As Paul looked around the room, he thought back to the day Susan Townsend had assigned him to visit Welcoming Hands. He remembered trying to dash through the interview with Maria, but how the director had other plans and sent him on a tour of the facility, with Rain as the guide.
His mind skipped ahead to the day of the station staff meeting when his co-worker had casually dismissed the homeless shelter’s plight with Who cares? It had bothered him then and it bothered him now. For, despite the success of the fundraiser, he knew that prejudicial attitudes and financial realities would always remain. Super Saturday was able to meet the facility’s needs this year. But what about the future? Breaking down barriers involved more than overseeing a single fundraiser. Besides, how many times could his parents offer a BMW X3 and five MacBook Pro laptops as raffle prizes? The Blakelys couldn’t be expected to sustain the shelter to that extent, especially when there were so many other charitable causes and social programs—like Pricilla’s pet project: the Children’s Wish Foundation—that stood with outstretched hands.
A feeling of uncertainty settled over him and threatened to overshadow his festive mood. But when he glanced at Maria, who was laughing and talking with Rain, he remembered something she’d said to him yesterday, during cleanup:
“With the wonderful assistance you and your parents have given this year, our needs have been met for the next two or three years, Paul. And I believe other angels of mercy will appear in time to help us in our need. This is the legacy of hope you have given me.”
He felt his spirits lift and he let his gaze wander to Rain. At that moment she turned and smiled at him, and a tingle of excitement coursed through him and drove away remaining wisps of doubt and worry. Like fog dissipating before the rising sun, his spirits lifted further, and he reminisced about the determined young secretary he had met during his first visit to the shelter. She had been so focused that he couldn’t get a read on her. She was unlike any other woman he had ever met and that intrigued him. It still did.
So far she had not divulged the true connection between herself and Charlie. She had revealed some details from her childhood, but she never talked about her parents or her brother. And because Paul knew her backstory, he was able to tread carefully and avoid asking inappropriate questions. He sometimes wondered if she noticed how he skirted around certain issues from her past, but if she did, she didn’t let on. He knew she would raise the subject and volunteer information when she was ready. Until then, he was willing to close the file folder of information he had collected and grant her the gift of time.
He was called back to the moment when his father stood and tapped the edge of his wine glass with a spoon, creating a high-pitched call to attention.
“With Maria’s permission,” Stan said, “I’d like to say a few words before the main course arrives.”
“You don’t know how to say just a few words,” Kaz called out, causing a chorus of laughter.
Stan chuckled. “I do this time. I’m going to invite Paul to speak on behalf of the Blakely family and our consortium of concerned citizens.”
Paul sat bolt upright in his chair. “Me?”
“You have been our representative on the fundraising committee, dear,” Pricilla said, patting him on the arm.
“Who better than you?” Rain whispered to him.
“Just about anybody,” Paul replied, squirming in his seat.
“Ladies and gentlemen: Paul Blakely,” Stan said, giving his son the floor.
Reluctantly Paul got to his feet and tugged on his shirt collar. Laughing nervously, he said, “I wasn’t expecting this, but since I have the opportunity, I will say what an honor it’s been to be associated with all of you this year. I have been impressed by your hard work and diligence.”
He looked out over the room and waited for the applause to subside.
“I’m reluctant to single anyone out, but there are a few names I’d like to mention. First of all, Maria Sanchez.”
The room erupted and several men whistled catcalls.
“Her leadership and faith have been incredible,” Paul continued. “Welcoming Hands is in good hands with her as the director.”
More applause.
“Next, a heartfelt thanks to my parents, Stan and Pricilla Blakely, and to Kaz and Sumi Hirotoma for backing Super Saturday and making it possible.”
He paused and pointed dramatically to each of them in turn. The room erupted once again, and the applause went on so long that he finally raised his hands to restore order. “As a consortium of concerned citizens, they have done a great service to our community, not only in the Noxby Medical Center matter that some of you heard about on the evening news—a little plug for KNEX-TV there, folks”—he paused for the ripple of laughter to subside—“but for the fantastic items that they donated for the raffles.”
More applause echoed through the room.
“Also, to you volunteers and everyone else who worked tirelessly to make Super Saturday a success, give yourselves a big hand.”
A thunderous ovation followed.
During the delay, Pricilla leaned over and tapped Paul on the arm. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?” she whispered.
Paul laughed and held up his hands again, appealing for order. “Mom just asked if there’s someone I forgot to mention. No, I haven’t forgotten. I’ve just been saving the best for last.”
Several in the crowd tittered.
“I want to say a few words about the woman seated on my left.” He gestured toward Rain, whose turn it was to shift uncomfortably in her seat. She looked at him pleadingly, but he ignored her silent petition.
“I clearly remember the first time I saw Rain McKenzie. She was sitting at her desk, working on the computer. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was having trouble finding sponsors for the fundraiser and was determinedly contacting every business she could think of. She was so focused that she hardly said anything to me. I just assumed she was a person of few words. But I learned differently when she took me on a tour of the shelter. She had plenty to say then.”
“That’s my girl,” Maria called out, clapping her hands.
It was a cue for everyone to follow suit. Rain’s cheeks reddened as the applause grew, and she looked both pleased and flushed at the same time.
“She taught me a great deal about the physical operations of the shelter,” Paul continued at length. “But more than that, she taught me to see the shelter’s heart: the people. The dedicated workers, the homeless children and their guardians, the kind woodcarver”—here he pointed to Harold—“and everyone else there who has coped with less than ideal conditions. I believe I was sent to the shelter for a reason. There were some things I needed to learn.”
A hush fell over the crowd and Paul looked directly at Rain. “Meeting you has changed my life, Rain. I just want you to know that.”
Tears began to glisten in her eyes and trail down her cheeks.
Paul grabbed his napkin and dabbed her tears. Then he leaned in and kissed her tenderly, as the room exploded in a burst of appreciation. And approval.
CHAPTER 31
The renovations began two weeks later. And until they actually got underway, Rain was worried that something would occur to interfere with the much-needed improvements, despite the overwhelming success of Super Saturday. The contractor still had to get all of his ducks in a row, and Welcoming Hands—with its chipped paint, faded floors, and noisy pipes—remained in waiting. Anticipation had hung over the facility like a woman approaching her due date. And not until the newborn infant’s cry—in this case, the drone of power tools and clump of heavy work boots on the stairs—was Rain able to completely relax.
The renovations occurred in stages so the shelter could continue its daily operations. And although the construction noise sometimes made telephone conversations difficult, it was, in Maria’s words, a joyful noise nonetheless. The sound of progress.
Dust coated the furniture and floors in a powdery residue, despite
the staff’s efforts to keep it under control, but there was little complaint. It was a small price to pay for the long overdue improvements. Even the guests were accommodating. When the renovations necessitated relocating their sleeping quarters to another part of the building, everyone willingly helped transfer the mats and bedding. Only three guests grumbled about the inconvenience and went to another shelter.
On the day the water was turned off so the old pipes could be replaced, Rain was in the kitchen with Charlie, watching the plumbers install the sink with three holes. She thought Charlie would be more excited than he was, considering how he’d reacted when Stan told him about it the day they’d gone sailing. But he seemed subdued and showed little emotion . . . until the plumbers began dismantling the old sprayer. Then his forehead wrinkled and he looked at Rain in concern.
“It’s okay, Charlie,” she said, pointing to a box that contained an industrial-sized sprayer. “Think what you can do with that!”
“A lot more work, I guess,” he said and bent down to examine the box.
Rain considered the tone in his voice and chewed on her lip, puzzled. He had never thought of washing dishes as work before. So why the sudden lack of exuberance? She decided it was like a child opening a lot of birthday presents in succession. The excitement tended to lessen with each one. Obviously, the rash of changes occurring at Welcoming Hands had over-stimulated his senses, diffusing his appreciation. He’d recapture his enthusiasm once the renovations were completed and the distractions were gone. Or so she hoped.
When Paul called later to let her know he was back in town from an assignment that had taken him to Utah, she mentioned Charlie’s surprising lack of enthusiasm about the new facilities.
“Would you be excited about washing dishes?” he asked.
“No, but he’s always enjoyed doing them in the past. Especially once we installed the original sprayer.”
Paul chuckled. “Ah, the sprayer! Well, times change, Rain. People change. Charlie’s becoming just like the rest of us. Work is . . . work.”
“I suppose so.”
“Anyway, let’s go out for dinner and a movie tonight. Grunge has a new Xbox game he’s dying to try out with Charlie, so he’ll hold down the fort for us. I’ve got some interesting things to tell you about my trip.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at six.”
Rain hung up the phone and sat back in her chair, exhaling in anticipation. She had missed Paul while he was away and looked forward to a night out with him. With Super Saturday and its attendant responsibilities completed, and the renovations well underway, it was refreshing to have as her main concern only one simple question: What should I wear tonight?
* * * * *
The Hunt Club, located near the Central Business District, was a posh restaurant that featured Northwest cuisine, specializing in American and seafood dishes. Each table was adorned with a flickering candle in a jar and a vase containing a single white rose, which accentuated the air of intimacy and romance.
As Rain sat at the table across from Paul and perused the interior, she realized that she felt perfectly comfortable. She had grown accustomed to his world of fine dining and entertainment. Scanning the menu and making a selection was an easy task now, and the exorbitant prices no longer bothered her. She still felt a wedge of guilt over the fact that she was eating well, while Charlie was at home with salty snacks provided by Grunge, but she always prepared Charlie’s favorite meal the next day to make amends: macaroni and cheese. It was poor fare in comparison, but he inhaled it with utter enjoyment, murmuring contentedly the whole while.
“So tell me about your Utah trip,” she said, taking a sip of wine and savoring the fruity bouquet.
Paul dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “It was interesting. I’m preparing a feature on drug legalization and needed some additional information. Did you know drug legalization is one of the most controversial issues in America today?”
“I know drugs are something we’re constantly on the lookout for at Welcoming Hands.”
“Colorado recently legalized cannabis, and other states are preparing to follow suit. The claim is that it will decrease the number of crimes and deaths associated with drugs. I wanted to get a take on the opposite viewpoint—that legalizing drugs will lead to an increase in crime and abuse, especially among young people. So I went to the most conservative state there is.”
Rain chuckled. “I bet you got an earful.”
“The battle lines are being drawn, I can tell you.” He practically rubbed his hands in delight. “It’s going to be a feature that will get attention.”
“And of course, being the quiet, unassuming man that you are, the attention will be hard for you to bear.”
Paul reached across the table and took her hand. “Very funny, Ms. McKenzie. I think Grunge is beginning to rub off on you. That’s something he would have said.”
The waiter, a young man with neatly combed hair, arrived just then and politely cleared his throat. He appeared a little nervous, as though he was new on the job, and his voice cracked when he asked, “Is everything okay so far?”
“It certainly is,” Paul replied, squeezing Rain’s hand.
Rain suppressed a sigh. Everything was to her satisfaction, as well.
“May I pour you some more wine?” the waiter inquired.
Paul nodded.
As the waiter reached for the bottle of wine, he accidently bumped Paul’s glass, spilling the contents into Paul’s lap.
The waiter and Paul’s gasps occurred simultaneously.
Paul sprang from his chair and looked at his pants, which now sported a large, red stain. The waiter stammered an apology and made matters worse by grabbing a napkin with the intention of dabbing at the stain.
When Rain saw Paul’s horrified reaction, she couldn’t help herself. She covered her mouth and tried to stifle a giggle. As she watched Paul retreat to safety, her hushed titter became muffled laughter.
Paul and the waiter both stopped and stared at her. Attempting to control herself, Rain erupted into laughter again.
Paul studied her momentarily and then began to laugh, too.
The waiter glanced from one to the other in obvious confusion and embarrassment.
“It’s okay,” Paul said, motioning him to back off.
The manager appeared from nowhere, his eyes wide and his mouth even wider, and began a second round of apologies. “Dinner on us” and “Send us the dry-cleaning bill” were two phrases he used repeatedly.
Paul agreed to both terms on the condition that the waiter not be fired. The manager eyed his flustered young employee and reluctantly agreed.
Paul’s gesture touched Rain. It would have been easy for him to fly off the handle and make a list of demands and threats. Instead, he went out of his way to save the young man’s job.
“I’ll just need to go home and clean up before we go to the movie,” Paul said, conducting Rain toward the front door.
The manager followed, squeezing in another round of apologies, which included, “Your next dinner will be on the house, naturally.”
As they drove back to Paul’s apartment, Rain shook her head in chagrin. “I’m so sorry for laughing, Paul. But when the waiter grabbed the napkin and came toward you, you should have seen the look on your face!”
“I’m glad you find it all so amusing,” he said, pretending to be offended. As Rain opened her mouth to respond, he chuckled good-naturedly and placed his hand in hers. “I’m also glad you were with me tonight, Rain. I don’t know how I would have handled it on my own. I mean, I’m soaking wet!”
“You’d have been fine. It’s like my dad used to say, ‘I’ve never been so wet that I couldn’t get dry.’”
Paul lifted an eyebrow and glanced at her. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you mention your dad.”
“Is it?” She glanced at her watch. “Hey, speaking of wet, you’re going to have to hurry and show
er and change if we’re going to make our movie.”
She was grateful that Paul let the subject drop.
When they arrived at his apartment, she sat on the couch and flipped through a magazine while Paul showered. She hadn’t been in his apartment before, and it was exciting to finally see it. Everything was neat and orderly. There might as well have been a plaque on the wall that said: A place for everything and everything in its place. The books on the shelves were neatly lined up and the kitchen was spotless. The apartment stood in sharp contrast to hers, especially when Charlie got in the mood to rummage.
The telephone rang moments later and she glanced toward the bathroom. The shower was still running, so obviously Paul hadn’t heard the phone. She got up to check the call display in case it was Grunge. Although unlikely, he might be calling with some concern or question about Charlie. Or possibly to complain that Charlie had beaten him in a video game tournament again.
The number on the call display was not her home phone and she sighed in relief. It was easy to imagine the worst when she was not there with Charlie.
As she turned away from the phone, she noticed a file folder sitting under a legal notepad on the desk. A piece of paper protruded from the file, revealing a triangular wedge of printed text. She read the words:
following a car accident last night. The
have not been released pending
but an inside source says
pronounced dead at the
Sparked by curiosity, she slid the paper out a little further from the folder and saw the name: McKenzie.
She glanced at the bathroom door again. The shower had stopped, but she had come too far to quit now. She snatched up the sheet of paper and read:
Accident Claims Two
Two are dead following a car accident last night. The names of the deceased have not been released pending notification of the next of kin, but an inside source says that a woman and a boy were pronounced dead at the scene of the accident. Reports indicate they had the same surname: McKenzie.
Following Rain Page 18