Greg Weisman - Rain of the Ghosts

“Thanks, you guys,” Miranda said. “I mean, thanks for coming today.”

Charlie shrugged, “Free boat, good weather.”

And Rain, “You did make it hard.” They all laughed again.

Maq was down on the beach, bumming French fries off the tourists, but I wanted to see this in person, so I was watching from about twenty yards down the dock when Ariel eased the boat into its slip. The kids all jumped down as one to tie it off. Rain was saying, “You know the End of Summer Party is Sunday night at the N.T.Z…. unless it rains.”

Charlie piped in, “Yeah, Miranda, you should meet us there… unless it rains.”

Miranda positively beamed. “Thanks. I think I will… unless it rains.” It was all very sweet and nice to see, but that wasn’t why I had come.

Another voice, an adult voice, said, “Rain.”

Rain was still smiling when she turned toward her father. But the smile quickly froze. The guitars in her head went silent. Alonso Cacique was standing on the dock, standing as if he had been waiting there for some time. He lowered his head sadly.

“Dad…?”

Charlie and Miranda straightened up. Ariel’s head turned half an inch.

Rain walked toward her father. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He put his arm around her and whispered something too low for the rest of us to hear. Immediately, Rain began to cry, softly, as if somewhere deep inside her she had already known (and what Alonso had said was mere confirmation). Miranda and Charlie exchanged a concerned glance. They didn’t have any idea what to do, what was wrong or how to comfort their friend. I had considerably more information, but I felt guilty being there. An intruder. Maq had been right to stay away. This wasn’t our business really. Not this part. The saving grace was that they hadn’t seen me yet. I spun around and trotted off toward the beach. Maq’d have a sympathetic smile for me and maybe even a hot dog. And he almost never said, “I told you so.” It was one of his finer, less human, qualities.

Alonso brought his daughter home, double-parking his battered jeep in front of the Inn. He stared straight ahead and inhaled deeply. This was hard for him too. He knew he had to stay strong for Iris and for Rain, but it was very hard for him too. He said, “I need to find a place to park. Do you want to—”

Rain jumped out of the car before he could finish. She ran wildly up the four steps and practically crashed her way through the front door and inside. In similar fashion, she raced up the stairs. Tears had given way to sobs, and she was having trouble catching her breath. At the head of the stairs, she froze. The smallest gasp escaped her lips.

Callahan, the world’s scariest tourist, was standing with his hand on the knob of her bedroom door. Going in? Coming out? It wasn’t clear. He saw her there, and fumfered out: “Wait. Ain’t my room. Got turned around.”

Silent, sad and angry, Rain approached her door as Callahan crossed the hall to his. He quickly opened it. It was unlocked. “Right,” he said. “This is it.”

Then he paused. Turned back toward her. His scowling expression didn’t change, but he said, “Heard about your grandfather. Sorry.” Then without waiting for a response, he entered his guest room and shut the door behind him. Rain found herself staring at that closed door. She shook her head, shook him off in her head and unlocked her room.

She swung the door open but stood there paralyzed for what seemed the longest time. The room was a prison she was voluntarily entering to serve out an endless sentence. Without him.

Without him, she surrendered. She broke into tears again and flung herself onto the bed. Giant sobs wracked her young body.

“Rain? Honey?” Iris stood in the open doorway. She’d been crying too. She crossed the room and sat down.

Rain quickly sat up and threw her arms around her mother. “Oh, Mom, I can’t believe he’s gone.”

Iris wrapped her arms around Rain and gently stroked her daughter’s hair. “Neither can I. He seemed so endless. But it was peaceful. In his sleep. He didn’t suffer.”

“But he… It’s just… Talking to him…”

“I know. The world seemed full of possibilities.”

Rain buried her head in her mother’s breast. Both of them were crying now. “And now it’s empty,” Rain said.

“Don’t let him hear you say that, honey. He’s still here. He’s still with us.”

Rain didn’t know if she believed that but didn’t dare disagree now. They remained silent in each other’s arms. The light was fading in the little room.

Finally, Rain whispered, “I’m going to miss him so much.”

“Me too, baby. Me too.”

They held each other for a good hour more.

Outside, shadows lengthened. The sun felt heavy and tired from its long journey and began to sink below what passed for Old Town’s skyline. Automatically, the streetlamp in front of the Inn clicked on.

Mother and daughter had managed to pull each other together. Rain, by this time, had a real stiff-upper-lip thing going. Iris was just starting to move past the shock and loss of her father’s death to face a sudden wave of overwhelming details that had begun to cascade down upon her. There’s so much to arrange. A funeral. The headstone. A wake. And we still have guests to take care of. Momentarily panicked, she stood and crossed to the door. Then she caught herself and turned back toward the one thing in her life that mattered more than any of it. “Will you be all right?” she asked.

“Someday,” Rain said. “How about you?”

“I’m working on all right.”

Rain understood and nodded. They both managed weak smiles. Then Iris left the room, closing the door behind her.

Rain was alone. Deeply, fundamentally alone. The room was dark now, but Rain didn’t have the energy to turn on a light. She didn’t have the energy to move. She continued to stare at the doorway as if her mother still stood there.

And then something was there. Something that bled through the door like gray smoke. Something that coalesced into a figure. The Dark Man. The Dark Man from her dream. Black hair. Broad shoulders. Growing more distinct. She could see him now. Young, tall, with piercing black eyes that stared at her, riveted her to the bed. She tried to get her mind around what she was seeing. On this vision. He was wearing some kind of bomber jacket and maybe a military uniform; his black, black hair swooped up and back like hawk feathers. But she couldn’t take it all in. Couldn’t take him all in. He was translucent and glowed softly. And worse yet, she knew. She knew. This isn’t a dream! This isn’t a dream!

The Dark Man took a step forward, his hands reaching out for her.

And the spell was broken. She scurried back against her headboard and SCREAMED!!!

So little time had passed, Iris had barely taken three steps toward the stairs. Immediately, she swung back around and threw open her daughter’s bedroom door.

Rain was still screaming. Iris rushed forward, in a near panic herself. “Rain, what is it?!!”

Rain watched her mother swing open the door. Watched her move toward the bed and in the process pass right through the Dark Man as if he wasn’t there. Rain did the only thing she could. She screamed again.

The Dark Man reacted too. When Rain screamed the first time, he stopped dead in his tracks. When Iris passed through him, he actually looked stunned. He stared down at his own semitransparent body with a look of horror.

Iris wrapped her arms around Rain. Alonso suddenly appeared in the doorway behind the Dark Man. “Rain…? Iris, what’s wrong?!”