Page 2 of Through The Rain
When she’d looked out the window and seen the late-model, blue F-250 with magnetic signs advertising his landscape engineering business on the door coming up the drive, she’d been so angry. She’d taken a half-day off from her secretarial job at the elementary school, loaded up her car, and made the three-hour drive because she wanted to spend the weekend alone. She wasn’t here to dwell on the end of her marriage or think about how it affected their children. She didn’t want to cope with endless doubts about her decision constantly spinning through her mind.
She just wanted to breathe.
For just a couple of days, she wanted to escape feeling like a failed wife and a mother who’d broken her children’s hearts. And maybe she could find enough peace so she could think of him without her own heart breaking all over again.
She’d had enough of the sympathetic looks and well-meaning advice. Of the guilt every time she saw the fallout of her decision on her kids’ faces. Of sifting through belongings to separate his from hers, and trying to figure out what to do with things that were theirs. Things like this cabin, which they were undoubtedly going to sell, so she was here to say goodbye.
And now he was here, ruining any possibility she’d find some peace.
Despite her frustration, her heart ached with seeing him again and she couldn’t help giving him a once over to see how he was holding up on his own. His dark hair and beard had been recently trimmed, and his clothes didn’t have the rumpled look of having been plucked out of a clean clothes basket. It shouldn’t annoy her that he was managing not to fall apart without her, but she couldn’t help it.
“I would have carried that for you,” he said once he’d joined her on the porch. He was carrying a much smaller cooler, which he set next to hers, but she noticed he’d left his duffel bag and anything else he’d brought back in the truck.
“I know you would have.” She didn’t bother telling him she was getting used to doing things for herself now, since she’d been doing just that for the last three months. Maybe she didn’t want to introduce the negativity into the moment, or maybe she was afraid he’d tell her it was her own fault since she was the one who’d called an end to their marriage. Either way, she didn’t want to hear it right now.
The rain started coming down in earnest then, and a loud crack of thunder made her jump. Emily had loved thunderstorms as a kid, but once she’d reached adulthood and had to worry about damage and lightning strikes, they’d become more anxiety-inducing than fun.
She pulled open the screen door and propped her hip against it, intending to pick up the cooler and bring it inside, but Scott lifted it before she had the chance.
“I’ve got it.” His tone told her not to bother arguing, so she stepped out of the way while still holding the door open.
After he set it next to the fridge, she thanked him, and wasn’t surprised when he just nodded and went back outside with a bang of the screen door, grabbing one of the collapsible camp chairs they kept by the door on his way out because the Adirondack chairs were wet. A few seconds later, she heard the chair being snapped open and the slight groan it made when he sank into it.
If he wanted to sit outside and watch the storm alone, more power to him, she thought. It was better than the two of them occupying the same space but having nothing to say to each other.
Early in their marriage she’d seen the story play out on television screens and even for a few of their friends—two people get married and raise kids together, seemingly happy, until one day when it’s just the two of them and they realize they have nothing to say to each other anymore. Emily had sworn to herself that would never be her and Scott. She’d believed it with all of her heart.
Until the day came when she realized that, without Dylan and Janie there to fill the silence, she and Scott had nothing to talk about.
As rain pounded on the roof, punctuated by claps of thunder and bright flashes of lightning, Emily sang along with a playlist she kept on her phone, and wiped away the dust that had settled over every flat surface since the last time they’d visited. She would wait until the storm had passed to transfer food from the cooler to the refrigerator, because if the power went out, she’d just have to move it all back.
It was like stepping back in time. Except for a tiny bathroom, the cabin was all one room, with an open sleeping loft for the kids. There was a queen bed in one corner, along with a battered leather sofa. A small kitchen table with four chairs and two beanbag chairs—unused for years—completed the furnishings. There were two folding camp cots in the loft because proper twin beds would have filled the space, and the kids liked the ability to fold up the cots and have the floor space on rainy days.
They’d made so many good memories here. But as time went on and the kids got busy, it got harder to get away. Once they started driving and had jobs of their own, it became almost impossible. She and her daughter had done a girls’ weekend two years ago, but Emily hadn’t even visited the camp last year. She’d held out hope that someday in the future, maybe grandchildren would be an excuse to spend time on the lake again.
The storm raged for almost an hour before winding down to nothing, and by the time she’d put fresh linens on the bed, the rain had stopped. She heard Scott’s footsteps on the porch and a few seconds later, he spoke to her through the screen door.
“I’m going to look around and make sure there’s no damage before I go.”
“Okay,” she replied, and she had to clench her jaw to keep from telling him he didn’t have to go. He was probably exhausted from the long drive after a workday, and to turn around and drive all the way home was a lot. They could make it work.
But he was a grown man. If he thought he was too tired to make the drive back, it was on him to bring up the possibility of them sharing the cabin for the night. And if he was too stubborn to do that or if he truly couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same space as her, then that was on him, too.
About twenty minutes later, he returned and as soon as he stepped into the cabin, she could see he didn’t look happy.
“The good news is that there’s no damage to the cabin or the dock,” he said.
If the good news made him look that grim, she was almost afraid to know the rest. “So what’s the bad news?”
“There are two trees down across the driveway.” He dropped into a kitchen chair, running his hand over his face. “I don’t have a chainsaw and we are not at the top of the list of people who need help. The trees down on power lines and buildings get priority. And the main roads, of course.”
“So we’re trapped.” Her first thought was of the kids. They’d be okay if she wasn’t home by Sunday afternoon, thankfully, though Dylan got on Janie’s nerves if they spent too much time together. The bigger question was how okay she would be after spending a weekend sharing a space with the man she’d lived with for over two decades.
“I guess you could swim to another camp if you wanted. Or see if that old canoe in the shed will float.”
“The canoe got shoved into the shed because it didn’t float. Nice try at getting rid of me for good, though.”
He looked offended for a few seconds, but he must have seen that she was joking because she’d never been capable of pulling off humor with a straight face. He chuckled, and it felt good when his mouth curved into a real smile.
