Chapter Twenty: Ghosts and Long Ago Friends

I'm back! Sorry I've been so absent on this story. It's been stressful, but I finally got to sit down the past two days and write this one out for you guys. Hope you like it!

As always, if you think it deserves it, please comment and vote and/or share so this book can get some more love.

Thanks for reading!

--VIVKELLER23

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Rain

He was angry with her. She could sense it even if he thought he was being clever in hiding it. For all the playful smiles he gave her, the ominous gleam in his green eyes wasn't fooling her. He was waging a silent war. Why? That was the million dollar question. But it wasn't going to be much of a war once he understood she wasn't going to fight.

They were in the middle of October now, closer to all things spooky, and Teagan hadn't missed a single one of Dr. Tilden's classes. To be fair, he'd only had two classes to attend since the day she met him on his soccer field, but for Tee, that was an amazing feat to accomplish.

Her father had asked her to return home after classes today instead of allowing her to go in to work like she usually did. It was all charity work. She wasn't getting paid for helping out the bruised and broken survivors she looked up to everyday. That was the only reason the great Randolf Sullivan didn't think much of it. In his eyes, he was simply entertaining his too sensitive daughter by allowing her to waste time on women who claimed to have experienced the same thing Rain had gone through.

Because rape was just too harsh a word to use when describing a man's unwanted attention on the weaker sex.

His logic amazed her.

It was hard to believe that the same man who ignored her every morning to hurry out to sell his luxurious property, was the same man who'd never missed any of her choir performances in high school. Every tryout for the school team, he'd been there, her greatest supporter with a proud smile on his face. Randolf Sullivan had been every girl's dream father while growing up, which was why it was so hard to reconcile herself to the notion that the man she'd known was gone for good.

It was an even harder pill to swallow when she knew part of the reason he was so changed was because of her.

She'd buried the father he'd been, ripping away the only love he'd ever had.

So if the man she now lived with was only a shell of what he once was, the blame was hers and hers alone.

Isa was chirpy this morning, humming along to some Michael Buble while she fixing Rain's favorite breakfast. Cheesy omelettes, fresh squeezed orange juice, and crispy hash browns. Her mouth watered even as her ears protested the ungodly sound coming from the plump woman's mouth.

Besides her beloved mother, Isa was the only cook Rain could stomach. Which was all the reason Rain needed to suck it up and listen to the off-key humming that filled the kitchen.

Rain sighed, taking in the unusually bright rays that spilled in through the large windows. The white walls weren't quite so upsetting in the light of a bright new day. But the walls weren't what brought an amused smile to her face this morning.

Isa's kitchen, because it was the only room in the entire estate that belonged solely to her, was a bustling mess. Empty pots filled the sink, orange peels littered the blue and white checkered floor, and the radio was set just a little too high for Isa to hear the timer going off.

Good Lord, please don't let that be the biscuits.

Isa's humming turned into a pitiful scream as Rain hurried to the oven to save what was left of the cook's efforts. Biscuits! Rain pulled the overheated tray out with what should have been edible bread to accompany breakfast.

She made a tsk sound, and stared into laughing blue eyes. "What on Earth would you have done if I hadn't come home?" Rain asked. She pressed the lever with her foot to open the trash can lid and dumped the black balls of dough inside. "You probably would have burned the house down, and then how was I going to talk father into keeping you?"

"I wouldn't have needed your father, Rain Sullivan," the older woman replied, her hands on her hips. "He can starve for all I care. I've told you before, I stay because of you."

Rain felt warmth at Isa's words, but she knew better than to dwell on that. "I'm all grown up, Isa. I can fight my own battles."

The cook, and the closest thing Rain had to a mother figure now, nodded, a slight smile on her face. "I've no doubt you can. But until the fools who surround you understand that you shouldn't have to face every new day as if someone was out to hurt you, until your father remembers he didn't cease being a father the day he stopped being a husband, you're stuck with me."

It was stuff like that which made Isa indispensable. She was the only soul in the world who understood her when Rain thought she was all alone. Rain managed a slight curve of her lips, as she pushed the sleeves of her navy blue cardigan up to her elbows. "And I'll forever be thankful that I have you in my life," she said simply.

The brightness of Isa's clear blue eyes looked suspiciously like tears, but the woman knew better than to get emotional. She straightened her stout shoulders to her full 4-foot-9 frame and set out to make a fresh batch of her famous biscuits.

Together, the women worked hard for the next thirty minutes, Rain effectively forgetting that her father had asked for her to return home without much explanation.

But, of course, Randolf Sullivan wasn't a man known for spontaneity, and much less known for his outward shows of affection. Which left only one reason for the man's request. If there was one thing no one forgot about the Sullivan Patriarch, it was that the man always had a plan. Nothing was ever left to chance, and when something disrupted those carefully laid plans, there was usually a price to pay.

Rain shivered, already loathing the fact that she was going to be the one facing her father's cold wrath. He never beat her, not at all. To do so would require some contact between the two of them, and her father had long since made it clear he would never touch the girl who had taken the love of his life from him. She was too soiled. Too dirty.

The great Randolf's wrath was much worse. His words were cruel, yet perfectly acceptable since he was the one who clothed and fed her. His face was a mask of indifference, his beady brown eyes devoid of any warmth, any life. If ever there had been a man capable of making someone feel unwanted and impure, it was the man she knew now as her father.

Sometimes she wondered why he spent so much of his money and influence on silencing the truth of what she survived. If he couldn't be bothered to even care about her, it had to be a waste of effort right?

Rain heard his voice before he rounded the corner into the kitchen. As per usual, he was being the shrewd businessman, discussing the terms of yet another property deal. It was only Tuesday morning, not that it made any difference to him.

She knew from the silk material of his gray suit jacket that whatever matter had forced him to seek her company this morning, it wasn't pressing enough to keep him home to enjoy breakfast. He was overdressed for omelettes and orange juice. That was nothing out of the ordinary though.

The slight curving of her lips was automatic, as was the ritual of setting out a plate for him when she knew he wouldn't be staying. But she was a creature of habit, so it couldn't be helped.

He ended the call, glancing at her with a quirked brow. "You remembered to come home," he remarked.

Just once, she'd like to know if he was pleased with anything she did. She couldn't very well ask that, could she? Instead, she nodded."Morning, Father."

The tensing of his broad shoulders at her use of the word "father" was so minuscule, she might have missed it if her eyes hadn't been trained on him. Always looking for signs.

"That's enough pleasantries, Rain. I see you most everyday." He waved a careless hand, dismissing her. How strange that he should think a passing greeting every other day meant anything when his eyes only ever held ghosts.

Did he think she wasn't haunted just the same? "Of course. You must be very busy. Was there a reason you asked to see me?" The lonely years had taught her not to ask for anything. It wasn't worth the trouble. It was simpler to play the part he'd cast her for.

"It's come to my attention that there was a-" he paused, searching for the correct word- "an incident the last time that Miller boy stayed over?"

Was he asking her or simply letting her know? Of course, if he could classify Tim Jeffers' attack on her that day "an incident," he couldn't think it had been too serious. "May I ask who told you?"

He scoffed. "You dare to ask when you failed to warn me that I could potentially be facing down an angry family friend?" His dark eyes weren't emotionless now. They were fairly enraged. "You're lucky I was able to talk him down from pressing charges against your male companion!"

She bit her tongue and tasted blood. Yet the urge to tell him how hypocritical he was being for turning the events of that day on her still burned her throat like acid. Jeffers is lucky Miller let him limp out of the house that day. "Did Timothy mention what he did to invite Miller's fist to his nose?" Rain asked in the calmest tone she could manage.

Randolf Sullivan hadn't built a Real Estate empire by meekly accepting the requests and accusations others dealt out. He straightened until his back was ramrod straight and stared down his nose at her. "Do not tell me I will be having to visit the authorities once more. For God's sake, Rain, what more can I do with you?"

Love me? Rain pushed the pitiful thought away even as tears burned her eyes. She fought those back as well. "Nothing happened this time," she told him, watching the relief that smoothed out the lines in his harsh face. That relief wasn't for her though. It was for having been spared the trouble of another expensive cover up.

"Saves me a few phone calls at the very least." He glanced at his watch, muttering something vague about a breakfast meeting. But before he'd even taken two steps towards the back kitchen door, he glanced once more at her. "And that Miller boy? How much is his silence going to cost me?"

She wanted so badly to tell him he couldn't buy himself out of this one. She wished for once that there was something he couldn't control in her life, something he couldn't change to fit into his stupid, greedy plans. Perhaps then, he'd stop pretending everything was okay when she was chipping away inside.

But that wasn't going to be today. Rain shook her head. "You don't need your checkbook for this one, father. Seems breaking Timothy Jeffers' nose was all the payment he needed to keep quiet about what he witnessed."

If he heard any of the underlying anger in her words, he ignored it. "Good. You stay home today just the same. I've already sent that shelter you insist on working for a generous donation."

Generous to the females who fled their homes with only the clothes on their backs and the stuff they could carry perhaps. There wasn't a single kind bone in her father's body. Every gesture was made with an ulterior motive, but the people he manipulated usually couldn't see that.

"Thank you." No matter his reasons, the money would help the women who'd suffered enough already in this world. She wouldn't begrudge them that.

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say more. She couldn't think what. He'd said what he needed to and got the results he wanted without having to spend a penny to clean up another mess. Whatever he'd meant to say died instantly as the sound of his ringing phone brought him back to reality.

"Rogers, yes, I'm on my way," he answered, quickly switching back into business mode. He didn't even bother to wave as he stepped out of the kitchen door into the sunny day.

And Isa, bless her heart, pretended not to see Rain's shaking shoulders as she turned back towards the sink to begin washing the pots and pans.

xXx

Randolf had asked her to stay home, but technically she hadn't agreed. So it was on that technicality that Rain sent Isa home early and stepped out to start planning the preparations for her father's annual fundraising event. He liked to look down on her for giving freely of her time to survivors just like her, but he needed her assistance now that she was the only female related to him.

The annual fundraiser was done in an effort to help make his empire look a little less intimidating. So, despite the fact her father was power hungry and continued to sell property as if he could never have enough money, he wanted to make it look like he cared about other issues in the community of Granite Woods. That was another reason he gave up trying to keep her from the shelter she dedicated her time to. It looked good on him to have a daughter so invested in the less fortunate.

So long as no one knew just how much those women and Rain actually had in common.

She figured since the actual planning for the event was typically left to her, Randolf Sullivan couldn't care less about when the event took place. At least that's what she chose to believe. The reality was that long before Rain had been old enough to understand what the grand parties were about, her mother had always made certain that they fell on the same special day. Rain's birthday.

Now that mother was gone, well, it was easy for her father to ignore the significance of the date.

Rain shook her head. Enough with the sad thoughts. There were people in the world who had it worse than she did, what with the huge house she called home and a hefty allowance to ensure she had everything she could possibly ask for. At the risk of sounding like a pushover, she had a lot to be grateful for.

It was simply that sometimes, on the very rare occasions when she couldn't shake the gloom, Rain felt she could trade it all for a little bit of the things the Sullivan money couldn't buy.

But it was all wishful thinking. Rain nodded politely at the elderly man who held the door to Christa's Parties open for her. Once inside the warehouse store made for all parties, Rain began making inventory of what was available and what would need to be ordered now to ensure it arrived in time for the first week of November.

There was a lot. The first few times she helped her mother with the planning had been overwhelming. There were specific plates and utensils for the kinds of meals being served. Christa's, thank Baby Jesus, was known for having just about anything she could possibly require.

The store was massive. There were three floors, with your choice of escalators, stairs, or elevators to access each one. The building itself was arranged in such a way that it was compartmentalized into departments. One section of the store was all baby, another all wedding and formal reception, and yet another all things graduation. It was a maze of party types, to be sure.

The middle floor was more of a free-for-all. You designed your own style, picked your theme (Lord, the theme), and really let your artistic vision shine. Last year's theme had been safari, and the guests had not disappointed. Rain shook her head recalling some of the more exotic looks. And her father had completely ignored the fact that the charity of choice had been focused on stopping animal cruelty.

He'd paid a small fortune to have a cheetah present. On a leash. Brilliant.

She'd brainstormed a few themes with Isa. A masquerade was too predictable. Arabian Nights could be a hit or a miss. And since the weather had been holding out nicely as of late, Rain wanted to take advantage of the outdoors.

Which was how she came to the stellar idea of making this year's theme Backyard Camping. The games would be fun. It wouldn't be as hard to throw together either. And since the charity of choice this year focused on being eco-friendly, being outdoors made sense.

Rain spotted Christa with the neon green curls she was famous for. She smiled and waved her over. "Hey, Chris, I'm going to need you to work your magic again this year."

The woman beamed, pushing her non prescribed red glasses up her nose. "Oh, yes, you know I love your parties." She almost squealed. "What are we doing this time?"

"Outdoorsy. You know, simple camping theme. It's more about the games and quality time this year."

Christa purred. "I like it!" And that was all the approval she needed from the party guru. She clapped her hands and started working her magic.

By the time Rain managed to creep out of the store, it was dark outside and time for a late dinner. She was hoping her father hadn't gotten home yet so she wouldn't have to explain her absence, when a familiar face appeared in the glass window of her car.

Spooked, Rain spun around to face one of the many faces of her past. The brisk words she'd intended to say died quickly on her tongue once the stark fear on Gia's face registered. "Gia?" Her long ago friend flinched at the sound of her name. "What's wrong?"

The look in those stark, pale blue eyes was terror. Her naturally fair skin was paler, the heavy mascara on her lashes running down her cheeks in proof that she'd been crying. She blinked, struggling to find the words. "You gotta help me, Rain."

Rain frowned. It wasn't lost on her, the way she phrased the request. Gia was so terrified she was past asking for help. She was begging for it. "Why?"

"He's been following me since I left the bar. I don't know where else to go," she whispered, her voice breaking on the last.

That's when Rain saw the dark figure standing just beyond the light from Christa's.

But to Rain, he might as well have been the monster her father insisted on calling friend.

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