Chloe's Secret

by Shelley K. Wall

  He started the class out with basic riding, stopping, and turns. After they were comfortable, he showed everyone how to deal with debris in the road and swerve to miss what they could. Then he let them try.

  He was determined to do it, have a life that is, and not dwindle into bad health by overworking himself like his dad had done. He had no idea what his life would look like, even less now that he’d moved closer to Grams. He’d thought the change would bring clarity but it hadn’t. It only served to make it easier to keep tabs on her, and God knows she needed it.

  Now, he lived above part of his new clinic, making it even easier to spend every waking hour working. Probably not the smartest move, but it certainly freed up his funds to help grow the business. And the apartment was spacious enough for now. His bike and truck fit nicely behind the building in the new garage he’d added.

  He was once again sidetracked and he shook his head to bring himself back to the class just in time to see Lizzie, an older woman who wore her hair in a braid and dressed as badass as she obviously hoped to become through the lessons. Her bike skittered past him with a roar, out of control, and she squealed.

  “Clutch. Clutch,” Colton called and started to run after her. “CLUTCH, LIZZIE.”

  And finally the woman pulled in on the handle clutch and slowed herself. Then, she also remembered the brake and came to a halt. But forgot to put her foot down because she was shaking so badly. The bike fell sideways and she landed across it. So much for a simple class. Last week’s progress had taken a step backward.

  He sighed. This was the part that happened from one to five times a class, and he hated to tell her. Some people just weren’t cut out for two wheels. He’d have to take her aside after the driving test, which she probably wouldn’t pass, and break the news. He’d let her take it last though and by that time, most of the others would be gone. If he was lucky, she’d figure it out herself before he had to be the bad guy.

  “You okay?” he asked as he caught up to her. Her eyes were wide as marbles, and her hands shook.

  “Yeah, sorry. I can’t quite get used to the clutch. I get so nervous.”

  “Let me help you up.” Colton gave her a hand and untangled fragile legs from the bike. Once standing, she started to pull the handlebars. “I’ll get it, these things are pretty heavy.” There was no way this little woman would ever lift it; her head wasn’t in it. He’d trained them all but for some it was a mental thing. He’d done it so many times lately it was a cakewalk but he was a big and fairly fit guy. He turned his back to it, bent his knees, cupped his fingers under the frame and heaved with his legs. When he was able to right it and drop the kickstand, he looked up and met Tess’ eyes. It startled him. Geez, she had a haunting way of watching people.

  Colton patted Lizzie on the back. “All good now.” Crisis averted. The woman, obviously agitated, stood next to the bike unwilling to get on. Colton recognized her fear; he clapped his hands and called the group in. “Lunch time.”

  While the class feasted on the spread that the office had brought over for their last day, he retreated to sit under a tree and call the clinics to get status updates. His other doctors covered all but the new clinic he’d taken, still he always wanted to make sure he’d appropriately staffed them and that they had the supplies they needed. He glanced at the group sitting a few feet away, also shaded by the line of Bradford Pear Trees adjacent to their training lot. One minute, he was watching Tess talk to the old woman, seemingly soothing her. The next he was blinking as goo trailed down his forehead and over his eye. Thankfully, he’d closed it. Crap.

  Bird crap, that is. On his head, no less. Some maniacal bird decided to nose dive over him and drop a bomb.

  Colton cursed and wiped the muck from his eye, wondering how he was going to get rid of the mess, and how bad it would smell by end of day.

  “You know it’s good luck, right?” The words came from Tess, whose voice he recognized, even with his eyes closed.

  “What?” Colton couldn’t really open the one eye yet. At least not without risking getting the nasty stuff in it.

  “Bird poop. It’s an old Chinese tale—or something. If a bird poops on you, it means good things are headed your way.” He felt a rough fabric against his head as she wiped at the mess.

  “That sounds like something someone made up to keep from feeling foolish when a bird pooped on them.”

  She laughed, and since she was standing right over him, he felt her breath against his forehead. “Maybe so, but I like it,” she answered.

  “So, how many times have you been pooped on by a bird?”

  “Once when I was ten. I was out riding around the neighborhood on my bicycle and one flew over.”

  “Who told you it was lucky?”

  “My dad.”

  Ah, smart guy. “Makes sense. His daughter comes in, traumatized by a kamikaze bird, and he has to pacify her somehow. She’s in tears, so he thinks fast and . . . lo and behold. An old Chinese proverb gets spouted that makes her see something other than shit on her face.”

  “No, it’s real.”

  He couldn’t help it then, she was so adamant. He knew it would likely irritate her but still, he laughed. Only a bit, and he almost didn’t recognize it. It had been a while since he’d really—laughed.

  “Would you prefer me to leave it, so that you can test the theory?” She quirked an eyebrow, holding the towel toward a trashcan.

  Swallowing the remaining chuckles, he grabbed her wrist before she let go. “No. No. I’m sorry. It’s just—I don’t know. Kind of like that make lemonade out of lemons thing. Dumb.”

  She pulled, trying to get her hand over the trash. “So, you’re calling me dumb now? Are you forgetting that I get to rate your skills as an instructor today, Mr. Big, Bad, Motorcycle Teaching Guy with bird crap on your head?”

  He couldn’t swallow the laugh that statement brought. He let it go, let it out and shook trying to hold her wrist at the same time. She threatened him. Him.

  “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t do that. But I get to decide whether you pass or not, so if you intend to get a driver’s license that says you’re safe on a bike, you’d better chill.” He dropped his hand from her wrist and reached for the rag he’d stuck in his pocket when he wiped the bikes down before class. He then finished her clean-up job, noticing that her lotion or perfume was now on his hand and the scent was unmistakable. How long that would last he didn’t know, but he liked it. A lot.

  “Well, if you’re going to put it that way. Truce?” She held out her hand as if to shake.

  He stared at it and blinked. “In that old Chinese proverb book of yours, is shaking hands with someone that has bird poop on their fingers even luckier?”

  Chapter 7

  I was a traitor. I was drawn toward one person yet keeping another’s secret from him. A secret that surely had to matter. I reminded myself that it wasn’t mine to keep. If Mona was ashamed of her relationship with Chloe, she wouldn’t have told me, right? At the time, she assumed she was discussing it with a random stranger who wouldn’t likely divulge it to her family though. Who was I to drop a bomb like that on Colton after all these years? Why should I be the one to let her grandson know she’d carried on a romance most of her life that didn’t involve his grandfather? Of course, I was assuming his grandfather was Robert. There was still a lot that didn’t make sense.

  For some reason, my work had become less of a burden after hearing this story. In fact, I had so enjoyed my carriage ride that I decided I’d splurge again next week. I had to limit it to once a week, the ride took almost the entire lunch hour and cost twenty bucks. Both the time and amount cut into my personal bank more than I could afford. Especially since I still had not achieved that promotion I desperately sought.

  I had to get that promotion. My condo was closing in on me. I had hinted a couple times to my boss but he seemed oblivious.

  As I stood watching the first person in our group do their “solo” ride with Colton observin
g and taking notes, I realized that my wish list of two weeks ago had expanded significantly. All I originally thought I needed was that promotion. Then I could get furniture and fill in the condo and maybe even meet someone worthwhile to bring home. Now, I wanted my rides with Mona so I could understand how a woman her age lusted after another lady all her married life. Plus, I wanted this motorcycle license. I hated to admit it but I really enjoyed these classes and I was anxious to get on Dad’s bike and ride it around the neighborhood.

  My thoughts screeched to a halt when Colton called my name.

  “You’re up, oh lucky one.” He squinted into the sun behind her and summoned with one hand.

  Sure, smarty pants. I reminded myself over and over that it wasn’t important, just an easy ride. In front of a very good looking guy that decided my success.

  My focus was dead on and as it often is when I’m immersed in something, I tackled the driving test head down with a fierceness he’d better not mess with. I only faltered a little during the figure eight turn, going a little outside the path but that was because he stood right in the middle. There was no way I was going to pass close enough to touch his leg, though I glanced at it. My falter was his fault and I’d tell him so if he decided to dock me.

  He didn’t and I passed. When I left that night, certificate in hand, Colton stood far away from our group talking with one of the students. I had an inclination to wait, but his conversation seemed rather intense so I didn’t. It was foolish of me to think he’d have anything to say now that the class was over.

  I went straight home, hopped on Dad’s bike, lifted the kickstand, and set the ignition to on. When I pushed in the clutch and gave it gas, all it did was click. Click, click, click.

  I tried again, same result. I wanted to kick it but knew if I did, my dad would probably return from the grave and kick me back. So, I dialed up the motorcycle shop where I’d signed up for the classes.

  “Hi, I’m Tess Richmond, I just finished your classes and was going to try taking my bike around for a while but I can’t get it started.” I tried to sound confident. If he laughed at me, I’d be pissed.

  He didn’t. “Does it make a sound?”

  “Yeah, it kind of ticks over and over.”

  “Your battery’s probably dead. Do you have a charger or jumper cables?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Okay, I can send someone but it’s going to cost—hang on a minute.” I heard a muffled sound and he obviously had put his hand over the phone. When he returned, I heard laughing in the background. “We’re gonna send someone over Ms. Richmond. He’ll be there within the hour. Can you give us an address?”

  I rattled off the street and number then hung up. When the rumble of a motorcycle approached, my stomach flipped. Surely they didn’t send—they did.

  “Hello, Lucky Bird.”

  “Just Tess, please. I don’t do nicknames.”

  “I do. What’s wrong? I was told you’re having trouble with a bike.” He followed me into the garage and I waved a hand at Dad’s motorcycle.

  How can the simple act of raising his leg over the bike and straddling it make me uncomfortable? After testing it, he hooked up a charger to the reluctant engine and plugged into the wall.

  “This is going to take a while. You can go in if you want.” He zeroed in on me as he motioned to the garage door.

  “And leave you out here alone? No, I’m fine.”

  “Don’t trust me, Tess?”

  I coughed. “It’s not that, I just thought—it would be kind of rude.”

  He shrugged, taking in my jeans and new riding boots, compliments of the store’s gift shop. “You hungry?”

  “You’re not coming in,” I said.

  “I wasn’t asking to. We can leave this running and go down to the café on Fourth Street. By the time we come back, it’ll be charged and ready. Unless you’re scared.”

  “Scared of you? Should I be?”

  He just looked at me. No smile. Nothing. “Maybe.” Then he pulled a helmet from the back of his bike and handed it to me. It was a simple dare without saying a word. He straddled his bike, scooted forward and waited, further daring me to resist. Which I didn’t.

  I did use my own helmet though, which I picked from the saddlebag of Dad’s bike and strapped on. I climbed right behind him, and dropped my hands to rest on my thighs. No way was I putting them around him. That would be way too personal. Then he leaned into the curve at the end of my street and I had to grab hold to steady myself. He looked down at my fingers clutched into his hips, then gunned the engine. We were at the café in less than five minutes, a very long five minutes.

  I thought I understood where my dad came from when he gave me the bike. Of his two children, I was the serious one. The workaholic with no hobbies, or social life. Riding on the bike with the wind in my face (except when it was obstructed by the sizable guy in front), smelling the restaurants, cut grass, flora, even the asphalt was incredibly invigorating. It forced me to relax, to slow down.

  “You know you’re eventually going to catch a few bugs if you don’t keep your mouth shut on the road,” Colton reminded me to sober up from my silly grin while he stowed the helmet back in his side bag.

  “I hadn’t thought about that. I never would have pictured me doing this to begin with.”

  He opened the door for me to enter. “Then why’d you get the bike?”

  “I didn’t. My dad gave it to me. It sat in their garage for the past two years and Mom decided she didn’t want it taking up space anymore so she had my brother drop it off. I figured if Dad wanted me to have it, I’d better at least give a try.”

  “You expected that you’d hate it, didn’t you?”

  We ordered food before I answered. “I didn’t intend to hate it, but I wasn’t planning to enjoy it much either. I felt like I owed it to him.”

  “Well, now you can go riding with him . . . he’ll like that. It’s always better to go with someone and a good way to enjoy the weekends. The store always has group rides somewhere if you want to sign up and join. He’d probably like that too. Does your mom ride?”

  “My dad’s dead.”

  That startled him. He frowned. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault he had a heart attack.”

  He obviously didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just scooped a bite off his plate and chewed. I felt guilty for making him uncomfortable, so we sat silently eating for a few minutes before I spoke again.

  “How long have you been riding?”

  “Just a few years. It was my first purchase after I got my veterinarian license, the only thing I splurged on.”

  I surveyed the room, noticing that it was relatively crowded and bustling with people, most of which nodded at him.

  “You must be famous around here.”

  “I take care of a lot of these people’s animals so I see them once in a while. You have any pets?”

  “Why, are you trying to drum up business?”

  He smiled one of those rare smiles. “I don’t need to, I was just asking. Sometimes I tend to figure people out based on the types of animals they have, and how they handle them. The bald guy back in the corner there? If you just look at him, you think he’s a farmer. Maybe a shepherd or collie at home, right?”

  I looked over his shoulder, trying not to be blatant. “A blue-heeler would be my guess.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s a good choice. No, he has four small, white, fluffy dogs he takes to the groomer every other week. The most spoiled little yappers you ever saw.”

  I squinted at the guy. “Really? He doesn’t look at all like he’d be caught dead walking dogs like that.”

  “They’re his wife’s dogs. She has cancer and is at Region’s General in treatment. He’s meticulous with them and I think he just does it because she’s so devoted to them.”

  My throat closed up. I was a sucker for sad stories and that one automatically made me weepy. “Is she going to be okay?”

>   “I don’t know. I’ve been afraid to ask. I usually don’t like to get real nosy with people. The only reason I know she’s in treatment is because Abby, the waitress, is also a customer. She has three cats, all from the shelter, and I neutered one of them a couple weeks ago. Actually, all of them, she just keeps coming back. She’s kind of a talker.”

  I glanced at the woman carrying a pitcher of tea between the tables, noticing that she had looked at me more than once. “So, does that mean I’ll be up for discussion among the locals too?”

  He shrugged. “Probably. I wouldn’t recommend telling the bird shit story.”

  “Why not? I’m not the one who got dive-bombed. That story would only affect you, not me.”

  “I didn’t peg you for a gossip, Tess.”

  I waved at the girl and pointed at my empty tea glass.

  Under his breath, Colton muttered, “You do, you die, girl.”

  I raised a brow at his threat, but kept my mouth shut and smiled sweetly.

  “How’s life treating our most eligible vet these days?” the woman asked without looking at either of us.

  “Not bad, did that fur-ball you saved recover okay?” Not exactly great bedside manners for a veterinarian.

  “She’s fine and it turns out she’s very feisty. She’s taken to sleeping in the bathroom window, which gives the birds outside a heart attack since it’s level with the tree.”

  “Make sure she gets some exercise or she’ll be as fat as your other two.”

  “Maybe you should stop by and check on them when you get a chance.” I wondered if he’d done that a few times before. She seemed a little too close to his arm in my opinion. Well, actually, close would be the wrong word. She was rubbing her chest against his shoulder as she leaned to fill my tea glass from his side. He ignored the touch and her comment.

  “Tess, you about ready to ride? Once you finish that new glass of tea, that is.”