Ben. Ben was going to live. He was going to live.
The bike moved again—as gently as it had before. The motorcyclists before them were peeling away from the pack one at a time—almost as if the moves had been choreographed.
“I’m going to pull out now,” Bull said. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
In an instant, all the elation, revelry, and joy disappeared. What on Earth had she been thinking? Was she out of her stupid mind? Trust him?
The road beneath her rolled by and her heart stopped every time she saw one of the white lines speed past her. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. How did something so asinine happen? She had been caught up in the moment, but had she gone completely insane? Or perhaps brain dead?
Her whole body would be dead in a matter of moments. She couldn’t possibly survive such an experience.
It was then that she began to repeat over and over again in her head. I don’t want to die. The words whizzed through her mind as fast as the asphalt beneath her feet. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.
It had been a couple of minutes, and she hadn’t been splattered all over Main Street yet. She realized that she was no longer holding onto the sides of Bull’s waist. Her hands had found themselves locked in a death grip at the front of his leather vest. If the motorcycle came flying out from beneath them, they’d go down together. Mr. Parks at the funeral home probably wouldn’t be able to pry them apart, and they’d most likely have to be buried in the same casket all mangled together. Darrell and Shirley Church would probably have to be carried out of the funeral home on matching stretchers.
“You okay?” Bull yelled over his shoulder.
Her head and her mouth would not work properly. She said, “I’m going to…”
“Good. Yes, you are going to be okay,” he said.
What she had tried to say was “I’m going to die,” but that last word wouldn’t come out.
“We’re about to head toward Charleston,” Bull said. “Use the footrests and push against me when I slow down.”
Oh, my goodness. Not Ashley River Road. It was the deadliest road in all of the tri-county area. Aggressive old oaks had been murdering folks along the highway for years. And people in cars at that. She didn’t have a chance on the back of that motorcycle.
Bull was sure of himself, though. She’d have to trust that he’d take care of her. At this point, she had no other choice.
As the swarm of cyclists made their way through town, she realized that she was—once and for all—a part of a motorcycle gang.
She found her hands pushing against Bull’s sides as they were coming to a stop sign. It was an automatic move to stop her forward momentum. She had released her death grip in an effort to keep from sliding into his body. He reared back again. “Relax, and lean into the turns,” he said.
She could feel the weight of the heavy machine underneath her legs as the foot pedals vibrated with the power of the engine. Her heart beat thunderously in time with the vibrations. She pressed against the sexy man and allowed the shuddering to move through her body. Every inch of her tingled. With the wind. With the sunlight. With Bull.
In minutes, they were on the highway of death. Bull throttled forward and she pressed in to him even more as the wind whipped her body and hair.
She was glad he had handed her those funny-looking goggles to keep all the air from getting into her eyes. It hit her just then that there was a legitimate purpose for all the odd-looking gear the bikers wore—bandanas to keep the hair from their faces to improve their vision, leather to protect their bodies in case of unexpected spills, chains to keep their wallets from blowing out their pockets on rides. It wasn’t so much of a culture of accessories as it was a necessity. Who would’ve thunk?
She found a place behind Bull that protected her from all the wind. He had always been that for her—a protector.
The bikers entered the green cave made by the old giants on the historic highway. Spanish moss hung like menacing stalactites from the branches. A burst of cool air hit April. In moments a pocket of warm air flowed over her. She wouldn’t have guessed that the temperatures varied so widely in such short spans of space. Bullets of sunlight hit her arms.
More of her senses awakened. Ouch. Something had hit her face. She glanced to the side of the road. It had probably been a falling acorn or a twig or a bug. She hoped not the bug.
They glided through a section of the green cavern that was sprinkled with trees with white flowers. White blurs at their speed. The elegant white buds rained down around them. She became brave enough to look behind her to see already fallen ones lifting into the air again as they passed.
And then the most beautiful, unearthly fragrance hit her. It lingered for a moment and was gone. This was the way it was for bikers all the time. Seeing and feeling nature’s handiwork as they rode.
She hadn’t really realized that before. It had always been her impression while driving that between point A and point B, there was only concrete, asphalt, and white lines. Bull was showing her things she couldn’t have imagined.
He let off on the throttle and turned his head to the side so that she could hear. “I love having you behind me.”
She wrapped her arms around his chest and put the side of her face on his back.
She didn’t want anything to come between them. Ever.
Chapter Sixteen
April got off the back of Bull’s motorcycle at the Charleston Battery. Inhaling the briny air that washed in from the harbor, she stretched, twisting her body to the left and to the right. Everything ached. But she was alive. She looked at her arms. The beastly trees along the scenic highway hadn’t torn them off. She looked at her legs. They hadn’t been mangled and twisted together with the motorcycle…and Bull.
Deep inside, a small sliver of pride rose up in her heart. She had confronted the specter that had been following her around for so many years. And she was alive. Both, thanks to Bull.
Bikes interspersed with cars passed by them as they parked the motorcycle There she was for the world to see—April, the motorcycle mama. All she needed to do now was to buy herself a pair of leather pants. She smiled at the realization of her accomplishment.
“Didn’t I say I’d take care of you?” Bull asked as he took off his helmet.
And he had taken care of her. Just like he said.
She took a sore step forward, her uncooperative body fighting every motion. She threw her arms around his neck, and she planted a thankful kiss on his cheek. Then she pulled back and stared into his eyes.
“I always want to take care of you,” he said.
With her arms still entwined around his neck, she stood on her toes and kissed him deeply on his lips.
“April!” a voice, filled with fear, called out from behind her.
She jerked her head around at the familiar sound. Her mother and father had pulled up beside them in their big Lincoln Town Car.
Her insides seized. Cold shot through her body. Oh. My. God.
“Mom, Dad, what are you doing here?” she asked. She realized her arms were still entwined around Bull. She quickly withdrew them.
Her mother made an almost inaudible squeal and put her hand at her neck. She looked at Bull and then at her. “April?”
Her father gazed at Bull as he spoke. “We wanted to surprise you on your birthday,” her dad said, his voice quivering.
“Miss Velma told us you were here when she answered your cell phone.” Her mom turned to her father. “Pull over, Darrell.”
He did, clumsily, almost knocking over several bikes in the process.
April’s mother ran to her, the panic practically pouring out of the older woman, “Have you gone mad? What were you thinking?”
“We wanted to celebrate that we found a donor for Ben,” she said.
“It’s all on account of April,” Bull added.
Her mom ignored what they said.
“And
what’s that?” her mom asked, reaching toward her face. “Darrell, she’s bleeding! Oh, my goodness!”
April touched her cheek, now aware of a sting beginning to throb. It must have been that falling acorn or whatever from earlier. “Oh, I’m fine. A little Neosporin and I’ll be back to good in no time.”
April watched as her father used his cane as leverage to help himself out of the big Lincoln.
“I can’t believe he put you in danger like this,” her father said. He inched himself toward her, his crooked leg lagging behind the cane.
“Dad, the two of you don’t understand. I didn’t want to frighten you with the details.” April glanced up at Bull.
“What are the details, April?” her mother asked. “How did you even get involved in all this?”
He whispered into her ear. “Looks like you need some time to talk to them.” He took a step back. Toward his motorcycle.
She wanted to go with him. For the entire ride he was only inches from her. Now, he seemed miles away. She reached out and touched his sleeve. “Wait.”
“Darrell?” her mother said, and looked to her father for support.
Instead, April’s dad was bent over, clutching his chest. He dropped the cane, and it rolled into the street.
“Daddy, are you okay?” April asked and ran to him. She placed her hand on his back. Then she remembered his nitroglycerin would help lessen the effects of his palpitations, so she pulled everything out of the glove box until her hands were on the bottle. They were shaking, but she managed to take one of the pills from the container and hand it to him.
“Darrell, put that under your tongue, dear,” April’s mother ordered him.
Bull came to April’s side. “You’d better get him to a hospital.”
She looked into his eyes. They had assumed the color of the Charleston Harbor skies. Through the wash of color, she saw that he was wise, protective, caring, and right.
She and her mother each took an arm and led her father to the car and put him in the backseat.
April got into the driver’s side and looked into the rearview mirror as she pulled away. Bull was standing there.
What a mess this all was.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw her father’s face—white as the caps on the waves crashing against the Battery wall—his hand splayed across his chest.
“Drive, April. Drive,” her mother said.
So April pushed down on the accelerator.
…
Bull stood in the middle of the street at the Charleston Battery as the woman he loved pulled away. This was insurmountable for her parents. He knew it. He had seen it in their eyes. And the look was mirrored in April’s.
He kind of felt sorry for the fearful family. He had harbored that unspoken, undreamed of hope that something could happen to change the course of the way things were.
He looked out over the harbor. Seagulls dipped into the water as if they were taking turns playing a game. The sun sparkled like tiny mirrors on the small waves that darted every which way. Bull knew that the pain inside would never be healed if he didn’t win that woman’s heart. He had to win her heart. And after all, he had gotten her to ride on the back of his motorcycle.
In the end, though, his strategy had failed. Her parents were wild cards he hadn’t accounted for in his plan. In fact, he realized that if he were to have a chance with April, she’d have to come up with a plan this time. For them. He’d meet her halfway, of course, but he couldn’t do this alone.
…
Bull read April’s text. Her dad had not had a heart attack, and he’d be released in two days, but she needed some time to sort things out with her parents. He already knew that.
He had no other choice than to give her the time, but he thought about her every moment of every day. He needed time, too. Time to figure out how to help her over this last hurdle. And if she couldn’t make it, he needed time to try to get over her. Even though that didn’t seem possible now.
He wanted to run his fingers down her neck along her strand of pearls. He needed to breathe in her fragrance and kiss her lips again. And he wanted to personally protect her every day of his life if he could have the chance.
He wanted to feel her lightness on the back of his heavy bike, holding on to him like he was her guardian.
There had to be a way to show her that they had to be together. To help her with her parents. He just couldn’t figure out how. With her father’s heart condition in the mix. He saw the love and devotion she had for him in her eyes on the Battery the day of the rally.
He bent over Slug’s motorcycle and dropped his wrench. For the fourth time in thirty minutes. Distraction had gotten the better of him lately. He knew he wasn’t himself without April.
It was late and he was the last person to leave again that Thursday evening. After replacing the broken kickstand on Slug’s bike, he washed his hands. Obviously, Slug was not about to muster the energy to do it himself, so Bull had him bring it by the shop. Now, everything was back to the way it had been before—before the bike had fallen and the mirror on it had broken—before April.
He turned out the lights and lifted the bay door.
Wonder how long he needed to wait. And what would he say to April to fix things? He couldn’t ask her to choose him over her father. He wouldn’t.
He cranked the engine and revved it as distractedly as he had for the last several weeks and almost forgot to close the bay. He killed the motor and closed the rolling door.
Finally, it was time to go home. Alone.
He turned over the motor again and pulled to the edge of Hickory Street. April had played her accordion as sweetly as an angel.
A white construction van had its blinker on to turn.
He hadn’t ever seen anyone as excited as April when she got the news about Ben’s donor. He pulled out onto the road.
The crash thundered in his ears. His head hit something.
Everything went black.
…
April sat in Oscar’s Restaurant across the table from Hogan and Jenna.
The shrimp and grits she had ordered sat palely on her plate. She should eat them. Piece by piece, she was again embracing the blandness that had kept her life safe for twenty-seven years.
But there was a hole in her. Six feet tall and empty. She could still see Bull standing in the middle of the street as she pulled away from him. She had spent two days trying to talk sense into her parents in the hospital. She got nowhere.
She had faced down her fears—on the back of a Harley, no less. But her parents wouldn’t budge.
Though she was a grown woman, the last thing she wanted to do was to lose one of her parents—or both of them.
If she could convince her parents that she had everything under control, she could prove to Bull that she was capable of working on things to make a life with him work. Jenna whispered in Hogan’s ear. He nodded about whatever she had asked him.
“Look.” She held her hand across the table. “He gave it to me Sunday afternoon.”
“It’s beautiful,” April said. It was. The soft light from the candle on their table made the huge diamond glow as if on fire.
“I know it was fast.” Jenna looked into Hogan’s eyes. “But when the heart knows, it knows.” She gazed at the rock some more. “He didn’t bother getting the pee-teet size, either.”
April smiled. “I’m so happy for you.” She stood and hugged her best friend.
“You’ll be my maid of honor, of course,” Jenna said, while admiring the ring on her own finger. She put down her hand. “And, you’re playing the wedding music, too.”
“On my accordion? Your mother will have a fit,” April said and took her seat again.
“That doesn’t matter now,” Jenna said.
April lifted a brow. “Really?”
“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have given Hog a second glance,” Jenna said, and looked at her fiancé with adoration. “You opened my eyes. Taught me to tak
e chances.”
“It’s getting a bit sentimental and girlie in here. I’m going to see if I can find that waitress of ours and get some more sweet tea,” Hogan said and walked away.
Jenna looked in the direction Hogan had gone. “What’s going on with you and Bull?”
“I asked him for some time to deal with my dad.” She shook her head. “I don’t think they’ll ever get over what happened years ago. I can’t just give up on them, though.”
Her cell phone rang. It was Mr. Houseman. He cleared his throat. “Bull’s—” His voice broke. “Bull’s been in an accident,” he said. “He’s at the Medical University.” He paused. “You need to get here. Fast. It doesn’t look good.”
She stood, knocking over her chair, and felt the blood drain from her face. “Is he going to be okay?”
She could only hear faint elevator music bleeding through on their connection.
“Well, is he?”
“Don’t know. Brain injury,” Mr. Houseman said.
She hit the end button on her phone and reached under the table for her purse. “I’ve got to go.” She took out her wallet, her compact, her lipstick, and tossed them on the table.
“What’s wrong?” Jenna asked.
Tears soaked April’s eyes. “I’ve got to go, and I can’t find my keys.”
“Here they are on the table, sweetie.” Jenna stood. “What’s going on?”
April fanned her face. “It’s Bull. He’s been in a motorcycle accident. Mr. Houseman said it doesn’t look good.”
“We’ll take care of the bill, honey.” Jenna hugged her and whispered in her ear. “Go to him.”
April drove as the words kept hammering in her head. Go to him. Go to him. Go to him. Him. That was what she wanted—Bull.
What about her father, though?
Did she really still need to protect him? He had survived his episode on the Battery just fine. Maybe—in a way—she’d been protecting her parents from getting over the old accident.
All her fears were measured side by side in her head. Her parents needed to deal with their fears the way she had. Her former dread of the bikers’ world was nothing in the face of her fear that Bull might not live. It was all crystal clear to her now.
Bikers and Pearls Page 20