Along Came the Rain

by Alison R Solomon

  “We know it wasn’t Barker. Inside the car, they found a confession written by Parminder.”

  “They—what? Parminder confessed…” It makes no sense. My mind is whirling.

  “Yes. It’s the same lettering that was used in the letter that was sent to Kallie and Michaela’s birth parents. She must have had it ready all along. Our best guess is that Barker must have figured out it was Parminder who set up the kidnapping, and she wanted to get her to return to the USA.”

  “So where are they now?”

  “We checked with the local authorities and they said that the afternoon Parminder left the Peace Project it started raining torrentially and it didn’t stop for almost three days. They think if Parminder and Wynn went into the growth where the car was parked, there’s not much hope they could have made it out.”

  I feel as if he’s stabbing me with sharp knives with every sentence. I can barely bring myself to voice my next question. “Have they searched for…for…” I can’t say the word. It is too final.

  “Bodies? They said hopefully they can start tomorrow, when the flooding has subsided a little more.”

  I feel my chest heave and my throat catch. Suddenly sobs are wracking my body. The detective gets up and puts his hand awkwardly on my shoulder.

  “If it’s any consolation, I think Barker may have been a hero. She must have realized Parminder set up the whole thing and she was trying to make it right by going there in person. She didn’t want you to know, until she’d sorted it out. You know Barker. She’s a problem solver.”

  He uses the present tense, but I know I will never see her again. I also know he’s wrong about Parminder. It wasn’t her. I have a sick feeling in my stomach, because I think Barker decided to pin it all on Parminder. I’m about to tell Detective Gordon that, and then I think, what’s the point? Everyone knows Barker was a wonderful, hard-working social worker and a loving partner. Why should I discredit her name if I don’t need to?

  ****

  Two days later, Detective Gordon comes to the house again, this time with a young female cop. I think it’s the same one who arrested me, but I’m in such a fog, I can’t keep anything straight at the moment.

  I know why they’ve come and I don’t want to hear what they have to say.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I offer, stalling the inevitable. Mom always said a cup of tea solves every problem, but this is one time I don’t think she’s right.

  They shake their heads. The young female takes my arm and guides me to the sofa. She sits me down and goes to the kitchen.

  “Their bodies have been found,” Detective Gordon says, as the young cop approaches me with a glass of water. “I’m sorry, Wynn.” He pauses, but this time I’m dry eyed. “We don’t think it was an accident—Barker was hit in the head.” I stare at him and he continues. “We think maybe Barker got Parminder to agree to go for a walk, but almost immediately, Parminder must have found something to hit Barker with. The area was filled with banana trees. I don’t know if you know how bananas grow, but dozens of bunches are on one low-hanging stalk. We think that’s what Parminder used to kill Barker.” He has used the word I dreaded hearing. Barker was killed. But was she really killed by Parminder, or by her own foolishness? “She was probably taken by surprise and fell. Parminder must have got scared and gone back to the car to drive it away but then realized she didn’t have the keys, which must have fallen out of Barker’s pocket, because they haven’t been found. Once she realized she couldn’t drive, Parminder must have taken her backpack and decided to walk instead. Probably she wanted to avoid the road so no one could see her. They found her body deep in the undergrowth. She must have tripped and fallen, and been unable to get up.”

  I don’t really want to hear the details. Not of Parminder’s death and not of Barker’s. None of it makes any sense and I just let the words roll over me, trying not to think of what Barker’s last moments must have been like, trying not to imagine Parminder’s fear when Barker showed up. Maybe it really did happen the way Detective Gordon says it did. Maybe Barker told Parminder she was going to force her to confess and that’s why Parminder attacked Barker. That’s the only part I really want to clarify.

  “What makes you think Parminder attacked Barker? Couldn’t it have been the other way around?” I ask.

  Detective Gordon looks surprised by my question. “We don’t think so. Parminder must have done it almost as soon as they started walking. Barker’s body was barely ten yards from the car.”

  EPILOGUE

  Kallie, a year later

  The judge is wearing a red robe. On the credenza is a picture of him with a middle-aged woman and two teenage boys. I guess they’re his family. He sees me looking at the picture.

  “It’s good to be part of a family,” he says. “You’re going to find out just how good it is.” He smiles at me, and I grin back. I’ve been trying not to look too soft, but today I just can’t seem to stop smiling. “Before we start, do you have any questions?” He looks at me and Mikki. She shakes her head. She looks serious, but I know underneath she’s as happy as I am.

  “How come you’re wearing red? I thought judges always wore black.”

  “That’s when we’re in our courtroom. When I’m in my office, and especially when I’m presiding over a happy event, I like to wear my ceremonial robes.”

  “Why aren’t we in court?” I ask, hoping I’m not being a smart-aleck. “I thought this was an official hearing.”

  “I think it’s nicer for the families when I host you in my chambers. But don’t worry, it’s just as official when we do the paperwork here.”

  As long as it’s official, that’s all I care about.

  I never thought this day would happen, and now that it’s here, I can still hardly believe it. I don’t know what happened to make Mom change her mind and agree to terminate her rights. She only has one more year in jail; she could’ve come out and started the whole family reunification thing again. That’s what she’s done a bunch of times. I thought it would just keep happening until I was eighteen, but something clicked for her this time. I don’t know what it was.

  “I know it’s what’s best for you,” she told me on our last visit. “And I’ve always wanted that. I thought that by holding on to you, I was doing the right thing. Now I see that all I was doing was standing in your way. Worse than that, I was setting you up to go down the same road I’ve traveled, and I’d do anything to prevent that.” Mom’s always contrite and sensible when she’s off drugs. If only she could stay off them. “Don’t think for a moment that I’m not sad to let you go, though.” I can see in her eyes just how sad she is, but I can’t let it sway me.

  “I know,” I told her. “Me too. My adoption worker says I could still see you if I want to, once you get out. She just thinks it’s better if I take a break for now, while you’re inside…”

  We hugged and kissed, and she gave me an envelope that she said I could open on adoption day.

  Now here it is, adoption day. It’s hard to believe that only a year ago Mikki and I were rescued from the condo. At first, it was so confusing; we couldn’t figure out what had happened to us and who had organized the whole thing. Then a few days after we were back with Mrs. Clark, the cops told us Parminder was the one who set us up, though they didn’t say why. A few days after that, we got to meet Barker’s girlfriend, Wynn, who came to visit us and explained that she’d only taken us to the condo because Parminder asked her to, and that she thought we were going for a free vacation. She said she wanted to be our friend because she knew how much Barker had cared about us.

  We started to settle back into our routine but the surprises kept coming. Mrs. Clark announced that we would be meeting her daughters. We didn’t even know she had any! She said she was rebuilding her relationship with them and then a few weeks later she told us about the new adoption plans. She said that although she’d considered adopting us, she had to put her own family first. She assured us she’d always b
e our friend and that we’d stay with her until our new mom was certified. I talked to my counselor about it—they made us go to counseling because they said that at the condo we’d been assaulted, and that we’d feel better if we talked about it. I told the counselor John was nice to us, but she said we were victims because he was so much older than us, although no one knows how old, since they never figured out who he was. The counselor kept using the word “trauma,” but I guess she didn’t really get that when you’ve been in foster care for years, there’s not a lot that can make you feel traumatized, and after all, we did get to stay, by ourselves, in a beautiful condo for a week, even if it was a bit boring and we ran out of food. Then she used the word, “denial,” but at that point I asked if I could drop out of counseling and Cindy, our new social worker, said I could. I think Mikki still goes though.

  So now we’re here, in the judge’s chambers. Evie and Dot are standing at the back of the room, along with Mrs. Clark and her daughters. I wish Barker was here. I miss her. It’s hard to believe we’ll never see her again. Hundreds of people showed up for her memorial service—foster kids, foster parents, social workers, cops, all of Wynn and Barker’s friends. It was beautiful and we all cried a ton. They never said exactly how she died. Wynn told us it was a terrible accident, and the social work chief said she died “in the line of duty.” It’s nice that we have her picture on the mantelpiece and reminders of her all over the house. We’ve been living with Wynn for eight months now, and she’s really cool. There was really only one thing I had to know, before agreeing to move in with her.

  “Can we still play tennis?” She said yes, and that sealed the deal. When I’m powering a two-handed backhand across court, or serving an ace down the line, I feel as if it’s what I was born to do. I know I got a late start to it, but my goal is to be a tennis champion one day. I asked if we could rename Latifah and call her Serena instead, but Wynn just laughed and said that dogs don’t live forever and I could be in charge of naming the next one.

  We don’t live in the house she and Barker had. She said it held too many memories but I think she sold it so she could afford to adopt us and still keep doing her jewelry. I’ve helped her set up an online business and she said she makes much more money than she ever did before. I don’t think we were supposed to know about the financial stuff but one day I overheard Wynn telling Evie on the phone that she gets adoption assistance because we’re considered ‘special needs.’ I bolted in there and started yelling, “What do you mean we’re special needs? I’m not some kid who’s disabled or has a mental disorder!”

  “No, you’re not. But you are something special, especially to me,” she said, giving me a hug. “Any child who’s over the age of eight when they’re adopted is considered special needs. It’s a good thing, because it means the state gives me money to look after you, which will pay for tennis and swimming and all those cargo shorts you buy!”

  When we first moved in, Wynn told us that sometimes she’s a bit forgetful and absent-minded. She said if we want to be sure she’s listening to us, we have to ask her to stop what she’s doing and say directly, “Wynn, I need you to hear this.” It feels weird to do that, but it seems to work, because she’s remembered everything I need her to, like when we have to take cupcakes to school, or bring special equipment for a particular class. Mikki asked her if we should call her Mom, and she said, “Call me anything you want, just don’t call me late for dinner,” and then chuckled like it was some private joke.

  Wynn’s generally a pretty happy person. Occasionally I catch her staring into space and I figure she must be thinking about Barker. When she sees me watching her, she shakes her head as if pulling herself away from something she doesn’t want to think about and stretches her arms above her, as if she’s just said a little prayer to the universe.

  I also like that I can talk about myself with her. I’m getting more used to the idea of being gay, but it helps to know that she was straight for a while and can relate to that side of things too. I like talking with her friends as well.

  After Wynn signs the papers, the judge says that because we’re sixteen, he’d like us to sign them too.

  “I need to know that you are doing this of your own free will and that it is what you want.” We assure him it is, and I sign as quickly as possible, so no one can change their minds. Wynn asked us earlier whether we wanted to go out for dinner to celebrate, or whether we wanted her to make our favorite foods. I don’t like going to fancy restaurants because then I have to dress up and I’d much rather wear cargo shorts whenever I can, so I opted for staying at home. Mikki made a face because she’s really into dresses and girly things, so we compromised: tonight Wynn is cooking for everyone at home and tomorrow Evie and Dot are taking Mikki to a real fancy restaurant where she can glam up as much as she wants.

  While Wynn cooks up our dinner, I remember the envelope my mom gave me. I open it, and inside is a card with a big red heart.

  Dear Kallie, I read, I will never stop loving you. You will be forever in my heart. I’m glad you’re with someone who will take good care of you and give you the home you deserve. Love Mom

  I feel a tear in the corner of my eye and brush it away. She’s right. Just occasionally, good things do happen to people like me.

  About the Author

  Alison grew up in England and lived in Israel and Mexico before settling in the USA. Despite being the proud holder of three passports, she is not on any national or international Wanted list.

  Alison’s short stories have been published in the USA and Mexico. As a former clinical social worker, she has presented at conferences worldwide and been published in academic textbooks, anthologies, professional journals, and newspapers on feminism, diversity and mental health.

  When she’s not writing, Alison can be found chasing dolphins, messing up her knees because she insists on playing tennis, or planning a road trip with her wife Carol, and their two rescue dogs.

  You can contact Alison at:

  Website: www.AlisonRSolomon.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/AlisonRSolomon