Flood, page 10
Marrying my dad never fit into that plan. Neither did getting pregnant. With me.
I was born six months after she graduated high school. My father joined the service to provide a living for us. For fifteen years of my life, we moved along the south to navy bases until we finally based in Forth Worth, Texas. Dad quickly grew in ranks and in frequent flyer miles to never-ending stupid wars I grew to hate.
From serving in the war and being in Iraq half of my life, it left my mother lonely and bored.
It took one day, one invitation to dinner after meeting Phillip, only one day, and the rest was history.
And that's when they began their affair. The next thing I knew we were upgrading our lives and moving to live with the family that was one of the wealthiest names in the country. As in billions. And as in the guy whose son I had like a diehard crush on. As in a guy I never, ever even thought in a bazillion years I’d ever meet, much less become family!
As uncomfortable it was for me, this role fit my mother like a glove. It only took her five years and she became famous in her own right from the hit show.
“You're going to love your new life. Trust me. We will go shopping and you can buy all the clothes you’ve ever wanted. You can decorate your room anyway you like. I’m going to throw you the most wonderful sweet sixteen. Just wait and see.”
My mom's entire being lit up like a Christmas tree that could be seen miles away
She’d found her golden ticket and was completely oblivious to my shrine I had of Bradley. The very shrine my friends copied and made their own version of, of the American boy toy who covered Teen Beat and Seventeen magazine.
My friends were insanely jealous when they discovered my new life plans and begged to come live with me in the summer in, squeal, the Hamptons. The squeal belonging to them, not me.
The Hampton manor was the biggest house I’d ever seen and I didn't even have to clean my room anymore. This new life was a different world with me arriving to it from a middle class military family; it was like living on planet Jupiter!
Being furious with my mother for cheating on my father and unable to live with him because he was stationed overseas, I had to move into a home with a family I knew nothing of, except that they were one of the wealthiest families in America. And oh, they had a son who just happened to be the very boy I had practically worshiped my entire eighth grade and ninth grade year.
My only hope and diversion was to throw my head in the books.
One thing I was actually excited about was the new elite private school I would attend. A closet secret admirer of Gossip Girl, it wasn’t the fashion that made me jealous of Blair and Serena, it was the education.
I loved my teachers and the passion with which they taught. It made me seriously interested in studying literature, and attending an Ivy League actually seemed like a reality and not some far-off dream.
The house was so grand and my classes so different, I hardly saw Bradley, especially since he was a junior and I a freshman. He was always getting into trouble and had to make up for his behavior with a lot of community service. Such wealth and class seemed to age him. At only seventeen, he lived more like a man in his twenties.
And the incident happened.
I shuddered thinking about it and shook my head again at the familiar memories. I made my way down the grand hall and past his bedroom. I peeked into the room. He still was an interesting person.
Horrid memory, trauma or no trauma, such strikingly good looks and body stopped me in my tracks. It was the cover of People magazine framed with Bradley on the cover as voted “most beautiful.”
I rolled my eyes. I'm sure that did wonders to his ego. I leaned in to see the date. Since I was overseas, I got to dodge the celebrity gossip magazines in the supermarket. I really had been living under a rock.
His eyes were exotic green and alluring, whispering to its admirers to take another look, to peer further. The angular nose set off his perfectly high cheek bones.
In his “30 Under 30” shoot for Forbes, his tailored suit and serious demeanor was a contrast to his shirtless photo.
Butterflies danced in my stomach, mixed apprehension, and nerves of facing him after all these years. The distance made us feel like complete strangers. Heck, we were all strangers. Guilt made its first appearance of the day waving its hand my way. I know…I know…it’s my fault for staying away from everyone….
"Watcha looking at there?" I jumped in fright and spun around. I didn't know Claire had already arrived.
Now, she loved appearing on the reality show. It showcased her super successful line and boutique in the city.
"Oh, do come here, you. Hug your sister. I still hate you for that gorgeous natural ass of yours. You know it's a shame you don't do your own shoots like these. You really could have made a killing as a model."
Her familiar French perfume knocked my senses. More guilt panged my stomach for the absentee sister I had been. Running away.
"I'm so sorry, Claire. How are you handling everything?"
She pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and swollen. "He just collapsed. Like that. No warning. No heads up. There were so many things I wanted to tell him. So many things I wanted to do to make him proud of me again."
“Oh he was proud of you. Your boutique and line are doing amazing."
"It better. I'm freaking thirty-two. At thirty-two you have your shit together. I was never like golden boy here."
She folded her arms and sighed as she stared at the wall. I wanted to console her. She did live life awhile without a mother, at the time when a daughter needed one the most. She was closer to my own mother than I was.
"It's horrid, everything Bradley has to think about today. The day his own father dies, he has to step in and take executive role and make decisions he’d rather not make."
My heart did something funny. Something stirred in me.
“Have you spoken to your mother? You know she's filming right now in Tahiti. They were seeking some sunshine. I feel awful for her. You know she really did love my father.”
More guilt paid my heart and my stomach. I never knew I would feel such feelings. I really had become a reclusive hermit, shutting off my heart because I didn't want the world to know me. All because I didn't want my life on display. I locked myself away and lived my life like a nun. Maybe it was time to change all that.
“Yeah. I mean, I’m in the middle of this really important paper and she texted me but I didn’t know it was urgent like this until I actually read the text. As soon as I did, I called her right away, but her voicemail went straight through.”
She gently placed her hand on my shoulder, a sisterly touch I missed.
“Yeah it's not easy flying from Tahiti reception wise. She should be arriving in the next twelve hours. It's okay, you know.” Her words rang to my heart and her firmer grasp caused me to jump.
“Barely seen him. It's natural to be nervous.”
“I'm fine. I'm fine.” The defenses went up.
“All I care about is you guys…Kate?”
“Yeah?”
“If there's one thing my father's death, his sudden passing, has taught me, don't let time go by. Don't make the mistake thinking time will always be there on your side.”
CHAPTER 4
Bradley
* * *
A storm was coming. One of those dangerous nor ‘easters that shuts down the city and leaves millions without power. At least a foot of snow with blizzard strength was expected in the city and citizens were warned ahead of time by the mayor to prepare their homes and families in advance, to not let freezing to death become an option, because it could be an option if one wasn’t prepared. From boarding their homes, to evacuating if need be, there was a lot to do. Evacuating was a possibility and we would all know within the next twenty-four hours from the emergency advisory out in the Hamptons.
But we Rainshaws would not have to evacuate due to our spectacular generator. The property was as dependable as a hospital during a natural disaster. My father made sure of it. If there was one thing he hated, it was chaos. I was always convinced he had prepared for the apocalypse. That or if he ever had to go into hiding from shady deals, he’d be able to survive if his enemies went as far as to barricade him in. Well, now I’d never know. Hell, I did know. Who was I kidding? The enemy did get him in the long run; he was robbed of his life, an early death. It was a heart attack, and it was stress-induced. Fucking horrible.
Such preparation on his end, however, made our family fine but the roads would not be safe to travel for all of our guests, thus we had to combine all services and funeral activities into one day. One day filled with strange hugs, stiff handshakes, stories from people I’d never see again about my father this time on the yacht, or that other time in the board room. Ah, he wasn’t the great bull shark all the time. There were moments I loved. I’d miss. The lump in my throat caught and I thought of her to appease the weight. Such emotion turned into fucking butterflies.
My overactive futuristic mind already thought about it after this full day: we’d be snowbound. We. As in she and me. In the same house. Snowbound. But I couldn’t think that far. No.
I had to get my head out of that fact and back on the present.
So we made it all a full day, then—a viewing at 9 AM, funeral at 1, and then an immediate wake at our home. I had to deal with so many schmucks who didn’t give a damn about my family, who only cared about the money my father provided.
It was an early day, one that required my best foot forward and my most stellar poker face to date while I received them all, as I stood feeling every emotion imaginable.
And then she walked into the room and stopped me in my tracks.
It was a wave of emotions I wasn’t prepared for, like one of those indie movies, where the director zooms in on her face, the lost love, the one that got away. The moment where the ambient, shoe-singer guitar sings like a glorious ethereal creature of its own right, making a grand entrance fit for a far away galaxy queen. The entire scene slowed down in my mind and my world stood still as the very woman I’d dreamt about year after year, fought so hard to forget, walked back into my life and now stood two people away from me. My sister Claire and her mother Madie softened the distance.
I caught her profile, zooming in, everyone else disappearing. She lifted her sculpted chin with a tender care before engaging in a smile to the stranger before her, receiving the handshake. She didn’t know these people. But she stood there with the grace of a queen. My eyes lasered in on her full lips dressed with a deep pink stain, lips I wanted to cover with my own, jumping this line right now and taking her in my arms, to let a long overdue welcome reveal to her not only just my feelings, but my own deep sentiments in this receiving line.
I shook my head lightly. I didn’t want to mess this moment up. I hope I didn’t just murmur something absurd.
That smile.
That always-pleasant, diplomatic smile that dazzled, warming the coldest of strangers. It had briefly aided our family so well back then. Her compassion that dressed her countenance, the genuine softness that cared about others. She never knew a stranger. She shook someone’s hand with such care and attention in the receiving line, as if they were the only person in the room. She was just the type of woman a man would want by his side.
I followed the limb with a sideways glance and took her in, head to toe. Damn, she looked good.
She looked so much…older. Refined. Her young beauty had blossomed into a gorgeous womanhood. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to become that much more attractive. Dressed in a conservative black dress, there was no hiding those curves, ever. How could someone I hadn’t seen for so long invoke such strong emotions, physical emotions? I wanted to jump this line, take her in my arms, and let a long overdue hard kiss reveal to her my feelings, relaying that I was sorry. Telling her how much I missed her.
Her long, tumbling curls shined beneath the sky lights and just the smell of her; the light fragrance of cotton with a hint of French lavender made me want to drink her in. Claire and Madie were barely enough buffer for my raging heart pounding out of control.
As she tossed her golden locks, she made that life-changing, scene-altering locking with my eyes and I went weak in my knees. If it weren’t for Peters standing in front of me waiting to receive his sentiments, I would have buckled and fallen.
“Whoa, easy there.” His firm hand steadied my near fall. “I know how these things can be. Make sure you don’t lock your knees, son. And oh, here. Add some of this to your coffee, why don’t you.” He winked and slid the flask inside my suit pocket.
I took a fresh breath of air.
“Certainly. Thank you for that tip,” I said with weary eyes.
Fuck, she looked hot.
I stole sideways glances here and there, careful to never make eye contact with her. But, oh I was looking. Hell, everyone looked at her. I didn’t think it was possible for a woman to become any more beautiful or any more desirable, but she had.
“Would you take a look at Madie’s daughter? She’s a looker.”
“I wonder if she has a boyfriend. Give her your number. Later, of course, at the wake, when it’s more appropriate.”
I caught and overheard all of the suggestions of mothers to their sons, hell, even men in their retired years. She was like a light in the midst of a very dark hour. A light I was thankful to lift my spirit, just barely. But, words, face to face? I hadn’t the strength yet to face her and obviously from the way the rest of the day went, neither did she, nor did circumstantial duties allow.
But later, as the casket dropped in the cemetery, it wasn’t just a February chill that traveled down my spine, it was the brevity of life and the meaning of it all. How quickly a man can be buried, but his legacy—that was something different that could carry on and would carry on forever.
What would mine be?
How would I be different from him?
He was a good man. Yes. But his judgment had gotten the best of him in his later years.
By the time we made it back to our home, the morning and afternoon felt like a week’s worth of activity and I felt like disappearing before the hundreds of people, many of whom were strangers. But I was now the patriarch. I needed to at least save face for a full hour. And I was able to disappear in the crowd. I didn’t feel like mingling. I felt like disappearing. The eerie howl of the outskirts of the winter hurricane was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.
I woke up and the chatter had stilled and light taps of sleet greeted my pounding head.
God, what time was it?
I grabbed my cell phone from my childhood bedside table. 2:33 AM.
For real?
Shit.
I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. And then realized the electricity was out. Fuck. How was that possible with our top-of-the-line generator?
Feeling freezing as hell, I changed my clothes and wrapped a terry cloth robe around myself. Feeling a little dizzy still from my let’s-not-remember-anything-right-now moment, I was thirsty as hell and anxious to see if I’d actually see her again. Right now.
There I was, walking the familiar hallways of my home, passing the great room, when she stopped me in my tracks again.
She was pacing, saying phrases out loud as she held a candle in one hand. The other hand held chocolate with dripping syrup that fell down her shirt on accident.
It was torture enough the way her body made me respond like a crazed animal, but that syrup dripping down her shirt between her breasts, and watching her in the dark was enough to push me over the edge. I was feet away from ripping her shirt off and licking the syrup off of her.
CHAPTER 5
Kate
* * *
I sat there in the chair tapping my pen against the desk in sudden onset writer’s block. Only 10,000 more words to go. Why oh why did I have to get sick with a God awful flu? I could barely eat or drink for a whole week, and I was set way back on my paper.
I was in the sitting room closest to the deck, the more natural side of the property. The pools and outside kitchen were around the corner. My papers, notebooks and books were scattered across the table. Never did I ever imagine writing the most important paper in my pre-doctorate career in this moment and in this place. And not just in this place, in this place that just lost electricity.
“Fuck.” I buried my head in my hands. “I thought this place was supposed to freaking be high tech enough to house the president himself,” I murmured.
Just in case, Miss Kate. Mr. Fox’s kind gesture came to mind and into my sight. He had left me a flashlight, which I thought was sweet. Now I was totally thankful.
I quickly reached for it, totally freaked out by the darkness of the mansion. Only the light of white foam from the waves seemed to come in sight. Outside the waves were angry, and the icy sleet hammered against the window. Oh, it was coming: the storm.
The storm that would… “Fuck!” I called out again. I knew what this meant. The electricity was no doubt down.
I refreshed my browser. I had my school’s digital library up and had a book I was citing and needed the next page to finish the quote. Heck, I needed every page.
“Come on…come on….” Panic flooded my chest. The browser remained completely stoic and unmoving as a stubborn cat happily curled up by a fire.
“Ugh!” I cried out a little louder than I intended as the noise ricocheted off the high ceilings.
Feeling small, I wrapped a nearby blanket around me and surveyed with the flashlight the hijacked table. Only the light of my Mac and phone lit up the darkened night with neon hues.
My word document cursor blinked at me, waiting for the next direction.
