Page 55 of Drive
“Sure,” he said, noddingagain.
She called Archie to her side, stepped out onto her front porch, crossed the floor, and sunk into one of the two cushioned settees. Rainey loved the space. Surrounded by her terracotta pots — now overflowing with petunias and impatiens — the porch was a cheerful riot of color. The matching settees could comfortably hold four people. Their deep, gray cushions, and their sunbelt orange pillows often welcomed Rainey, Holi, and Ash to lounge forhours.
Sitting back, Rainey pulled her legs up into a lotus and tugged an orange pillow into her lap. Under the circumstances, she felt as comfortable, comforted, and calmed as she was likely to feel, so she took a deep breath and calledAsh.
“Crap,” he bit out when she’d relayed Dr. Lambert’snews.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Raineyagreed.
“And Holiday doesn’t knowyet?”
Rainey loved that Ash called her sister Holiday. No one else did. Not even their dad who had insisted on thename.
Asshole can give her a name, but he can’t even give her stem cells,Rainey thought withbitterness.
“Not yet,” she said. “Last I checked, she wasasleep.”
“I’ll tell her.” Ash wasn’t offering. He was insisting. And even though a small part of Rainey wondered if he did so because he thought she was too frail to handle breaking the news to Holi, she was grateful — overwhelmingly grateful toAsh.
“Thank you,” she said, talking past the sudden lump in herthroat.
“What about Melinda, Denise, and Dylan?” Ash asked, ignoring herdistress.
Rainey cleared her throat. “No. You’re the first I’vetold.”
“Okay, I’ll make a deal with you. You call Dylan, and I’ll call the moms. That okay?” Everyone in Rainey’s family bore resentment toward Dylan Reeves, but what Ash felt for him came close to hatred. Rainey and Holi couldn’t help but carry a stubborn love for their dad. Ash didn’t have that burden. All he had was his woman’s pain, so he could barely stand to be in the same room with Dylan Reeves — when the rare circumstance arose. Carrying on a phone conversation with him would be asking a bit toomuch.
“Sure. Got it,” Rainey said, knowing in all likelihood, she’d get Larryanyway.
“Okay. I’m leaving the bank. I’ll be there as soon as Ican.”
Ash rang off, and Rainey took a moment to center herself. If Larry didn’t answer, and she got her father, talking to him about this wouldn’t be easy. He never liked to face anything negative. He denied it with everything in his power. In the two actual conversations Rainey had held with her father since Holi fell ill, he’d kept up a steady stream of“It can’t be that bad,”and“Holi’s the strong and salty type. She’ll be fine,”and“She’ll be back to her old selftomorrow.”
It did no good to remind him that she was so weak she could only get out of bed for a few hours, that she’d taken a leave of absence from a job she loved, that she had to wear a protective mask for fear of infection when she was aroundothers.
That this disease could killher.
Shoving that thought aside, Rainey dialed her dad’s number and waited. She expected the call to go to voicemail, but Larry surprised her by pickingup.
“Hey, Rainbow, how’s Holi?” Larry had been her father’s manager since she and Holi were babies. He was more like an uncle to them than a business partner of their dad’s — an uncle who showered them with love, but who always made excuses or covered for their father’s absence and distraction. Rainey was sure Larry was behind every Christmas and birthday present she’d received from her father since her parents’divorce.
But Rainey couldn’t bring herself to resent that all too much. If Larry weren’t around, Doc Dylan Reeves would find someone else to do his shopping. At least Larry felt something for her and Holi. And her mother, evennow.
“I wish I had better news, Larry,” she said. “Is Dadaround?”
“I’m sorry, hon. He’s got his hands full right now…” Larry, in his native Tennessee twang, started in — doing what he did best — buffering their father from anything too unpleasant while also covering forhim.
As Larry nattered on about why Doc Dylan Reeves couldn’t come to the phone to hear firsthand about the peril of one of his children, Rainey watched with relief as Jacques stepped soundlessly out onto the porch, with the stems of two wine glasses threaded between the fingers of one hand and bottle of Riesling in theother.
He met her with a questioning expression, pointing the wine glasses to himself and then to her, asking if he could join her. Rainey nodded with a smile, and Larry’s words became foreign prattle as she watched Jacques cross the porch in long, easy strides and sit beside her on thesettee.
“…so I just don’t know when he’ll be free,” Larry was saying. “You know how exhaustin’ those recordin’ sessions can be. Give me the update, and I’ll relay everythin’ tohim.”
No“He’ll call you back immediately”or“He’ll talk as soon as he can.”But Larry couldn’t disguise the shame in his voice. Rainey had heard it before — years ago — when she had needed her father most. And he wasn’t there. She knew it had been painful for Larry to watch Doc Dylan Reeves, his best friend and business partner, abandon his daughter when her world imploded six years ago, and Holi’s illness was reawakening thatpain.
And he wasn’talone.
Rainey took a breath to steady herself, and she told him about the failed matches, and the vanishing options, and the drug trial. And as she did, Jacques poured out two glasses of wine and pushed one into her hand. She drained it gratefully. He filled it again, sipping his first more slowly, and keeping a hand curled around the toe of her boot and squeezing every time she said words that were hard tosay.
