The day is dreary, wet, and bleak. Rayne, gripping her black umbrella, notes that the weather is fitting for this sad event. Eyes down, she fiddles with a loose pebble under her pointy-toed boot. She doesn't want to look at the black casket, lest it be true. Rayne stands only a few feet away from the village priest, but his husky voice sounds so distant.
"...and we ask God today to heal the hurt in this family..." he continues.
She tunes him out as thick tears start to well in her eyes. Blinking them away, she peaks up at her father across the grave. His face is pale and withered, holding a blank expression. She hasn't ever seen him cry; she hardly ever sees him anyways. Her mother died during childbirth and, although it's never been blatantly spoken, her father resents her for it. For this, it was her grandmother who practically raised her, and Rayne couldn't believe she was gone. Grandmama was her best friend, who did she have now? Her father? When he's not collecting wood from the forests, he's searching for his happiness in the bottom of a bottle. Rayne's brow furrows and her heart sinks as she recalls memories of him getting drunk and violent.
A flash of lightening whipping across the sky shakes Rayne from her dark thoughts. She peers up to the roaring clouds before realizing it's time for them to lower the casket. Rayne looks down at the bundle of assorted yellow flowers in her hand, her Grandmama's favorite color. They are from her grandmother's shop. She and her sweet grandma always shared a passion for the delicate flowers and would spend hours together arranging them. Rayne was going to have to try to keep Grandmama's little shop afloat now that she was gone. Now sobbing softly, Rayne says one last mental goodbye and tosses the bushel onto the flat, wooden casket, watching as her favorite person is put into the ground forever.
After the funeral, Rayne sits in her tiny, cold home alone. She leans on a wooden table, resting her chin on her hands. Staring out the window, she can see that the rain was starting to slow. It didn't matter. There was no doubt in her mind that the day would continue to be grey, just as she felt. For as long as she's known, Shining Valley's weather was typically just like this. Ironically, with only three or four sunny days a year. Rayne often wanted to leave this place for good but never wanted to leave her grandmother.
'Maybe now...' she begins to think but cuts it off instantly, feeling guilty. 'Of course I would rather have my grandmother!' her thoughts yell in defense. Shamefully, she slumps her head down into her arms on the table and cries quietly. Moments later, a knock at the front door snaps her from her emotional state. She wipes the tears from her cheeks with her black dress sleeve and makes her way over, trying to compose herself. Opening it, she finds it to be Fletcher McCallister, to whom she is betrothed, with a look of pity spread out on his face.
"Rainy!" he chimes, lunging for her. Unable to meet his cheerful energy, she rolls her eyes and turns from his pining lips.
"Rainy Day don't be like that." he says pulling at her slim waist, "I told you I wanted to be there today, but I had some business that couldn't be rescheduled." Rayne is not at all interested in his vague excuse and she hates that nickname. Rayne is quiet in comparison to the other villagers. Growing up, she was often told that she needed to 'smile more' or 'be more social'. Truthfully, she would much rather just play with flowers at home alone. Although Rayne admits that she's not the most cheerful person in the village, she doesn't consider herself to be sad as the others assume from her quietness. She's asked Fletcher many times already not to use that name and hearing it again makes her face twitch with irritation.
"Don't call me that." she says defensively. She pulls away, still hurt at his absence earlier. How could her future husband not come to her grandmother's funeral? Feeling unsupported by her fiancé, she tries to wiggle away from him.
"Ahh no, Rainy we talked about this. I always get my kiss." Fletcher pulls her in with one hand around her back and the other behind her head, kissing her swiftly on the cheek before letting her go.
"Ugh, Fletcher I'd rather be alone right now." she says, wiping her cheek and walking away. Ignoring her again, Fletcher follows.
"Come on, I'm here for now isn't that what matters?"
'Not really.' she thinks to herself, plopping down on the off-white sofa. Fletcher slides down next to her, putting one muscular arm behind her and a hand on her knee. She pushes it off, still ignoring his gaze. Without consideration he grabs her knee again, slightly squeezing it this time.
"C'mon Rayne." he whines in annoyance. "What can Fletcher do to help?"
Reluctantly, she looks over, meeting his grey eyes. His full-bodied cheeks are covered in light red stubble, meeting a smooth jawline. A thin, cocky grin sits above his round chin that dimples to a crease in the center. His wide-bridged nose supports a pair of square lenses under two trimmed brown eyebrows. He smells clean like soap. It's true that he is one of the more handsome men in the village and also decently wealthier than the rest. Still, Rayne did not feel for him the way she imagined she would love her husband.
The truth is Rayne never had a say in the matter. Their fathers arranged the marriage just weeks ago by request of Fletcher. He wanted her, and before she knew it, her future was sold by her father without any consideration for her feelings. This left Fletcher with a sense of ownership over her and Rayne was left betrayed by her father and her soon-to-be husband. All that aside, Fletcher had yet to treat her poorly and with little to no other options in her village, she tried to accept her fate as it were.
Fletcher leans in and kisses on the nape of her neck while Rayne stares away uninterested. Tugging at the sleeve of her dress, he tries to expose her shoulder.
"C'mon Fletcher please...." she starts.
"Calm down Rayne." he interrupts, annoyed. "I'm just trying to make you feel better since you had a bad day. Can't you see I'm just being nice?" He continues to kiss on her neck, holding her in place with his body weight.
Rayne can tell this man hasn't been told 'no' a lot in his life. With his parent's money, surely he has been spoiled. Nonetheless, with her not being that interested in him to begin with, she is in no hurry to lose her chastity, and especially not today of all days. At this point, she just wants him to leave so she decides to make up a different excuse. Wiggling out from under him, she stands up, adjusting her dress to recover her shoulder.
"I'm just really tired Fletcher, it's been a long day. Besides, I want our wedding night to be special." she smiles, falsely sweet.
"Ugh, fine, I'm just gonna go then." he huffs, grabbing his coat. He pouts putting it on, displeased with her defiance. "You know," he pauses, stepping so close Rayne can smell his breath, "you're already mine. Waiting until the night of our wedding makes no difference. Think about that and try to get used to having some dinner ready by six." He stomps out of the house unsatisfied, leaving Rayne grimacing at his mention of ownership. 'I was right, he IS a pompous ass.' she thinks to herself.
Rayne sighs and slumps into the couch cushion, glad to be rid of her exhausting fiancé. 'It could be worse' she tells herself. At least he's not abusive like her father. She lies down, an arm and a leg hanging off of the side. She hates thinking of him. Instead, she thinks of her grandma, remembering how she smelled of lilacs, how her eyes crinkled when she smiled, showing off pearly teeth that were perfect even in her old age. Rayne's grandfather had died years earlier and, although it was hard for Grandmama, she never let it dampen her spirit. Rayne's eyes slowly close, she must be tired after all. She remembers the three of them going over the hills to the fields of Glensbury to pick wildflowers when she was just a little girl.
The village of Glensbury was generally sunny and more colorful than Shining Valley. Rayne once asked her grandmother why they don't move there. Grandmama made a comment about how the lack of sunlight and the moisture in the air is why she still looked so young. Rayne later realized it was really because Grandfather's grave is here. Rayne thinks about her grandma's wonderful sense of humor and smirks. She remembers how, at the shop, together they would sort through flowers, feathers, ribbons, and other fragile items to make beautifully executed center pieces and decorations. She recalls how the years of practice made her grandmother's spotted hands work effortlessly. Rayne smiles again then frowns, she misses her already. She remembers waking up to the smell of fresh baked bread in the mornings. Although they were fairly poor, her grandmother did all she could to give Rayne a good life. She never went without food, a roof, or clothing, and for that, she was grateful. She thinks about how her grandmother's silver curls would bounce when she laughed. Surely, that is from whom she inherited her own curls. She remembers how, when she found something really funny, she would let out a little snort by accident. She thinks about the little things like that that they have in common. Rayne feels a sense of pride that she takes after her sweet grandma. And as she lies there, eyes closed, pondering on her life and remembering her grandmother, without realizing, Rayne drifts off to sleep on the couch and starts to dream of wrinkles and roses.