After the Summer Rain

by Gerri Hill

  A young girl in love.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Erin stood with her shoulder against the railing, her gaze traveling across familiar things: the chickens making their last pass for insects before the waning light chased them to their roost, the twins eyeing her through the fence, the two magpies on the gate talking to her like old friends, the setting sun’s rays glistening on the creek, the hummingbirds buzzing at the feeder, the rosebushes, the piñon pine on the corner. The shed.

  There were sounds too. Sounds that she wanted to take with her: the faint splash of the gurgling creek against the rocks, the clucking of the chickens, the breeze in the trees, the call of a raven as he soared toward the bluff.

  All familiar now. No traffic noise, no horns, no chatter, no clutter. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to memorize it all, wanting—needing—to be able to recall it when she left. She wondered how long it would stay with her. She’d been here three months—less one week—and she had a hard time remembering her daily commute to work, the spreadsheets she’d pored over as if they were life or death, the endless phone conversations with clients and contractors. All of that had faded away as if they’d never been a part of her life. Would her time here—Melanie—fade away too, once she got back home, got back to her real life?

  She heard the door open, but she didn’t turn around. Soon, two warm hands slid up her back, then they pulled her close to an equally warm body.

  “You okay?”

  She swallowed, her gaze still fixed on Rosie as her little nose twitched, begging for a rub. “Are we ever going to see each other again? Talk? Keep in touch?”

  “Oh, sweetie…how? There’s no phone. The occasional email?” The arms tightened for a moment, then relaxed, turning her around to face her. “There’s no point, Erin. We live in two different worlds. You’ll get home, back to your routine.” Melanie smiled quickly. “Well, I hope not your old routine. I hope you’ll start keeping normal hours. But you know what I mean. You’re healed, honey.” Mel reached out, touching between her breasts. “In here, you’re healed. Whatever demons you were fighting, you’ve defeated them. You’re strong again. You’ll meet someone, you’ll let them in. I’ll be a fond memory.” She smiled again, this time a bittersweet smile that Erin knew was forced. “At least I hope it’ll be fond.”

  “Mel—”

  “Erin, we knew you’d be leaving. Let’s don’t pretend otherwise.”

  Erin studied her, seeing the sadness in her eyes that Mel was bravely trying to hide. “What about you? Have you defeated your demons?”

  “I think so. I guess I won’t know for sure until…well, until they don’t haunt me anymore.”

  Erin touched her cheek lightly, letting her fingers trail across her skin. “I’d like to think I helped with that.”

  “You’ve helped in more ways than I could possibly tell you. I feel…well, I think I feel normal again.”

  “Normal enough to want to leave here?”

  Melanie grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Wanting to leave and able to leave are two different things. This is my home, Erin. This is my life. Whether I feel healed, whether my demons have left or not, that doesn’t mean I want to leave here.”

  “Yeah, I know. Hermit and all.”

  “Yes. And Stella and the ladies—they need me. They’re my family. Having you here made me realize that I need a family.”

  Erin nodded, glad for that, at least. What had she been thinking? That Mel would want to pack up and leave with her? No. She couldn’t picture Mel in a city. Actually, she couldn’t picture Melanie anywhere but right here where she was.

  Melanie leaned closer and kissed her…a gentle, slow, quiet kiss. When she pulled back, Melanie averted her gaze.

  “I thought I’d make meatless balls from the leftover lentils. Do spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. That okay with you?”

  “Perfect.” She took a step away. “I’ll tend to everything out here.” She walked off the porch, then looked up to the evening sky. “No rain tonight.”

  “No. I think—like summer—our rainy season is coming to an end. I’m going to miss it.”

  Erin turned around, trying to find Mel’s eyes in the shadows. She nodded. “I’ll miss it too.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The week seemed to fly by, yet at the same time, it was nearly endless. Endless, because for nearly every second of every day, Melanie found herself counting down the hours until Erin walked out of her life. It had been both a happy week and sad, even though they’d tried to put on brave faces. They didn’t talk about it. In fact, there’d been no words spoken about Erin’s impending departure since last week on the porch. Maybe they thought if they ignored it, the day would never come.

  Yet here it was. Tomorrow. And she supposed it was a fitting end…today. They hadn’t had rain in four days, had barely even had clouds in the sky. They’d taken hikes along the now wet and flowing Mule Creek. They’d even gone up to the hot springs one morning, packing lunch with them and having a picnic on the rocks. They’d done the bare minimum in the garden, choosing instead to spend their remaining time together—together being lazy or talking or making love. The garden, and her chores, would still be there after Erin left. Tomorrow.

  Today, though, another storm had blown in. So, yes, it was fitting, she thought. The skies had been as gray as her mood, dark rain clouds blanketing the bluff early that morning, like they planned to hang around a while. And they had. The rain had begun before they’d even cleaned up their breakfast dishes. The thunder alerted them that it would be a downpour and they’d scrambled to put things away and make sure the goats and chickens had taken cover. The rain had been relentless until noon, when it finally eased up, the thunder and lightning moving on past them.

  The rain had lightened up enough for Erin to make a run out to the shed to check on the chickens and the twins. Judging by how long she was gone—and the dark, shadowy look in her eyes when she returned—Melanie guessed she had been saying her private goodbyes to them.

  Goodbye.

  Damn, but she didn’t think it would be this hard. Three months ago, she assumed she’d be dancing for joy when this day came. Dancing for joy at the prospect of getting her solitude back, getting her space back. Now? Quite the opposite. The heavy rain clouds weighed on her, and the ache that had been growing all week was threatening to choke her, making it difficult to swallow. Difficult to breathe. She’d held herself together, though, forcing smiles and making lighthearted chitchat. Until she couldn’t.

  Erin was inside. Erin was inside packing—packing to leave—and Melanie simply couldn’t stand the sight of it. She wanted to run away, escape this pain…this pain that she didn’t know what to do with. She didn’t know where to put it, she didn’t know how to label it.

  They were friends. They’d become lovers. Nothing more. It was always going to be temporary. They both knew that. The closest they’d come to not making it temporary was Erin wondering if they’d keep in touch when she left.

  And no, they wouldn’t. She’d drive Erin to Silver City tomorrow morning. She’d drop her off under the cluster of pine trees that had been planted years ago, a spot that Erin had pointed out to her on one of their trips into town for shopping. Right there, she’d said. Right there was where her sister had dropped her off. That’s where Stella had picked her up. And that’s where Melanie would leave her tomorrow—right there.

  They would have already said their goodbyes before they got there. They would probably hug—one last time, one last look into eyes she would forever remember—then she’d get back in her truck and leave Erin standing there. She’d probably look in her rearview mirror a couple of times and… And by then, she’d most likely be crying.

  Without much thought, she walked out into the chilly rain, the last rain of summer, her feet moving faster and faster, taking her away from the cabin. She wrapped her arms around herself as she headed to the creek. The creek had always been a solace for her…a frie
nd. The sound of the creek was as familiar to her as her own breath. She stood at the edge, absently watching it flow past, the steady downpour from earlier turning the pristine water into a cloudy mess.

  And a cloudy mess was a good way to describe her feelings. A mess, for sure. She lifted her head up, relishing the sting of the rain as it hit her skin, letting it mix with her tears. Letting it wash the tears from her face. She could no longer stop them. She hung her head low, feeling sobs shake her shoulders.

  Erin hadn’t even left yet. How could she possibly feel this lonely? She knew loneliness. She knew how to handle it. But this? This seemed completely foreign to her. This seemed far worse than mere loneliness. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there. Long enough to be soaked to the bone, but not long enough for her tears to stop. Then arms wrapped around her from behind and her tears turned to sobs once again. She felt Erin bury her face against the back of her neck, and she squeezed her eyes against the pain. When Erin turned her around to face her, gathering her close, Mel clung to her, willing her tears to stop.

  Their kiss was urgent…fiery and passionate. As the rain fell harder, their kisses turned frenzied and they were grasping at the other, hands moving without thought, mouths locked in a hard kiss, tongues battling. They were both breathless when they pulled apart, their eyes clinging to one another as questions flew between them.

  Without a word, Erin took her hand and led her back to the cabin. They undressed in the bathroom, dropping their wet clothes on the floor. The warm water from the shower sent steam circling around them. Mel’s tears fell again, and Erin wiped them gently from her face.

  “Shhh,” Erin whispered.

  The kisses were slower now, gentler. Intense, yet sensuous. Tears forgotten, she drew Erin close, her fingers moving across wet skin, her palms pressing against taut nipples.

  They said nothing—because there was nothing to say.

  They said nothing—yet, with each kiss, each touch, they said plenty.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Melanie slowed her truck as they approached Stella’s house, then parked behind the Suburban that Erin had ridden in that very first day. She wanted to tell Stella goodbye, even though she’d said her formal goodbyes to everyone at the August dinner last week. The fact that she and Mel were lovers was now old news, apparently. Unlike the July dinner, not even Rebecca grilled her. Mel cut the engine but didn’t move to get out. She’d been unusually quiet this morning. Hell, they both had been.

  “Be right back,” she said as she opened the door. Stella must have heard them because she was standing at the screen door, waiting for her.

  “You’re heading out early, dear.” Stella came out onto the porch, holding a cup of coffee. “What time is your sister meeting you?”

  “Ten. She flew into Albuquerque last night. We have a four o’clock flight this afternoon, so…”

  “You’ll have a whirlwind of a day.” She looked past her, seeing Melanie in the truck waiting. “I won’t invite you in for coffee then.”

  “I wanted to thank you. For everything.” She smiled. “I know I wasn’t a poster child of what a perfect guest would be.”

  “Nonsense. We only had a few kinks to work out at the beginning.”

  “Yeah. I still feel bad about how things started off with Rachel.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Mel, though—she’s, she’s been the best. I don’t think I would have made it without her.”

  “Yes—the two of you seem to have bonded…Hmm?”

  The look in Stella’s eyes told her it wasn’t really a question. She nodded. “Yes. I’m going to miss her. A lot.”

  “Rachel owes you her life. Don’t feel bad about anything.” Stella drew her into a hug. “You know my phone number here. If you ever need…well, if you need to get a message to Mel or anything.”

  “Thanks. But…well, I don’t imagine we’ll…see each other again.”

  “I understand.” Stella squeezed both of her hands. “You look good, Erin. Whatever you’ve learned here from Melanie, I hope you take that with you.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned down and kissed the older woman on the cheek. “Take care, Stella.”

  She bounded off the porch and down the steps without another word. When she got in beside Melanie, they looked at each other but neither spoke. Melanie finally started up the engine and drove away.

  * * *

  After a nearly silent drive into Silver City, one broken only by the occasional comment about anything but the departure that awaited them, Erin felt the fingers of dread start to choke her as they approached town. How was she going to say goodbye to this woman? How? What could she possibly say to her?

  She glanced over at Melanie, finding Mel watching her. Mel moved her hand across the console and Erin’s took it, their fingers entwining naturally. They squeezed at the same time, drawing smiles from both of them. Still…they said nothing.

  When Melanie pulled up beside the circle of trees—the same place where Stella had picked her up three months prior—their hands were still folded together. Erin glanced around, wondering if Joyce had made it yet. It was still a few minutes before ten.

  “You going to stay? Meet my sister?”

  Melanie shook her head. “If you don’t mind…I’d rather not.” She cleared her throat and Erin wondered if Mel was trying to blink back her tears. “I’d rather be the one to leave first.”

  Erin nodded. “I understand.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, and she wondered who would speak first. They’d already said their goodbyes. Last night, this morning. They’d said their goodbyes with touches and kisses…not words. There weren’t any words that would make this easier so neither of them tried. Mel finally pulled her hand away and opened the door.

  They set her luggage on the curb, then they stood there, a good three feet apart, their gazes drawn together, then away, then back together again.

  “I…I feel like we should talk, but I don’t know what to say.”

  Melanie shook her head. “There’s nothing to say, Erin.”

  Erin nodded. “There is something, Mel. There is one thing I wish for. I wish you would forgive yourself for Adam’s death. Forgive. You don’t have to forget…but forgive.”

  Mel chewed on her lower lip nervously, but nodded. “Yes. I think…well, I think I already have.” She met her gaze, holding it. “And I wish…I wish for you to not ever change who you are. Don’t give up yourself for someone else. Don’t change for anyone, Erin. Be who you are. Show people who you are.”

  She watched as Melanie visibly swallowed before continuing, as if having trouble finding the words. “If they don’t love the real you, then they’re not worth your time. Let them go.”

  As their eyes held—five seconds, ten, longer—she saw so many things there. Things she wanted to memorize, things she wanted to be able to see on those lonely, dark nights that were coming. Then Mel stepped closer and they embraced tightly.

  “I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Erin murmured into her ear.

  “I know.” When Melanie pulled away, she wiped at a tear on her cheek. “It goes without saying that I’ll miss you.”

  Erin nodded. “I’ll miss you more.”

  Melanie smiled as she wiped another tear. “No, no. You won’t win this one. I’ll miss you more.” She took a step away, then another. “Take care of yourself, Erin.”

  “I will. You do the same.”

  Melanie backed up again and Erin could see the tears swimming in her eyes. “Goodbye, sweet Erin.”

  Erin took a deep breath, uttering the three hardest words she’d ever said. “Goodbye, my Mel.”

  She stood there on the curb, beside her forgotten luggage, tears streaming down both cheeks as she watched Melanie drive away. Away and out of her life.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Oh, my God! I didn’t even recognize you! What have you done with my sister?”
r />   Erin smiled as Joyce hugged her tightly. “I did what you said. I got healthy.”

  Joyce held her at arm’s length, still smiling. “Wow. You look…you look wonderful, Erin. I love your hair.”

  “Thanks.” She wiped at the corner of one eye, hoping that all evidence of her earlier tears was gone. She would never be able to explain that to Joyce.

  “Like I’m looking at a ghost,” Joyce continued.

  Erin raised her eyebrows.

  “A good ghost,” she clarified. “You look like…well, like you did when you were younger. Jeans, T-shirt. Relaxed. I like it. You look like you.” Joyce went to pick up one of her bags. “Let’s blow this joint, huh? Get you back home where you belong.”

  Erin turned, looking around the parking lot, half expecting—hoping—to see Mel’s truck speeding back toward her. But no. Mel was gone. And soon, too, so would she be. Gone.

  “Come on, Erin. Got a flight to catch.”

  She took a deep breath, wondering at the emptiness she felt. Wondering if it would follow her back to Houston.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  She stared at the clothes that were all hung so neatly in her closet. Power suits. Black ones and gray ones and a few navy ones mixed in for good measure. There must have been twenty or more. And then there were the matching blouses. Two whole racks of them. She walked deeper into the closet, eyeing the shoe rack. God, had she actually worn those? Her feet hurt just thinking about it.

  With a sigh, she pulled one of the suits out. She held it up, staring at it, trying to picture herself wearing it. Charcoal gray. Sarah would tell her to wear a white blouse with it or perhaps a blue one. She dropped it onto the floor and pulled another one out, this time black. She had countless blouses that would go with it. But it too ended up on the floor.