“Carvy was reluctant to go to the authorities at first, still fearful they’d harm his wife, but after waiting about a week, he called the police. He reported the crime just a few days ago, which explains why we hadn’t picked up anything.” Joe stopped pacing, walking to the sofa where Rain was sitting and kneeling down in front of her. “His wife’s name is Rachel. Rachel Carvy.”
“Rachel Carvy,” she mumbled. Was that who she was? The name didn’t sound familiar; it didn’t sound like her. She’d thought when she’d finally found her name everything would feel right again, things would come back and make sense. But the name Rachel Carvy didn’t sound right; Rachel Carvy didn’t make sense. “But how could that be me? Why would I be found in Nevada?”
“Who knows? Mrs. Carvy had been missing for weeks, the kidnappers could have taken her anywhere in that length of time.”
“But it still doesn’t explain what happened out there in the desert.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t.”
“Then how can you be so sure this…Rachel Carvy could be me?”
“They sent me a description of the wife, of Rachel.”
“And?” she prompted.
“It matched yours enough that I scanned your photos and e-mailed them a picture,” Joe continued, reaching into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “And this is what they sent me back.”
The image of the woman who had been digitized and reproduced on the laser printer wasn’t the clearest, but she couldn’t deny that it resembled her.
She glanced up from the photo, her lip quivering. “Is this me? Is this who I am? Am I Rachel Carvy?”
“We don’t know anything for certain yet,” he reminded her, reaching a hand out and running a finger along her cheek. “But it’s something we need to check out.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“I’ve made the arrangements. We’re flying to Philadelphia in the morning,” he said.
Rain felt nothing; she felt empty, void. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t how she’d imagined it. She’d thought she would feel a sense of relief, a sense of purpose and direction once she finally knew. But now she just felt…numb.
“Rachel Carvy,” she repeated. She looked up at him. “It means nothing.”
“Nothing familiar? Not even Logan Carvy?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. He might as well be telling her she was Martha Washington for all the familiarity she felt. She had no more affinity for Rachel Carvy than she had for them. “What does she do, this Rachel Carvy, for a living I mean, did they tell you?”
“Carvy is wealthy from what I understand,” Joe said. “His wife had been very active socially.”
“A socialite? Is that what you’re telling me? I could be a socialite?”
“Rain,” he said, taking her by the arms. “Let’s just take this one step at a time right now. We don’t know anything for certain. Let’s get to Philadelphia, see how you feel about things then.”
“How I feel about things,” she repeated, pushing his arms away and sitting up. “I can tell you how I feel about things—I feel nothing. How can that be? There’s a chance I’m this socialite Rachel Carvy and I feel nothing.”
She stood up, pushing past him and walking to the window. “What if…what if we don’t go?”
“What do you mean? We have to go.” He started across the room toward her.
“Do we?” She whirled around, facing him.
“Of course we do, Rain. This could be your life, your past. We can’t just turn our backs on that.”
“Can’t we? I don’t know who this Rachel Carvy is. The woman is a stranger to me, her husband is a stranger to me.” She reached out, grabbed at him. “I’m Rain now, Joe. What happens to that? What happens to us?”
She knew she wasn’t making any sense, knew that what she was saying was impossible, but she didn’t want sense and reason right now. She was too frightened, too unsettled.
She had longed for the day she would remember, longed to know who she was and where she’d come from. But now, now that it looked as though the mysteries of her past were finally to be solved, all she could think about was how much it was costing her.
“Rain, you’re talking crazy,” he insisted, reaching out for her. “You’re just feeling a little overwhelmed right now. This is what we’ve been waiting for, the first solid lead that’s going to put an end to this, once and for all.”
“But that other life, those other people, they’re strangers to me. I don’t know them, I don’t remember them.” She clutched at him, feeling more desperate, more frightened than she had that day in the desert. “This is where I belong, Joe. This is where I want to be.” She pulled back, looking up at him. “I’m Rain now. And this is where I belong—here, with you.”
He let her cling to him, let her kiss him and hold on to him tightly, but when he looked down at her, his face was grave and full of dread.
“Rain, this isn’t just about you and me.” He carefully freed himself from her embrace, taking several steps back. “There are other factors to consider, other people involved.”
“I don’t care,” she insisted boldly. “This is my life now and I don’t want to give it up. I don’t want to go back.”
“Rain, you have to,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “There are…”
There was something in his eyes when he looked at her, something dark and utterly hopeless, something that turned her blood to ice.
“Rain,” he continued. “There are children. Rachel Carvy is the mother of two children.”
Rain staggered back, her legs buckling beneath her. Tottering, she landed against the cushions of the sofa, too dazed to do more than stare up at him.
“Ch-children?” she stuttered.
Joe walked back across the living room, kneeling once more in front of her. “A boy and a girl.”
“Children,” she mumbled again. “A son. A daughter.”
“These children have been without their mother for the last eight weeks,” he said, gathering her hands in his. “Rain, you owe it to them—you owe it to yourself to find out if you’re their mother.” He squeezed her hand. “Come with me tomorrow to Philadelphia. Come with me to find out if you’re Rachel Carvy.”
Even though everything in her wanted to revolt, wanted to run and hide and not think about any of this again, there had never been any real question in her mind whether she would actually go with him or not. Of course she would go—she had to. She had to know one way or another if this was who she once had been.
She tried to picture herself married, the wife of a wealthy businessman, a mother of two children. It seemed unfathomable to her that she could be this person—this Rachel Carvy. How could she have forgotten the man she loved? How could she have forgotten her children?
“I’m scared, Joe,” she confessed.
“I’m scared, too,” he admitted.
“Joe, I—I don’t want to lose you, Joe.”
“You never will,” he whispered.
The emotion in his voice had tears springing into her eyes. Even if it turned out that she wasn’t Rachel Carvy, there was a life out there where she had once belonged. And it wasn’t until this moment, it wasn’t until she’d been given so much hope for discovering her past that she realized how much she was going to lose.
“I came as soon as I heard,” Marcy said, rushing through the front door and throwing her arms around Rain’s neck. “Are you okay?”
For a moment Rain couldn’t speak. The emotions were simply too strong, too overwhelming. They rendered her speechless. She simply stood there, clinging to Marcy and feeling tears well up in her eyes.
“I don’t know what to feel.” Marcy confessed after a moment, tears streaming down her cheeks, too. She pulled away. “I’m happy for you, I am, I guess. You’ve waited so long and you need to know. It’s just…”
“I know,” Rain said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m not
exactly sure how I’m suppose to feel, either—happy, sad, scared?” She took Marcy’s jacket and hung it over a hook on the hall stand, then walked with her into the living room. “Of course, it’s all speculation at this point, nothing certain, but we’re leaving for Philadelphia in the morning.”
“So soon?” She sat down on the sofa beside Rain.
“I know,” Rain said with a sigh. “I’m having a little trouble believing it myself. It’s all happening fast.”
“I was hoping…” Marcy reached out, taking Rain’s hand. “I don’t know, I guess I was hoping we’d have a little more time.”
Rain stared down at Marcy’s hand on hers and felt choked by emotion again. Suddenly she was crying once more, tears blurring her vision and spilling onto their hands.
“Oh, Marcy,” she sobbed. “What’s the matter with me? I thought once I knew it would be so wonderful, I thought it would be so much better, but now…now I’m just scared.”
Marcy wrapped her arms around Rain, rocking her gently. “I know sweetie, I know.”
“I don’t want to go,” she confessed tearfully. “I know that’s awful, I know that’s a terrible thing, but I can’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” Marcy said, in a soothing voice.
It was a long time before the emotions had spent themselves and Rain felt in control again.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, pulling a handful of tissues from the pocket of her jeans. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve been so…so emotional since this whole thing started.” She wiped at her tears. “I mean, nothing’s certain, right? This could all just turn out to be nothing. Joe and I could get out there and find out I’m not who they think I am at all and we can come home again.”
Home. Suddenly the word had a sad, melancholy sound. Home. This had been her home—this town and the people in it, this house and the man she had shared it with. This was her home—the only one she’d ever known, the only one she wanted. Would all that change when she entered the world of Rachel Carvy?
“Of course,” Marcy agreed. “You’re just going to check things out.”
“Right,” Rain said, taking a deep breath. But the optimism was false and they both knew it. “Oh, Marcy,” she said with a sigh. “How can I be this person they think I am? A husband and children—how can that be? How could I forget a husband? How could I forget my own children?”
“You suffered a trauma. You have amnesia,” Marcy reminded her. “That’s what happens when you have amnesia—you forget.”
“But it’s like hearing about strangers. There’s nothing familiar, nothing jogging my memory. It’s like I’m hearing about characters in a book or in a movie. They don’t feel real to me.”
“Well, once you get to Philadelphia that’ll change. Once you put faces to these people you’ll feel differently.”
Rain turned to her and smiled. “You’re right. Thank you.”
“Of course I’m right,” Marcy joked, smiling. “I’m a judge. Judges are always right.” But after a moment, her smile faded. “I know you’re going to be busy, but you have to call and tell me what’s going on, promise?”
“I promise,” Rain vowed.
“No matter what happens.”
Rain nodded. “Okay.”
“Even if it’s just a false alarm, okay?”
Rain had to smile. “Even if it’s just a false alarm, I promise.”
Marcy drew in a deep breath. “I’m going miss you—we all are.” She hesitated for just a moment. “Especially Joe.”
Rain turned away. Leaving Joe was something she couldn’t even think about yet. It was all happening so fast—too fast. She’d been caught in a storm, swept up in a gale of speculation and guesswork that left her feeling dazed and confused. She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to feel, but facing it all without Joe wasn’t something she could even consider at the moment.
Maybe once she knew for certain she’d feel differently. Maybe once she remembered the love a wife had for her husband, the love a mother had for her children, maybe then the thought of not having Joe in her life wouldn’t seem so terrifying, but she couldn’t even fathom that now. It hurt too much to think about saying goodbye to him, about not seeing him or being with him every day, not talking with him, or touching him, or hearing his voice. How was she going to survive? How could she let him go?
“I know I’m going to miss all of you,” she whispered.
“Especially Joe,” Marcy added again.
Rain knew she was crying again, only this time she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to stop. “Especially Joe.”
Marcy hugged her tight.
“I know it wasn’t right,” Rain confessed. “I never should have let it happen until I knew who I was, but I couldn’t help it.” She pulled back, looking into Marcy’s caring brown eyes. “I love him, Marcy. How am I ever going to be able to let him go?”
“I’m glad Marcy came by.”
Rain nodded, watching as the taillights of the car disappeared into the darkness. Stepping back inside the house, she closed the front door. “She’s been a good friend.”
Joe nodded. It had been one hell of a day and they would have to leave early in the morning to get to Reno in time to make their plane. But he was too keyed up, too restless to think about going to sleep. Besides, there would be plenty of time later to think about those mundane necessities of life, after he came back from Philadelphia, after he’d said goodbye to Rain.
He stepped to one side, letting her pass, then followed her down the short corridor and into the kitchen. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, how he was going to stand to the side and watch her walk away, watch her walk into the arms of another man.
He’d downplayed it for Rain, letting her believe there was a possibility she wasn’t Rachel Carvy, but gut instinct told him there wasn’t a doubt. She was Mrs. Logan Carvy—wealthy wife, mother and definitely not his.
Of course, if he’d have been smart he would have forced himself to stay away, forced himself not to want her, not to touch her. After all, he’d known from the beginning there had been another life out there somewhere, another place where she belonged, another man who longed to have her back. If he had been smart, he would have kept reminding himself there could never really be a future for them, that what there was between them would have to come to an end once she’d discovered that other life again. If he had been smart…
Smart. That was the problem. He hadn’t been smart since he’d laid eyes on her. He’d broken every rule he’d ever made for himself, breached his own common sense and violated every good intention. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen it coming—he had, he just hadn’t done anything to stop it. He’d wanted her—from the first, from the beginning. He’d walked into this whole thing with his eyes wide-open, blinded by desire, blinded by…
No, he wasn’t going to say the word, he wasn’t even going to think it again. It had no place in his life, no room in his head. He’d dropped his guard, let his heart take control and now he’s paying the price. This was his Armageddon, his day of reckoning and the time to let go.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, walking to the refrigerator and pulling the door open. “I could fix you something.”
Rain shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“You sure?” he asked, bending down and aimlessly surveying the contents inside. He wasn’t hungry and he knew she wasn’t, either; but since sleeping was out of the question, cooking would at least give him something to do. And that’s what he needed, something to do, something to fill in the time and the space until he had to let her go. “How about some scrambled eggs?”
She started to shake her head then stopped, thinking better of it.
“Well, why not?” she said, pushing herself to her feet and heading across the kitchen toward him.
He grabbed for the eggs as she reached around him for the cheese and milk and they quietly went about the job of fixing their meal. He didn’t doubt for a mom
ent that hunger was not what was motivating her any more than it was motivating him. She was looking for something to fill up the time, too.
“Should I make toast?”
“Sure,” he said, thinking toast would probably go good with the eggs they weren’t going to eat anyway.
Unfortunately, the meal didn’t take nearly long enough to finish and before he knew it, they were sitting opposite each other in the breakfast nook in front of a platter of eggs and toast neither of them wanted.
“You’re not eating,” he said, watching her push the eggs around on her plate.
Rain looked down at her plate, then back up to him. “I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.”
He looked down at his own untouched plate. “I know what you mean.”
And so they sat there, neither making any move to leave or to eat, or do anything other than stare down at their plates, lost in their own thoughts.
“What if I don’t remember them?”
He looked up. “Rain, don’t think about that.”
“I can’t help it,” she confessed. “What if I don’t? If I’m who they think I am, what if I don’t remember those people when I see them—my children, my…” She stopped, her voice failing. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “My husband. What if I don’t remember them?”
“Let’s just wait and see how you feel once you get there.”
“I know, I know,” she conceded impatiently.
“And besides, you might feeling differently once you get there.”
“You’re assuming I’m going to walk off that plane and everything’s going to come back.” She sat up, a false smile on her face, and raised her hand in a waving motion. “Hi, everyone, here I am. Mommy’s back!” she mocked. “What if that doesn’t happen? What if I don’t remember them?”
“Then you get to know them again.”
She stood up, walking to the window. Closing her arms around herself, she stared out into the blackness of the night.
“You’d leave me there? With strangers?”
“Why are we talking about this now? Let’s just wait—”
Rain Dance Page 17