Send Down the Rain(52)

That night I realized just how close. The four honeymoon cottages along the beach had become our homes. Allie lived in the first. Manuel, Javier, Peter, and Victor in the second. Catalina and the kids in the third. And I lived in the fourth. And while most would say that Rosco was my dog, I didn’t command where he spent the night. He came and went as he wished. For the last several weeks he had been staying with the hands that rubbed his tummy the most and fed him scraps from every meal.

At night, before I went to sleep, I’d walk by Catalina’s cottage and check on the kids. I’d find Rosco curled up between them, Gabby’s arm draped across his stomach. His tail would slap the bed as he’d look up at me, making no effort whatsoever to get up. I would whisper, “Stay,” and he’d lay his head back down.


PROGRESS ON THE TORNADO continued apace, and the kids and Catalina were happy as clams, but something seemed to be troubling Allie. I had a feeling I’d done something wrong, but I didn’t know what. Some of the touchy-feely tenderness was missing. At night after work, dinner, and a walk on the beach, I’d walk Catalina and the kids to their cottage, then I’d meet Allie at her cottage. She called it our porch time. Or knee time. Where we sat close enough for our knees to touch. She’d drink wine, I’d drink tea or Sprite, and we’d prop our feet on the railing and listen to the ocean and watch the moon shimmer on the water.

The attire was casual. I’d show up in jeans or shorts or whatever I’d been working in that day, and she’d meet me after a shower, smelling great, wearing a nightgown or a pair of pajamas. Legs freshly shaven. And while I can be a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to all things feminine, I did notice that the gowns and pajamas were getting shorter. Looser. Revealing more. I began to grow a little nervous.

One morning at daylight, I woke to find Allie sitting next to my bed. She was staring at me, and her coffee cup was empty. Her lips were pursed and one eyebrow hung lower than the other. My mother used to give me that same look when I was in trouble. I sat up. “What’d I do?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“About the dreams.”

“What dreams?”

“Your dreams.”

“I don’t have dreams.”

“I’ve been watching you sleep the last few nights, and, yes . . . you do.”

“Why’ve you been doing that?”

“To give Catalina a rest. She’s been sleeping on your front porch the last month or so.”

“Those aren’t dreams.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dreams are made up. Mine are memories.”

“Same difference.”

“Not if you’re me.”

“Catalina told me about a dream you had in Manuel’s trailer.”

“Yeah . . .” I scratched my head. “I’m still sorry about that.”

“What can we do about them?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question a long time.”

“Catalina says that night at her place, Rosco hopped on the bed, started licking your face and whining. He woke you up. Stopped the dream. Or memory. And you went back to sleep. She said he did that a couple times throughout the night.”

I nodded. “That’s how we met.”

She waited.

“I was up on the mountain and had dug out a hole beneath the trees. A place to sleep. Rosco found me. He’d wake me up during the nights. Stop the memories.”

“Based on what I’ve seen the last couple of nights, you need something or someone next to you.” She pointed at me, my clothes on the floor, and the fact that while I started out sleeping in clothes, I always ended up naked and in a wrestling match with my sheets.

“It helps.”

“Is this why you haven’t stayed with me?”

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

She let out a breath. “I was starting to think I was tainted.”

“Tainted?”

She shrugged. “Or you didn’t find my lace pajamas attractive.” She pushed the hair out of her face. “Like maybe I’m too old for you. Too wrinkly. Too saggy. And . . .” She glanced next door to Catalina’s cottage.

I laughed, sat on the edge of the bed, and covered myself with the sheet. “Allie . . . the reason I sleep alone has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. And while I think Catalina is beautiful, she doesn’t hold my heart in her hands.”

“So I’m not too old for you?”

“Um . . . no.”

“And you still find me somewhat attractive?”

“Um . . . yes.”

She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You telling the truth?”

“Yes.”

“How about you let me lift this sheet off you, and we’ll see if you’re telling the truth.”

I slid my hand beneath hers. “Allie-girl, you were once the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. But who you were then can’t hold a candle to who you are now.”

She blushed. “Been a long time since you called me that.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.” Another raised eyebrow. “Can I borrow your sheet? . . . My car just hit a water buffalo and . . .”