Hope In Every Raindrop (17 page)

"How can you just ignore Kyle like this, and go on about your day as if nothing happened?" Katie’s patience was quickly turning to anger.

"I think I have a few eggs left if you'd like."

"You can abandon Kyle if you want to, but I won't," Katie said as she stomped down the steps and away from the house.

Chapter 31

Katie ran across the dirt tracks in front of the house and into what was left of the barn. For a moment she had forgotten about the fire, but as she stood in the middle of the ruined structure she let out a hushed gasp.

The once-faded red boards were black, stained with the ash of burned wood. The far right side of the barn, where the loft used to be, no longer existed, and the roof on the left side cantilevered precariously over what remained of the dog pens. 

Katie stepped through piles of splintered wood and noticed leashes, rigging, and other various tools mixed in. Some of them were burned so badly they were barely recognizable, while others were seemingly untouched. The smell of burned wood, plastic, and steel were heavy in the air around her as she walked.

She made her way through the pens until she found an overturned table. It was the same table she had seen a couple of days earlier, when she’d first discovered the loft. It was only big enough for one person to sit at, and housed two drawers on the right side. She lifted it up and turned it back on all fours, as if that small gesture might mean something to this old barn. One of the drawers was jarred open. When she bent to shut it, she noticed something inside.

She pried the drawer open with her fingers and nearly ripped it off the tracks, stumbling backward a few steps. Regaining her balance, she looked down to find the same brown book she had seen before. It seemed mostly unharmed by the fire. She picked it up and held it in front of her with two hands, almost as if she were reading a map. 

Katie folded the cover back on itself and rested against the desk as she flipped through the book.

There was an assortment of poems, and quotes, and passages. Most of them from famous writers that she recognized. Her fingers continued delicately across the pages until she found words she must have read a thousand times. Words that she had heard Doc speak. Words her father wrote.

She took a deep breath, fighting back the well of emotions and closed the book, pushing it back into the drawer.

Katie took another deep breath as she looked around the barn once more. Closing her eyes, she calmed herself. 

I need to find Kyle
.

Then, she heard a familiar rumble in the distance. She walked outside the barn, or what was left of it, until she had a clear view to the south. A gray sky was quickly turning black, blotting out the late morning light. A flash of white flickered far in the distance. A storm was coming.

And that meant she knew exactly where Kyle would be.

Chapter 32

Katie approached using the same path Kyle had shown her. When she turned the last corner down the dirt path, she expected to see him sitting underneath the large oak tree. She could picture him with his back against the thick base, his legs outstretched. Just looking out to the fields. Watching.

But as she approached, she didn’t see anyone. She walked a complete circle around the tree and then out into the field, looking as far as she could see in every direction. He wasn’t there.

He has to be here.

Katie’s mind began to race again, but she stopped herself, Kyle’s words echoing in the back of her mind.

The dogs see everything. The way you walk, the lightness or heaviness of a single step. The way you look at things, with curiosity or insecurity. Even the way you breathe. They take the time to notice the details that we often take for granted.

Katie bent to one knee and placed her hand over the cool grass as she breathed in deep and exhaled slowly, calming herself. She shook her body as chills ran from her shoulders and down her back.

Being around Kyle had changed her. She felt more intuitive, more aware.

She looked around again—at the large angel oak behind her, stretching its limbs like an old man reaching for a memory. The tulip poplars showing more yellow than a week ago. And the sourwoods, sweetgums, and dogwoods turning deep red, while the larger hardwoods had subtler changes. She could even smell the crisp autumn leaves as they fell softly amongst the blades of Carolina bluegrass that stretched down to the foothills from the distant Blue Ridge Mountains.

Her eyes settled on the tall, thin grass that poked up between her fingers, still pressed against the ground. She looked closer, the individual blades shivering at each gust of wind. Her mind hadn’t processed it yet, but she had been staring right at it for several seconds. One solitary boot print. And then another. And another.

The girl who had left California two weeks ago would have never noticed any of this. But that same girl now stood in the lowlands of South Carolina following a pair of boot prints for several feet, until she realized where they led.

The cottage.

Chapter 33

Kyle sat on the bench swing that hung from a tree limb in front of the house. He favored one side, resting his elbow on the wooden armrest, which caused the swing to hang uneven. He stared up towards the light blue sky.

He didn’t even move as Katie approached, and she wondered how long he had been sitting here. The bandage across his forehead was gone, and in its place was a jagged cut several inches long. She thought she saw his jeans bunch up where several more bandages on his legs might be.

Katie sat down next to him. Chips of brittle white paint crumbled beneath her from all the weathered years of disuse.

Kyle didn’t take his eyes off the morning sky, even as the chains groaned at the added weight. The stars were still visible in the distance, a pale white compared to the sun, trying to hold on just a little longer.

At first Katie just sat next to him quietly. Several minutes of silence passed, though the time felt longer than her entire stay. The time dragged on, until finally Katie’s heart overflowed with two simple words.

“I’m sorry.”

Kyle didn’t respond. He didn’t even acknowledge her presence. He just continued looking out into the distance. Away from the farm. Away from her.

Katie thought about just leaving him alone. The cottage was right here. She could go sit inside and wait until he was ready to talk. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe she’d made a mistake trying to find him. But the more she thought about it, the more it didn’t make any sense. Why would he come here? There were thousands of acres he could get lost in. But he was here.

Kyle stood up and took several steps forward, leaving Katie to sway uncomfortably on the bench alone.

She watched him as he stood staring into the morning sky. His hands dipped into the crest of his front pockets and his weight leaned to the right. His white and navy trucker hat was pulled down tight over his eyes. The way he looked reminded Katie of the first night she had seen him—guarded.

She dragged her feet lightly on the ground until the bench came to a stop, then stood. She took several steps, until she was next to Kyle. Without realizing it, she extended her hand and lay it on his shoulder.

Kyle’s touch was unexpected as he reached up and covered her hand with his own. She could feel the calluses that lined his palms as they slid across the back of her hand. Katie stood with him for a moment. Then, Kyle exhaled a deep breath and wrapped his hand around hers, lifting it off his shoulder. She thought back to that day in the barn.

She waited for him to push her away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he held her hand out in front of him like the beginning of a waltz. As they faced each other, he didn’t avoid her gaze.

But as Katie looked back, all she felt was guilt, and it welled up in her like a wave ready to crash on the beach at any moment. And then, it crashed.

She stepped forward, burying her head in his chest. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I’m so sorry.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as her body began to tremble.

Then, there was warmth—like stepping out of a shadow on a cool autumn day. His hands pulled her tighter against him as he wrapped his arms around her. She slid her own arms around his waist.

They stood there for several minutes before Kyle spoke. His mouth was just above her head, and his words were a gentle hum. “When I was younger, Doc used to always read to me. He’d grab books by Plato, Aristotle, Seneca, Shakespeare, or Thoreau. But no matter what he read, I always wanted to hear more Emerson. To this day I don’t think I understand half of what he wrote, but the words themselves just felt powerful. There was this one essay though.” Kyle paused, exhaling. “In it, he wrote ‘the remembrance of these visions outlasts all other visions.’”

Katie stepped back and looked up towards Kyle, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her father had loved Emerson—she knew the verse well. It was a beautiful line, full of love and hope. But when Kyle spoke the words all she felt was pain.

He lifted his cap and ran his fingers through his hair as he let out a deep breath. “I’ve been trying all morning to just remember King, but it’s like my vision of him is already fading. It means…Emerson was wrong.”

She wanted so badly to tell him that everything would be all right, but she knew those simple words would mean nothing. As she tried to think of words that would carry some meaning, she began to realize she didn’t need words at all.

Katie grabbed Kyle by the hand. “Come with me.”

She pulled him hard enough that he almost tripped over his own boots. Katie felt him try to resist, but she wouldn’t allow it. She had an idea. And she believed it to be a good one.

Chapter 34

Kyle almost tripped again as Katie pulled him up the stairs and into the cottage. She let go of his hand and walked over to the dining room table.

Katie watched him look around the room at all her papers, sticky notes, pads, and pictures spread all over the place. She half expected him to start organizing all the piles into nice neat stacks.

Writing isn’t a process. It’s a mess.
That was one of the first things her father taught her.
The sooner you realize this is about to be a disaster, the sooner you can get over it and just write.

In Katie’s mind, it was shaping up to be a beautiful mess. Each pile made up a single scene. There were a little over twenty scenes; eventually, she would piece them all together and then fill in the gaps. For now, though, it was all about just getting it down. Whenever she was in a flow, she’d usually type on her laptop. Random thoughts were scribbled on sticky tabs, and if she was away from her laptop she’d write in her own made-up shorthand on a spiral notepad she always carried. Most of the pictures she’d taken were on her phone, but she kept a portable printer with her, as well. She liked to put a picture on the top of each pile. It helped her visualize the scene.

The dining room table wasn’t quite big enough for all her scenes, so she’d moved some to the kitchen counter and some to the couch in the living room just a few feet away.

Katie could feel Kyle’s eyes on her as she walked around each pile, picking through them and then tossing them back, like an old lady at a grocery store trying to find the perfect peach.

“Here it is,” she said. She walked over to Kyle, who had pulled out a chair at the table and was looking from pile to pile. Most of the pictures were of his dogs. There were Biscuit, Belle, and the pups lying on the porch. Story and Link on their hind legs play fighting, and Olympia and Giza curled up asleep like soft springs.

Then Katie set another photo down in front of Kyle.

***

A tightening sensation gripped Kyle’s throat. In the photo, Kyle knelt in front of the barn. King was standing on his hind legs, his forepaws resting on Kyle’s shoulders. His mouth was closed and his ears lay flat against his head as he stared down at Kyle.

Kyle pressed his fingers against the picture as Katie watched. “I asked Doc why you did that once,” Katie said.

“Did what?” Kyle said, not even looking up from the image in his hands.

“Doc said you called it ‘hand over heart’?”

Kyle let out a deep breath. He didn’t want to explain how aggressive King had been towards other dogs—and people—when Kyle raised him; how he had killed a coyote that approached the barn one evening, and had bitten Doc on several occasions.

“It was the only way I knew to calm the dogs.”

Katie seemed to consider his answer, pacing several steps around the kitchen. He knew she had more questions—she always did. They rolled off her tongue like a jumble of words that she just had to say or she might forget. “How exactly does it work? In the field that one day, I saw you whisper something to each of the dogs, right?”

The scraping sound of wood against wood echoed lightly around the dining room as Kyle pushed the chair back from the table and stood. He walked over towards Katie, leaning against the kitchen counter. She straightened nervously as he stood in front of her.

For the second time that day, his hand reached for hers. Katie took several small steps backward until she bumped into the kitchen counter.

His eyes moved from her eyes to her hand as he placed her palm on the left side of his chest. He covered her hand with his and pressed it against his chest, holding it there until she could feel the slow rhythm of his heart.

“Doctors used to check the heart by simply putting an ear on the patient’s chest. They would listen for two distinct sounds, a ‘lub,’ followed by a ‘dub.’”

Kyle tapped his fingers over Katie’s hand for several beats, her soft skin brushing against his. .

“That was about as scientific a term as you’d get a couple hundred years ago. But make no mistake, they knew what to listen for. The ‘lub’ is the sound of the first set of heart valves closing. The ‘dub’ is the sound of the second set closing. “