Bittersweet Rain

by Sandra Brown

  “I did,” she cried defensively. “You know how I’ve always loved this house. For that naive girl walking to work through the woods, it was like the castle in a fairy tale. I don’t deny that, Rink.”

  “Go on with your story. I’m fascinated. Was my father the Prince Charming of this fairy tale of yours?”

  “Of course not. It wasn’t anything like that. After Mama died, I spent more time here. He came to rely on me in business matters. Laura Jane and I became friends. Roscoe encouraged that since she didn’t have any friends her age.”

  Hurriedly she wet her lips. Greedily his eyes charted the action of her tongue. “It was something that happened gradually. It seemed right since I was already spending so much time here. When he asked me to marry him, I said yes. He could give me everything I’d always wanted and never could have any other way.”

  “A new name.”

  “Yes.”

  “Clothes.”

  “Yes.”

  “Money.”

  “Yes.”

  “A beautiful house.”

  “The one I’d always loved.”

  “For all that you sold yourself to my father!” he hissed.

  “In a way I suppose I did.” His repulsion made her feel dirty. She groped for justifications. “I wanted to be the constant friend Laura Jane needed. I wanted to help your father.”

  “So your motives were purely unselfish.”

  “No,” she confessed, lowering her eyes. “I wanted to live in The Retreat. I wanted the respect that would go along with being Roscoe’s wife. Yes, I wanted all that. And you’d have had to grow up in a shack, lived hand to mouth every day of your life, worn shabby clothes when other girls had dyed-to-match sweaters and skirts, worked every day after school and on Saturdays when all the other kids were riding around in convertibles and going to the Dairy Mart and football games, been the daughter of the town drunk before you’d understand that, Rink Lancaster!”

  On speaking his name she bolted off the glider, but he didn’t budge. She was brought up soundly against his body. His hands closed firmly around her upper arms and secured her against him. Their breathing was harsh and labored as though they had both been running hard.

  She wouldn’t lift her head and look at him. If she did, she didn’t know what she would do. So she stared into the V at the base of his throat, at the rapid pulse beating there. Her lower body felt heavy and thick, weak with passion. Her lips were rubbery as she tried to form words on them. “Please let me go, Rink. Please.”

  He ignored the plea. Instead he buried his face in the side of her neck. Helplessly, her head fell back. His lips rubbed back and forth over her skin, leaving behind the moist vapor of his breath to cool and excite.

  “Knowing that you’re my father’s wife, knowing the reasons you married him, why do I still want you?” With frantic desperation his head moved to the other side of her neck. Her head tilted to accommodate him.

  Feebly she protested her own responses. “No, no, Rink, don’t.”

  “I want you so much I hurt.” He kissed her neck with hot urgency. His teeth nipped her lightly. “I want you. Why, damn you, why?”

  Caroline groaned. “Oh, God, help me,” she breathed. More than anything, she wanted to surrender herself to him. She needed him as he needed her, to ease the years of misery they had both suffered. For a few precious moments, they wanted to forget everything but each other.

  But it was impossible. That knowledge gave her strength to resist and she renewed her efforts to get away from him.

  Just as quickly as he had embraced her, his hands released their grip and fell to his sides. He stepped backward, breathing rapidly and hard. Hastily she went to the front door.

  “Caroline.” His voice halted her and commanded that she turn around. “I’ve always had difficulty accepting things I didn’t like. I had no right to grill you that way. It was none of my business.”

  His image blurred through her tears. She knew the pride it had cost him to admit that. She smiled at him softly, a smile that said much that couldn’t be spoken aloud. “Wasn’t it, Rink?” she asked quietly. Then she let herself in and went upstairs.

  Lying on her bed, still clothed and too apathetic to undress, she stared up at the ceiling. And remembered. She hadn’t known whether to expect to see him the next day or not. But he had been there….

  “Hi.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Fishing.” He cocked his head toward the cane pole that was stuck in the mud near the riverbank. The line trailed in the water. He wasn’t fishing very ambitiously. “You’re earlier than yesterday.”

  She blushed and looked away from his dazzling smile. When she had left home half an hour early, she had sworn to herself that it wasn’t on the outside chance that he might be in the woods and that she would have some time to spare with him if he were. She had taken great care in dressing, wearing her best skirt and blouse, brushing her hair after she washed it until her scalp tingled, inspecting her fingernails.

  She had run home in the dark after leaving his car the night before. He had kissed her. And he had been tender afterward, asking if she were all right. But she hadn’t anticipated ever seeing him again.

  Only now he was here, sitting under the willows in short cutoff jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt and looking as confident and handsome as a movie star. The muscles of his athletic arms and legs bulged. The dusting of body hair on his limbs intrigued her, but when she looked at him too long at a time, her stomach began to do flip-flops.

  “I had Haney, that’s our housekeeper, pack some sandwiches. Do you like smoked turkey?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never eaten it.”

  “Well, you’re about to,” he said, grinning. He spread a quilt on the grass and asked her to sit down. Then he opened a hamper and handed her a plastic-wrapped sandwich. They chatted as they ate.

  “Are you going to start working in the gin? Smoked turkey is delicious, by the way.”

  “Glad you like it.” He rested his back against the trunk of the tree as he munched. “I guess I will,” he said thoughtfully. “If Daddy and I can ever come to terms on some things.” She wanted to ask what things but didn’t. He would think she was meddling in his business.

  But he glanced at her, saw her intent listening posture and went on. “See, Daddy doesn’t want to dip into the profits to make the gin better. He’s satisfied with it as it is. There are many ways we could improve it, update it, make it a safer place to work for our employees. I haven’t convinced him that some expensive investments right now would pay off in the long run.”

  “Maybe you could compromise with him on a few for a start.”

  “Maybe,” he remarked doubtfully. He reached into the hamper and pulled out a can of soft drink. He winked at her. “I’m dying for a cold beer, but I was afraid if I got caught drinking beer with someone as young as you, I’d be arrested.”

  If they were caught together, what they were drinking would be the least of their worries and they both knew it. They finished their lunch and Caroline conscientiously helped him put the leftovers back in the hamper. She took his place leaning against the tree trunk and he stretched out on his side and propped his head on his elbow. He looked up at her.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  Her eyes found his. “Your mama.”

  “Mother?” The surprise in his voice couldn’t be disguised.

  “I was sorry to hear when she died, Rink. She was a very nice lady.”

  “When did you meet her?”

  “I never did, but she used to come into Woolworth’s now and then. I always thought she was the… cleanest person I’d ever seen.”

  Rink laughed. “Yes, she was. I don’t ever remember her being less than immaculate.”

  “She was beautiful, and always dressed up so nice.” Her expression was soft. “What did she die of, Rink?”

  He studied the hem of her skirt, ran his index finger along the row of tin
y handmade stitches. “A broken heart,” he said in a low voice.

  Caroline saw the sadness on his face and it tugged at her heart. She wanted to press his head into her breasts, to comfort him, to run her fingers through his hair. “How could anyone be brokenhearted living in a house like yours?”

  He ignored her question and asked one of his own. “You like The Retreat?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “It’s the most beautiful house in the world,” she said worshipfully and he laughed. She blushed. “Well, at least it’s the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.”

  He seemed surprised. “You’ve been inside?”

  “Oh, no, never. But I’ve walked past it many times. I love to just stand and look at it. I’d give anything to live in a house like that.” She looked away self-consciously. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

  He shook his head. “I love The Retreat, too. I never get tired of looking at it either. I’ll invite you to see the inside sometime.”

  They both knew he wouldn’t, and for the next moment they couldn’t meet each other’s eyes. Finally Caroline said, “Your little sister is pretty. I saw her with your mother a few times.”

  “Her name is Laura Jane.”

  “I’ve never seen her at school. Does she go to a private school?”

  Rink plucked a blade of grass and bit into its stem. His teeth were very straight and very white. “A school for retarded children. She’s not severely retarded, but her mind was slow in developing. She doesn’t learn as quickly as other children.”

  Caroline’s cheeks burned. “I’m… I’m sorry… I didn’t—”

  “Hey,” he said, taking her hand. “It’s all right. Laura Jane is a wonderful little girl. I love her very much.”

  “She’s lucky to have a brother like you.”

  He propped his head on his hand again and looked up at her roguishly. Sunlight glistened on the black fringe of his eyelashes. “You think so?”

  “Yes.”

  They lapsed into one of those staring spells when words were superfluous. His eyes fell to her hand resting on her thigh. He lifted it, turned it over and lightly examined the faint lines etched in the palm. His finger trailed from her palm to the sensitive hollow in the bend of her elbow. His touch made her tingle all over. There was an uneasy fluttering in her chest and she marveled at her nipples, which were becoming hard and swollen.

  “I’ve got to go soon,” she said breathlessly.

  “I wish you didn’t have to,” he said huskily. His eyes traveled slowly up to meet hers. “I wish we could spend the day here, like this, talking.”

  Her heart was thudding. There was a roaring in her ears that blocked out all other sound save his voice. “I’m sure you could find plenty of your friends in town to spend the day with. They talk to you, don’t they?”

  “They outtalk each other,” he said. “No one listens, just listens, like you do, Caroline.”

  With his golden eyes locked onto hers, he sat up slowly. His hand lifted her hair off the back of her neck and closed around the slender column. He drew her close and she went without a hint of resistance until his mouth met hers. They melted together, murmuring their harmonizing groans of gratification.

  His lips were as gentle as the night before, but her sweet acceptance of them aroused him quickly. The kiss became more fiercely insistent.

  Caroline was carried along by his passion. Her soul spun crazily, caught up in his taste, his smell, the pressure of his body against hers. Soon she was lying across his bare thighs and he was bending over her. His tongue thrust madly into her mouth while her fingers tangled in the wild mass of his hair.

  He raised his head, panting for breath, dropping hot kisses on her face. “Caroline, fight me, say no. Don’t let me do this.” He moved the collar of her blouse aside and slipped his hand inside. Her skin was warm and silky against his palm. He toyed with the strap of her brassiere. His fingertips brushed against her flesh and he moaned. “You’re just a kid. A kid. God help me. You’re not old enough to know better, but I am. We’re playing with fire, sweetheart. Stop me. Please.” He kissed her again, deeply and thoroughly.

  A restlessness deep within claimed her. Her legs shifted in agitation. Her breasts throbbed achingly and she wanted to cover them with her hands. With his hands. She looped her arm around his neck and strained upward.

  But he pulled away, gulping for air, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “This can’t go any further, Caroline. If we don’t stop, things are going to get out of hand. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”

  Dumbly, she nodded, wishing he would hold her again, kiss her some more, touch with his hands all the places on her body that were feeling swollen and warm.

  He pulled her to her feet. She swayed against him and he held her close, stroking her back, whispering lovely words in her hair. Unashamedly, naturally, her arms went around his waist. When he pushed her away from him, his smile was rueful. “I would never forgive myself if I got you fired from your job,” he whispered.

  “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, slapping her palms to her flaming cheeks. “What time is it?”

  “You’ve got time if you leave right now.”

  “Bye,” she said, stuffing her blouse back into her waistband and shaking her hair to straighten it.

  He clasped her hand. “I won’t be able to pick you up tonight.”

  “I didn’t expect you to, Rink,” she said earnestly.

  “I want to, but I already had plans for tonight.”

  “It’s all right. Truly.” She began backing out of the clearing. “Thanks for the lunch.” Turning, she dashed through the trees. He went tearing after her.

  “Caroline!” He called out so masterfully that she stopped in her tracks and turned around.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Here. Okay?”

  Her face rivaled the sun for brilliance as she smiled at him. “Yes,” she had called back, laughing. “Yes… yes… yes…”

  He had come the next day and the day after that and the day after that and for most days for the next few weeks. And when he could, he picked her up at some point on her walk home.

  Caroline rolled to her side and stared at the moon through the branches of the trees outside her window. How glorious those days had been! She had lived in a haze of excitement, savoring the feelings his kisses generated and miserable because she yearned for something more. He shared his dreams of the future with her and she confided her secrets. They communed on a level that neither had known with anyone else.

  Every stolen hour they had spent together had been golden and only partially because of the summer sun. Because one day when they met, it had rained.

  That day had been the most golden of all.

  Caroline hiccuped a sob and let the tears stream unchecked from her eyes. She prayed for forgiveness but didn’t think she was absolved. Because she tried to weep for Roscoe, her husband, but her tears were all for Rink, her love.

  Chapter 5

  Caroline slept later than she had intended. She put on a robe and went down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee before going into the library to work. Haney was humming as she stood at the sink washing dishes. She disdained the automatic dishwasher.

  “Good morning. You sound happy.”

  “Rink ate a good breakfast,” she said, beaming.

  Caroline smiled. The housekeeper talked about him as though he were a four-year-old. “He’s already up and about?”

  “Yep.” Haney nodded at the back door and Caroline wandered toward it, sipping her coffee as she went. Rink was standing beside one of the Lancaster prize horses talking to Steve. As she watched, he vaulted into the saddle, swung his long leg over it and secured his booted foot in the stirrup. The stallion pranced arrogantly before Rink pulled sternly on the reins. The horse responded immediately and after Rink nodded his thanks to Steve, horse and man went bounding across pastureland toward the road.

  Caroline watched for as long as she could see
him. His hair was as black and shiny as jet in the early morning light. Thigh and back muscles rippled as he effortlessly jumped a fence and guided the horse into the trees.

  When Caroline turned away, Haney was staring at her curiously. Nervously Caroline’s hand went to her throat. “I need to make some calls, so I’ll be in the library,” she rattled off before hastily leaving the kitchen. She couldn’t help her absorption with Rink, but she would have to guard against anyone else becoming aware of it.

  The nurse’s station at the hospital had little to report when she telephoned. “He isn’t awake yet. He slept through most of the night. He woke up once but we immediately gave him another sedative.”

  “Thank you,” she said before breaking off the call and dialing Granger. “Is there anything I should be doing that I’m not?” she asked the attorney. “I don’t want to presume that I have anything to do with Roscoe’s professional or private dealings, but I want to be useful if I can be.”

  “I would never think you presumptive,” Granger said kindly. “And it’s your right to be concerned.”

  “I’m not concerned for myself. I just want to make certain that Laura Jane’s affairs are taken care of. And Rink’s, of course.”

  The attorney remained silent and Caroline knew he was reminding himself of professional discretion. “I don’t know all of Roscoe’s intentions, Caroline. Swear to God I don’t. He made up a new will several years ago, but he’s asked to see me about it. I’m sure some provision will be made for you. I don’t think there will be any surprises.”

  She fervently hoped not, too, but didn’t express her anxiety that there might be. After discussing a few minor business items, they said their good-byes.

  As soon as she hung up, the telephone rang again. “Hello?”

  “Miz Lancaster?”

  The racket in the background told her the call was originating at the cotton gin. “Yes.”

  “This is Barnes. ’Member that gin stand I was telling you about the other day? This morning she sounded like she was grinding her guts out, so we shut her down.”

  Caroline rubbed her temple. This was a breakdown they couldn’t afford with cotton picking time approaching. The gin stands separated the lint from the seeds. With even one breakdown during harvest, hours of production time could be lost.