The Promise of Rain (21 page)

His mom raised her brows. “Have you, now? Sometimes I think you seriously believe you’ve said it. Up here, perhaps.” She pointed to her head. “But the words don’t make it out your mouth, Jack. You’ve shown it. Sweetie, in so many ways, you’ve shown it. I’m not faulting you that, but you’ve never brought yourself to say it. Not since your parents died.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at the mention of them.

“
You’re
my parents.”

“Of course we are. I couldn’t have been blessed with a more extraordinary son. You know what I mean. I’m sure you love us all. I know you must love your little girl and I’m pretty sure you love Anna and always have, but I’m not certain you know it. I’m not even sure she knows it, or believes it.”

“Of course she knows it.”
Wait a minute.
Had he just said that? Didn’t logic dictate that if he thought she knew it, then he must have been feeling it? His brownie overload threatened a comeback. Everything he’d ever felt for Anna had gone so far beyond friendship, caring, respect and simply knowing he was happiest when she was with him. She made him strong, always had. But he’d tried showing her. Hadn’t his friendship and support meant anything to her? Didn’t actions speak louder than words?

Jack reached for the plate. This time his mother pulled it back.

“I—I proposed to her. Doesn’t that say something?”

“You did?” His mom took her hand off the plate abruptly, sending crumbs scattering across the counter.

“Twice. And she said no. Flat out.” He raised himself a few inches off the stool, just enough for his long arm to reach the plate, and stuffed another entire brownie in his mouth all at once. He’d deal with antacids later, and maybe run a few miles.

“Well.” His mom wrinkled her forehead and set the empty tray and knife by the sink. The plate of brownies was piled high. Like Mount Kilimanjaro. Where had that image come from? He was losing it. “Let me guess. You proposed without saying ‘I love you.’ Mind you, that’s just a wild guess.”

Jack looked at his mom. Guilty as charged. But it didn’t matter, did it? He and Anna were close. It was understood that they were important to each other.

“Jack, what did you expect?”

“I told her we could get married and raise Pippa together. It made perfect sense. What I expected was for her to say yes. She said no.”

“Where did I go wrong?” his mom said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She took off her apron and hung it on its hook inside the pantry door. She took a brownie for herself and sat on the stool next to Jack. “What about the first time you asked?”

“I asked her after she graduated. After her mom told her the truth and we—you know. She said no because she hasn’t believed in marriage since her parents’ divorce.” Jack covered his face, then raked his hair back. He really was an idiot. Anna’s perspective was slowly coming into...perspective.

“That doesn’t sound like the Anna I used to hear about,” his mom said. “The one I watched the other day with the faraway look on her face. She’s hurt. Guarded. Afraid. Like someone else I know. I think she believes in marriage more than either of you care to admit, but you told her you wanted to get married for Pippa, not for her. And to think you earned a PhD.”

Jack looked at her in surprise. His sweet mom had taken a stab at him in Anna’s defense.

“Jack. Get over it already. You’re about to lose what you’ve always wanted, and it has nothing to do with that lab you hide in. If you can’t say it to your father, sister or me, I understand. I know you love me anyway, but you need to tell her. Marriage is sacred. It’s about love—not some formula or duty. Prove to her that you believe that. That you
feel
it.”

Jack got up and went to the fridge for milk. Why were the words so important? His biological parents had said them. They’d said “Love ya, Jack,” every time they wanted him to do something or wanted him out of the way. “Love ya” meant “get your own cereal because Mommy has a hangover.” It meant “sorry, but no TV tonight because grown-up friends are coming over.” And Jack, as little as he’d been, knew that meant drugs. He’d gladly hidden in his room. In his closet with a book. “Love ya” meant “thanks for not bothering us.” Empty words. Because people who loved you didn’t leave you. They didn’t go kill themselves because you weren’t enough to make them happy.

Actions speak louder than words.
Was he the only person around who had taken that lesson to heart?

Or maybe his mom was right. He was afraid. Afraid that if he said those words, then the real love, the love he’d been surrounded with since his adoption, the love he had felt from Anna, would disappear, just as his biological parents had. Dead. His life would become empty, as it had been before. It was feeling empty now, with Anna gone. Emptier than ever. And it blew his mind how nothingness could be so painful.

He shut the fridge without taking the milk out. “It doesn’t matter anymore. After what I’ve done, she’ll think I’m saying it to convince her to marry me because of Pippa. Again. And she’s made it clear that she won’t leave her work in Busara. I know nothing I say will change that. And my work is here. For Pippa’s sake, I need to make sure I have a steady income and insurance.”

“Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

Jack shook his head as he wrapped four brownies in a napkin. Maybe it was the chocolate or the sugar. Whatever it was, it was hitting him hard.

He wouldn’t want her to change her mind. He’d tried so hard to get her to stay, for selfish reasons. If she did, she’d be miserable. She didn’t belong here, and if he cared about her, he couldn’t expect that of her.

But love could be such a twisted thing, because Pippa mattered, too. He needed her to be here. And he understood Anna belonged there.

He didn’t want to deal with lawyers and fights. He didn’t want to put Anna through that. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to remain friends, if that’s all it could be. What he needed was to find a way to convince her that Pippa would be better off with him, without destroying anything left between them.

* * *

J
ACK
SLOWED
DOWN
and looked for the town house complex with three blue spruces flanking each side of the entrance. He was going on recent memory, having dropped Anna and Pippa off at her mother’s the night before they left. He spotted the entrance beyond the traffic signal, and waited for the light to change. If anyone could help him reason with Anna, it would be her mother. She didn’t like him much, he got that, but he couldn’t think of anyone else who came close to caring about Anna and Pippa as much as he did.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Jack said out loud. “That’s
not
why.”

He was crazy, talking to himself, but he couldn’t shut his mind up the entire way over. That guilty voice accusing him of taking advantage of her mother’s emotions, knowing full well how badly she wanted her daughter and granddaughter back in the States. This was wrong.
No.
He was doing what was right. He was preventing a battle that would only trap Pippa in the middle and rip Anna apart. Wasn’t he?
No.
You’re not playing fair. Stop.

Jack passed the light and turned into the complex. He parked at the unit on the far end, with the plain patch of grass in front and the small, concrete slab patio surrounded by boxwoods and azaleas on the side. This was it.

Jack walked up to the front door and rang the bell. He’d noticed from a distance that the patio door was open, but he wasn’t comfortable enough with Susan to go around the side entrance unannounced. He rang again. Still no answer. Two bundles of morning newspapers lay off in the corner by the door. That didn’t make sense. She hadn’t picked up her paper in two days?

He knew she was home. The open side door, the mug and pulled-out chair at her bistro set. Jack scratched his neck, then slipped a finger behind the collar of his sweatshirt and gave it a stretch. Something indefinable in the pit of his stomach told him to forget formalities.

He walked around to the patio. An album lay open on the table. A baby album opened to an old photograph. Jack angled his head to get a better look. Anna, with her clean, natural beauty, cradling her baby brother. Another photo was of her mom in the same position. They must have taken turns, Jack realized. Had someone else, like her dad, been there to take the picture, all three would have been in it. But he hadn’t been there.

Jack remembered how, after the funeral, time with Anna became more and more scarce. She was always busy at home. Always helping her mom out. It wasn’t until they’d grown even closer, when she was in vet school, that she’d confided in him about her mom’s mental health.

Jack moved the mug that was holding down a loose, overturned photo. Anna and Pippa. It must have been taken the night she came to dinner. A wave of ice went up Jack’s back and the hair on his arms prickled.

“Sue?”

He reached the patio door in one long stride and pushed the screen out of the way.

“Sue!”

Jack went cold. He was a boy again. Standing in his bedroom doorway, looking out at the living room. His parents lying on the floor. His mother’s eyes half open in an empty stare, the needle still in her arm. His father slumped across the coffee table. There was white powder, vials...

Jack’s blood sucked downward to his feet, then surged straight up through him with a riptide of adrenaline.

“Sue, wait. Look at me. It’s Jack. I—I came to have some coffee with you. Let’s have some coffee.” He took a slow step forward.

Anna’s mom looked up at him. Her eyes were distant and hollow and her face ashen. She wore pajamas and her hair hung in tangled strands. He’d never seen her unkempt, like his biological mother used to be after waking up with a hangover. Sue had looked happy and put together when he’d picked Anna and Pippa up from dinner. Anna had told him she couldn’t leave the States unless she made sure her mom was okay, and Sue had been, from what he’d heard. She’d shown Anna a job application she’d submitted. She hadn’t even cried when they left.

Jack stepped over laundry scattered near a basket by the door. Sue shook her head and he stopped. Uncapped prescription pill bottles were piled in front of her on the table. A big bottle of vanilla extract lay on its side. She sat in a chair, a full glass of something dark in one hand and a pile of pills in the other. She’d have them down before he could reach her.

“It doesn’t matter, Jack. What’s the point of life if you get nothing from it? Nothing but loneliness and pain?” She looked at the empty pill containers. “I didn’t really need these, but I’m glad I never threw them out. They’re mostly expired, but alcohol is supposed to make drugs stronger. Right? This is all I have.” She raised the glass of extract. “I’ve been so good about not drinking. My psychiatrist warned me not to. Especially because of the pills.” Her chin quivered as she stared at the glass. “It’ll work, won’t it? You should know. You’re a scientist, aren’t you?”

Jack’s brain was firing in all directions. She hadn’t thought this through. The extract. The album outside. The photos. How long had she been sitting in here?

“This probably won’t work, Sue. It’ll just make you throw up.” He wasn’t totally sure of that, but he was more worried about the number of prescription pills in her hand. “If this is what you want, let’s talk about better ways. Why don’t you come show me where your coffee is, and we can go sit and talk.”

“You’re not talking me out of this.” Sue’s fist closed around the pills. “How stupid do you think I am?”

“You’re not. But swallow those pills and I’ll have 911 here pumping you out in a flash. It won’t work.” The truth was, he had no idea what drugs she had and how fast they’d take effect. “Listen to me, Sue. You’re a beautiful, smart mother who Anna adores. And you have little Pippa now, too, and she’ll want to be able to wake up Christmas morning and find her grandma baking cookies for her. This won’t help you. It’ll hurt them. You don’t want that. I know you don’t. That’s why I’m here. Because we both care and need to be there for them.”

Sue’s chest started heaving and her hand shook. Sweat trickled down Jack’s sides. He’d said the wrong thing. Panic sent his pulse out of rhythm. What did he need to say? Pressure built in his ears. He’d been too late, helpless to save his parents.

“Christmas morning?” Tears streaked down Sue’s face. “You don’t care, Jack. You’re not my son. My little boy’s dead. I don’t have him in my life. I don’t have my daughter or granddaughter or husband. I don’t have anything. And you’ll end up hurting my Anna. I know you will.”

Oh, God.
He’d said the wrong thing. He was losing her.

“No, Sue. Let’s talk about how to bring them back. You and me. We’re going to get Anna and Pippa back here. We’ll all be together.”

“I’ll just be a burden. I don’t want that. I can’t take this life anymore.”

She raised her hand and Jack lunged. His fist closed over hers. Her glass cracked against the table, then hit the carpet.

“Let go of the pills.” Jack caught his breath and calmed his tone. “Sue. Let go of the pills. Your son would want you to. He’s been counting on you to look after his big sister and niece. He needs you to be here for them, because that’s the kind of man he would have been, and that’s how you can honor him.”

Jack heard the pills clatter against the table, and the sound vibrated in his bones. Sue let out a heartbreaking sob and collapsed against him. Jack wrapped his arms around her and helped her stand. “It’s going to be okay. Come here.” He inched her toward the far side of the room, for his own peace of mind.

“I don’t know what to do,” she cried against his chest.

He held her frail body tight. “You don’t have to. I’m here. I’ll make sure you’ll be okay.”

* * *

J
ACK
ROLLED
HIS
CHAIR
back from his desk and looked around his lab. The pile of paperwork on his desk hadn’t moved, and he couldn’t get himself to focus on it. The lab was being maintained. Everything that needed to be autoclaved had been. The shelves were organized. The lab was perfect and pristine, down to the white walls. His tech stood at the sterile hood, pipetting samples onto an electrophoresis gel. More data would come of it. Data that, not long ago, Jack had immersed himself in and been thrilled by. A sterile buzz. And now none of it mattered. Feeling at home in his lab, feeling accomplished and fulfilled—all of it was gone. None of it mattered, except to serve as a source of income. He could work every day of his life, but it would all be for Pippa.