Dream & Dare (15 page)

Hoosier tensed and pulled his hand from hers. He moved, turning in the bed, toward her—and then he did something amazing. He cupped her face with his hand, his thumb over her cheekbone and his fingers on her neck, under her ear. The look he gave her required no words. It was an essay, a treatise, a novel’s worth of meaning.

Bibi put her hand over his and pressed it to her face. “No, Hooj. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry I made us think about that. I only meant…I don’t know what I meant. But don’t think about that. It’s not important. The three of us, we were complete. We were
enough
.”

His head moved then, a rickety, rusty, hesitant swivel from side to side. After he got the hang of it, he moved more quickly. Shaking his head, emphatically telling her ‘no.’

And she knew exactly what he was saying.

NINE

Bibi eased back into bed and settled on her pillows with a sigh. Hoosier was sleeping with his back to her; when she’d gotten up, they’d been spooning, so he’d rolled over while she was in the bathroom.

“You okay, Mama?”

“I’m fine.” She sniffed and sighed again. “Just crampy.”

He rolled back, his eyes open and shining in the faint light of the early morning. “Crampy?”

“Yeah. I started.” Her voice broke on the last word.

“Oh, Cheeks. I’m sorry.” Hoosier pulled her close, and she wrapped herself around him. She’d cried for just a second in the bathroom, but not now; she was getting used to this monthly disappointment. And she didn’t have time to fall apart, anyway. But, sheltered in her man’s strong arms, she let herself be sad for a while.

Connor was four, and he was still an only child. They’d planned to have another when he was about two, but then the club had hit a rough spell, and Hoosier had gone a while without earning anything like he’d been. Bibi had started up her makeup business again and, for several months, had even taken a part-time retail job at the mall.

They hadn’t been as careful about money before that as they should have been, and they’d had no safety net. For more than a year, they’d struggled to keep things going. They’d struggled with each other, too. Hoosier had not dealt well with being unable to keep his family comfortable on his own, and, though Bibi had worked hard not to put any pressure on him, she’d paid a little for the pressure he put on himself.

And so they’d set aside plans to grow their family. They’d focused on their little boy.

But now, the Blades were earning more than they ever had. A lot more. So much more that Hoosier was literally burying stacks of money under the floorboards of their house. Bibi knew that could only mean that the club was more outlaw than before—lawful people didn’t get paid in ten-thousand-dollar banded stacks of bills, and even if they might have, they generally put their earnings in the Bank of America, not the Back of the Closet.

But she didn’t ask. She’d known Hoosier wasn’t just a mechanic when she’d married him, and she knew he’d tell her what she needed to know. She trusted him, she loved him, and they were happy. They had a good home and a good family, and it was secure now. That was all she needed.

Except, now that they were secure again, she wanted more babies.

They’d been trying for six months. Trying with even more than their usual healthy enthusiasm for sex. But Connor’s fourth birthday had come and gone, and she was still not pregnant.

With her face nuzzled on Hoosier’s chest, Bibi muttered, “Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

“Hush, Beebs. It hasn’t been that long. You didn’t catch with Connor right away, either. The doc said not to worry until it’s been a whole year, right?”

She nodded, her nose brushing through the soft hair over his pecs. “But I’m running out of time. I wanted a houseful.” She was getting older; they’d been married ten years, and it had taken her half those years to figure out what she wanted. Their future no longer seemed infinite.

His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest and ruffled her hair as he kissed her head. “I don’t think your AARP card is comin’ anytime soon, baby. You got lots of time left. In the meantime, we got our boy, and he might not be a houseful, but he’s damn sure a handful.”

At that, Bibi was able to laugh. Yes, their boy was a handful. And a half. It was like he was made out of pure energy. He simply could not be still. He was smart as a whip, too, and it got him into no end of trouble. He was always taking something apart, or just outright breaking it open to see what was inside it. He’d be sitting there, all sweet, watching television or maybe eating his lunch, and something would catch his eye. He’d get a look, and they knew if they didn’t figure out his target and get it out of his reach, they’d be replacing it by the end of the day.

And lord, that boy got bored fast. He couldn’t even manage to sit through a whole Disney video. Already, at four, he’d picked up and discarded a score of interests. There was only one thing that held his attention for any length of time, in the short or long term: helping his daddy work on cars and bikes. He loved the tools, and he loved watching, helping, learning. He hadn’t even started kindergarten yet, but he understood engines better than Bibi did.

Honestly, Bibi didn’t think it was the engines Connor was so enamored of. It was his father. If Hoosier had been a stockbroker, Connor would have been fascinated by the Dow. He thought his daddy hung the sun.

“He’s gonna be up soon,” Hoosier reminded her.
 

“I know. And you’re goin’ in this mornin’, right?”

“Yeah. Just in the garage today. Thought I’d take Connor in with me. Give you a day to yourself.”

She leaned back and looked up at him. “Yeah?” A day to herself—those were rare indeed. Every now and then, Margot would take Connor, but his perpetual motion was a lot to deal with, and Bibi felt guilty, so she didn’t ask, or accept an offer, often.

But the garage? It wouldn’t be the first time, but it never made Bibi happy. The garage was owned by the Blades. And except for Blue, she didn’t much like his brothers. Besides, the club was doing things she thought must be pretty bad. “You sure?”

“Sure. He loves it. And it’ll be quiet today. Promise.”

“Haven’t been many quiet days for you lately, huh?”

Hoosier didn’t answer. He just kissed her head again and squeezed her close. With his hand rubbing her lower back, where he knew she felt her cramps, he finally murmured, “Why don’t you get in a hot shower, and I’ll make his breakfast this morning. I’ll do waffles and fruit.”

She laughed and kissed his furry cheek. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of years, and oh stars, she loved his beard. “Eggos ain’t waffles, Hooj.”

“Sure they are. They got the little squares.
And
it says ‘waffles’ on the box. That makes it so.”

“I love you, Hooj.” She reached up and tugged at his beard.

“I love you better.”

~oOo~

In the shower, Bibi let the hot water spray over her lower back for a long time. She let the conditioner sit in her hair for a while, and soaped herself up twice. She shaved everything. It was nice. Usually, she barely took the time to get all her parts wet, so letting herself relax and enjoy the warm spray helped realign her outlook. Hoosier was right. It had taken four months to get pregnant with Connor. It wasn’t so much longer now. It would happen.

Having no interest in frozen waffles for breakfast, Bibi took her time with her after-shower routine, too. She used the jasmine-scented lotion that Hoosier liked, and she even dried her hair.

For most of her life, she’d kept her hair about shoulder-length or a little shorter, in a variety of styles—from the sweet Dorothy of her teen years to the violent spikes of her punk phase. She hadn’t had an actual hairstyle in four years, though, and now her hair was halfway down her back. Every couple of months, she’d trim her own ends, but that was it.

With Connor, it was just too much work to do anything at all with her hair. So she’d hose herself off and then yank the wet mass back in a hair elastic. She wore a ponytail every single day.

There was a time in her life when she would have been judgmental about a woman who took so little care with her personal grooming. Never would she again, however. These days, she saw a woman in the market with a skewed pony and stained sweats, and she nodded in sympathetic sisterhood.

Today, though. Today, she smelled good, and she wasn’t furry, and her hair was shiny and fluffy. She even took a minute to do her face up. Then she went into her closet and picked out an actual outfit. That matched.

She didn’t even think she was going to leave the house; the thought of having the place completely to herself, maybe sitting outside with a Mary Higgins Clark book and a glass of sweet tea and just reading the day away, was enough to make her well up with joy. But it felt good to be pretty, especially on a day that had started out like shit.

She’d picked out white jeans. It was a day to stick her middle finger up at her body and its cycle.

By the time she was selecting jewelry to go with her outfit, she knew that breakfast was over. She could hear Connor banging away at the old upright piano in the living room. He must have been sitting with Hoosier; under the percussive din, she could hear a few keys being struck tunefully.

When they’d bought this house, the piano had come with it, because no one could get it out of the room. The previous owners had taken what had been one large space that was both living and dining rooms and made it into two, building a wall to separate them. The piano had already been in the room, and they’d closed off the only way to move it out without tearing it apart.

It was a big, heavy, beautiful upright, and it turned out that both Bibi and Hoosier had played as children, something they hadn’t known about each other until they’d found themselves the owners of a piano. They’d spent many nights plinking around on it together.

Connor was fascinated by the old thing. Bibi had an idea that she’d like him to learn, and she’d spent a few afternoons trying to teach him some basics. But no. Not yet, anyway. Not unless she duct-taped him to the seat. Learning to play an instrument took focus and patience, and their boy had neither.

She went out to the living room and found Connor sitting on his daddy’s lap, banging away. For a minute, she leaned on the door jamb and watched. God, she loved those boys. The emotion slammed into her, leaving her breathless.

“Try this, Con. Here, put your finger here.”

“Play the song, Daddy!”

“I’m trying to show
you
how to play.”

“No! You play! You play good!”

Hoosier laughed and played the first notes of ‘Thunder Road.’ He was a big Springsteen buff, and that song was a particular favorite. “See how pretty? You try.”

Connor banged his open hands on the keys. “Music!”

“Your mama’d say so. She likes noisy music. I like music where the notes go together. Here, sit next to me and listen.” He shifted Connor to his side on the bench and started to play the song again from the beginning. Connor sat and watched for several whole seconds, but he was on the floor at his father’s feet, playing with the pedals, trying to see where they connected inside the piano, before Hoosier had finished singing the first verse.

Then Connor saw his mother. He scrambled to his feet and ran to her. “Mama! Daddy’s makin’ music but when it’s over we’re gonna go work on engines!”

Hoosier stopped playing and singing and looked over at her with a smile. Bibi picked her boy up. “Oof, you’re heavy, Mr. Man. Growin’ up fast. You’re gonna be a big help today, aren’t ya?”

“Yeah, I’m a helper!” He gave her a huge grin, his grey eyes—her father’s eyes—sparkling at her.

“That’s my good boy. Since you’re bein’ so helpful, maybe I’ll bake a cake today and we can have it for dessert after supper.”