Following Rain

by Darrel Nelson

  The picture returned to the figure of the horse and then faded to black.

  CHAPTER 29

  The weekend weather forecast for Super Saturday was, in a word, terrible. Dark clouds rolled in from Puget Sound on Thursday, bringing with them a misty drizzle. A somber atmosphere enveloped the city, and the mood at Welcoming Hands became even darker when the city called to say that during the night an electrical short had occurred at the auditorium Rain had book as a backup in case of inclement weather. There was smoke and fire damage, and the facility was now unavailable.

  This bad news, coupled with the inclement weather, put the fundraiser in jeopardy. Many of the volunteers and participants had cleared their calendars for this specific date, so it was not a simple matter of rescheduling the event. A postponement would delay things by at least a month, if not more, and would preclude some people from participating at all. But despite Rain and Maria’s anxious phone calls to find another indoor facility, nothing was available on such short notice.

  If Maria was worried, Rain was distraught and had to be consoled. “Things will work out,” Maria told her, as they huddled in the entrance of Welcoming Hands on Thursday afternoon, watching the storm clouds amass.

  “But we need to find a place so we can get set up in time,” Rain replied gloomily.

  Maria put an arm around her. “We just have to remain optimistic.”

  Although she trusted her boss, Rain’s feelings sank even lower as her continued efforts to find another facility proved futile and the weather system socked in and appeared determined to linger.

  Precipitation in the summer months was not unusual, although the average rainfall for July and August combined was only 1.5 inches. It was the timing of everything that made it so bad. Months of preparation were about to become a washout. Literally.

  When Paul arrived to pick Rain and Charlie up from work, the rain began to fall in earnest. Paul raced out to the car and returned with an umbrella he always carried with him. Holding it protectively overhead, he accompanied Rain and Charlie out to the sidewalk. When they reached the curb, Charlie grabbed hold of a nearby streetlight and swung himself around, crooning, “‘I’m singing in the rain, just singing in the rain. What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again.’”

  Paul watched in amusement.

  “Come on, Gene Kelly,” Rain said. “You’re getting soaked. We don’t want to get the inside of Paul’s car wet.”

  Charlie brushed himself off and ducked into the backseat. “That was fun. I like singing and dancing in the rain.”

  “Me, too,” Paul said. “Especially the Rain part.” He nudged Rain with his elbow so she didn’t miss the play on words with her name.

  She forced a weak smile and sighed. “The fundraiser’s going to be ruined.”

  “Hopefully, the weather will let up. And even if it doesn’t, Seattleites can handle it.”

  Rain shook her head. “It’s worse than that. We can’t get Memorial Stadium now.”

  “Why not?”

  She explained the situation to Paul.

  “That’s not good news,” he replied.

  “But at least I can sing and dance in the rain some more,” Charlie said gleefully.

  “We don’t want this weather, Charlie,” Rain said. “It’s going to spoil things and we won’t be able to get you the sink with three holes.”

  “Oh,” Charlie said solemnly. He was silent for a minute and then picked up the umbrella that Paul had tossed into the backseat. “Too bad we don’t have a giant one of these. Then we could all stand under it.”

  Paul looked in the rearview mirror at Charlie. “I wonder.” He stepped on the gas and the car responded enthusiastically.

  Rain looked at Paul hopefully. “You have an idea?”

  “I’m going to drop you guys off and then go see someone,” Paul answered, doing a shoulder check and changing lanes.

  “Who?”

  “An acquaintance. But just don’t get your hopes up yet.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you have in mind?”

  “I will when I get back. Just hope it works out.”

  Rain exhaled slowly. “I’d be glad to . . . if I knew what to hope for. You’re being rather mysterious, you know?”

  Grimacing apologetically, he said, “Just keep your fingers crossed, okay?”

  Charlie thrust his arm forward, his fingers crossed. “Like this?”

  “Exactly, Charlie,” Paul replied, crossing his fingers, too.

  Rain studied the determined expression on Paul’s face, perplexed by his reticence. He had something in mind, although she wasn’t certain of the specifics. And whatever it was, he was anxious about it. A quick glance at the speedometer told her that they were already approaching triple digits.

  * * * * *

  Key Arena at Seattle Center was a 17,000-seat, multi-purpose facility, located just west of Memorial Stadium. Built in 1962 for the Seattle World’s Fair, the arena was a uniquely designed combination of steel, concrete, and glass, with a pyramidal hip roof that rose dramatically over the main entrance.

  Rain had called the arena in a desperate bid to book it when the auditorium fell through, but she was told that it was temporarily closed for maintenance work. The news was disappointing, although not unexpected. The facility had to be booked months in advance, but she was hoping for a miracle.

  The miracle occurred that evening when Paul showed up at her apartment with the news: Key Arena was available to host the Welcoming Hands Super Saturday Fundraiser, after all.

  “How did you do it?” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and almost bowling him over. “They told me it wasn’t available.”

  “You just have to know how to ask,” Paul replied teasingly. “Actually, I visited the manager and called in a favor. KNEX-TV did some heavy promotional work on the arena’s behalf, which I was quick to point out. After an intense bout of arm-twisting and veiled threats, the manager agreed to delay the maintenance work until after the weekend, clearing the way for Super Saturday.”

  Rain listened to his explanation in amazement. Then she gave Charlie some bonus time to play Angry Birds. When he was pleasantly engrossed, she sat Paul down beside her on the couch, wrapped her arms around him, and expressed her deep appreciation. Wordlessly.

  On Friday morning, Rain and Maria and a large group of volunteers arrived at Key Arena like an advance cavalry unit. Armed with decorations, supplies, tools, and enthusiasm, they tackled the monumental task of getting everything ready. They set up tables on the main concourse and on the lower level. They hung banners, taped up posters, and assembled game booths. Maria kept everything flowing with the skill of a drill sergeant—albeit a gentle one—and things came together in an orderly and efficient manner.

  Paul and Grunge arrived later in the morning.

  When Rain saw them, she raced up the stairs to the main concourse and hugged Paul. “I still can’t believe you were able to arrange this.”

  Grunge rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what this man is capable of.”

  Paul chuckled and motioned toward the expansive surroundings. “Welcome to your giant umbrella.”

  Maria came puffing up the stairs a moment later and extended her hand. “You are an angel of mercy, Paul. Have I told you that lately? I just don’t know how to thank you.” She shook his hand enthusiastically and then reached for Grunge’s hand, as well. “Thanks to both of you, and to a lot of other friends, the fundraiser is going to be a success. I just know it.”

  In that spirit of hope and anticipation the work continued.

  Paul and Rain assembled the plywood information booth they had painted together, and placed it on the main concourse, near the front doors. They then went down to the lower level and set up a portable stage for the karaoke contest.

  Using a small air compressor, Grunge and Charlie blew up dozens of balloons, which were then taped to the walls and tables as decorations by a group of volunteers. The decorating efforts came to a brief
halt, however, when the two men had a contest to see who could make the biggest balloon without popping it.

  At noon, everyone paused for lunch, which consisted of sandwiches and juice boxes donated by a local restaurant and delivered by special courier. Then the work resumed. The children’s games were organized, the displays arranged and decorated, the concession stands stocked, and tables set up near each one to create eating areas.

  By five o’clock everything was ready.

  As the weary but enthusiastic volunteers began to file out, Rain looped her arm through Paul’s and paused at the top of the stairs. Scanning the lower level, she said, “Everything looks wonderful.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Do you think the people will come?”

  Paul nodded affirmatively. “The station is announcing the change in venue on the evening news. And I’ve already contacted the local radio stations. We’ll put signs up at Memorial Stadium and the auditorium, directing people to this new location. One way or another, they’ll come.”

  Paul’s words proved to be prophetic.

  Undeterred by the weather, which had turned into a light but steady drizzle, people began arriving before 10:00 A.M. the following morning. Rain stood with Paul at the colorful information booth and greeted them warmly, handing out maps and schedules of the various activities and exhibits.

  Two tables had been placed nearby, with volunteers seated and ready to sell raffle tickets on the prizes that were compliments of Stan and Pricilla Blakely: a 2013 black BMW X3 four-door sedan, which sat prominently on a pedestal outside the front doors, and five MacBook Pro laptops, which were neatly lined up on a table just inside the front doors.

  Business at both tables was brisk, and Rain was thrilled that the fundraiser was off to a good start. People scattered throughout the arena, some wandering over to the silent auction tables on the main concourse and others going directly to the children’s games on the lower level. More people arrived, and soon every activity and exhibit was busy.

  Rain slipped away from the information booth at one point in order to check on how things were going and report to Maria. She found the director at the silent auction tables, studying the sheets of paper that listed the professional services being offered and smiling at the bids that had already been placed.

  “Didn’t I tell you things would work out?” Maria said, gathering Rain into her arms. “It’s only eleven o’clock and already things are popping.”

  Things continued to pop for the rest of the morning.

  At noon, the second shift of volunteers arrived, allowing Rain to take Paul and go to a nearby concession stand. She observed with satisfaction how orderly things were and how people sat in the eating areas, visiting and laughing while they consumed hotdogs, hamburgers, French fries, sodas, potato chips, and candy bars.

  The karaoke contest, hosted by Stan, began at one o’clock. Rain and Paul joined the crowd that gathered in front of the small stage. Things got off to a slow start until Stan coaxed Grunge and Charlie into singing some jingles that originated as TV commercials—ones Charlie was familiar with. The crowd responded enthusiastically, and Charlie was in his glory. Grunge got into the spirit of things, too, and the songfest took off.

  Part way through their fourth jingle, Charlie got mixed up on the lyrics. He mumbled along in rhythm and looked helplessly down at Rain, who stepped forward to coach him on the words. When some people nearby started to laugh, Charlie became flustered, which fueled the laughter even more. Finally he jumped down from the stage and hurried away.

  “Keep singing!” Rain called to Grunge, and took off in pursuit. Paul followed closely behind.

  They weaved their way through the crowd until they caught Charlie as he was heading for the exit.

  “Charlie,” Rain said, taking him gently by the arm. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  “They were laughing at me!” Charlie stammered, trying to pull free.

  Paul put a hand on his shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes. “They were laughing at Grunge, not you. Didn’t you hear him trying to hit those high notes? He was hilarious.”

  Charlie stared at the ground and shuffled his feet. “They . . . weren’t laughing at me?”

  “No,” Paul said. “Are you kidding? You were great.”

  Lifting his eyes slightly, Charlie said, “I was?”

  “You bet,” Rain said, rubbing his arm tenderly.

  Charlie considered her words and then said, “I don’t feel like singing anymore, though.”

  “That’s all right, Charlie,” Rain said. “We’ll save it for another time, okay?”

  Maria came by just then, carrying several boxes of candy bars. “Is everything all right?” she inquired.

  Charlie shrugged and stared back at the floor. “I don’t feel like singing.”

  Maria wrinkled her brow in confusion.

  “The karaoke contest,” Rain said, making a face to suggest things hadn’t gone well.

  Catching on, Maria said, “Charlie, will you help me carry these boxes to the concession stand? You can have your pick of a candy bar.”

  Perusing the boxes, Charlie asked, “Twix?

  Maria handed the boxes to him. “We’ll check and see. Come along now.”

  Watching them leave, Rain exhaled slowly and shook her head. Charlie was becoming increasingly self-conscious, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. In the past, laughter—even though it was directed at him—would have made him laugh all the more. Now he was becoming more aware of the social dynamics around him. And although it might be indicative of progress and development, emotional pain and angst were byproducts from which she wished to shield him.

  Paul wrapped an arm around her. “He’ll be all right.”

  Rain bit her lip and simply nodded.

  Squeezing her shoulder, Paul said, “Let’s see how things are going elsewhere.”

  He led her over to where Harold was set up. Kaz was there, too, handling the sales and taking orders. Harold whittled away happily, demonstrating his techniques to anyone who paused to watch. “The figures are proving to be popular, especially with the younger children,” Kaz reported. Harold chortled gleefully to himself and continued his work.

  Paul wanted to stop in and see how his mother was doing. They found Pricilla sitting with Sumi at the quilting booth, selling raffle tickets and pointing out features on the donated quilts. Earlier, Pricilla had been able to move around with her cane, but Rain noticed that she had now resorted to the use of her wheelchair.

  “How are you holding up, Mom?” Paul asked.

  “I’m doing well,” Pricilla answered, smiling. “Sumi and I are having a good time.” She looked up at Rain. “And how are you doing, dear? Are things going well?”

  “Very well.” Rain slid her arm through Paul’s. “Thanks to your son. He certainly saved the day. Again!”

  Pricilla smiled. “Yes, we rather like him.” She winked at her son. “That was quick thinking. But I must say that I’ll never know how you managed to book the arena on such short notice.”

  “Secrets of the trade,” Paul said, bending over and kissing her on the cheek.

  Rain laughed softly. “Pricilla, may I take you around so you can see some of the other events?”

  “No, I’m just happy to stay and keep Sumi company, dear. Besides, you and Paul have better things to do, I’m sure.”

  Rain and Paul left, hand in hand, to find Maria and check in with her once again. She was with Charlie and Grunge at the children’s games, cheering them on as they participated in a bubblegum blowing contest with a group of youngsters.

  She was enthused over how well the fundraiser was going and hugged Paul and Rain repeatedly. “It’s just a miracle!” she said. “A modern-day miracle.”

  It would have been even more of a miracle had Stan been able to book Pearl Jam for the fundraiser. But even his influence and connections had limits. The group was on tour at the moment and
so was unavailable. But he was able to book Spotted Albino, a Seattle indie band whose breakthrough hit, “In Your Face,” was currently riding the charts. The band possessed a wide repertoire of music, from hard rock to slow ballads, and once the tables and chairs on the lower floor were cleared away, the dance/concert was ready to begin.

  The winning raffle ticket numbers were purposefully withheld until after the dance, to encourage participants to stay. The insinuation was that the winners had to be there to collect their prizes, but no one was going to hold them to it. Still, many people remained in anticipation of the big announcements.

  Charlie and Grunge worked their way through the crowd and came up to Rain and Paul just as the first song was starting. Charlie took Rain by the hand and said, “Let’s dance!”

  Waving to Paul, she followed Charlie onto the floor. As they began to dance, they were bumped and jostled around, but Rain didn’t mind. She had desperately hoped people would come, and come they had. So she couldn’t very well complain about the packed conditions.

  Several songs later, Paul approached and tapped Charlie on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”

  Charlie looked disappointed until Maria arrived and requested a dance. He enthusiastically obliged, and they were soon lost in the crowd.

  The next song was a waltz, and Paul held Rain close. Her heart rate quickened as she felt his cheek against hers and his breath on her neck. They moved back and forth on the spot, mostly out of necessity but also because they were lost in one another.

  For Rain, the crowd disappeared and all she could focus on was the moment—the moment she knew that despite all her worries and fears about giving her heart away, she had fallen in love.

  CHAPTER 30

  At his father’s insistence, Paul booked the banquet room at Elliot’s Oyster House on Monday evening for a celebration dinner. He and Rain, along with his parents and Maria, sat at the head table. Charlie, Grunge, Harold, and the Hirotomas occupied the next table. A large contingent of staff members and community volunteers filled the rest of the room. It was the Blakelys’ way of wrapping up the event before Maria announced the happy news that Super Saturday had raised over $250,000.