Rain

by V. C. Andrews

  "No," he said. Then he looked down and shook his head the way he always did when he knew he was wrong or had to face some fact reluctantly. "Yeah, maybe," he said.

  "Just call me often and write to me," I said.

  "You know I don't write much. What are you going to do after school is out?" he asked. "You going to go to England and be in that acting school?"

  "I might," I said.

  "You're becoming a fancy little lady, huh?"

  "No, not fancy. I don't know what I'm becoming, Roy, but if I don't explore a little, I'll always be wondering if I should have. I wouldn't be any good to you like that, Roy."

  "I have to get going," he said after a moment. "You know I love you, Roy," I said.

  "Yeah, but not the way I love you," he said. "No, not now, but maybe someday."

  He looked up with some hope in his eyes.

  "Only, don't wait for it to happen, Roy. If someone else comes along, don't drive her off," I warned him. "Yeah, the girls are just flocking to me."

  He stared at me and then he smiled and we hugged. He never held me as tight. I thought he wasn't going to let go. Finally, he did.

  "You be good," he said. "No," he added, "you be better than them. You're really Latisha Carrot's girl, hear? You always remember that, Rain. No matter what they tell you, that's who you are."

  I nodded.

  He reached out and touched my face and then started away. I didn't want to see him leave. I waited in the yard for a while, having my private little cry. Then I went into the house, said my farewells to Aunt Sylvia and her good friends before leaving myself.

  I told the limo driver to take me to the cemetery again. I wanted to say my private good-bye to Mama. I stood by her grave and closed my eyes and heard her voice.

  "Good-bye Mama," I whispered. "Thank you for loving me more than you loved yourself even though you didn't give birth to me. There will always be a place for you in my heart. No one will ever take that place."

  I said a little prayer, touched the fresh earth after my tears fell to it, and then I rose, took a deep breath, turned and walked away to the waiting limousine and the future that dangled its promises before me.

  Epilogue

  .

  Jake was waiting for me at the airport gate. He

  took my bag and gave me a hug.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "How you doing?" "I'm all right, Jake. How's Mrs. Hudson?" "Feisty as ever, even more so since you left," he

  said laughing. When I arrived, Grandmother Hudson was waiting for me in the living room. I paused in the doorway.

  "Thank you for sending the flowers," I told her. "They were beautiful?'

  She nodded, looking embarrassed as usual by any show of emotion.

  "You should soak in a warm bath, relax and then come down for dinner. I have spoken with Mrs. Whitney and she wants you to know that you can postpone your exams for a week, if you like."

  "I'd rather not," I said.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. I'd rather keep busy," I said.

  "That's very wise," she told me.

  I picked up my bag and started to turn away.

  "I've asked Sissy to make stuffed pork chops. Your favorite, I believe?'

  "Thank you," I said. She looked away quickly and then went back to her needlework.

  I took her advice and soaked in a warm bath. While I was lying in the warm water, I suddenly began to cry. I couldn't stop myself. The tears poured out so fast, I thought I might fill the tub to the brim and let it spill over. Then, just as suddenly as they had come, they stopped. I scrubbed my face, dried myself and got dressed for dinner,

  After I ran a brush through my hair quickly, I rose and stood by the window, gazing out at the sky. A knock on my door pulled me from my reverie. It was Grandmother Hudson, dressed for dinner and looking as elegant as ever.

  "I was hoping you were ready to go down," she said.

  Go down together? I thought. I had always been there before or right after her, but we had never gone together.

  "I'm not all that hungry," I said.

  "When you smell Sissy's cooking, your stomach will change your mind," she insisted.

  She might be right, I thought.

  We started down the stairs.

  "Your mother called to see how you were, but you hadn't arrived yet. I'm to give you her sympathies and best wishes because she was on her way to a political ball. Your friend Audrey called to see how you were, too. There were a few other calls from students. I left the list in my office. I'll give it to you after dinner. I've done nothing but man the phones on your behalf," she added.

  "Thank you," I said hiding a small smile.

  "I don't know why I told her to make those pork chops. They really don't agree with me," she continued as we rounded the stairway and headed toward the dining room.

  "Maybe Sissy can make you something else," I suggested.

  "Of course not. What do you think this is, a restaurant? I swear, all you young people today are so spoiled?'

  She took her seat at the table and I took mine. Sissy served the meal and it was as delicious as ever. Grandmother Hudson was right. I hadn't realized how hungry I was. Nevertheless, I felt guilty eating, guilty enjoying. How long does the sadness last? I wondered.

  Grandmother Hudson saw how melancholy I was. I had made little conversation. Toward the end of the meal, she put her silverware aside, and her elbows on the table as she clasped her hands and turned to me.

  "I never met the woman you called Mama, of course, but from what I have learned and from what I have seen, she made remarkable sacrifices for you. She would want you to take advantage of every opportunity you were offered. That's all I will say on the subject," she declared, then took the napkin off her lap, placed it on the table, rose and left the room.

  I sat for a few moments listening to my own heartbeat. Then I started to help Sissy clear the table.

  "Oh you don't have to do that, honey," she said.

  "I want to, Sissy," I insisted.

  After the table was cleared, I went outside and sat on a bench. It was a night of blazing stars, but no moon. I heard an owl way off in the darkness of the woods. It sounded so mournful.

  Was Mama with Beni somewhere now? Were the two of them looking down at me and waiting?

  I looked up at the mansion with its magnificent stone columns. Could this ever be home to me?

  Where is home? Home has to be someplace in your heart, too. Could I ever be a part of this world, really a part of it? Or should I have told Roy to come and get me as soon as he could? At least with him, I would never be afraid.

  Or would I be afraid of the worst thing of all.., never knowing who I really was.

  I want my name, Mama, I whispered. I want my Mama.

  As if I was still on stage, I imagined the audience's applause. It was loud and overwhelming and somehow, if I pretended this was just a terribly emotional scene I was acting in, maybe I could pretend my pain wasn't real.

  Actors are always being someone they are not, and that was what I have been, I thought. They move through personalities and characters like someone without a face, searching for the right identity, waiting for that applause and wondering if the applause was for them or for someone they imagined themselves to be.

  Who am I?

  The answer was out there waiting to be discovered. I would do what Grandmother Hudson said I should do: I would take advantage of every opportunity and open every door until one day, I looked at the truth.

  Then, I could come home.

 

 

 
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