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The storm lingered over the next few days and except for Jake checking in on me from time to time. I heard from no one. The days dragged by

monotonously as I waited for the skies to clear and events to work themselves out. It was hard. What do you do with yourself, with time when you have it in super abundance? What direction should your thoughts take when daydreams could lead you into so much sad territory?

I tried to occupy myself with reading, watching television, listening to music. Finally, the storm moved away and the ground began to dry. A day later I heard from Aunt Victoria, who told me she had been very busy helping Grant make a transition from tragedy back to a productive life. When I asked her about my mother, she simply said she's unchanged,

"We're deciding how to handle that. I don't know if private therapy will be enough and neither does Grant," she told me with an ominous undertone.

What new plot was she hatching? Should I care?

She told me she would be by in two days with the paperwork she had promised earlier. I didn't tell her that I had come to a decision she would like very much. I had finally decided to leave and give them all what they had wanted. I told Jake I shouldn't have been so stubborn about it. I should have accepted the compromise and gone back to England. Brody would still be alive.

He hated that talk and told me I was not right to blame myself again and again. Finally, he stopped arguing about it. Instead, he talked me into taking Rain for a ride, now that the weather permitted it. I could set clearly what he hoped would happen and I didn't deny that I hoped it myself: his beautiful horse would bring me some peace and contentment.

The rides were practically the only thing I looked forward to doing. Rain became more and more comfortable with me and I started to believe in Jake's descriptions of the horse anxiously anticipating my arrival. As strange as it might seem, she was the only living thing that really seemed to love me now and riding her was the best way to escape from my dark depression.

'Every time we reached the crest of that hill. Rain would expect me to stop and dismount. She would graze on some grass and I would sit on a rock and look out at the land. Grandmother Hudson's house, and the beautiful horizon. I would tell myself that ordinarily, considering where I had come from and what I had been through growing up. I should feel lucky. I should cherish all this and fight hard not to lose it, but the wall of tragedy was too tall and too wide and too heavy.

It's just not meant to be. I told myself. Run away. Stop fighting it.

As she had promised. Aunt Victoria came to see me with a stack of papers. I sat listening numbly when she described the different investments, legal documents, the reissuing of certificates, on and on. a gobbled-gook of business information that clouded my tired and confused brain. Maybe I was more like my mother than I had imagined. Maybe, like her. I just wanted someone to do all this for me and not bother with anything practical.

In the middle of her endless stream of financial information. I put up my hands like someone seeking to surrender.

"I don't care about all that," I said. "I want to go back to England as soon as possible. You were right,"

She stared at me a moment and then she nodded and smiled. "So, you want me to go ahead and sell the property?"

"Do whatever has to be done." I said.

"What about all this?" she said nodding at the pile of papers.

"I don't want to be part of it. Tell Grant I'll accept his offer."

She didn't speak. but I could see from the way her face blossomed, her eyes filling with glee, that she was overwhelmed with happiness. Now she could go to him and say. "See how good I am for you. See how I do what I promise."

I didn't care. If Grant was going to be snared by her conniving ways, he deserved it. I wanted to be as far away and as uninvolved in this family as I could be so I couldn't be blamed for that. too.

She took a breath and started to gather up all the documents,

"Very well I'll go back to our attorney and inform him of this change," she said. "You're being very sensible, sensible indeed. In the end you'll be far happier."

"I'm already happier," I told her.

She looked like she was going to laugh, but just nodded and smiled instead.

The next day I received a letter from my father in England. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in a long time. I just sat there staring at the envelope, terrified and yet exhilarated. What would I do if he had written that after thinking it all over, he and his wife had decided it was probably best for all involved if I didn't contact them anymore? After all, look at all the new and complicated problems I was bringing along in my luggage? Yet, who else did I have?

My fingers trembled as I tore open the envelope and slipped the letter out. He had written it on his school stationery, most likely while he was at work. Did he do it there because he didn't want Leanna to know?

.

Dear Rain,

What a wonderful surprise it was to hear from you, even though I could see from your letter that you are very troubled. I'm glad you wrote to me at such a time. I have no reason to expect it and I certainly don't deserve it.

How presumptuous it would be for me to offer you any advice at all. I don't know all the details about your situation back there. I can't even begin to imagine what it all must be like for you. Is the secret of your birth completely revealed, for example? Or is it still some skeleton hanging in a closed Hudson family closet?

Maybe none of that matters anyway..... The point is you are obviously not being accepted with open arms. I suppose you are like a small boat adrift in a wild sea, being tossed and turned and desperate for some sanctuary.