Running Out of Rain

by Lori Leger

  “Here you go.” Cat handed her son over to Cynthia. “This one ate recently so he should be good for a while.”

  “Hello there, Caleb. You are growing so fast, aren’t you, young man?” Cynthia settled onto the couch, cuddling the baby to her chest. Cat sat beside her, holding Cassandra. Cynthia gasped at the beautiful baby girl. “Look at these two. I’m a pediatrician and it always amazes me to see how quickly these little human beings grow. Your breast milk must be agreeing with them.”

  Cat nodded. “It must be. They aren’t showing signs of colic or anything, thank goodness.”

  Zach sat across from them on the stuffed ottoman. “They actually slept six hours straight last night. Man, we thought we’d died and gone to heaven.”

  “It’s fabulous when that starts happening, isn’t it? All it takes is a few uninterrupted hours of sleep to remind you all is right with the world again.” Cynthia ran her fingers through Caleb’s soft, dark hair. “It’s funny how those memories stick with you.”

  She heard a sound at the door and looked up to where John Michael stood watching them, his handsome face covered in a satisfied smile. Her heart skittered in her chest. She found it a little strange that the sight of him dressed in faded jeans, a clean, white T-shirt, and bare feet, turned her on almost as much as him wearing a dark blue towel, and nothing else. Her insides turned instantly to mush. “Hey there, Paw Paw Johnny. You have visitors.”

  “So I see. It’s about time these two make it over to my place. Mom and Dad must have needed a change of scenery.”

  Cat groaned at his comment. “You have no idea. Sometimes Zach walks in the door and I run out with a grocery list I’ve been adding to all day long, just so I can get out for a bit. I stay home with them unless I have help. Twin infants require hauling around entirely too much baby paraphernalia.”

  John leaned over to take Cassandra from Cat. “Hey, pretty girl, come to Paw Paw Johnny.” When Cat vacated the spot beside Cynthia, he placed a kiss on his daughter-in-law’s cheek. “Sit, Cathryn.”

  She ignored his command and sat on Zachary’s lap. “You sit there next to Doc Ellender. I’ve found a much better spot.” She looped her arm around her husband’s neck and sent Cynthia a secretive smile. “I hope we didn’t interrupt anything important. We can cut this visit short if the two of you have plans.”

  “No. I popped in for a short visit myself.” Cynthia nudged John gently with her shoulder. “I owed him an apology. And I also wanted to let him know I need a date for a road trip this weekend, if he’s interested.” She turned to John Michael and made a face. “Something came up with Jeremy’s work schedule, apparently, so Jeremy’s surprise party has been moved up a week to this Friday, July 25th. I understand if you can’t make it on such short notice.” She leaned in closer. “But I’d love to have you come with me.”

  He stared down at her. “Are you still planning on driving to Little Rock?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I’m going with you. I don’t want you making the drive alone.”

  “If you’d rather not go—”

  “And I want to go with you to meet your kids.”

  She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, lingering there long enough to whisper a quick “Thank you.” He surprised her by shifting his head to kiss her on the lips.

  “Anytime, Cyn.”

  Cat clapped her hands together. “Oh my God! You two are the sweetest couple.”

  “Cat, don’t embarrass them.”

  Zach’s grumbled comment had Cynthia laughing. “We’re not embarrassed.”

  “Okay, then. Don’t embarrass me,” Zach said. “I’m not used to seeing my dad make out with a chick. And besides …” He turned to his wife. “I thought we were the sweetest couple.”

  Cat lowered her chin but looked up at her husband with huge brown eyes. “We are, but I’m thinking that particular chick is here to stay, so you’d better get accustomed to them being all touchy-feely, kissy-kissy—and quickly, Zach-Attack.”

  Zach cleared his throat and chanced a quick look at his father, probably for a little support from the only other mature male in the room.

  John Michael shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m hoping she’s right.”

  John Michael sent one last wave to the little family of four before closing the door and turning to Cynthia. He wrapped his large hands around her hips and pulled her close. “So, what time are we leaving on Friday?”

  She tucked her chin into the crook of his neck. “I’d like to leave around eight a.m. It’ll give us a little time to rest up before the party.” She curled her hands around the back of his neck and lifted her face. “I want to apologize again for acting the way I did that Sunday after Charlie’s visit.”

  John leaned in to kiss her, released a low growl as her hands slipped beneath his shirt, her cool fingertips teasing and tantalizing against the rapid heating of his skin. He pivoted, shoved her gently against the wall for another kiss. Cynthia responded with a tortured groan; her sweet lips, her warm pliant mouth molding to his, returning everything he offered. He pressed against her, his arousal thick, hard, and too damned obvious to ignore. He sucked in his breath, joining in with her perfectly harmonized moan—their shared ache unifying them in their need.

  Face flushed, she tried to catch her breath. “I think I may be ready, John Michael.”

  He kissed her again, ended it by nibbling on her lower lip, eliciting another needy groan from her. He pulled back, smoothed her hair, her blouse, and stepped away after a short period of painful contemplation. “May be ready isn’t exact, Cyn. When you know for sure, I’ll be here.” He kissed her neck, satisfaction rolling through him at her involuntary shiver.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her gently toward the door. “Now, get the hell out of here before I change my mind. If I’m going on a long weekend with you, I’ve got some business to tend to. I’ve got a distinct feeling if you’re around, the only business I’ll be taking care of is you.”

  She grabbed her purse from the wall hook and turned, wearing a smug grin. “Sounds good to me.” She reached up and kissed him, her mouth lingering on his long enough to let him know she was on the brink of wanting so much more. She pulled back, peeking up at him through her long lashes. “I have a feeling it’s going to be an interesting weekend.”

  He clenched his jaw against the all-too-familiar tightening in his groin. “Mm … I can hardly wait.”

  “We should be reaching the Arkansas state line in about two minutes, Cyn. I’ve travelled plenty east and west of Louisiana, but it’s been a while since I’ve had the need to cross the state line to the north of us.” John Michael reached out to grab hold of Cynthia’s hand. She clutched it and gave him a tight smile before tearing her gaze from his to stare out the window.

  His gut clenched at the tightness in her face he’d grown accustomed to seeing. It popped up periodically—that self-doubt ingrained into her psyche, courtesy of a cheating SOB husband. Again, he wished for just one chance to give that thoughtless bastard a well-placed right hook to the face on her behalf.

  “Cynthia.” The single word accompanied an attention grabbing squeeze of her hand. He waited for her to turn to him, her eyebrows lifted in question. “You can talk to me, you know.” Her lips pursed and he shook his head to stop the imminent denial she was working herself up to. “Don’t bother. There’s something eating at you, and I want to know what it is.”

  Her lips curled in tightly and she pulled her hand back and crossed her arms across her belly. “I’m just nervous. I know, I mean, I suspect that we’ll finally …” She looked up, wide-eyed. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

  He looked away from the road long enough to grab hold of her left hand. He pulled it to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on her fingers. “Why would you think that, Cyn? I thought we’d gotten past the fact that neither of us are kids anymore.”

  He scowled and clutched at her hand when she tried to pull
away. “You know. I’d give anything to kick ole Gene’s ass for doing this to you.”

  “John—”

  “No! You’re a beautiful woman. Do you hear me? And I’d think by the perpetual hard I seem to have when you’re anywhere in the vicinity, you’d realize how desirable you are.”

  She lowered her gaze to her lap. “Maybe that’s because you’ve been without it too long to be choosy.”

  “Good grief, lady. If I was as bad off as you seem to think, I could have had sex with Robin White on the feed store counter or anywhere else for that matter.” Her mouth twisted in a classic just-sucked-on-a-lemon look, and he couldn’t hold back his burst of laughter. “I am biased when it comes to you. It doesn’t mean I’m blind. Don’t let Gene’s selfishness and stupidity keep you from believing in yourself. You are beautiful.”

  Despite her rapid blinking, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. John Michael grunted and took the exit to the state line’s rest area. He pulled the car into the nearest parking spot under a tree, far away from any other vehicles, and threw it into park. He turned in his seat, giving her his undivided attention. “I’m right here, Cyn. Talk to me. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed, bracing herself to think about the unthinkable. Maybe it was time she talked about it again. Her therapist knew. Of course everyone in Tonka City knew part of the story. But no one, not even her mom, knew the full extent of her humiliation the morning of Gene’s burial. The behind-closed-door-discussion between herself and tiny little Tamara, with her perfect size 2 body that made Cynthia feel like a blowfish in comparison.

  John Michael sat there, arms crossed, determination oozing out of every pore. This car wouldn’t move another inch until she’d told him every grisly detail of that shameful encounter. She took a deep breath and began speaking in a low monotone as every moment of that morning replayed itself in her head, running through scene after scene as though she were reading from a script.

  November 15th

  Cynthia stood staring at Gene’s coffin at the front of the room, her husband’s handsome profile in clear view. How could she do it? In a few short hours she had to say goodbye to him, or his physical form, anyway. How could she wake up every morning for the rest of her life, take a breath, drink her first cup of coffee, brush her teeth before heading off to work—do all of those things comfortable married people do together—without him?

  “Mom? Are you listening?”

  She blinked, made an effort to zone back in on her daughter’s criticism of yet something else pertaining to her father’s burial. “I’m listening.” I’m just trying my best to ignore your complete lack of compassion. Oh, Gene … how did we raise such a child?

  “Daddy wouldn’t have wanted to be in his formal uniform! He would have wanted to be in his jeans with a Tonka City Fire Department T-shirt so he could be comfortable.”

  “Your father loved dressing in his formal suit every now and then, Trini.” She omitted how he’d told her on countless occasions that if anything happened to him he wanted to be buried in it. “He called it playing dress-up, said it made whatever the occasion was more special. I’d say this qualifies for special, don’t you?”

  “He only said that for you. I know for a fact, he hated it.”

  Cynthia intercepted the look from her son-in-law, who approached his wife and took her gently by the arm. “Cut your mom some slack, would you, Trin? The Chief looks great in his dress uniform and you have more important things to worry about. Like finding some grub for this little one.”

  Trini turned to her husband and infant daughter. “Oh, is she getting fussy?” She took her baby girl in her arms and cuddled her. “Mommy is so sorry, sweet girl. Let’s go get you fed.”

  Her son-in-law offered an eye-roll, along with an apology for his wife’s childish behavior. “Sorry, Mom. I think she’s still in shock.”

  She gave him a one armed hug. “Thanks, Mick, but you don’t have to make excuses for her. I lived with her long enough to know it’s not a temporary condition.”

  “Yes, ma’am. My wife does possess a flair for the dramatic.”

  Cynthia’s youngest son, twenty-four year old Tyler, approached in time to hear Mick’s statement. He nudged his mother while resting his hand on Mick’s shoulder. “Come on now. Have you two lost sight of the fact that this day’s all about Trini?”

  Mick shook his head. “I don’t think she’s quite grasped the concept that no one here’s lost as much as your mom has.” He turned toward the sound of his wife calling his name. “And there it is.”

  Cynthia patted his shoulder and sent him on his way. She approached the couch at the front of the funeral home’s viewing area, sat gingerly in the spot she’d occupied for the previous two days. She rotated first one aching foot, then the other, longing for her comfortable work shoes instead of the heels she’d worn for three straight days. Within seconds, Tyler joined her on one side while twenty-eight year old Jeremy occupied the spot to her right.

  “How you doing, Mom?” Tyler leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

  She blinked several times, finally gave him a nod. “I’m okay Ty. How are the both of you holding up?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet.”

  “For any of us,” she agreed. “But we’re family. We’ll get through this.” She clutched tightly to each of her son’s hands. “I love you both very, very much.”

  Jeremy leaned over to kiss his mom’s cheek. “Love you, Mom.”

  Tyler followed with a “Love you too, Mom.”

  She gave them each a weak smile, swallowed the sob clogging her throat at the loss they were surely feeling right now. God knows how empty she felt at not having her husband by her side. A low hum at the rear of the room got her attention. “What’s going on back there?”

  Jeremy turned in his seat. “I have no idea.”

  A large group of the “Chief’s” co-workers entered the room, a low murmur rumbling from man to man. A low hiss, feminine and angry, made its way to her, peaking her curiosity. Two by two, the men parted, as someone pushed her way through them. A tiny woman, thirty or so, with short, spikey, blonde hair finally broke through to stand exposed near the front of the room.

  Cynthia rose from the couch, her exhausted mind struggling to place her. “Can I help you?” Within seconds, her sons had flanked her.

  She nearly took a step back as the woman’s face contorted in a mixture of anger, disdain, and hurt. Her tiny frame practically vibrated with tension. She jerked her head around to face her, bringing attention to huge brown eyes, red-rimmed and puffy from crying.

  Was this some love child of Gene’s, one he’d neglected to tell her about? She nearly passed on the idea, thinking her husband wasn’t the type to shirk his responsibilities. But then, maybe he never knew about her?

  Her mind went to work immediately, creating scenarios as to how this could happen. One fact had her dismissing the notion. This young woman looked nothing like Gene, whose features were so dominant in all three of her children.

  Cynthia focused on Jack, her husband’s best friend of nearly fifty years. His gaze met hers, but only for a second before it hit the floor. She let her sight wander over the group of men. One by one, they looked away, their faces turning down, or up, or off to one side or the other, to land anywhere but on her.

  That’s when the ugly truth hit her where it hurt the most … dead center of her broken heart.

  She re-focused on Jack’s look of horror and gave her head a slow shake. “So that’s how it was.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off by pointing to the exit. “I want everyone out.”

  Jack stepped forward, placed his hand on the woman’s shoulders, obviously ready to use force, if necessary, to remove her from the room. No way was he getting off that easy.

  “She stays.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “Cyndi—”

  “Out. Now.”

  Jeremy stepped fo
rward. “Mom—”

  “You too, Son. Everyone, except for her. I need to hear the truth.” She let her accusatory gaze sweep across the guilt ridden faces of the brotherhood. “Judging by all of their reactions, they’ve had ample opportunity to tell me the truth, but haven’t.” Her gaze lingered, burned one man in particular. “You’ve all lost the opportunity to act with any kind of honor.” It was obvious they’d all done their parts to keep Chief’s dirty little secret from her. One by one, they filed out of the room, shuffling slowly, all looking shamefaced, but no doubt ready to point the finger of blame at anyone other than themselves.

  Ty and Jeremy were the last to leave. They looked down at her, their faces both showing signs of confusion and disappointment, revealing their own shock at the situation. At least Gene hadn’t dragged his sons down into this with him. “Close the door please.”

  Jeremy nodded, blinking several times to clear his eyes. “If you need me, just call out.”

  She nodded. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” Just before the door closed, she heard Trini’s anxious query.

  “What’s going on in there?”

  Cynthia cringed inside, knowing her daughter would rather die than accept that her father had done anything wrong.

  She turned on the woman. “Are you happy now? Does it make you feel any better knowing that you’ve replaced any fond memories I’ve ever had of my husband—with this? Not only that, but you’ve totally disillusioned his children. As a husband, he may have made a mistake, but he was a good father to our children.”

  The woman lifted her chin, her response filled with bitterness. “Maybe I’m not the mistake. You ever thought of that?”

  Cynthia grabbed the woman’s arm, walked to the coffin with her. “You see this man? He wasn’t that great at masking his emotions. He was happy being married to me. If he hadn’t been, I’d have known, believe me. Until the day he died, we made love no less than three times a week. He held my hand, hugged me, kissed me … both in private and in public … just as he always has. He sent me flowers for every occasion or for no reason at all, just as he always has.