The Value Of Rain Read Online Free PDF Page A

emotions and carry them in their contours until the spring thaw? Could we really start over again? It seemed unlikely, especially when the doorknob turned and Jarrel’s form became shadowed in the back light.
    My uncle is a hulking man with red hair and thick, heavy hands. His face is lined and demarked by obvious feelings of raw inferiority and anger, though I should note that I have seen his eyes carry warmth, but strictly for people outside the family.
    His chest heaved as if he was about to begin a long oratory, but he fumbled, biting at his lip, and began searching for the light switch instead.
    I watched him grope the wall and felt a sting as light flooded the room and soaked up our emptiness. His eyes fell on me heavily, but not without some reluctance, as he rested his bulk awkwardly against the doorjamb. “Charlotte needs her medication,” he said, his expression not quite as pinched and determined as Penny’s had been.
    “Fuck you, and her,” I told him.
    His mouth puckered into a displeased little knot, but he said nothing. He’d been sent on a mission that he obviously hadn’t wanted and seemed ashamed of being here. Most likely because he had astutely avoided my eyes when I first came in, and only his loyalty to Penny had allowed him to be prompted into acknowledging me now.
    Unable to speak, he spread his hands apart as if asking for a break.
    I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, watching him in unforgiving silence.
    His eyes dove to the floor with a frown as his hands came together and began to twist around one another.
    “Not so easy to disguise anymore, is it Jarrel?”
    He looked up, glowering slightly, his bitterness not quite in equal proportion to his vulnerability.
    “I don’t hate you, Charles. I never did,” he answered flatly.
    I caught myself staring at him in utter disbelief, the pulse in my eye glittering with the same clenching desire that my hands demanded. I could taste his flesh on my tongue, feel its rough surface slithering down my throat. I hated this man with every fiber of my being.
    He looked at me for a long moment, his breath seeming to slip away before he slid his hands into his pockets and looked up at the ceiling. “Those were different times, Charles. Hard times. You have every right to hate me, and I wouldn’t blame you if you did...”
    “Fuck you.”
    Jarrel glanced at me and shook his head. “It’s not an apology. I don’t expect your forgiveness. If I can’t give it,” he said with a bulleted glare at Charlotte, “ how can I expect you to? I just wanted you to know that I regretted what I did.”
    I stood frozen, rigid with rage. All those years, all those beautiful, beautiful boys...
    I flung myself across the room, my scream rising to a roar as I spat in his face. “Fuck you and your apology!”
    His chin lifted. His eyes hardening on my panting frame, every muscle in his big body tensing. But he didn’t move, not even to wipe away the spit dribbling down his face.
    Sylvie, his wife, came in, her hand reaching out for his forearm and clasping it tenderly as she stared at me.
    “Get the fuck out!” I growled at Jarrel. “You, your wife, and your brats. And take your goddamned non-apology with you.”
    Jarrel stared down at the floor, beaten by all that I had witnessed and survived. But Sylvie, stirred by her love of the man I so hated and despised, pulled herself close to him and drew her lips back as if ready for a brawl.
    Her eyes shifted to Jarrel and softened immediately. “Tell him, honey,” she whispered softly.
    Jarrel shook his head, tears brimming as he stared at the floor. “No use.”
    “Tell him,” she insisted. She took his chin and brought his gaze to her. “Tell him, he has a right to know too.”
    Jarrel’s eyes came back to me unwillingly, and with a deep anger that I recognized in my bones. “Your mother had me molested to keep me in line, Charles. You became a pawn between us because you were the only way to pay her back for