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Wilomena was outside in the rain, breaking every rule that made her a proper lady. Waves of damp hair, unburdened by pins and primping, spilled over her shoulders. Her feet were bare, and she didn't seem to notice the mud squishing between her toes. She must have looked like a mess, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was dancing in the rain, unfettered and free, without a worry in the world. She spun in circles with her arms open wide, giggling as she twirled. She felt like a little girl again.
Wilo thought she glimpsed a fairy flitting between flowers. That was the first sign she was in a dream. Her attempt to pursue the creature led her straight to Rain. She turned a corner and collided with a chest.
“My goodness, Mr. Rain!” she exclaimed. “Running into you is quite like running into a brick wall!”
“My apologies. Had I known you were nearby, I would have given you some warning.”
They were alone in the garden at Welwyn Hall, and as she wrung the water from her soaked tresses, she said, “I must look like a bedraggled mess.”
“Not at all. You look lovely, as you usually do,” he objected. “Do you like the rain?”
“Your name is Rain. Are you talking about you, or are you talking about the rain itself?” Wilo asked. “I suppose I could make it easy on you and say I like both.”
“I'm glad to hear it,” Rain said. “I'm also glad you remember me. I was afraid you might forget our previous encounter.”
“Forget you? Perish the thought!” Wilo took his arm and pulled him down the garden path. “Did you know there are fairies in this garden?”
His eyebrow shot up. “Is that so?”
“Indeed. I saw one a moment ago, right over there!” She pointed at the hedge that concealed her magic visitor. “When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with fairies. I swore I saw an entire family of them in the mossy forest behind my fathers' estate. My mother said I was mad and told me not to speak of such things. But... I've always preferred stories where the impossible seems possible.” She lightly tapped Rain's arm. “Being with you seems impossible... and yet, here you are!”
“Would you like to do another impossible thing?” When she nodded, Rain instructed her, “Close your eyes. I'm going to take you halfway across the world.”
Wilo felt a pinch of excitement in her stomach as her eyes closed. For some reason, she trusted Rain. She would have followed him anywhere.
When her eyes reopened, Wilo was transported to an unfamiliar world. There were shelters made from animal skins, propped up by wooden poles. Men and women in unusual attire were sitting around a fire, speaking in a tongue that was foreign to her. The only familiar face was Cecilia, who smiled and waved when their eyes met.
“Cee?” Wilomena cried. “Why are you here? What's going on? Where's Rain?”
Cecilia said, “He left to get food, I believe. He said something about sampling his mother's cornbread.” She spoke casually, as if it was entirely normal to crash into her niece's dream.
“This is... odd.” Wilo's gaze combed over the many unfamiliar faces surrounding her. In a whisper, she asked, “Who are all these people?”
“They are members of Rain's tribe. George is around here somewhere, but I haven't seen him in—”
“George?” Wilo shrieked.
“Indeed. You won't believe this, but George used to visit me in dreams when he was in a coma,” Cecilia said. “I know it sounds mad, but that's where we fell in love.”
Wilomena's eyes were bulging, so Cecilia bit her tongue and kept the rest of the story to herself. She feared it would be too much for her niece's mind to absorb.
“So... is this real, then?” Wilomena asked.
Her aunt replied, “That has been my observation, yes. All my life, I dismissed dreams as some trick of the mind, but it seems they're infinitely more significant than I could have imagined.”
Rain returned with George, who, at Rain's insistence, was wearing a pair of moccasins.
“These are unbelievably comfortable, Cee!” George exclaimed. “After a few minutes in these, I may never go back to leather boots. Ah!” A radiant smile soared across his face as he faced Wilomena. “Lady Winterbottom has joined us, I see.”
“Please, call me Wilomena,” she insisted. “While I'm here, I would rather not hear any name that attaches me to Arthur.”
George said, “You're not too fond of my brother, I take it?”
“Oh, Arthur is just delightful,” Wilomena answered with a roll of her eyes. “He's so delightful, I can barely tolerate him.”
The four of them sat around a fire, where other members of Rain's tribe were already sampling crumbly bread. Rain offered a bite to Wilomena, who raved about its texture and taste.
She asked Rain, “Is this the way you lived... when you were alive?”
“It is.” He offered her a piece of fruit, pared by his knife. “I was always out in nature, living off the land, never staying in the same place too long.”
“Oh, that sounds so wonderful!” Wilomena exclaimed. “Cities are so cramped and overcrowded. Everyone loves London, but the city has always stifled me. There are so many people, all packed together, and we never venture far from our homes. I think I would prefer the way you live, Rain.”
When one of the men started singing in another language, Wilo was riveted. His voice put goose pimples all over her flesh.
During the song, Rain whispered to her, “I'm glad we get to spend this time together. I don't know when it will end, or if you'll even remember me when you wake up, but... for the moment, I'm happy.”
Wilomena didn't say a word, but she laid a hand on top of his. Though she said nothing, she felt the same way. Her dreams were an escape from Arthur—and it was an escape she desperately needed.
Rain was encouraged to join a dance, but he refused to participate unless George did as well. Cecilia lost herself in a fit of giggles when her beau tried to copy the dance.
“Oh my. George looks ridiculous!” Cecilia cried. Though he wore the same shoes as Rain's tribesmen, his feet lacked their fluidity. “At this point, I really wish he would sit down and stop embarrassing himself!”
When a misstep sent George stumbling into Rain's arms, Cecilia clapped a hand over her eyes and groaned.
“At least he's trying,” Wilomena defended him.
“He looks like a looby. A very high-spirited looby, but a looby nonetheless.”
As soon as the dance was over, Rain asked Wilo to join him for a stroll. They left the others and walked around a pond, where hidden bullfrogs crooned a dissonant song. Wilo was tempted to reach for Rain's hand, but she decided against it. She was drawn to him, but somewhere in her mind, she feared rejection. He was her spirit guide who had known her since childhood, and she was a married woman. Any romance between them was doomed before it had even begun.
“Thank you for helping me escape,” she said. “I... sometimes, I am truly miserable. These dreams are my only break from sorrow.”
“I'm glad you're enjoying them,” Rain said. “Next time, should I give you a more fantastical dream? Should we go on a grand adventure?”
“This is enough of an adventure for me!” Wilo chuckled. “Although... I wouldn't mind visiting Venice. I've always wanted to go. Arthur was supposed to take me, but he—”
Wilomena was in the middle of speaking when they were suddenly transported to Venice's Grand Canal, in all its colorful splendor. They were in a gondola, drifting closer to the famous Rialto Bridge. It was so vivid, she could scarcely believe it was a dream.
“We're here!” she cried. “But... how did you do that?”
“It's a dream. We can do anything, my lady,” Rain said. “I could take you to the top of Egypt's Great Pyramid if you wished it. I could take you anywhere.”
“It's extraordinary...” whispered Wilo. Her eyes bulged as she studied their mustached gondolier. Wilomena wondered who he was. Was he a real man, or was he a figment of her imagination? “I would say it's not the same as actually being there, but... everything looks so real.”
“Do you like it?” Rain asked.
“I love it.” Her eyes stuck to a pair of cooing doves as they fluttered over the Rialto Bridge. “I would rather be in Venice with you than with Arthur. What about Cecilia, though? Is it alright to leave her behind?”
“Cecilia and George will have dream adventures of their own, I'm sure,” Rain said. “And I wish you would stop mentioning Arthur's name. I cringe when I hear it.”
“I cringe when I hear it!” Wilomena concurred. “Perhaps we should make a pact to never utter his name when we're together.”
“Do you regret marrying him?”
Wilomena swatted Rain's arm with a fan, which had suddenly appeared in her hand. “Do you need to ask that? Of course I regret it. I regret it every day! And now... from this moment on, we will never speak of him!” A moment later, she said, “It's refreshing to find someone who despises him as much as I do.”
With a sigh, Rain pointed out, “You're still talking about him.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Sheepishly, Wilo ducked behind her fan. “I can't even abide by my own rules, I see.”
When the gondolier started to sing in Italian, Wilo was transfixed by him. Leaning closer to Rain, she whispered, “Who is he? Is he someone you know?”
Rain shook his head and chuckled. “No.”
“I was just wondering if he was in my dream for a reason,” Wilo said. “Do you think he's a real gondolier or... or is he just someone I made up?”
“He could be a real gondolier who's having this dream at the same time as you.” When the gondolier hit a high note, Rain winced. “Or... he could be someone you've conjured up in your mind.”
“Well, either way, he's a lovely singer.” When his song concluded, Wilo showed her appreciation with applause. He rewarded her with a second song, and Rain rolled his eyes.
Rain waved his hand and gave them a sunset. Wilo was so engrossed by the gondolier's performance, she didn't notice the sky's new hue.
“Wilo...” Rain whispered her name to reclaim her attention from the singer.
“Hmm?”
“Wilo, I... I would really like to kiss you.”
Though her mouth fell open, Wilo didn't respond. Surprise had stilled her tongue.
“Maybe it's wrong. Maybe we shouldn't. It's not proper for a guide to fall in love with his charge,” Rain said. “But I've loved you for a long time, much longer than you realize. And getting to spend time with you is a miracle that I never—”
Wilo's lips crashed into his before he could finish. Her hand glided along his chest and drove through his hair. Her mouth dabbed kisses across his cheek and neck before her head finally laid on his shoulder.
“Thank you for this,” she whispered.
“For the kiss?”
Wilo shook her head. “The kiss is only part of it. I want to thank you for everything. For Venice. For all of it. This has been such a lovely escape. I didn't realize how much I needed it.”
Rain's smile fell away as he confessed, “I'm afraid you'll wake up and forget me.”
“As if that was even possible!” Wilo lowered her head to his shoulder and whispered, “I'm more afraid that these glorious nights will come to an end.”