by Nicole Fox
Ariel had come easily into the world, if not conveniently. I had gone into labor around two in the morning, surprised by the heavy feeling in my belly and the painful contractions. I had reached over to shake Snake’s shoulder, but he was awake as soon as my fingers had brushed his skin. “What’s wrong? What is it?”
“I think we’re having the baby!”
The hospital workers had given Snake some interesting looks, surprised to see a tall, tattooed biker in a leather vest be so attentive to the mother of his child. I had been happy to see that he ignored them completely, focusing on me and the baby instead. He never left my side except when the doctor asked him to step back so they could administer the epidural.
“It’s a girl!” the doctor had announced only a few hours later. “And she’s beautiful!”
I had known she would be even before I saw her, but I fell in love all over again when they placed her on my chest.
Snake had reached out one large finger to touch her tiny hand, smiling when she clutched at him. “She’s amazing,” he had said as he kissed first my forehead and then hers. “You’re amazing.”
With a fresh change, Ariel was content once again. I brought her back down the stairs. Even though we had lived in this home for several months, I never got tired of looking at it. The money from the bet—which Rusty had forwarded to us along with a little extra cash they had donated as a baby gift—had been plenty to put down on the house. It still needed some work, as it had been coated in old wallpaper from several decades ago and most of the flooring had to be ripped out, but it was structurally sound. Ariel had a generously sized bedroom, there was a garage where Snake could work on his bike, and I had my own little office. Most importantly, there was a big backyard where we would be able to play with our daughter once she got a little older. In our quiet neighborhood, we really had started over. We hardly talked about our old lives at all anymore, eager to leave them behind.
I descended into the formal living room. While it wasn’t formal just yet, it certainly had the potential to be. It had lots of big windows across the front near the door, and a set of French doors that separated it from the rest of the house. It had been my favorite room when we had looked at the place with the realtor, and I dreamed of filling it with beautiful furniture and wall hangings. It would be the perfect place for a future Christmas tree in the front window, with garlands winding up the banister. For now, it held a corner lamp and a sofa. “What do you think, Ariel? Should we paint these walls a pale blue? Or maybe a bright yellow? And I was thinking hardwood for the floors, maybe maple. Or we could go a little darker and do walnut.”
As always, the baby simply studied me with curiosity if not understanding. I had made a habit of talking to her constantly, telling her about everything I saw and thought. After I was already doing it, I had read that it could help babies learn to speak and understand language better. If that was true, then it would be a pleasant side effect. I loved talking to her regardless, and she didn’t seem to mind.
We moved into the hallway, past the dining room and the kitchen, to the main living room where we had a flat-screen television mounted on the wall and a furniture set that we had purchased on credit at a local outlet. The overstuffed sofa, recliner, and loveseat were a comfortable place to lounge together as a family during the evenings, and we had made sure the fabric could be easily cleaned in case Ariel spit up on it.
In this room, Snake had already pulled down all the existing green plaid wallpaper and painted it a pale coffee color. The floor was unfinished yet, with just subflooring in place, but we had plans to go to the home improvement store the following weekend and make our final decision. He had been spending every spare moment he had working on the house when he wasn’t at his day job at a motorcycle dealership in the next town. I often set the baby down and tried to help him, but he rarely let me do so for more than a few minutes at a time. “You have more important things to do,” he would say when Ariel began to fuss. “I’ll take care of this.”
As the baby and I walked past the living room windows, I saw the mail truck come bobbing up the road. It paused for just a moment at our mailbox before it headed on down to the next house.
“Let’s take a little walk outside,” I suggested as I opened the door. It led out to a partially covered porch which served as a breezeway to the large garage. “It’s beautiful outside today.” Meandering down the drive, I pointed out flowers, birds, and trees even though Ariel couldn’t really see them yet. Someday, I hoped to be able to write a children’s story for her. Maybe it would be about a little bird who was afraid to do anything on her own until she found out what fun she could have. That little bird, however, would still love to come back to the loving wings of her mother at the end of the day.
I grabbed the stack of envelopes in one hand and shut the mailbox. I smiled as I walked back to the house, excited about the fact that the stack was so thick. While most folks might imagine it to be bills or junk mail, I had a good feeling it was more.
When I came back in the door, I heard Snake in the kitchen. “There you are,” I said pleasantly, walking in and setting the stack of mail on the table. “I was beginning to think you’d be working in the garage all day. I’m glad to see you’re taking a lunch break.”
Snake opened the fridge and retrieved a package of salami, some cheese, the jar of mayonnaise, and a bottle of mustard. “I might not have, except that I happened to look up at the clock. I was getting pretty involved in my work.”
“How’s that old bike doing, anyway? Is it everything you thought it would be?” Snake had purchased a vintage motorcycle with the rest of the money from the bet. He had looked it over thoroughly and deemed it worthy of fixing up and reselling.
He grinned as he assembled his sandwich. “Better than you might think. I know you weren’t too sure about it. I saw that look on your face when I brought it home. But I’ve just about got the engine put back together, and it should be ready for a new paint job by next week.” Snake took a big bite and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling while he thought. “I hate to spend the day working on it when I could be gutting the downstairs bathroom or peeling wallpaper, but the money I stand to make on this deal will really help finance all the remodeling.”
I blinked. “Really? You think you can get a decent price for it?”
His smile grew even wider. He had a trick up his sleeve. “Sweetheart, I know I can. I already have a buyer for it. A guy came to the dealership last week looking for just this sort of bike. Of course, we had nothing like it on the floor or in the lot. You know Harvey. He only wants the cleanest, most popular styles in his inventory, but that doesn’t suit everyone.”
“Isn’t he going to be angry that you’re selling something to this guy on the side?” I had worried a lot ever since Snake had decided to leave the Warriors and settle down. I worried about whether or not he would be truly happy if he wasn’t on the road, even though motorcycle club life was not one that was suited for a young family. Even more so, I worried about money. With his looks, Snake couldn’t get a job just anywhere. Most places didn’t want to hire an ex-biker with intense eyes and tattoos, even if he were to agree to wear business casual attire. But the dealership had been a good opportunity for him. Snake enjoyed both selling and fixing bikes, and the hours weren’t too bad. I didn’t want him to lose this job until he was ready to move on to something else.
Snake finished another bite of his sandwich and turned around to rip a paper towel off the roll on the counter. “I’m sure he would be if I hadn’t asked him first. When this customer couldn’t find anything he liked, I stepped into Harvey’s office and told him the situation. He said to go right ahead. Harvey figured if I was helping the guy out, he might come back to the dealership in the future when he needed something else.”
I beamed at him. Ever since we had started this new life together, he had found a way to make everything work. Every time I worried that things would fall through or that we wouldn’t have enough mon
ey, it all came through just fine. “What color are you going to paint it?”
“I hadn’t really decided yet, but the customer says he wants it to be a nice dark green so that’s what I’ll do.” He polished off his lunch, wiped his hands once again, and reached out for Ariel. I transferred her into his arms, and she stared at the shiny zipper on his jacket. “I think he’ll be thrilled with it, and I just might take a little bit of money from the sale to buy another bike if it’s all right with you.”
How could I say no? It made him happy to have his side job and provide a little extra money for our budget, and he definitely knew what he was doing when it came to motorcycles. “Of course.”
He was focused on Ariel now, his face soft as he stared down at her. “I’ve got one in mind that I saw online the other day. I just kind of dismissed it since I hadn’t sold the current one yet, and I didn’t want to get too far ahead of myself. But now that I know I have a buyer, it’s a different situation. Isn’t that right, Ariel? Daddy’s going to get a new bike, and he’s going to make it all pretty. Maybe someday he’ll make one for you.”
The little girl gurgled at him pleasantly.
“I think she likes that idea,” I remarked, imagining how adorable it would be once Ariel was old enough to ride behind Snake on his bike. Of course, she would have all the appropriate safety equipment instead of just jumping on wearing a pageant gown. And I knew I would never need to worry about anyone taking advantage of her and talking her into doing things she didn’t want to do. We would teach her early on that she was a fierce, independent woman.
“What came in the mail?” Snake asked.
I had nearly forgotten about it at this point. I turned back toward the counter where I had set the stack of envelopes and began to sort through them. “I’m hopeful for some good letters from the paper today. When I first started writing for the Myrtle Creek Messenger, I really wasn’t sure anyone would be interested. The editor assured me they would read my column, but I just didn’t believe her. After that first letter, they’ve just been increasing in volume each week.”
When the editor for The Messenger had first contacted me about writing an article, I had thought she was joking. Once she convinced me she was serious, I had turned her down anyway. There was no way anyone would care about what I had to say now that I had shamed the town and left.
But after a day or two, I had called her back. I wanted to be a writer, after all, so it would be foolish to turn down a paid position at a professional paper. It would be a good credit on my resume at the very least. I wrote the first article and crossed my fingers.
The readers soon proved me wrong. The editor called the next week, thrilled over how well my writing had gone over. I continued to write every week. Sometimes I discussed the challenges or pleasures of motherhood. Other times I reminisced on what life was like in Myrtle Creek compared to our new place in Wood River, Alabama. Just last week I had received a few letters from young girls back home who wanted my advice on growing up beautiful and strong. I couldn’t have asked for something so wonderful. I had once told my mother that I would have things to write about geared toward young women who wanted to know about my beauty pageant days, and that lie had now come true.
“Anything good?” Snake stepped over next to me so he could see.
There were several envelopes from the newspaper. The letters were always addressed to the paper and then forwarded to me, since I wasn’t interested in giving out my personal address to anyone. “Looks like it! With a little luck, I’ll have material to write for weeks. My readers are so inspiring.” I tore open the first envelope and unfolded the letters inside. “The paper has talked about setting up a special email address for me, since everyone wants to communicate electronically. I don’t really mind the idea, but I like getting actual handwritten letters.”
Snake leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m so proud of you, Bambi.”
I flushed. “Why do you say that? I’m just writing a little column for a tiny paper. It’s not like I’m writing for the New York Times or anything.”
“You know that’s not what matters. You’re doing something you love, and you’re pursuing your degree on the side. Not to mention you’re raising a beautiful little girl. Most of all, though, I’m glad you’re doing something that makes you happy. I wish you could see the way your face lights up when you talk about writing.”
“I do love it.” I pretended to be reading the letter in my hand but I was too distracted. I had worried at first that my little job—which paid but didn’t pay much—wouldn’t be enough for Snake. We had a house to remodel and a child to raise, and I didn’t want to feel like a burden. But he hadn’t complained once, instead putting the entire weight of earning money for the household on himself. My paychecks mostly went into savings or towards extra things I wanted for Ariel. My life was so easy and happy these days.
“I know you do. And one of these days, you’ll have a huge book contract and Ariel and I will have to go on tour with you while you sign books and negotiate movie deals.”
I shook my head and glanced up at him. “You’re being ridiculous again.”
“Am I?” He gave me an innocent look. “I thought I was just telling the truth.”
Returning my attention to the letters, I pulled off the top one and put it on the bottom of the stack. As soon as I saw the next letter, I froze. I recognized the handwriting immediately, and my eyes paused on the greeting. I wasn’t sure I could go on.
Snake noticed my distress immediately. “What’s the matter?”
But I had already started to absorb the words, and I couldn’t stop. I held out one finger to let him know he had to wait a moment while I read. My eyes flew over the words quickly, nearly skimming the document before I slowed down and read it all over again. I knew who this letter was from, but I hadn’t expected it to say what it did. When I was done, I handed it over.
He moved Ariel so that he was holding her with one arm. I reached out for her, but he refused me. He wanted the baby for himself. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to focus on how sweet that was. I handed him the letter with a shaking hand and turned away, biting my thumb between my front teeth.
“Dear Bambi—”
“No, don’t read it out loud. Please.” I already knew what it said, and I didn’t want his voice to overlap the words inside my head. Besides, I needed a moment to think and to try to absorb this. Of all the letters I had received during my short time as a columnist, none of them had ever been like this.
Dear Bambi,
I had seen your name in the paper plenty of times. Every time you won a pageant or made the honor roll, the Myrtle Creek Messenger instantly printed your name. I was shocked when I saw it there as a writer.
It took me a long time to make the decision to write to you. I know that we didn’t part on the best of terms. At first, I thought you would cool off and come back to me like you did before. It’s been long enough that I imagine you won’t. And if that little child of yours is anything like you were as a baby, then I’m sure you feel you have all the family you need right there with you.
What I’m doing a terrible job of saying is that I’m sorry. I wanted the best for you, and as a single mother I felt it was my duty to do everything I could to make sure you never knew just how miserable I was or how much I worried about you. That translated into me pushing you toward the beauty pageant, in the hopes that you could become something better than either your father or I had ever been. My past was ugly and dark, and I wanted something different for you.
I can see now that all I succeeded in doing was making you miserable. I never considered your desires or feelings. I’m sorry for that, but I don’t know that I could have changed it. Even if you were to come running back home right now, I’m not sure that I would behave any differently. Old habits die very hard. I’m glad that you were finally able to point it out to me in a way that made me understand, but I wish it hadn’t torn us apart like it did.
> I can see from your articles that Snake is still with you. I pretended plenty of surprise at first, but really, I knew it could only be that way. He went to great lengths for you, and it sounds as though he’s still doing that. He’s also doing a much better job at it than I ever had. Please tell him thank you for me, and that I’m sorry for getting him arrested. Now that he has a child of his own, perhaps he will understand.
It shames me to know that the newspaper knows where you live but that I don’t. I had considered hiring a private investigator to find you. Not to try to convince you to come back or to do any of the other things I had tried to get you to do, but simply so that I knew. Instead, I decided this was the better route. It’s not as thrilling, I’m sure, as the letters from your devoted readers.
And they really are devoted, Bambi. You were always popular in Myrtle Creek, but now more so than ever. Papers are selling so fast they can hardly keep up, and they had a news article about the stunning rise in their online subscriptions. It’s all because of you; I know it is. Don’t be surprised if they ask you to come speak at a local event sometime soon. The Peach Festival is coming up in a few months, and I’m sure they’d be thrilled to have you.