by A. J. Downey
Finally, there was my grandson. I was nostalgic, I admit. I’d taught Dray to shoot, to fish, and to ride. While I would stand back and let him do the same for his boy, I wanted to be there just the same.
They were why I held on, even though I had some rather unique thoughts on the matter of suicide.
I stood up, setting Chandra’s copy of Hunter’s Choice aside and pulled off my jacket and cut. I hung it on the back of the door and stripped down, getting ready for bed, pulling on the pair of tartan flannel pajama pants Everett had gifted me for Christmas.
I picked up the book and took it and my readers with me to the bed, switching on the bedside lamp. I went back over to my chair and switched out my reading lamp with a sigh.
I fell asleep sometime around where the main female character, Jessamine, was arguing with the crotchety old bastard, Charlie, about takin’ a seat at the dinner table.
I liked Charlie.
He reminded me of me.
8
Marcie…
I heard him before he was even close to comin' up to my door. I went to the kitchen door and opened it up. My driveway went down the side of my house and spilled into a flat gravel lot outside my kitchen door in what was, technically, my back yard. Kind of hard to miss the sound of a motorcycle as loud as his coming down the drive. It damn near shook the whole house.
“Evenin’!” I called as he shut off his machine. “Does that thing really need to be that loud?” I asked, curious.
He grinned at me and stood, swinging a leg over the saddle and facing me over the back of the sleek bike, all butter-soft leather and shiny chrome. The tank was a glossy black, with the MC’s logo airbrushed on the tank under a shiny seal of topcoat.
“Loud pipes save lives, Sugar.”
“I suppose I didn’t think of that.”
“Citizen like you, there’s a lot to learn,” he said.
I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled, “And just what’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded. “A ‘citizen like me’.”
“Now, now,” he said, coming around his motorcycle, walking up to my little porch. He propped a booted foot on the bottom step and put his thumbs through his belt loops in front. “Don’t mean no harm by sayin’ it. It just is what it is. The world I come from is both simpler than yours and a lot more complicated.”
I tilted my head and arched a brow, searching his face. I saw it there, in his eyes. The invitation in his smile. I couldn’t decide how it made me feel, if it felt open and welcoming, or if it held a more sinister connotation to it…
Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly…
“Apology, even though it sucked, accepted,” I told him, and held my hand out. He laughed and took it, and I descended the three steps like a debutante – not that I’d ever been one. I’d had dreams, but I was far too poor growing up for it to ever happen.
“So, where’re you takin’ me this time?” I asked and he smiled at me.
“Well, that would ruin the surprise. You gonna lock your door?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Never have,” I said.
“This day and age, you have to be crazy.”
“I’m goin’ out with a Sacred Heart in this town when my son-in-law is a Sheriff’s deputy. Pretty sure if you ain’t figured it out by now, I’m way past crazy, sweetheart.”
He laughed and nodded, “Touché, beautiful. Touché.”
He handed me a spare helmet that he’d had hooked around the back of the backrest thingy on his motorcycle, and helped me fasten it right. I got on behind him and he fired up the machine. I jumped at the noise, but I’d jumped the first time, too. I was like that, very sensitive to loud noises. Always had been, no real reason behind it. I couldn’t watch a scary movie for nothin’. I didn’t cover my eyes, I plugged my ears. It could be somethin’ I’d seen a thousand times, but once that music got started and ramped up, I was done for unless I couldn’t hear it.
I couldn’t hear a damn thing over the roar of the wind, but then again, it was nice not to. That wasn’t the point of riding anyway, I didn’t think. Talkin’. Talkin’ was reserved for whenever we got where we were goin’. Right now, it was just a nice sunset ride, easing into the thrum of the bike, the rush of the pavement beneath the tires as it ate up miles of highway and the dull roar of the wind rushing over us, carrying what stress and troubles we may have had burdening us away.
I could get used to this goin’ for a ride. It was nice. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed it. We rode out along the parkway away from town and turned off onto some older country roads until he slowed and turned down the drive of one of the racehorse farms in the area. A woman came out the front door of the cabin-like ranch house and skipped lightly down the steps. As soon as Dragon cut the engine, the noise of a saw coming from one of the tin outbuildings nearby could be heard finishing a cut, the blade winding down as whoever used it switched it off.
“There you are! Was wondering when you were going to get here,” the woman cried.
“Marcie, I’d like you to meet my niece, Bailey.” I smiled and got off the motorcycle and held out my hand. She gripped it firm, but nicely. Her palm was rough with callouses. Despite her well-kept appearance that screamed old money, she wasn’t unfamiliar with what real work was about, and I immediately liked her for it. She smiled, her teeth perfect, straight and white, the way only a pair of braces and regular visits to the dentist could make ‘em, and I smiled back.
Unlike a lot of Appalachia, I was blessed with good genetics, so while my teeth weren’t perfectly straight, they were the ones God gave me and they weren’t rotten. I thought it was a funny thing to be thinking all of this, but at the same time the mind wanders where the mind wanders and thankfully, mine wandered from teeth to What on earth are we doing here?
I tuned into Bailey talking to Dragon. She was saying, “Saw ‘em out at the edge of the north-east pasture the other day. Rush’ll take you out there as soon as – ah, there he is.”
A man was jogging up to us, sawdust in his hair and in drifts across his broad shoulders, which were covered in a straining black tee-shirt with the Sacred Hearts MC logo on the front where a pocket should be. He slowed up to a walk a few strides away, out of breath slightly, and stuck out a hand to Dragon.
“Yo, D. Was wondering when you would make it.”
They pulled each other into a fierce hug and stepped back from each other.
“Marcie, I’d like you to meet my man, Rush.”
I felt a fit of nerves fizzle to life in my gut in a flurry of moth’s wings against the inside of my stomach. Butterflies were cute and romantic; there wasn’t nothin’ cute about what I was feelin’ right now, though. Not as my thoughts raced about, wonderin’ how the woman who murdered this man’s friend was about to be received. I didn’t say nothin’ about it as Rush, brown eyes sparkling under a mop of short, dirty blonde hair, reached out and took my hand. He winked at me, bowed over it gallantly, and smacked a quick kiss across my knuckles.
“Pleasure to meet you, Marcie.”
I giggled, the nerves evaporating, the moths exploding into a riot of butterfly wings anyways.
“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” I asked. Bailey was lookin’ at Rush with fondness and a touch of adoration and I had to smile. It was the same way my daughter and her husband, Rich, looked at each other, and those two had a deep love and respect for one another to the point I knew I didn’t have to worry if it would last. I knew it would.
“Bailey tell you we’re headed to the north-eastern pasture?” he asked.
“She surely did,” Dragon said.
“Alright, let’s do it,” Rush said with another wink.
“Have fun, you guys; love you, baby. See you when you get back,” Bailey said, and with a wave she headed back toward the house.
“I don’t even know what we’re doing,” I said, with a laugh.
“That’s the whole point, sweetheart. It’s a surprise.”
Rush le
d us over to a beat-up old farm pickup and dropped the back tailgate. He brought down a wood stepstool and set it on the ground and held out a hand.
“Ladies first,” he declared and I took his hand and stepped up on the stool like a stair, and put a foot on the back of the tailgate. With a slight groan of protesting old joints I climbed into the back. Dragon climbed up right behind me and we settled in, our backs against the cab of the truck while Rush hefted the stepstool back against the tailgate after he’d shut it, and used a bungee cord to strap it into the back corner of the truck bed.
He patted the side of the truck twice and raised his eyebrows at us, and went around to the driver’s seat. I laughed and looked over to Dragon and said, “I’m trusting you aren’t about to bury me out the woods somewhere.”
He chuckled and shook his head, “You’re far too entertainin’ to have around, sweetheart. Wouldn’t dream of it. You’ll see what I’m up to soon enough.”
The nerves were back, a mix of butterflies and moths this time, as the truck fired up and we lurched across the uneven ground and turned to go deeper into the horse farm’s property.
He had this half-smile on his face in the dying light, one that said he was sure of himself and that I was in store for something special. We would see. I didn’t exactly get my hopes up much anymore.
Bobby’d sort of broken me of that habit with Christmas and birthday gifts consisting of a new vacuum cleaner or ironing board.
He’d managed to outdo himself a few times, usually with a big gaudy piece of jewelry, but no matter how much I hinted, he never picked up on the fact I’d love a cozy weekend getaway or a nice dinner for two. I wanted his time, not a new necklace or the nifty new gadget to clean the house with. Hell, I didn’t even use the fancy mop he bought me. I always did my kitchen floors on hands and knees, it was the only real way to get it clean.
We turned through a wide pasture gate and bumped and rocked over an uneven field. Just when I was like to think I was gonna go crazy, we stopped and Rush threw open the driver’s side door and hollered out, “Just a sec, lemme get the truck gate for you.”
He jogged around to the back of the truck and unhitched the footstool while Dragon helped me to my feet. I dusted some stray straw off the seat of my britches as Dragon jumped down and both men held hands up to me to make sure I got down okay.
“Why, thank you, gentlemen,” I said, laughing, but the laughter died on my lips when I turned to face the field and the line of trees past it. Sitting just a few feet from us was two low lounge chairs, the outdoor type, handcrafted from some beautiful honey-colored wood, the edges left gnarled and natural, the back and seats planed and sanded smooth.
Between the two chairs, sat a stout matching table. An old camp lantern was on it along with a square cut-glass decanter of some kind of liquor and a pair of matching glasses, just sitting and waiting.
“I’ll be,” I declared. “What is all this?”
“Right, no cell service out here,” Rush said and handed Dragon a little radio. “This has the reach to get me back out here. Just turn it to channel two and call me up when you’re ready.”
“Will do, Rush. Thanks a million.”
“Ain’t no thing, Prez. See you later.”
“Thank you!” I called back to him, coming to my senses a little late. He grinned and gave a wave in the half-light over the bed of the truck. He turned on the headlights, and made a U-turn in the field before chugging back the way we’d come in.
“Thought you could use a drink and to relax,” Dragon said, gesturing to one of the seats. “I know I could use a little peace and quiet.”
“You did all this, for me?”
“Nah, I did it more for me, I just figured I might like to share it with you.” He winked at me and I couldn’t tell if he were joking or dead serious.
I went to the seat on the right and sat down. He reached down to the little shelf under the table and pulled out a throw blanket, laying it over my lap.
I laughed lightly and said, “Why, thank you!”
He chuckled, and pulled the stopper gently from the decanter and poured two glasses of what smelled like vanilla bourbon.
“That smells heavenly,” I groaned.
“It’s not my usual, that’s for sure, but I have to agree. Rush ‘n Bails outdid themselves.”
“What is your usual?” I asked, taking the glass he offered me and closing my eyes, breathing in the rich, warm, and slightly spicy aroma. It held the kind of spice that you’d use in a nice pie or a batch of cookies, warm and fragrant, sweet and lovely. I had to know where they got this bourbon, I needed to use it in my pecan thumbprint cookies come Christmas time.
Dragon set his own glass aside on the armrest of his chair and slung another throw over the back. He shifted the decanter aside and took his lighter from his pocket, lifting the hurricane glass on the lantern to get it going. He kept the flame low for now, the light barely there even as the dark crept out from the woods in front of us.
“We here for the stars?” I asked, curious. Something Bailey had said about ‘them’ being spotted made me want to fish for information.
“No, just thought it might be nice to listen to the cricket song and relax,” he said, but his smile told me he wasn’t trying all that hard to lie to me.
“Well, all right, then.” He had settled in his own seat, tossing the throw over his legs and I held out my glass to his. He clicked his glass to mine and I said, “To a relaxing evenin’ out.”
“Here, here,” he murmured.
The bourbon was silky smooth with a nice sweet edge across my tongue, warming me all the way down as I swallowed. I sighed happily and leaned back.
“Where’d you leave off in your copy of Hunter’s Choice?” he asked.
“Oh, ha, I maybe got a paragraph or three in on Sunday night and I fell asleep. I got a little bit further later in the week…” I set my glass down and slipped my readers out of the pocket I kept them in in my purse. “Turn that up a bit, maybe?”
“Sure.” He turned the little knob on the lantern and gave it more wick. The flame grew until I could see the book I’d taken out of my purse.
“A bit more?” He obliged and I said, “There.” He leaned back in his seat and I checked the chapter heading, saying, “Ah, yeah, I left off not too much further. Chapter sixteen.”
“Oh, that’d be one of Jessamine’s chapters. That’s all you, sweetheart.”
“What, you want me to read it?”
“Well, why not?” he asked. “You got me into this mess.” And with that, he pulled his own battered copy of the book out of his inside pocket. I laughed and he gave me a sly grin and brought out his own pair of reading glasses. “Next book is my choice, though.”
“All right, okay,” I said, smiling, buying myself time to get used to the idea. I took a sip of the bourbon in my glass, savoring it a moment. I decided I liked his proposition and said, “That’s fair enough, I think.” I could barely keep my smile at just a smile. I had to fight it to keep it from becoming a full-blown grin when he had to turn backwards in the book from nearly the ending to get to my same page.
I took a breath and was just about to speak when it happened.
The raucous call of an owl split the spring air and I felt my eyes widen.
Dragon reached for the lamp and doused the light to its barely-there glow, and we stared at one another in the close dark, our ears straining.
It happened again!
Both of us turned our heads and scanned the tree line as the last haunting note drifted on the slight breeze. I lowered my book, slipping the bookmark back into place and stared hard, hoping my eyes would adjust and I caught sight of the magnificent bird as it took wing and glided over the pasture.
I sucked in a sharp breath as it swooped above the ground and then its silhouette, lighter against the night, winged back into the air, wheeling against the starry sky with a mouse or something clutched in its talons. I barely dared to breathe as it took its catch t
o the nearest fencepost to dine.
“Oh, my god,” I whispered and leaned back. Dragon eased the wick back up carefully on the lantern, and the bird, just at the edge of our pool of light, froze. “Don’t scare him!” I hissed, but it was too late. Clutching her kill, she winged back to the trees. “Aw, damnit! I think that was me,” I said, dismayed. “Shoulda just kept my mouth shut.”
Dragon chuckled and said, “They’re out there. Bailey says she’s got a mated pair in these woods, and there are some barn owls in her barn.”
“That is just fabulous!” I said.
We were speaking in low, careful tones and he smiled around the rim of his glass.
Another owl called from the tree line, or maybe it was the same owl. It was hard to tell. I smiled and leaned my head back to listen and murmured, “This here is mighty special. Thank you.”
“Gotta find the magic in the simple things,” he murmured, and I smiled and rolled my head on my neck to look over at him.
“There’s a lot of truth in that statement,” I said.
He chuckled and looked over his readers at me the same as I looked over mine at him.
“Where were we?” he asked.
I laughed and said, “Gonna need a little more light than that.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“Wrong fairy tale, or myth or whatever,” I said.
He laughed lightly and said, “Well, I stand corrected.”
9
Dragon…
We’d gone through most of the book, the evening ambling on, the owls calling, the crickets lazily chirping as we read to each other by the lantern’s light. I glanced up about half way through one of my chapters to read and found Marcie dozing lightly, a faint appreciative smile gracing her lips.
I stopped and looked over her face.
She was an ageless kind of beauty. Not Hollywood glam, but real. Salt-of-the-earth kind of people. Motherhood, and the kind of person she was, had etched laugh lines gently around her eyes and mouth, her skin was smooth and free of makeup. When her eyes opened, they were nearly colorless by the lantern light, but kind, and the whole effect with her country perfect outfit made her the sort of beautiful you married. Not the kind to hit and quit. She took care of herself, and had a respect for herself that declared that if you didn’t take care of her, she’d sure but leave your ass, and it sounded like that was just what she’d done where her ex was concerned.