“I’m not done talking to you, asshole.” Gunny’s laughing bellow interrupted whatever Horse had been about to say, and he shot her a grin instead.
“Talk to you later, little sister?” Horse stood and stretched a hand to her. She accepted the help, climbing to her feet slowly.
“Sure.”
Walking back to the houses with Horse and Gunny carrying the fish and Marian toting the tackle, they held a quiet but active conversation about the local diner. Each of them having a different favorite gave them opportunity to try and convert the others to their preferred meals. Of course Gunny kept circling back to Horse’s choice of tackle, finding it by turns amusing and revolting, and then hilarious again.
They rounded the corner of the house and Marian spied a familiar motorcycle parked near the back door. “Einstein!”
He stood up from where he’d been crouched next to his bike and turned, immediately finding her with his eyes. His wide smile was welcoming.
Marian dropped the tackle and left it lying in the dirt as she ran to him with arms outstretched. “I didn’t think we’d see you for a couple more months.”
Mouth next to her ear, Einstein’s murmured, “Marian,” told her as much as the tight hug. Einstein had been lonely on the road. I’m glad he’s got here to come home to. “Wanted to see my favorite girl.”
She stepped back to let the men greet each other, surprised at the chilly reception from Horse. She’d thought they were good friends. The sad expression Horse turned her way was also surprising, but she didn’t have a chance to ask him about it. The evening was taken up in conversations about Einstein’s travels, Thad’s sports, and the latest achievements of Myrt and Bane’s baby.
It was only later that she remembered Horse had wanted to talk to her. I’ll have to find him and see what’s up. Already in bed, Marian pulled the covers up as she turned to her side, snuggling into the pillow.
Einstein’s here. That meant their morning ritual tomorrow.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face.
Chapter Twelve
Einstein
“Still not sure what you’re aiming at, man.” Einstein tapped the wood of the pool cue against the edge of the table, knocking a few drifts of blue chalk loose from the tip. “Ain’t no way you’re going to make that shot.”
He lifted his lip, giving this stranger the fake and easy smile he’d learned to cultivate. Talk to enough bullshitters, some of it’s bound to rub off eventually.
The bustling bar surrounded them with noise and movement. In one corner, a jukebox belted out decades-old chart-toppers as men and women swayed on the tiny parquet floor, each weaving couple pretending they’d had enough to drink to make hooking up a given.
The click of pool balls brought his attention back to the table, and he offered the same smile when he saw the stripes and solids counted up to the same total, just moved around a bit.
“Aw, dammit,” the skinny cowboy groused, shoulders rounding as he leaned heavily on his stick. “Thought for sure I’d catch at least one of them.”
“Gotta know what you’re after before you let loose with the hit.” He lined up on the cue ball, leaning over to give it a tap. It hit the solid ball near the corner enough of a glancing blow to knock his ball in, then angle off the cushions to roll back to where it began. “See what you want to happen in your mind, then let go.” Striking the cue ball a second time, he split the difference between two solids near the middle of the table, directing each into a corner pocket. “Once you have it in your mind, you can do nearly anything.”
The cowboy grinned good-naturedly as he flipped through his wallet and pulled out a bill, holding it out to Einstein as the eight ball rolled slowly to drop into the side pocket he’d called. “Next time I need schoolin’, I’ll give you a call.”
“Keep your money.” Einstein waved it off, then sidled a step closer. “Instead, what if you tell me everything you know about Marcus Littlelight?”
Proving himself perhaps more astute than Einstein had given him credit for, the cowboy grimaced as he tucked the money away. “Buy me a beer and a shot, and everything I got in my head is yours.”
Three hours later, Einstein lounged on a motel bed, back to the dubiously padded headboard. He’d kicked the comforter to the floor when he’d entered the room and had only removed his cut and boots so far. Flipping his phone from one hand to the other, he eyed the clock on the nightstand. Another hour before Retro’d be home from the game. Jimmy was developing into a savvy and talented tailback, and the junior high team had played their cross-town rivals tonight. The game might have ended a bit ago, but Einstein knew their routine as well as if he were there enjoying it alongside them. The drive home would include an obligatory visit to the pizza place where the team would rehash every play. Tales of their prowess would grow with each rendition, until the next time he talked to Jimmy, he might have well won the whole thing singlehandedly.
So no Retro yet.
That left him with a short list of additional contacts he’d want to spend any time with, even from remote like this.
Monday was a given. The man managed to always be amusing and yet still provide a deep well of compassion. But he and his latest beau might be snuggled up about now, and alone time was sacrosanct to the man.
There was Bane, but he’d be dealing with nearly the same as Retro. Thad had turned into a sports fanatic over the past couple of years, and the last time he’d spoken to Bane, the family had been in-between two different sports events—on the same day. Luke still would rather spend his free evenings at the library or arcade, either of which was more Myrt’s speed, so she’d take her and Bane’s little one with them and leave Bane to Thad’s mercies.
Gunny had turned into a surprising friend, one who could offer insights with composure one moment, then segue off into one of Sharon’s wild-haired ideas the next, laughing the whole time. His kids kept him busy, too, and he’d been making loud noises about another baby since Josh was going into junior high next year. Einstein always tried not to interrupt family time for the Robinson household.
Forcefully steering his mind away from the other person in Baker he liked being around, he glanced at the clock again, mentally calculating the time it would take him to run there from this bohunk Mississippi town.
“Fuck it.” Spending yet another night in a no-tell motel wasn’t the greatest of his options, and if it hadn’t been for the uncertainty of sourcing the most recent rumors, he wouldn’t have checked in at all. “Four hours puts me there at midnight. I know where the key is if it comes to that.”
Swinging off the bed, he stamped into his boots and grabbed a long-sleeved Henley out of his bag. Tugging it over his head, he threaded his way through the fabric, then reached for his cut as soon as he had a hand free. A final glance around the room confirmed nothing left behind, and he slung the bag over his shoulder, fingers gripping the woven nylon handles tightly.
Another five minutes to check the bike over, retrieve his helmet, and strap the bag into place—then he was astraddle of the saddle, feet firmly on the ground as the engine rumbled underneath him. He smiled. Hope I never get tired of that feeling. Even after so many years, just the sound and sense of the bike represented freedom, and most recently, a sense of healing.
Angling his wheels out of the motel parking lot, he settled back for the ride and selected his route from memory.
Time had been kind to him. Time and separation.
It wasn’t that he missed Lauren and Makayla less acutely, because the knowledge and understanding that they were forever gone would still strip him of breath and strength when it hit him unawares. But as he’d traveled the road under the guise of his nomad rocker, he’d found that distance helped—both physical and regarding passing seasons. It had become a certain kind of freeing to be around people who’d never met his girls, never understood what precious gems he’d held in his hands—and so never knew what he’d lost.
Like this run, because even wi
th folks at the end who intellectually knew what had happened, Lauren and Makayla wouldn’t be top of mind for them. Those graceful buffers between what had come before and what he was building with every mile underneath his wheels had become something he’d longed for.
Just blessed that I’ve friends who give me the space I need.
And that was another reminder that he should at least text Retro from his first fuel stop, so the man would know where he headed tonight.
Another five hours had passed before he rolled the bike as quietly as possible into the curving driveway, the relatively new asphalt pavement secure under his wheels when he glided to a stop in front of the big house.
Retro hadn’t been placated with a simple text. Of course not. Which had meant Einstein had found himself seated at booths reserved for paying customers inside an all-night gas station. Their quiet conversation had been refreshing, as they always were, topics ranging from what Einstein had found on this run, to Retro’s family, back to the club and their most recent gathering, then away to how Retro’s oldest was doing in college.
“Nelda’s on fire, man. She banked enough credits throughout high school that she could graduate now with her associate’s, but the program she’s lookin’ at needs her to kill these last couple of classes before swinging into the next level of shit.” Retro’s fond tone held enough exasperation to be amusing. “Fuckin’ glad the girl knows her daddy ain’t made of money, because if it wasn’t for the scholarships and grants she’s gotten, she wouldn’t be considering moving on towards graduate school at all.”
“She’s a good girl.” Einstein chuckled, remembering back to the long-ago time when Retro had moved his family into the clubhouse for a few weeks. “Even when she was askin’ way too many fuckin’ questions about Mudd and Rhonda’s toys she found tucked behind the bar.”
“Oh, God, don’t remind me of those days.” Laughter, warm and rich, flowed through the call. “Now that was an awkward conversation I never expected to have to have with my teenaged daughter.”
“And you wouldn’t change a damn thing. Be honest.”
“You’re right, as always. That’s why I call you Einstein. Smartest man among us, always.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’d like to point out that she’s still a teen, for another while at least.” Grief hit him in an instant, coming out of nowhere to sideswipe his chest, throat, and eyes on its way past. Choking, he ground out, “Hold on to that with both hands, brother.”
“Fuck, Jim.” Silence followed by a quiet clearing of his throat, and Retro asked, “How old would she be today?”
Einstein didn’t need to ask who.
“Not quite fourteen. Close. Couple of weeks.”
“And you’re headed to Bane’s for a bit of time off the road?”
He grunted in response, unable to roll vowels and consonants into words.
“Jimmy’s got a game next weekend, but then we’ve got a break. I’ll load up some brothers, and we’ll come down. Truck’s been asking me to give him a date when he could plan to do a big feed. Maybe we’ll call in some other folks, make it a big to-do. Just another Baker Mini-Rally.” He could hear something in the background, and away from the phone Retro said, “Just a minute, baby. On the horn with Einstein.” There was a soft sound, like the echo of a kiss, then Retro whispered, “Sure thing, I’ll give him your love.”
“Tell her it’s coming right back at her.” Trina was a great old lady for Retro, understanding of the time needed to keep the club healthy and the members engaged, and happy to take care of not only her man but their extended family. “She’s a good woman, Retro.”
“I got lucky.” Heaviness gone from his voice, Retro chortled. “Call me a lucky, lucky man.”
“I’ll see that lucky man in a couple of weeks. We’ll sit and chat, but in the meantime, you know where to find me.”
“That I do.” Another silence hung between them, this one less painful. “Be safe, brother. Roll easy and keep the rubber down.”
“You know it.” He disconnected the call and threw the remaining rancid coffee into the trash, lifting a hand to the guy boxed in behind the counter. Then Einstein did what he always did these days. He got in the wind again.
The sun wasn’t close to being up. He spied a scarce line of lighter darkness along the edge of the world as he swung a leg off the bike and stood, stretching. Above him, a light flickered on in the kitchen window, and he caught a glimpse of a figure moving out of sight towards the door.
With any luck, it’ll be—
The door swung open. There was a pause, then a vibrating, “Einstein.” It was too shadowy to make out her face, but Marian’s pleased call of his name made him grin. Her bedroom was near the kitchen, in a little room along the back wall of the house, so pulling up where he had, it wasn’t surprising he’d woken her. He’d earned the sharp edge of her tongue more than once when he’d tried to creep in silently to keep from doing the same, so these days, he just followed her repeated directions. “Come in. This air is cold on my feet.” Sure enough, she was barefooted, the hem of her nightgown sweeping against the skin of her ankles.
“If you’d wear socks to bed like any sane person, your feet wouldn’t be cold now.” The bag on his bike was retrieved with a few economical movements, and he paused on the bottom step, taking the edge of the door in his hand. “Mornin’, Marian.”
“Come in,” she repeated, and this time he was close enough to see the welcoming smile stretching her lips. “What can I do for you? Breakfast and coffee, or want quiet, blankets, and the guest room?”
He paused by the door and toed off his boots, bending to set them to the side. “Depends. If you go back to bed, you think you can sleep after I woke you?”
Marian had a job in town at a flower shop. According to his memories from the past year, they did a brisk business during the fall, so she probably had to go in today.
She yawned behind a hand, shaking her head as she moved towards the coffee maker. “I’m up now. Randy’ll start his nonsense soon as it gets a little lighter outside. That fool is better than an alarm clock.” A flick of a switch and the machine started humming. “Was an early night for me. Everyone was out of the house for a change, and I fell asleep reading before they got home.”
Through the years and months, he had developed a strong friendship with Marian, built on his understanding that she was as true in her heart as she was strong and resilient. His faith in her never wavered, even if hers did, and for a while, it had been him holding to that knowledge until she would accept it as truth.
It all began that first day as he’d watched her fall into a natural caregiver role around her family; then, recognizing how he’d felt, she’d taken on trying to make him less of an outsider.
Marian was the glue that held the house together, whether she’d admit it or not.
During his many visits, they’d cooked for the house, standing at the counters hip-to-hip preparing meals, Einstein quickly falling into a comfortable routine. In their conversations, he’d uncovered her deep-seated fears of being a burden, something that couldn’t be overcome with arguments.
Once he had a grasp on the issues, he’d helped her plot out a path that would move how she saw herself to the other side of the line. Everyone he’d enlisted in the efforts had willingly assisted, in whatever way made sense. Over the following months, he and Horse had taken turns teaching her to drive, then cheered her on when Truck had bought a subcompact car for her use. That had led to her applying for a job in town, excited as a schoolgirl when they’d hired her, then sick with nerves before reporting for her first day.
“No, I’m serious. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know anything about flowers or arrangements, and I don’t know people in town to even recommend something they might like.”
Einstein had taken a chance that she’d still be up, hearing through thirdhand accounts that she was nervous about her first day at the flower shop. Now, recognizing the tension in her voice, he was glad
he’d called.
“You got the job because you showed them you were willing to learn and could work hard.” When she didn’t respond after a second or two, Einstein forged ahead. “You told me they had a test, even if they didn’t call it that, and if you’d flunked out they wouldn’t have hired you. Trust, woman. Trust in yourself, yeah?”
“I won’t know what to do.”
“They’ll tell you, I’m sure. Don’t sweat it, Marian.”
“What if I mess up?”
“You will. It’s inevitable. Everyone messes up. The difference is that you won’t be afraid to own it, and then will be all-in on fixing whatever it was.” Einstein grinned down at the toes of his boots, shoulder propped against the outside wall of a Montana bar. “You’re a fixer if I’ve ever met one. Ten’ll get you twenty that within a month they’ll be asking you to work more hours.”
“I’m not taking that bet.”
“Because you know I’d win.” He chuckled quietly. “And that’s because you know I’m right.” A door opened to the side, and he looked up to see the man he needed to talk to walking out of the building. “Shit, Marian. I gotta go. I’ll call real soon and see how you did, but I’m not worried about it. Not at all, and neither should you be.” He straightened, glaring at the man while he kept his words and tone soft. “Sleep well, and do good things.”
Their history was filled with hundreds of those kinds of conversations, with the insecurity and need for reassuring eventually going both ways as Einstein found himself opening up to her more and more.
“Tell me what’s new.” Socks still on as protection against the chill of the floor, he wandered towards the kitchen, following behind Marian. He idly watched the way her nightgown swayed with every step, gaze trailing up her legs to the curves of her ass. Then he realized what he was doing and yanked his attention to the window, focused on the line of only slightly brighter light along the horizon. Shit. Fumbling for a topic, he tried to remember what he’d last said to her, deciding on a safe, “How’s work been?”
Tangled Threats on the Nomad Highway Page 18