was sitting inside the envelope on my coffee table.

  In all the excitement with the map, I’d completely forgotten the key.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning I awoke with the sun, which can really mess up your day in the winter but is an okay thing to do in mid-June. It was Friday, a work day, but I had time before I needed to open the shop, and if I wasn’t there exactly at nine, it really didn’t matter because Jake would open for both of us. I stretched in my bed under a quilt I’d tied when I was thirteen with a little help from Winter. I felt snug and warm.

  Then I remembered Ethan and sat up straight. Was he still here? I pulled on last night’s clothes, ran a hand through my short hair, unlocked my bedroom door, and went out into the living room.

  Ethan was there, all right. He’d dragged Winter’s comfy chair near the door, not an easy feat as it had been made in the days when furniture was built to last more than three years. He lay back in it sound asleep, his hair tousled even more than yesterday and his mouth partially open. He looked like a little boy, and I smiled at the image. Until my eyes fell to the gun in his hand. He’d obviously been worried that Inclar might return. Though it was sweet to put himself in the line of fire, I doubted I was in immediate danger. This was dramatic overkill. Asleep holding the gun, he looked a parody of the courageous private investigator at my sister’s dinner table the night before.

  I laughed softly, but Ethan didn’t stir. I wondered how long he’d stayed up studying the map. No doubt he was anxious to get on the road to see if anything was really there.

  Why would Inclar give me a map and then try to kill me? There didn’t seem to be an answer, and I hated wasting time playing “what if,” though normally I was a master at the game.

  What if Summer had survived the cancer? What if I hadn’t let Winter go with me to shop for antiques that last day? Or what if we hadn’t driven over the Hawthorne Bridge?

  I grabbed low-rise camouflage pants and a dark brown shirt from my room and hurried to the bathroom. I showered, humming to myself and feeling more alive than I had in a long time. Only a slight huskiness remained when I tried out my voice, and my throat felt much better.

  My smile died when I looked in the mirror and saw two thumbprint bruises in the middle of my throat. Everything came rushing back. My heart thumped and then hammered in my chest as last night’s terror flashed into my mind. My stomach churned so hard I felt sick. I gripped the sink until the memory passed.

  I should have called the police. But what would that mean for the map and the key?

  I gave my hair two minutes with the blow dryer, using a little gel to add body to the red-dyed hair on top. A generous helping of makeup gave me back my color, which I sometimes thought had been leached from my face when my car plunged into the Willamette River.

  I opened the door to find Ethan was no longer snoring in the chair, which had been put back in its place. Nor was he anywhere else in my apartment. Both my map and Inclar’s were gone, but the envelope holding the key lay untouched on the coffee table next to my marble figurines. Unable to make myself touch it again, I folded it up in the envelope and slipped it into my handbag. I’d have to find some way to take it to the commune undetected.

  Before I could get annoyed about Ethan’s desertion, I heard a sound at the door, not quite a knock, and I went to see who it was—Ethan, back from wherever he’d gone. I unlocked the door and let him in. He’d combed his hair, probably with his fingers, and it had regained its normal look that skirted the border between professional and messy.

  “Sorry, hands are full.” He hefted two bags that looked suspiciously like doughnuts and coffee.

  Caffeine and trans fat. Processed flour and sugars. I stifled a sigh. “I don’t drink coffee,” I said. No use in delaying the inevitable confession.

  He couldn’t have been more surprised if I’d told him I had supernatural powers, which, it could be argued, I do, so I know the look. “What about doughnuts?” he asked.

  “I definitely eat doughnuts, just not that kind. Look, forget about them. Come on in, and I’ll make us a breakfast that will knock our socks off.”

  His eyes went to my bare feet. “That’d be pretty hard to do, seeing as you’re not wearing any.”

  “You have a problem with my feet?”

  “I think you have beautiful feet.”

  “Oh.” No one had ever said that to me before. The delicious tension of the night before reappeared in that instant.

  “Your eyes are beautiful too. In fact, all of you looks amazing. Especially after what you went through yesterday.”

  That reminded me of someone saying, “She looks great for her age.” Qualifiers significantly lessened the impact of a compliment, but I’d try to overlook the additional words this time. He was a man, after all.

  “Thanks.”

  I made him real hot cocoa and fresh whole wheat doughnuts fried in palm fruit oil, along with fresh organic eggs and bacon.

  “This really is good.” Ethan stared at me with something near admiration. The old saying that you can reach a man’s heart through his stomach seemed to be true.

  Everything was going great until Jake arrived.

  I was washing a pan when he rang, and by the time I’d dried my hands and made it to the door, he was knocking and calling my name. “Oh, you’re here,” he said.

  “I’m eating breakfast.” I ran my tongue over my lower lip to check for any stray bacon grease.

  “I see.” Jake looked great this morning in cargo jeans and an off-white shirt with buttons and long sleeves turned up at the cuffs. The light shirt set off the dark color of his skin and eyes. Eyes that narrowed with suspicion when Ethan appeared behind me in the kitchen doorway. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No, we’re just having breakfast. There was a little excitement last night, and Ethan came over to—”

  “He stayed the night?”

  “Well. Sort of. Not really stayed. It was more of standing guard in case the man came back. And he wanted to see the map, of course.”

  “What man? What map? What’s going on here?” Jake’s dark eyes were flashing now, and I recognized anger, which made me angry too.

  “Nothing. Or nothing that’s any of your business, if that’s the way you’re going to act.”

  “I came over here to see if we could compromise on this cult issue, but you’ve gone right ahead and—”

  “She was attacked last night,”
Ethan interrupted in a somewhat superior air. “I came to make sure she was safe.”

  Jake’s stare went from me to Ethan and back again. “You didn’t call me? What were you thinking? We’re friends.” Not like this guy, his words implied.

  I sighed. “Look, why don’t you stay here with Ethan and he’ll tell you what we found out, okay? Since you’re obviously not going to be around to open your store, or the connecting doors to mine, I’d better get there myself. I seem to remember that you usually have a bit of a morning rush.” I grabbed my handbag and fled.

  For a woman with as many antiques as I had in my apartment, you’d think I’d have more care about locking up. But I always figured that if someone really needed my things worse than I did, they were welcome to them. Besides, a lot of antiques—my favorites, in fact—looked a lot like old junk. Especially crammed in with all the years’ worth of things Winter and I couldn’t bear to throw away.

  Jake had a key anyway, a fact he was probably showing off to Ethan right now. What was wrong with him? The possibility of Jake’s harboring secret romantic feelings for me was beyond my ability to entertain at the moment. I was too annoyed.

  The morning was chilly for June, but the sun in the east showed every sign that it would burn away the clouds. I looked around, letting the calm of the new day ease my turmoil. I smiled and waved at neighbors as they passed.

  My mood was destroyed for the second time that morning when my car didn’t start. Great. What now? It sounded like the battery had run down, but I’d replaced it only two months ago. Now I’d have to find someone to let me use their car to jump start it, which I was an old pro at by now, or ask Jake for a ride.

  I definitely wasn’t going to ask Jake.

  Jake and Ethan emerged from my building, Jake jumping on his bike and roaring away without even looking at me. Ethan sauntered in my direction. I opened my door. “Can you give me a jump start? I have cables.”