Gentle Rain Part 4 of 4

somewhere in her mind it's always raining a slow and endless drizzle...
and whenever it rains you will think of her.
― Neil Gaiman

It’s strange the way Fate works—just when you despair of ever finding a kindred spirit to share your dreams, the universe responds to your cosmic SOS and sends a soul mate to you.

In a way, that's what Mairi is—a love letter from the gods soaked in rain.

I was filled with awe and wonder at how magically events snapped together, not merely coincidentally, like some happy accident, but as if each moment were magnetized, and the element that bound us together was rain.

However, when several days passed and I didn’t hear back from her, I began to worry. My memory of that day in the rain and the Chagall painting was beginning to fade, and I feared my watercolor memory was beginning to resemble all the other canvases of my life—signed in the black ink of despair.

I toyed with the idea of calling or texting her but she did ask me to give her time and allow her to indulge her fetishistic need to create just the right atmosphere and mood.

But I had to admit, patience was never my strong suit and right now the suspense was killing me.

Another weekend came and went and just when I was certain I’d never hear from her again, she phoned and asked if she could drop by my place.

I readily agreed, and within half an hour she arrived in her black BMW and whisked me away to a mysterious destination.

She had brought with her two steaming cups of coffee which we drank as we drove east along the lake.

“In search of Utopia?” I teased.

“Perhaps,” she smiled.

“I’m beginning to doubt such a place can ever exist. Doesn’t the word in Greek mean nowhere?”

She wrinkled her nose in a gesture of disagreement.

“Nowhere is the literal meaning of the word, but I see Utopia as a good place—in the sense of a good place to be. Remember, Daniel, you’re not just buying a location, or making a real estate investment. You’re seeking a way of life.”

“Sounds metaphysical—like the Biblical Garden.”

“Exactly. It’s a good place where you can live in harmony—and if that means Eden for you, then so be it.”

“What came first Eden or Eve?” I mused.

“I’d say they were both part of the plan,” she said, and stared.

I began trembling—I don’t know why—perhaps excitement, perhaps fear. I wanted this to be right—this house, this time. But a worrisome thought arose in me. If Mairi found me the house of my dreams, would our relationship end once her task was accomplished?

I wanted to go on sharing my dreams with her as we did at the top of the CN Tower at our table in the sky—but I didn’t want her to go away to some distant place like the Isle of Skye.

As I was ruminating about our future, she stopped outside a house on a cul de sac.

It was a huge, ranch style home on the Scarborough Bluffs commanding breath-taking views of the lake. It was situated about 300 feet above the water.

Appropriately, as soon as we got out of the car, it started to rain. Neither of us had an umbrella, so we had to make a mad dash to the porch.

I grabbed her hand and we were laughing as we ran up the brick walk to the house.

As we stepped onto the porch her heel slid, and I had to hug her to keep her from falling. In that moment, staring down into her upturned face, I was in another place of rain trails—mesmerized by the storms in her eyes and rain beads lighting her hair.

Impulsively, I kissed her, while inhaling the scent of Neige and rain.

Her dark eyes gazed up into mine. “Do you always rescue women?” she teased.

“Can’t say I’ve had much luck in that department—especially in keeping them.”

“Until now,” she said solemnly. “That’s what my mother used to say when I’d want to give up. “I’d complain that I'd never be able to do something and she’d put a finger to my lips to silence me and say, until now…”

She placed her index finger softly on my lips. “You’ve always had trouble keeping women,” she whispered, “until now…”

I kissed her again, more deeply this time. I went to a place where storms are allowed to brood and the sun doesn’t always have to shine.

We embraced for a long time, and when I finally released her, I noticed a gentle waterfall sound.

“Is there a water feature on this property?”

“You’re hearing the sound of rain chains,” she smiled.

She led me to the side of the porch where a chain of brass cups extended from the roofline to some stones below.

“The house doesn’t simply shed rain—it embraces it. The water is diverted to a dry river bed and ends up in a water pool.”

“So, you knew I was a lover of rain,” I grinned wryly.

“I knew you were like me—a rainy day person. Oh, by the way, the view from here of storms over the lake is amazing.”

“I think I’ll be happy here,” I smiled blissfully.

“I know we will be,” she whispered.

© 2017, John J Geddes. All rights reserved.

Photo: https://goo.gl/images/w5X8yE, https://goo.gl/images/pxpDy0