Nolan: Return to Signal Bend

by Susan Fanetti

  She called Geoff, told him when she’d be back, and asked if she still had a job. Yes, she still had a job. He’d practically thrown a party on the phone.

  Then she called Nolan.

  Early on, he’d told her that he couldn’t feel things much. Iris had come to understand that the very opposite was true. Nolan felt everything, and he felt it deeply. It cut into him and left ache and scars. At some point, maybe after Analisa’s death, he had learned to turn off his emotions, but now, with what was happening between them, his ability to feel was back in full operation. What he was going through was his heart adjusting to all those feelings he’d strangled to silence for the past few years.

  She planned to tell him that she loved him, that she wanted everything he wanted, and that she was coming home. She knew that they couldn’t sort out the stress between them while they were still off-center. She needed to be with him before he would be calm enough to see that what was happening wasn’t him going crazy, or being addicted to her, or anything like that. What was happening was that he was coming back to life.

  She had felt exhilarated when she’d started the call, but he hadn’t answered. He hadn’t returned the call. Then she’d texted, but that had gone ignored as well.

  Deciding that he needed some time, too, and embroiled in the drama as she fought to get free of Little Rock without leaving her mother without help, she didn’t get too worried. Nolan was moody, and they’d ended the last call badly. He’d get over himself and call back.

  After three days, she was starting to worry and had decided she’d call her father if Nolan didn’t answer this time.

  But that call was answered on the second ring. “Hello? Iris?” A female voice answered.

  Iris was surprised, and curious, but she didn’t jump to any conclusions. “Yeah. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Cory, honey.”

  Nolan’s mom was answering his phone. Now she jumped. “Is he okay? Is he hurt? Did something happen?”

  “I think he’s okay. He…he left. A couple of days ago.”

  Iris’s head and chest suddenly felt funny. “Left? Left where? Left his phone?”

  “I think you should talk to your dad, honey.” Iris could hear that Cory was crying—or trying hard not to. Nolan was not okay.

  “Cory…”

  Cory broke down. Through her tears, she said, “He left his kutte behind. I don’t know, Iris. The club knows, but they won’t tell me. I don’t know what to think.”

  Without his kutte? Why would he go anywhere without his kutte? Something was very wrong.

  If the Horde wouldn’t tell Nolan’s mom what was going on, her father wouldn’t tell Iris much more. Especially not on the phone. “I’m coming home.”

  She would leave that very day. She would call the hospital’s home nursing service and bring in somebody to take care of her mom until Ray or Rose or somebody showed up, and they would all just have to fucking deal with their reality.

  She had a life, and she needed to get back to it before it fell apart.

  ~oOo~

  Early the next evening, Iris pulled down the gravel drive of her father’s house. The vista before her was such a dramatic contrast to the tumult in her head that she blinked, involuntarily, as if her body had decided that her eyeballs needed a good wash.

  The sunshine had the warm depth of approaching sunset. At the end of the driveway, in front of the garage, her father had the hood of his pickup lifted, and he was tinkering with the engine. On each front fender leaned a boy: her brother, Joey, on one, wearing jeans and a black beater, their father’s Mini-Me; on the other, her nephew Henry, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, striped with black grime. They all looked her way as she pulled up next to the truck.

  Over in the yard, Shannon was in her garden, pulling ripe vegetables and dropping them in a steel bucket. Following along behind her was two-year-old John. Every now and then, Shannon would turn and hand him something for the little plastic bucket he carried.

  Millie, Megan, and Caroline were playing on the tree swings.

  It was a perfect summer evening. As if one of their own wasn’t in trouble. Iris was so confused.

  Then she comprehended that all of Badger and Adrienne’s kids were here, but they themselves were not. Adrienne was very, very pregnant. The kind of pregnant that didn’t send the kids to Mimi and Gramps’ house for a sexy grownup night. Was the baby coming?

  When she got out of the truck, her father had made his way from under his hood to stand at her door.

  His grin was wide and happy as he opened his arms. “Hey, baby flower. I missed you.”

  Still confused, Iris couldn’t resist the comfort of her father’s mammoth embrace, and she relaxed on his chest. “Hi, Daddy. I missed you, too.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Your mom okay?”

  Whenever he asked that question, Iris’s first thought was always to say NO! Ray is a controlling, abusive psycho! Do something! And she knew for an absolute certainty that he would. Her parents didn’t love each other anymore, but her father still counted her mother as family, and he would always take care of his family.

  But this time, she didn’t have to fight back that impulse. Her mother wanted the life she had, bruises and all. And she did not count her ex-husband as family.

  “She’s doing better. I took her to the doctor before I left this morning, and she’ll be into a soft cast in a couple weeks. Then no more wheelchair.”

  “I know she’ll be glad about that.” He let her go and went around to the passenger side to get her suitcase. He picked up Toby and handed him to her with a smile.

  “Yeah…Daddy, what’s going on with Nolan?”

  His smile faded away, and he looked to Henry and Joey, who had waved but were now old enough to be too cool for hugs and excitement that she was home.

  “We’ll talk about that later.”

  “No. I need to know what’s going on now. Is he okay?”

  Her dad turned to his truck. “Hey, boys. Go wash up. We’ll finish this after supper.”

  Henry nodded and darted off, but Joey frowned. “You want me to put the tools away first, Dad?”

  “Nah—we’ll be back out later. You go on. Hey—take your sister’s suitcase inside for her.”

  Joey came up and took the overnight bag from their dad. “Not Toby, though,” he said, making a face like he would lose five years of age if he even touched the thing.

  Iris laughed. “I got him, dorkbutt. Don’t worry.”

  Her little brother stuck out his tongue and trotted to the house.

  “C’mon. Let’s go talk in my castle.” Her dad took her hand and led her around to the side of the garage.

  As they walked, Iris watched Shannon and the kids off at the edge of the yard. Shannon, still in the garden, in her bright yellow rubber boots, waved and blew her a kiss. Little John waved, too. Iris waved back.

  “Is Adrienne okay?”

  Her dad stopped in his tracks. “Fuck. Yeah—sorry. She had the baby this morning. Austin Ryan Ness. Cute little butterball. Another redhead. Five kids, five carrot tops. That’s some kinda strong gene.

  “She had the baby and nobody called me?”

  Actually blushing, her dad shrugged. “Sorry, flower. It happened fast. They weren’t even at the hospital an hour before he came. And we were corralling the kids, and you were gonna be home tonight anyway, and—sorry. Shit just got away.”

  Not being told in a timely manner that she had another nephew was the least of her concerns at the moment. As her father ushered her into his mancave, she turned on him and asked, “Why is everybody being so normal? Nolan is missing!”

  “No, he’s not. Sit, baby. I’ll say what I can.”

  She set Toby down on the crate her dad used as an end table and sat.

  “You want a beer?”

  She shook her head. With a sigh, her father sat next to her.

  “He’s not missing. We know where he is. As far as we know, he’s okay.”
r />   “Where is he?”

  “He went north. I’m not gonna tell you more than that.”

  “But why? Is it club stuff? It must be club stuff. But Cory said he left his kutte behind.”

  “Yeah, he did. Iris, listen to me. I am going to tell you one thing about the situation, and then you’re gonna listen to what I have to say about Nolan. The thing I’ll tell you is that what he’s doing is turning his back on the club. That’s why he left his kutte behind. He’s going against the table. Do you understand what that means?”

  She knew enough to know that it meant they might vote him out of the club—or worse, depending on what he was doing.

  Being Horde made up most of how Nolan knew himself. Maybe all of how he knew himself. It was his connection to his father, to his family. He credited the Horde with saving his mom—and him. She couldn’t imagine him ever going against the club.

  “Something must be wrong. He would never put his patch at risk.”

  “But he did. He might well be putting a lot more than that at risk. And that’s all I’m going to tell you.”

  “Why aren’t you going after him?”

  He hesitated before he answered. “Nolan made his choice. As a club, we made ours, and unlike Nolan, the rest of us follow the will of the table. If he comes home, then the club will have another choice to make.”

  “If? What d’you mean if? Daddy, please! What’s going on?!”

  Her father didn’t answer that question. Instead, he picked up her hand and closed it in both of his. “I told you early on that I thought Nolan was trouble for you. You remember what I said?”

  She remembered, and, angry at where she knew her father was taking the conversation, she pulled her hand free. “That he has a hot head and a sad heart.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. And he’s restless. I think all that got him into his trouble now. But my understanding it doesn’t make what he’s doing okay. This is the kind of shit I was worried about. There’s dark in him, and it’s getting the better of him.”

  “Daddy, that’s not a reason to stay away. That’s a reason to get close. He needs help. He thinks he’s alone, and proving that to him by turning your back on him isn’t right.”

  “He’s a grown man, Iris. He’s on his own because he made that choice. The rest of us have to do what he’s not doing and protect the people we love.”

  His words and tone were firm, but she could see the conflict in his eyes, and she believed that he would have gone after him. She had to believe that.

  Iris dropped her face into her hands and tried to force her mind to think in sequence. She thought about their last phone call. She’d been practically vibrating from the stress of taking care of her mom, coming off yet another squabble with her, and Nolan had pushed hard for her to give him an end date for her time away. She’d wanted more than anything to just pack up and come home, but he hadn’t been able to see that. He’d only been able to see that she was away and couldn’t—or, to him, wouldn’t—say when she’d be home.

  Her mind had sort of cracked, and she’d needed everybody on the planet to just get up off her back for a minute. She’d said some things that, if she’d been calmer, she would have realized he’d take badly.

  When she looked up, she had to blink tears away so she could see her father clearly.

  “This is my fault. This is because I left. He needed me here, and when he was starting to feel desperate, I yelled at him for putting too much pressure on me. The last time we talked, I made it sound like I was thinking about breaking up.”

  He dad frowned. “Were you?”

  “No! I was just stressed out, and talking to him was making me more stressed, and I didn’t say what I was thinking very well.”

  “Doesn’t matter, baby. It’s not your fault. If he’s putting stress on you, you should be able to tell him to back off.” He sighed. “Anyway, this is a lot bigger than just you. This has been on the fire for ten years or more. Just finally boiled over.”

  Ten years ago—probably closer to eleven now—was when his father was killed. “This is about Havoc?”

  Her father’s eyes showed the surprise he wouldn’t let his face show.

  Which answered her question—and made a slew more, none of them with answers she had any way of getting. So she turned her attention back to what she did know. “Daddy, he’s hurting. He’s kept all these broken parts of his heart together with nothing but willpower for a long time. I think me—us—him loving me, me loving him, I think he doesn’t know how to deal with feeling so much. He’s afraid of losing it. He just needs not to feel alone.”

  “I know. But this is bigger than him.” Her father pulled her snugly into his arms. “I love you, baby flower. You have a huge, good heart. But Nolan chose this path. All we can do is wait and see how it plays out.”

  “Daddy, I love him.”

  He squeezed her even more tightly, tucking her head under his chin. “I know. He should have known it, too.”

  She didn’t like the tense he’d used in that sentence. “You don’t think he’ll come home?”

  “I don’t know, flower. I don’t know. But, Iris, he left. I understand he’s going through some changes, but he knew what he was leaving, and he knew what he was facing. He knew the risks, he knew he put other people at risk, and he made the choice. What happens next falls on his shoulders.”

  She thought it was far too soon to write Nolan off so completely, but she didn’t say it. Her father was angry; calm as he was, she could tell that he was furious, but she wasn’t sure if it was at Nolan or for him—or maybe both. There was danger, for Nolan and for the club. But whatever Nolan had done, if he’d turned away from the Horde, then he’d believed he had no other choice.

  And he would come home. He had to come home. He would come home, and then everything would be okay.

  So she would wait.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Fuck, he was homesick.

  The burner sat heavily in his pocket. Its call history remained empty; every time Nolan had gotten or made a call, he’d cleared it out, in case it fell into the wrong hands. But all he wanted to do now was dial Iris.

  He wouldn’t, though, even if he’d been in any kind of range for service. Not until he could tell her he was coming home. Not until this was done. If he was still alive then, if he was free, then he’d call and see if she still wanted him.

  He figured they’d told her something to keep her from worrying, but he doubted they’d told her enough to make her understand. He didn’t think anybody but he could understand, and sometimes even he was a little muddy on why this was so necessary.

  Nacto had not been kidding when he’d described the off-road terrain as ‘rough.’ Traveling the way he was, keeping his lowest possible profile, Nolan had hiked the last ten miles of road, leaving in a gravel lot the loaner bike Nacto had given him. His Ironhead was still in Bismarck. He hoped.

  He followed the rest of the road on foot and turned into the wilds when that road degenerated from paved to graded gravel to dirt, to ruts, to weeds. Now he was far beyond the reach of human sight, unless there was a satellite in the sky tracking him.

  Not an impossible notion, that. Often he looked up and wondered.

  But Nolan kept to the cover of trees has much as he could, struggling through the deep undergrowth of forest that might well have never seen human feet before. It was slow going—but not so slow as traversing a wide plain of huge rounded boulders had been.

  It was going to take him two full days, maybe more, to clear the twenty-five miles to Vega’s cabin.

  But if he could get there, it was a good bet that there would be no other human besides him and Vega for dozens of miles, and Vega wouldn’t be due to check in again in Winnipeg for another two weeks and change.

  Nolan had a good chance to get this done clean. Because the Horde did have his back.

  Here on the first night, Nolan hunkered into his sleeping bag and stared through the canopy of trees to a sky teeming with
sparkling stars. He slapped at his neck—the mosquitoes were ferocious out here. He rubbed his hand over his pocket, where his useless burner rested alone. He missed Iris. And he missed his little star on its cord.

  Fuck, he was homesick.

  ~oOo~

  Vega’s cabin was tucked into a little glade, almost a narrow alley between two dense sections of forest. Nolan had had to come up much closer than comfort allowed in order to be sure of what he was seeing; the forest was too thick with old growth, and the light on this overcast day too diffuse, for him to be sure the greying logs that made up the walls of the cabin weren’t simply more trees.