Raising Rain (44 page)

Bebe discovered that Scott had seemed uncomfortable around her because he was afraid she would be angry that he passed her letter along to Bobby. He'd avoided discussing it with her for that very reason. She hugged him and thanked him for following his intuition, and he said that he never doubted her support, but joked that if she joined another protest, he would track her down.

Once she felt better about Bobby and Scott, ideas to fix Jude's botched Celebration came more easily. She arranged to have a conference call with Mare and Toni and discussed several ideas with them. They finally reached an agreement on one idea in particular and decided to follow through, with or without Jude's blessing. Bebe agreed to be the one to tell Jude. She called William and arranged a time on Saturday when she could come by. He said Jude really wasn't up to visitors, and it had to be brief.

Bebe didn't ask Rain if she wanted to go along. There were some things she felt she needed to say to Jude alone. She pulled up to the house and said a prayer before going in. William met her at the door, speaking quietly, and cautioning her that Jude was failing.

They had made arrangements with a hospice nurse. Against Jude's wishes, the hospice nurse had advised William to move Jude to a bedroom downstairs so that he could keep a constant watch on her and hear if she needed anything at night.

He told Bebe that he'd recently administered one of her strong medications and that her conversation might not make sense when it completely kicked in. He pushed the door open and let Jude know that Bebe was there.

The room smelled strongly of urine and medications, and medical equipment waited in the corner of the room. Bebe was surprised at how quickly Jude had declined in two weeks, as though she'd gone home from the Celebration weekend and given up. Her facial skin now stretched over her bones, thin and transparent. Bebe tried to keep her countenance in check, but Jude's mind was sharper than her body.

“It must be bad,” she said, taking shallow breaths. “William took the mirror away.”

Bebe pulled up a chair beside the bed. “I'm sorry about the weekend, Jude. Things got kind of crazy. It must have been disappointing for you.”

Jude managed a brief, sad smile. “Like old times.”

Bebe smiled back, in spite of herself. “It came pretty close.”

“It wasn't all bad, was it?” Jude asked.

“The weekend? No.”

Jude shook her head minutely. “The Victorian.”

“Oh.” Memories of a young, vivacious Jude came to her mind. “No, there were some good times. There was Rain. I'm thankful for that.” Bebe hesitated, and then added, “Jude, I've been thinking about our conversation at the aquarium.”

The frown lines on Jude's forehead deepened. “Don't want any sermons.”

“I'm not going to preach any. But I'm open for conversation.”

“Already had one with your God.” Jude licked her lips. “Intend to finish it in person.”

Surprised by her admission, Bebe started to speak but Jude added firmly, punctuating each word, “End of discussion.” Jude took a deeper breath and licked her parched lips. “Ice, please.”

Bebe took the cup of crushed ice from her nightstand and spooned some into her mouth. Jude sucked on it.

“I came to tell you about the cause we decided on,” Bebe said.

Jude raised her eyebrows.

“You know Toni's husband, Lawrence, gets grant money for colleges. Well, he's going to help us set up an endowment in your name to help young women have money for college. The principal is never spent, so each year the interest is given out as scholarship money. We'll figure out ways to add to the principal each year so it will grow, and we need to discuss the criteria for selecting recipients.”

Jude's brows knitted together. “Only for women's studies.”

“We'll consider it. But young women need to be able to make their own choices. You leave that up to us. We'll pull Rain in on it, too.”

Jude ran her tongue over her lips. “I hurt a woman once.”

“Jude, how did you hurt a woman?”

“Won a case. Denied her settlement. She had a child.” Her face twisted briefly until she struggled and won composure. “It was wrong.”

Bebe was touched by another breach in Jude's vulnerability and sensed that this was her last opportunity to speak frankly with Jude in private.

“Jude, I need to apologize to you,” she began, finding it more difficult than she'd expected, yet sensing the urgency. “Back when Rain was born, I felt so guilty and so responsible for losing the baby, that I wanted Rain for my own, like a surrogate. But that was no way to make it right. Sometimes I stole the affection she should have given to you. I tried to be her mother, for all the wrong reasons.”

Jude closed her eyes momentarily and Bebe could see her medication was taking effect. Then her face drew up as if in pain, and Bebe almost
called for William, but she spoke again with effort. “He said to do what I wanted (breath) with the baby.” Tears ran from the corners of her eyes.

Bebe cast about for the meaning to her words, fearing the tenuous opening into her feelings would close. “You mean Rain's father?”

She nodded lazily.

“Who was it, Jude?”

She barely shook her head against the pillow. “He was no good father.”

Bebe understood. Jude didn't want Rain to know who her father was because he wasn't a good father. She thought it was better not to know, than to burden Rain with that image of being unwanted.

“We had the right to decide.” She took several breaths. “About our bodies.”

Bebe waited.

“Mine betrayed me.”

Then Jude drifted off to sleep, her breath fluttering. Bebe sat for a long time in the silence, listening to her shallow breathing, asking for mercy for this woman who birthed the daughter they shared. How different their lives would have been if Rain's father had loved her mother.

Bebe laid her hand gently on top of Jude's in farewell. As she was leaving, she noticed a small booklet with a pastoral scene on the cover lying on Jude's nightstand. Bebe glanced at Jude, then picked it up and flipped through to discover it was a collection of devotions from Scripture for people suffering with illness. It was slightly frayed and dogeared. Jude's comments came back to her about the conversation she'd had with God, and Bebe hoped it meant she had found her peace.

She came out wiping her eyes and William put his hand on her shoulder. “It's hard,” he said, pulling out his handkerchief.

“Do you think she'll remember when she wakes up?”

“Probably only the parts when she was most coherent.”

He walked her to the door. “She wants to be cremated and her ashes scattered in the bay.”

Bebe nodded. “Yes, she mentioned that.”

“She's already arranged everything for a ceremony under the Golden Gate Bridge.” He paused with the door open. “I don't know what went on over that Celebration weekend, but she came back and made her arrangements the very next day.”

Bebe promised to keep in touch, and she left. In spite of her heavy loss, Bebe felt a lightness for having apologized to her and a freedom that Jude held no apparent grudges, which was ironic because Bebe's liberation was what Jude had fought for all along.

R
ain arranged for time off from work to stay with her mother. She could tell William was glad to have her help and companionship, and a chance to take a break from the situation when he needed to. Rain was even able to communicate to her mom how she wished the Celebration weekend had turned out differently, and take small steps toward mending their relationship.

On New Year's Eve, Rain watched the ball drop in New York on television and felt alone in the world. The crowd cheered and confetti snowed down on the streets. Outside the house, car horns blew and firecrackers popped. She picked up her cell phone and debated about calling Hayden. What if he wasn't alone? If he was at a party at that moment, he would never hear it ring, anyway. But he had called her on Christmas Day. He had made first contact—taken a risk. She scrolled down the contact list to his name, and pushed Send.

He didn't pick up, so she left a brief message wishing him a Happy New Year. A moment later, he called her back.

“Rain?”

“Hayden.”

“Did you just call?”

“Yes, I left you a message. Just Happy New Year. That's all.”

“Oh. Happy New Year.”

A moment of silence followed, and she feared he would hang up. “I'm with my mom,” she said.

“How is she?”

“I don't think she has much time left.”

“Yes, I heard. I'm sorry.”

“How did you know?”

“Neil phoned me. He's a good guy.”

Silence hung like a veil between them. Rain wondered what they had talked about.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“No. But thanks. William is here. And there's a hospice nurse on call.”

“Are you okay?”

If she were with him, if they were still together, she would have told him everything. “Yes, I'm okay. It's late. I should let you go.”

“Thanks for calling.”

“Wait—Hayden? We don't have to sell the house.”

His voice was guarded. “Oh? What's happened?”

She realized he must think she didn't need it because she'd gotten pregnant. “Nothing. Nothing's happened. I . . . it's just not a good time, and it's not fair to make you sell it in a bad market.”

“Well, if you're sure. If you don't need the money.”

“I don't know what I need. But it's just not the time.”

She gathered her courage. “One more thing.” She took a deep breath. “Could you tell me . . . am I passive-aggressive?”

After a moment of silence, he stumbled. “Well, not . . .” He cleared his throat. “I . . . I guess you could say that sometimes—”

“It's okay,” she interrupted. “You don't have to say any more. Latoya offered me a job promotion because of it. She thinks it's my defining characteristic.”

She heard him put on his professional voice. “Passive-aggressiveness can be a valuable tool—”

“When working with attorneys?”

He gave a small chuckle. “Most definitely.”

“Well, I wish I could say that's where I learned it, but we both know that's not true.” She felt her inner calm slipping. “I'll let you go. I think I hear Mom.”

“I wish you the best, Rain.”

“Me, too.”

After they hung up, she curled up on the couch with a blanket, not even bothering to go to the spare bedroom. The next morning, William woke her to say that Jude appeared to have lapsed into a coma and he'd called hospice. She lasted two more days, and on the third, Rain called Bebe at 5:00 a.m. to say that Jude was gone.

Bebe called Toni and Mare and let them know that Jude had passed away, and that the cremation service was scheduled in two weeks in San Francisco. She warned Toni to wear flats.

Bebe stopped by Rain's unannounced to see how she was doing. She found her at the kitchen table sifting through a box of old photos. Bebe pulled out a chair.

“William found these in Mom's closet,” she said. Her face was blotchy and red.

She pulled a photo out of the box and passed it to Bebe. In the picture, Rain sat on Bebe's lap with traces of icing on her face and in her hair. Jude stood in the background with her back to them. The long phone cord was wrapped around her waist and she cradled the phone at her neck.

“Your first birthday.” Bebe smiled. “Toni took this one.” Bebe was surprised that Jude had kept it.

“Here's another.” Rain pulled out a photo of a very young Neil holding her in his arms.

“He looks so much like Dylan in this picture,” Bebe said. “I never realized.”

Rain passed Bebe a photo of her and Neil smiling for the camera. “Hayden called me.”

Bebe looked up. “Oh?”

“On Christmas night. Just to say Merry Christmas.”