Feels like Rain (Lake Fisher Book 3)

by Tammy Falkner

  “Can you find somebody who needs them?” I ask her, rocking my head toward the bouquet.

  She knows what I mean. After the first two, I started asking the nurses to find people in the hospital who never got visitors, or old people who didn’t have anyone to care for them, or teenagers who might like the pick-me-up, or—hell, anyone who would appreciate them. They’ve been giving them out to people who are a lot more deserving.

  I round the corner and stop when I come face to face with Imogene and Derrick, my former mother- and father-in-law. Imogene is in a wheelchair, but she’s wearing street clothes and has a travel bag in her lap. She kind of looks like she’s on the way out the door.

  “We were just on the way to see you, Ethan,” Imogene says quietly. She can barely look me in the eye.

  Abigail makes a rude noise and tugs my elbow to get me moving.

  “Please don’t go just yet,” Imogene says, her voice a little louder now. “I need to thank you.”

  “No need,” I mutter carelessly. “Glad you’re okay.” I walk on past her and down the hallway.

  “No, please wait,” she says a little louder. “I’m sorry!” Every person unlucky enough to be in the hallway freezes. “I’m sorry for the way we treated you!” she says again, her voice rising.

  Abigail heaves out a sigh and looks at me, asking me what I want to do. I walk back to the pair of them. I’ve seen Derrick hanging out outside my hospital room. I could see him through the window. He stood there, staring at nothing, like he’s contemplating life. But not once did he try to come into my room. Not that my mom or Abigail would have let him, but still.

  I come to a stop and stand in front of them, prepared to let them have their say. Suddenly, Imogene clams up.

  Abigail rolls her eyes. “You’d be dead right now if not for him.” She jerks her thumb in my direction. “He saved your life, even after you treated him terribly.”

  “I know.” Imogene’s voice is so quiet that I can barely hear it.

  “Let it go,” I say quietly to all three of them. “It’s no big deal. I didn’t even know who I was helping. It was too dark, there was too much water…” A shudder wracks my body as I relive flashes of that incident, but I shake it off. “It didn’t matter who you were. I had to do what I could. So let’s just forget it and go our separate ways.”

  I’m turning away when Imogene says, “Well, just know that I’m grateful to you.”

  “Why should he care if you’re grateful or not?” Abigail asks fiercely. Her cheeks are pink with anger, and her back is ramrod straight. “He didn’t do it for your gratitude. He did it because it was the right thing to do.” She huffs out a breath and stares them down.

  “I love you so much,” I say to her.

  Imogene sucks in a breath, like my telling Abigail I love her hurts Imogene.

  “Why did you drive into the rising water?” I decide to ask her. I’ve been curious about that since the night it happened. Her husband is the fire chief. Of course, he’s warned her about the dangers of flooding.

  She shakes her head, looking chagrined. “I didn’t know it was that high,” she admits. “I’ve driven across that bridge many times over the years, even with several inches of water over it. I thought that was all it was, but as I got further and further across the bridge, the water started to lap at the sides of the car. Then the engine stalled out and I was stuck. I couldn’t get the windows down without the engine, and then the door wouldn’t open because of the force of the water. It rose so fast…so fast! I couldn’t get out.”

  “I went in through the sunroof,” I remind her.

  She nods. “You saved my life. You didn’t have to.” She squeezes Derrick’s hand where it’s resting on her shoulder. “But we are so grateful that you did.”

  “As I said, I didn’t know it was you until after.”

  “Fair enough,” Derrick says. “But you’d have saved her anyway, even had you known, because that’s who you are.” His eyes fill up with tears, and he blinks them back. “The first time Melanie brought you home to meet us, I didn’t like you,” he says frankly.

  I try to grin but I’m afraid it’s more of a smirk. “I didn’t particularly think much of you two either.” They were pompous jerks who looked down their noses at me, a working-class guy.

  “But then we saw the way you loved her,” Derrick says. He swipes at his nose. “The day I placed her hand in yours at the altar, I felt confident that you would take care of her for the rest of her life.”

  Something tugs at my heart. Hard. “I’m sorry I let you down,” I say honestly. And I genuinely am sorry.

  He shakes his head. “You didn’t let me down. You didn’t let her down. A tragic accident happened, and I tried to treat you like you did it on purpose, mainly because my heart was broken after my daughter’s death.” His voice breaks as he lays his hand upon his chest. “That’s a hole that can never be filled.”

  “I did my time, and then you made sure I’d have to do a little more,” I remind him.

  He lets out a chuckle, but there’s no warmth or laughter in it. “Oh, I wanted you to do more than that. I wanted you to pay.” He holds his fist in front of him and squeezes tightly, and I can see his knuckles go white from the pressure.

  “I loved her,” I say to both Imogene and Derrick. “I really did.” I look at Abigail’s face, wanting to be sure I haven’t hurt her with my declaration. But she looks fine. She looks like my verbal diarrhea isn’t bothering her in the slightest. “I’m ready to go back to my room,” I tell her, my knees a little wobbly from standing for so long.

  Abigail nods and puts an arm around me to support me while she leads me back to the room.

  “Can you accept our apology? Please?” Imogene calls out.

  I say nothing, and I let Abigail lead me back to my room. I sit down on the edge of the bed, the trauma of the past few days finally catching up with me. But it’s only a second before Abigail charges out of the room.

  I can hear her, but I can’t see her.

  “You don’t get to do that!” she cries. I can see her in my mind’s eye with her finger pointed in their faces. “You don’t get to ask for his forgiveness and then sit blindly by while he gives it. Your needs don’t matter right now. He’s been fighting for his life, all because he saved yours, so give him some time to get better before you force his hand, will you please? Thank you.”

  “But—” Imogene begins. I wince when I hear it, because I know what a shit-storm it will produce.

  “No buts!” Abigail cries. “No buts! Now go away so he can get some rest.”

  Suddenly, Imogene lets out a laugh. “Melanie would have loved you.”

  “Thank you,” Abigail replies. “I guess.”

  “No, she really would. She would have adored the way you take up for him. She would have loved it. And I’m sure she would have loved you, all because he does.”

  “Thank you,” Abigail says again. “Are we done here?”

  I imagine her standing there staring at them with her hands on her hips.

  “Yes, we’re done,” Imogene says.

  Abigail walks back into my room, and I can hear Imogene in the hallway telling Derrick, “She’s really quite something, isn’t she?”

  “She rather is,” Derrick replies. “Even reminds me a little of Melanie, truth be told.”

  “You okay?” I ask her as I lift my feet back onto the bed, and Abigail quickly arranges the covers around me.

  “Fine,” she snaps.

  I stare at her. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No.” She picks up my slippers and puts them in the cabinet.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.” She balls her hands into fists and props them on her hips. “They just make me so mad. They can’t even apologize without it being all about them, or even say a simple thank you, for that matter.”

  She jerks a pillow from behind my head and plumps it. I watch as she beats the pillow, glad it’s not me she’s mad a
t.

  “I’m ready to go home. I miss my cabin. I miss my bed. I miss Mitchell.”

  She snorts. “Gran has been spoiling him rotten. He’s going to stink like spoiled seven-year-old by the time you get back.” She shoots me a playful grin. “They’ve been playing UNO, Connect4, and Sorry, all week. Gran has loved every second.”

  I grin. “He told me when he called this morning.”

  Her brow furrows. “Where was I this morning?”

  “HR, maybe?”

  She grins. “Because I am about to be a woman with a job!” She lifts her arm in the air and flexes her muscles. “Hear me roar,” she calls out in a whisper-yell.

  Yesterday, she’d gone down to the HR department and given them her resume. With a glowing reference from the last hospital she worked at—yes, the one with Sandra—she’d immediately gotten the job. She will be working in maternity, doing three long shifts a week.

  She gives me a self-conscious look. “I hope they didn’t see that little display. They would fire me before I can even get started. Oh! And more good news. Your son has started calling me Abby,” she says. She gives me a little sideways grin when she says it. “And I think it’s kind of cute.”

  I pull my chin back and stare at her. “You must really love him.”

  Her smile goes soft. “Oh, I really, really do.”

  “About as much as you love me?” I grab her sleeve and drag her close to me.

  She taps her chin, considering. “Maybe more, actually. His feet don’t stink quite as bad as yours.” I yank her to me, and she falls against my chest, very careful of my incisions as she gently lays her head on me. I brush her curls down but they just pop right back up.

  “The day that your divorce goes through, you’re going to have to marry me so that you can keep me from a life of living in sin.”

  She narrows her eyes and glares at me. “There’s no sin in what we do. Unless I’ve missed something.”

  “You’re going to have to make an honest man of me.”

  “You’re already honest. Try something different.” She lifts her head to stare at me, propping her chin carefully on my chest.

  “It’ll make Mitchell so happy. He desperately wants you to be his mom.”

  She finally softens. “That’s a good reason to get married,” she says.

  I nod and stare into her eyes. “It’s all about the kid with you, huh?”

  “Yep.” She lets her lips pop on the p. “You loved your late wife. Really loved her.”

  I freeze. “I did.” I can’t lie about that.

  “Does what we have feel the same?”

  I shake my head. “Completely different.”

  “How?” She stares into my eyes, and I see genuine curiosity there.

  “I can’t explain it. I just know that I worry about you when you’re not with me. I think about you all the time. I can’t wait to go to bed with you every night. And when I wake up in the morning with you next to me, everything feels right. So please don’t make it feel wrong by comparing my love for her and my love for you. There is no comparison.”

  “I want to put up some pictures of her. For Mitchell.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  “And I want to take him to her grave, if he ever has a desire to do so.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I desperately want to get on top so I can ride you the moment you get home.”

  I grin and press my lips against the side of her neck. “I think I can accommodate all your wants.”

  “That’s all a woman can ask for. To get all of her needs met, and most of her wants.” She sucks in a breath. “I fell in like with you so fast. I thought it must be wrong, the way it happened.”

  “And now what do you think?”

  “I think it’s supposed to happen the way it happens, and if I try to apply a timetable to it, I’ll just be left unsatisfied and confused.”

  She leans over and kisses me. I speak against her lips. “Can we circle back to you being on top as soon as we get home?”

  She kisses me, shushing me effectively. But one thing is certain. She’s the one who is meant for me. Because being in like with her was great, but being in love with her…well, that’s perfect.

  40

  Abigail

  Nine months after Ethan came home from the hospital, I started to find copies of bridal magazines in the little free library box at the lake. Then I found some brochures about choosing the perfect wedding cake. And another about flowers. Ethan made it very clear that he wanted to marry me.

  And today, as I sit with Mitchell in the front row of the little church in the middle of Macon Hills, the same church that Ethan went to as a child, I can’t help but think that I’m going to be ready to marry him really soon.

  Ethan opens the doors at the back of the church, and his eyes find mine where I’m seated in the front row. He reaches back and guides his mother through the door. She falters, and he reaches out to steady her. Her eyes find Shawn’s where he stands at the front of the church next to the preacher.

  Sheila, Ethan’s mom, chose a very simple ceremony. Shawn is wearing a suit instead of a tux, and she’s wearing a simple gown in a blush color. Ethan winks at me as he walks past us, his mother’s arm tucked into his. He delivers her to the front of the church, to Shawn. The man is beaming, and she’s teary-eyed, and I get all misty-eyed too.

  When Ethan first met Shawn, I wasn’t sure if Ethan liked him, but he knew his mother had put her life on hold for a very long time, mainly because of him, and he knew he had to support her. So he’d set aside his fears and trusted that his mom knew her own heart. He’s supported her through it all.

  Now, he kisses her on the cheek, shakes Shawn’s hand, steps back, and comes to sit next to me. I take his hand as he sits down and find it shaking. “Are you okay?” I whisper, suddenly worried for him.

  “My dad would be really happy today,” he whispers as emotion clogs his throat. “So happy.”

  I wipe my eyes as the ceremony continues, and Mitchell leans on me throughout the service.

  Afterward, all the people come back to the lake, where Mr. Jacobson has prepared a post-wedding barbecue. Tables and chairs are set up, and we put up decorations last night.

  The bride and groom arrive right after us, and Shawn holds up Sheila’s hand as they get out of the car. Then he picks her up and swings her around.

  “She looks so happy,” I say to Ethan.

  “So does he,” he says with a grin. He kisses the tip of my nose.

  Ethan quit his job with the Jacobsons a month ago when he found a job in his field. Ethan got his college degree in engineering, but he had never been able to work in his chosen field. But after the flood, random job offers had started to come in, many from places where he had applied before and been declined. The right job at the right place working for the right people had opened up.

  The Jacobsons had been overjoyed for him, and they had let him go without a fuss. We had bought a small house closer to the hospital, and Ethan had bought the little lake cabin we had lived in and we use it every weekend. I’d gotten a pretty nice settlement in my divorce, so I’d been able to help with both house purchases. Sandra had forced Charles to meet all my demands and, as soon as the checks had been signed, sent, and cashed, she’d left him, and she’d never gone back.

  Gran uses her cabin even more than she used to, now that she has a great-grandson, Mitchell, whom she adores.

  “You ready to marry me yet?” I ask close to his ear. I stare at his profile, waiting for his response.

  Ethan goes completely still. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, I’m serious.”

  He brushes my hair back behind my ear as he gazes into my eyes. “You just made me the happiest man in the world.”

  “I thought I did that last night,” I say, furrowing my brow in mock confusion.

  “Well, then too,” he says with a grin. He hugs me tightly to him.

  Gran walks over close to us as she hel
ps Mitchell fill his plate. “You two look like you are so in love,” she says.

  “We are,” I reply. I brush a lock of hair back from his forehead. I’ve never doubted that I love Ethan, or that he loves me back. If someone had told me that love could feel like this, I would never have believed them.

  Suddenly, a ruckus erupts from the edge of the picnic area where we’ve set up the party. “Look at that!” I say, catching Ethan’s attention.

  We knew from the tracking device that Wilbur flew back one day last week, but we hadn’t seen him.

  “Is that Wilbur?” Mitchell asks, and he’s already grinning.

  But it’s Ethan who’s amazed. Because Wilbur walks right over to him, hops on top of Ethan’s foot and sits down, the same way I’ve seen him do a million times, and hangs out there a moment. Ethan bends down and tickles his neck, as the duck rubs his head around on Ethan’s knee. Then he hops down. He quacks loudly, almost trumpeting, and over the rise comes another duck. She’s colored like him, and I’m pretty sure they’re a pair.

  But what’s amazing is that right after her toddle eleven little ducklings. They walk in a straight line over to Wilbur and they start to peck around in the grass. “Wilbur’s a dad,” Ethan says quietly, sheer wonder in his tone.

  “You remember how you once told me that you break the things you touch,” I say.

  “I do remember. I did tell you that.”

  “Well, I reckon that’s the only lie you’ve ever told me.”

  He leans close and runs the tip of his nose down the side of mine. “I thought it was true at the time,” he admits.

  “You were wrong.”

  Gran laughs and points her finger at us. “Get used to it, Ethan. After you marry her, you’ll never get to be right about anything ever again.”

  Ethan laughs. “Well, at least I’ll be able to say I did one thing right.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

  “Let’s plan a wedding,” I say.

  “Hey, Abby?” Mitchell says.

  “Yes?” I call back.

  “I wish you’d go ahead and marry my dad so you can be my mom for real,” he tells me. His voice is soft and filled with longing.