Cathy, interpreting Emily's reaction as one of incredulity, exclaimed passionately that the story was true. "They say she's rich and does stuff in magazines, but she must be awful strange. Imagine not wanting to marry Rain Storm and live on that beautiful farm."
Emily was about to say something about it being the twenty-first century, when women didn't think marriage and babies were the be-all and end-all of existence, but she couldn't find the energy. As a matter of fact, she felt exhausted by the story and was relieved when a group of teenagers came into the diner and Cathy excused herself to serve them.
Emily stared at the almost-cold bowl of soup in front of her, feeling no appetite. She pulled out her wallet and left money for the soup and coffee along with a generous tip on the table. She exited by the parking lot door, with Cathy calling after her to have a nice trip. Emily wondered how the waitress would react if she told her who she really was.
* * *
Rain was at the point when he'd have to decide whether to make this his last beer so he could legally drive home or have another (or two or three) and stay at the hotel for the night. He could call the neighbour's son to do the evening chores; the boy was always glad for a bit of extra pocket money. He was favouring the latter idea, all the stresses of the last few days making getting drunk an attractive idea, when a bottle of beer placed on the rail in front of him decided the issue for him.
He turned to see Cathy, the waitress from the Five Star Diner, grinning like the cat that had eaten the canary. "Thanks," he said. "I'll get the next one." He was fully aware how he affected the women of the village. It didn't inflate his ego; it was just a fact. And he had a cardinal rule: stay out of their beds. He treated them all with brotherly respect and did nothing to encourage their advances. It was a wise course of action, also ensuring that he didn't end up in trouble with a possessive husband or boyfriend or a protective father.
"Get off early today?" he asked politely.
"Ya, it was pretty quiet. No tourists anymore." She took a sip of beer. "There was one woman though. She was asking about you." Rain watched the cat-that-ate-the-canary look deepen.
"And what did she want to know?" he said without much curiosity.
"Just who you were. She saw you from the window."
"And what did you tell her?" Rain realized Cathy wasn’t referring to someone she knew.
"Oh, nothing,” she said, while her expression told another story.
Rain took a sip of beer to hide his smile. No doubt she had told this mysterious woman his life story – or at least the story as the villagers knew it, which he assumed was highly embellished. In fact, with the village’s love of gossip, Rain found it surprising that Emily's return had escaped notice. Suddenly, he thought he knew who Cathy's stranger was. Who else could it be?
"You should have seen her car," Cathy added, confirming Rain's suspicions. He wondered how much Cathy had said.
"Well, I certainly hope you didn't give any bill collectors directions to my house."
A look of horror crossed Cathy's face, compelling Rain to add "Just joking" before politely extracting himself from her company with the excuse that he had farm chores to do. She was clearly disappointed but smiled cheerfully. On his way out, Rain left his barely touched beer at the bar and paid for another one to be sent to Cathy.
He had lost the heart for drinking and only wanted to be back in the seclusion of his own cabin. He drove home, parked the truck in the drive next to Emily’s car, and, after doing the barn chores, walked to the cabin, where the red light flashed impatiently on his answering machine. He took off his boots and jacket before hitting the play button.
“Hi. It’s Jennifer....” Damn, he thought as soon as he heard her cheerful voice. Dinner. They were supposed to be joining friends for dinner that night. They had made these plans only a few days before, but so much had happened since then, it seemed a lifetime ago. “Could you please pick up a bottle of wine on your way into town?” the message continued. “See you soon.”
Rain glanced at his watch. He wasn’t late. He still had time for a shower, and he could save time by bringing a bottle from home rather than stopping for one at the liquor store. He showered and changed into clean jeans and a cream flannel shirt, all the while thinking guiltily how much he’d prefer to stay home. He grabbed his Harris tweed jacket from the closet and the best bottle of wine from the wine rack before hurrying out the door and almost colliding with Emily as he rounded the corner of the house.
It was hard to say who was more surprised, both uttering a startled sound as they jumped back. They looked at each other for a moment, Rain wishing he could spend the evening in front of the fireplace with Emily instead of having dinner with Jennifer, while Emily thought about how sexy he looked in his tweed jacket, his damp hair like gold in the dying light. The silence between them seemed awkward, with Emily breaking it first.
“Going out?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound too disappointed.
“I’m having dinner with my girlfriend,” he said, surprising himself with his choice of words. He felt confused and embarrassed and anxious to get away. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to get going. I’m late.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you,” she said, stepping out of his way. She hoped her voice didn’t betray her shock at the word girlfriend.
He passed by her with a muttered goodbye, and Emily watched him disappear among the trees with a sharp splinter of something in her heart that could only be jealousy.
Emily knew she’d felt strangely satisfied with Cathy’s version of events that afternoon. It had been good for her ego to hear that Rain was still carrying a torch for her. But of course he’d have a girlfriend. How could he not? He was good-looking, sexy beyond belief, well-spoken.... She forced herself to stop thinking along these lines. It was her intention to leave the village as soon as possible. But as she switched on her flashlight to light her way back through the woods, she knew she had walked this way with hopes of seeing him. She’d even thought she might tell him after all what had happened at the lawyers that day. He’d probably be pretty happy to hear that she was giving up the fight, that the whole farm, even her share, now belonged solely to him, no strings attached.
You can’t go home again.
At least she couldn’t – she’d proved that this morning when she had fled from his kisses. And now there was a girlfriend. There was reason to fear being hurt, because if she wasn’t careful, there was a damn good chance it was going to happen. Anyway, what was he doing trying to kiss her when he already had a girlfriend?
The only thing to do was to make a clean break, to get away before it was too late. She removed her coat and boots at the kitchen door, went to the cupboard, and poured a drink.
If it wasn’t already too late.
* * *
Rain drove down the highway with a sinking heart. He knew he was in over his head. Why had he told Emily he was off to see his girlfriend when he didn't have one?
It was true Jennifer was his friend, but that was as far as it went. Jennifer was married to her work and wanted to keep her personal life as uncluttered as possible. She knew of Emily's existence and was perhaps even more aware than Rain of how much a hold Emily still had over him.
Jennifer was an attractive woman, beautiful really, with long dark hair, intelligent blue eyes, and a quick warm smile. But the smile she was wearing when she opened the front door faded instantly on seeing Rain. “What’s the matter, Ray?” she asked as she led him into the living room. A fire burned brightly in the fireplace, giving the room a cozy glow. With its fresh flowers, comfortable furniture, and warm colours, Rain had always found Jennifer’s house to be as comforting as her personality, and he felt happy to be able to confide in her now.
Still standing, he looked at her and said very quietly, “Emily’s back.”
She looked at him for a moment, the worried look in her eyes changing to sympathy. “I think we’d better sit down and open that bottle of wine. I’ll get the cork
screw and glasses.”
Rain removed his jacket and settled himself into the chintz‑covered sofa. Jennifer returned and opened the bottle, pouring two generous glasses before settling into the armchair across from him. "Okay, so what's the scoop?"
Resisting the urge to drink the whole glass in one courage‑giving gulp, he took a sip and placed it back on the table. “She came back to sell the farm. I think she’s got a developer who’s interested in it.”
“But she can’t,” Jennifer protested. “It’s half yours.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t know. She was furious when I told her, and she fired me on the spot.”
“She didn’t!” Jennifer said indignantly, ever more incredulous that Ray could still have feelings for this woman, who, from everything Jennifer had ever heard, didn’t deserve the love of someone like him.
“She backed down on that, for now anyway. And I think she’s accepted that the land will be divided. After that, I don’t know. She seems as angry as ever, still obsessed with her mother’s death and her own need to be successful. And,” he paused to take another sip of wine, “I think she still hates me.” He smiled ruefully. “And I don’t think she even knows the whole story.”
“You’ve got to tell her someday,” Jennifer said simply.
He thought back to his meeting with Emily on the path to the cabin. She hadn’t seemed angry. In fact, she seemed to be glad to see him. It was unlikely Cathy had said anything.
“Yes, I know. I keep thinking there’ll be a good time.” He sighed. “And you’re right. After everything’s that happened, I still have feelings for her. I only wish she felt the same way.”
They didn’t speak for a few minutes, and Rain became acutely aware of the sounds around them: the ticking of the clock on the mantle, the crackle of the fire, a dog barking somewhere in the night, the sound of his own heart.
“Well,” Jennifer said at last. “I wish I knew what to say. I'm tempted to tell you to get on with your life, but I know that doesn't help. I'm not good at these matters of the heart – I’m much too practical." She tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder. "Do you want out of dinner tonight? It’s okay. I'll make up some excuse for you."
"Thank you," he said gratefully. "I'm not really up to going out tonight. And," he said taking another sip from his glass, "thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder."
Jennifer got up and, going to the fireplace, stirred the fire with the poker. "Are we still on for tomorrow though? It's an important night for you, and I want to be there."
"Of course. I asked Emily, and she accepted. She doesn't know what the occasion is though."
Jennifer smiled. "Are you playing games with her, Ray?"
"I think she asked for this one." He smiled, and Jennifer couldn't help but admire her friend's handsome looks. "She's going to think you're my girlfriend too."
"Ray Storm!" Jennifer said with mock sternness as she shook the poker at him. "I don't know what you're playing at, but you're going to owe me big time!"
Rain laughed as he got up. Pulling on his jacket, he went to the front door. Jennifer put down the poker and followed him. "I should let you get to dinner," he said, feeling depressed again. "Thanks for covering for me.”
"No problem. I'll see you tomorrow night." She opened the door, and Rain kissed her lightly on the cheek before stepping out onto the porch. "I've told you this before, Ray,” she said. "But I can think of a dozen smart, beautiful women who would love a chance to go out with you. And those are only the ones I know personally.”
"I know, Jennifer," he said. "Good night."
"Good night, and take care of yourself. I don’t want to see you hurt again,” she said, closing the door softly behind him.
Rain sat in his truck for awhile before driving to a nearby hotel. Maybe it was a good idea to get drunk after all. He wished he still smoked. He checked in for the night before going to the hotel bar and ordering a double scotch. Except for a couple who were holding hands and gazing into each other s eyes across their candlelit table, the bar was empty. The bartender put on some music, and Tom Waits began to sing a song of lost love that echoed the despair Rain felt.
What was he doing?
Jennifer was right. He really should get on with his life, find a good woman, and settle down, as they say. The problem was that Emily was the only woman he could ever love.
He was in for a long, lonely life.
Chapter 5
Emily woke the next morning to the sound of rain beating on the roof of the farmhouse. The anticipated storm had arrived.
It was still early, but Emily wanted to be fully awake when Jonathon arrived. After pulling on jeans, sweatshirt, and wool socks, she went to the bedroom window just in time to see Rain’s truck pulling into the driveway. Concluding that he must have been at his girlfriend’s all night, she again felt the stab of jealousy. Forcing herself away from the window, she went into the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth. So what if Rain spent all night at his girlfriend’s? This time tomorrow she’d be on her way back to Toronto, never to return. She dragged the comb through her unruly hair and tried to convince herself this was a good thing.
In the kitchen, she put on coffee and turned on the radio just in time to hear the weather report. “Hurricane Norman has made its way up the Eastern Seaboard of the United States overnight, striking Canada’s Atlantic provinces this morning,” the male forecaster said in one of those voices reserved for serious events. “Winds upwards of 180 kilometres an hour have been reported, with gusts of over 200 kilometres. These speeds are much higher than earlier forecast.
“Evacuation efforts have been underway since early yesterday in many areas along the coastline. High winds and heavy rains are being blamed for flooding and power outages in many areas. A Halifax man is reported to be in critical condition after a tree fell on his car. Several other minor injuries have been reported.” There was a pause, during which the murmuring of voices and the rustling of paper could be heard.
“This just in,” the forecaster continued at last. “In a double whammy, the National Hurricane Centre reports that a second equally strong storm is moving across the Atlantic and is expected to hit Newfoundland by early evening. One ship is reported to be caught in the path of the incoming storm. The effects of the current storm in the form of heavy winds and rains are being felt right into central Ontario. A weather advisory is in effect until tomorrow morning at 6 a.m. Strong caution is urged.”
Emily piled paper, kindling, and a couple of small logs in the wood stove and lit it with a match. She went to the electric stove and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was strong and good. Dragging a chair closer to the wood stove, she pulled down the oven door and used it as a footrest. She found herself oddly content to be sitting in this dreary but warm kitchen with the radio playing bad pop tunes and the rain drumming on the roof and streaming down the windows. The news of the storm didn’t frighten her. This was Canada after all – extremes in weather were nothing new.
The kitchen was a single story wing that had been added to the house as a summer kitchen. In her mind, Emily tore out the cracked plastered ceiling and pictured its new ceiling as the underside of the peaked roof. Finished in pine and painted white, the room would appear much bigger and brighter. And more windows, Emily thought. Take out the little ones and put a row of French doors facing the hillside, which could be turned into a lovely garden in the summer. She looked at the cracked linoleum floors and replaced them with broad planks of gleaming golden wood, modernized the appliances and cupboards with a glance, and in place of the old cook stove installed a bright enamel wood stove with glass doors. What a difference, Emily thought, admiring her work in her mind's eye. It would be light and airy in the hot summer months and, with its bright fire, cozy in the winter.
Her mother would have liked the changes she proposed. She had always wanted to modernize the kitchen, but the demands of the farm and the chronic lack of funds meant she’d had to content herself wi
th a fresh paint job come spring.
As a child, Emily had spent a lot of time in this kitchen. She remembered cold, dark winter mornings eating piping hot bowls of porridge laced with fragrant cinnamon, listening to the weather reports on the radio, and cheering with Rain when a snowstorm meant the school bus wasn’t running. Long after Rain had graduated from high school, he had still cheered, because it meant they had the whole day to spend together. On those mornings, she and Rain would go to the barn and help her father with the chores, their breath white clouds of steam in the cold morning air. After chores, the day would be theirs to do with what they pleased. They often tobogganed down the hill behind the house, coming in caked with snow and anticipating cups of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. It didn’t matter that first Rain and then she became “too old” for such fun – it seemed then they could never grow out of such simple pleasures. On these snowy afternoons, she and Rain would pop a bowl of popcorn and play Monopoly or Scrabble. Somehow always ending in a tie, these were lively games that were more cooperative than competitive. They would help with the afternoon chores as well, taking time out to have a hay fight in the loft. And then dinner, all of them seated around the kitchen table, her father, mother, Rain, herself – wonderful, homey affairs full of the day’s news.
Those were happy times, she sighed. She hadn’t let herself think of them for a long time, because when her mother died, it all changed. Her father and Rain tried to keep a sense of normalcy, but she refused, moving through the days in an angry fog of resentment, any pleasure a betrayal of her mother.
* * *
Jonathon's black Jaguar pulled into the drive as Emily was having her third cup of coffee. He parked it next to Emily's car and ran as fast as he could to the house. Emily held the door open for him, thinking how in just a few days he seemed like someone from another world, a world that was rapidly becoming a foggy memory.
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