Raine Falling (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club)

by Marinaro, Paula

  CHAPTER 9

  I woke up alone with a fuzzy head and too many aches and pains to count. I ran the shower, and stiffened when the hard sprays of water hit my skin. I noticed the beginnings of several more deep blue bruises where that bastard Gino had pummeled me. I wondered again if I had to worry about the junkie and the bastard tag-teaming me one night in some dark parking lot. Then decided I was too fucking tired of it all to care.

  I got out of the shower and wiped the steam from the mirror to peruse the damage. I looked at the inside of my mouth first because I was still worried about loose teeth. Blushing, I said to myself, Don’t think about him. Diego had too much of an effect on me to be safe.

  This time my nose was okay, but there was a swollen purple bruise under my left eye. I had streaks of red running through the whites of that same eye where several blood vessels must have broken. My bottom lip was swollen and keeping with the color of the day, it was blood red. There was a big patch of blue sitting like a soft plum on my chin. I had a deep gash on my hairline where the ring he was wearing caught me on that second slap. But all in all I was okay. Not bad. I had seen worse. And thanks to Gino, I had seen worse on me.

  After the shower, I made my way slowly to the kitchen. I needed coffee. I was still shaky. The first time around I spilled the grounds all over the counter. I got all weepy again. So I figured what the hell and decided to give way to a full-fledged pity party. I figured I had earned it. Instead of making my bed or doing the laundry or engaging in the other millions of household things that needed doing, I headed to the garden.

  Teary eyed, I eased myself into the deep Adirondack chair. I let the wind dry my hair and the sun shine on my face. It took a couple of hours, but I was able to calm myself. Finally, finally I began to lose that numbing sick feeling. I reached into my pocket and found the silver harmonica that was never far from my side. I played a long mournful tune.

  My thoughts wrapped around me like they always did when I played my harp. They took me back to a time when everything that was wrong had turned out right. At least for a while.

  CHAPTER 10

  I was sitting on the dirty floor of our living room trying to untangle Claire’s hair. It was early evening, and our father hadn’t been home in two days. I heard a loud bang as someone came busting through our back door.

  I looked up to see Prosper walking quickly through the house, stopping only when his eyes fell on us. He ran to me and wrapped his big hands around my face. He stood me up and turned me around twice, looking me over. I watched as he did the same to Claire. He nodded at us and gave me a look that was trying to be a smile. Then he turned, taking to the stairs three at a time. We heard banging and doors slamming. He was back again and holding our two little backpacks overflowing with clothes. Prosper bent down close and folded both of us in his big, strong arms. Without even bothering to close the door behind us, he took my baby sister and me out of there.

  We rode in that van for a long time. He drove and drove and all that time he never said a word. I held Claire’s little hand tightly in mine, but really, we were not afraid. Dusk had turned into night when we finally turned off the highway onto a dirt road. Claire had fallen into a deep sleep. I shifted her to lie on my lap, the warmth of her little body comforting me. At the end of the road stood a big, rustic cabin with lights shining brightly from every window. The door slammed behind Pinky, and she was in the driveway even before Prosper came to a complete stop. She fell on him the minute he was out of the van. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but whatever it was calmed her. Then I watched as they both approached the van.

  Prosper opened the heavy van door, and Pinky stuck her head in slowly. She looked at Claire asleep in my lap, and something that looked like pain crossed her face.

  She smiled at me gently. “Hey, Little Darlin’. Claire looks mighty sleepy. Can I take her and put her inside? We have a nice big warm bed just for her. One for you too. I made cookies. I’ve been waiting for you, and I’m so happy you’re here, honey.” She had her arms outstretched ready for Claire.

  I looked past her to Prosper and he nodded. I had long known that Pinky had secrets too. She had more than Prosper and more than my dad. But unlike Prosper, I knew that the darkest of Pinky’s secrets were about things that had been done to her and not about things she had done to others. I reached past Claire to find the small, dirty, pink bunny that she dragged with her everywhere. I said solemnly, “She’s going to need this.”

  Pinky turned to Prosper and unloaded the precious bundle into his big arms. She turned back to me.

  “Raine, do you know why you’re here, honey? Why Prosper came and got you?”

  I nodded wisely. “It’s because our daddy doesn’t come home or take care of Claire anymore.”

  “That’s right, sweetheart. And Claire needs someone to take care of her, doesn’t she? So until your daddy can do that again, Prosper and I thought we would do that for her, and maybe you might let us take care of you too.”

  All the fear and utter despondency that had sat heavy on my little heart for too long washed away and was replaced with an anger so deep that it filled me.

  “I take care of Claire. I do that. I wash her and make her eat. I try to comb her hair but she runs from me. I take care of Claire!” I shouted. “I do that! We don’t need Daddy to do that ever, ever again! And you! You do not get to do that!”

  That was it. I was done. I felt my heart break. The big, dark lie took its place inside my soul where it would dwell and feed and soon become bigger than all the good things. Because now I had a dark secret too, and that secret was that I needed my daddy to do that more than I needed to breathe. And try as I might, I could not make that happen. That was the darkest secret of all. I pulled my arms around me to keep the hard, jagged truth in tight, so it wouldn’t shred me to pieces on the way up. I drew myself in and held on tight.

  Prosper saw me wrap myself around and he knew.

  He knew.

  He pulled Pinky gently out of the way and handed Claire to her. He nodded her towards the house. With a look of great sadness and infinite understanding, Pinky left us, taking Claire and Pink Bunny into the cabin.

  My little chest was heaving, and my throat was balled up so hard with unshed tears that it hurt to breathe. Prosper slid into the seat next to me, not too close but not too far away either. He looked out the window away from me for a time. He casually started unwrapping a candy bar that had been in his pocket. He broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth. He offered the rest to me. I hesitated, then accepted the peace offering. We sat that way for a while, listening to the sounds of a country night and tasting the smooth, creamy chocolate on our tongues.

  “You still playing that little harp I gave you?” he said not looking at me.

  “Every day,” I said, not looking at him.

  He nodded. More silence.

  “You know, don’t you, Little Darlin’, that you’re just about the smartest, most courageous friend that I ever had?”

  “I’m not brave, Prosper,” I whispered miserably. “I’m scared all the time.”

  “That true, Raine?” He turned to look at me then and raised an eyebrow. I looked up at him and nodded the sad truth.

  “Well, I know something about being brave, Little Darlin’. I learned it in Vietnam. Shit, I even have a medal called a Purple Heart in a box right on top of my brown dresser in that cabin over there. If you want, I can show it to you some time.”

  “They give medals for that?” I asked.

  “They sure do, honey. The thing I learned most about courage is that it’s something brave people call upon when they are so scared to do a thing they can barely breathe, but they do it anyway because it’s just the right thing to do.”

  “Does anyone ever get tired of being brave, Prosper?” I put my tiny hand in his.

  He squeezed it gently and said, “ Sure they do, Little
Darlin’. People get tired of being brave all the time.”

  “What happens then, Prosper?” I was looking at him, the weight of the world on my shoulders.

  I heard something catch in the back of his throat. He had to clear it before he went on. “Why, they call on someone who has some brave left over. That’s what they do, honey.”

  “Prosper?”

  “Yes, Raine?”

  “Do you have any brave left over?”

  “Little Darlin’, just so happens that I been saving up a bunch of brave just for you.”

  I thought about this for a while.

  “So, Prosper?”

  “Yeah, Raine?”

  “You got this?”

  He brought the back of his hand up to his eye.

  “Yeah, Darlin’. I got this.”

  I’m not sure how long we stayed at the cabin by the lake with Prosper and Pinky because little ones measure time differently. But I knew it was good time. Claire and I flourished. We had plenty to eat and there were always homemade cookies. Sometimes there were people wearing the leather letter jackets, same as before. Same as before, I would sleep tight with Claire next to me, keeping her safe from the shadows thrown on the wall.

  Prosper bought me several harmonicas in different keys and continued my earlier lessons on the art of playing the harp. The best part of all was, sometimes at night, I would sit curled up at his feet, and he would teach me to sing harmony.

  Our father had first come to see us about two weeks after we were there. Prosper met him at the end of the driveway, and they talked for a long time before he came up. Claire ran to his arms, and he held her tight. I stayed back, watching. When he reached for me, I put my little hand into Prosper’s. In that moment I saw a look of such unbearable pain cross my father’s face, I knew that he loved me. He started coming more often after that, and the dark shadows started to leave his face. When I watched my father watch Claire, I knew that he saw her.

  Right after that first visit, Prosper took me by the hand and led me to a wooden bench in the back of the yard. He sat real close to me with his hands planted on his thighs. His eyes looked into mine.

  “Raine, what I have to say here is pretty important. Fair to say, it will be the most important thing you’re ever going to hear. So I need you to listen to me real close and to remember. Now I’m going to help you do that, but you have to help too. Can you do that for me, Raine? Can you listen real close and remember what I tell you?”

  “Yes, Prosper. I do solemnly swear it.”

  He smiled at that.

  “Raine, I’m gonna help your daddy get where he needs to be. Me and him, why, we had a long talk and we’re going to do whatever that takes. That’s our job. When he does that and when I think . . . when I know he is ready to be the daddy that you and Claire deserve, you’ll be going back home with him. When you’re back home, he is with you, cooking and cleaning and doing all those things that the good daddies do. That’s his job. You good with that, Raine?”

  “I’m good with that, Prosper.”

  “Now in the beginning and a long time after that, I’m going to be checking and making sure that everything happens the way it should be happening. But I won’t be doing it in a way you can see.”

  He took my small hands in his and held them tight.

  “That won’t be me not wanting to see you and Claire. That will be me stepping back and letting your daddy be the man I know he is. It’s important to me that you understand that, Raine.”

  “I understand.”

  His hands were getting sweaty. He let go of mine to reach into his pocket.

  “Can you read this, Raine?” He handed me a small piece of paper.

  “Yes, I can.” And I could.

  “We’re going to read this every day until you memorize it.”

  “My job, Prosper?”

  “A very important part of your job, Little Darlin’, but not the whole of it. You and I, we’re going to read this so much that no matter what happens or where you are, you’ll be able to bring it to mind.”

  “What is it, Prosper?”

  “It’s the whereabouts of a place where you can always find me. Today, tomorrow, twenty years from now. You there, I’m there. And if I’m not there right then, there will always, always, be someone there who can find me. You’re gonna walk right into that place, and you’re going to go up to the bar and tell whoever is behind it that you’re Raine and you’re looking for Prosper.”

  “Prosper?”

  “Yes, Little Darlin’?”

  “What if there’s nobody behind the bar?”

  “Well, you see, honey, that’s a real good question. If you don’t see anybody behind the bar, you just use the lungs that the good Lord gave you. You belt out a yell asking who it is that’s supposed to be behind the bar. Then you tell that man what I just told you. If the day comes when I’m not around, I’ve made arrangements for that too. What that means is that you and Claire will have a safe place. Always.”

  “Like magic,” I whispered. “But better because it’s real.”

  “Just like that, Raine. The other part of your job is to know when you’re going to need to go to that place. That place is not because you miss ole Prosper, or your dad won’t let you eat ice cream for supper. That place is for a time when things are so dark that you cannot see the light coming through. That place is what we call a game changer, sweetheart. That means if there comes a time when you need that place, everything about your life will have to change because you know it just is not safe for you and Claire to be in it anymore. If and when that happens, you come find me.”

  “Like when you came and got me and Claire this time, Prosper? Because my daddy didn’t come home, and we didn’t have food. And it felt like it was dark all the time, even when it wasn’t?”

  “You got it, sweetheart.”

  And I did.

  CHAPTER 11

  The sweet obscure sounds of Eva Cassidy played out from my iPod, and I was singing along in perfect harmony. The subtle tones of my young voice had grown into something sweet, strong, and sultry. Music gave me such pleasure and transported me to a place far from the ties that bound me. I had taught myself to play the guitar and would often sing and play long into the night. It had helped to keep away the loneliness. In those formative years when lifelong friendships were being forged, neither Claire nor I had the kind of lives that invited other people in.

  I was feeling okay, and I was singing in the sunshine. Every so often, I would lift up my chin and let the healing light shine down on my battered face. I stayed out there most of the day. I let the wind take my hair and the grass tickle my toes. I drank lemonade. Then I had myself a couple of beers. I worked in the little garden until my back ached. Occasionally, I would find myself glancing at the back entry. In my mind it was no longer just a screen door but a dark threshold that would lead me out of my warm, sunny space and into a world of worry.

  I was glad that the drop was over and the MC had their money. Past experiences notwithstanding, I knew it was much better to be off their radar. The Diego thing. I decided to not even go there. I still worried about why he was in my house last night. But the Saints were all paid up now, and it was all good. Diego was a complication I couldn’t afford, period. So what if he smelled like clean soap, and when he held me in his arms I had felt safe and protected. He hadn’t stuck around for the light of day. My mom would have said that was him being a “Walk-away Joe.”

  “Real men are the ones who go to sleep next to you at night, wake up next to you in the morning, and hold you in their hearts all the hours in between. You make sure when it’s your time to choose that you pick a man like that.”

  Yeah, I thought wryly. Good luck with that.

  The sun was low in the sky when I finally walked into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. It had been a good day. I h
ad started the day off thinking my life was a train wreck. By the end of the day, I was comparing it to more of a derailment. My life hadn’t crashed and burned, it had simply gotten off track.

  I pulled the screen door open wide ready to face the next thing. When I walked into the kitchen the next thing hit me like a bullet. How could I have missed that? The envelope bag was sitting on the table and must have been there all day. Or had it been? I walked towards it praying to sweet, sweet Jesus that it was empty. Hoping against hope that Diego had grabbed the cash out of it. Why would he want a stupid bulky bag anyway, right? He wouldn’t. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about. Don’t worry. Nothing to worry about. At all.

  When I picked it up and saw the cash sitting like a heavy stone still in the bag, I sank to the floor. This couldn’t make sense in any way that was good. Diego hadn’t taken the money. Which meant . . . what? Or after having taken it, had he come back while I was outside singing it up in the garden thinking the worst was over?

  Shit, they had even sent him to come two days early for it. Why leave it without a word? Unless maybe he forgot it. Oh, of course that was it. How dumb of me to worry. He had been so hypnotized by my bloody, beaten face and so enthralled by my puke fest that he simply forgot about the thirty thousand dollars that I owed his MC.

  Why had he been here sitting in the dark, waiting for me, and then had not taken that money? Unless it wasn’t the money he had come for. So what had he come for?

  I was pacing.

  Think. Think. Think. Think.

  They had said that the money wouldn’t be enough if . . . if . . . if . . . what?

  Oh, sweet Jesus.

  If there was something Claire was involved in that basically fucked over the MC.

  I had grilled her on the way to the hospital. She had said over and over that she had had very little involvement in Jamie’s business. But that night she had tried to tell them that Jamie had the money. How had she known that? How would she have known anything at all about his money if she wasn’t involved?