And Rain Narrates

By Jeannette P. Morada

Rain Dee was one of the celebrants of the Pride Celebration and Parade, which was launched in June 2015.
In this book, And Rain Narrates, she reveals in her several special ways, the extraordinary love life and experiences she went through in the past onward to the present, with her once-favorite high school math teacher, Jett Peace Moore.
After the hurricanes in Rains love life, did she find the rainbow?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514403891

Jeannette P. Morada

Jeannette Palacio Morada was born in Manila, Philippines, grew up in the far north of the country called Santiago, Solsona, Ilocos Norte, and finished college at the Divine Word College of Laoag, Laoag City. She taught two years at the then Our Lady of the Rosary Canossian Academy (now Canossa Academy) high school department in Lipa City, two years at the Saint Joseph’s School, high school department in Pandacan, Manila, and less than a year at the Doña Teodora Alonzo High School, Manila, before she moved to California in September 1972, a day after Martial Law was declared.

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Copyright © 2015 by Jeannette P. Morada.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/07/2015

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Author’s Note

Prelude

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

Epilogue

To my sons, Donny and Dennis, daughters-in-law, Reasey and Jenina, and to my granddaughter, Bailey.

To my siblings, Remi, Felein, and Helen, and their families.

To my former students and coteachers at Saint Joseph’s School, Pandacan, Manila, Philippines.

And to my friends and relatives.

Much love,

JPM

To God be the glory!

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance.

—Alexander Pope, An Essay in Criticism

Acknowledgments

To Arlene Dioquino, to Angelina Palacio Ojerio, to Macfelein Valenciano Palacio, and to all who have helped make this book-writing project to materialize, with love and gratitude for their visual perception and commitment.

To Mads Langer, with sincere thanks for his song, Fact Fiction.

And to God the Almighty for all the blessings.

Author’s Note

Mainly fiction but where there’s truth or fact, the names of the characters and the places were changed to protect those concerned.

Prelude

From some of Rain Dee’s and Jett Peace Moore’s chats and e-mails, certain revelations have been cleverly intertwined. Picture Rain’s inherent skills in love and why one would conclude that she has really mastered it.

Take pleasure and pick up great ideas or simply be with them as they both jump from one topic to another.

Can you relate with Rain’s experiences especially in love? Isn’t she one of a kind?

I

With Fact Fiction song by Mads Langer in the background, Rain Dee gleefully browsed the Facebook as she sat in front of her laptop computer which she just moved and placed on the rectangular coffee table in her contemporarily designed and decorated living room.

Brielle Peace found me on Facebook, and now we are Facebook friends, she announced in disbelief, like someone else were with her in those moments. She was all alone that cold, rainy, but not depressing morning on April 26, 2014, in Las Piñas City, Philippines, one of the fast-growing cities in the country.

Meanwhile, Jett Moore sat on the empty but well-kept queen bed she used to share with Dean Moore, her husband for over a month and a half short of thirty-five years.

She just finished her daily morning duty of watering the front lawn and the backyard plants, which was simply turning on the sprinklers; however, she did tend to the flowers in her garden—the plumbagos up in the slope with their blue flowers giving the horizon the blue-on-green bush atmosphere, the multicolored bougainvilleas, the white iris flowers that looked arranged in between their long narrow leaves, the blood-red poinsettias that lined the front wall, and the all-year-round golden-yellow sunflowers that filled the concrete boxes that lined the pathway and the front lawn. She had to cut the wilted ones, those overlooked by the gardener. Although virtually all the time, she hardly found any. She had already emptied all her trash and had already showered as well.

With her shoulder-length hair twisted and clipped upward, she looked fresh and content in her plain chartreuse cotton blouse and her wrinkle-free white pants she bought for a reasonable price from Ross.

She glanced at the digital clock beside the flat Samsung TV that was in front of her. It was 7:15 AM. Just then, she noticed that someone had texted her. She reached out for her cell phone, which was lying just on the side table on her left.

Guess who I found? It was from her sister, Brielle.

Who? Jett texted her back, knowing very well where she was—Facebook.

Rain Dee, Brielle continued.

Rain Dee was Brielle’s schoolmate at Saint Jerome’s School, Manila, Philippines, way back in the early seventies. Rain was a freshman when Brielle was a sophomore.

And Jett Moore, who was then on her third year of teaching and a transferee from another exclusive school, was Rain’s math teacher. She was Ms. Jett Peace then.

Both Brielle and Rain were quiet and shy, and although they knew each other, they were never friends. Brielle’s friends were few as she was not just new, she was the quiet, shy type but fascinating in her very silent, simple way. She had naturally shiny waist-long straight black hair partially tucked behind her ears, face likened to that of most of the Virgin’s statues, no lipstick yet lips so red, dying eyes, no makeup, nothing—just a puff of Johnson’s baby powder was enough. And with the school uniform, which was a white blouse and a dark brown pleated skirt that was, of course, below the knee, and comfortable black leather stringed shoes with ankle-high white socks, she showed readiness for school academics and extracurricular activities. She was then Brielle Peace, and Rain still had that on her mind.

Today, however, since she has been many