Wrapped In Rain

by Charles Martin

Miss Ella was like that. Light in the darkness.

‘Waverly Rain,’

I heard a faint whisper. Unless you become like one of these, you will not enter into heaven.

“Rain. Matthew Rain.” I smiled. “Agreed?”

I drifted off, wrapped in the arms of Miss Ella Rain.

You can’t rake the rain, box up the sun-shine, or plow the clouds, but you can love.

Then she poked me in the chest again. ‘Don’t hate him. If you hate him, you lose and the devil wins. And we don’t want that old devil winning.’

I stood, leaned against the window, and let Rex watch my back. “You are the root of most everything evil in me.” I leaned the bat in the corner of the room and stood over Rex. “The sins of the father stop here . . . and my love begins.”

Not knowing where to start or even what to say, I whispered, “Touch my lips with the burning coal, light me, and let it rain.”

“I had this dream.”

“I didn’t want to forget the dream, so I made this.”

I stood in the front yard and held up my glove. Jase reached way back, pointed his glove hand at me, took a big step, and threw as hard as he could. The ball arced upward and spun sideways through rain that fell harder now, wrapping itself around us.