Protecting Rayne

by Emily Bishop

  “They call me Mama Kate,” she replied. “But you already know that.”

  “How—?”

  “Boy, why else would you be out here in the middle of the storm if you weren’t lookin’ for me? Use your brains.” Kate crooked a finger. “Come now. I have a fire and food at the camp, and we can talk about what you need.”

  “I don’t have time. I don’t—”

  “She won’t go far before you find her, Tombs,” Mama Kate said. “The universe won’t allow it, you mark my words. Now come.”

  I hesitated. I’d never been good with this type of stuff, and a couple weeks ago, before meeting Aurora, I’d probably have laughed if I’d been told I’d wind up in this situation, in a dark forest with a mysterious, magical lady leading me deeper into the trees, but now? I had to know what she did, or I’d lose the one woman I truly loved.

  “Come now. I don’t have all day for your love problems.” Mama Kate set off at a blistering pace, much too fast for an old woman in a skirt with hips that wide.

  I hurried after her, the flashlight’s beam slicing through the gloom, illuminating grass then bark then the undersides of the leaves. I gave it up for a bad job and switched off the app.

  Five minutes of walking and finally, we entered a clearing. Rain pattered down from the heavens, but Mama Kate beckoned to me and led me into a large tent, the center of which held a small portable stove, a fire warm in the grate.

  “Sit,” she said and dragged a camping chair toward the stove. “Sit and warm your hands. You’re shivering.”

  I did as I was told and scanned the interior. It was small but well lit. Candles sat atop a side table against one canvas wall, and next to it, a camping cot piled with neatly folded blankets and a few flowery cushions provided a touch of femininity. Crystals and books, haphazardly stacked, lined the shelves of a bookcase near the entrance.

  “Coffee?” Mama Kate asked and lifted a camping kettle. “Tea?”

  “No, thank you. I came for information. Aurora—”

  “Oh, you’re a hasty boy, I see. I told you I have the information you need, and I told you the universe won’t let her go far from Moondance. You two are intertwined now. The minute you bedded her, you wound your fates together.”

  Jesus Christ. This was too much. “Look, if you don’t know where she is, I’m wasting my time here. I should go.” The spatter of raindrops on the tent’s roof increased in intensity. It was a rush of noise, now. It reminded me of an audience’s applause, albeit mocking.

  Mama Kate raised one gray eyebrow. “Both of you are stubborn,” she said and put down the kettle. “I’ll tell you which way she went, Tombs, but only after I have a promise from you.”

  “A promise?”

  “That you’ll be good to her. That girl has been through enough,” she said. “All she’s ever wanted is a home and love, and all she’s ever gotten is transience and rejection.”

  “Big word,” I said.

  “It means change.”

  “I know what it means,” I replied.

  “Then shut your trap and listen.” Mama Kate settled into another of the camping chairs, and it creaked beneath her bulk. “I want that promise from you, or I won’t tell you where she’s gone. And the promise will come with a spell. You hurt her, and I put a curse on you.”

  “What?”

  “You heard it right. I curse you, so your balls shrivel right up inside your body and never come down again.”

  “Jesus H. Christ,” I said. “That’s a little farfetched. And you don’t have to threaten me to get your point across. I would never hurt Aurora, not intentionally, I can make that promise, right now.”

  “It’s not good enough,” Mama Kate said. “And you don’t know enough to make that promise yet.”

  “What am I missing here?” I asked. “I love her, and you seem to know that. I’ve made the promise. Now tell me where she went.” The last part came out in a growl.

  Mama Kate reached over and patted my cheek. “Such a pretty face. You got anything between those eyes? Listen to what I have to say.”

  I kept my mouth shut. If I didn’t, I’d snap at her and never get the information I needed.

  “Good, see? You can control your temper. Now, what you’ve got to know about Aurora is all she wants is a home. And a baby.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “Oh, relax, she’s not going to trap you into anything. Why else would she have run?” Mama Kate rolled her eyes. “You slap a penis on a human and all of a sudden he’s allergic to children. Lord help the world. Now, listen. Her mother, Libby, did her best for that girl, but I can’t say I agree with all her choices.” Kate sniffed. “She should’ve settled down long before she came to Moondance, but it wasn’t none of my business. After she died, Aurora lost it all. Lost the love of family, and the care of the people here.”

  “I know.”

  “Aurora needs a family and a home like she needs to breathe. She won’t let it happen because she thinks her momma’s death is her fault. Libby jumped in front of a car and pushed her out of the way. She died to save her baby.”

  I swallowed. I knew parts of this, but it was still hard to hear the second time around.

  “That’s why I’m telling you, if you’re going to go after the girl, it can’t be because you like the way she moans between the sheets.”

  My cheeks grew hot. “That’s not—no, that’s not why.”

  “You got to want more with her. A family. A home. That’s what she deserves, and if you can’t promise me that you’ll give her that, I’m not telling you where she went. Simple as a pimple on an ass cheek.”

  The analogy threw me off for a second.

  “Well?” Mama Kate asked. “What do you say?”

  I pictured my Aurora, standing here, in her long skirt, her loose shirt and that soft smile on her lips, the ones that’d been red from my kisses. Her long curls falling to her shoulders, her palms cupping a rose quartz crystal as she told me all about its meaning, eyes alight. She was precious to me, perfect in the sway of her hips and that cheeky attitude.

  I took a breath. “Yes,” I said. “I promise.”

  Chapter 28

  Aurora

  Raindrops splatted against the windshield, and I turned on the wipers, smearing the water away. I’d already switched on the high beams but it didn’t help too much. The road was wet, and it was another couple miles till I hit the freeway.

  Mistress sat in the passenger seat, no belt since she yowled at me every time I tried putting it on her. Her ears were pricked up, and her yellow eyes focused on the bobblehead figure of a hula girl on my dashboard.

  My kitty was used to traveling, by now, but she was pretty quiet for a change. Usually, she’d meow or purr, wash herself, wander around in the back for a while. The unusual behavior set off another cluster of thoughts, all centered on doubt.

  Am I doing the right thing?

  What if I’ve lost the one person I’m meant to be with?

  Would Mom have run away like this? Or would she have stayed and fought?

  Mom? Mom who dove in front of a moving car to save my life? No, my mom wouldn’t have run away from anything. She’d have faced it head on. That in itself brought more shame to me than I could handle.

  No, I wasn’t just running for me. It was for Jarryd, too. I’d complicated his life and career.

  He couldn’t possibly produce Pride’s Death with Felicity as the star with all my drama hovering in the background. It would ruin all his planning, all his work.

  Sell out. That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’re scared, that’s all this is about. You’re a god damn coward.

  I slowed and scanned the signs on the side of the road. “There was a shortcut here,” I said. “Right here. A dirt road we can take that will get us on the freeway, quicker, Mistress. What do you say?”

  Mistress flicked her tail. Apparently, she didn’t agree with the choice.

  I pumped the gas and the RV lurched. The lights flickered. �
��What the –?”

  This time, my cat did meow, and it was more of a yowl than anything else.

  “What now?” I muttered and inched my foot forward on the accelerator, changed gears. The engine grated, and sputtered, clicked, turned over, and fucking died. The RV cruised along, carried forward by momentum, and I steered it onto the verge.

  “Oh, god,” I said. “Oh, shit. This was exactly what I needed.” I pulled up the handbrake then cut the RV’s headlights and rested my forehead against the wheel.

  I was trapped on the road out of Moondance, in the middle of a storm. Rain poured down on top of the roof, splashed the windscreen.

  I tapped my palms on the wheel, choking back tears. It wasn’t enough that I’d made the decision to leave, the universe had to taunt me one last time. All I wanted was to get away, and I couldn’t even do that right.

  Now I was at the mercy of the elements and any stranger who might drive past and decide, “Hey, that’s a great RV. Why don’t I steal it?”

  “Ugh, don’t think like that,” I said. “It doesn’t help. Everything’s fine. We’ll figure this out.”

  Mistress hopped off the passenger seat and meandered off. Sorry, bitch, you’re all on your own.

  “Classy,” I called after her. “Real classy.” I cut the cab lights then sat there, listening to the torrential downpour, the roar of it above my head. I sat back and shut my eyes, and immediately, Jarryd rose from the depths of my memories.

  Naked Jarryd, with the sheet around his waist, his abs defined, glistening with sweat after one of our sessions together. His smile was lopsided, his nose still adorably crooked in one spot, and those eyes—they bored into my soul, right through the past to the present, crystal blue and seeking me.

  I sat upright and focused on the present again, opened my lids, shook off the heartache that wouldn’t come loose. “No,” I said. “You’re not going to dwell on him. Not now.”

  And the only way to keep my thoughts free of him would be to take action.

  I got up then walked through to the kitchen area, past, to the bedroom. I fumbled through my closet, brought out a rainslicker and slipped it on. The arms were worn from use—this had been my mother’s—and the yellow was faded. but it would do the job.

  Mistress had already perched on my pillow to wait out the storm. Or perhaps, she’d given up on me at last.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said then trundled back toward the side door of the RV. It wasn’t as if I had the tools or the will to figure out what had gone wrong with the engine, but I had to take a look.

  The RV hadn’t broken down before but I had been a little lax with maintenance since I’d arrived in Moondance. I’d been lax with everything thanks to—

  “Nope. Don’t think it. Don’t.” I inhaled then opened the door and hopped down onto the side of the road. My flat-soled pumps splashed in a puddle, and I cursed under my breath. The rain slammed into the hood of my slicker and flattened it against my skull.

  This wasn’t rain, it was a friggin’ downpour.

  I slipped and slid my way toward the front of the RV then fiddled with the little clip that opened the flat front of the hood. It clicked, and I did a mini-victory dance. First step of the futile mission completed.

  I heaved the flat hood up, hooked it into place then peered at the engine, still hot and ticking from the ride. I squinted into the dark compartment but there wasn’t enough light to see much, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to risk my cell phone in this. It wasn’t one of those fancy waterproof models.

  “Well,” I said, loudly, over the rain. “This was a good idea. Second best idea I’ve had all week.”

  I fumbled with the catch on the side of the hood, shaking my head at myself. What had I expected? No flashlight, no rubber boots, no experience fixing engines, and now, the damn hood wouldn’t come down.

  I grunted and strained, poking at the hook that held the thing upright. “God damn!” I yelled. “God damn it all! Bitch. Shit! Motherfucker!” Man, that felt horribly good. The screaming, not the scraping my finger against the hook a billion times. “Bastard! Bitch!” I shook my fists at the rainclouds and jumped up and down on the spot, throwing a mini-tantrum. “Do you think this is it?” I yelled. “I’m not going to take this lying down. I’m trying to run away and I’m going to damn well run the fuck away, whether you like it or not.”

  The clouds, of course, didn’t reply, other than to increase the pressure of rain. Lightning arced through the darkness, splitting, chaining, and was followed by a crack of thunder so loud it almost split my skull in two.

  I shrieked and bumped the hood of the RV. It slapped into place, at last.

  “Well, thank you for that.”

  Lights flashed in the darkness and I winced, awaited the second crack of thunder but no, this wasn’t from above. These were… “Headlights!” I yelled.

  Two of them approaching from Moondance’s side of the road. I rushed out, slipped, fell on my ass in a puddle then grunted and struggled upright. I stood in the middle of the road and waved my arms above my head.

  The car trundled closer, slowed to a stop.

  My joy drained away.

  It was a Porsche 911. Luke’s Porsche.

  I crossed my fingers—god, if Jarryd was in there, I wouldn’t have the willpower to tell him to leave.

  The driver’s door opened, the lights in the cab came on and revealed… Luke. The passenger’s side was empty.

  Relief didn’t wash over me. My heart sank.

  “Well, hello there,” Luke said. “Car trouble?”

  “Yeah. You don’t happen to have an RV engine in there, do you?” I asked.

  “Sorry, I left it in my other pair of pants. Hold on a sec,” he said then got back in the Porsche and started the engine again. It purred, and he cruised over to the side of the road and parked in front of my RV.

  I walked over to him, feet heavy as lead, and water seeping through to the seat of my skirt. God, I’d need a shower after this.

  Luke got out of the car and shut the door.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Let’s talk inside,” he yelled, over the downpour. Already, his hair was plastered to his head, and his glasses were speckled with droplets. “Before I drown.”

  “Right.” I led him back to the RV’s entrance then up the stairs and to the kitchen table. I stripped off my slicker and hung it on the hook at the back of the door and slammed it shut, cut out the roar of rain.

  Luke sat down and removed his glasses, wiping them on his shirt. “Shit, that doesn’t help. Like trying to dry a wet cloth with water.”

  I fetched him a paper towel then sat down opposite him, squelching on the padding of the bench. “What are you doing out here?” I asked.

  “I could ask you the same question,” he replied and dried his glasses on the towel. He crumpled it up after and left it on the surface then rammed his glasses onto his face. “Ah, that’s better, thanks.”

  “I had to leave, after—you know. You must know. Everyone else does.”

  “I heard,” Luke replied. “But you shouldn’t take the press seriously. And you certainly shouldn’t let Felicity get to you. She’s a bully. If you stand up to her, she’ll deflate like a pricked balloon.” He ran fingers through his hair and sluiced water onto his shirt.

  “Shit, do you need a towel?”

  “No, I’m good,” he said.

  I nodded, bit my lip. It took every ounce of my self-control not to ask him how Jarryd felt about all of this. How he’d fared with the knowledge that I was gone, and I wouldn’t come back. “So, I know why I left,” I said. “Why did you leave? You’re the last person I expected to run into out here.”

  “Well,” he said, “I figured it was high time I got out of there. I’m done with Pride’s Death.”

  “What? But Jarryd might need you!”

  “I have a feeling he won’t,” Luke replied. “He fired Felicity, and that means there’s another media storm coming. She won�
��t take it lying down.”

  “I thought she deflated if your pricked her,” I replied.

  “Sure, but there’s a difference between that and work. She’s got a contract. She’ll probably try to sue him for it.”

  I knuckled my forehead and gulped. “I feel like this is all my fault. If I’d stayed away from him, none of this would have happened.”

  “Yeah, well, if ifs and buts were donuts, I’d be much happier. And much fatter. Relax, Aurora. You didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t say that Jarryd did anything wrong either. He seems to care for you, a lot.”

  “Don’t say that,” I muttered and looked down at my hands in my lap. I twisted my fingers together and squeezed.

  “You know, running away won’t solve anything,” Luke said.

  “You’re only the third person who’s told me that today.”

  “Third time’s a charm, I believe the saying goes. But I’m serious. If Jarryd wants you, he’ll find you, and he’ll do his best to make you his. He’s never been good with letting go,” Luke replied. “He’s the type of guy who gets what he wants.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he wants. It matters what he needs, and that’s stability so he can do his thing. How is he supposed to function with me in his life? People will spread rumors constantly, they’ll try to ruin his career.”

  Luke shrugged. “It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. You think it was easy for him when he broke up with Felicity? That shit was all over the papers. Speculation, rumors, bullshit stories. He’s had it all.”

  “I haven’t,” I said.

  “No, you haven’t.” Luke conceded that point. “Now, maybe we should change the subject here. You need help with your engine, and I’m one of those guys who owns a sports car but knows nothing about how it works. I’m cool like that.”

  “Oh,” I said and couldn’t keep the disappointment from my tone. “That’s OK. I—you can leave, I don’t want to keep you from your trip.”

  “Don’t be a dumbass,” he said and drew his cell out of his pocket. He swiped his thumb across the screen then typed.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I know someone who can help you with your situation. I’m going to shoot off a text then stick around until they arrive.”