Raising Rain (21 page)

Bebe spent the afternoon writing a letter to Scott. He'd said in his last letter that he survived the gas chamber, and was disappointed to only qualify as a rifle marksman. “I got the stupid ‘pizza box,'” he wrote. The badge was shaped like a square with a target in the middle. He wanted to qualify as an expert, and he would try harder when he requalified the next year. Coming up was field week where they would sleep under the stars, hike for miles, and generally prepare for the crucible. Bebe didn't like the sound of it, but he seemed enthusiastic. He said he'd gotten another letter from Bobby, but he didn't elaborate.

In less than three weeks they would be going to his graduation, and Bebe could hardly wait to see him again. She called her parents and offered to take them along to San Diego with them, but her mother said she wasn't sure if they'd be able to go. Bebe was a little disappointed, and a bit hurt. Were they using the farm as an excuse not to go, and would they extend their lack of forgiveness to her son? Those wounds happened so long ago, but they seemed to be just below the surface in all her interactions with her parents.

She met Rain for coffee on Tuesday morning, wondering what was on her mind. Rain asked her whether she and Neil had finally managed to get away somewhere, and Bebe answered that it hadn't worked out, but they'd spent many pleasant hours watching baseball together, and would need to find a replacement activity since the season was drawing to a close. Rain expressed her surprise at Bebe's newfound interest, and then got down to business.

“I went by Mom's last Saturday. The stairs are really getting to her. And I think I might have to ask William not to bring the office home while Mom's . . . well, for now.” She sipped her coffee and gathered her thoughts. “I hate to ask him. He ought to be able to rehash the day
when he gets home from work, but it jump-starts Mom's imagination about this coworker of his.”

“William would understand, Rain. He probably doesn't realize the impact it's having on her.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure he knows,” she said ruefully. “It's not something she would keep to herself. That's why I don't want to ask him. If he knows and he's bringing it up to irritate her, I would just be meddling in their affairs.”

“I think you need to be honest with him. They've been together for a long time, and it would be a shame if he had regrets later.”

Rain curled a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I guess you're right. I just need to find the right time.”

“I've been meaning to ask you whether Jude's had any contact with her own mother. Whether she knows about Jude's condition.”

“Shirley's got dementia. Mom sends money to a nursing home in Florida, but I don't think they've spoken since I was in high school.”

“That's too bad,” Bebe said, thinking
for you.

“Frankly, after being an alcoholic for so many years, I'm surprised she's still alive.”

“She must be made out of tough stuff.”

Rain chewed her bottom lip. “There's something I wanted to ask you about.” She glanced around at the people. “I'm just not sure this is the place to ask it.”

“That sounds serious,” Bebe said. “Why don't we find a table outside that's more private?”

Rain stood up and gathered her purse, and they moved outside to a secluded table. The October morning was pleasant though cool, but the metal seats were still chilled from the temperature drop during the night.

When they were settled, Rain said, “Well, there are really two things I wanted to ask you.” She pinched the lip of her coffee cup and left an indent. “One is that I wondered whether you had trouble getting pregnant with the boys.”

Bebe felt a bit surprised. “The hard part wasn't getting pregnant, it
was carrying them. I don't know if you knew, but I had several miscarriages back when you were in high school.”

“I figured it out. Did you ever find out why?”

Bebe paused to phrase her words. It wouldn't be welcome news.

“Well, yes. The truth is that it was a bit late for me to start having children naturally.” Bebe glanced at Rain. “I was thirty-seven.”

Bebe let the truth of it sink into Rain, whom she could tell was trying to remain unfazed. Finally, Rain asked, “But you didn't use in vitro, or anything?”

“No, we didn't. Like I said, fortunately for us, getting pregnant wasn't the hard part. We got lucky. Women are all different, and there are lots of factors that determine whether a woman can carry a healthy baby later in life.” Bebe gave a grim chuckle. “Thirty-seven doesn't seem ‘late in life,' does it?”

Rain shook her head.

Bebe ventured, “Have you undergone any tests?”

“I haven't gotten that far, but I have an appointment with a fertility specialist in a few weeks.”

Bebe wanted to ask the obvious, which was whether or not she and Hayden had made any headway in reconciling, or what she would do for a father, but she kept it to herself.

After a period of silence, Rain changed the subject. “The other thing I wanted to ask is whether you remember my mom dating an artist in college. She said my father might have been some guy who came to the college showing an exhibit, but she was pretty vague about it.”

Bebe sat back in her chair and thought. Jude had prided herself on how many guys she'd known at school, but there was only one with whom she had formed a brief attachment.

“I couldn't really say for sure,” Bebe said. “There was one that your mom really liked, but that doesn't make him your father. He wasn't an artist.”

Rain brightened. “Do you remember his name?”

Bebe thought hard. It seemed like such a long time ago. “Let's see. It might have started with a J. Or a G.”

“Would you recognize his picture or the other guy's art if you saw it?”

“Possibly. Do you have pictures?”

“No, but I think Mom might be searching an alumni website. It was in her browser, and when I asked her about it, she got pretty touchy.”

“Why do you want to know after all these years?”

Rain glanced off to the side and shrugged. “I guess I didn't care so much before. I believed her when she said I didn't need a father. At least, I wanted to. And I had William.” She watched a mother and child enter the Starbucks. “But now I'm not so sure.”

Bebe watched the expression play on her face. “You know, Rain, it's not easy raising a child by yourself.”

Rain pursed her lips in irritation. “Women do it all the time.”

“I'm not saying it can't be done. I'm saying it's hard enough at times with two parents. A single mom never gets a break.”

“Are you saying you won't support me?”

Bebe gave her a gentle, chastising look. “Of course, we would. But we can't take off work when the baby is sick, or take turns walking the floor at night if he's colicky. We can't make decisions for you, and it's difficult to raise a child on one income.”

“Women do it all the time.”

“All right,” Bebe said, sitting back and sighing. “I'll take a look at the website, if you want me to. What will you do if I find him?”

“Nothing, probably.” She put the plastic lid back onto her cup. “If I did ever contact him, it wouldn't be while Mom's alive.”

Bebe nodded. “You're right. It would be a good idea to wait.”

Rain gathered her cell phone and keys, saying that she would be late for work. They got up and tossed their trash as they headed toward their cars.

Bebe felt an overwhelming grief for Rain and her impending loss, and she didn't want her to feel like they didn't support her. Soon she would be without a parent. Bebe worried that Rain might face rejection if her biological father was located.

“I can understand why you'd want to locate your dad, Rain. Especially
since you're losing the only parent you've ever had. But just be careful. He may not want to be found.”

Rain paused and hugged her neck, planting a kiss on Bebe's cheek. “Who said I'm losing the only parent I've ever had? I had four moms, and you were the best one of them all.”

Bebe gave a little wave as Rain pulled away, and got into her car. She sat in silence in the parking lot with the October chill still penetrating from the long night before.

Bebe left Dylan a message on his cell phone with the dates for Scott's graduation events to remind him to make arrangements with his professors. The plan was to drive down to San Diego on Wednesday afternoon, attend Family Day on Thursday, and return with Scott immediately after graduation on Friday. Even if her parents declined to go, it would be as special as they could possibly make it. She'd hinted to Scott in her last letter that Grandma and Grandpa might not be able to attend, just in case. She decided to ask Rain if she wanted to go.

Bebe called Mare to check on her progress with the meal planning for Jude's celebration, but Arnie answered and said she had already left for the show in Atlanta. Next, she called Toni, hoping to catch her between her Tuscany and New York trips, but was sent to voice mail. She felt time was slipping away from them, like the weight had shifted onto her shoulders alone, so she made her own lists for the celebration weekend. She needed to get the exact address of the loaner house from Toni to print out maps and to check out its proximity to shops, restaurants, and tourist spots. There were too many unanswered questions. Was the kitchen completely furnished? Should they bring cooking supplies, wood for the fireplace? Should they bring their own toilet paper?

More than their living accommodations, the purpose of the weekend weighed on Bebe. It would be so much easier to celebrate Jude's life if Bebe felt richer, instead of conflicted, for having known her. Bebe had often wondered how the three of them had fallen under her spell so completely.

October 11, 1969

 

Bebe came back from studying at the library and found the Victorian once again full of students. She could hear Creedence Clearwater Revival playing “Bad Moon Rising” as she came up the walkway. She pulled open the screen door and wove her way through the people to her bedroom where she dumped her books on her bed. Then she slipped back through to scavenge food in the kitchen, hoping to remain unnoticed, as usual.

Mare acknowledged her when she came into the kitchen and then turned her full attention back to Mr. Bloom, her art professor, who insisted they call him “Arnie.” The harsh ceiling light shone on the balding spot on the back of his head as he slouched against the counter and leaned in toward Mare. He was trying to look so cool with his top three shirt buttons undone revealing a nest of curly dark chest hair. He disgusted Bebe, and she couldn't figure out what Mare saw in him. Bebe noticed that some of the students were making jokes about him.

The Doors started singing “Light My Fire.” She heard Jude's laughter over the music and marveled at how she could be the center of any group, even though she was just a freshman. It didn't hurt that she had already established herself deep in the inner workings of the Women's Center and had attracted the attention of one of the activist seniors. Jude's outspokenness and understated sensuality was a powerful draw, and Bebe had seen her work her wiles on guys before—albeit more subtly than Toni.

“Bebe! Over here,” Jude called, and then turned to the other students. “You guys know my roommate Bebe.” Bebe had no choice but to stop and acknowledge everyone. Jude waved her over and Bebe slipped between the students to where Jude stood by the couch. She draped her arm across Bebe's shoulders. Bebe noticed that she was slightly unsteady and her breath smelled like beer.

“Bebe came here straight off the farm—”

“Vineyard,” Bebe corrected her.

Jude dismissed it with her other hand. “—vineyard. But don't get excited, 'cause she didn't bring anything to share.”

A chorus of good-natured complaints broke out.

“Even though she might have grape juice in her veins, she's no bumpkin,” she said, emphatically punctuating the last word.