Betting on Love

by Alyssa Linn Palmer

  They came to a stop behind a line of cars and Will craned his neck, looking over the dozen or so vehicles ahead of them. “We’ll be able to get on this one,” he said. “It’s big enough and they’ll find a spot for our bikes.”

  “I hope so. I don’t want to wait another hour for the next one.” Alex unzipped her jacket partway, letting the light breeze cool her off. The sun was hot on this exposed stretch of road, unlike the section they’d just been through, bracketed by pine trees.

  “We won’t,” Will said confidently. “Two bikes will fit in between the cars, even if we don’t get a full spot.”

  “Right. I hope they have coffee. I’m going to need it.”

  They inched forward as the cars tightened in the line, eager to get on board the ferry. Will inched ahead of her and thumbed his nose.

  “Oh, please, you’re only a few inches ahead. Save it for when we get off the ferry at the other end.” Alex rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Will shot back with a laugh. “I’ll be first off the boat, and you’ll be eating my dust.”

  Alex flashed him her middle finger in retort.

  Her bike jerked forward, wobbling precariously, and she scrambled to get her hand back on the handlebar, but it was too late. She felt the bike falling, and she tried to keep it upright, but her balance was off.

  She landed hard on her right hip, her helmet clipping the asphalt, rattling her head inside, the weight of the bike pinning her down.

  “Fuck.” Her leg hurt, and the engine lay heavily on her boot as she tried to shimmy free. She heard Will shouting and saw him come up beside the bike, gesturing furiously at someone, or something. Alex turned to look over her shoulder. A half-ton pickup truck was behind them, and its owner stood in front, shouting back at Will.

  “You fucking idiot,” Will shouted. “Watch where you’re going!”

  “You bikers shouldn’t be allowed on the road,” the driver retorted.

  “Will,” Alex said, trying to get his attention. Her voice came out a pained croak, to her surprise. She tried to shove at the bike, but the angle was bad and she had no purchase. The bike shifted harder into her ankle and she winced.

  “Babe, you okay?” Will lifted the bike, and she grabbed at the asphalt, pulling herself out from under the bike. He righted the bike and propped it on its kickstand. Alex rolled to her knees. She tried to stand. The pain shot through her leg and she saw stars, her vision narrowing.

  “Fuck,” she muttered, catching herself as she fell forward, taking the brunt of the short fall on her forearms. She’d never had an icepick jammed into her leg, but she would bet money it felt a lot like what she felt now.

  She rolled to her back and sat up, gritting her teeth. Her chaps were dusty but not torn, and her boots looked the same, but for…oh God. Her right foot sat at an unnatural angle. Alex took a deep breath, then another, willing herself not to be sick. She was tough, she could take it. With shaking hands, she pulled off her gloves and fumbled with the strap of her helmet.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Will said, dropping down beside her.

  A crowd had gathered by the time Alex got her helmet off, but she didn’t look at them.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked Will, not willing to look at her foot again.

  “Looks it, babe,” he said, serious for a change.

  A man stepped forward. “I saw what happened,” he said, “I was in the line beside yours. That truck hit your back wheel solid, and you went down.” He glanced at her foot. “You’ll need a hospital. It looks like it’s broken.”

  “Where’s the nearest?” she heard Will ask.

  “Take the ferry over and go to Nelson, I think,” the man replied.

  She heard other voices, a man’s voice raised in anger and a cool baritone responding to him, but she couldn’t make out the words.

  The man crouched down on her other side, glancing at her, then at Will. “I’m Richard,” he said. “We can lift you, take you to my truck. It’s just a few feet that way.” He pointed to a large black truck, with a quad in the back. “It’s got a full cab, we can put you in the backseat and you can stretch out.”

  “But my bike…”

  “We’ll leave your bike here,” Will said. “We can get it sent back somehow.”

  “There’s space for the bike too,” Richard said. “But we won’t make this ferry before we can get it loaded.”

  “I’ll wait,” she said through gritted teeth. “We’re not leaving the bike.”

  “Stubborn,” Will muttered, but he smiled at her and made a face.

  “Damn right.”

  Richard and Will worked together and scooped her up, carrying her carefully toward the truck. Will held her while Richard opened the door, and they set her up onto the seat.

  “We’ll get the bike now,” Richard said. “You okay here for a few minutes?”

  Alex nodded, but when that made her head swim, she stopped.

  “Lie back,” Will advised. “We’ll get this sorted.”

  Alex let herself sink back stiffly onto the soft cushioned seat, and she closed her eyes. The pain was a dull throb now, not the sharpness that she’d felt when she’d first fallen. She tried to move her foot and the pain intensified. Not a good idea. Deep breaths. She counted her breaths until the pain returned to the dull throb. Thoughts zipped through her mind: she’d have to have the boot cut off, how would she get her bike home, what would she do about work. She shifted again and her vision narrowed and went black.

  *

  Elly took her mother’s spiral pad with her from room to room, taking notes on a massive to-do list. Though Hamilton had nixed their agreement, she knew she’d need to work hard to get the farmhouse ready for sale. Her parents weren’t exactly hoarders, but her father had pack-rat tendencies and her mother had enabled him. She thought of Alex’s place, the stark minimalism of her living room, and she wished that she could make a similar home for herself, albeit one with more of a homey feel. If she bought a condo in Calgary or found a small house in the suburbs, she could decorate to her heart’s content.

  On a new page, she started a list of items she wanted to take with her, those little sentimental things she knew she’d never be able to do without. The framed painting on the living room wall that her great-grandmother had painted; the collection of china, slightly mismatched, from both sides of the family; the quilts on the beds. And, if she was honest with herself, a few other things as well. If she wasn’t careful, she would end up with a place that looked like a pack-rat’s haven.

  Elly paused at the foot of the stairs. The sun was low in the sky, and she hadn’t realized how much time had passed. She headed into the kitchen and set the notepad on the kitchen table. She could take the table. The old Formica was her favorite, even with the chips and marks from decades of use.

  She heard the rumble of a truck coming down the road and she leaned over the kitchen sink, craning her neck to look out the window. Jack pulled into the driveway, his truck jouncing over the ruts. He got out, and she could see his hard-set face, a frown marring his features.

  Jack knocked but didn’t wait for her approval before he came inside. “El? You here?”

  “In the kitchen,” she called back.

  He came through, his steps heavy on the linoleum floor. “You can’t sell your land to Hamilton,” he said, not even letting her speak. She opened her mouth to explain, but he plowed forward. “The man’s a crook, and he doesn’t care about anything but money. He’ll make it a feedlot, and it’ll ruin the watershed on the quarter section. And it’ll be horses for sure—I heard from a friend of mine whose brother was angling for a deal with Hamilton.”

  “Wait. Just wait,” Elly said, holding up a hand.

  “I won’t wait. You can’t say anything that will convince me,” Jack said. “That fellow is bad news.”

  “Hamilton withdrew his offer.” Elly raised her voice over his rambling, stopping Jack in his tracks.

  “What
?” Jack looked flabbergasted.

  “Someone called the MLA, who told Hamilton that he would make sure approval never came through.” Elly crossed her arms. “I don’t know if I would have signed, but now I can’t even make that decision.” A sudden fury rose in her. She hadn’t wanted the farm to be a feedlot, but the interference of the townspeople frustrated her. She used to like that small-town family feel, but lately it had been irritating her. Maybe she was getting used to being in the city, and being truly on her own.

  “Thank God.” Jack relaxed, the frown fading, his features shaping into the easygoing pleasantness they always had.

  “Not thank God, not at all,” Elly snapped. “I want to get on with my life, but if I can’t sell the farm, I’m stuck. I could have sold it.”

  “Sell it to me.”

  “Jack, we’ve been over this.” A million times, she thought.

  “I know, but I can get a loan, I know I can. I’ve been talking to the bank, and they’re considering it.”

  “Can you give me half a million?” Elly asked bluntly. There would be no beating around the bush. Hamilton had offered her exactly what it was worth, and no more. Noreen had confirmed that with the appraisal.

  Jack’s happy demeanor faded. “No,” he admitted.

  “Then I don’t know that I can sell it to you.”

  The phone jangled.

  “You don’t even know how much I’d offer,” Jack retorted. “It wouldn’t be half a million, but it would still be worth your while.”

  “Is it close to that?” Elly moved to answer the phone, but Jack held out a hand.

  “Don’t take any other offers until I can get something together…please, El?”

  “I don’t know, Jack.” She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Elly?”

  The voice was unfamiliar. “Yes? Who is this?”

  “It’s Will.”

  “Will? Why are you calling?” Elly’s hand tightened on the faded white plastic receiver. Will had no reason to call her. A twinge of jealousy shot through her. Alex’s best friend and FTF, as Charity put it.

  “It’s Alex,” Will said. His voice sounded tired, the words coming across the line with reluctance.

  “What’s happened?”

  “El, hang up. You need to promise me—” Jack stepped up beside her, but she held up a hand.

  “She’s hurt. We’re in the hospital in Nelson. She fell off the bike.”

  “Oh my God.” Elly sank against the counter, clinging to it as her knees trembled. “What happened? Will she be okay?” She thought of how fast they’d gone on the bike, how dangerous it would be to fall from a bike going at such speeds. Alex could be paralyzed, broken, bloody. Elly’s stomach roiled. She’d only just started to think of a real possibility of being with Alex, and now it was over.

  “Some asshole rear-ended her, and the bike fell over and fell on her. She broke her ankle. Probably two or three bones, the doc said.”

  Elly let out a breath. Not dead. “I wish she would be more careful.”

  “More careful?” Will sounded incredulous. “She was careful as could be. If she hadn’t been wearing her boots it would have been way worse. Jesus, Elly.”

  “Sorry,” Elly replied, taking another deep breath. “It’s just…”

  “Whatever,” Will said. “She wanted me to call you so you wouldn’t worry.”

  “How are you going to get home if she’s broken her ankle?”

  “She can’t ride, and the doc is debating doing surgery, so we might be a couple of days. She’ll have to stay overnight, he said.”

  “Should I come out? How far is it to Nelson?”

  “Do you have a trailer on your farm?” Will asked.

  “A trailer?” That wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask.

  “Yeah, for Alex’s bike. We can’t leave it here, and she can’t ride it home.”

  “I—” Elly considered the outbuildings on the farm. It was possible, but she didn’t know for sure. “I might. I don’t know.”

  “Find out.” She heard an announcement on the PA in the hospital, a garbled voice. “Look, I’ll give you my number. Call me when you know. Otherwise I’ll have to find another way for Alex to get home, and she’ll have to leave her bike here. And I can tell you, she’s already angry at me for suggesting it.”

  He recited his number and she jotted it down at the top of the notepad page with her list. “I’ll call you soon,” she promised.

  “Good.”

  She heard the dial tone and slowly hung up the phone.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked. He set his hand on her shoulder. “You all right? You’re pale as a ghost.”

  Elly shrugged off his comforting hand and went to the door, bending to pull on her rubber boots. She grabbed her jacket and put it on. “Alex is hurt, and in BC. I have to get things sorted, then head out there.”

  “Alex?”

  “You remember Alex? Girl with the motorcycle?”

  “Oh.” Jack flushed, obviously remembering that spectacular kiss, now so long ago. That’d been some day. She headed outside. Jack followed her out.

  “About the farm?” he asked.

  “Put together an offer and submit it to Noreen Perrers in Cardston. She’s my real-estate agent,” Elly said over her shoulder as she headed toward the sheds near the barn. Selling the farm could wait. Her father had all sorts of stuff in there, and she was almost certain there was a trailer.

  “You’ll have it soon,” Jack called out. She didn’t answer but heard his truck door slam, and his engine start up.

  She went into the nearest shed, keeping the door propped open when the overhead light clicked ineffectively. Shelves lined the walls, loaded with tools and various other bits and bobs that she couldn’t identify in the gloom. There was no trailer. She tried the next shed, whose light still worked. The clutter here was similar, but where there had been a large work table dominating the other shed, this one was mostly clear, though there was a load of gear piled to one side. She shifted a tarp and several old rakes and saw the glint of steel, and of a set of wheels. After clearing things away, the small trailer came into view. Would it be big enough for the bike?

  Elly eyed the trailer, trying to remember the bike’s dimensions, imagining how it had felt under her. It might just work. She went and pushed the shed’s doors open wide and slowly dragged the trailer out into the yard. Her car had a proper hitch, so that wouldn’t be a problem. She tested the strength of the sides; the wood creaked a little under her hand when she tried to move it, but it seemed solid enough. The tires seemed in reasonable shape, though she’d need to find her dad’s tools and check the pressure.

  Back in the shed, she folded up the tarp and found a coil of rope on a shelf, and a faded old tie-down strap. Several black rubber bungee cords sat nearby, but when she picked one up, it nearly disintegrated in her hand, turning her palm black.

  “Ick.”

  She hauled the rope, strap, and tarp out to her car and stashed it in the backseat, then went back into the house to wash her hands and call Will. She’d need directions. And she needed to know how Alex was. Their last night together had been just about perfect. As she dried her hands on the towel, she realized she was shaking.

  “Alex is fine,” she repeated to herself. “Just fine.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alex eyed her foot in its brace when Will swept the sheet off her leg. Her head swam from the pain medication, but the foot seemed all in one piece now and not bent at an unnatural angle.

  “How many plates?” she managed to ask.

  “Just one, I think,” Will said, sitting down on the side of the bed. His leather jacket lay on the chair nearby, along with hers, and he still wore his chaps.

  “Where’s all my gear?”

  “Your helmet’s with your bike, in the saddlebag, though it’s done for. All your luggage and extra clothes are there too. I brought you a clean shirt and stuff.” He pointed to a bag on the floor by the
chair. “The nurse said you can wear a pair of scrubs home, since you won’t be able to get any of the rest of your jeans over that brace.”

  “The rest of?”

  “They cut your jeans off, babe,” Will replied. “And”—he winced—“your chaps. But you can buy another pair.”

  “Dammit.” Alex tried to control the fury, but she couldn’t. “They could have unbuckled them. Idiots.” Her fist hit the bed beside her.

  “The docs say you can go home whenever you want. They’ll forward your information to the Foothills in Calgary and you can get a follow-up there.”

  “How am I supposed to get home? Riding on the back of your bike?” She rubbed her eyes.

  “Nope, no passengers on my bike,” Will joked, though it sounded halfhearted to her.

  “How, then?”

  “I called Elly. She’s got a trailer and she’s going to bring it out, so we can take your bike back, and you.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Alex closed her eyes and sighed in relief.

  “She sounded freaked, just so you know.”

  “Did she?” Alex asked. Her mind felt foggy and her body was heavy, sinking into the bed. She heard Will chuckle.

  “Sleep, babe. I’ll wake you when Elly gets here.”

  *

  Elly found the roadside motel easily, her eyes burning with exhaustion. It had been a long drive to Nelson, longer than she’d expected. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and crash. She pulled into the parking lot, found a space usually reserved for RVs, and cut the engine. A motorcycle sat outside one of the rooms, an R6. Will’s? She called his cell and he answered after two rings. “I’m here.”

  “Cool.”

  She saw a figure step out from the room. He waved, and she waved back. “I see you.”

  “Come on in, there’s two beds,” he said, then hung up.

  Elly yawned, then wiped her watering eyes. She grabbed her overnight bag and headed across the parking lot to the room. Will had left the door open and she stepped inside. The TV was on, and he was watching racing, stretched out on the bed nearest the door, his head propped against the headboard.