R. Stine: Red Rain

Just a light squeeze, but it seemed strange to him. Like a rehearsed gesture.

“Brave?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, when I proofread your book, I didn’t really know it was, uh, so controversial. I couldn’t believe tonight. It totally made people angry. But you handled every question. I was-wow-so impressed .”

“Thanks, Autumn. Nice of you to come tonight.” She lived in Hampton Bays with her sister, he knew, nearly an hour’s drive from the bookstore in Easthampton.

He started to the stairwell. “Are you coming to work tomorrow? There’s mail to answer. And a few things. .”

She shifted the raincoat. The white tube top had slid down, revealing the tops of creamy-white breasts. “Mark? Would you maybe. . um. . like to get a coffee? Or a drink?”

She’s flirting with me .

He felt a flash of heat in his cheeks. “N-no. I mean, I really can’t, Autumn. I haven’t been home in so long. And I have to call Lea. We were cut off and. .”

She nodded. He couldn’t read her expression. Her face went blank, revealing nothing, except that the light faded from those deep blue eyes.

She nodded. “Just wanted you to know I’m here for you. You know. If you need anything?” Her pale cheeks turned pink. “See you tomorrow morning.” She spun away, swinging the violet slicker onto her shoulders, and hurried to the stairs.

Mark watched her go. The coltish legs in the black tights. The silver-blond hair disappearing under the shiny rain hood.

She was definitely coming on to me. If I had gone for that drink with her. .

Don’t even think about it.

He tried phoning Lea from the car. Rain pelted the windshield. He let the engine run, waiting for the cold air from the heater to turn warm. The long row of stores were mostly dark. The street was empty.

The call went right to her voice mail. He left a short message. “Call me back. Where are you? Love you.”

Why didn’t she answer? Why did she sound so frantic when she called?

Maybe Roz would know. Maybe Roz had heard from her too.

The wipers set a tense rhythm. He pulled away from the curb and guided the car down Main Street through the torrents of rain. In the mirror, he glimpsed three or four people, huddled under black umbrellas, stepping out of the movie theater across the street. In front of him, the Ralph Lauren store windows were brightly lit. Cruise wear on display.

He made the right onto 114. His tires sent up waves of rainwater on both sides of the car.

Maybe Roz will know what’s up with Lea.

His poor sister. Five years older than Mark, she had shown up on his doorstep nearly a year ago with the one-year-old kid in tow and nowhere to go.

Talk about bad luck with men. Only it wasn’t bad luck. It was poor choices. You didn’t need a psychologist to see Roz had a problem in that area.

Mark could see the black eye she had tried to cover up with makeup. And the nervous tic with her eyes. . that was something new.

“I’m giving up men,” she had said as he and Lea helped carry her bags into the house. “Maybe I’ll try women.”

“What does that mean?” Ira had asked.

“She’s making a joke,” Mark told him.

Her son, Axl, with the bush of curly brown hair and the pudgy cheeks and freckles, started to cry.

“Naming your son Axl is looking for trouble.” Yes, Mark had really said that to her over the phone the day after Axl was born.

Of course, Roz had laughed. She always laughed at Mark when he was too earnest. “If Axl has problems, I’ll send him to you, Doc,” she said.

They had a strange relationship, he thought. She was the older sister but in many ways he played the older brother. Not the older, wiser brother. Her razor-sharp sense of humor would never allow him to be that. She always cut him down to size even when he was helping her.

It worked. They had always been close. Their parents had been so absent, they had to cling together from the time they were little, and that habit stuck. Now here she was with the black eye and the trembling chin, holding back her tears with all her strength.

Her boyfriend, Axl’s father, had left and taken her car and her savings.

Lea said, “The guesthouse in back is empty. Why don’t you live there for a while, Roz, while you’re getting yourself together? Ira and Elena will love having Axl around.”

“Only if I can do something to earn my rent.” From Roz. “You know. If I can help out somehow?”

Which is how she got to be the nanny. And damned good timing, too, since Lea and Mark were traveling so much lately. The kids didn’t take long at all to adjust to little cousin Axl. Now age two, he was so cute and so preposterously curious. How could anyone resist him?

“What that mean?”

“Why?”

“What you doing? Why you doing that?”

It was so interesting to see the little guy’s brain churning away. Ira and Elena didn’t question much. They seemed to accept everything as it was. They had always seemed too into themselves to be explorers.

Roz seemed happy in the little guesthouse with its single bedroom and bath. In fact, Mark had never seen her so consistently cheerful. She had her straight black hair cut short and bought some young-looking clothes.

She found a part-time job doing office work for some real estate lawyers in Sag Harbor. And she proved to be an efficient and loving nanny. The kids quickly learned to laugh at her sarcasm and sharp insults. They ate all their meals together at the long wooden table in the kitchen. One big happy family.

Of course, Mark was wary. He always began to feel wary whenever things began to go right for his sister. He knew that a new boyfriend on the scene could change it all.

He wanted Roz to have a real life of her own. Actually, he felt the house was a little crowded with the two of them always there, and it was harder to spend quiet time with Lea or with Ira and Elena. He didn’t want to keep her there forever as a kind of indentured servant. But he knew Roz needed time to heal before heading off to the next chapter of her life.

All these thoughts while sailing his small BMW through the dark waves of Route 114, squinting through the rain-washed windshield. The rapid smack-smack-smack of the wipers the only sound except for the splash of rain waves off the sides of the car.

No phone. No phone ringing.

Lea, where are you?

And then a sharp turn through the opening in the low brick wall. The crunch of the gravel driveway beneath the tires. Mark eased the car to the side door. Cut the lights. Turned off the engine. Watched the wipers settle down into place.

Then he pulled the raincoat over his head and burst out of the car. To the door on the run. Shoes skidding on the wet gravel.

He reached for the knob but the door swung open. A sliding rectangle of light revealed Roz in jeans and a long, baggy brown sweater. Her eyes were red-rimmed. He smelled alcohol on her breath.

“Oh, Mark.”

“Roz, hi. Have you heard from Lea? Has she called here?”

Roz gazed at him for a long moment. “I don’t think she can,” she said finally, her voice a whisper.

With the winds rattling the windows, Lea stood with her phone pressed to her ear. “The connection is lost.” She turned to the Swanns, Martha and James. “I heard Mark, but I don’t think he could hear me.”

An explosion of thunder made all three of them jump.

The lights flickered and went out. “I have plenty of candles,” Martha said. “And a kerosene lantern.”

She had more in common with Martha Stewart than just her first name, Lea thought. She seemed to be a perfect host and homemaker, calm and competent, despite the howling winds that made Lea want to scream.