chapter forty-one

The sun was shining as he rode over the crest of the hill, the ocean waves coming into full view. The rays warmed his face—
a refreshing change from the terrible rainstorms that he’d just ridden through. He slowed his bike to bask in the warmth and to admire the surroundings. The low rumble of the engine beneath him was sweet and solid. The valley around him was green and lush, with plants—strange plants—blanketing each side of the highway.

He could see the bridge in the distance, and it was stunning—just like he’d remembered as a child. The pillars towered, huge orange skyscrapers reaching heavenward, roped together with strands of massive twisted cable.

The road should have been crowded with people coming to enjoy the splendor of such a day, the majesty of such a bridge—and yet today the path lay vacant and deserted. The sky above the bridge was an astonishing shade of vivid blue, with only a few wispy clouds on the horizon that served to contrast the deepness of its color.

As the bike rolled on toward the grandeur before him, Dave could feel and smell the ocean air blowing in from the bay. It was fresh and cool—the perfect mixture of salt and sea. His hair blew in the wind.

It was just as he had imagined it.

The bridge—the bridge to freedom—lay majestically before him, beckoning. The view was grand, and he found himself wishing Megan were with him to share in the moment.

No sooner had the thought entered his mind than the sound of another bike startled him. As he turned to look behind him, Megan pulled up to his side. It was peculiar to see her riding a motorcycle . . . so out of character. And yet she looked comfortable on the bike—at peace, and enjoying the beauty of the day.

It had been so long since they’d been together, so many months since they’d had a chance to talk. He wanted to speak—to touch her—to hold her—to tell her how much she had been missed. He knew the rumble of the engines would drown out his words, but he found himself speaking them anyway.

“Meg, I’ve missed you.”

He was startled to hear her answer—whispered, and yet as clear as if they’d stood in a quiet room alone. “I’ve missed you as well, honey.”

Her voice was sweet and soft, her smile radiant, her face and body so full of life.

“It’s been so hard without you,” he said, not knowing if she had known the turmoil in his life.

She smiled her understanding—a smile that let him know that she was aware, that she cared. “You’ve been doing fine, Ponytail Man. Just fine.”

He’d never felt fine, not until today. His thoughts turned to the children.

“What about Brad, Brittany, Angel—how are they?”

No sooner had he spoken their names than the sound of another bike resonated behind them. He turned to see Brad pull up adjacent to Meg. He was riding his own bike, a dark blue Classic Swift Tail with shimmering chrome—a smaller, easier-to-handle bike. Dave recognized the model from the showroom at Lakeshore. Brittany sat in back, her arms wrapped tightly around Brad’s waist.

Brad gave Dave a thumbs-up sign before he spoke. “This is the coolest, Dad—absolutely the coolest!” Brittany’s braces glistened as she beamed her approval of the journey as well. With a slight acceleration of the throttle, Brad’s bike pulled ahead, taking the lead in their excursion toward the bridge.

“And Angel?” Dave asked Megan once Brad had passed. As he spoke her name, Dave noticed a sidecar attached to Meg’s bike. Strange that he hadn’t seen it before. Angel was seated in the sidecar, surrounded by a few of her favorite toys. She held a flower in her hand from which she was pulling the petals and leaves and letting them go in the wind. Watching them flutter away made her giggle.

“Still precocious?” Dave questioned.

“Afraid so,” Megan responded with a laugh—a laugh that was rich, warm, and familiar.

The bridge was drawing closer, the pillars rising high into the sky as they neared its entrance. The purring sound of the engine on Dave’s bike changed—a quick sputter, a sudden loss of power. He twisted the accelerator, hoping it would help. The engine continued to falter.

It was the carburetor—the same problem he’d just had outside of Liberty. He reached down and tapped the side of the bike. The sputtering worsened.

“Meg?” His heart quickened at the realization that he might not be able to keep up. She slowed her speed to match his, aware of his trouble and concern. “Meg, it’s the carburetor,” he continued, pointing down at the engine. “It gave me some trouble a ways back, near Liberty. It needs an adjustment. I need to stop and fix it, but I can’t be left behind.”

Her tone was understanding, her voice full of reassurance. “Honey, it’s okay. I think that you should stay here and get your bike fixed—do what you need to—get things taken care of—then catch up to us later. I’ll ride up ahead with the kids. We’ll wait for you on the other side of the bridge.”

He wanted to protest, to change her mind, to convince her and the children to stay. She continued, “Everything will be fine. We’ll be waiting for you—I promise.”

The sputtering worsened. Meg’s bike pulled slightly ahead.

“I love you,” he called to her.

“And I love you too, Ponytail Man.”

A warm fog enveloped the bridge. It rolled soundlessly across the structure, its piers and anchorages, its cables and towers. As Dave’s bike coasted to a stop on the side of the road, he watched Brad and Brittany enter the bridge first. He could hear their laughter, feel their anticipation.

Next he watched Megan and Angel approach the structure. He wanted to feel sad—sad that they were leaving, sad that he was being left behind—but for the first time in months, he didn’t.

She was distant now, but he thought he heard her voice one last time. I love you, Ponytail Man.

He watched Meg glide onto the bridge—the bridge of magic, the bridge of hope—and then slowly disappear into the mist with Angel by her side, still throwing petals into the wind.