Page 62 of Downpour

“You think Christian has time for side projects?” He had a point, but I didn’t miss the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Fair. What if I asked Nate?”

Ray didn’t say anything.

Bingo.

I sighed. He must’ve done it the other day while we were at Ray’s appointment. I hadn’t said anything to Ray, but I had been a little worried about driving off the ranch by myself.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to call in the cavalry. I could have figured something out. I always do.”

Ray let a laugh slip. “Yeah. You figuring out car repairs is what I was afraid of. Close your eyes and follow me.”

I shut my eyes. “Am I going to step in cow poop?”

He chuckled. “Maybe. Walk behind me and hold onto my chair. I’ll make sure you don’t. Are your eyes closed?”

“If you don’t trust me, maybe you should blindfold me next time.”

I heard him let out a quiet huff of air as grass swished under my feet. “Don’t tempt me, Sunnyside.”

I held onto the handles of his wheelchair as we walked. The gentle decline in the earth told me we were heading around to the pond.

“Eyes still closed?”

I laughed. “I’m starting to think closing them in the first place was a bad idea. What are you getting me into?”

“Open.”

I squinted as the pond came into focus. But it wasn’t just the sparkling water reflecting sunset colors. A tire swing hung froma thick branch. A quilt was spread out off to the side with a picnic basket on top.

“Ray…”

It was like stepping into the most idyllic painting. Crickets and frogs chirped a gentle love song as mist floated above the water. I wanted to run and leap onto the tire swing and feel weightless innocence.

I wanted to be carried away to a world where no one but Ray and I existed.

“Did you do this?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I had help.”

I trailed my fingers over the bumpy tread of the tire, and the expertly tied knots wrapping around it and the rope. “So? I know this was you.”

He looked down at his feet, a little bashful.

Stars glimmered over us like diamonds. The sun, in blazing orange, still peeked over the horizon, coating the pond in waves of fire. Somehow, standing between the heavens and the embers, he had created a hallowed place.

We walked through the brief moments granted between midnights, holding fast to the glimmers of elation and joy to ground us when anguish crashed in downpour. We were suspended in the tension between birth and death, chasing purpose and fulfillment.

And in this moment—in this place—I felt mine begin to bloom.

“Don’t be humble,” I said as I looked up from the tire swing with tears pooling in my eyes.

He shrugged again. “Figured you might like it when you don’t wanna be in the house. You said you used to have a tire swing. It’s probably stupid.”

“Can I hug you?” I asked with a quivering lip. “I know you don’t like being touched. I just… Thank you.”

He hesitated, eyes shifting around. “Help me up.”

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