When It Rains: The bittersweet romance you won't want to miss Page 15

  My father takes the coffee gratefully and wraps his free hand around my shoulders and pulls me close to his chest for a hug. ‘You’re a good kid, Hols.’

  He lets go, and I stand straight and try to smile.

  ‘Try not to worry, okay?’ my father mumbles, knowing full well that’s an impossibility. ‘I’ll call you. I promise.’

  He dashes out the front door, and the engine of his car purrs quickly to life as he drives away.

  I close the door and drag myself back toward the kitchen. The house is quiet with no sound other than the low hum of the pipes in the hall. My feet are like solid concrete blocks that protest moving. Nate meets me at the kitchen door. He has a cup of coffee in each hand, and his car keys dangle from his baby finger.

  ‘There are no more flasks,’ he explains. ‘So we’ll have to drink these before we go.’

  ‘Go?’

  ‘We’ll take my car, yeah?’

  ‘To the hospital?’ I ask, wrapping my hands around the warm cup Nate offers me. ‘Really? You don’t mind driving? It’s the middle of the night.’

  ‘Well, I can’t say I’d be up for it every night,’ Nate jokes softly, and I allow myself to smile. ‘But I know you won’t go back to sleep, and you’ll only sit up and worry. You might as well worry at the hospital.’

  ‘Thanks, Nate. I just want to be there, you know. I feel so helpless here.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Nate says softly. ‘But don’t get your hopes up, Holly. I don’t think there’s much you’ll be able to do at the hospital either. There will be a lot of waiting around. But I understand you wanting to be there.’

  ‘Actually, there is something I can do. Something really important.’ I pass Nate back my almost full cup of coffee. ‘I can read to her.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Nate gushes with his eyes on the bedroom door, and I realise he’d already been thinking of Nana’s book. ‘I think she’d really like that.’

  ‘Will you wake Ben?’ I ask. ‘I know he’ll want to come.’

  ‘God, Hols, that brother of yours could sleep through a hurricane,’ Nate says, placing the coffee cups on the hall table. ‘Sure. I’ll go wake him up now, and you grab Annie’s book. We should be ready to leave in ten minutes or so.’

  I kiss Nate on the lips instinctively. An old habit. I quickly break away and blush unsure of what I’ve done or what he might think it means.

  Nate doesn’t move. Or talk. But his dark eyes burn into mine with super nova intensity.

  ‘Thanks,’ I mumble awkwardly. ‘For the lift, I mean,’ I clarify quickly and walk away.

  I hurry towards the bedroom without looking back. If I look back, I’ll want to run into his arms and kiss the shit out of him. And I can’t. Not now. I can’t handle any more complications right now. My mind might burst. I run my fingers along my lips as if I can find traces of Nate’s taste. So consumed with sadness, I didn’t realise how much I missed his simple touch. I really miss him—like you might miss a body part severed in a terrible accident.

  Nineteen

  At the hospital, Ben sees my mother first. He taps me on the shoulder and points at where she sits alone in a long, empty corridor. Her elbows are on her knees and her head hangs low, hiding in her hands. She looks smaller than usual, thinner too.

  ‘Mom,’ Ben calls out, and I can hear the fear in his voice.

  My mother lowers her hands and looks up. Her bloodshot eyes are sunken and poignant and desperately hard to gaze at. She’s broken and sadder than I’ve ever known her to be, but there’s a spark of relief to see us. She knew we’d come.

  ‘The doctor is in with Nana now,’ she whispers. ‘He’s been in there a while. A nurse too. They asked me to wait out here. But wait for what? What are they going to say? I don’t know what they’re going to say.’

  My mother’s words are short and clipped. As if finishing the last syllable would zap more energy than she has in her body.

  ‘Okay,’ I say, taking a seat next to her. ‘We can wait together.’

  I rest my hand on her knee, and she instantly sets her hand on top of mine and gives a little squeeze. She won’t say it because my father expressly told me not to come, but I know she’s glad we’re here. I’m glad we’re here too. Not just for Nana.

  ‘Can I get you anything. A coffee? Water maybe?’ I whisper.

  ‘You know what?’ My mother shifts in her seat, probably uncomfortable from sitting in the stiff, metal waiting chair for too long. ‘If I drink any more coffee, I’m going to start bouncing off the walls. But your dad went to get some anyway. I think he needed something to do. He’s been gone a while. Maybe he got lost.’

  ‘Maybe he did.’ I try to smile, struggling to keep the emotional crack out of my voice. ‘Ben? Nate? Would you mind going to look for him? He has a terrible sense of direction, you know. He’ll probably end up on an operating table or something.’ I giggle, trying desperately to lighten the atmosphere.

  No one laughs, but Nate offers me an encouraging smile. ‘Sure.’ Nate winks. ‘It’ll give you and your mom some time to talk too.’

  I scowl, and Nate cuts himself off. I know he wants me to tell my mother about the baby. But now is the worst possible time.

  ‘Don’t worry, Blair,’ Nate says, backing away. ‘We’ll find George.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Mom sniffles.

  ‘Ben,’ Nate calls. ‘Ben. Hey, Ben.’ Nate struggles to get Ben’s attention.

  Ben is standing with his hands on his hips, and his head dropped low but his eyes peer up. His odd position reminds me of our favourite kids’ movie, Dumbo. Ben and I would flitter away hours watching Disney movies on a loop when we were young. And right now, Ben is the nearest thing to one of the animated vultures from Dumbo that I have ever seen. Under different circumstance, his position would be hilarious, and I’d tease him about it for at least a week. I’d probably even email him some screenshots from the best bits of the movie. But it’s not funny today. His shoulders contort because he’s trying to see through the narrow sliver of frosted glass on the closed door of our grandmother’s hospital room. He can’t gain a clear view, and he shakes his head every so often in frustration. For the first time, I wonder if I’ve been too hard on Ben when I judged him for not visiting Nana often in recent months. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to watch her fade from the vibrant head of the family who we loved to a frail old lady who will leave us soon. I want to jump up and hug my older brother, but I’m afraid that if I move, my mother might topple over.

  ‘Ben,’ Nate says again, sternly this time. ‘Your dad has gone walk about. Come help me find him, yeah?’

  Ben straightens up, and a little colour rushes back into his pale cheeks. I think he’s relieved to have a job to do. Ben, Nate, and I all know my father is perfectly capable of navigating his way around the hospital alone. But Ben welcomes the distraction with enthusiasm.

  ‘Here you go, Hols,’ Ben says, taking Nana’s manuscript that he’s kept tucked under his arm and placing it across my knees.

  ‘Thanks,’ I mumble, stretching my fingers out flat on top as if I’m waiting for nail polish to dry.

  I sway from side to side in time to the beat of Nate and Ben’s shoes tapping on the highly polished floor tiles as they walk to the end of the long corridor and disappear around the corner. My mother rocks with me as we sit in silence. There’s a clock overhead and the eerie stillness all around amplifies the ticking of the second hand. Every now and then, my hand circles the front page of Nana’s manuscript, and I run my fingers over and back across my woolly scarf. I think about asking my mother if she would like to read some, but I know her answer without having to ask. If she wanted to read it, she would have by now. And I wonder why she doesn’t want to. I find comfort in Nana’s words. I think my mother would too, if she would just allow herself to read it.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ my mother asks, finally breaking the silence.

  ‘Me?’ I squeak, tapping my finger against my chest.

  ‘
No. Sorry, love, I’m talking to one of the many other people here.’ My mother laughs, sarcastically trying to make light of the atmosphere, but her voice is half an octave lower than usual, and she’s not fooling me.

  ‘I’m okay,’ I lie. ‘You?’

  My mother turns her knees towards me and crosses her legs. The rest of her body follows until she’s sitting sideways in her chair. She’s looking at me sternly; the way she used to when I was a teenager and she caught me doing something stupid that I really should have known better than to do.

  ‘What?’ I say, straightening.

  ‘I mean, how are you feeling, Holly? Are you still sick?’

  I shake my head. ‘I’m much better now. It must have been something I ate.’

  My mother raises a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Really?’

  My nose wrinkles as I realise she knows about the baby, and I sigh deeply with reluctant acceptance. ‘Ben has a big mouth,’ I snap, furious that my brother couldn’t even hold on to a secret for twenty-four hours.

  ‘Ben didn’t tell me.’ My mother sighs, and I can hear the disappointment in her voice that I’ve hidden this from her. ‘But I’m glad to hear you’ve told your brother.’

  ‘Did Nate tell you, then?’ I shake my head.

  ‘Actually …’ My mother smiles brightly, and I know what she’s going to say. ‘Nana told me. I had my suspicions from the moment you set foot in the house, and Nana must have picked up on it. She could barely draw her breath this evening, but she managed to blurt out Holly’s pregnant as clear as day.’

  ‘Even before Marcy told me Nana knew about the baby, I already had a feeling that Nana suspected something,’ I admit, smiling. ‘She didn’t say anything, but it was the way she looked at me, you know.’

  ‘Yes. I do know.’ My mother nods. ‘It’s probably the same way she looked at me when I was pregnant with your bother and again with you. She says she has a sixth sense for these things. She says she knew she was pregnant with me before any doctor confirmed it. She just knew.’

  I sigh, and my breath ruffles the pages on my knee, reminding me that they are there. Pleading with me to read more.

  ‘Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ my mother whispers.

  The zip of Nate’s hoodie suddenly grows uncomfortably tight against my throat, and my fingers fumble as I loosen it. I wasn’t prepared for that question, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold it together if I try to answer. My mother’s heart is already breaking; the last thing she needs is for me to have a meltdown.

  ‘How far along are you?’ she asks.

  ‘Seventeen weeks. The baby has fingers and toes now,’ I explain. ‘And I think I can feel it kick sometimes. Well, flutter. But I know it’s moving around in there.’

  ‘Is that why you and Nate are in a funny place? Because of the baby?’

  ‘We’re not in a funny place,’ I defend.

  ‘Oh, Holly, come on now. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out something’s not right between the two of you at the moment. Sudden breakups don’t just happen for no reason. I thought you were crazy about him. You were certainly head over heels in love with him when you were twenty-two, and your father and I begged you not to move in with him, but you insisted you knew better. It’s been rather nice, I must say, to have you prove us wrong over the years. Nate is a good guy, Holly. Good guys are hard to find.’

  ‘Nate is a good guy, Mom,’ I admit.

  ‘What is it then?’ My mother’s forehead wrinkles like a wrung-out dishcloth. ‘Is it the baby? Is Nate not ready to be a dad?’

  ‘No. God, no. Nate is so excited about the baby.’ I swallow. ‘It’s the baby. The baby is sick.’

  My mother takes a sharp, sudden breath in through her nose and puffs it back out through her mouth. I bet right now she’s thinking about having a drag on a cigarette. I am too. I bet she’s sorry now that she and I made a pact five months ago to quit together. I haven’t smoked a single cigarette since the day of Nana’s diagnosis.

  ‘How sick?’ she asks after a brief silence.

  ‘Very,’ I say, and I surprise myself with how easily the admission slips past my lips as if I’ve finally accepted what I can’t change.

  Maybe I’ll even be able to discuss my sick baby soon. Especially with Nate. I’ve postponed telling people about the baby because I couldn’t bear to see them feel sorry for me. I saw the way Nate looked at me in the hospital when they broke the news about our baby to us. His heart was breaking. But it was breaking for me. I didn’t want to do that to him. I knew I wasn’t okay, and I didn’t know if I ever would be. Nate’s chocolate eyes clouded over, and he looked at me as if he was desperate to fix me; he would try everything to make it better. And I knew that was just the beginning. Nine months is a long time. Nate would put all his energy into healing me, and when he couldn’t mend my broken heart, he would feel like a failure. That isn’t fair to him. It isn’t my fault that our baby is sick. I get that. I do. But it is my fault that my inability to cope is breaking Nate. I’m breaking him. And I feel so damn guilty about that.

  ‘Holly, having your first baby is never easy,’ my mother whispers gently. ‘It’s a scary time even when the little one is perfectly healthy. Knowing that your baby is sick, well, it must be terrifying. But don’t push away the one person you need the most.’

  ‘I need Nana,’ I heave, unable to fight back my emotion anymore. ‘I need her, Mom. I need her so much. I can’t lose my baby and Nana at the same time.’

  I drag the back of my hand under my nose and sniffle. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’ I snort, trying to compose myself.

  My mother doesn’t move. I’m not sure if she’s even breathing. Maybe she’s holding her breath because if she lets it out, her heart will come tumbling out with it.

  ‘I know you love your grandmother, Holly. We all do.’ My mother takes the manuscript from my knees and places it on her lap. It’s the first time she’s touched it, and I can see tears gather in the corners of her eyes. She presses both her hands firmly onto each of my knees. ‘Holly, listen to me,’ she says calmly, much more calmly than I know she’s feeling. ‘Stand. Go for a walk. Grab yourself a glass of water or something.’

  I try to smile through my tears. I’m not thirsty, and I’m too tired to walk around, but I know my mother is trying to offer supportive advice.

  ‘Maybe a coffee,’ I say, dragging my fingers under my eyes.

  ‘Coffee. Good idea,’ Mom says. ‘Just take a moment to yourself. You’ll feel better for it, trust me.’

  I gaze at the closed door of my grandmother’s hospital room, and I’m reluctant to leave the hallway. But I can hear my mother drag a tear-soaked breath in and puff it back out with force, and I slowly realise that my mother needs some time alone with the paper in her hands. I stand.

  ‘The doctor shouldn’t be much longer with Nana. When you get back, we are going to take this old thing ...’ My mother picks up the manuscript and swipes her hand across the front page. ‘And we are going to read until our eyes blur, and we are going to make some more memories. All of us. Together.’

  Twenty

  Sketch allows his car to roll to a natural stop just feet away from the front porch of my house. He fishes his watch out of his inside jacket pocket. ‘Look at that,’ he says, pointing at the face. ‘We’re fifteen minutes early.’

  ‘Thank you for a lovely day.’ I smile as thoughts of Sketch’s lips on mine dance through my head.

  ‘I’m looking forward to tomorrow already,’ Sketch says with a cheeky wink. ‘Here,’ he adds, fishing his hand around deeper in his watch pocket. ‘This is for you.’

  I open my hand, and Sketch places a coin against my palm. I look down and gasp. ‘Half a crown.’ I shake my head. ‘I told you I didn’t want to take your money. We had a lovely day.’

  ‘We did have a lovely day, didn’t we?’ Sketch presses his back firmly into the driver’s seat. ‘And what do you think your father might say about that?’

&nb
sp; I exhale sharply. Sketch is right. As degrading as it is to take Sketch’s money, I have no choice. My father will be expecting me to hand over my wages for my day’s work as soon as I walk through the door.

  ‘I hate this,’ I say. ‘I hate that you have to pay my father off for a chance to kiss me.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Annie.’ Sketch frowns. ‘Don’t make it sound dirty or cheap. Don’t spoil what we have.’

  ‘Today was wonderful, Sketch, but I can’t do this. I can’t have a picnic and run through the fields laughing and joking and then take your money as if I’ve worked hard all day. It’s dishonest.’

  ‘What are you saying, Annie?’ Sketch sighs. ‘Don’t you want to see me again?’

  ‘Of course, I do. I’d see you every single day if I could. But not like this. Not a lie.’

  ‘Okay then.’ Sketch stiffens, and his broad shoulders suddenly seem to span a little wider as he reaches for the door handle.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I balk.

  ‘You want honesty.’ Sketch nods. ‘I’m going to march up to the front door and give your father a piece of my mind.’

  I clutch Sketch’s arm quickly. My nails dig into the cool, black leather of his jacket. ‘Are you crazy?’ I cry. ‘He’ll kill you.’

  Sketch snorts. ‘I’d like to see him try. I’m not afraid of him, Annie.’

  I release Sketch’s arm and hold my breath; I know I can’t physically stop him from getting out of the car. Not if he really wants to go.

  ‘But I am.’ I finally exhale. ‘I’m afraid of him.’

  Sketch’s fingers uncurl from around the door handle, and he twists in his seat to face me. He reaches for a strand of my flyaway chestnut hair and sweeps it off my face and tucks it behind my ear. ‘I don’t want you to get out of this car and walk into that house,’ Sketch says, ‘Not when I know there’s a monster inside.’

  ‘That monster is my father, Sketch. And that house is my home. I don’t have a choice.’

  ‘Annie, you can’t live like this. You can’t spend your whole life looking over your shoulder.’