The Passing Storm by Christine Nolfi
Chapter 30
Sharing the grim secret brought no relief.
Mostly, the telling brought shame. A black tide impossible for Rae to outrun. She let it rush over her.
Beside her on the couch, Griffin stared straight ahead. He gave no reaction.
When it seemed he’d never break the silence, she rushed into the void. Rae wasn’t sure which was worse. The telling, or the consternation turning Griffin’s features to stone.
“That night . . . I never should’ve opened the bottle of whiskey. Why did we even take it from your father’s liquor cabinet? Teenagers do the stupidest things.” Rae got to her feet. She needed to escape the black tide threatening to drown her. “It’s not like I’d ever been drunk before. That March after the White Hurricane, we’d only just started sneaking into your dad’s liquor cabinet—believing we were old enough to imbibe, which we weren’t. I guess I was getting bored, waiting for you to show up. Downing all those shots of whiskey was my first mistake.”
Nervously she cast a glance. Was Griffin listening? His eyes were glazed.
“My next mistake was sticking around. Once Mik and Penny came into the parking lot shouting at each other . . . I should’ve got back in the car. Right then, before everything spun out of control.”
Slowly Griffin lowered his elbows to his knees. He clasped his hands like a man seeking the solace of prayer.
Dragging her attention away, Rae looked out the window. “I didn’t have my cell phone—I was so upset with my dad that night, I’d stormed out without grabbing it. Even after I got to your house, I didn’t realize I didn’t have it. A typical Rae move, leaping without thinking. Anyway, I should’ve left the parking lot once the Galeckis showed up. Driven to the nearest house and banged on the door. It’s not like I could’ve driven home. I was too drunk.”
For a moment, she was angry at her younger self. Furious at the inexperienced girl whose actions led to terrible, unforeseen consequences. With effort she resisted the sinking sensation gelling inside her. The destructive thought had plagued her throughout her early twenties. As if she’d been responsible for her own rape.
It wasn’t my fault. I know that.
She knew the self-reproach was falsehood. Those corrosive thoughts only made the healing more difficult.
Rape is an act of violence. I’m not to blame.
“The last mistake I made that night? It was the biggest one of all.”
She leaned against the window’s glass, welcoming the chill. Welcoming the cold understanding. There was only one path forward. Live with the scars from that act of violence.
She was still learning.
“After Penny struck Mik, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Griffin, I can’t explain it . . . it was terrifying and funny at the same time.” Miserable, she pressed her face fully to the glass. Pinpricks of pain chilled her skin. “No—that’s not accurate. That’s what I believed at the time. Probably believed for a long time afterward. Here’s the truth: I was so frightened, I automatically mouthed off. Went into my comfort zone of cracking jokes. As if I’d bring the situation under control by taking charge in the most asinine way. My stupid, impulsive habits. I always leap before I—”
Startled, she lifted her face from the glass. Soft, nearly imperceptible sobs reached her ears.
Griffin was crying.
He’d buried his face in his hands. His shoulders heaved as he tried in vain to muffle his despair. Apparently to keep himself together until she finished rambling. Rae swallowed down a sob. His grief was tangible, more powerful than incense.
Sensing her appraisal, Griffin dragged his hands from his face. In a flash, his gaze turned to steel.
“I’ll kill him for what he’s done to you.”
“Wait. Griffin, no.” She took a step closer, hesitated. “I didn’t tell you so you’d take revenge.”
“He’s a dead man.”
“Griffin!” Stunned, she wrapped her arms around herself. “Do you hear yourself? You’re not being rational. Stop talking like a crazy man.”
“Mik has to pay for this. I want him to pay. Barring that, I’ll settle for seeing him do a long stint in jail.”
“No.”
“Now, hold on. Rae, we can’t let him get away—”
“No!” Lifting a hand, she thwarted further protest. “You’re forgetting about Quinn. What will it do to him, if I drag his father through the courts? Assuming I even can.” She had no idea of the statute of limitations on rape. Nor did she care. “It’s over, Griffin. You’re behaving as if this happened tonight. Deal with it—I have. I’ve made my peace with the past. You must do the same.”
“How can I, after what he’s put you through?”
“Because I’m asking you to.”
Surrendering to her decision, he rose. This time when he approached, he didn’t wait for an invitation. He bundled her into his arms. Griffin was a large man, but he’d always been uncommonly gentle. With the lightest touch, he steered her cheek to his chest. Held her against the uneven thump of his heart as grief shuddered down his spine.
Never before had Rae witnessed his tears—his ability to display strength and vulnerability, all in the same instant. It was moving, heartening. The sensation of safety spilled through her.
Leaning fully against him, she closed her eyes.
They stood holding each other for long minutes. After Griffin had brought his emotions under control, he brushed his cheek against the crown of her head, asking, “Does Mik know he was Lark’s father?”
“I’m not sure.”
Sensing the evasion, he tightened his hold. But his tone remained level.
“You don’t know for certain.”
“Griffin, I think Mik suspects Lark was his child.”
“Based on . . . ?”
“When I was seven months pregnant, I saw him on Chardon Square. He made a wisecrack.”
“What did he say?”
“I can’t recall. Something about my condition. I had a major baby bump by then, swollen ankles—the works. The way he looked at me . . . I knew he’d put it all together.” On Griffin’s sturdy back, Rae let her hands cling fiercely. She dispelled the memory. “Don’t ask me to dredge up the details. I can’t.”
“Forgive me.” He tipped up her chin, rubbed his nose against hers. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter.” Then his eyes widened. “Quinn is Lark’s half brother.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re—”
“Raising Quinn now. He’s eighteen, Griffin, but he’s missed a lot. Kids raised in negligent homes rarely mature on time. I plan to remedy that. This may sound strange, but I feel closer to my daughter now. Knowing I’m giving her half brother safe harbor. Knowing I’m giving Quinn a chance to develop and mature, because he’s a great kid. He’s becoming such a sweet young man—I’m so grateful he’s come into my life.” Rae’s eyes were misty, her nose runny. Without thinking, she dried her nose on Griffin’s shirt. Which was gross, but the gesture put soft lights in his eyes. Then she added, “On the outside, Quinn seems incredibly different from my daughter. On the inside? There are lots of similarities. The patience with complicated tasks. The ability to focus on one thing with single-minded purpose. Lark used that focus to create art and do complicated puzzles. Quinn can follow a detailed French recipe without missing a beat.”
“Mik has the same focus,” Griffin conceded, “but manifested in a different way. He can tear apart a vintage car’s engine and put it back together again. The other mechanics at the dealership stand in awe of him. I suppose Mik’s an artist, in his own way.”
“He is.”
Griffin tensed. “Pity the rest of his character is less admirable.”
“We’re all children of light and darkness,” she said. “It’s up to us to choose which side wins out.”
The comment relaxed Griffin the slightest degree. Then he dipped his face into her hair.
“Rae,” he murmured, “you’re growing a mystical side.”
“Strange, isn’t it?”
“Kind of like you’re growing a second brain. One nothing like the original. Who knew?” Playfully, he nipped at her ear as he steered the conversation in a new direction. “Your parents’ cow in the way-back-then. Didn’t Butter have two stomachs?”
“A cow has four stomachs.”
“Maybe you’ll grow four brains. It’ll be interesting to watch.”
“Ha-ha.”
Usually she dominated in the teasing department. It was nice that Griffin was catching up. Maybe he was growing new aspects to his personality too.
After a moment, she said, “I’ve been through some hard times. They either tear you up, or compel you to find a deeper meaning.”
“Good point.”
Griffin seemed about to kiss her. Instead, he smoothed the hair from her brow. Setting her aside, he strode out of the room.
“Where are you going?” She felt adrift without the warmth of his arms.
The feeling dropped away when he returned.
He placed a handgun on the table. A semiautomatic. It would fire one shot each time the trigger was pulled.
“Griffin, why do you have a gun? You hate guns.”
“As much as you do,” he agreed. “If Mik comes to the farm looking for Quinn, it takes time to call the police. I’ll sleep better knowing you have protection.”
“He won’t go that far,” she said, aware she wasn’t sure. Would Mik dare?
Griffin asked, “Do you remember the basics? Don’t load a weapon until you’re ready to use it. Wash your hands afterward—bullets contain lead. Keep the ammo separate from the firearm.”
“Stop. I remember the basics—mostly of using a rifle. Your father only gave me a few lessons with handguns. They weren’t Everett’s preferred weapon to pick off wildlife.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust, adding, “I hardly remember those lessons.”
“We’ll visit a shooting range next week, for practice.”
A strip of ribbon encased the bullets. “Is this a gift from Everett?”
“Presented to me at my housewarming party.”
Meaning the weapon had been stuffed in a drawer for the last two years. “What did Winnie give you?” she asked, picking it up.
“Stoneware and a gift certificate to a kitchen store.”
“God bless your mother. She’s elegance personified.” The gun felt heavy in Rae’s hands. A device made for one purpose only—to kill. Quickly, she set it back down. “My dad thought we should buy a gun, after my first confrontation with Penny. I vetoed the idea.”
“I’m overriding your veto. You’ve given me a lot to digest, Rae. I need to think. And I need you to keep the gun until I get everything worked out.”
“If Everett refuses to fire his favorite mechanic, I don’t see what you can do. Further, you don’t have my permission to tell your dad what I shared with you in strict confidence.”
“I wouldn’t discuss this with my father under any circumstance. As for Mik, he’s already lost his job. It took some doing, but I finally got my father to fire him.”
She geared up to ask how he’d managed the feat. The look in Griffin’s eyes quelled her.
Anxiety pinged through her. “What are you planning?” Griffin was a tortoise. Careful, sure to analyze the problem of Mik Galecki from every angle. There was no telling what he was mapping out.
Her phone buzzed.
“I pried Quinn from his bedroom,” Connor announced in a voice loud enough for Griffin to overhear. “Now he’s beating me at poker.”
The lighthearted disclosure made the moment feel surreal. Dragging her attention from the gun, she cleared her throat.
“How’s your tummy, Dad? Are you still regretting the double doses of Italian food?”
“I’m better. The ginger tea helped. I’ve had three cups. What’s keeping you? Me and Quinn need a third for our poker tournament.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
A grin lifted the corner of Griffin’s mouth. Then he gave her a look: Just tell your dad where you are.
On cue, Connor asked, “What sort of errand are you running? You’ve been gone for two hours.”
“Dad, I’m at Griffin’s house.” The silence was deafening. Foolishly, she added, “You remember Griffin Marks. Don’t you, Dad? Well, I’m at his house. Just talking.”
Griffin rolled his eyes.
Connor said, “Should I break out the chocolates or the party hats?” He knew she overdid the chocolate whenever she was sad.
“Definitely the latter.”
“Yeehaw. I might break out the Scotch too.”
“No! Your stomach doesn’t need more excitement tonight.”
“Rae, I hate when you’re bossy.”
As she was hanging up, Griffin fetched her coat. He placed the gun in one pocket and the bullets in the other.
“No arguing.” He guided her arms into the sleeves. “Go home, get some rest. We both need it. I’ll call you tomorrow after I talk to my niece.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Rae. I’m happy to help.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “Try not to worry.”