Kissed by the Rain

by Claudia Winter

  “Grandmother was behind this from the very start.” My voice was devoid of emotion. It didn’t even tremble.

  Charlie pulled the cover up to her nose. There was no way out and she knew it.

  “It was even her idea.”

  I was at her bed in four steps and tore away the blanket. Charlie squealed and then was wracked by a coughing fit.

  “Who else is in on it? Mama? Bri and Li? Spill it, Charlie.”

  “Aunt Li has no idea, I swear. You know her. She’d have blabbed.”

  “What about Mama and Bri?”

  Charlie’s eyes watered—she flailed her hands and gasped for air. I picked up the bottle of water on the nightstand, but held it close when Charlie reached for it. She grimaced and I raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, we had to involve Aunt Mathilde. We couldn’t have got hold of the ring without her. Aunt Bri was against it at first, but then she liked the idea of playing your bodyguard.”

  Charlie grabbed the bottle, drank greedily, and then let herself fall back onto the ruffled pillows with a relieved moan.

  “Why are you always so mean to me?” she asked.

  “You should ask yourself that question.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. Of course Bri was in on it. And my mother. That’s why she hadn’t immediately called the police when the ring was “stolen.” I had to admit, unlike my duplicitous great-aunt, I’d never have thought my mother capable of such a convincing performance. She had really seemed stunned and had even tried to talk me out of the trip to Scotland. It was a clever chess move. She knew me well enough to realise that her objections would only strengthen my resolve.

  It was outrageous. My family had played me like a fiddle.

  “But why?”

  I could barely manage a whisper. Trembling and with my legs buckling under me, I dropped onto Charlie’s bed. She moved closer to the wall, afraid I would attack her.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you,” I mumbled, thinking about the last conversation I’d had with my grandmother. Why didn’t she tell me that she disapproved of the marriage? Not even Mama ever uttered a bad word about my relationship with Justus. Why would the people I loved resort to such methods?

  “We meant well.”

  Charlie’s pale hand crept across the blanket like a tiny animal and gently nudged my knee.

  “Honestly, we were worried. You’re so dogged, single-minded—in everything. We thought, maybe if you got away from Frankfurt and had time to think about this marriage, it—”

  “It still would be my choice—mine alone.”

  “True. It’s your choice, but—”

  “There is no but, Charlie. I’m going to marry Justus. That was the plan a week ago, and that’s the plan today. I’m not going to dump my partner of nine years just because”—Some Scottish guy made plum pudding of my heart—“some people think they know what’s best for me. There is no change of plan. Period.”

  My heart was pounding so hard that I was sure Charlie could hear it. I was sweating, burning up with fear that my life would end up in chaos. None of them understood.

  This fear often seized me at night, gripping my throat, but this was the first time I’d experienced it during the day. Even as a child, I’d had a passion for order. I always tidied up everything I could reach—cutlery trays, boxes of buttons, the tools in the shed. I loved to sort books alphabetically and clean out my knapsack. My first appointment book was a revelation. It brought order to the adult world of which I was afraid long before entering it.

  I had made rough drafts for everything ever since—driver’s licences, high school exit exams, university studies, jobs, friendships, and relationships. Nobody had any idea how much I depended on my future being predictable and clear. Even if I supposedly missed some of life’s beauty along the way, I needed bulleted lists like I needed air. That was the sad secret of my professional success. And I needed this marriage because it would save me from chaos and failure.

  I raised my chin and looked straight at Charlie for so long that she lowered her eyes.

  “Grandmother says—”

  “What Grandmother wants, most of all, is for me to wear the bride’s ring when I walk down the aisle. She’ll get her wish, even if she doesn’t approve of the man at my side.” The words hurt, but they sounded harsh enough to hide my panic.

  Charlie looked sad. “Justus will make you unhappy, and you know it. You’re just not willing to admit it to yourself.” She sat up in bed and took my hand. “Life doesn’t follow predetermined plans. It isn’t perfect. When new doors open, it’s so incredibly precious. Please don’t run away from them.”

  “Where is the ring, Charlie?” I withdrew my hand and moved away from her.

  “Are you listening to me at all, Jo?”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t have it anymore,” she whispered.

  “What the hell do you mean?”

  “It . . . it wasn’t planned. We ran out of money and had to somehow make it to Aunt Finola in Kincraig. So I took it to a pawnshop—”

  “You did what?” I gasped for air. “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me you didn’t pawn a centuries-old family heirloom for a bus ticket.”

  “I was going to redeem it on time with the money from Ian’s gig in Inverness! But then everything went wrong.”

  “Where’s the pawnshop?”

  “In Edinburgh.” Charlie swallowed with difficulty. “Mr. MacGrady promised he wouldn’t put it up for sale for a few days. I thought that gave me tons of time, but then I got sick and Ian cancelled the show. So by now . . . Jo, where are you going?”

  My temples pulsated with pain. My chest moved up and down, but no air reached my lungs. Breathe. I had to breathe. Outside. I headed for the door with clenched fists.

  “Going to see Mr. MacGrady to pick up my ticket home.”

  I managed to tiptoe past the kitchen—the sound of clattering dishes, the smell of fresh coffee—without being noticed. Then I almost ran straight into Bri in the yard.

  I pressed myself up against the wall of the house just in time and watched as my aunt took Hank for a walk, chatting to him cheerfully. She held his leash like a set of reins, fists raised and arms bent. It didn’t seem to bother Hank that Bri had mistaken him for a horse. He trotted next to her and responded to her words with an occasional wag of his tail.

  Vexed, I watched the odd couple until they disappeared from my field of vision. Bodyguard, my foot. Bri was as good at being a bodyguard as a Doberman is at herding sheep.

  I heard voices coming from the bench by the lake where I would have liked to stop and think things over. Li and Monsieur Barneau sat together, wrapped in blankets. With Li’s cooing laughter still in my ear, I went the long way around the garden. Stumbling over roots and brambles, I ended up on the trail that had already cost me a shoe once. I briefly flirted with the idea of returning to the boathouse, but lost my nerve and turned towards the barn.

  The wooden door was ajar. Relieved, I slipped into the semi-darkness that welcomed me with the sweetish scent of straw and dog. Gardening tools hung on the walls. I made my way past waist-high containers filled with fodder, bags of potting soil, and a dusty riding mower, trying not to make any noise. All of the kennels but one were empty. I looked cautiously inside and met the watchful eyes of a Border collie surrounded by five or six whimpering furry bundles.

  “Hey, girl,” I whispered.

  She wagged her tail. Without thinking, I pushed up the bolt, went into the kennel, and sat down at a respectful distance. The mama dog paid me no mind, too focused on the blackish-brown explorer who had climbed onto her back.

  Within seconds, I had two puppies in my lap, gnawing on my fingers with their tiny teeth. Exhaling deeply, I smiled.

  “It never ceases to amaze me what effect animal babies have on people,” an amused voice said behind me. “Especially women.”

  I closed my eyes—my quiet moment alone just was not to be.

  “Did Aunt B
ri sic you on me?” I asked, lifting my chin.

  Aidan was wearing a cowboy hat and chewing on a piece of straw—a cliché come to life, even though it would have been a more fitting look in Wyoming or Montana. Still, it was a very appealing stereotype, complete with a lumberjack shirt under which I knew a fire-spewing dragon hid.

  I quickly shooed away the image and focused on the puppy I had christened Little Hank. It was about to pee on my lap. I set the protesting yapper and his sibling back down in the straw.

  “Why would your aunt put me on your trail?” Aidan asked.

  I shrugged and tried to look casual. I got up with stiff knees and awkwardly brushed straw and dog hair from my jeans.

  “Are you quite all right, Mrs. Stone?”

  I shook my head and stared at the ground. I couldn’t even laugh or yell about his calling me “Mrs. Stone” again. I felt no joy. On the contrary, everything in me was in messy, unbearable disorder.

  “How’s Ian?” I asked without answering, kneading my fingers.

  “He’s left to see Dad.”

  “And how is your dad?”

  If Aidan was surprised by my sudden interest in his family, he didn’t show it.

  He scratched his chin. “Well, the old man has weathered worse storms. And the doctors are optimistic, even though Dad’s fallen into the habit of acting as if the end is near. Sometimes, I even suspect he enjoys all the attention. I do hope, though, that he makes his peace with Ian and doesn’t show him the door a second time.”

  “How about Finola? Has she come to terms with it? She seems very sad.”

  “She wants Dad to stay at her guesthouse. He’ll drive her and Uncle Angus crazy, but she’s determined.”

  “That’s good.” I nodded hastily. “Sounds like family.”

  Family. The word tasted bitter in my mouth, and I grimaced.

  “So you talked to your cousin.”

  For a fraction of a second, I was tempted to deny it. But Aidan reached out and lifted my chin with one finger, forcing me to look directly into his eyes.

  “Good,” he nodded. “Where’s the ring?”

  “In Edinburgh,” I murmured. “She pawned it.”

  The surprise on his face was almost immediately replaced by a grin. He turned and charged out of the kennel.

  “What’re you waiting for, Mrs. Stone?” he shouted over his shoulder. “Let’s drive to our bonny capital.”

  Aidan parked on a quiet side street near Princes Street Gardens with an impressive view of Edinburgh Castle. Shivering, I turned up the collar of my trench coat and braced myself against the wind that had almost ripped the car door out of my hand.

  The tiny store on Rose Street was the fifth we had visited, and looked least like a pawnshop.

  We hadn’t found Thompson & Halberry in the Yellow Pages, arriving there more or less by accident. The saleslady in pawnshop number four, who smirked at my yellow Border collie jumper before flirting openly with Aidan, knew old Mr. MacGrady. She’d visited his shop herself a few months before to have a necklace appraised since he was regarded as a jewellery expert.

  I warily looked up at the decaying brick building. Someone had taped newspaper over the small shop window from the inside, and it took a moment for my tired brain to connect the dots. I stared at the note on the green door, the message written on it with a felt-tip pen—“Out of Business.”

  The ground seemed to open up under my feet. I read the sign a second time, then a third.

  “That just can’t be true.” Aidan took a sharp breath and reached out to ring the doorbell.

  “Don’t.”

  “Why?” he replied. “Just because the shop’s closed doesn’t necessarily mean the inventory’s been sold off.”

  “The ring’s gone,” I said, holding on to the shoulder strap of my handbag as if it was a lifeline. “Let’s forget it.”

  “But you need that ring!”

  I had to smile. His hair was tousled by the wind and his green eyes flashed defiantly through the drizzle. Had he worn a kilt and a sword, he would have given Li’s romantic heroes a run for their money.

  “Sometimes you just have to accept that fate has a mind of its own,” I heard myself say.

  “Sure—if you’re talking about natural disasters or something. In this case, though, you should at least give it a try. Destiny likes to play games, so let’s deal and draw cards.” He gestured to the bell. “If nobody answers, maybe the ring is lost. But if—”

  “Then we’ll find out they’ve sold it,” I said.

  “So what? Mr. MacGrady can probably tell us who bought the ring.” He raised his hands, palms up. “There’s always another card in the deck, Josefine. After this, fate has the next move. Then it’s our turn again. Those are the rules.”

  “You never give up, do you?” I grumbled, secretly admiring his unwavering belief that everything would turn out all right. “Why are you still helping me? What’s in it for you?”

  “You mean other than the fact that Ian has come home because of you and that I’m in your debt?” He smiled wryly. “I only can repeat myself, Mrs. Stone . . .”

  His hand shot forward and rang the bell.

  “I just want you to be happy.”

  15

  “It’s okay,” I whispered, even though nothing was.

  We had been sitting in the parked truck in front of the former pawnshop for half an hour, silently watching the wind rattling shutters and parking signs, churning puddles, and tearing young plants from window boxes.

  After Aidan had pushed the doorbell several times, then held it down for what seemed like forever, a woman had opened a window on the second floor and shouted that the MacGradys had moved away a few days ago. She told us that the couple had grown tired of city life and moved to some godforsaken village further north. She said it was such a wretched place that she couldn’t even remember its name. What she did remember, though, was that they’d said only a trail led to their house, and it was impassable in winter. “They’re off their rocker” was her final assessment, before she shut her window loudly and indignantly.

  “Off their rocker,” Aidan imitated the grating voice of the neighbour, drumming against the steering wheel.

  “I doubt it.” I twirled a strand of hair around a finger.

  We looked at each other. The corners of Aidan’s mouth were twitching and my mouth stretched sideways all on its own. We burst into laughter. We laughed in the same way we had been silent—helplessly and longer than necessary—until our faces were red and tears rolled down our cheeks. Eventually, silence fell again, this time a much lighter one. I don’t think I’d ever felt so close to anyone before.

  I pulled out my mobile phone, remembering that I hadn’t checked it the day before when its buzzing had interrupted us. I found a text message from Justus, sent at two in the morning. It consisted of just four words:

  I am in Edinburgh.

  For a moment, the earth stopped turning.

  Aidan cleared his throat. “Well, you shouldn’t leave Scotland without trying our legendary fish and chips,” he said, motioning to a small food stall on the corner. “Why don’t I go grab us some?” He looked at the phone in my hand. “It’ll probably take a few minutes for them to make it, so you can . . .” He didn’t finish, but opened the door. “Ketchup or mayo?”

  I gaped. He might just as well have asked me whether I wanted to be shot or beheaded.

  “Okay, both. Good choice.”

  I watched him saunter along the path, hands buried in his coat pockets. He jumped over some puddles and stepped aside for a woman with a rollator walker. She lifted her umbrella in gratitude, to which he responded with a friendly greeting. Then he crossed the street and disappeared into the fish and chip shop.

  Justus picked up on the first ring. I didn’t give him time to speak.

  “What do you mean, ‘I am in Edinburgh’?”

  “I thought you’d be glad,” he answered after a short pause that echoed in my ears.

&nbs
p; “But . . . why?” I stuttered helplessly. “I mean, of course I’m glad. It’s just . . . unexpected.”

  “Sorry about that. I know you don’t like surprises.”

  Wrong. I just hated to be caught off guard.

  “Like the saying goes—if Mohammed won’t come to the mountain . . . I missed you, Finchen.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the Grand Duchesse. Hard to believe this monstrosity got a five-star rating. The Wi-Fi is a joke. When can you get here to rescue me?”

  “I . . .” I saw a young couple leave the fast-food shop, their arms around each other.

  “Listen, sweetie. I know you’re going through something difficult right now—even though I don’t understand what. You needed me and I wasn’t there. But I’m here now, in Scotland. Isn’t this every woman’s dream—the man you love chases you halfway around the globe? Well, almost.”

  This was followed by his usual laugh—slightly nasal, as if he had a cold. Even though everybody else made fun of it, I had always liked his laugh.

  “Come on, don’t leave me hanging here. We’ll find a better hotel, spend one or two days shopping in the city, and then fly back to Frankfurt. Because, in case you forgot, we still have the tiny, inconsequential matter of organising a wedding to do.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. Believe me.”

  My voice sounded hoarse. I was still staring at the door to the fish and chip shop, but Aidan was taking his time. Or maybe giving me time. He had this uncanny ability to sense—

  Wait a minute! I was on the phone with the man I was about to marry. This was not the right time to think about Aidan Murray—not now, and even less so later on.

  “I’ll be there in an hour, Justus.”

  It wasn’t that hard to sound resolute, and glad. Yes, I was happy, very happy. Justus was my home—who wouldn’t like going back home?

  “I love you, Finchen.”

  “Yes, I—”

  At that moment, Aidan stepped outside with two large paper bags in his hands, and I completely forgot what I was going to say. Not only did it look like he had ordered enough to feed an entire rugby team, he had also donned a silly hat advertising the fast-food place and a matching cardboard nose. I couldn’t help giggling.