chapter thirty-four

When they had first moved into the area four years earlier, it had bothered Crystal to let the kids run free, to play by themselves. It was against her nature—her experience—to let them be so independent. Liberty was a small town, however, a safe town, and in time her worries abated.

Today, when she noticed the children approaching with a stranger, her pulse quickened. The closer they got to the house, the angrier she became. After all, she had just had the stranger talk again with Gracie last week—would that girl never learn?

Crystal waited on the front porch as the posse approached. Gracie was the first to speak. “Mommy! Look what we brought home!”

“Hello,” Dave said as he extended his hand. She shook it curtly, then pulled her hand away. She hated to be rude in front of the children, but bringing a biker home? It was not acceptable.

“Is everything okay? Can I help you with something?” she asked briskly.

Gracie chimed in again. “He wants to use the phone. His motorcycle’s busted.” Then, without hesitation, she added, “And he showed Jared and Glen how to bat ’cause they were doin’ it wrong and he’s really good.”

The boys shrugged sheepishly, both old enough to realize that once this guy was gone, they were toast. Dave stepped in, “I don’t mean to bother you. My bike broke down a couple of miles from town. I pushed it to the ball diamond. The kids volunteered your phone. If it’s too much trouble, I’ll look somewhere else.”

She had watched the news, seen the horror stories that occur when you let your guard down. She felt her pocket. It was empty. After another moment of hesitation, she cautiously relented. “It’s fine, come on in. My cell is in the bedroom, but we have a landline in the kitchen.”

Before opening the door, she spoke to the children. “Kids, you stay outside and play. Do you hear me?” By the look on her face and the tone of her voice, they knew she meant business.

She pulled the door open and pointed toward the kitchen. She let him step in first and then followed a few steps behind—close enough to watch, but at enough of a distance to run for the door if necessary.

“The phone is in there on the counter. My husband will be home soon, and he’s pretty handy. Perhaps he can help fix your bike.”

Dave walked down the short hall in the direction she had pointed. A bathroom door hung open nearby; a full-length mirror covered the inside. He jolted to a confused stop when he noticed his reflection—wet shirt, hair sticking out in all directions, his face covered in a dark stubble.

“I look pretty scary, don’t I?” he said.

She wasn’t sure how to respond. “No—yes. Well . . .”

“And I probably smell just as bad?”

Her mouth was open, but no words would come out. Silence lingered in the air until both began to laugh.

“Yes, you do,” she finally admitted, “you smell horrible.” She extended her hand as if for the first time. “I’m Crystal Davis.” Dave shook it again. Her icy stare thawed.

“I’m Dave Riley. And I promise, I don’t always smell like this.”

“It’s the heat. Don’t worry about it.” Then she added, “And the phone is on the counter.”

He hesitated. “I don’t mean to be a bother, but do you have a computer? I need to find a number for the nearest motorcycle shop.”

“I can grab my cell, but I can tell you already, the only shop in town that can work on motorcycles is Darin’s RV. It’s after six now; he’ll be closed.”

His eyes darted to the clock on the wall—he’d missed it by half an hour.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to try.”

She grabbed her phone from the bedroom, tapped on the screen to find the number, and then called. Both listened to it ring, then switch to voice mail.

“How about some premium gas? Is there a station close?” he asked.

“Believe it or not, we do have gas stations. Let me see if I can find an empty can and I’ll run you down to the Texaco.”

“Just point me in the direction, I can walk.”

He looked rough and smelled worse, but even so, he was certainly the most polite biker she’d ever met.

“Look, it’s not a problem—I can take you.” She opened the door and waited for him to follow.

A metal can was located and the kids were loaded into the car. She waited for him to climb into the passenger’s seat and then pulled out of the driveway.

“So what does your husband do?”

She glanced into the rearview mirror and checked the children. “He works for the school district. He’ll be home a little later. Some days he works late.” She understood he was just trying to be polite, trying to make conversation. In truth, his questions made her nervous.

“And how about yourself?” Dave asked.

She slowed at the intersection and pretended to look for traffic. There was none. Her answer was brief, bordering on curt. “I teach.”

He didn’t prod or push further, and with the exception of polite, one-word responses to questions from the children, he said nothing more.

• • •

Gracie pressed her hands intently against the inside glass of the family-room window. Her eyes shifted between Dave and his bike. Crystal found her behavior curious. Even more peculiar was the fact that Jared and Glen had both volunteered to help with dinner, though their motives were soon betrayed.

“Mom, can we get a new bat?” Jared asked.

“You already have a bat.”

“Yeah, but it’s too big.”

“Too big? How can a bat be too big?”

“It is, Mom,” Glen piped in. “Dave said so, and he coached a state team.”

“Is that so?”

Both nodded, waiting for her response.

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow. Now go wash up.”

She turned toward the family room and called, “Gracie, go wash up for dinner.” The little girl either purposely ignored her or was so intently focused on the subject outside that she didn’t hear.

“Hello? Are you in there?” Crystal chided, raising her voice until Gracie turned in her direction. “Go wash up now—dinner is almost ready.”

Crystal moved to the window next to where her daughter stood and glanced out at Dave. He sat motionless on the ground beside his bike. As she watched, Gracie posed the question she’d been pondering. “Mom, can we keep him?”

Crystal bit her lip to keep from laughing. “He’s not a pet, he’s a person. So, no, dear, we can’t keep him.”

Gracie’s sigh was obvious. “Just ’til tomorrow?”

Crystal bent down and swatted her daughter lightly on the behind, then pushed her toward the bathroom. “Go wash your hands. I’ll walk out and see how he’s doing.”

Dave was deep in thought staring up at the bike—or past it—when she approached.

“I’ve got some dinner ready.” Her words startled him, and he jumped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s okay.”

“No luck with the bike?”

He shook his head. “It’s not the fuel—but I’m embarrassed to admit, I don’t know that much about the engine. It just doesn’t make sense. My friend Redd looked it over before I left and said it was flawless. I guess my best hope is to get it to a bike shop in the morning.”

“Tomorrow?” she questioned.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not for me, but for them it will be—it’s Sunday tomorrow. The only shop in town will be closed.”

“Today’s Saturday?” He looked at the numbers on his watch and then counted the days backwards.

“You didn’t realize?” Crystal said.

“I guess I lost a day somewhere. And there’s just the one shop?”

“The next closest would be in Sterling, but that’s a good forty minutes away, and I’m guessing they’ll be closed tomorrow as well. Look, I have dinner ready. You’re welcome to join us and then figure it out afterwards.”

Dave had been starving hours ago. Right now he would eat gravel.

“Thanks. It smells great.”

Dave walked beside her to the house. On their way she began to apologize, “We don’t always eat this late, so please don’t think I’m a delinquent mother. It’s just with summer, and it being light so late, well—anything besides cold cereal is considered a treat.”

“Delinquent? Hardly. I used to coach kids. I’m a good judge of their character. Trust me when I tell you that you’re raising some great children.”

She accepted the praise with a smile, as if compliments were too few and far between to do otherwise.

“You know,” she said, “it’s nice to hear that once in a while. Do you have children of your own?”

His step quickened. His mouth pinched closed. He was slow to answer. “I have three,” he finally said.

She nodded but didn’t pry further. As they neared the house, Crystal motioned to the window where Gracie stood watching.

“Well, there’s a six-year-old girl inside who is mesmerized.”

When they neared the door, Dave reached out to open it for Crystal. At the sight of his own grease-covered hands, he jerked back.

“You think I smelled bad before, you’d better add oil and gasoline to the list.”

She grabbed the knob to pull the door open herself and then stepped past him. “That’s okay,” she answered dryly. “Gasoline is an improvement.”

• • •

The food was delicious, the conversation light—even pleasant. The boys finished quickly and asked to be excused to watch TV. Crystal obliged. Gracie picked at her food, prolonging the event, as if not wanting to miss anything at the table. As Crystal and Dave continued their conversation, Gracie listened.

“So, what kind of work do you do?” Crystal asked.

“I work for a marketing research firm in Manhattan. How about you? You said you were a teacher?”

“Third graders.”

“Bet that keeps you busy. And you said your husband works at the school district? Is he a teacher as well?”

“No, he’s not.” Crystal eyed Gracie, noticed her glass half empty, and poured her more water. Dave waited for an explanation, but when none came, he continued.

“Listen, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

Gracie was trying her best to separate the food left on her plate into distinct piles. She didn’t appear to be paying attention to the two adults.

“He often works late,” Crystal replied. “It’s just the way it is.”

Her answer was rushed, like it had been in the car when Dave had first broached the subject.

Gracie set down her knife, then turned toward Dave, as if she’d been a part of the conversation the entire time. “Mommy’s not married anymore.” She met Crystal’s glare with innocence. “Are you, Mommy?”

Crystal coughed, then flushed red.

“Not married?” Dave asked, as if a coup had been exposed right there at the table.

Gracie shook her head, causing her thin, white-blonde hair to flip from side to side. “Nope.”

When Dave turned toward Crystal with a smile, she relented.

“I didn’t mean to lie. It’s what you’re supposed to do when a stranger comes into your house.”

“Especially a long-haired, smelly biker who hasn’t shaved in a week?” Dave added.

She shrugged back. “Anyone ready for dessert?”

• • •

It caught Crystal off guard when Dave carried the dinner dishes to the sink. She appreciated the help, and he seemed like a nice guy—she just knew so little about him. And most troubling—how stable was a biker?

“Crystal, it was a terrific dinner. You’ve been very nice to me, but I’d better find a place to spend the night. Is there a motel nearby?”

Common sense battled loneliness. “They’re building a new one on the far side of town, but it won’t be done for several months. Fact is, most people don’t stop here. They go on ahead to Sterling. Other than that, I think all we have is the Sundowner.”

“That works.”

She hesitated. “Well—”

“Is there a problem?”

“It’s called the Sundowner for a reason. The sun set a long time ago on that place. It’s kind of dumpy.”

“It’ll be fine. In fact, if you want to point me in the general direction, I’ll walk.”

“Oh, quit it with the walking thing. Your politeness is making me nervous. It’s a five-minute drive. I’ll take you.”

She didn’t mind dropping him off, but the thought of loading up the kids one more time was more than she could handle. She turned to Dave, “You’re about to realize I’m not such a great mother after all.” Then she called out to her kids, “Gracie, go get in bed right now. Jared, you’re in charge. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Any other time, Jared would have complained. With Dave watching, he stood attentive.

Crystal continued, “You know the rules. Don’t answer the phone. Don’t answer the door. I’ll take my cell phone. It will be just ten minutes, so you and Glen watch TV until I get back, then it’s bedtime.”

Gracie began her protest. “No fair! How come they get to watch TV and I don’t?”

It didn’t take much tonight to get Mom to cave. “Ten minutes, Gracie, that’s all—then you get in bed, no questions asked. And I don’t want to come back and hear that you were a pain. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Dave grinned, as if perhaps the routine looked familiar.

While Crystal grabbed her keys, Dave retrieved a few personal items from his bike’s saddlebags. When she pulled up the car, he climbed inside.

“So you won’t report me to the authorities?” she asked.

“Actually, I am the State Child Inspector. I’m placing you under arrest.”

They smiled together.

The motel was just a few minutes away, so while driving, Crystal offered up a little background. She explained that the complex had been originally built in the late 1940s to cater to fishermen who were expected to flock into the area once the levees upstream regulated the river’s flow. The fishermen apparently had never materialized. Since then, the single row of eight dilapidated cabins had been strung together with a slipshod roof so they would be taxed as one building and not eight. Separate bathrooms had been added to the back of each unit in a “remodel” ten years later. No one in town could ever explain to Crystal why indoor plumbing hadn’t been part of the original plan, except to say that fishermen prefer the great outdoors.

Tonight, as they approached, light from the almost-full moon was casting an eerie glow across the complex, though the buildings themselves were completely dark. While the place may have been described as quaintly rustic in its day, it hadn’t approached rural charm in years.

Five of the eight cabin doors were wide open, with nary a soul in sight. Rugs and carpet had been pulled out of the units and were draped over the front railings. The light on the parking area’s single pole was out as well. It was a parking lot normally covered with a hefty layer of gravel, but when Dave rolled down his window for a closer inspection, he could see moonlight reflecting off what looked to be a three-inch-deep lake.

“Just like you said, it is a bit—well—run-down, isn’t it?” Dave commented dryly.

Crystal started to laugh. Calling the place a dive was too kind—it was a disaster area.

“I swear it wasn’t like this a few days ago. It looks like they had a water leak or something.”

“Or the dam broke,” Dave added. “Now what?”

“Unless you’re a good swimmer, you can’t stay here,” she said, stating the obvious. “The next closest place is almost an hour away, and I can’t leave the kids that long.”

“How about a campground?”

“You mean like a KOA?” she asked.

“Sure. Any kind, I’m easy.”

“I can’t think of one. We’re not big campers.” She paused for a moment, her head bobbing back and forth slightly, weighing the pros and cons of an idea that had been rattling around in her brain. “Listen, we have space in our front yard. You can roll your sleeping bag out there. You do have a sleeping bag, don’t you?”

“I do, but I hate to impose.”

“Under the circumstances, can you think of a better choice?”

He paused, obviously sorting his options. “I won’t be a bother, I promise. Now, you better get out of this lot before we’re both stuck in this car for the night.”

• • •

By the time Crystal had chased Gracie to bed, Dave had his sleeping bag rolled out next to his bike. He appeared to be looking at the stars.

Jared stepped to the window beside his mother and watched Dave for a moment with her. “How come he gets to sleep outside and we don’t?” he whined.

She was losing her patience. “I told you to get in bed. Right now! I’m not going to tell you again.”

Glen was still in the kitchen getting a drink of water. When he returned, she marched beside both boys to the bathroom and waited while they brushed their teeth. After they had been duly tucked in, she kissed them on the cheek and then offered her final threat, as if it would help.

“If you get out of bed, there will be extra chores in the morning. Hear me?” When they both agreed, she left to check on Gracie. Thank goodness one of the three was asleep.

Then, in stocking feet so the boys wouldn’t hear, she slipped back to the window to watch Dave.

He was such a pleasant guy, though his appearance was still perplexing. He didn’t seem as rough as he looked, as threatening as his image led one to believe. He simply wasn’t your average biker. Or was he? She’d seen them riding in groups down the freeway from time to time. But as she thought about it, she’d never really stopped one. Were they all this nice?

Even from the window, she could tell he was awake; he kept shifting his position on the hard ground. The voices—the arguments—started once again in her head. Five minutes later, she stepped outside and marched toward him. She didn’t bother with the typical good evening.

“Listen, if my mother knew, she’d kill me. If word gets around town, I’m done for. For the record, it’s against my better judgment—but why don’t you come inside and just sleep on the couch.”

“Can I bring my guns and knives?”

“Sure, why not?” she answered. It had been such a long time since a guy had made her laugh.

Dave picked up his sleeping bag and a few things from the bike. Once inside, he rolled out his bag on the couch.

“Can I make you some coffee?” she asked.

“That would be great.” He followed her to the kitchen, and while they waited for the water to boil, they sat at the table and talked. It was small talk at first, though it didn’t take long to get to the questions each wanted to ask.

“No husband . . . does that mean you’re divorced?”

She nodded. “He took off when I was pregnant with Gracie. Eight months pregnant, to be exact. He left a note—a note, can you believe that? Like I was a one-night stand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay—though to this day it amazes me that a person could be so cruel.”

“Another woman?”

“There’s always another woman. I haven’t seen him, though, in five and a half years—since our last court date. I heard he moved to someplace in Florida. What kind of father would walk away from such terrific kids?”

Dave didn’t need to answer. “Do the kids remember him?”

“The boys? Not really. Probably better that way. So, how about you, Dave Riley? I noticed you’re wearing a ring, and you said you have three children—I take it you’re married?”

He hated to go into detail, so he kept his answers short.

“My wife was killed in a car accident a few months ago.”

She winced. “I am so sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’m still a little—well, confused about it, actually.”

She was surprised when he continued. “I had three children—I lost them also. I’m sorry if earlier I implied otherwise.”

“You’re talking to the woman who told you her husband was coming home.” More smiles. “That explains it, though,” she added.

“Explains what?”

“Why you’re great with the kids. You’ve had some practice.”

The coffeemaker on the counter beeped as it finished draining. Crystal retrieved the pot and poured two cups.

After taking a few sips, Dave opted for a change of subject. “Is this your hometown?”

“No. We’ve been here four years now. We lived in Kansas City. I tried to keep the house there as long as I could, but it was a big house, and—well, things don’t always work out like you expect, do they?”

“No, they don’t. What brought you here, then?”

“Two things. A job, for one. The district had an opening, and I needed the work.”

“And the second?”

“To get away from the memories—to have a place where I could start fresh, create my own life. Does that seem too weird?”

“Not at all.”

After their cups were empty, Crystal poured more.

“The boys said you coached a baseball team,” she said. “Tell me about that.”

She found his company pleasing; he seemed to feel the same about her. They laughed at the same jokes, reflected when no words needed to be spoken. Each listened. It was one-thirty in the morning before she noticed her watch.

“Oh my, have you seen the time?” she asked.

“I’m sorry to keep you up.”

“No, it was a pleasure. And I didn’t mean to talk your ear off. With the three children at home, and then more during the day when school is on . . . well, I don’t get much of a chance to carry on normal adult conversations.”

Before she stood, she reached out and touched his hand resting on the table. It was a casual touch, a token of friendship, and yet a soft touch. As her fingers rested on his, his arm tensed, as if he wanted to pull it away but couldn’t. She spoke sincerely while holding her grasp. “Really, thank you . . . for listening.” When she let go, he moved his hand under the table.

“I have the same problem—and I don’t even teach school.”

“Well, good night, Dave Riley.”

“Thanks again. Good night.”

• • •

Dave could feel his quickened pulse as Crystal walked from the kitchen, down the hall, and into her own bedroom. He listened to the sound of her door closing before he clicked off the light and dropped back into the chair.

The sounds of her getting ready for bed permeated the small house. He looked down, then shook his fingers as if they were asleep, as if the blood had stopped flowing and he needed to start it again. The air was suddenly stifling, and he wished that he’d stayed outside beneath the stars. Still, he didn’t move. He waited until her room was quiet, until the rhythm of his own breath had slowed, before moving to the bathroom to get himself ready for bed. He undressed in total darkness.

After he’d climbed inside his sleeping bag, he listened again for any further sound, any hint that anyone else was also awake. Nothing. His eyes burned. The sun would be coming up in just a few more hours, and he needed to sleep. Instead, his thoughts swirled in a tangled mix of confusion.

He didn’t have time for this delay. He had to get his bike fixed. Most important, he had to get to the bridge.