“Go, Timmy! Go, go, go, go, go, go, go!” My throat ached, and I was hoarse from screaming. I couldn’t stop cheering for the son doctors said would never walk. His long legs pumped underneath him with exuberant, gangly steps. With a long clumsy gait, he strode to the finish line on limbs that had spent hours in physical therapy as an infant and preschooler. He didn’t learn to walk until he was nearly three years old, and once he began, there was no stopping him.
The bikers, lined up behind the fence at the finish line in front of the bleachers, waved their doo-rags, shouted, clapped, and stomped. The crowd caught the bikers’ enthusiasm as they joined in cheering for the athletes. I couldn’t recall such a roar at a local Special Olympics event. I caught Aaron more than once glancing at the bikers and grinning at their antics as they cheered our oldest son. It meant a lot to have someone in Timmy’s corner.
For half a lap, Timmy and another athlete loped side by side, neck and neck. But when they cleared the bend and ran toward the finish line, Timmy pulled ahead and cheered himself on.
“Go, Timmy! Go, go! You can do it!” He thrust his fists in the air and shouted loudly to himself. I laughed so hard I didn’t think I could breathe.
By the end of the day, Timmy won a gold medal in the softball throw and the 400-meter run. When his relay team won a silver in the 4 X 100 relay, they stood on the winner’s platform with thumbs up and enthusiastic grins. After Timmy won the bronze in the standing long jump, he ran to me and draped the medal around my neck with clumsy enthusiasm. He gave his fourth place ribbon in the running long jump to his dad to wear draped over a button on his coat. You might as well have given us a Nobel Prize for the pride we felt for our genuinely kind and loving son.
By noon, all the events were completed, and the athletes headed for home.
The bikers helped Aaron and me clean and close the stadium. When we finished, before we even thanked them, these willing volunteers mounted their bikes and started their engines.
“Hey, Atticus, where y’all headed to?” I hollered across the parking lot as I took blankets and water bottles back to the van.
“Eel Falls,” Atticus hollered at me above the roar of the engines. He dismounted his bike and walked toward Aaron and me. “Care if we pitch our tents in the churchyard?”
I felt my eyes pop. Tongues in Eel Falls would be tired from wagging all day on Sunday. I looked up at Aaron who didn’t skip a beat in agreeing to the plan.
“That sounds like a fine idea.” Aaron took the blankets and bottles from my arms and stuffed them into the wagon he was pulling.
I looked up at Atticus and held my hand over my eyes to block the sun. “Don’t be surprised if Timmy tries to join you. I’ll try, but I don’t think I’ll be able to keep him out of your tent.”
Atticus grinned. “No problem. It’s big enough for more than one.”
“Timmy go! Timmy go!” Timmy clapped and flapped his hands and walked circles around Atticus’s bike.
“Hold on, fella,” Atticus said. “Let me get you a helmet to wear.”
“You don’t need to, Atticus.” I worried that Timmy pestered people too much.
“Not a problem, Kirstie, not a problem. Let the boy ride home with us. He’s earned it.”
“We usually go out for ice cream after the Special Olympics. Would everyone like to come with us?”
Atticus turned and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, everybody, we’re following Kirstie and Pastor to get ice cream.”
A cheer rose up from the bikers, and I shrugged and got in the car with Aaron, Daniel, and Patrick.
“Wow, there are so many of them.” Aaron started the van engine, and the bikers all lined up behind us in the parking lot.
“Did you ever think my motorcycle riding would bring an evangelistic result?” I teased.
“No.” He shook his head and looked in the rearview mirror at the procession behind him. “I must admit, Kirstie, this is a big surprise to me. It hadn’t occurred to me to think of motorcyclists as an unreached people group.”
“Me either. We sure need to pray about tomorrow’s service. But isn’t it exciting?”
“Uhm, you do remember we live in Eel Falls, right? And you do remember how two people in particular are likely to react to an impromptu invasion of leather and chrome?”
I shrugged. “Look, if God ordains it, what can Bernice and Norman possibly do to make something ugly out of this?”
“You really want me to answer that?” Aaron stopped at the light, and we heard the bikes rev their engines behind us.
Daniel and Patrick were draped over the back seat looking out the rear window.
“Gosh, Mom, I’ve never seen this many bikes before.” Daniel was impressed.
“See the orange one that looks like a long lizard? It’s totally sick!” Patrick was mesmerized.
“Sick” I had learned recently, really meant “cool.”
Patrick was in awe, and that was saying something for Mr. He-who-will-not-be-impressed.
“Totally sick.” Daniel couldn’t take his eyes off the display of two wheeled chariots. “The one with the webs on it was sweet.”
“Yeah, but I liked that black bobber the best, didn’t you, Dad?” Patrick touched Aaron’s shoulder and then turned back around to watch the bikes.
I held my breath.
It was unusual lately for Patrick to elicit a conversation with his dad.
Aaron didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know a bobber from a chopper or a metric from a Harley. “They looked awesome, all of them.”
I giggled and Aaron glared at me.
We drove the rest of the way to the Crème de la Crème, my heart full of joy listening to Patrick and Daniel talking. I couldn’t remember the last time the two of them interacted and enjoyed one another’s company. Motorcycles brought them together.
If I could have taken a picture of the looks on the faces of the red hat ladies when a horde of bikers dressed in leathers descended upon their little ice cream parlor, it would have won me a Pulitzer.
“There must be a red hat event in town. Even the serving ladies are wearing red bonnets today,” I whispered to Opal.
“They look terrified.” Reba nudged me and chuckled.
“The poor dears.” Opal clucked her tongue. “I would be terrified, too, if I didn’t know better.”
“You sure would be.” I gave Opal a playful shoulder push. “Girl, you’ve blossomed.”
“Who knew a bike could change one little old lady?” Lily teased.
We placed our orders, and Lily, Aaron, and I made our way out of doors to sit on benches since the tables were all taken. Opal, Atticus, and Timmy sat at the picnic table under an umbrella by the street corner.
“Lily, how is Milo?” I took a sip of fresh limeade.
Lily set her cherry cola on the table and played with the straw. “He’s the same. But his sleeping meds are working a little better. He doesn’t hallucinate as much now.”
“That’s great news.”
A piece of ice cream sandwich fell onto Aaron’s shirt. He picked at the puddle on his shirt with a napkin and made a bigger mess. “I’ll be out to see him Monday. How does that sound?”
“We’ll look forward to your visit, Pastor, but isn’t Monday your day off?” Lily often mentioned Aaron worked too hard. It was true he rarely took his Monday off.
“It’s supposed to be, but I consider it a privilege to visit with Milo. He’s a good friend.” Aaron slipped the last bit of ice cream sandwich in his mouth.
“Pink, pink, cream, pink cream, p-i-n-k pink, At-cus.” I heard Timmy beg Atticus to order another cone for him. He loved pink.
I rushed over to them to avoid a sugar catastrophe. “We buy Timmy ice cream, remember, Timmy?” I wiped remnants of his ice cream from his chin. At least I’d remembered to drop off the gluten-free and dairy-free ice cream for Timmy a few days before.
“Timmy cream. Timmy. T-i-m-m-y, Timmy.” He beamed at Atticus. I whispered a prayer of thanks that Timmy liked his ice cream. It made life a lot easier.
The bikers gathered around Timmy and admired his medals. I thought his arm would fall off from all the high fives he gave. He actually looked like a regular kid sitting and talking with the bikers. It was a poignant picture of what might have been. For a moment, I saw him as Timmy. Not Timmy Who Has Autism. Just Timmy.
Patrick and Daniel mingled with the other bikers and asked them countless questions. Since the bikers loved talking about their bikes, everyone was having a great time.
Timmy wandered back to sit with us, and I noticed Opal and Atticus walk hand in hand down the street looking in store windows.
I nudged Lily and Reba, and we squealed and laughed like junior high school girls.
Aaron rolled his eyes and took Timmy back inside for another treat.
“I wonder if there are wedding bells in the air.” Reba laughed.
“It would be awesome to have a Harley wedding.” I sipped on my limeade and entertained visions of Opal’s wedding shower: Pink Harleys and cupcakes.
“I can hear Norman and Bernice now.” Lily laughed.
I felt my skin crawl. For a few blissful moments, I had forgotten all about the church and Norman and Bernice. I caught Reba staring at my face.
“Gee, Kirstie, you look like you just bled out. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine.” I waved her off with my hand. “I just realized that for a while there, I wasn’t thinking about church stuff.”
Reba gave me a shoulder hug. “Well, how about another surprise? I’ve talked it over with Trace, and we’re coming to church in the morning.”
“Seriously?”
“Serious as a heart attack.”
Lily and I squealed. I think our rejoicing made the red hat ladies a wee bit jealous that they weren’t in on the surprise.
****
As soon as Aaron and I arrived home, we gave a few of the church leaders a heads up about what would be rolling into town. It’s a good thing we did. Within thirty minutes, our yard and the churchyard looked like a mini Woodstock campground.
“Mom! Did you see the yard? There are tents everywhere!” Patrick acted more excited than I’d seen him in weeks.
“Can we camp outside, too, Mom?” Daniel stood in front of me with his sleeping bag.
“Sure. Why not?”
The boys cheered and Timmy joined in.
“No, Timmy, not you.” Patrick ran down the stairs with a sleeping bag and flashlight.
“Timmy camp, c-a-m-p, camp.” Timmy flicked his fingers in front of his face.
“Mom! Tell Timmy he can’t camp with us. He’ll ruin everything.” Patrick threw down his sleeping bag and rerolled it.
I was growing weary of Patrick’s rejection of Timmy. “How will he ruin it? The family tent is big enough for all of you.”
“We don’t want to set that one up, we want the pup tents.” Patrick crossed his arms.
“It’s OK, Patrick. Timmy can stay with Mom and Dad and me in the big tent.” Daniel, ever the peacekeeper, went to Timmy and patted him on the back.
Aaron and I looked at one another. Daniel often accommodated his brothers’ issues, and Aaron and I both realized we depended on his diplomacy far too often. It made survival with autism easier, but it wasn’t fair.
“No. You boys sleep in your pup tents. Mom and I will sleep in the big tent with Timmy.” Aaron tussled Daniel’s hair.
“But don’t you gotta preach in the morning, Dad?” Daniel asked. We usually worked our Saturday evenings around Aaron’s need to be well rested on Sunday morning.
“It’s OK, son.” Aaron took the family tent from Daniel’s hands and patted him on the shoulder. “It’ll be fun. How often do you get to camp out with a bunch of bikers in your yard?”
While a few bikers settled in for the evening, others walked and rode all over downtown Eel Falls. They bought out all the Amish fruit and vegetable stands at the farmer’s market, all the Amish bread, and most of the crafts. Several of them eagerly ordered furniture from the Old Order German Baptist craftsmen.
After we helped some of the bikers settle in, Lily, Reba and I decided to take a leisurely walk to the park.
“What a paradox,” I mumbled under my breath. We strolled down Main Street watching the plain clothes mingle with the biker leathers. “Did you ever think you’d see something like this in Eel Falls?”
“Not me.” Reba shook her head. “And I sure didn’t think I’d see that.” She pointed ahead at Opal and Atticus strolling arm in arm toward the park. Opal looked like those tiny dolls I saw at the Shipshewana flea markets. Atticus lumbered beside her like a big fluffy teddy bear. A perfect fit.
“Another paradox,” I whispered.
Lily sighed. “Opal’s finding love, and I’m losing mine.” Her melancholy voice slipped into the thick tall trees standing dark against a pale lavender sky in the city park.
We sat on a bench swing in silence and watched Opal and Atticus walk hand in hand toward the bubbling waterfall sheltered beneath shade trees at the far end of a memorial garden. From where we sat we could see Atticus lean down and steal a tentative kiss from little spinster, Opal Camille Abernathy. Transfixed, we watched as he caressed the outline of her face and kissed her softly on the lips again, as if it was the most natural thing for a burly biker from the mountains of North Carolina to do. Opal stood on her tiptoes beside an unbending oak, draped her arms around his giant neck, and kissed him as if she’d been doing that very thing her entire life.
“When I get home, I’m gonna plant one on Trace just like that. The old boy won’t know what hit him.” Reba sighed.
“Just don’t keep him up too late, Reba kitten.” I poked her in the shoulder.
“Ouch. Why not?”
“I don’t want you to be late for church.”