Hope In Every Raindrop

by Wesley Banks

  She looked down at her feet as they touched the floor and she sat forward. For a moment she just sat there, and Doc thought he may have to help her out of the room. But she managed to finally stand.

  At that very moment, Kyle lifted his left hand. Katie's eyes flashed to his, but they were still closed.

  "Doc," Katie called, even though he was still standing in the doorway.

  "His hand. What is he doing?" Katie said, pointing towards the bed.

  Kyle's eyes were still shut, but his hand was slightly raised above the bed. His fingers opened and then closed, almost as if he were slowly waving.

  Doc looked back at Katie with eyes full of sorrow.

  "He’s just dreaming." Doc said.

  He knew Katie could tell he was lying.

  "Come. Let's get you something to eat."

  Katie walked past Doc as he lightly touched her back, guiding her out of the room. He looked at Kyle once more, knowing full well what Kyle was really doing.

  He was calling for King.

  * * *

  Katie sat down at the table, where Doc had already set two plates and some silverware. A black iron crock pot simmered on the stove. Doc went into the kitchen, lifted the clear glass top, and looked inside. “Perfect timing.”

  He looked over at Katie. “I hope you like chicken and dumplings.” He grabbed two bowls and filled them to the brim, carefully walking them back to the table.

  Doc didn’t even wait for it to cool before he took a bite. Katie just sat there and watched as her food let off wave after wave of steam.

  “You do like chicken and dumplings, right?” he asked.

  She forced a smile. “I do. I was just thinking.” Doc took another bite and followed it with a big gulp of water. “What’s Kyle’s story?” she asked.

  “You mean with the dogs?”

  “No, he told me about the origin of the dogs.”

  Doc raised an eyebrow.

  “It just doesn’t add up though. I mean, I get it, he loves those dogs and loves training, and that’s why he stays. But…” Katie trailed off.

  “But…?”

  Katie paused for a moment, thinking about the best way to ask the question. “Every character has a plot, a reason for being. Kyle’s plot, you could say, is training the dogs. But what’s underneath all that? What’s his motivation to see that plot through to the end?” She hated the analogy even as she said it.

  Doc set the water down and looked down at his plate. She could sense the apprehension in his response. But to her surprise, he began to answer.

  “It all started fourteen years ago. Kyle was just nine at the time. It was summer; I used to watch the boy for my sister – Kyle’s mom – once school let out. The late-afternoon rain was falling furiously from the sky—that boy loved watching it rain. Didn’t matter what time of the day, if it was raining, Kyle was on the porch watching.

  “I can still remember the look in his eyes when I walked out of the house—it was as if he knew somehow. But, he didn’t understand when I told him his parents wouldn’t be coming to get him. I told him about their car going off the road, and it was like he didn’t even hear me. Like nothing made sense.” He paused, breathing in deeply.

  “Day after day, he’d wait on the porch for them to pick him up, but they never came. He kept asking me when they’d be here. Eventually, I didn’t know what to say anymore.

  “One day when we were sitting on the porch, he turned to me and said something that no nine-year-old should ever think to say. He told me he had no hope left.”

  Katie wiped away several small tears from the corner of her eye.

  “I grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to the bottom of the porch steps. I pointed towards the south, where the sky was dark and sheets of rain filled the space between the sky and the ground. Then I looked at him and said, ‘There is hope all around us—in every breath, in every raindrop.’”

  Chapter 30

  Katie laid down on the couch after dinner. She was feeling better, but she didn’t want to walk back to the cottage. Not without knowing Kyle was okay.

  The space between each couch cushion made it difficult to get comfortable. She tried turning onto her side, and then her stomach, but no matter which way she laid Doc’s last words replayed over and over in her mind.

  There is hope all around us—in every breath, in every raindrop.

  She had never heard anyone use those words, but her father.

  When she finally woke again it was still dark outside. It had been over a day since the fire and, surprisingly, the pain in her arm was already subsiding. Or maybe that was just the painkillers that Doc had given her. Either way, as she took the sling off and stretched her arm, it felt better.

  The house was silent as she sat up on the couch. She scanned the living room and kitchen, half expecting to find Doc making breakfast or just sitting there looking over her. He was nowhere to be found.

  She wiped the sleep from her eyes and walked down the hall to Kyle's room, but when she opened the door, the bed was empty. He was gone, too.

  Katie didn't know if this was good or bad. Her mind began to race. Was he okay and gone of his own volition, or had he gotten worse in the night? What if Doc had to rush him to the nearest hospital?

  In the back of her mind, she heard Kyle’s voice.

  Calm.

  Instead of rushing out of the house, she realized in the worst-case scenario she couldn’t do anything. Kyle was sure to be fairly close—Doc wouldn’t just let him wander off if he was in any real danger. Still, she wanted to find him.

  She only made it to the top of the first step before the screen door closed behind her and she heard a welcome voice. “Well, good morning.” Doc was seated casually in his rocking chair with a cup of coffee between both hands.

  “Kyle is gone?” Katie asked.

  "This is true," Doc nodded as he sipped his coffee.

  "Is he okay?"

  "I suspect not."

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “I do not.”

  “Dr. Anderson, I’m doing my best to remain calm, but your answers aren’t exactly helping.”

  "I'm sorry,” Doc said, looking down at the steam rising from the hot liquid. “I’m just not sure there’s anything we can do right now. At least, nothing I can do.”

  “I’m a writer. You’re a doctor. If there is anyone between the two of us who can help him, my money’s on you.”

  "Unfortunately, I have no remedy for a broken heart," Doc replied solemnly.

  Katie's shoulders sank when she heard his words. She leaned back against the top rail of the steps.

  "He knows about King?"

  "He does."

  "What did he say when you told him?"

  "I didn't tell him."

  "I don't understand. Then how did he find out?"

  Doc just sat there staring into the distance, slowly rocking, the curved legs of the chair easing over warped floorboards.

  "Doc?"

  He set his coffee down on the small table next to him and clasped his hands together on his lap. "I wish I had all the answers right now—I really do. But, I don’t,” he said, looking away. “You should try and get some more rest, it's still early."

  "I don't need any more rest. You've been telling me nothing but to rest for almost two days. I need to know that Kyle is okay."

  "Kyle will be fine. In time."

  "How can you be so calm about all of this?"

  Doc stood up and started to walk back inside. "Join me for an early breakfast, then?" he asked.

  "How can you just ignore Kyle like this, and go on about your day as if nothing happened?" Katie’s patience was quickly turning to anger.

  "I think I have a few eggs left if you'd like."

  "You can abandon Kyle if you want to, but I won't," Katie said as she stomped down the steps and away from the house.

  Chapter 31

  Katie ran across the dirt tracks in front of the house and into what w
as left of the barn. For a moment she had forgotten about the fire, but as she stood in the middle of the ruined structure she let out a hushed gasp.

  The once-faded red boards were black, stained with the ash of burned wood. The far right side of the barn, where the loft used to be, no longer existed, and the roof on the left side cantilevered precariously over what remained of the dog pens.

  Katie stepped through piles of splintered wood and noticed leashes, rigging, and other various tools mixed in. Some of them were burned so badly they were barely recognizable, while others were seemingly untouched. The smell of burned wood, plastic, and steel were heavy in the air around her as she walked.

  She made her way through the pens until she found an overturned table. It was the same table she had seen a couple of days earlier, when she’d first discovered the loft. It was only big enough for one person to sit at, and housed two drawers on the right side. She lifted it up and turned it back on all fours, as if that small gesture might mean something to this old barn. One of the drawers was jarred open. When she bent to shut it, she noticed something inside.

  She pried the drawer open with her fingers and nearly ripped it off the tracks, stumbling backward a few steps. Regaining her balance, she looked down to find the same brown book she had seen before. It seemed mostly unharmed by the fire. She picked it up and held it in front of her with two hands, almost as if she were reading a map.

  Katie folded the cover back on itself and rested against the desk as she flipped through the book.

  There was an assortment of poems, and quotes, and passages. Most of them from famous writers that she recognized. Her fingers continued delicately across the pages until she found words she must have read a thousand times. Words that she had heard Doc speak. Words her father wrote.

  She took a deep breath, fighting back the well of emotions and closed the book, pushing it back into the drawer.

  Katie took another deep breath as she looked around the barn once more. Closing her eyes, she calmed herself.

  I need to find Kyle.

  Then, she heard a familiar rumble in the distance. She walked outside the barn, or what was left of it, until she had a clear view to the south. A gray sky was quickly turning black, blotting out the late morning light. A flash of white flickered far in the distance. A storm was coming.

  And that meant she knew exactly where Kyle would be.

  Chapter 32

  Katie approached using the same path Kyle had shown her. When she turned the last corner down the dirt path, she expected to see him sitting underneath the large oak tree. She could picture him with his back against the thick base, his legs outstretched. Just looking out to the fields. Watching.

  But as she approached, she didn’t see anyone. She walked a complete circle around the tree and then out into the field, looking as far as she could see in every direction. He wasn’t there.

  He has to be here.

  Katie’s mind began to race again, but she stopped herself, Kyle’s words echoing in the back of her mind.

  The dogs see everything. The way you walk, the lightness or heaviness of a single step. The way you look at things, with curiosity or insecurity. Even the way you breathe. They take the time to notice the details that we often take for granted.

  Katie bent to one knee and placed her hand over the cool grass as she breathed in deep and exhaled slowly, calming herself. She shook her body as chills ran from her shoulders and down her back.

  Being around Kyle had changed her. She felt more intuitive, more aware.

  She looked around again—at the large angel oak behind her, stretching its limbs like an old man reaching for a memory. The tulip poplars showing more yellow than a week ago. And the sourwoods, sweetgums, and dogwoods turning deep red, while the larger hardwoods had subtler changes. She could even smell the crisp autumn leaves as they fell softly amongst the blades of Carolina bluegrass that stretched down to the foothills from the distant Blue Ridge Mountains.

  Her eyes settled on the tall, thin grass that poked up between her fingers, still pressed against the ground. She looked closer, the individual blades shivering at each gust of wind. Her mind hadn’t processed it yet, but she had been staring right at it for several seconds. One solitary boot print. And then another. And another.

  The girl who had left California two weeks ago would have never noticed any of this. But that same girl now stood in the lowlands of South Carolina following a pair of boot prints for several feet, until she realized where they led.

  The cottage.

  Chapter 33

  Kyle sat on the bench swing that hung from a tree limb in front of the house. He favored one side, resting his elbow on the wooden armrest, which caused the swing to hang uneven. He stared up towards the light blue sky.

  He didn’t even move as Katie approached, and she wondered how long he had been sitting here. The bandage across his forehead was gone, and in its place was a jagged cut several inches long. She thought she saw his jeans bunch up where several more bandages on his legs might be.

  Katie sat down next to him. Chips of brittle white paint crumbled beneath her from all the weathered years of disuse.

  Kyle didn’t take his eyes off the morning sky, even as the chains groaned at the added weight. The stars were still visible in the distance, a pale white compared to the sun, trying to hold on just a little longer.

  At first Katie just sat next to him quietly. Several minutes of silence passed, though the time felt longer than her entire stay. The time dragged on, until finally Katie’s heart overflowed with two simple words.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Kyle didn’t respond. He didn’t even acknowledge her presence. He just continued looking out into the distance. Away from the farm. Away from her.

  Katie thought about just leaving him alone. The cottage was right here. She could go sit inside and wait until he was ready to talk. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe she’d made a mistake trying to find him. But the more she thought about it, the more it didn’t make any sense. Why would he come here? There were thousands of acres he could get lost in. But he was here.

  Kyle stood up and took several steps forward, leaving Katie to sway uncomfortably on the bench alone.

  She watched him as he stood staring into the morning sky. His hands dipped into the crest of his front pockets and his weight leaned to the right. His white and navy trucker hat was pulled down tight over his eyes. The way he looked reminded Katie of the first night she had seen him—guarded.

  She dragged her feet lightly on the ground until the bench came to a stop, then stood. She took several steps, until she was next to Kyle. Without realizing it, she extended her hand and lay it on his shoulder.

  Kyle’s touch was unexpected as he reached up and covered her hand with his own. She could feel the calluses that lined his palms as they slid across the back of her hand. Katie stood with him for a moment. Then, Kyle exhaled a deep breath and wrapped his hand around hers, lifting it off his shoulder. She thought back to that day in the barn.

  She waited for him to push her away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he held her hand out in front of him like the beginning of a waltz. As they faced each other, he didn’t avoid her gaze.

  But as Katie looked back, all she felt was guilt, and it welled up in her like a wave ready to crash on the beach at any moment. And then, it crashed.

  She stepped forward, burying her head in his chest. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I’m so sorry.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as her body began to tremble.

  Then, there was warmth—like stepping out of a shadow on a cool autumn day. His hands pulled her tighter against him as he wrapped his arms around her. She slid her own arms around his waist.

  They stood there for several minutes before Kyle spoke. His mouth was just above her head, and his words were a gentle hum. “When I was younger, Doc used to always read to me. He’d grab books by Plato, Aristotle, Seneca, Shakespeare, or Thoreau. But no matter what he read, I always wanted to hear more Emerso
n. To this day I don’t think I understand half of what he wrote, but the words themselves just felt powerful. There was this one essay though.” Kyle paused, exhaling. “In it, he wrote ‘the remembrance of these visions outlasts all other visions.’”

  Katie stepped back and looked up towards Kyle, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her father had loved Emerson—she knew the verse well. It was a beautiful line, full of love and hope. But when Kyle spoke the words all she felt was pain.

  He lifted his cap and ran his fingers through his hair as he let out a deep breath. “I’ve been trying all morning to just remember King, but it’s like my vision of him is already fading. It means…Emerson was wrong.”

  She wanted so badly to tell him that everything would be all right, but she knew those simple words would mean nothing. As she tried to think of words that would carry some meaning, she began to realize she didn’t need words at all.

  Katie grabbed Kyle by the hand. “Come with me.”

  She pulled him hard enough that he almost tripped over his own boots. Katie felt him try to resist, but she wouldn’t allow it. She had an idea. And she believed it to be a good one.

  Chapter 34

  Kyle almost tripped again as Katie pulled him up the stairs and into the cottage. She let go of his hand and walked over to the dining room table.

  Katie watched him look around the room at all her papers, sticky notes, pads, and pictures spread all over the place. She half expected him to start organizing all the piles into nice neat stacks.

  Writing isn’t a process. It’s a mess. That was one of the first things her father taught her. The sooner you realize this is about to be a disaster, the sooner you can get over it and just write.

  In Katie’s mind, it was shaping up to be a beautiful mess. Each pile made up a single scene. There were a little over twenty scenes; eventually, she would piece them all together and then fill in the gaps. For now, though, it was all about just getting it down. Whenever she was in a flow, she’d usually type on her laptop. Random thoughts were scribbled on sticky tabs, and if she was away from her laptop she’d write in her own made-up shorthand on a spiral notepad she always carried. Most of the pictures she’d taken were on her phone, but she kept a portable printer with her, as well. She liked to put a picture on the top of each pile. It helped her visualize the scene.