The Pastor's Wife Wears Biker Boots (3 page)

He came out of his office reading a book and spoke without looking up. I often wondered how he didn’t fall over the railing.

“Where are you going?”

“Reba’s meeting me at the Harley dealership with Lily and Opal.”

“Are you serious?” He was looking at me now.

“Yes. I told you, remember?”

Apparently he didn’t. As usual he was reading a book or studying and hadn’t heard what I said. I kept walking toward the door.

“Watch the boys, please. There’s a marathon showing of
Cops
on TV this afternoon. Just turn that on, and Timmy will be OK until I get back. But could you please bring your stuff down here to study? I’d feel better.”

Aaron stared at me with wrinkly bulldog eyes as he started toward his office. I gathered my purse and waited until everyone was in the living room. As I opened the door, Patrick said, “Don’t worry, Dad, Mom won’t be able to pass the test, and then she can forget this motorcycle insanity.”

Aaron and Danny chuckled above the
Cops
theme song playing in the background.

I set my chin and closed the door firmly. I could still hear them laughing as I jumped down the porch steps, two at a time.

I picked up Lily at her farmhouse and drove to the Harley dealership. Her cheerful banter made me jittery.

“Oh, Kirsten, you’re going to love riding. I have such fond memories of riding with Milo when he was younger. If only that old-timer’s disease hadn’t gotten him. I miss those days.” Lily sighed and looked out the window.

Autism was my enemy. Alzheimer’s was Lily’s.

“I bet you made some wonderful memories.” I kept my eyes on the road and my voice steady. It was difficult seeing Milo fade into someone we no longer knew.

“There are some disadvantages of marrying someone so much older. But I don’t regret it. Milo was a wonderful husband. He still would be if he weren’t ill. One of my fondest memories is when we rode to Mackinac Island on the back of his Goldwing before the kids were born.”

“I’ve always wanted to go there. Isn’t it romantic? I’ve seen pictures. And of course, watched that romantic movie that featured the island.” I stopped the car at a red light on the edge of town.

“Oh, yes. We stayed at the Grand Hotel. We had to leave our motorcycles across the lake, though. They aren’t allowed on the island.” Lily stared out the window. “But that was long ago, and then life happened—raising kids, farming, and me working at the hospital as a nurse. Life got too busy. We never did get around to going again.”

We drove out of Eel Falls and thirty more miles to the nearest Harley dealership in Pike Creek. I felt my pulse beating in my eyelids. I didn’t want my life to get so busy I forgot to do the romantic, fun things.

“Did you go to the bank?” Reba nudged me with her elbow when we met her in the parking lot.

“Yup. But I feel guilty.”

“Don’t you dare.” Reba glared at me and planted her hands on her hips. “Your Aunt Mary gave you that money to do with what you will. Besides, didn’t you tell me she was a free spirit like me and rode a motorcycle back when only bad girls rode motorcycles?”

I nodded. My great-aunt Mary not only rode motorcycles, she raced them.

“She’d prefer I buy an Indian, though.” I glanced at Reba sideways and she snorted.

“Well, there aren’t any Indian dealerships closer than a hundred miles, so you’re stuck with a Harley.” She hooked her arm into mine, and we marched toward the front door of the dealership.

“Or a Honda.” Lily smiled. She loved her old purple Magnum.

Reba grunted. “Honda. Right.” According to Reba, a motorcycle wasn’t a motorcycle unless it was a Harley. She gave Trace a hard time about his Goldwing. “I’m just teasin’.” She pushed at Lily playfully. They were distant cousins and had grown up together like sisters.

“You’re sure quiet, Opal.” Lily plunked her arm around her old pal and gave her a squeeze.

“I’m having second thoughts,” she said. “I think I’m getting too old.”

“To be ridin’?”

“No, Lily, to get married. Of course to be ridin’.” Opal glared and Lily laughed.

“You never know what you’ll find on the back of a motorcycle, Opal.” Reba raised her eyebrows up and down and wiggled her glasses like Groucho Marx. “You’ve spent way too much time behind a desk. Time to live a little.”

“I didn’t retire from being a school secretary to get killed. I just came along to give Kirstie moral support. It’s my duty as the volunteer church secretary. I’m just doing my job.” Opal sniffed, put her nose in the air and clip-clopped to the door in her sensible shoes.

The four of us entered through the front door of the Harley shop and onto the showroom floor. The bell jangled as the door closed, and I flinched.

“Gracious, you’re jumpy. What gives?” Reba rolled her eyes and shook her head.

We proceeded to look at the gleaming bikes, but every time the bell on the door clanged, I’d jump and look to see who it was. I didn’t want to have to explain my dream to church folks. Not yet.

“Good grief, woman, you’re not in a liquor store or porn shop. You’re gonna make me nervous enough to need a smoke.” Reba smacked me on the back of the head playfully.

“Ouch! I know that. But some people might wonder how I got the money to buy a motorcycle.” I rubbed the back of my head.

“It’s none of their business.” Lily grabbed my arm. “You’ve got to stop worrying so much about what other people think.”

“That’s not a luxury I have, Lily, and you know it.” I removed my arm from her grip. “Everything I do affects my husband’s job and our family’s future. I have to be careful.”

“Well, I sure couldn’t do it.” Reba rocked back on her Harley boots with her hands in her pockets. “I
wouldn’t
do it. Living in a fishbowl would be too confining for me. I’d drown.”

“Who says it’s not too confining for me? Why do you think I’m here?”

“Thatta girl. Now, let’s get to lookin’…”

“May I help you ladies?” A middle-aged man with graying shoulder-length hair and neatly trimmed beard reached his hand out to Reba, who smiled and gave him a big bear hug. “Reba! Man, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. Where you been?”

Opal and I looked at each other.

“Same place. I haven’t moved.”

Reba and the salesman caught up on old times and Lily, Opal, and I walked through row after row of lustrous motorcycles. Their radiant colors and chrome were delicious eye-candy for my hungry-for-adventure soul. I thought I could see my heart racing through my T-shirt in its reflection on the gas tanks.

“Find one you like?”

The voice made me jump.

“Sorry about that.” Reba’s friend approached. “Didn’t mean to scare ya. My name’s Rocky. Let me know if I can help ya any.”

“Thanks. I’m Kirsten, and a little nervous about buying my first motorcycle.” I shook his hand and tried to give him a confident smile, but I think “novice” blinked in glowing neon colors on my forehead.

“Been ridin’ long?”

“No, I haven’t actually ridden yet. I mean, by myself. I used to ride behind my great-aunt on her Indian. And I’m signed up to take motorcycle safety classes next week.”

Rocky nodded. “That’s good. Do you have a particular bike in mind?”

“Find her one she can flat-foot, Rocky.” Reba was good at giving orders.

“Flat-foot?” Opal asked.

“Yeah, plant your feet flat on the ground. Safer that way. If the bike’s too tall, she’ll be too heavy to hold up, and you’re more likely to drop her.”

I nodded. If I was going to plunk down this much cash, I sure didn’t want to be dropping my bike.

“See this white one over here?” Rocky walked over to a pearl-white Sportster, and we all followed like little ducks after their mama. “Lady-rider owned, garaged, seat’s been lowered. Give it a sit and see how she feels.”

Hope filled my heart on several levels. I hoped I could own a bike as pretty as this one. I also hoped he would turn around in case I couldn’t get my leg over the bike. The capris I had on were too snug. I wished I hadn’t had that second helping of pasta the night before.

I handed my oversized handbag to Opal and praised God that Reba kept Rocky occupied with stories of yesteryear. I counted to three, jacked my leg up as far as I could, and cleared the sissy bar. Barely.

I recognized the sound of seams ripping.

“So? Whadda ya think?” Reba looked at me and gave me a toothy grin.

“Nice.” I tried to sound like I knew what I was talking about, but to be honest, I had no idea how it was supposed to feel. I was too out of breath from getting on, and had just ripped my capris all the way up the back.

“Could use some forward controls, but looks like she fits you pretty well.” Rocky walked around the bike and checked out my height and the way my feet hit the floor and then rested on the pegs. I pulled my shirt down and shifted in my seat.

“I’d let you drive her, but you don’t have your license or permit yet…”

“What about that one over there?” I pointed to a fully dressed Road King, shimmering in burgundy metal flake. I needed him to look the other way while I devised a launch off the Sportster.

“Might be a bit too much bike for a beginner. But you’re not a petite girl, so you might be able to handle it.” My eyes instinctively widened, and I looked at Lily and tried not to laugh.

I attempted to slingshot myself off quickly, but my foot got stuck and I had to wrench it across the seat. Opal stood behind me stifling a laugh. I swallowed my pride the best I could while trying to catch my breath.

“How much is this one?” I asked. My voice croaked in a whisper. Reba looked at me and held her hands out and mouthed, “What’s wrong?” I gave her a crooked smile. I could hear Opal choking back laughter behind me.

“It’s got fifteen thousand miles on it. I’d say, oh, $12K.” Rocky nodded, stuck out his lower lip, and hid his hands behind his back.

“Hogwash,” Reba said. “You keep quiet, Kirsten, and let me handle the negotiating.”

Reba took Rocky by the arm and whispered something to him that made him throw back his head and laugh. They walked arm and arm into the sales office leaving Lily, Opal, and me with the tempting bikes in the showroom.

The bell on the front door rang again. I jumped and turned to see who had walked in.

Aaron and the boys stood grinning inside the door.

5

“What are you doing here?”

I walked toward Aaron and the boys, and Opal handed me her jacket. I wrapped it around my waist to hide the gaping hole in my capris.

“We talked and decided we needed to be here for you. It’s a big day.” Aaron opened his arms, and I slid into the cuddle-spot where I fit exactly right.

“Really?” I smiled up at him, admiring his kind and noble features.

Opal and Lily walked to the boot section of the store to give us some space.

I looked into Aaron’s eyes. When would I learn he wasn’t like the mother who abandoned my father and me? Aaron hadn’t let me down before. How could I think he wouldn’t be there for me now?

“Oh, Aaron, boys, this means so much to me.” I gathered them into my arms for a big group hug. But not for long.

Timmy struggled free and went skipping down the aisle, clapping and flapping and singing “Born to be Wild.”

“Where’d he learn that?” I looked up at Aaron with raised eyebrows.

Daniel chased after Timmy.

“We sang it in the car on the way over.” Aaron gave me a shy grin.

“Oh yeah?” I nudged him. “You think I’m wild, do you?”

“Just a little.” He held his hands wide apart like a fisherman showing me the size of a big trout he’d just caught.

I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “So, Patrick, you think Mom can ride after all, huh?” I tousled my moody son’s hair.

“I guess.” He shrugged. “As long as you take me with you, sometimes. And teach me to ride.”

“Deal.” I laughed.

“Which bike are you going to buy, Mom? I like this one.” Daniel pointed to a lustrous grape-colored trike. He pulled Timmy behind him by the sleeve of his jacket. Timmy, overwhelmed with the colors and the hum of the lights, flapped even harder.

“That one costs a lot more money than I have. I’m going to go with the white one over there. Well, that is, if Reba can get me a good deal on it.”

“Oh, really?” Aaron walked to the white Sportster and ran his hand over the fender. “It looks OK, I guess. Are you sure it’s what you want?”

“Well, it’s the only thing I can see in the shop in my price range,” I said. “And it fits me.”

“Where’s Reba now?” Aaron looked around the dealership.

“She’s in the office with Rocky, the sales guy. They’re working on a deal or something. I dunno. I sort of ripped my pants and didn’t pay much attention.”

Aaron threw his head back, laughed, and hugged me close. He knew how much I struggled with my weight. But he always assured me my size didn’t matter to him. I felt perfectly safe in his arms. Safe enough to tell him how embarrassed I was and know he would “get it.”

Aaron kissed the top of my forehead. “Let me go find Reba, and you and the boys go try on some boots.”

The boys and I walked over to the boot section.

Lily stood admiring herself in the mirror.

Opal struggled to lace a pair that looked adorable on her.

“I had a boyfriend once who rode a
motorsickle
.”

“You had a boyfriend, Opal? Back when there were dinosaurs?”

Opal looked up from lacing her size six boots and scowled at me. I never understood why such an attractive woman never married.

“Yes, Kirsten, back in the dinosaur days, my father made me promise not to ride on my boyfriend’s
motorsickle
and never speak with him. Boys who rode
motorsickles
were greasers, you know. He rode the sweetest looking Triumph.”

“Why, Opal.” Lily took a break from admiring her boots to holler. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re downright wistful about that motorcycle.”

“Greasers?” I asked.

My sons were admiring the boot display on the wall.

Timmy had already picked a pair he liked.

“Bad boys.” Opal finally stood up to test her laced-up boots. “I do declare, Kirsten, I like these. I might just get these and wear them to
motorsickle
class.”