Home to Walnut Ridge

by Diane Moody

  He looked up, hoping she wasn’t expecting him to go there. Not tonight. He felt instant relief when she continued.

  “But until then, promise me something.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Promise me you’ll just take this‌—‌take us‌—‌one day at a time. Because for now, that’s all we need. Dad always drilled it into our heads that each day is a gift from the Lord, and he’s right.”

  He nodded, grateful she seemed to understand his hesitancy.

  “Noah, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, too. It’s been a long time since I . . . well, since I cared for someone the way I care for you.” Her smile widened as a touch of mischief sparkled in her eyes. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t melt like butter whenever you kiss me.”

  “Good to know,” he said, returning her smile.

  “But we both need to take this slowly. There’s no reason to rush into something more. So let’s take the pressure off and just take it one day at a time. Fair enough?”

  He felt a wave of relief drift over him. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning over to place a slow kiss on the top of her hand. “Fair enough.”

  After paying the waiter, Noah and Tracey took a short tour of the mansion then made their way to the door. The hostess thanked them for coming then opened the arched door for them. As she did, a dense fog rushed into the entry area like a dark and hungry serpent.

  “Oh my goodness,” Tracey said. “I’ve never see that happen before, have you?”

  Noah stepped back, speechless. The fog sweeping into this old house . . . just like the living, thriving cloud of darkness that so often curled its way into his heart. How often had he experienced this exact phenomenon? What he now saw with his eyes‌—‌a visual façade of the flood of depression that so often crept into his soul. A chill raced from head to toe, making him shudder.

  Tracey touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

  He looked at her hand, and for a moment wondered who it belonged to.

  She pulled him aside as another couple passed by, stepping out into the eerie abyss. He watched them, dreading having to walk through it himself.

  “Noah, what’s wrong?”

  He closed his eyes just for a moment, searching for something‌—‌anything‌—‌to grasp onto as the chilling darkness tugged at his heart.

  “Noah!” Tracey whispered urgently. She placed her hands on his face, cupping his cheeks. “Noah, look at me. What is it?”

  When he opened his eyes, he saw compassion and strength in her countenance. He breathed again, unaware he’d been holding his breath. Let her be your anchor. The words drifted through his mind like a soothing balm.

  “I’m okay,” he said, placing his hands atop hers. “I’m sorry. I’m not really sure what . . . came over me.” But, of course he did. “Let’s go home.”

  She smiled, though concern shadowed her eyes. “I’m ready if you are.”

  He held onto her as they navigated through the thick fog, unable to spot Buddy’s Buick until they were right upon it. Slowly pulling out of the parking lot, they made little headway down the winding, mountainous road, unable to see much of anything beyond the Buick hood ornament. The first half hour was treacherous. He kicked himself, thinking they should have waited out the heavy blanket of fog. Now, on this two-lane road, there was no turning back.

  Tracey rolled down her window, keeping her eyes locked on the yellow line separating the road from the shoulder. Noah kept his eyes glued to the center line. By the time they finally slipped out of the cloud, he was exhausted. Just a few miles from home, it began to rain. They said little the rest of the way, even when Tracey reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  Back at Walnut Ridge, Tracey had snuggled into his arms for a hug at the door before they parted. “It was unforgettable, Noah. The food, that historic old house, the bizarre ride home . . . what a night.” She leaned up to kiss him on his cheek, then she was gone.

  On his way back to the cottage, he wondered how such a perfect evening had been so quickly hijacked by the familiar, gripping oppression. He’d wanted tonight to be special‌—‌a chance to tell Tracey how much he liked her, how he found himself thinking of her first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. But he wasn’t sure he conveyed any of that to her. Instead, he’d been consumed with fighting off the haunting tug in the most fragile place in his heart.

  Maybe he was fooling himself. Maybe Melissa would forever live on, her memory so deeply imprinted into his soul, leaving no room for anyone else. Guilt gnawed at his gut, once again plaguing him with the peculiar thread of unfaithfulness to his wife.

  As he unlocked the cottage door, Noah pushed everything out of his mind, trying to pinpoint his sole focus on the image of Tracey’s face and the comfort he’d found there.

  If only that were enough.

  Chapter 17

  The next couple of days flew by. Tracey couldn’t get the strange night out of her mind, but did her best to sidestep her concerns as she and Alex worked long hours to finish the pieces to showcase in the shop. Occasionally they’d stop for a quick bite, but little else. She’d asked Alex if it was okay for her to take Saturday off, even asking if her sister would like to go along. Alex gave her the look.

  “But why not?” Tracey gently sanded the first coat of an armoire. “Think how nice it would be to take a break. All that fresh air in your lungs? C’mon, Alex, please?”

  Alex continued painting an old rocker. “First, I’m not a biker. Never have been. Never will be.”

  “But how do you‍—‍”

  “Second, I would much rather stay here and have a day with no interruptions. I’ll cue up one of my audio books and lose myself here with my kids.”

  “I know, but wouldn’t you‍—‍”

  “And third‍—‍” she looked up briefly, her eyes narrowing as she scratched her nose, “I have no idea what I was going to say. But thank you for asking, sister dearest. You go, have fun, enjoy the ride, and don’t worry about me.”

  “I’m not worried about you. I’d just like to see you do something fun now and then. All you ever do is work.”

  “I disagree, but the bottom line is, I’m having a blast doing this, Tracey. I love it. And I would not enjoy this trip. To be honest, I still hate motorcycles. I have to pray my sanity back every time Dad takes off on Stella. I’ve seen the remains of too many motorcycle accidents on the news. I can’t get those images out of my mind. I could never ‘enjoy’ spending a day on one.” She feigned a shiver. “Never, never, never.”

  “Okay, okay.” Tracey blew her hair out of her eyes. “I get it. No motorcycles. But would you just spend some time away from all this while we’re gone? If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”

  “Why would I do it for you?”

  “Because I asked!” Tracey teased. “I forgot how stubborn you are!”

  Alex touched up a couple spots on the rocker then balanced her brush across the top of the paint can. “Ah, I’m just stubborn because that’s what you expect me to be. I’m just a little teddy bear. You know that.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Alex stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “Trace, is everything okay with you and Noah? I haven’t seen him up at the house much these past couple of days.”

  Tracey pushed the annoying strands of hair from her face with the back of her wrist. “We’re fine. Not that we’re a we. To be honest, I’m not quite sure what we are.”

  “Are you okay with that? Not knowing?”

  “I think so. I’m just trying to give him space until he’s‍—‍” She looked up at her sister standing over her. “Until he’s ready for us to be an us. If that makes sense.”

  Alex brushed the hair out of Tracey’s face, tucking it beneath the bandana her sister wore. “It makes perfect sense. And I’m glad you’re willing to give him that space. He’ll come around. Eventually.”

  “You really think so? Sometimes I see th
is far-away look in his eyes, and I wonder.”

  Alex squatted beside her. “Yes, Trace. I believe he’ll come around. And I think you’re just the person to be there for him when he does.”

  Just before sunrise on Saturday, the bikers gathered at Walnut Ridge. As Tracey stepped out on the front porch, she watched as most of them busily buffed the finish on their Harleys. Buddy opened the door and joined her.

  “Why are they all polishing their bikes now? Won’t they just get dirty once they get on the road?”

  Buddy handed her his extra pair of protective sunglasses. “It’s a biker thing, sweetie. It’s like those show dog competitions on TV. You always see their owners fussing over them at the last minute, brushing their coats to perfection. That’s exactly how we feel about our Harleys. I suppose it’s a pride thing, wanting our machines to glisten in the sunlight. Look real sleek and classy while we’re on the road. Besides,” he said, heading down the steps, “Stella never lets me ride until she feels adequately pampered.”

  Tracey followed her father down the steps. “So why aren’t you over there dusting her off?”

  He grinned. “Stella likes to get up early. I gave her the spa treatment before any of these yokels showed up. She’s pristine and raring to go, don’t you think?”

  Tracey admired his glistening bike, shaking her head. “Stella, Stella, Stella. You are one lucky girl.”

  Noah joined them, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Morning, Tracey.”

  “Hi, Noah. Hey, that reminds me. I never asked‌—‌do you have a name for your bike?”

  He smiled. “Sure.”

  She waited, he said nothing. “Okay . . . is it a secret or would you mind telling me?”

  “Bike.”

  “Bike?”

  “What? You don’t like Bike?”

  She laughed, pinching his elbow which made him howl. “Bike. Such a creative, clever name for such a beautiful, sleek Harley.” She put her arm around his waist as he wrapped his arm around her.

  “I thought you’d like it.” He looked down into her eyes. “You ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Noah explained the protocol for group rides like this. Tracey was fascinated to learn how safety-conscious they were.

  “Your dad’s riding lead today. That means he’ll ride at the head of the pack, staying to the left side of the lane. The rest of us stagger behind him‌—‌right, left, right, left. Now, if you were riding solo and it was your first time, you’d ride in that second slot just to the right behind the lead. That way, we’d have you surrounded should anything go wrong.”

  “But since I’m with you, I won’t be treated like a newbie?”

  “That’s right. Just before we start up, Buddy will determine what hand signals we’ll use today. It’s important to know those.”

  “What kind of hand signals?”

  Noah extended his hand down toward the ground and pointed. “If you see Buddy or anyone do this, it means there’s something in the road that could be hazardous. Like pieces of tires, debris, that sort of thing. When he extends his left hand at a forty-five degree angle and moves his hand up and down, low like this, it means slow down. He may see something ahead that you can’t see, so you obey his lead.”

  “I always have,” Tracey quipped.

  He went through several other hand signals. Speed up, ride in a single line instead of two by two, stop, left turn, right turn, and pull off the road.

  “Well, all I can say is I’m glad you know what you’re doing. I’d be lost before we even left the driveway.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it. And you need to know the hand signals as well as I do. Keeps us both alert so we don’t take any chances.” He mounted his bike and motioned for her to do the same. “Hop on.”

  She started to the helmet on.

  “Hold off with that until Buddy gives his instructions.”

  “Oh, okay.” Tracey casually climbed onto her seat in back. “Is it true what they call these back seats?” she asked with a smile.

  He chuckled. “I’m afraid so. How about we call it a princess seat today instead?”

  “Much better.”

  Just then, a bike roared up the driveway. Tracey recognized the older model black Road King, knowing immediately it was Gristle. A young woman rode behind him covered head to toe in black leather. He pulled up beside them and cut his engine. Gristle pulled off his helmet.

  “Will someone please tell this pretty young thang that it is NOT cool to be late for a HOG ride?! GLORY, if the sistah don’t take fo-EV-ah to doll up her pretty lil’ seff and make me LATE!”

  She pulled off her helmet, a radiant smile filling her face. “Don’t you all be listenin’ to him. He was supposed to call me at six to make sure I was up. But did he call? No, he did not. It’s a miracle we got here at all!” She laughed, climbing off the bike. “Hey, bikers! Since Gregory forgot to introduce me, I’ll just do it myself. I’m Maleeka. And thanks for waiting for us.”

  Gregory? Then Tracey remembered Gristle’s real name‌—‌Greg Sells. She leaned over, extending her hand. “Hi, Maleeka. I’m Tracey, and this is Noah.”

  The introductions were made quickly through the dozen or so other riders, all men. Tracey knew most of them, introduced herself to those she didn’t. All the while Gristle carried on and on about his girlfriend’s disregard for biker protocol.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Tracey,” Maleeka said, climbing back on Gristle’s bike. “Gregory told me there’d be another girlfriend here today.”

  Tracey blushed at the term knowing Noah heard it. She caught a slight tilt of a smile before he turned back around. “I’m glad you came too, Maleeka.”

  “Okay, listen up!” Buddy called. “Looks like a beautiful day for a ride. Let’s go over our hand signals just to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

  He demonstrated the various gestures, many like the ones Noah had just shown her. After a few minutes, Buddy said. “Looks like we’re ready to ride. Let’s have a word of prayer.”

  For a moment, Tracey was surprised. It seemed odd for a bunch of bikers to bow their heads in prayer before taking off. Then she realized Buddy Collins would never miss an opportunity to pray before something like this.

  “Father, thank You for this spectacular fall morning. We ask for Your hedge of protection as we ride today. Give us safe roads and sweet, sweet travel. And as we ride, help us be mindful of the beauty surrounding us. The changing leaves. The wildlife. The clear blue skies. Help us ride with a mindset of praise and thanks for You and the glory of Your creation all around us. We give this day to You, Lord. And the people said?”

  “AMEN!”

  “Let’s ride!”

  As soon as helmets were in place, the bikes came to life, their roar eclipsing all other sounds on what had been a quiet Saturday morning. Boom boom boom! Boom boom boom! Tracey got goose bumps, feeling the rumble of the engine beneath her as it rocked the bike. With so many other engines revving to life, it felt like the ground beneath them literally trembled.

  Even with the thunder of so much noise all around them, she noticed the unique sound of the engines. Adjusting her headset, she asked Noah why.

  “It’s Harley’s trademark sound‌—‌potato-potato-potato. I love it, don’t you?”

  She smiled, watching Maleeka grab handfuls of Gristle’s black leather jacket, her eyes already squeezed shut behind her sunglasses. Tracey chuckled, remembering her first ride with her father not so long ago. Buddy led them all down the long driveway, everyone taking their place behind him just as Noah had described. Turning out of the drive onto the road, the cycles roared even louder, announcing their departure to the sleepy little town.

  As Noah pulled out onto the road, he took his place in the line-up and accelerated. Tracey couldn’t believe how exhilarating it was to be a part of this. “HEY, NOAH!” she shouted. “I LOVE THIS!”

  “You don’t have to shout, Tracey! Remember?” She watched his h
elmet shake side to side and imagined him rolling his eyes.

  She laughed. “Sorry about that! I can’t help it. This is GREAT!”

  Just as they were about to pass Emma’s Coffee Shop, she noticed someone holding a Styrofoam cup in one hand and making a bunch of animated motions toward the bikers with the other. As they passed, she recognized Deacon Stone‌—‌his face purple with rage, his mouth in angry motion. She could only imagine the contempt spewing out of his mouth.

  She shouldn’t have, but she couldn’t help it. As they passed, she waved at the gnarly old guy and with a big smile shouted, “GOOD MORNING, DEACON!”

  He clamped his mouth shut and threw the coffee cup down on the ground sending a splash of brown all over the sidewalk.

  “What’s his problem?” Noah asked.

  “He’s just hateful, that’s all.”

  “Obviously. But what’s that all about?”

  Tracey leaned back, proud of herself for no longer needing to clutch Noah’s back. “Actually, it’s kind of a long story.”

  “We’ve got nothing but time,” he said, turning his head so she could see his smile.

  “I think it all stems back to years ago‌—‌maybe ten or fifteen; I’ve lost track. Deacon has a son named Thad. Only child. And all along, I guess Deacon assumed Thad would grow up and work in the family real estate office. Problem was, Thad had no interest in real estate. And if you ask me, I bet he mostly just wanted to work anywhere but with his dad.

  “Thad was a smart kid. Really popular too. Quarterback of the football team, pitched for the baseball team. But he couldn’t handle all his dad’s constant pressure. So during his senior year in high school, he started visiting Dad at the church, asking advice on what to do with his life and how to follow his own interests when all the while his dad never let up on him. Dad counseled Thad, trying to help him find out what the Lord wanted him to do. And in the end, Thad wanted to go to Middle Tennessee State. He’d had all kinds of offers for football scholarships. Then, without telling his father, he signed with MTSU.