Falling for Rain

by Gina Buonaguro

  She started in the direction of her car, then turned in the other direction. She wasn't ready to go home yet; she was too restless. She needed to collect her thoughts, decide what all this meant, decide what she was going to do now that everything had changed once again. The fax from Martin Wright had included a report from the coroner’s office. Now she knew why the charges had been dropped against Rain. Her mother’s accident had nothing to do with the tractor. Rain had been right. The tractor had been perfectly safe. Her mother had died instantly of cardiac arrest. The tractor was still moving and, without someone to steer, it had tipped trying to climb a hill.

  She put up her umbrella against the steady rain. Despite the miserable weather, the streets were still busy. Cars sped along the busy street, charging through puddles and sending up oily sprays of water over the legs of pedestrians. Emily hugged the inside of the sidewalk and looked without seeing into the windows of the expensive shops.

  She crossed the intersection at Bay Street, ignoring the blare of a motorist's horn as she stepped out into the road. Pedestrians and traffic whirled around her, but they seemed unreal. She felt as if she were the only person in a city of millions.

  The poster in the bookstore window jolted her back to reality. She would have known his face anywhere. The blue eyes. The blond hair. The smile that lit his features like the sun. She stared for a moment, her heart in her throat, tears in her eyes. She put her hand against the window as if to touch the image behind the glass.

  He had been photographed against a misty background of water and trees. She recognized it immediately as the farm. His farm. Oh god, what a fool I’ve been. Grouped around the base of the poster were copies of the book, the same misty blue photograph of the lake replicated on the cover. Love in a Strange Land by Ray Storm was written across the sky.

  Suddenly she wanted to hold the book in her hands, as if in holding the book she could be closer to him.

  She closed her umbrella and walked through the revolving glass door of the bookstore. It was a big shop, designed to be inviting to the shopper with wood floors and big armchairs grouped around gas fireplaces. She backtracked along the window until she came to the display of books. She picked one up and ran her hand over the warm, smooth cover.

  On the back was a review. “Like Romeo and Juliet, like Dido and Aeneas, the tale of Emily and Gabriel is one of the great love stories of all time.”

  She opened it carefully, looking first at the picture and bio on the back jacket flap. Ray Storm holds a PhD in history. He currently resides on the Alexander farm and teaches at a university in Eastern Ontario. This is his first book. The picture was a smaller version of the one on the poster. She stared at it for a long time before turning to the front of the book.

  On page three was the dedication. To Emily, with love, always. Emily felt the tears press against the corners of her eyes as she stared at the words. These words had been chosen by Rain long before last week when she'd shown up on his doorstep. They had been chosen at a time when everything indicated that she hated him and would never have anything ever again to do with him. How could he still love her after everything that had happened? She pressed the book against her chest and, with tears in her eyes, looked up at his face on the poster.

  All these years wasted in recrimination, bitterness, loneliness. What a terrible guilt Rain had lived with all this time. If only she had forgiven him, all this pain could have been avoided. But maybe it wasn’t too late for them. Maybe they could be happy after all. There was only one way to find out. She had to find him. She went to set the book back down and found that she couldn't. She wanted it with her as a reminder of his love.

  She took a big breath and wiped the tears from her eyes before going over to the checkout counter by the revolving doors. She placed the book down on the counter before one of the clerks and found her wallet in her purse. "Are you sure you don't want to get this signed?" asked the clerk.

  "Pardon me?" asked Emily.

  "You can get this signed. Ray Storm is giving a reading. He's upstairs right now," she said, pointing toward a set of stairs in the centre of the store. She took Emily's money and put the book in a bag before handing it back to Emily. "You should at least go up and listen for a while. He's every bit as gorgeous as his picture."

  Her heart racing, Emily nodded and quietly thanked the woman before heading in the direction of the stairs. Emily didn't know what she was going to say to him at such a public event, but she did know she couldn't walk away without seeing him.

  Rain was standing at the front of the crowd, his head bowed over the book. Emily slipped unnoticed into the audience, partially concealing herself behind one of the bookcases. Her heart began to beat less wildly as she listened to the now familiar story of her great-great-great-great grandmother Emily Alexander. The warm tones of Rain's voice soothed and reassured her. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his voice, and saw in her mind the lake and trees. She felt like she was home.

  "It was the story of their love that made me want to write this book," Rain explained after he finished the passage he was reading. "To me, this book is as much a love story as it is a historical document. It was a love that was so unlikely, and yet it endured and grew over half a century. Until I found the diaries and letters of Emily Alexander, it was also a secret love, known only to themselves and the child August. It is a story that has sustained me through some very difficult years.

  “This is also a story of forgiveness, another theme that is very important to me personally. It’s about forgiving those we love as well as ourselves. It’s about letting go and moving forward. When Gabriel came to their rescue, it was already too late for August. The child died later that winter. Such was Emily’s grief for the loss of her child that she blamed Gabriel.

  “But with the help of Gabriel, Emily learned to accept her loss, and the following summer they had a child of their own. Their child was also named August and, because of the prejudice of the local settlers, was passed off as the child she had had with her husband Michael. The Alexanders of Maple Tree Farm are the descendants not of Emily and Michael but of Emily and Gabriel, an English woman and a Mohawk.”

  Emily watched as Rain paused in the telling of his story. She could feel the hush of the audience as they listened to this story of love that had endured so much. Oh Rain, she whispered to herself. I forgive you. I forgive you. Can you ever forgive me? We could have been so happy together. Please, let it not be too late….

  "I’d like to finish off with Emily’s own words. This is the last entry in her diary. Christmas Day, 1869."

  Rain read in his rich voice. Emily closed her eyes and let the words speak to her.

  “I buried my love today.

  “As the sun appeared over the trees, he died in my arms. His last words were for me. He referred to that time long ago when he had saved me from certain death. I knew you were there waiting for me, he said. I only hoped I wasn't too late. And when I took you in my arms for the first time, I knew that I was home. My beautiful, beautiful Emily. Do you know how much I've loved you?

  “He died in my arms as the first light of dawn came through the windows of our cabin. I laid his precious, beautiful head against the pillows and went to the door. A gentle snow was falling and, against the soft light of dawn, I took it as a beautiful gift from Gabriel. How often over the last half century have I stood at this door, waiting for Gabriel to come home to me? Although he was gone every spring, I never doubted that the fall would bring him back to me.

  My secret love, who has warmed fifty‑two winters with his love and kindness. In this hard place, I have lived my life with a joy and a passion that I never thought was possible.

  “As I stood at the door, I saw them come silently as the snow through the trees. Gabriel’s friends, who knew this was his time to leave this earth and had travelled all this way to see his spirit off. We buried him under the pines at the top of the ridge. You can see the whole lake from there. His friends said their fa
rewells and started their long journey home. I will go to his grave often, but I know that his spirit is with me always. It is in the trees, the lake, the snow, the wind, the rain. Most importantly, it lives in my heart. It will keep me safe while I am here and will meet me with open arms on the other side when my time comes. In my mind, I see him standing at the door of a cabin like our own; it is his turn to wait. How joyous that meeting will be.

  “It is the legacy of Gabriel's love that I leave to my child, his children, their children, their children's children. They will know a love like we have known. Our love will reach down through the years and find them. They may try to resist true love as humans often do, but in the end they will open their hearts and know happiness. This is the greatest gift I could ever give.

  “It is still snowing. Soft, gentle snowflakes that brush against my cheeks like a kiss. Wait for me, my love.”

  Emily let the tears fall, but mixed with the sorrow was also a deep sense of inner peace. She knew now that nothing could stop their love. That despite the difficulties, it would endure. The white-tailed deer of her dream flitted through her mind, and she had the feeling that the spirits of her ancestors had been watching over her. She had their blessing. What else could she need?

  There was a deep hush over the crowd, and Emily could see tears glistening on more than one cheek. The hush was followed by thunderous applause and a standing ovation. Rain smiled warmly and thanked them before giving the mike over to the event’s host for a moment.

  “Thank you, Ray,” she said sincerely before turning to the audience. “You’re very fortunate to see Ray in such an intimate setting. My understanding is that the publisher is booking some very large venues for Ray in the next few weeks. If tonight’s crowd is any indication, this book is well on its way to being a bestseller. Rain will be here to sign copies after the reading. But first, are there any questions?”

  Emily stepped out from behind the bookcase. She didn’t raise her hand, but she felt Rain’s eyes on her immediately. “Emily,” he said, barely above a whisper. Startled, the audience turned in their seats, almost expecting to see the ghost of Emily Alexander at the back of the room. “No, not that Emily,” Rain explained, as if he’d read their minds. “But her great-great-great-great granddaughter.”

  “I sure wish I’d known her,” Emily said. The members of the audience knew that something was about to happen, that a drama was unfolding for real and not just between the covers of a book. Not that they weren't intrigued by Rain's reading – they were – but they knew it was just a warm up for what was happening before their eyes.

  Emily was oblivious to the eyes of the audience on her. She was speaking to Rain – he was the only person there for her. “She was a wise woman. Much wiser than I am. Do you think it’s true? Do you really think she is watching over me now? That I too will find the same love?”

  “It’s what has kept me going all these years,” Rain said quietly, also oblivious to the stares of the audience. “I’ve only prayed that what I’ve done is beyond forgiving.”

  “No, it’s me who needs forgiving, for being so selfish and stubborn. I should have seen the pain you were in.” She stopped and reached into her shoulder bag for the fax. “Martin Wright faxed this to my office today.” She started walking toward the podium, and the audience made a path for her. “But before I give it to you, I want you to know that it doesn’t matter. I should have forgiven you anyway.”

  Rain took the paper from Emily. And in a lowered voice, she explained the fax to him.

  “There’s a cover letter from Martin. Last week you gave Martin my father’s will. At the time, neither of you noticed a smaller envelope in the package. It had never been opened. My father made up his will shortly after my mother died. This probably arrived at the same time, and my father, assuming it had to do with his will, tucked it in without opening it. He probably forgot about it. Read it, Rain.”

  Rain read in silence for a moment, Emily watching his face intently. “There was nothing wrong with the tractor,” he whispered incredulously. “It was perfectly safe. It was an accident.”

  “Oh Rain, I’m so sorry. All these years wasted with blame.”

  “But there was a reason. At least that’s what I think your ancestor Emily would have said.” Suddenly Rain became aware of the audience again and wondered what to say to them. It was all so unreal. He stood there not quite believing he was awake. Maybe this was a dream. He reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, his heart swelling with more love than he thought it could hold. It was all over, he thought, the years of loneliness. He had prayed for this very moment – the moment Emily came back to him. Really came back to him. And there was a reason for all this. Now they knew just how absolutely precious love was and would never let anything come between them again.

  “Rain?” Emily whispered.

  “Yes, my love?” Rain said.

  “I want to go home, back to the farm. Our farm. Will you come with me?”

  “Of course,” he said, gathering her into his arms. “You’ll marry me?”

  “Yes, of course.” she answered as she looked into his eyes.

  Neither of them noticed when the audience started to applaud.

  Epilogue

  Overnight the snow fell. A deep white blanket to protect the earth through the long Canadian winter. Emily stands in the driveway wrapped in heavy shawl. The air is crisp and kisses the skin of her cheeks, infusing them with a healthy rose blush. She is looking across the yard at the barn, its walls the honey-gold colour of new wood, its roof brilliant red against the backdrop of pure white snow. The air is filled with the scent of freshly milled lumber. They moved the cows and horse in yesterday, driving them back from the neighbour's barn where they had been living since the fire. Not all the cows, however. Don had bought about half the herd, as half the barn would be given over to Rain’s new school.

  She had just come from the farmhouse where she had been giving the workmen their instructions for the day. Soon the kitchen would be finished. It now had a cathedral ceiling. A bank of French doors looked out into the snowy hillside where the occasional rabbit rummaged for green shoots. A cozy fire emanated from the enamelled stove, its dancing light reflected in the honey-pine floors. She and Rain planned to move in as soon as it was finished. For now they were staying in the cabin. They would continue to use the cabin even after they moved. Rain would do his writing there and she her designing.

  Her condo had been sold, and the firm handed over to her employees. Jonathon she had never seen again. The last she heard he had left Toronto and was living in the Cayman Islands. She was going solo now. It hadn't hurt her reputation however. When clients became aware that she was taking on less work, her services became even more valuable, and she was able to pick the projects she was most interested in. Not that she was taking work right now. First she had to design the cabins that would become the temporary homes of visiting writers.

  The spirit of renewal had spread beyond their own lives. Rain’s mother had read his book and had written him, and mother and son were united after years of estrangement.

  The barn door opened at that moment, and Emily watched the cows file out into the snowy yard, hesitant at first, not remembering what this dazzling white groundcover was. Steam rolled off their backs, and they raised their heads to the sky to sniff at the crisp air. But their curiosity for this new season was quickly abated by the sight of the manger of hay, and before long they were lined up, contentedly chewing.

  This was not farming out of necessity but for pleasure. Rain's book was selling extremely well, and he was looking forward to starting his next book. But success would never change Rain. He would always love what was simple and good: the farm, the country, the animals, the lake, the walks, a good book by a roaring fire...and Emily. She touched the ring that had once been her mother’s on her left hand with the fingers on her right, the promise of a spring wedding. She sighed. Never had she thought that such joy could be pos
sible. The joy of loving and being loved – and the joy of the absolute knowledge that this was a love that would never die.

  She watched him now as he came from the barn, leading Celeste by her halter. There would never come a time when she could look at him that her heart would not swell with love for him. He caught sight of her waiting for him. He raised his hand to her, his face filled with the unmistakable light of love, his love for her equal to hers for him. She waved and ran into his waiting arms.

  In the distance a white-tailed deer bounded through the snow and disappeared among the trees.

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