Sam and Pammy dropped them off at a truck stop on the outskirts of Albuquerque. While Grace paid for two rooms at the motel next door, Ray called AAA to pick up the Olds and have it taken to a mechanic who specialized in classic American-made cars. When Ray announced he was headed to the shop – easy walking distance from the motel, as luck would have it – to discuss the repairs, Benny and Grace trooped over with him.
The estimate for a new engine block was staggering.
"Of course I'm going to have to order it," said the mechanic, a thick-waisted, fortyish man in blue coveralls and grease. "That'll take some time."
"How much time?"
"Three or four weeks probably."
Grace sighed, a painful sound, and went outside.
"We don't have three or four weeks," Ray said, keeping an eye on his friend through the shop's glass door. The stiff way Grace stood made her look fragile, like a gust of wind would shatter her. The full impact of her desperation to reach the Stardust in time hadn't hit him until this afternoon. She stole her sister-in-law's car to get there, for God's sake. Ray hadn't felt this protective of a woman since Gin. And he was letting her down. Never mind he only just met her Sunday afternoon. She had become more to him and his son in those two and a half days than he ever expected possible. She rode the same damn emotional rollercoaster he and Benny were on, headed for something just out of reach.
He didn't know how he was going to pay for the work on the Olds. He had a little money in –
"Dad?"
"Not now, son." Ray cleared his throat and met the mechanic's steady gaze. "Listen, we need to be in Nevada the day after tomorrow and I'm...well..."
Benny reached around him and laid a bundle of twenties on the counter. Ray went speechless while his brain attempted to explain the money's presence. Of course it was Johnny's, but how did it get here? "What's in the bag?" he wondered aloud.
"Books."
Ray frowned. "Books?"
Benny gave an impatient huff. "In the motel room. Phone book. Bible."
"Aw, crap."
His son drew another bundle of twenties from a side pocket of his cargo shorts and laid it beside the first, lining them up on the counter so they formed a perfect rectangle. Ray's gaze jerked from the money to the mechanic – who continued to stare at the perfect rectangle of money – and wondered what might be going through the man's mind. Guilt, warranted or not, had Ray searching for an explanation that wouldn't make them out to be crooks or idiots. Both of which, if he thought on it too long, fit the bill.
The mechanic finally pried his eyes from the money and looked up. "I might have a solution to your problem, providing those greenbacks are real."
"Oh they're real," Ray muttered. "But we – " Can't spend them, he intended to say, but his son and the mechanic had already turned away and headed into the back of the shop, the money no longer on the counter.
~~~
Disappointment drained Grace. She wanted to cry but couldn't muster the strength. I been actin' like a fool on a fool's journey. The late afternoon heat pushed down on her shoulders and anchored her feet as though the souls of her shoes had melted to the sidewalk. The smell of dirty oil baking on concrete permeated from the shop's open rollup door a few feet away. Half a dozen cars waiting their turn for repair lined the chain-link fence surrounding the area. One looked like Ed's cream-yellow Lincoln, except somebody had painted flames up the side. Grace regretted not having the energy to be amused by the idea of her Eddy behind the wheel of something like that.
What am I going do?
She had misplaced some of her money. There should have been more in her wallet when she pulled it out to help pay for a room at the truck stop motel. Replaying every step between Little Rock and hitching a ride with the trucker couple, Grace drew a blank.
Did I leave the waitress in Springer a whopper of a tip? Could two bills have stuck together when I paid for Benny's camera? Maybe I dropped some when I dug for change to call home.
The only thing she knew for certain was she couldn't afford to go forward and she couldn't afford to go back. She knew what her papa would have done, but that was too many years ago.
Lord Jesus, forgive me. Show me the way.
"How would you feel about riding in a sidecar?"
Grace jumped, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. She looked up at the silly grin on Ray's face. "What on earth you talkin' about?"
Her snappish tone only made him grin wider. "Come with me and I'll show you."
She followed Ray into the mechanic's shop, around a sporty-looking blue car on a lift, past a rack of tools and fan belts and other parts foreign to Grace. The temperature cooled the deeper they went into the concrete space. There, tucked out of the way in a back corner, sat a gleaming black motorcycle with a sidecar.
"It's a Pearl Black Harley Davidson Softtail," Ray informed her. The reverence in his voice made him sound like a kid who just opened what he wanted most for Christmas.
"The Black Pearl," Benny said, squirming in place like he had ants in his pants.
"What's gotten into you two?" Grace looked from father to son and back to father. "Whose motorcycle is this?"
"Mine," Ray said.
"I don't understand. Where'd you get the mon..." Her voice trailed off as realization settled in. "You didn't. Lord have mercy, tell me you didn't."
"I didn't," Ray assured her.
"I did," Benny said.
"I need to sit."
~~~
Ray knew he had no right to spend Johnny's money. The disbelief on Grace's face confirmed it. She leaned her rump against the Harley's saddle and looked at him like he'd lost his mind, like she'd never seen him before. Hell, he didn't recognize himself anymore either. Maybe he had lost his mind.
Blame it on the motorcycle. Not just any motorcycle – a Harley Davidson. When the mechanic – Andy was his name – uncovered the bike, Ray reeled against a flood of memories, the plans he and Gin made, the years spent talking about cross country travel once he retired. They could have taken the Olds, but he insisted a Harley was the only way to go, and he convinced Gin of it. At least she sounded willing enough, providing they didn't tent. He would never know for sure. Harleys were expensive. Time ran out.
Andy took the bike in trade for a 1968 Gran Torino GT, he told Ray. Now he needed to sell it to cover business expenses.
"You buy the bike," Andy said, "and I'll throw in the labor on your Olds for free."
Ray felt his resistance crumble. The mechanic's offer trumped any concerns over whose money he was spending. Destiny. That's what it felt like. Fate. No stopping the rollercoaster now.
Sit down, shut up and hang on.
He looked at Grace and said, "Trust me."
~~~
Grace did trust him. She had put her trust in him the moment they met. The haunted hope in his blue eyes as he waited for her approval decided it for her now. Whatever demons drove him, she had become a part of it, this journey that none of them seemed to have any control over. And God help her, she wanted to get to the Stardust before it ceased to exist.
The Lord will provide.
She straightened and said, "We're going need riding gear."
~~~
Benny got the rest of the money from his suitcase to give to his dad to pay for their new motorcycle clothes. He was glad Dad didn't get mad when he found out the truth.
Dad let him "get outfitted" first. It took a long time to find leather pants big enough to go around his root beer belly but not too long so they had to be rolled up. Leather didn't roll up very good. He didn't have Mama to hem them for him, like she always did with his school pants. They finally found a pair that fit, though, and finding a jacket that fit was easy. Benny liked the way it smelled and made him feel tough. The big black boots were heavy. He practiced stomping around the store and decided they fit good too.
When Dad came out of the dressing room a little while later, wearing a black leather jacket and pants and boots, Benny sucked in a breath and whispered, "The Terminator."
Dad put on a pair of dark sunglasses. "Come with me if you want to live."
Just like in the movie. Excitement shivered through Benny.
Grace came out of the other dressing room, wearing her own black leather jacket, pants and boots. "I feel like a stuffed olive."
Dad snickered. Benny giggled, went to Grace and put his arm around her. "Looking good," he said. He meant it too. She looked tough, like she could stop bullets.
"Thank you, sugar." She gave him a squeeze. "Let's go pick out helmets 'fore anybody else sees me."
~~~
"You ever rode a bike with a sidecar?" Andy asked when they went back to pick up the Harley.
"Nope." Ray figured to steer instead of lean into turns. How hard could it be?
"Let's wheel it out back so you can practice," Andy offered.
A narrow blacktopped strip behind the building, an alleyway of sorts, ran the length of the block – buildings on the left, a chain-link fence and tall shrubs on the right. Ray swung his leg over the saddle, the motion causing his bruised tailbone to twinge a reminder, and started the engine. A thrill shot through him as the bike growled to life, the ache in his tailbone forgotten.
"Man, that sounds good," he shouted above the beefy rumble.
Andy grinned. "Who's your ballast?"
"My ballast?"
Grace stepped forward. "I think he means me."
"Climb on in," Andy said. "Be sure to fasten your seatbelt." He turned to Benny. "Go ahead and get on behind your dad. Might as well feel how the bike's gonna handle fully loaded."
Benny couldn't lift his leg high enough to clear the seat. Ray got off and helped him, then endured another sharp stab from his tailbone climbing back on.
"Take it slow at first," Andy warned. "She's gonna yaw."
Ray eased out on the clutch and the bike headed for the fence.
"Watch out!" Grace shouted.
Ray hit the brakes and the bike slued toward the building. Sweat popped out on his arms as he brought the Harley to a shaky stop.
"Thing to remember," Andy hollered, sprinting to catch up, "most of your weight's in the bike and driver, so the sidecar acts as a drag."
Now he tells me.
The band of Benny's arms around his waist made it hard to breathe. "Loosen up, son."
"'kay."
Ray took a breath and tried again. Prepared for the drag this time, he managed to keep the bike pointed straight. The front end began shimmying and he stopped again.
"That normal?" he asked when Andy caught up to them.
Andy nodded. "It'll smooth out once you pick up a little speed. Go ahead and take 'er around the side streets here, get used to turning. Even with ballast, you'll need to lean your weight into the turn to keep the sidecar on the road."
Ray glanced over at Grace. Her skin had gone a sickly shade of gray and she gripped the edge of the sidecar with a look of determination.
What the hell have I gotten us into?
"Hang on," he said, attempting to make light of the situation.
Benny's arms tightened.
"Not that hard, son."
"Sorry."
The band around his waist relaxed and Ray eased out on the clutch, accelerated through the shimmy, maneuvered the first right turn okay and then a left. Over-confident, he took the next right too sharp and fast. The sidecar lifted and headed for a power pole. Grace screamed. Benny screamed. Ray was too busy getting the bike under control to scream, but he wanted to.
He got them stopped and they sat for a few seconds with the bike half up on the sidewalk, its engine lobbing patiently, the nose of the sidecar inches from the pole.
Finally Grace asked, "Do you know what you did wrong?"
"Yep."
"Good." She released her grip on the sidecar and folded her hands in her lap, looking for all the world like somebody's grandma out for a relaxing Sunday afternoon drive. "Then let's be goin' to Vegas."
~~~
The sky over Albuquerque burned red as dusk settled in. While Benny and Grace rested in their rooms, Ray began packing the saddlebags and the sidecar's storage compartment. He tied the tent to the backrest. Benny's cowboy hat would have to stay behind. When Ray suggested the same for the pirate hat, Benny put up such a fuss that Ray relented and found a way to secure it to the Harley's windshield just above the headlamp.
The Black Pearl. It had a nice ring to it. And now it was dressed the part. Ray put what remained of the money in a small leather bag and strapped it to the handlebars where he could keep an eye on it. He knew Johnny would eventually catch up with them. It was just a matter of where and when. He hoped he had a plan by then. He asked Grace to trust him, but he wasn't sure he trusted himself. What kind of man spent money that didn't belong to him on a full-dress Harley Davidson with sidecar? But damn, it felt right.
He'd never ridden in a sidecar before and decided to see how it fit.
~~~
"The search has been called off for Grace Brown, reported missing since Sunday. Mrs. Brown's husband, Reverend Edward Brown, heard from his wife in a phone call made by her late this afternoon. Reverend Brown didn't want to go on camera, but issued a statement thanking everyone involved in the search, and apologized for causing undue concern. He wouldn't say where his wife called from, only that she sounded well and knew where she was, discounting earlier fears that Mrs. Brown may have been suffering from memory loss and had become disoriented. Grace Brown's disappearance coincided with the theft of Arleeta Collins's car, a blue Honda, from the United Christian Methodist parking lot. Mrs. Collins, you may recall, is Reverend Brown's sister. The car was later found abandoned on Interstate 40. Mr. Brown confirmed that his wife borrowed the car without his sister's knowledge – "
Grace turned off the motel room's TV. Lord have mercy, now the whole congregation thinks I'm a car thief, on top of everything else. She could see Gladys Turner's pitched mouth and Elsie Boucher shaking her head in disapproval. Busybodies, the both of them.
But what troubled Grace most was that Ed told the police she suffered from memory loss. May have become disoriented. All the times he let on like her forgetfulness weren't nothing, dismissed her fears and made her feel foolish for worrying, he'd been pretending. Why?
The answer came at her broadside. Denial. I did the same thing to Papa when his mind began to slip. I tried to protect him. I covered for him, pretended he was all right, hoping to make it true. It tore her inside-out to see her papa, the man she looked up to, cherished and drew strength from, deteriorate before her eyes.
Eddy told her more than once she was his rock, how he couldn't do the things Jesus expected of him without her by his side. How would he cope if something happened to her?
"Oh, Eddy, I've been so blind."
Grace sat on the edge of the bed and thanked the Lord for opening her eyes. She asked Him to forgive her shortsightedness. She prayed for guidance in purging her self-centered ways. She thanked Him for her loving husband's devotion and prayed for the chance to make things right at home. And please, Lord, if it be your will, no more break-downs or kidnappings or shooting. These things I pray in Jesus' name, amen.
Grace felt lighter for having her burden lifted. She went out to let Ray know the police weren't looking for her anymore.
She found him reclined in the sidecar, legs up, head tipped back, staring at the night sky. He made getting comfortable in the casket-shaped appendage look easier than she knew it to be. A body should have more than a few inches between the road and their backside. And if mechanic Andy hadn't been there to catch her when she tried to climb out the first time, she would have tumbled onto her head. She weren't ungrateful, but riding in a sidecar would take some gettin' used to.
After giving Ray the news update, she asked, "Still can't sleep?"
"Last time I fell asleep, my son almost drowned." He drew in a breath full of weariness. "Time before that, my wife died."
Grace didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound trite or condescending, so she let it be. "Mind if I have a sit-down?"
He patted the Harley's broad, curved seat. She stepped onto the chrome floorboard and hefted herself up. The seat cupped her bottom like a padded saddle. "I'll trade you," she said.
Ray gave a commiserating smile. "Ever driven a motorcycle?"
"Never been on one 'til now." She grasped the handlebar grips and leaned forward, pretending to race into the wind. "How do I look?"
"Like Marlon Brando."
"Hah." Grace sat up. "Think we're doing the right thing?"
"Probably not. Don't seem to be any turning back, though."
Then he told her about the plans he and Virginia made, and Grace understood why he spent Johnny's money.
"She talked to me," Ray said, "back in Santa Fe." He looked at her like he expected her to scoff at him. "That's how I knew Benny was in the pool."
Grace nodded. "Her spirit rides with you."
"I'd rather have her." His admission broke Grace's heart. He drew his gaze back up to the stars and asked, "How do you do it? How do you get over losing the people you love?"
"Faith."
Ray shook his head. "I don't believe in a god that would let people die before their time. Gin was only fifty-seven."
Grace acknowledged his feelings. "I was fifteen when they told us my brother Joe had been killed in Korea." She could still see the will to live drain from Papa's body at the news. "Grandma James wanted me to go to church with her and pray for Joe's soul. I told her I wasn't prayin' to no god that would take my brother from me. I told her I hated God."
"What did she do?"
"Slapped my sassy mouth. She never struck me before. It scared me so bad, I went to church with her."
"Did it help?"
"No, sir. I sat in that pew with a sour face the whole time, hating God for pilin' more misery on me. It wasn't until years later, after Papa died and I met Ed, I figured it out. God never promised life would be fair. But He does promise that when we're confronted with hardship, we'll find the strength to endure, long as we have faith."
Ray seemed to give her words some thought before stating, "The only thing I have faith in is that boy." He pointed his chin at the hotel room door where Benny lay sleeping.
Ed might have tried to change his mind, convince him to let God in. But that was Ed's way, not hers. Grace knew by the look on Ray's face he would reject anything that smacked of preaching. Just as she and Papa did at Joe's death.
It wasn't Ray's faith in God that needed worked on. Grief had robbed him of faith in himself.