Night Skyy

by Rich Bullock

  She sucked in a breath, held it, and reached for the ATV for support. Sharp pain sent her back to all fours. This wasn’t going to work. The sounds of an approaching vehicle caught her attention. As mortifying as this was, she needed help. Through her dripping hair, she made out the side of a pickup as it stopped behind the ATV. The emergency flashers pulsed as the door opened and booted feet stepped out.

  “Skyy?”

  Canon Truax.

  Ninety minutes after the accident, Skyy stood under the hot shower spray, rinsing the last of the crusted mud from her hair. The wet heat eased the ache in her arms and back. But no amount of washing could cleanse the underlying embarrassment of needing Canon Truax to pull her out of the ditch.

  Ignoring her wishes, Canon had driven her—muddy hair, clothes, and all—to the clinic in Deer Cove for X-rays. Doc Arnold pronounced her bruised but unbroken. He suggested ibuprofen, a hot shower, then ice packs—exactly what she’d told Truax.

  Though irritated, she was grateful for his help. Ever since Loser Boyfriend deserted her, taking care of herself had been a necessity, and she’d grown comfortable with it. This dependency thing was nice in some ways, but itchy in others.

  When the water began cooling, she turned it off, toweled herself dry, and wrapped a spare towel around her hair. She should dry it now, but raising her arms above her head sent spasms down her back. Maybe ice would sufficiently numb the bruised muscles so she could handle the hairdryer.

  Her trusty sweats never felt so good as she made her way to the living room where Canon had a fire going.

  “How are you feeling?” he said, coming from the kitchen and setting a cup of coffee on the end table.

  She answered with a groan as she sank into the sofa. It took her minutes of careful maneuvering to get comfortable, time enough for Canon to return with ice packs wrapped in a beach towel.

  “Lean forward,” he said.

  His warm hands skimmed along her body as he adjusted the bundle between her back and sofa, sending shivers up her neck and down her arms that had nothing to do with the cold packs.

  “I can help you dry your hair later,” he said, his breath whispering against her neck as he leaned close. “Between my one good arm and your bad back, we can probably get it done, although I don’t claim to be an expert at styling.”

  He sank onto the sofa beside her, his warmth hotter than the wood stove. What was it about this man that he could produce chills and heat with a touch?

  Her eyelids drooped, her body giving in to the adrenaline depletion after the accident. The soothing hot shower and warm fire sealed her fatigue. The crackling flames filled the otherwise quiet room, and she realized this was the first place she’d lived with a real wood-burning fireplace. Hissing gas logs didn’t count. This was like another person in the room, breathing, moving, alive. Mesmerizing. Her eyes closed all the way.

  “Why are you barefoot?” he asked, rousing her from near slumber.

  “Couldn’t bend over that far,” she mumbled.

  He rose, leaving a void of cold where he’d been, but returned seconds later and lifted her right foot. She felt his hand working a thick sock over her toes, around her heel, and brushing the bare skin of her ankles as he pulled it up her calf. His fingers lingered for a few seconds, then he tugged the sweatpants’ elastic down over the sock. He repeated the procedure for her left foot, and she wished for the first time she was a four-footed animal. Or an octopus.

  “How are you not married, Truax?” she said as he settled beside her once more. Instead of laughing, he pressed closer along her side.

  “Never met the right girl before.”

  Although in near stupor, she was alert enough to process the before word slithering across her consciousness.

  Ember would be jumping and cheering if she heard Cop Hottie utter it.

  Chapter 28

  “Are you sure about this, Canon?” Ember gripped the steering wheel of his truck that he’d just turned over to her. He’d taken her place in the passenger seat. Although he tried to be stealthy, she saw him tighten his seatbelt.

  “It’s the best way to get completely comfortable,” Canon said. “Not much harder than Xbox.”

  That got her smiling. Skyy had evidently shared that tidbit about her driver training. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t driven through that storm with Skyy practically unconscious. Still, pushing the limits was something else.

  They were at the far edge of an empty parking lot in front of what was once a grocery store in nearby Blue Rock Harbor. A row of orange cones stretched down the length of the blacktop. She flexed her fingers, working out the stiffness.

  “Now,” he said, “just take it slow at first. We’ll build up speed as you go.”

  Ember pressed the gas and steered around the right side of a cone, then crossed the centerline and rounded the left side of the next one. After four or five, she began to get the hang of the right-left-right movement, and her steering became more fluid. Then she swung too wide around one and clipped the next cone when she under corrected. It thumped underneath the truck.

  “Whoops.”

  “Straighten out and keep going,” Canon ordered when she lifted off the gas. “Faster. Left, right, left, right…like skiing a slalom course. Look where you’re going, not at the cones.” He leaned his body left and right, matching words to motion and getting her to follow his lead.

  She focused on the bushes at the end of the track, feeling the truck round each cone rather than looking directly at them.

  “Good,” he said when she stopped at the far end. “Better than a lot of police candidates do on their first runs.”

  “Really?” She took a few deep breaths.

  “Yep. They’re too cocky, always trying to beat each other. That’s fine for some things, but driving is about concentration and controlled movements. The faster you go, the smaller the movements.” He pointed down the line. “Drive back so I can reset that downed cone and you can try again.”

  And she did. After ten runs, he had her practice accelerating from a standing stop, flying down the parking lot and slamming on the brakes when she reached a pair of cones. The tires squealed, and the pedal pulsed under her foot.

  “That felt weird,” she said.

  “It’s the Anti-lock Braking System. If a car is equipped with ABS, no matter how hard you stand on the pedal, the system turns the brakes on and off several times a second to keep the wheel from locking up and skidding. Really great in the rain. Practicing teaches you what it feels like to go beyond normal. Most drivers never try this except in an emergency, then they freak out.”

  After an hour, and before darkness fell completely, he had her backing up in a straight line, backing in left-hand then right-hand full circles, then doing the cone line again backwards while looking out the rear window and driving with only her left hand. That was super hard, and she knocked down nine of the cones. When fully dark, he had her make slalom runs with her headlights on.

  “Good job, Ember,” he said after they loaded the last of the cones into the truck bed. “I pronounce you ready for your driving test. After you pass the written one, of course.”

  “Thanks,” she said, climbing back into the passenger seat for the trip home. “I’ve practically memorized that dumb book. Did you know there are almost more rules in it about graffiti, when you can and can’t drive, and driving siblings or friends, than how to actually drive?”

  Canon laughed. “Yeah, I’ve read it. But you’ll do fine on both tests. You have good instincts.”

  His confidence in her was a new thing in her life—except for Skyy, who was always encouraging when she wasn’t sounding like a mom. Even the occasional mom voice was okay, just different from what she was used to.

  “You’ll be a good dad.” The words slipped out before she thought to stop them. “Sorry, I—”

  “You think so?” he said.

  “Sure.” She couldn’t leave it there. “I mean, dads have to teach their kids stuff, like
driving. You’re pretty good at this.”

  “Thanks,” he said, his voice quiet. His face was lit up by an approaching car’s headlights.

  “Was it hard when your parents died?” she asked.

  He nodded and took a deep breath. “It was. Still is. Mart and I weren’t ready for that at all.” He glanced at her, then back at the road. “But I guess you know a little about it.”

  “Yeah, well, my dad wasn’t ever there, so I didn’t really lose him. And Mom, well…”

  “Parents are important. They aren’t always the best at it, but most of them try hard.”

  “Skyy will make a good mom. You can do a lot worse, you know.”

  He laughed and looked over. “That your idea of a subtle hint?”

  It was her turn to laugh. “Just sayin’. And I don’t think I have to set you up.”

  He shook his head but said nothing.

  They drove toward Storm Lake in comfortable silence. But her mind was anything but quiet. She’d been thinking a lot about family since she’d turned eighteen, and more so when she’d met Skyy. Both their parents had majorly screwed up, yet Skyy had turned out okay, and Ember thought she was doing pretty good too.

  Mrs. Oso always told them they didn’t have to repeat the same mistakes their parents made. Ember believed that. Everyone made their own decisions, good or bad. She wanted to make good ones. But life wasn’t easy, especially when she was on her own. And with Skyy alone too, she sort of hoped they could be like a family.

  “What if kids could sort of pick their own parents?”

  It wasn’t until Canon laughed that she realized she’d said it out loud. He smiled at her. It wasn’t a dismissive smile like he thought it was a dumb question. More like he was thinking about it.

  But now with Bailey and Olivia here—and Canon—Ember’s relationship with Skyy was a lot more complicated. Before, it was only the two of them on the road. Now there were like a dozen choices instead of just one simple one.

  She put her head back against the headrest and flexed her fingers.

  “My driving with one hand making you nervous?” Canon asked, nodding to her hands. His lips teased another smile, but his eyes were serious.

  She shook her head, staring at the road ahead. Dark twists and turns. Until you got there, you didn’t know what was around the corner. She’d read something similar in one of the V.M. Narrano books Connie had lying around at DC Coffee.

  Life is full of choices. Make one. If it doesn’t work out, make a better one.

  That’s what she needed to do.

  “That was a pretty deep sigh,” Canon said. “Anything I can help with?”

  Ember sat up straighter. “I just made a decision.”

  “A good one, I trust.”

  She crossed her fingers and sent up a prayer.

  She sincerely hoped it was a good one—both the prayer and the decision.

  “Got it!” Ember said, grinning as she came out of the Mission Peak Motor Vehicles building the next day, waiving her driver’s permit. She leaned into the Cherokee. “Ninety-eight percent. Want me to drive?”

  “Go for it,” Skyy said. Her back was still sore from the ATV crash, so she couldn’t win an argument about who was the better driver. They switched seats.

  Ember started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. She handled the Jeep with ease, checking her mirrors regularly, and even heeding Skyy’s caution about not following a slow-moving van too closely. Of course, she’d had a lot of illegal driving practice before taking the written test, including the harrowing night they arrived at Canon’s cabin. Skyy had no doubt the girl would pass the actual road test with a high score too.

  “Mark’s got an old Suzuki Samurai at the garage that someone gave him as payment for fixing another car,” Ember said. “He said he’d sell it to me cheap if I help him reassemble the engine that the previous owner tore apart.”

  An unsettled lump formed in Skyy’s stomach. “Aren’t those the ones with a reputation for rollovers?”

  “Yeah,” Ember said, “but it has a roll bar.”

  “Oh goody. I feel sooo much better.”

  Ember laughed off the criticism as she flipped on her blinker and changed lanes. “Samurais got a bad rap because idiots drove them like sports cars. I won’t be doing that. It’s red and cute, and the soft top comes off, which will be awesome for around the lake in summer, don’t you think? And it’s four-wheel drive—in case of bad weather.”

  “Like another snow at Storm Lake?”

  Ember grinned. “It could happen.”

  “Sure, in twenty years.”

  “We’ll have to stick around and see.” Ember sent Skyy a pointed look.

  Skyy turned to the side window, watching the buildings give way to green hills as they headed up Highway 1. Everywhere else she’d lived after Loser Boyfriend had been short term, several months at most. She told herself it was exciting to see new places and experience new things. But maybe being constantly on the move was a guard against being disappointed—either by a place or by a relationship.

  In Ember, Skyy had found a friend, as well as someone who needed Skyy as a stable adult in her life. Skyy laughed at that absurdity.

  “What?” Ember asked, glancing sideways. “You think I’m making a bad move with the Samurai?”

  Skyy shook her head. “Just thinking.” But not about the car purchase. Ember had said we’ll have to stick around. As in them together. And since Ember made no secret she planned to stay in Deer Cove for a long time, she was laying the stay question all on Skyy.

  It was evident in how the girl inserted herself into the community, bringing home news about new people every day. Her front desk presence at DC Auto had already increased Mark’s business. People would stop by to talk with Mark, and before they left, Ember had scheduled an oil change, tire rotation, or other maintenance for their cars or trucks. Mark was already talking about bringing on a part-time mechanic.

  But it was her job as a barista at DC Coffee that quickly connected her in depth. Connie Langworth told Skyy that Ember excelled as a marketer. Nothing that she consciously did, she just was. People came into the shop to talk to her.

  As a natural introvert, Skyy could barely conceive of working such a job. Give her a microphone and an anonymous presence and she could do battle throughout the ether world. But face-to-face with people all day? Nope. So not happening.

  Perhaps that’s why she enjoyed the peacefulness of the rolling hills, the rocky Pacific coast, the beautiful lake. This place felt comfortable.

  And Canon Truax, a man who could be fun and spontaneous—she’d seen the pictures—could sit beside her for an hour without saying a word. Could she imagine a life at Storm Lake with a cop?

  “Canon?” Ember asked.

  Skyy turned. “What about him?”

  “You’re smiling,” Ember said, grinning herself. “I figure you’re fantasizing about our landlord.”

  “I wasn’t fantasizing. Not exactly.” She sighed. “Okay, maybe a little.”

  Ember laughed.

  Skyy’s smile faded. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I mean, the girls, a place to live, Canon. Even you,” she said, then hurriedly added, “Sorry, that came out all wrong. I didn’t mean—”

  “Hey,” Ember said, cutting her off. “I get it. A lot’s been dumped on you, starting with me.”

  “No, that’s—”

  “Just listen.” Ember made the turn onto the road that led toward Storm Lake, then pulled over and stopped in a gravel area. She shifted into Park and set the brake. She stared straight ahead, taking a few deep breaths.

  “Ember, what’s wrong?”

  She gripped the steering wheel hard enough her knuckles began turning white. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were different. Truthfully, I sort of dumped myself into your life.”

  “Ember, I didn’t mind.”

  “I know. But you didn’t have much choice. Now, I’ve got something else to ask you.”
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  “Anything,” Skyy encouraged. She’d do anything she could for the girl after that blunder.

  “It’s kind big deal. Huge.”

  “Ember…”

  “You’re going to think I’m nuts, especially after what you just said about all the pressure and decisions and...all.” She lowered the window and fanned herself with the cool coastal air. “But I’ve been thinking about this a lot.”

  “Is it something with the girls? If they’re too much, I can—”

  “I want you to adopt me,” Ember blurted out.

  “What?”

  “Sorry, sorry. I mean I’d like you to think about adopting me. I mean, now that I’ve got my permit and will soon get my license and have a car, I won’t be a burden to you or anything. I promise.”

  As stunned as Skyy was, she managed “You’re not a burden. Never.”

  Tears welled in Ember’s eyes, and her breath came in jagged cycles.

  “Since I’m eighteen and legally an adult, it’s a pretty easy process. Adoption, I mean.” She stared out the windshield. “I’ll save up money to pay the attorney fee, and it only takes a couple of months at most.”

  A couple of months? The girl had researched this.

  Ember turned, chin trembling, eyes downward. She swiped the wetness away. “I know we’re not exactly the ideal mother-daughter combo. I’m too old, and you’re too young. But even if I get married someday to a great guy, I don’t want to not have other family in the world.” She looked up, her eyes glistening. “You don’t have to be my mom mom and take care of me, but I want us to be a family. You and me.”

  Skyy’s tears were flowing now, too, but she made sure her mouth wasn’t open in shock. Ember hadn’t known Skyy for long. That this young woman trusted enough to even ask such a question…

  Ember wiped her eyes again. “When I have kids, you can be their grandmother.” She grabbed a napkin from the door pocket and blew her nose. “But only if you want to.”