Since Mr. Shelby's accident . . . nothing appeared right.
Rain could sense it in the way everyone walked.
Polly had her eyes keen on Uncle Ollie, that was for certain now that Rain had abruptly arrived. However, she seemed more on edge than a woman in-what was perhaps-love should've appeared, at least that's what Rain would think. Then again, Polly's actions are never what they truly seem. Perhaps it was Mr. Shelby's grim return after months of seclusion, drugs, and more drugs that held Polly's attention.
The girl sat uncomfortable within Polly's home, observing the chaotic silence in the comfortably decorated home that reminded her of her own in the country. Polly wasn't in-tune with the silence. It was cigarette after cigarette. Smoke and wind, some whiskey, and then a glance out of her window, no doubt searching for sign of Michael.
Maybe it wasn't Uncle Ollie or Thomas after all that held Polly's attention.
"Shall I put the kettle on?" The woman murmured before striding across the salon.
Then it was Rain's eye she caught. Polly held on to it for a moment longer than expected. She wretched Rain's heart and breath all in one glance, until finally the woman walked out of the room, muttering something to herself. Rain reckoned it was one of her Gypsy chants . . . maybe a blessing for Michael.
Michael.
Even before Thomas' conundrum with the Russians, there was a grim sort of energy that followed Michael around like a shadow. Rain had tried countless times to speak on the matter. Michael was less than compliant with her wishes to talk. Most nights, he didn't make it to bed. Arthur and John mentioned shooting practices. Isaiah mentioned the Garrison. Polly didn't say. Thomas wasn't right in the mind to confirm nor to give Rain an assignment that would occupy her thoughts. Day in and day out of the office, and she'd only run into Michael a handful of times tired-eyed and silent.
One night in particular, he came to Rain's flat in London. Michale stumbled in, alarming Rain into action. It was a ridiculous sight, the restless girl had miraculously fallen asleep, and yet, one sound and she was up in a daze with a gun in her hands-unknowingly-pointed straight at the man she loved.
Michael wasn't drunk, nor had an ounce of snow on him . . . but he had been fighting.
All bloodied up with his head down, Michael trudged toward Rain. Before she could protest, he sank to the floor and wrapped his arms around her knees. It was the first time he had embraced her in what felt like weeks. Shaken as she was, Rain fell to her knees as Michael did and desperately looked for something in his expression to crack the mystery behind his silence and self-destructive behavior. In between heavy breaths, he said nothing aside from, "I'm sorry."
What chilled Rain, as she recalled that night, were Michael's final words before he dozed off in bed next to her. She had cleaned him of the blood, helped him out of the tattered suit, and slid into bed with him, only for him to chuckle and whisper:
"One day, you'll have to kill me, Rainy."
The memory brought chills to her body, despite how warm it was in Polly's home. Rain found herself lighting her own cigarette out of spite. She hadn't brought it up since. She didn't have to, actually, considering Michael practically lived in his office.
Nevertheless, Ruben Oliver now held Rain's attention. She sat back in the armchair within the salon. She took in a deep breath, pondering over the sensitive information she just recently managed to make sense of within the past ten minutes of silence.
In reality, it was Ruben Oliver that was having a hard time finding a comfortable position upon the sofa across from Rain. The disposition wasn't a result of his long limbs, but rather a symptom of shock that was directly caused by Rain's unannounced arrival to Polly's home in the midst of a . . . an intimate embrace.
So, he sat there silently as Rain collected her thoughts. There was an instance in which Ruben thought it would be best to break the silence, only to be shot down by Rain's lack of presence within the moment. Surprisingly, he was less calm once Polly left them alone.
"I don't think you've thought this through, but I understand why you did it." Rain voiced. She adjusted her posture and finally looked at her uncle. In retrospect, Rain felt it necessary to confront one issue while countless others roamed freely in her thoughts.
"I wish you wouldn't smoke." Ruben said. He smiled sheepishly. "I'd like to think my personal affairs didn't rile you up so much, Renée."
"How long has this been in the works?" Rain gestured toward the corridor where Polly escaped through, possibly to fume in the kitchen.
Ruben cleared his throat and scratched his mustache. "For some time now."
"Since the wedding?" Rain suggested, her gaze unwavering.
The spindly man grew weary at the sight of his niece. Since their reunion, Ruben often had to remind himself Rain Cassin wasn't la petite Renée he once knew.
"I'm not angry, Uncle Ollie." In truth, she was delighted this bit of news was more amusing. It was enough to take her mind off of Michael.
"That's what concerns me." Ruben admitted, conspicuous of Rain's calm demeanor. "I'm afraid something more . . . of more importance has occupied your mind."
At this, Rain wavered. Ruben waited for her, granting her a knowing look, one so familiar from when he used to confront her own father of his faults.
When Rain ran from the Shelby empire, right as her past caught up with her and clutched onto her happiness, she could no longer face her future or those who wronged her in that horrendous moment when her father was murdered before her. It was Uncle Ollie who found her, retching and heaving in her private flat, room 502. She had broken every clock in her collection, tore up any paper or picture she could find, and rid the room of any sunlight.
For days, Rain cried, slept, broke anything solid, refused to eat, and denied Ruben any kindness. Despite her unraveling, her uncle stood by her side. He cleaned up after her mess, brought her food, forced her to eat and wash up, and never failed to hold her as she sobbed. The girl lost her father twice in one lifetime, more than anyone should have to endure. But this tragedy was paired with a broken heart. This time, Ruben refused to let her out of his sight.
Eventually, Rain's cries died into somber silences and prolonged sessions of staring out into the grey city. Instead of minimizing her collection, Rain began to work on her clocks, as if repairing the insides was her divine purpose. She accepted his invitation to take a stroll in the city a few times, but avoided crowds in fear of running into familiar faces.
It had taken Ruben, what felt like, years to pull Rain out of that silence. And when the young couple reunited, Rain's youthful and vibrant persona was revived once more, but never truly came back. It was there, in Polly's salon, where he saw that familiar look of loss and emptiness on Rain's face. The sight was more worrying than those weeks of agony . . . and he knew it had everything to do with the boy.
"Is there something I should know?" Ruben asked gravely.
Rain took in a deep breath. "Uncle, It's nothing at all like what you're thinking." It wasn't enough to reassure him, she could see it in the way he was surveying her every expression.
"She sees it in him, too" Ruben started.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Rain refused to meet his eyes and continued to inhale the fumes from her cigarette.
"I know you won't fall the same way twice, Renée," he whispered. "But you can't ignore the signs."
"Is there something you wish to say, Uncle?" Rain questioned, arms crossed.
Hesitantly, Ruben began. "William was a good man."
At this Rain scoffed and laughed in disbelief. "I can assure you, Michael is not my father-"
"He was a deeply caring man, but he wasn't an honest one."
"Ollie, please." Rain felt herself growing impatient as her uncle continued to fight his case.
"I love you, Renée, I loved your father as well. But his actions were never in the best interest of his family, and when I see you and him," he stressed quietly as to avoid Polly's ear, "it reminds me of the way William used to enchant your mother in one moment and break her heart in the next."
"Michael would never hurt me."
"Yes, but what if his next mistake sends you running again?"
"What exactly does this have to do with my parents!?" Rain whispered in rage.
"Because William's lies and actions are exactly what got your mother-"
It was all Ruben managed to say before realizing what he'd said. Rain was too shaken to speak.
Luckily, Polly walked in with a tray of steaming tea cups and sugar, murmuring something to herself. She found the frozen figures in her salon silently staring at each other.
Polly carefully placed the tray on the table. "Did I miss something?"
Rain stood up from the armchair and grabbed her coat. "I was just leaving."
"We were to discuss this reporter girl." Polly mentioned, annoyed at the abrupt departure.
"We can discuss tonight at the party, she'll be there." Rain muttered, her own face red with fury. She took one last look at her uncle as she stormed out the door.
Regret was painted all over her face.
He disapproved of Michael, and he knew something about her mother.
Wonderful, Rain would add it to the list of things to worry about.
