by Cheree Alsop
Mom and Aunt Lauren arrived at the house shortly after sunrise. Mr. West opened the door in numb surprise. “We brought you some food,” Aunt Lauren said without asking him how he was doing. I knew Mr. West wouldn’t have appreciated it, and I was grateful for the sisters’ foresight in leaving him with his thoughts.
Mom carried the basket into the kitchen, giving us a kind smile when she passed. Aunt Lauren spoke quietly to Masey about the food while Mom came back in with us. She pressed something into Madelyn’s hands. The familiar smell of pumpkin and chocolate wafted through the air.
“Thank you, Mrs. Brady,” Madelyn said as Mom took a seat in the armchair.
“It’s pumpkin bread,” Mom explained. She and I exchanged sad smiles. “It’s helped our family through a few rough times.”
“I appreciate it,” Madelyn replied with an attempt at a smile.
Aunt Lauren appeared at the doorway. “We planned to bring dinner, but your aunt says she needs something to do to keep her mind off things. We got her to agree to let us bring breakfast tomorrow in case she’s not feeling up to cooking.”
“Thank you,” Madelyn and I both replied.
“We’re so sorry about your mother,” my mom said, rising to give Madelyn a hug. She then hugged me, too. “If there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know.” She turned to go, then gave me a warm look. “Stay as long as you need, Kelson. Rick already talked to Jagger about you not coming in for work.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I told her, touched.
When they left, the house felt empty and quiet. Mr. West disappeared back upstairs, and the soft sounds of Masey working in the kitchen failed to chase away the melancholy of the living room. I wanted to get Madelyn out, but she said she was happiest where her mother had been.
“How did the pumpkin bread help you?” Madelyn asked numbly after a while. She took another bite, her second since Mom had given her the bread.
I pulled her close. “When my dad left us without a word, Mom started baking pumpkin bread every night when she got home from work so we could have it with our breakfast in the morning. She said it was to remind us that life always had a little something special to offer as long as we didn’t give up.”
Madelyn studied the dark orange-and-chocolate-chip-spotted bread in her hand. “Did she make it after Zoey died?”
I shook my head. Nothing more needed to be said.
I sat with Madelyn through the day. We ate the food Aunt Lauren and Mom had brought over, but I don’t think any of us tasted it. That night, Madelyn told me I should go home.
“You need someone with you,” I said, protesting.
She shook her head, her eyes sad. “I appreciate it, Kelson, but your family misses you and I know you have things to do. You’ll sleep better in your own bed.”
I thought of the cot in the Ashbys’ living room compared to holding Madelyn on the couch. There was no debate about which I preferred. “I want to be here for you,” I said gently.
She shook her head with a weary sigh. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll go to sleep now and I’ll be fine until morning. Please take a break.” She put a hand on my cheek, her fingers brushing the scruff on my jaw. She gave me a small, warm smile. “You need to rest too. You’ve been amazing.”
I nodded numbly and told Masey good-bye before I walked out into the darkness. It felt right that the sun was down. To me, it felt like the sun had never risen again after Madelyn told me of her mother’s death. I could barely think. I started the four-wheeler and drove down the road. I passed the Ashbys’ property without thinking about it and continued to the junkyard. I stopped next to the lean-to and climbed off, feeling as though I had aged a decade since I had last been there.
Mick came out of the shack barking as though a million cats had invaded his property. Jagger followed closely behind. He flipped on the floodlights that hung above the porch, then squinted at the sudden brightness.
“Why ya here so late?”
I barely looked at him. “Maddy’s mom died. I don’t know what to do.” I stared hard at the ground. “Nothing could help me when I lost Zoey.”
Jagger was silent for a moment, then he said, “Take ‘er for a ride.”
I blew out a breath in frustration. “She’s not going to care about some motorcycle ride after her mom just passed away.”
Jagger used his crowbar cane to walk down the one step from his shack. He tottered my way and gave me the most serious look I had ever seen from him. “I seen the way ya look after a ride. Ets healin’. Ets what she’s needin’.”
The logic of his words rang true. I rode because it chased away all the troubles in my world. For those moments I was on the motorcycle, I could forget everything but the wind, the road beneath my tires, and the expanse of sky that promised no limits in front or behind me. I could be no one, just feel, and it was enough.
“Do we have another helmet?”
Jagger cracked a smile. “I got jus’ the one.” He moved back inside and came out a minute later with a helmet that was very familiar.
I accepted the flat black helmet, feeling as though I held something almost sacred. Grooves ran along two sides where it had protected me from bullets when I jumped through the window at the fair. I traced a finger along one, remembering the crash of glass, the sound of a dozen bullets, the feeling of ribs breaking under their impact. When I crashed, I landed on my back and head. I felt the scratches that cut through the paint along the back. The helmet had saved my life more than once.
“Ya prob’ly should ‘ave her wear yours. I ain’t sure this ‘un’ll save anyone again.”
I gave a small smile. “Her life’s worth saving a lot more than mine.”
He grinned and patted my shoulder. “Now yer talkin’.”
I strapped the new helmet to the back of the motorcycle seat and put the old one on. I slid the visor up. “Thanks, Jagger.”
He saluted me and turned back to the shack. “What’re friends for?” he called over his shoulder, followed by, “Mick, git in ta house.”
I drove from the junkyard straight to Madelyn’s. It was well after midnight, but I doubted she slept. The light in her window gave me the answer I needed. I parked the motorcycle by the edge of their property and crossed to the tree below her window. I climbed the branches as I had so many times before, the rough bark familiar under my fingertips.
Her yellow-and-white curtains hung in front of the window. I tapped on the glass, hoping she would answer. After a moment, I saw movement inside. Madelyn pushed the curtains aside and opened the window, looking even more exhausted than before. Her face was pale and her hair was mussed on one side where she’d been laying on it, but it was obvious I had found her in the middle of crying instead of sleeping. Her eyes widened when she saw me in the Black Rider outfit.
“Kel, what are you—”
I took her hand and pulled her into the night. I guided her gently down the branches even though she had climbed the tree more often than I. She slipped her hand in mine and I led her to the motorcycle. When I handed her the helmet, she gave me a questioning look. I told her quietly, “I can’t make the pain go away, but I can help you forget about it for a while.”
Tears filled her eyes again, but she put the helmet on before they could fall. I climbed onto the bike, then helped her get seated on back. Her arms wrapped tightly around my waist when I started the engine. I pulled slowly from their property and drove south down the road away from town and anything that was familiar.
Madelyn’s grip loosened after a mile. She leaned against me with her head resting on my shoulder. Her body shook and I knew she was crying again. I put a gloved hand over hers. She slipped her fingers through mine and held on to the bare comfort my presence offered.
The sun rose while we rode. Clouds parted above the mountains just as the first rays peeked over the rocky expanse. The sight was breathtaking, bathing the road around us in shades of orange and gold I had never seen before. Madelyn’s arms tightened around me
as sunlight fell on our shoulders. Rose-hued mist drifted from the river that ran a few feet beyond the road, cattails waved in the golden light, and the shadow of birds rose above us, stretching their wings in embrace of a sunrise so beautiful I felt it was just for us.
I slowed so we could savor each subtle change in the sky. The clouds shifted, sending sunbeams down in golden shafts that looked solid enough to climb if we could only reach them. The road curved slowly to the east and we drove into the dawn, the morning light around us bathing in the glistening dew.
“She’s all right,” Madelyn said just loud enough that I could hear her above the sound of the engine.
I squeezed her hand and her fingers twisted through mine. By the time we arrived back at Madelyn’s house, our tears had dried. She gave me a warm smile of thanks and kissed my cheek when I climbed with her back to her room and saw her safely tucked in bed.
BY THE TIME I traded the motorcycle for the four-wheeler, the sun was already hanging above the horizon. I fell into the cot and slept half an hour before Cole tipped my bed over to tell me it was time to milk the cows. I stumbled after the boys into the corral that had been turned into a makeshift milk yard until the barn was rebuilt.
Cole and Jaren were surprisingly quiet. Usually they roughhoused in the mornings, but today they milked without quarreling. The steady shush-shush of filling buckets was the only sound that broke the morning hush. I wondered why until Uncle Rick appeared.
“I heard about Mrs. West,” he said. He gave my shoulder an apologetic squeeze. “How’s Madelyn?”
“Not good,” I replied. I leaned my forehead against Barbecue’s side. The black cow swatted at my face with her tail.
“Long night?” he asked sympathetically.
I nodded. “I just tried to be there for her. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Sometimes that’s all you can do.” The knowing look on his face made me uncomfortable. For the first time, I considered that might have been how they felt when I moved in.
The only thing I wanted to do was go to her and make sure she was all right. I finally gave in after breakfast.
“I’m going to the junkyard,” I told Mom and the Ashbys. I could tell by the looks they exchanged that they knew I would be detouring to see Madelyn.
Aunt Lauren surprised me by following me out with a large basket. Mom joined us by the four-wheeler. “I know Masey didn’t want more food, but if she goes home, we want to make sure they have plenty so they don’t worry about having to cook,” Aunt Lauren explained.
I met Mom’s warm gaze. “There’s more pumpkin bread in there,” she said.
“Thank you,” I told her, giving her a tight hug. “I told her what it means.”
“I’m glad,” she said, giving me a kiss on the forehead.
I strapped the basket to the front of the four-wheeler. The scents that wafted from it made my mouth water. “Thank you,” I told them both. I hesitated, then met Mom’s gaze again. “I don’t know when I’ll be home. I’ll call you if it gets late.”
A grateful smile spread across her face, reminding me that I needed to act like a son more often. “Take care of yourself,” she said.
I drove off the property and smiled when Jake fell in beside me. The dog had been plenty put out when I returned last night. At least I could make him happy by letting him tag along.
I carried the basket to the front porch and knocked quietly.
The door opened a minute later. “What do you want?” Mr. West demanded.
Apparently our little talk hadn’t made him like me any better. I swallowed and held up the basket. “Aunt Lauren and my mother send more food so you don’t have to worry about cooking.”
“I don’t cook,” Mr. West said as though the very thought offended him.
I tried to find the right words. “I—I didn’t meant to imply that you cooked, Mr. West. I—I just wanted to, well, if Masey leaves and you don’t have to—”
Madelyn’s aunt saved me the trouble of figuring out just what I wanted to do by opening the door further and giving me a warm smile made all the more tender by her red nose and faint trails of mascara that had survived her scrubbing. “Hello, Kelson. Please come in.”
“He doesn’t need to come in,” Mr. West pointed out. “He brought a basket and now you have it.” He took it from my hand and gave it to her. “Done. Now he can leave.”
“Give him a break, Joe,” Masey chided gently.
Mr. West threw me one more dark look, then stalked back inside the house. I followed Masey in, wondering if it would have been smarter to obey Mr. West’s wishes. If possible, he appeared to dislike me even more since he broke down. I waited at the edge of the living room in uncomfortable silence.
The fact that the television was off and no one occupied the living room pounded painfully against me. Mrs. West’s absence made the room unbearable. I couldn’t blame them for avoiding it.
Madelyn appeared at the top of the stairs. A shadow of a smile touched her lips as she made her way down. A memory tugged at the back of my mind. I saw Madelyn in the dark purple dress she had worn to the dance, her long brown hair collected in a diamond clip on her head that vied with the brightness of her eyes. Now, she looked worn and beat down, a whisper of the girl in my memory. The thought made my heart ache.
I crossed to her side just as she reached the bottom. She put her arms around my shoulders and held me quietly. No sobs racked her this time. I knew she had probably cried herself to the point of numbness. I could remember the feeling; it sent a shudder up my spine.
“It’s going to be all right,” I whispered.
She shook her head. “How?” she asked in a tone of defeat.
I didn’t know what to say. I searched my mind for anything that had helped me, any little fragment of hope. I found one and gave her a small smile. “Remember the Towhee, the little bird that helped me survive my heartache when Zoey died?” She nodded with a flicker of a smile; I knew she thought about the time we were comparing each other to birds. She had been my Towhee. “It’s time for me to be there for you.”
“You’re going to be my Towhee?” she asked softly. A slight smile touched her gaze.
I nodded and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll tap on your window until you are ready to see the sun. I won’t give up on you.”
Tears showed in her eyes. “Promise?” she asked.
“I promise.”
She fell into my arms and held me tight.
“Maddy, I need your help with the obituary,” Mr. West called from the other room.
“Maddy?” I asked in surprise.
She gave a true smile. “Mom loved it when you called me that, so Dad hasn’t stopped using it.” She blinked before her tears could fall. “It makes me happy.”
I smiled back. As much as he hated me, Mr. West would do what he could to help Madelyn through this, even if it meant calling her by the nickname I used.
Mr. West made an annoyed grunting sound. Madelyn looked over her shoulder. “I should spend some time with him,” she said softly. “He needs me.”
I nodded in understanding. “Call me if you want to get away.”
“I will.”
I kissed her again, and watched her walk slowly to the kitchen. She paused at the doorway to give a little wave, then disappeared.
I DROVE FROM MADELYN’S house straight to the junkyard. Magnum showed up about an hour later. Jagger told him what happened while I threw myself into stacking car parts for our hideout. I wanted to be with Madelyn and couldn’t think of anything but the pain she was going through. I kept checking my cell phone, hoping she would call. The frustration I felt at being away from her ate at me. I put it into my work, chucking bumpers, pulling out steering columns, and using hoods to form a secure wall around the door.
I eventually gave up around noon and pulled the guns from the bomb shelter. Both of them watched with concern on their faces as I stacked cans along the fence.
I was surprised to find a
sense of release as I shot at the cans. The methodical rhythm of loading, aiming, and the sharp ricochet of sound around the junkyard lulled me into a thoughtless cadence. I had killed more cans than I could count by the time Magnum set a hand on my arm. “That’s probably about good,” he said. “You’ve gone through more bullets than there are people in Sparrow.”
I followed his gaze to the shells on the ground. I hadn’t realized I had shot so many. The cans on the ground showed surprisingly accurate bullet holes.
I unloaded the clip back into the box and handed Jagger the Colt. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “No better use fo’ a gun.”
“Than to shoot it?” Magnum asked.
Jagger rolled his eyes. “Ta blow off steam, ya dolt.”
“Let’s go for a ride,” Magnum suggested, ignoring Jagger.
We took the bikes, but I couldn’t ignore the missing sensation of a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and a helmet leaning against my shoulder. My thoughts lingered on Madelyn as we toured the gas stations along the highway. It was probably better that we didn’t find the robbers. I wasn’t sure how I would handle them with all the pent-up frustration I was feeling.
I couldn’t stand the silence. We stopped several times so I could call her, but she didn’t answer. I knew better than to push my presence on her when she and her dad needed the time together. I arrived at the Ashbys’ later that night and found Mom waiting up for me. She gave a sympathetic smile. “How was your day?”
I sat in a chair at the kitchen table and rested my head on my arms. “Infuriatingly uneventful.”
“You wished something would happen so you could take your mind off what Madelyn’s going through?” Mom asked.
I nodded without looking up.
She patted my back. “I worry about you every time you ride out. I know how much danger you put yourself in.”
I knew if she truly realized the danger I faced, she would probably make us move back to California. I gave a noncommittal grunt.
She set something on the table in front of me. I glanced up to find one of Aunt Lauren’s apple plates holding two slices of fresh bread spread with strawberry preserves. The smell made my stomach growl and I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.