Falling for Rain (13 page)

“I’ll never use that expression lightly again,” Emily said earnestly. “But when did her husband get back?”

 “Not so fast,” Rain said. “Just when it looked absolutely hopeless, a Mohawk man came across the burnt-out cabin. He found Emily and the baby in the root cellar almost unconscious from hunger and exposure. From diary entries made sometime later, we learn that your grandmother initially thought the Native man was her husband, Michael. He stayed with them until spring, cooking and caring for them."

Rain suddenly braked as they crested a hill. He pulled to the shoulder of the road, and Emily looked with dismay at the scene before them. In the beam of the headlights it was possible to see that the creek, which normally flowed calmly under the road, had swollen its banks and was now rushing over the road.

 “Now what?” she wondered aloud.

 “Well, that depends on how much you like your car,” Rain said with a mischievous grin that made Emily’s heart miss a beat or two. “Do you know if this thing floats?”

 “We should have brought the truck, you mean.”  She really hated the idea of having to turn back. She was having such a good time. She no longer cared if they made it to the restaurant. She was quite happy sitting with Rain in the car on the side of the road.

They watched as an approaching vehicle, not much bigger than Emily’s, drove slowly through the rushing water without mishap. The water wasn’t as deep as it appeared. “Go for it,” Emily pronounced confidently.

 “Okay,” he said. “The biggest danger appears to be splashing water into the engine and stalling it. I’ll drive slowly.” He pulled back onto the road and steered the car successfully through the section of flooded road.

Realizing she’d been holding her breath, Emily sighed in relief.  “Good work.”

“Thanks, Boss,” he replied without sarcasm. He glanced over at Emily and was rewarded with a spontaneous smile that was, to him, like watching the sun come out. He hoped she wasn’t going to be too annoyed when they got to the restaurant. He did owe her one, it was true. But at this point maybe it was best just to forget the slight and come clean with her.

“So what happened next?” said Emily, interrupting his thoughts.

“Where was I?” he said, feeling distracted.

“Emily had just been rescued,” Emily recapped. “What was the Native man’s name?”

“His English name was Gabriel,” Rain said picking up the thread of his story. “He lived on a nearby reserve, a tract of land that had been granted to the Mohawks by the English in exchange for their support during the American Revolution. It’s is about forty miles from here, which means Gabriel was a long way from home. But his Native name meant
to wander far,
and he later told Emily that he had wandered all his life so that he might find her and save her. Incidentally, it had been Gabriel who had come by the winter before with food for Emily and her husband.

“That spring Gabriel returned to his home, and Emily rebuilt the cabin with the help of her neighbours. That cabin is the one I live in now. It was at this time she learned from people in the village that her husband had returned, but, finding the cabin burned down and his wife and child missing, had assumed the worst and left again to parts unknown. The residents of the village, not knowing Emily’s plight, were unable to enlighten him. This was the first they’d known of a fire. Remember, it was winter, and her closest neighbour was more than five miles away. It would seem they were unaware Michael had left his family to fend for themselves in the first place.”

The car crested another hill, and the lights of town came into view. “There was a lot more that the neighbours didn’t know, but we’re almost there. So the rest of the story will have to keep for another time.”

Emily was disappointed. “At least tell me when Michael came back. He
must
have come back at some point. After all, he’s buried behind the Blue Church.”

“No, that’s where you’re wrong. That’s a whole other story. His name is on the stone, placed there by Emily when she learned of her husband’s death. Michael’s body is actually buried in Churchill Falls where he died. You see, while Michael Alexander may be your great-great-great-great grandmother’s husband and the man to
which
Maple Tree Farm was granted, the love story belongs to Emily and Gabriel.”

 
“They fell in love
?”  Emily asked in surprise.

 
“Very much.
He returned to Maple Tree Farm every winter for the next fifty two years.”

 “Wow,” she murmured.  “What an incredible story.”

Rain turned onto the main downtown street of the town, really a small city. It was a pretty road, lined with handsome nineteenth-century limestone buildings. Since few people were out on such a miserable night, Rain was able to park close to the restaurant.

"You'll have to read the book," he said as he turned off the car.

"I’d love to read it. Do you have a copy?"

"Not yet, but I'll get you one," he promised as he opened the car door. He ran around to Emily’s side, putting up the umbrella as he went. She stood close beside him under the umbrella, her arm pressed against his, and they walked the short distance to the restaurant.

The restaurant was reached through a courtyard surrounded by stone buildings. Converted from a nineteenth-century carriage house, it had an old-world charm. In the reception area, a cheerful fire warded off the damp night. The main floor was a cozy bar, while up the stairs could be glimpsed an intimate dining area. 

"Ray!" said the woman behind the reception desk enthusiastically as Rain helped Emily with her coat.
“Wonderful to see you.
Especially on such a miserable night.
Isn’t it horrible?”

“Not my favourite weather,” said Rain. “And how are you?”

“Oh, you know me – irrepressible! Come on, your table is waiting." A waiter coming down the stairs also greeted him by name, giving Emily the impression that he was well known in this stylish restaurant.

But nothing prepared Emily for what was to happen next. Instead of taking them to a table for two, the hostess led them to a table where five other people already waited. And while Emily was trying to adjust to the surprise of seeing other people, the group stood up and
started to applaud.

Chapter 6

Emily looked up at Rain for an answer, but he seemed to have forgotten her. Everyone was congratulating and hugging him.
What’s going on?
One thing was for sure – Rain had pulled a fast one on her.

Finally, he introduced her to the group. “This is Emily,” he said, then pointed out in turn, “and this is Jennifer, Sandra, Ivan, Robert, and
Sergi
.” Emily fought back her rising anger, put on her best smile, and shook hands with everyone.

Rain pulled out a chair for her, and she found herself seated next to Ivan and across from Sandra. Rain sat at the head of the table with Jennifer on his right and
Sergi
on his left. Robert sat between Sandra and Jennifer. Emily glanced over at the beautiful woman seated next to Rain and felt what she knew was jealousy - the brightest, greenest variety in existence.

 The hostess returned with a bottle of champagne nestled in an ice bucket and set it on the table in front of Rain. "On the house," she said, expertly opening the bottle while a waiter set out champagne flutes. Emily scanned the other faces in the group and thought she’d go crazy if she didn’t soon find out what was going on.
Why are they congratulating Rain?

"Thank you," Rain said graciously as the waitress filled their glasses. "Can you join us?"

She laughed. "I'd love to. Unfortunately, I’ve got to work."

“Too bad,” he said with one of his dazzling smiles. Emily thought she could see the waitress melt under it.

"A toast," said Ivan as he rose to his feet.
"To our good friend Ray.
Congratulations on your remarkable achievement. This is clearly only the beginning.” Emily joined in the toast. She sought out Rain's eye as they touched glasses and flashed what she hoped was a look that could kill. He smiled guilelessly back.

"I should tell you that Emily doesn’t have a clue what’s going on,” Rain said after everyone had taken sips and Ivan had resumed his seat. Emily inwardly fumed. "I'm afraid I've kept her completely in the dark."

“So you don’t know about Ray’s book?” Sandra asked with surprise. Emily shook her head as she tried to register what she’d just heard. “Ray wrote a book about the farm where he lives,” Sandra explained. “It’s a history, really, of the family it belonged to.
The
Alexanders
.”

Emily tried not to let the shock of this news show on her face.
Rain has written a book?
On her family?
Is this the book he was referring to in the car?
His book?

“Emily is an Alexander,” she heard Rain announce to the table.

"One of
the
Alexanders
?"
Sandra asked as everyone at the table looked at Emily in amazement.

“That’s right,” Rain said. “Emily grew up on the farm and is the great-great-great-great granddaughter of the Emily Alexander of my book.” Sandra continued to look impressed.

Emily looked from Sandra to Rain, detecting triumph in his voice. "I wrote my PhD thesis on the history of the Alexander family,” he explained as coolly as if he were telling her what he’d eaten for lunch. “We're celebrating tonight because my thesis has just been published by a major press."

Emily wondered how many more surprises she could take. Rain had a
PhD?!
 The same Rain who had been a farm worker all his life?
The same Rain she had felt so superior to....

"Congratulations," she said finally, hoping her voice didn’t betray her inner turmoil. “I’d love to read it.” She repeated the same words she had used a lifetime ago in the car.

"Of course,” he said, feigning an English accent and speaking with mock importance. “I’ll have my agent send a signed, complimentary copy.” Everyone laughed, and Emily tried to smile convincingly.

Touché
, Emily thought, wishing the champagne was a glass of straight-up scotch instead. Rain had set her up. This was why he had invited her out after she had thrown a glass of wine at him. It was revenge for suggesting he become a mechanic. What an arrogant fool she’d been! She was still mad at him for embarrassing her in front of his friends, but she knew she deserved every bit of it. 

With the exception of
Sergi
, who had been Rain's thesis advisor and looked to be around fifty, the rest of the party were all younger than Rain, closer in age to herself. They were attractive people: confident, intelligent,
gracious
. There was no hint of jealousy; they revelled in Rain's success as if it were their own.

Rain's friends did their best to make her feel welcome, asking polite questions about her work and life in Toronto. Clearly Rain had never told them about their relationship. Emily, who was becoming more and more convinced that Jennifer was the girlfriend, wondered how much she knew. She also wondered what Jennifer would think if she’d known that Rain had tried to kiss her the day before. At that moment, Jennifer casually laid a hand on Rain’s arm and murmured something close to his ear. Rain nodded and smiled back at her confidingly. Jennifer glanced over at Emily and
smiled,
a warm friendly expression. Perhaps because it was so warm and friendly Emily felt herself freeze. Quickly she looked down at her
drink,
sure that Jennifer could see the conflicting emotions written all over her face.

"When was the last time you were home?" asked Sandra suddenly, jolting Emily out of her thoughts.

"About ten years," Emily answered, hoping that her voice sounded calm and that Sandra wasn’t going to ask too many questions.

"How could you stay away so long?” she asked incredulously. “It's such a wonderful place."

"Just busy, I guess.” She couldn’t help but glance up the table to Rain, where he and Jennifer were still talking in low voices.          

Just then the waitress returned to top up their champagne. Rain declined, placing his hand over the glass. "Driving," he explained.

"I'll drive," Emily protested, not knowing whether she was doing this out of politeness or out of a silly desire to out-nice Rain’s friends. "This is your party, after all. Enjoy it."

"Oh, no.
You're my guest. Besides, I like driving your car.” He then addressed the rest of the table. "You know, I really wanted to be a mechanic, not a writer."