Heaven Sent Rain Read online

  A whimper and a paw under soulful brown eyes found his arm. “Good morning, SoandSo. I know you were waiting patiently.” He scrubbed his yellow Lab’s soft ears with one hand while rubbing his own eyes with the other. For some odd reason, his eyes felt not sandy but gravelly. “I sure hope you put the coffee on, since someone we know forgot again.” The thuds of two tails assured him they had.

  SoandSo and her brother Sam sat glued shoulder to shoulder, both quivering, ready to explode ahead of him toward the kitchen. TC, their tiger cat, yawned and stretched from his place of honor at the foot of the bed, unrolling her pink tongue and eyeing her best friends as only a superior feline can.

  “I get it. I get it. I…” They froze, waiting for his next move. “Am.” Four front feet padded the rug. “Coming.” As he leaped to his feet, the dogs exploded out the door and down the hall, in full barking cry. The cat rolled his eyes and yawned again.

  He laughed at the morning ritual. How could one ever wake up grumpy around here? Garret followed the thundering horde to his kitchen. The birds screamed and trilled from the aviary.

  Humming while the coffee brewed, he filled dog dishes and opened a tin of real salmon for TC, who was just padding through the doorway. Garret was sure the haughty feline waited until the scent of an open can wafted his way. One time Garret had not followed the routine and he had paid royally. No one knew how to get even like a cat.

  All the other residents of the house cared for, he carried his mug of perfect coffee with just the right amount of half-and-half back up the stairs, and within fifteen minutes he’d showered and done all the prep to dress for church. His concession to fashion was khakis, a button-down shirt, extra long, and a needing-to-be-replaced sport coat. His loafers needed polishing.

  A wet brush to the newly shorn hair, and he headed for the car, whistling as he went. The animals lined up to say goodbye, so he patted each head and clicked open the garage door as he strode to the SUV. It was Sunday morning, he had his strip done, the picture of Jonah under his arm, and if he had any sense he would make sure he did not go by the clinic on this, his day of rest.

  “Good morning, Garret.” John Hanson, Bible Study leader extraordinaire, greeted all his class members as they quickly filled the room. It was time for them to move again to a larger location, but the only alternative now was the sanctuary, the problem being how to get people shuffled around and not have to change service times. For some odd reason, the suggestion of changing the later service from ten to ten-thirty caused ire in a lot of worshipers.

  Right on the moment, with a military precision that indicated John’s background, he stood smiling at the front of the room. “Good morning and welcome to our study. Please turn to Acts, chapter five.” Instead of a lot of pages flipping, most of those attending took out their iPads or e-readers and waited expectantly.

  “Let us pray.”

  Garret, iPad in his lap, closed his eyes and exhaled all tension away.

  “We are here, our Lord God, to learn of You, so that we can give You honor and glory to Your mighty name. Speak to us as You always do, into our hearts and minds, what we, each one of us, needs to hear today.”

  The almost-an-hour disappeared, those who had been to the early service staying for a Q-and-A while the others hustled to the sanctuary. Those ushering had left earlier.

  Garret bowed his head with the others for Pastor Hagen to pray before his sermon. “Lord, let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable.…”

  The eyes grabbed him.

  As if she were standing right in front of him.

  He flinched, fighting to hear the words of his pastor. “Lord God above, we give You all our thanks and praise. Amen.”

  A lightning shaft of fear shot through him. Garret exhaled as if sucker punched, afraid to open his eyes. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Was he going totally berserk?

  “We all suffer from fear.”

  Garret snapped to attention. There went his pastor again, reading his mind.

  “That is why God says repeatedly, “Fear not!” He paused, giving his congregation time to shake their heads. “I know what you’re thinking. First, some of you are a bit smug as you tell yourself that you are not afraid of anything. You are so proud that you are not afraid.”

  Some people began to squirm, Garret one of them.

  “I have news for you, two things that I know you will not consider good news.” Again a pause. The man was a master at timing. His voice dropped. “God loves you so much that He will show you what fear is so you can be healed.”

  And the second, surely the second is easier. Garret leaned forward. Surely this could not be so. He was afraid of a woman. A woman he had only just met, who had done nothing to evoke his fear. She was still just a woman.

  Admit it, women have always frightened you, some more than others.

  Garret slammed the door on that line of thinking and pasted a sort-of smile on his face. He locked his arms over his chest and stared at one of the stained-glass windows. The Shepherd’s window. Not a good choice.

  He knew he missed a bunch of words; he hoped all the ones that would eat into his protective shield.

  “And the second: some of us are so fear-ridden that we are often unable to function. Anxiety attacks, panic, physical ailments, fear causes an adrenaline rush every time, and after a while your body can’t do the fight-or-flight any longer and it begins to break down. All of us fall into one camp or the other, so God says fear not.”

  Having his arms crossed over his chest kept Garret from slithering into a puddle on the floor. Just get through this. You don’t ever have to come back here, you know.

  Where had that come from? How dare he even consider that?

  “But God never gives us a command without giving us the tools to carry it out.”

  Study the hymnal, the collar of the man in front of you, the floor, the scuff on your loafers.

  Time must have passed, because he heard Pastor Hagen say, “Let us pray.”

  He prayed, they sang a hymn, and then came the benediction. “The Lord bless and keep thee.”

  Right.

  A silence stretched for an hour before the organ and the musicians broke into the exit music. Garret stood, sure he was shaking. Were others reeling, or was he the only one?

  A woman he’d known for years greeted him in the aisle. “Oh Dr. G, I am so glad to see you. I want to introduce you to my niece, who is visiting.” She turned to the woman beside her, who wore the same embarrassed expression he was trying to make sure did not show on his face. How many relatives did this matchmaker have to trot out?

  “Hello, Miss Grayson, glad to meet you.”

  “Dr. G is our resident veterinarian. The two of you have so much in common. Elizabeth just loves animals, too—don’t you dear?” She gushed on.

  Garret nodded, smiled, acted nice, and wanted to run screaming. “How long will you be in Eastbrook?”

  Was that a spark of devilment dancing in her eyes? “I’m thinking of moving here. Auntie Jane has been on a job search for me, and her efforts just might be panning out.”

  Her gaze skittered away, so he used the opportunity to excuse himself and introduce her to the couple behind him, hoping and praying they would step up. They did. Someone else called his name, he smiled an apology or excuse, and turned away. But not before he caught a glimmer of relief in her gaze, or had he? He continued down the aisle, asking the correct questions and answering others as they moved toward the front door.

  Maybe he might call her after all. She seemed personable enough. Did she really love all kinds of animals, or just loveable animals? What if he said he raised snakes and spiders?

  Burky called, “Hey, Garret, going to join us for lunch? The Bunch is adjourning to the Cuppa.”

  Ask her along. Whatever for? Good Lord, what is happening to me? The Bunch usually did go out for lunch, so what was the big deal? “I need to drop something off at the clinic first.”
/>   If Susan catches you there, she will order you drawn and quartered. If Dinah Taylor was there, he would order it himself.

  “On second thought, sure.” He’d deliver the drawing later. “Anyone need a ride?”

  “You might ask that new person over there; she’s coming along. I saw you talking with her. Give me a minute.” Burky motioned to Garret to wait and went to Elizabeth, who nodded, glanced over at him, and only paused a moment before nodding again.

  Once they were in the car, she turned to him. “I’m sorry. Aunt Jane has a tendency to manipulate, but she really has a great heart and wants the best for everyone concerned. I can’t convince her that I already have a boyfriend, and—”

  Garret busted out laughing. “And we play along to satisfy Auntie and heave a huge sigh of relief that we got her off our backs?”

  She chuckled. “Thank you for being so observant. I do hope to move here. Artie is looking for a job here, too, and, God willing, we’ll finally be able to get married. Nothing is final yet, but then what in life really is?”

  They enjoyed the conversation, and she fit well into the Bunch, made up of an assortment of singles, marrieds, good friends, and acquaintances. The Bunch had a good time no matter who showed. Today when they were gathered in their usual room at the Cuppa, someone commented, “If that wasn’t the most powerful sermon he has ever preached, I don’t know what is.”

  “Powerful, right, but he sure raked us over the coals.”

  “No, he didn’t. Like always, he…”

  The discussion continued in bits and pieces as the Bunch went through the buffet line, regathered, talked, and, finally, left.

  Garret forced himself to make all the appropriate noises, his mind in turmoil. He dropped Miss Grayson off at her auntie’s, then locked himself into auto mode. He was almost home when he pulled over to the side of the street because he was shaking too much to drive.

  Was this the fight-or-flight Pastor Hagen had talked about, or was something else happening that he had no control over? Was it the Taylor woman, or someone else in the depths of his memories?

  He was supposed to be a rational adult. Why was he so screwed up? Or did he know the answer and was just too stubborn to face it?

  Chapter Eight

  The stains would not come off the sofa. At all.

  Dinah had tried every product in the house, gone out for more, and still only managed to turn the mud and blood into a series of large blotches that glared at her from the pristine white. Give it a rest. It is only a stain, after all. It will come out with something. The mud prints from the carpet had faded; surely when dry they would be gone completely or easily brushed away.

  Even while giving herself good advice, she scrubbed on. She had promised to pick Jonah up at five to go help Mutt eat. Talk about a stubborn dog. At least they could bring her home tomorrow. But could Corinne take care of the dog while Jonah went to school? How did they usually manage? Of course all depended on what kind of care Mutt needed.

  Stepping back, Dinah studied the stains. Any better, or was she only making things worse? Maybe the answer was to hire a professional cleaner.

  Her intercom bleeped and she answered. Horace, the condo manager. “Miz Dinah, you better not be leaving. There’s one of those news vans out on the curb and some blonde lady with a microphone. The hyenas are gathering for the kill.”

  “She’s no lady. I have to take Jonah to the vet soon.”

  “Mr. Hal, he said stay put.”

  “But!” Rage reddened her vision. A prisoner in her own home? “Thank you.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “No, not that I know of, other than sic those people on someone else.”

  “I wish. They’re trampling all over the plants, and people who live here get a mic shoved in their face. Not good.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault.”

  And she got an idea. “Streets and sidewalks are public, but your flowers sure aren’t. How about calling the police and accusing the whole lot of trespassing? You even have proof.”

  The manager cackled. “I’ll do that.” He hung up.

  Hitting speed dial, she bypassed polite greetings and burst out, “I’ve got to pick up Jonah to go see Mutt.”

  Hal’s patient voice: “Dinah…”

  “She won’t eat if he’s not there and that will make him frantic and that will make his mother frantic and—”

  “Dinah! Enough!” Hal never raised his voice.

  “Sorry.” She swallowed hard. “Hal, I’m frustrated. The vultures are out there interviewing people who know nothing whatever, they’re so desperate. If it’s big news, why didn’t they come to the launch?”

  Hal snorted. “That’s right; I told you not to watch television. Maybe you should have. The press has distorted the picture dangerously. You and all your promotions and ads say it’s a dietary supplement that can help people feel better. They’re claiming you said it can cure diabetes. They don’t even specify type. They’re making, or manipulating, their news, Dinah. Sensationalism.”

  “What happens if the FDA thinks I said that?”

  “Right.” Hal paused. “Shame I have never met Jonah, or I could pick him up.”

  She sighed. True. “I’d call, but I don’t have his phone number.”

  “Look on your phone.”

  “It’s blocked.”

  “Oh. Tell you what. I’ll go meet him and tell him who I am, and if he—”

  “His dog’s real name is Downmutt. Tell him that you are taking him to feed Downmutt and he will go with you. And will you buy something for him to take to his mother for supper, please?” Although they probably still had most of that chicken.

  “Yes ma’am. At your service.”

  “Thank you, Hal.” Her throat clogged and all she could do was sniff. “And incidentally, why aren’t they bugging you, like we asked? You’re the one who always knows the right thing to say.”

  “I’m not photogenic. Or intriguing. Or the boss of the company that’s going to cure the world of diabetes.”

  She sighed. “How could such a thing get so twisted?”

  “Don’t worry, Dinah. It will blow over. The press has a very short memory. I’ll take care of the dog thing. How you’ll get to work tomorrow is another story.”

  “We’re supposed to pick up the dog in the morning.”

  A sigh from that end. “I see.” She thought she heard him mutter “Please, God, get us through this” as she hung up.

  Pacing the living room, she called herself all kinds of names (unjustly; it wasn’t she who’d stretched the truth beyond breaking), peered out from a crack in the blinds to watch the mob below. The police had backed them off the property, but they still crowded the sidewalk. Was this what a shark feeding frenzy looked like? Maybe she should just go down there, talk to them, answer what questions she wanted to. Or maybe Hal could set up a time in the morning for a press conference. After all, what could they do but harass her? She had nothing to hide.

  And a worse thought struck. If they were so cavalier about the truth, would they listen to what she said? Almost surely not. They would twist her words into whatever they thought would shock and intrigue. She had released a product that could be beneficial. She could see that the unvarnished truth would not be glitzy, sensational, or even newsworthy.

  Surely Hal had thought of all this. He of all people understood. They’d discussed it. But his dire predictions dealt primarily with pharmaceutical companies who might feel threatened by her product if it reduced the need for their lucrative drug regimens. The other side of her mind asked gently, Is Hal known for overstatement or understatement? Had he ever made a bad judgment call?

  Of course he had; no one could live in this world without making mistakes. She just had no immediate recollection of any in the time they’d worked together. Or she’d just never heard about them. There were lots of plausible answers.

  She peeked out the window again. Had the crowd
thinned a little? Another news van pulled up, this one with a satellite dish on the roof. The side was emblazoned with an ad for the local technical college.

  Waiting was worse than anything. Pacing, checking email, pacing, checking the window, pacing. What was the matter with her? This was insanity.

  “Ah, darlin’, you need to be prayin’.” Her gramma’s voice slid around her, warm and comforting like the shawl she sometimes used to snug Dinah to her side. She’d not heard that voice for twenty years, ever since the day Gramma went into a diabetic coma and left. Dinah had sat weeping at her bed. She had quit praying that day. Praying to a God who claimed to be real and wasn’t was not only a waste of time but a fantasy that she no longer bought.

  The only one to depend upon was herself. Immediately names and faces bombarded her. True, she depended on her whole team. More family than business colleagues, together they had accomplished the miraculous on so many levels. She knew there was no way to repay them but to keep on creating products so that all their jobs were secure.

  Snatching up her ringing cell, she saw Hal’s number and hit the answer button. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course I am okay, and here is a young man who wants to talk with you.”

  “Dinah?”

  Her day brightened instantly. “Hi, Jonah. How is she? Did she eat?”

  His grin swam through the ether to her. “We can pick her up after ten in the morning and Mommy said to tell you thank you and she, not Mommy but Mutt, can stand up now and she licked my face and…” He stopped to catch a breath. “And Mr. Hal is really nice. We’re getting pizza for supper.”

  Dinah restrained the groan. She knew Hal did not like pizza; but then he did not have to eat it, just buy it. “You tell him thank you for me, too, please.”

  “I will, but how will you get past those people? Dr. G has a TV on in the waiting room and we saw on the TV out in front of your building.”

  “You let Mr. Hal and me worry about that. I will get you to the vet tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, and D-Mutt thanks you, too. Oh, and Mrs. Miller said to tell you— er, I mean the other Dr. Miller. Dr. G wasn’t there but she says he will be in in the morning to sign the papers so we can bring Mutt home.”