A Gentle Rain

by Deborah Smith

  Mac had an arm around Lily. Lily turned from the stall door and smiled at me. `Babies! Miss Doolittle and Cougar had twin babies! Wait 'til Karen gets back! She'll be so happy! She likes babies a lot."

  "She told you she'd be back by evenin'?"

  "Yes." Lily's smile wavered. "It's not evening yet, is it? Evening doesn't start until the sun goes down behind the marsh. Why do you look worried?"

  Think quick. "Aw, I just ... I told her I'd make sure Big Blue gets his ... afternoon peanuts. Where is he?"

  Lily brightened. "Karen left him in our trailer. When it gets real hot he likes air conditioning."

  "I'll go feed him."

  I left at a long, fast stride. I broke into a trot after I crossed the river bridge, then a full run once I was out of sight on the path through the woods. I ran past the cabins and other trailers, slid to a stop by Mac and Lily's daisy-filled little yard, leapt up the steps and slung their door open. It led right into their little kitchen and dining nook. No bird. "Big Blue!" I yelled.

  Silence.

  I headed into the living room. No bird. "Darcy!"

  Nothing. Not so much as a squawk.

  I went down a narrow hall past pictures of daisies. Past the door to Mac and Lily's bedroom. At the end of the hall I put a hand on the doorknob of their guest room. Lily had even painted a daisy on the knob. I took a deep breath and shoved the door open.

  Mr. Darcy was hunkered on a wooden perch by the window. He untucked his bright-blue head from under a wing and looked up at me sleepily. "Jesus Saves," he said, and yawned. "Praise the Lord," he added. Dale had been teachin' him Bible lingo.

  I exhaled a long breath and sat down slow on a daisy-painted wooden chair. I stared at Karen's hair brush and suntan lotion on the daisy-fled dresser. The grungy canvas totes she used for luggage bags hung from a hook on the back of the closet door. Her daisy pajamas were laid out on the daisy bedspread, and her extra pair of hippy sandals was squared up neat beside the bed.

  So she wasn't so hurt that she'd decided to cut out early. Thank the Lord.

  My eyes went to a stack of notebooks on her nightstand. Half of `em looked new; the other half were dog-eared and ruffled. A handful of ink pens lay on top of the stack. I was on my feet and over there before my brain kicked me. I moved the pens off, opened the top notebook, and flipped through the first few pages.

  Lists. Daily lists. Wildlife seen, birds counted, calves vaccinated, foals weaned. Her menus. What she made for lunch yesterday. Colorful sayin's she heard from the pharmacist in Fountain Springs. All sorts of funny and interesting details about life in these parts. The kind of thing hardly anybody notices.

  She noticed.

  I frowned. What to make of this? My fingertips ruffled the next pages; I started to read those, too. Then it hit me that this was a low thing to do. She'd never snuck in my office and looked around.

  I shut the notebook, put the pens back on top, and walked outside. I'd probably never understand her, never find out where she came from or where she was going. But the knot in my gut told me that if she did leave, if I walked into her room and saw no sign of her at all, it'd be the emptiest room in the world.

  Kara

  Sedge and I stood at the enormous window of a high-rise Jacksonville hotel, overlooking the St. Johns River and downtown. "I rather like it here," Sedge went on. "The view is reminiscent of Shanghai's harbor circa nineteen fifty-five, albeit with cabin cruisers and steel bridges instead of barges loaded with opium."

  I took his hand. "I'm really glad you came to town to watch me compete."

  "I wouldn't miss it. Malcolm's flying in tonight. We'll take a car to Orlando tomorrow. He's very excited."

  "Sedge. It's almost autumn. You don't need to worry about my situation, anymore. I'm leaving the ranch soon."

  He studied me with a frown. "I should be glad to hear this."

  "Indeed."

  "What's wrong?"

  "I'm no closer to finding out the truth about my birth. Maybe Mac and Lily will be better off if they aren't caught between me and Glen. And I don't think I have a future with Ben. He's never going to be comfortable with another woman who, in his mind, has the power to awn him."

  "I'm so sorry. I really am."

  "He's a wonderful man."

  "Do you wish you hadn't come to Florida?"

  "No. Never. I want to stay involved with the ranch. I want to come up with some way to channel more `good luck' towards Ben after I leave. And I intend to be part of Mac and Lily's lives, even from a distance. I won't allow Glen to separate them, ever. It's important that Ben have resources, so that Glen can't manipulate him or them. I may not be able to take care of them personally, but they'll always be my ... "

  I halted.

  "Your parents," Sedge supplied gently. "It's all right to call them that."

  "I love them, even though I'm not meant to be acknowledged as their daughter."

  Sedge nodded again but didn't look victorious. "After you leave, you and I will sit down and brainstorm several subtle but lucrative business opportunities that will just happen to find their way into Ben's path."

  I looked up at him tearfully. "Water buffalo. I want him to have some water buffalo."

  Ben

  That evening I hunkered down over the desk in my office. I tried to concentrate on payin' bills but my mind was all on Karen.

  Miriam knocked at the door. "Karen's back. She's gone to the barn to watch baseball. She brought Joey a gallon of his favorite ice cream. Just thought you should lalow."

  I made a big show of not hurrying to the community TV room upstairs at the barn, but I got there double-quick. Everybody was sprawled on couches, eating the popcorn Karen made from scratch. She'd banned microwave bags. Something about chemicals in the papers, she said.

  Joey, holding a giant bowl of ice cream, grinned at me from his wheelchair. Mac and Lily looked from me to Karen, hopeful-like, and back again. Karen glanced up from a hotplate in the makeshift kitchen in one corner. She dumped another fresh stewpot of popcorn into a crockery bowl. Her face was pinched and pale; her blue eyes were huge and sad. "Find what you went looking for in Jacksonville?" I asked.

  She studied me like I was studying her-like she wanted to hug me or cry. "It was just a day trip to the big city," she finally said. "I brought Joey some ice cream. And I purchased a daisy-print rug for Lily and Mac's guest bathroom. And I bought Mr. Darcy a new toy. He flung his wooden chew blocks in the marsh the other day, attempting to hit a cormorant that was diving for minnows. I believe he considers cormorants unnatural. No bird should dive underwater, in his opinion."

  This was a strange conversation, even by our standards. But I was just so glad to see her.

  "Damn sneaky cormorants," I said.

  She smiled.

  We looked away from each other.

  Part Four

  "There will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better; we find comfort somewhere."

  -Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

  Chapter 24

  Kara

  The Groves Arena, Orlando

  "What's wrong?" Lily asked, clutching my hand as we stood beside an enormous, covered arena in the midst of J.T. Jackson's enormous "elite living" community. The Groves was only a few miles from Disney World. "You look so sad. I'm scared. Look at all these people! Are you scared? Do you wish you were in the fashion show? I'm glad you're not. I don't want people to look at you in your underwear."

  "I'm just thinking hard, that's all," I told Lily. "And I'm glad I'm not in the fashion show, too. Thank goodness."

  The Million Dollar Cowgirl Barrel Racing Ride-Off was a multi- legged promotional event designed to advertise J.T. Jackson as a major power-broker, a human brand. Like a spider on steroids, it aimed to catch every dollar that fluttered past.

  The Ride-Off was the centerpie
ce of an elaborate three-day festival that included arts, food, music, a children's rodeo and TV-friendly events such as the Wild Cowgirl Lingerie Fashion Show, hosted by Tami Jo Jackson. The fashion catwalk featured her and her hand-picked girlfriends from the horse show world. Camera crews from World Sports Network were covering it from all angles.

  I couldn't care less. My focus was the barrel race. Estrela and I had to post two high scores on Friday and Saturday to get us into the top twenty on Sunday night. On Sunday night, the top twenty horses would each run three times, and the one who scored the highest average for the night would get the million dollars. The Groves Arena would hold twentythousand people.

  On Sunday night, it was sold out.

  Estrela and I had no logical chance of making the finals. We would probably be run over by camera crews, first. I had been interviewed five times today, and it wasn't even ten a.m. yet.

  "Let's go buy a latte and some granola for breakfast," I told Lily. After a night spent tossing in an Orlando motel room, I needed caffeine and whole grains.

  "What's latte and granola?"

  "Coffee and cereal, only over-priced."

  We walked to a tent in the gourmet food pavilion in the contestants' area. Security guards glanced at our holographic badges then waved us through. Parked beyond the tents were lines of fabulous horse trailers. No, not just trailers. Horse RV's. These were the high-end travel accommodations ofprofessional barrel racers who crisscrossed the country with their championship horses and trainers.

  "Look at those horse buses!" Lily said.

  "The horses live in the back. The riders live in the front."

  "That one's almost as big as mine and Mac's trailer! And lots fancier."

  I smiled at her. "But yours doesn't smell like a barn."

  She giggled. We found a table in the dining tent and ate breakfast. I ordered take-out for Ben and Mac, who were camped out beside Estrela's stall. Tom D. Dooley, Shakey Baker and other neighbors were caring for Ben's ranch during the weekend. Miriam and Lula would arrive by afternoon, bringing Joey and the rest of the hands.

  And the first night of competition would begin at six p.m.

  My knees shook.

  "Come out," Lula ordered.

  "Or we're coming in to get you," Miriam seconded.

  I was inside Ben's horse trailer. Unlike the elegant `horse buses,' which had dressing rooms, I changed clothes among Estrela's hay bags and water buckets. "Do I have to wear the hat?" I said through the vent of the side door.

  "Yeah, " Lula said. "All the barrel-racing cowgirls wear hats. It's a rule."

  "Hopefully, it will blow of"

  "Not when we get through bobby pinning it to your scalp."

  "I hope you don't mean that literally."

  "Come out, Karen," Lily coaxed.

  "Come out," Dale ordered. "Jesus loves you, no matter what you look like."

  I stepped out furtively. I had nothing against western attire, but I felt like a faux cowgirl on a dude ranch. Even Roy and Dale looked more authentic than I, in their extravagantly fringed and piped shirts.

  But Miriam, Lula, Lily and Dale smiled.

  "Cute as a lightning bug in the swamp on a summer night," Lula said.

  I was hoping to resemble something with fewer legs and a smaller tail.

  Ben

  The womenfolk practically had to drag Karen to the staging area in the arena. It was three in the afternoon, and the promoters had scheduled photo sessions of the riders and horses. Possum held Estrela, who looked pretty spiffy with her saddle oiled to a dark sheen and her gray coat curried to a shine.

  Yeah, she was still a scar-faced unknown next to the slick pro horses with their high-tech gear, but by that point we'd all made our peace with being the dark horse in the event. At least we were there. A miracle in its own right.

  "Here she is, our cowgirl star," Miriam brayed. "Who cares if she didn't get asked to be in Tami Jo's underwear show?" She pulled Karen from behind a curtain used to separate the public alleys from the backstage, which included the warm-up ring and temporary stalls where the horses could rest.

  Me and the other Thocco men folk did a double take. Except for her blue jeans, Karen was all pink. Pink boots. A pink western shirt with dark-pink piping. A pink ribbon was woven into her braided hair. And she wore a pink western hat with a turquoise-studded hat band, courtesy of the Fountain Springs Civic Association, which had presented the fancy hat to Karen at a ceremony before we left for Orlando.

  I looked at her and thought, ft's sexy. Works for me. "You'll do," I said gruffly.

  Her eyes narrowed. "Don't flatter me. I know I'm extremely pink. I told Lily I'd wear any color she chose. I didn't realize she'd pick pink."

  "You don't like looking like a cowgirl? Pink or not, you're dressed for a rodeo."

  "It's a uniform I haven't earned. Perhaps that's why it feels awkward."

  "Then go and earn it."

  She rose to the bait. Her chin came up. She adjusted her pink hat. "All right, I will."

  Tami Jo Jackson wasn't happy.

  At the photo shoot the TV producer announced the order of competition for that night, and the list put both Tami To and Karen in the last twenty. "Those are the premium slots," Tami To complained loudly in front of all the other riders, the photographers, and a whole bunch of World Sports Network staff

  "Those are the competitors the audience waits for. You're supposed to schedule the best-known people and the champion horses last." She pointed at Karen. "Why are she and that ugly little mare being put into one of the prime final spots?"

  A brave network producer stepped forward. "The sponsors and the marketing people set it up," Ms. Jackson.

  "I want it changed."

  "I'm sorry, but it's too late."

  "I'll talk to my daddy!"

  "Ms. Jackson, this was an executive decision. This is about showmanship. People in the audience want to see the underdog compete. They'll stay late to see that."

  "I'm filing a complaint. And so will everyone else."

  A lot of the barrel racers scowled at Tami Jo, like they were thinking, `Don't bet on it,' since her little hissy fit made them sound like a waste of her air space. But her circle of toadies darted evil looks Karen's way.

  "They hate me," Karen whispered to me. "They hate me for being here, for stealing their spotlight. And most of all, they hate me for not having earned this right. I bought it."

  "So did they. Fifty grand each."

  "Yes, I know. But they have credentials, and I don't."

  "You don't belong here," Tami Jo yelled at Karen. "You're nothing! You're no one!"

  Karen flared up like a red-headed torch. "Step a little closer when you say that. I have a fist here that will fit the contour of your front teeth nicely."

  "Go ahead and hit me with your chubby, freckled fist. I dare you!"

  I toted Karen halfway back to the trailer before she calmed down enough to be trusted on her own pink-booted feet. I turned her to face me. "Don't you get it? If you punch one of the other riders, you'll get disqualified for unsportsmanlike behavior. She's trying to psych you out. And you're lettin' her."

  Karen groaned. "You're right."

  "Focus. Concentrate. This is a game, and you gotta have the right attitude. Why do you care what she calls you? You're not fat. You're built like a brick ... you're solid. I like every single curve you got, and then some."

  She shook her head. "Look, I know I'm still a few pounds overweight. I'll never be a petite little flower. I've made my peace with that fact. But there are times when someone says the wrong thing to me and I turn back into the little girl everyone at boarding school called `Porky.' When that happens, watch out."

  "Boarding school? You went to board n' school?"

  She got real still, then winced. Finally she sagged a little and nodded. "We'll talk about my personal history next week, remember? For the moment, could you just forget I said that?"

  I frownied. "Yeah. You bet."

&
nbsp; "Thank you."

  Boarding school.

  "Dear Jesus," Dale prayed softly, in the middle of our circle beside the horse trailer, "Please watch over Karen and Estrela and let their race time come in at no more than fifteen-and-a-half seconds, because Ben says that's what the top horses usually run." Amen."

  "Amen," everyone else chorused. When I looked at Karen, who held Mac's big hand on one side and Lily's on the other, she was crying.

  "Don't cry, you'll piss off the network's make-up people," Miriam ordered, pushing the rest of the ranch crew aside and dabbing a tissue under Karen's raccoon-black eyelashes.

  Karen sucked up her tears and nodded. "Deep breath. There. Sorry. Fifteen-and-a-half seconds sounds very short, sometimes."

  Joey looked up at her from his wheelchair. "Remember, we don't care ifyou win or not, we love you, anyway." Mr. Darcy bobbed on his shoulder, as if understanding. Roy, Cheech, Possum, Bigfoot and Lula nodded. Lily hugged Karen and Mac patted her on her braided red hair. They pressed a fresh cut daisy into her hand. Karen tucked it into her hatband.

  Then she looked up at me like my approval was what she needed most.

  My throat was too tight for words. I gave her a thumbs-up and hoped she understood.

  I headed to the stands with Joey, the ranch crew, over fifteen thousand fellow spectators, and the world, via World Sports Network. Karen had shooed me away from the staging area. "Joey needs you beside him," she'd said, "and the fewer people who watch me hyperventilate, the better."

  True. But Mac and Lily couldn't stand it. They stayed behind to keep her company.

  The arena folks gave the rest of us a VIP spot with easy rollil' access for Joey's wheelchair. Mr. Darcy bobbed on Joey's shoulder. People all around us kept takin' pictures of him and the bird. Joey grinned and waved.