Predicting Rain?. Mary Anne Wilson

      “I know, I know, and you’re really trying to help children, just going down a different road.” He came across to her. “It’s just hard for me to think of you, my daughter, being a real professional with a real Ph.D.” He looked genuinely shocked by that. “Who would have thought it?”

      “Yeah, who would have thought it?” she murmured with a grin.

      He kissed her on the forehead, then stood back and said, “I’m leaving later this morning.”

      She had always been amazed at her parents’ idea of “marriage.” Her mother lived in Palo Alto and George, whom her mother called “Dune,” lived wherever he wanted to, but mostly here in Houston where he painted. But twice a year, George headed west and twice a year, Bree headed east. That had been going on since Rain was eight and her mother had decided that she needed a “home” that stayed put. So the two of them had agreed on an arrangement, and it worked. Amazingly, twenty years later, they were still “connected,” and happier than a whole lot of couples held together by a piece of paper.

      “Give her my love?” she murmured.

      “Why don’t you come out with me? She’d love to see you.”

      “I saw her two weeks ago when I left there to come here,” she pointed out. “And you know I can’t anyway, not with this whole thing at the hospital up in the air.” She shrugged. “I never expected to get here, thinking the staff position at the hospital was a done deal, then to be told that there were ‘budget considerations,’ and they put me on hold. I talked to Dr. Shay earlier today and he said it could be a week or two before they get the approval.” She shrugged. “I think they look at it as another clinical psychologist in pediatrics isn’t a life and death role, not like a surgeon or an internist.”

      “Don’t they know that the soul and spirit pretty much rule our physical health?”

      She slid off of the hammock and put her mug on a paint smeared shelf nearby, then turned to George. “I guess not. Now tell me what you need done while you’re gone.”

      He grinned. “That’s the beauty of my life here. There is nothing to do. Just chill and—”

      “I know, get centered.”

      “That’s it.” He crossed to a wicker trunk under the high loft windows.

      “Well, I’ve got nothing but time on my hands until the call comes from the hospital.”

      “There’s a fine free clinic down on Brown and—”

      “That’s a drug treatment center, George,” she said. “That’s not my specialty. You know that. I work with children.”

      “The only children thing I know about is the day-care center at LynTech,” George said as he rummaged through the wicker trunk.

      “A corporate institution?” she asked with true amazement.

      “No, not really. It’s in LynTech, and was started for them.” He turned with a pair of rope sandals in his hands. “But it’s changed. Lindsey Holden, the CEO’s wife, has transformed it into a real community effort. It’s just getting off the ground and they’re taking in the children of workers in that area, anyone who needs a good day care for their child. I mean, a lot of workers in that area can’t really afford expensive day care. I’m betting they’ll have some kids coming in who need the kind of help you could give them.”

      She was shocked that he’d mellowed to the extent that he’d give anything connected to a corporation consideration. Then again, he’d been talking a lot about LynTech since she’d arrived. “You could be right.”

      “They’re even sponsoring a huge benefit next month for the children’s hospital intensive care pediatrics wing expansion. Robert Lewis, the founder of LynTech, was involved in the fund-raising, and it seemed natural to get the day-care center in on it, too. I think they’re on the right track.” He crossed to a canvas knapsack sitting by the door to the hallway. “It was encouraging that they’d reach out like that, especially to a children’s hospital. A huge fancy ball wasn’t what I’d choose to raise money, but they weren’t interested in any of my suggestions.”

      She didn’t ask what his suggestions were. “It sounds as if their corporate heart is in the right place.”

      “Who would have thought that the words corporate and heart would be in the same sentence?” he murmured with a touch of disbelief.

      “Well, that’s an idea, maybe volunteering there for a week or so,” she said, and headed into the side space where she’d set up her bed mat. “You’re leaving early?”

      “Sunup,” he said.

      She stopped and looked over at him. “Oh, speaking of corporate hearts. Mr. Ford said that he’d let them know about the cat. So, you don’t need to bother telling Zane…whatever.”

      “Holden, Zane Holden,” he said. “And speaking of Zane Holden, do you want me to give him a call and put in a good word for you at the day-care center?”

      “No, thanks. I’m not sure it’s a good idea anyway.” That’s all she needed was to be around people like Jack Ford all day. “The hospital might call soon.”

      “Whatever,” he murmured. “Do what you think is best.”

      That’s the way she’d always lived her life, with no strong parental rules. She’d just happened to make what she thought were good decisions. Staying clear of people like Jackson Ford was a very good decision.

      TWO DAYS LATER, Rain gave up on a quick resolution of her position at the hospital and impulsively made a call to the day-care center at LynTech, Just For Kids. She’d spoken to a woman named Mary Garner, and Mary had been thrilled that she was interested in volunteering at the center.

      Now she stood in the middle of the center, the main playroom with an awesome fantasy of a tree fashioned out of wood and paint, with tunnels in its trunk and limbs that ran from one side of the room to the other to play centers near the walls. The children were happy, and the staff seemed to be very caring. It was so much more than George had told her about.

      She’d just finished a tour conducted by Mary and was taking in beautiful murals on all four walls, a ring of laughing, playing children, each with a name by them. There were maybe fifteen children in the main room right then, lying on nap mats under the sprawling wooden limbs of the play tree and soft music was being piped in. It all seemed inventive and effective.

      She turned to Mary, a slightly built woman, with a cap of gray, feathery hair, and rimless glasses perched on her nose, magnifying kind blue eyes set in a softly pleasant face. She was possibly in her early sixties, spry and gentle, with a voice that matched the sweetness in her expression. Right now she was looking at Rain, and asking in a partial whisper, “So, what do you think of our lovely center?”

      “I think it’s terrific. Just great,” she said in a voice that matched Mary’s.

      “I’ve only been here a few months, but I do love it so. And I want others to love it, too.” She looked at Rain’s clothes, the navy slacks and white short-sleeved sweater that she’d hoped would be suitable under the circumstances. She’d confined her hair in a single braid down her back, skimming it simply off of her face. “I’d advise that you wear more casual clothes when you’re here, jeans and such. It can be hard on one’s wardrobe,” she said, then pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m assuming far too much.”

      Rain didn’t hesitate. She’d done this impulsively, but it had been absolutely the right thing to do. “No, you aren’t. I’d love to be part of this.”

      Mary touched her arm. “Wonderful, wonderful, now all we have to do is take care of the formalities. Wait right here,” she said and hurried off toward the office area.

      Rain watched the children, enjoying the sense of peace in the space, then Mary was back with the folder Rain had brought with her