Mr. Houseman was looking at the floor. She saw an almost imperceptible shake of his head. His mouth was downturned. Miss Adree asked, “How many we got to feed?”
“We’re thinking between two and five hundred. I can let you know the exact count nearer the date,” April said.
“Ooooo weeee,” a voice in the crowd exclaimed. Some people laughed.
“These would be volunteers for exactly what?” Mr. Thornton, one of the town council members, asked with a look of confusion on his face.
As April started to devise an answer, the doors in the back of the building opened quietly and in walked Bull. Behind him was his gang of leather-wearing friends.
There went her generic description with all her whitewashed statistics. She had almost had it in the bag. As she looked over her shoulder, she saw a huge smile covering Mr. Houseman’s face.
“Well, thank goodness. The visitors I invited today are here. And just in time,” he said. “April seems to need a little help with explaining the kind of assistance we need for the fundraiser.”
April knew her mouth was agape, so she closed it. This wasn’t the way she wanted to see Bull after their last meeting.
“Come on up here, boys,” he said. “And ma’am.”
The group apparently had put on their Sunday spikes. They were dressed to the hilt in their Harley garb.
“April was in the middle of telling our volunteers what you good folks are up to.”
Patch stepped up first, followed by Bull, Crank, Scooter, and a couple others. Mr. Houseman hugged Patch, and April could hear the loud slap of the hide on Patch’s back reverberate in her as she moved away from the lectern.
What must the people of the town be thinking? Some would probably be calling her father as soon as they could get a cell-phone signal outside the building. Mr. Houseman said, “This is Patch Evans, Ben’s grandfather. Patch, why don’t you tell these people what we need?”
April glanced next to her. Bull was standing so close she felt the brush of his denim shirt, and it sent an electric spark to her core. Patch stepped to the lectern and lowered his head. Moments passed without a word, and then finally he reached up to brush something off his face and backed away shaking his head.
She had to do something, so she walked to the front of the stage, looked back, and said, “I can handle it from here.”
“Bikers for Ben is projecting to raise between ten and twenty thousand dollars. Maybe more.” She explained everything in super detail—kind of like she’d approach a statistical report at work—numbers, descriptions, projections.
The entire building clapped. Some people stood, and others whispered to one another. April wondered what they were saying, but she continued. She had to be brave. For Ben’s sake and to show Bull. She didn’t want him thinking that she was incompetent.
“The bikers are the volunteers we need you to provide lunch for on the Sunday of the rally. They’ll be giving rides on the square and taking additional sponsorships for Ben. Right after, they’ll be taking off for the Battery in downtown Charleston.”
Mr. Baker stood. “I’ll donate four of the pigs from my farm. If I had some help, we could do a barbecue.”
Several of the men in the back raised their hands and someone said, “Count me in.”
Miss Ethel stood and said, “My women’s quilting group can make coleslaw and hash and rice.”
“I’ll donate the rolls from my bakery,” said Mr. Putney.
Then, Aiken Hughes, the founder of the Summerbrook Humanity Project and a very well-respected builder and businessman in the area, stood. “Anything you need Hughes Construction to provide or build—tables, platforms, fencing—we will.” Charlene Timmons, her condo neighbor, smiled tenderly at him. He’d just made big points with her. April could tell.
She glanced over the audience again. They were the same people she’d known since she was a little girl. And they were all volunteering like it was a cakewalk for some Sunday school charity. She inhaled deeply and felt the air clear the tension she’d brought in with her.
Patch walked back to the lectern and choked out a few words. “I can’t thank you enough.” He lowered his head again and went to stand with the others.
The room was silent. April returned to her spot beside Bull. She’d done the only thing she could do.
“I want to thank all of you,” Mr. Houseman said.
Bull grabbed one of her hands and Patch the other. She felt pity flow from her and connect to Patch’s fingers, but what she felt gushing in Bull’s direction was indescribable. She had never experienced anything like it before. Not ever. It was as if her heart had opened up and its soft, secret contents were coursing toward Bull.
She lifted her head and glanced next to her again. Her head hurt with it all.
Patch let go of her hand. But Bull didn’t. They were still fastened together physically and in some other way she couldn’t quite understand. And in front of everyone at that.
“These good people standing here are my friends. No matter what, when one of us is in need, we gather together. I can think of no better song for us today than the song April played earlier, ‘That’s What Friends Are For.’ April, could you give us a few more verses?” Mr. Housman asked.
Miss Adree’s face beamed with pride.
April saw the affection and satisfaction in Mr. Houseman as he hugged Patch and Crank.
Mr. Houseman turned to April again. “April?”
Her accordion playing had been on the down low. Only Miss Adree and the regulars at the Humanity Project knew her geeky secret. Now her secret would get out beyond the walls of the project people. All of April’s good intentions were flying up and hitting her in the face this afternoon, like a flock of feeding buzzards that had been disturbed by speeding choppers.
She pulled her hand from Bull. Now he was smiling or smirking at her. He probably thought she was a geek, too. No time to think about it right now, though. She had to perform. She lifted the ungainly contraption from off the stage and put her arm through the strap. Bull wore an even bigger grin now. There was nothing to do but play.
Air filled the bellowing instrument and her fingers moved over the keys. Her humiliation was complete. The bikers thought she was an accordion-playing nerd and the audience thought she was a certified motorcycle mama. In truth, she was neither. She was only trying to do the right thing. For her father. For Ben. And for herself.
She played “That’s What Friends Are For” once again, and all the while she kept repeating two words in the song—“Keep smiling. Keep smiling.”
Why was this so hard?
Chapter Seven
Bull listened as Bertie Houseman asked if there were any more announcements. His wife raised her hand.
Miss Velma stood. “Ladies, don’t forget about the Humanity Project’s Annual Tea Party next Sunday. We’ve got a prize for the fanciest hat and some fun things in store.”
Mr. Houseman smiled at his wife and dismissed the dedication ceremony. As soon as he did, April headed out of the building like it was on fire.
He had to get to her. Fast. Something perplexing had happened. His emotions were roaring inside.
He wasn’t expecting the reception they’d received from the crowd. He assumed these people would be like the ones his mother had encountered at that hoity-toity group of women. Like the people who didn’t help them when Adam was so sick. They weren’t, though, and April was a part of them. Helping them to build homes for poor, disadvantaged, and disabled people. People like his family used to be.
Bull snaked his way through the crowd of people and out the door.
April could have already been with those other snooty young ladies, but, instead, she was working with these Humanity Project people. And him.
He didn’t have her or this town as pegged as he thought, but he had a plan. A plan to get to know who she really was. And it had nothing to do with the actual rally.
He was going to ask April on a date.
Wh
ether or not she’d accept was a completely different story.
…
April had to get away fast—to figure things out. Everything was all confused.
The sun burst upon her face as she exited the door. Maybe the fresh air would clear things up. Her mind tumbled.
And the most confusing of all was Bull. How he’d made her feel when he’d held her hand. Then right after that he sort of grinned at her when he saw her go for her accordion. One minute he was trying to kiss her and the next he was making fun of her. What’s going on?
She was doing the same, though. One minute she was trying to resist what she needed to do for the rally and the next she was embracing it. Like she had just done.
No sooner had she inserted her key in the car’s door, a man put his hand on it to prevent her from getting in. It was Bull. He must have been following her, but she had been oblivious in her attempts to escape.
“What’s the emergency?” he asked. “You got an accordion concert to play somewhere?”
“I’ve got to go,” she said.
“I thought you said that accordion was some old woman’s?”
“It was. It is. You wouldn’t understand,” she said, turning to open the door again.
“Try me. My grandfather used to play an unconventional instrument, too. A harmonica. Played in a band with two other guys. One played a banjo, and the other played an accordion, like yours,” he said. “The only one in the family interested in learning the harmonica was Adam, my little brother. We used to listen to our grandfather’s band practice after we got home from school. But after they both died…”
She turned to face him again.
He looked from side to side, then at her. “Anyway, it makes me smile every time I hear one of those old instruments. I think of the two of them.”
She had thought that he was smiling sarcastically at her a while ago when she played. Also at the steakhouse when he saw the accordion on her backseat.
Wait. Maybe he would understand why April played after all. Her accordion wasn’t merely an instrument.
There was way more to this man than she’d first imagined. It was all too much for her after her act of bravery or stupidity or whatever it was in the building a few moments ago.
“I really do have to go,” she said. She wasn’t going to let him see tears spill from her eyes from the release of having to address the volunteers. Or from being drawn to him like a fish to a lure. None of this was going according to plan.
His lawless hair gleamed in the sun. He pushed the sides behind his ears. “Before you do, I wanted to tell you that in there…it wasn’t so bad.” His low, course voice ran through her.
He couldn’t possibly know how difficult it was for her in there.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like that. Since Adam died to be exact. But those people weren’t like I thought they’d be,” he said.
She was confused again. He was talking about himself. He was moved by what had gone on.
“I wanted to tell you about how difficult things were for me when Adam died, but I couldn’t. This whole thing with Ben is hard for me. Hospitals and crowds are hard for me,” he said.
Well, that made two of them. She hadn’t considered that before—that working on the fundraiser was hard for him. Maybe because she’d always been so focused on her own feelings.
He and Patch and the rest had seemed to be moved. And she thought she’d had all the motorcycle people figured out. She’d had nothing figured out.
“I’m so sorry. About your brother, that is,” she said. She could tell from the way he talked about Adam at the library that it was a particularly difficult subject for him. She placed a hand on his arm. What she wanted to do was to put her arms around his neck and pull him close. “Are you okay?”
He touched her hand. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Crank walked up to them. “It’s in your saddlebag, Bull. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’ll get it there,” Bull said. “See ya.” He put up his hand to say good-bye as Crank walked away.
Bull turned to her. “By the way, I was wondering if you could help me next Saturday,” he said. “Crank is going to be busy that day, so he gave me that Harley bomber jacket Scooter donated. He wants me to get it to that silent charity auction for Ben. It’s at some place called the Oaks Country Club. You know where that’s located?”
“Of course. I’ve been there many times,” she said.
“Well, I haven’t. I know I won’t know anyone there, and I was thinking that you might go—that is if you won’t mind being seen with me.” He smiled.
Was that a part of the problem? Or was it really all about protecting her safety—and her father’s health? Even if she did mind going with him, she couldn’t tell him that. It wasn’t right for her to even think like that.
His eyes smiled at her, along with his sexy, masculine lips. She wasn’t safe around Bull at all. He dissolved her. Turn away. Turn away. Turn away.
But she didn’t want to turn away. She was going to have to deal with the whole safety thing later, because she couldn’t seem to refuse an invitation to look into his enchanting eyes some more. “Yes, I’ll go.”
“Then it’s a date,” he said.
It thrilled her to hear those words. She had a date with him. A real date. Not simply an impromptu kiss in a parking lot. She was actually dating a biker. This was getting super complicated, but she wasn’t ready to analyze it yet. All she wanted to do was to give in to him. To kiss him again. Even though it could never end well—she’d never put her father through all the old trauma. Moreover, she’d never ride with Bull on his bike. And he’d already said that was a requirement for any woman he’d ever be with. That made things simple.
She’d simply never be with him. Not beyond the rally. A string in her heart strummed a single melancholy note that reverberated through her body.
…
When April got home from work the next day, she called Jenna.
“How about dinner tonight? I’ll pay,” April said.
In addition to being conservative, Jenna was cheap. April knew her friend couldn’t say no.
“Well…” Jenna dragged out the word in an attempt to hesitate. “I guess I can.”
“Meet me at Oscars in twenty minutes,” April said. She had a plan that might mitigate Saturday night.
April got out at the restaurant. The evening had mild hints of spring in the light breezes. The palmettos and palms that lined the road by the restaurant’s sign had grown crooked and their fronds bent gracefully over the parking lot. Not wanting to miss a moment of the pleasantness in the air, she waited for her friend at the fern-lined entrance.
When Jenna arrived, they exchanged air kisses and went inside.
“We’d like a table on the porch,” April said.
After they were seated, they looked at their menus. When the waitress arrived with their bread, Jenna spoke up. “I’ll take sweet tea and the pee-teet shrimp and grits. She will, too,” she said.
“She means the small portion.” April hesitated. “Ummmm. I don’t know. Let me see. I think I’ll try something different tonight. How are your chimichangas?”
“Chimi-what?” Jenna protested. “What’s gotten into you, girl? We’ve never ordered anything other than shrimp and grits here. It’s our fave, remember?”
The waitress stopped writing and put a hand on her hip.
“That’s what I want. Chimichangas,” April said. “And sweet tea.” She closed the menu.
The waitress walked away and Jenna looked at April like her eyes were going to pop out.
“What is going on with you?” Jenna sat back, stared straight into her face, and crossed her arms.
“I’m helping a little boy who’s dying. That’s what. I’d do anything for him,” April said, and she meant it.
“He didn’t look good when I saw him last, but I didn’t know it was that serious,” Jenna said.
“He’s very sick
,” April said.
Jenna reached for April’s hands. “I know how important he is to you.”
When the waitress came with their tea, they pulled their hands back. The woman placed the glasses on palm green napkins on top of the matching tablecloth. “Your orders will be right up.”
“May we have some extra napkins?” Jenna asked.
The waitress reached into her apron, dropped several on the table, and left.
“Well, isn’t there something else you can do to help? I saw an advertisement in the Summerbrook Gazette that there’s going to be a silent charity auction for Ben. And the ladies at the league are putting on a golf tournament. By the looks of things, I guess you’ve given up on joining the Ladies League now.”
April ignored Jenna’s last comment. “That’s just it. I’m going to help with as many things as I can. This biker fundraiser is the event that will make the most money for Ben, and I can’t get out.” She folded her napkin. “I shouldn’t get out. Dealing with all the motorcycles and the reminders of the accident is the most emotionally taxing thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I know it’s what I need to do. And I wanted to meet you here tonight to ask for your help.”
“There is no way I’m helping with anything with a motorcycle gang.”
“They are not a gang.” It was merely a few days ago that she thought they were a gang as well. “I want you to go to the silent auction at the Oaks next Saturday. To be there for moral support for me and for Ben.”
“Well, that’s easy enough. I had already planned to. My boss asked me to be there. We donated some things from the dress shop—some really nice jewelry and bags and accessories,” Jenna said.
April knew Jenna would have given in. Shop or no shop. In the end, Jenna was always there for her.
The waitress brought their orders. Jenna’s meal lay in her bowl—all white and creamy and soft. And April’s steamed and sizzled on a cast-iron skillet plate. Steamed and sizzled like her insides did around Bull.
Bikers and Pearls Page 11
