Nolan: Return to Signal Bend

by Susan Fanetti

  ~oOo~

  She had handed Geoff—her new boss!—her completed application and taken the little red paper shopping bag holding her gift for Shannon before she’d realized that Rose had never shown up. When she left the shop, she found her older sister sitting in her little Subaru coupe across the street. She jumped off the boardwalk and trotted over.

  “Why didn’t you come in?” she asked as she sat in the passenger seat.

  “I wasn’t going in that creepy place. Mindy said that he keeps jars with dead animals floating in green goo in there.”

  Iris hadn’t seen anything like that. What she’d seen was quirky and a little edgy, not macabre. “No, he doesn’t. Mindy is a twat.”

  Rose eyed Iris’s red bag. “You bought something in there?”

  “Yeah. Shannon’s gift.” She pulled the frame out and unwrapped it from its tissue so she could show it off.

  “That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. You’re giving Shannon a dead butterfly for Christmas?”

  It was beautiful. And Iris felt good. She wasn’t going to let her sister ruin it, either. Without another word, she wrapped the frame carefully back in its pretty tissue and slid it into its bag.

  “Well, at least it’s not floating in green goo,” Rose muttered and started her car. “A dead bug for Shannon, and a rusted-out old sign for Daddy. You are one weird little chick, Irie.”

  A vintage 1920s Harley-Davidson showroom sign was not a ‘rusted-out old sign.’ Iris was not going to let her sister bring her down.

  ~oOo~

  At home later that afternoon, while Shannon and Millie were making supper, Rose was online with her boyfriend, and Joey was playing a racing game on the Xbox, Iris went out and crossed the big yard to her father’s garage.

  It was a huge thing and his favorite ‘room’ of the house. Aside from housing Shannon’s SUV, his truck, and two Harleys and an old Indian, the garage had a fourth bay that was walled off from the others and climate-controlled. He had a mancave set up in there, and he worked on whatever project bike he had going there as well.

  The overhead door was closed—not surprisingly, considering the temperature—so Iris went to the small door at the side and knocked.

  “Yeah!” he called, and she went in.

  He grinned when he saw her. “Hey, baby flower. Supper ready?”

  “No, not yet. I just wanted to hang out for a minute, if that’s okay.”

  “You know it is. Have a seat. Let me just get this fork tightened, and I’ll sit with you.”

  “Don’t stop. You know I like to watch.”

  Still grinning, he nodded and turned back to his work. “Grab yourself a beer and keep me company.”

  Iris sat on the tattered old plaid loveseat and leaned over to the little cube of a fridge for a beer. While she sipped at it, she watched her father work. They didn’t speak, and they didn’t need to. She really did enjoy watching him. He was doing something he loved, and she could see that he was perfectly content, thinking of nothing but the work, leaving outside this room any burdens he might be carrying.

  He was old, sixty-three at his last birthday, and his long hair and beard had gone grey, but she knew it was still mostly thick and full under his black beanie. He had been terribly hurt in another really horrible thing, one that she had been away from, and his body was scarred and often achy and stiff, but it was still a big, broad, strong body. He was like a mountain. He endured.

  When she finished her beer, she set the empty on top of the little fridge. “Daddy, can I talk to you?”

  He stood and came over, wiping his hands on a shop towel. “Sure, baby. Something weighing on your pretty head?”

  She waited until he’d sat at her side before she answered. “Nothing bad. Just…can I stay? Live here, I mean?”

  Though she was confident he wouldn’t deny her, she had expected some surprise. Her father wanted her and Rose to ‘live their dreams.’ When he talked about Daisy—something he rarely did, at least not with them—he always said that the hardest thing about losing her was knowing the she hadn’t gotten a chance to live her dreams. He wanted all his kids to have and do everything they wanted, to have big lives, and he said that Signal Bend was no place to do that.

  And that was true. Even now, as it burgeoned and thrived, Signal Bend was a small town. A tiny town. No room for big dreams.

  But Iris didn’t have any dreams.

  His reaction to her question, however, was not surprise. He simply considered her quietly for several seconds. And then he said, “You know you can. You’re welcome as long as you want to be here. But that’s what you want?”

  “Yeah. I got a job on Main Street today. At Jubilee Antiques. I start on Monday.”

  “Jubilee…That’s Geoff Robins.” Her dad nodded. “He’s not a bad guy. Shannon said he had some of the other owners ruffled because his stock was too oddball for Main Street, but he charmed them all quiet.”

  “I like that it’s oddball.”

  “You don’t want more than this? You don’t want to take that new degree and do something exciting with it? You don’t want anything bigger and better than this small life?”

  “Nope. I’m excited about this. I love it here. And I can help with Millie and Joey, too.”

  “I love you being here.” He set his big old hand on her leg. “Did you talk to your mom about this?”

  Her mother would not be pleased, but Iris was twenty-three years old. “Nope. I will, but it’s not her call.”

  That earned her a knowing smirk, and Iris grinned back. Her dad didn’t do what her mom had always done. He didn’t talk about her mom, except the way he just had—even since they’d been grown. Iris couldn’t think of any time he’d ever said anything critical directly to her or Rose. She’d overheard him talking to Shannon a few times, but that didn’t count. In fact, it made it even better to know that he was angry, too, yet he did all he could to keep it away from his kids.

  “I’ll tell her after Christmas.”

  “That’s probably best.” Giving her thigh a gentle pat, her dad stood up with a groan. “You ready to go in and see if there’s food yet?”

  On the walk back to the house, he gave her little white pickup, parked along the side of the garage, a glance. “How’s Moby running?”

  “I hit a pothole driving home. It’s been kind of rattly since.” She dipped her head, ashamed. One thing her dad didn’t like was careless driving.

  “Iris. You need to be careful. You need to see what’s ahead of you on the road.”

  She wasn’t very good at that—in driving or in life. “I know, Daddy. I’ll do better.”

  He hooked his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head. “I know you will. I’m going to the clubhouse after supper. Come by later, and I’ll put him on the rack and see what you did.”

  ~oOo~

  It was later than she’d even planned by the time she got to the clubhouse. After supper and cleaning up, she’d showered and changed and redone her face and hair.

  She didn’t like to go to the clubhouse unless she looked decent. Unlike her sister, she hadn’t gotten many of the good family genes. Rose had their dad’s tallness and their mom’s fair coloring. She was long and slim and naturally pale blonde, with eyes that swirled green and blue, and she’d even worked as a model in college.

  Iris, on the other hand, had their mom’s shortness and tendency toward what their mom called ‘womanliness’ but was just plain old fat, and their dad’s more average coloring. Her natural hair color was his average shade of light brown, and her eyes were his average shade of light blue. So she colored her hair, changing that with her mood, she perfected the ‘smoky eye,’ she worked out and watched what she ate, and she didn’t go to a clubhouse full of bikers without making the most of what she had.

  Like her boobs. She’d gotten her mom’s great boobs. Rose, at least, had missed out on that. Iris had been on the tall side, too, when she was little, but then she�
�d started to get boobs early, and she’d basically stopped growing vertically. Rose had kept growing up, like a tree—tall and flat.

  As usual in the winter, there were more trucks on the lot than bikes, but when she saw the old Harley Ironhead at the end of the short row of bikes, Iris took an extra minute, turned down the visor to check the mirror, and made sure that she looked as good as she could. That old bike was Nolan’s.

  She really liked Nolan. A lot. He’d never noticed her, except as a fellow club kid, and she wasn’t about to ever throw herself at him, but she wanted to look as good as possible, on the off chance that he might take a look.

  She undid another button on her fitted flannel shirt, better to show the little brown beater under it, which swept low, letting the lace edge of her black bra just barely peek out. She took a quick sniff of her wrists and, satisfied that she had just the right amount of scent on, got out of her truck.

  As she walked in, she tried to think of herself as beautiful. She’d read that somewhere—if you thought you were beautiful, other people would, too. Today, she thought she’d made a good effort. Her good-ass jeans and her favorite boots, and the leather jacket Shannon and her dad had given her last Christmas.

  It was a weeknight, so it wasn’t as wild inside as it could get. As she scanned the main room, which the Horde called the Hall, Iris saw members and club girls and a few hangarounds. The club wasn’t currently recruiting and didn’t have any prospects. People were just hanging out—drinking, playing pool, making out.

  She didn’t see her dad or any of the older members she’d always called ‘uncles.’ The younger guys waved when they saw her and called out a ‘hey,’ but otherwise, she was left alone. That was disappointing, actually. She liked coming in and being greeted with a bunch of bear hugs.

  But Nolan was there. He was at the bar, talking to one of the hangarounds—a guy she didn’t know. She knew he was a hangaround because he wasn’t wearing a kutte. Members always wore their kuttes in the clubhouse. It was a rule.

  Standing up a little straighter, putting her best assets a little more out front, she walked over to the bar. “Hey, Nolan.”

  He put on a big, warm smile. As was often the case, she had the impression that he was putting on the smile. It wasn’t that it looked fake or insincere. It was more like smiling wasn’t on his menu of common expressions. It always made Iris feel a little sad, even when he was laughing.

  “Hey, Iris!” Catching her arm, he pulled her close and kissed her cheek. He was sitting on the barstool, but she was short enough that he still had to lean down a little bit. “When’d you get to town?”

  “Yesterday.” She took her jacket off and hung it on the back of the stool next to his.

  As she climbed up and sat, Nolan said, “Get Iris a beer, Mug.”

  It wasn’t until she had a bottle of Budweiser in front of her that she understood that Nolan hadn’t asked for a beer mug. Mug was the guy’s name, apparently. “Thanks.”

  “Now get lost.”

  At Nolan’s command, Mug nodded and got lost.

  “Congratulations on graduating. That’s cool.” He lifted his own bottle, and she knocked hers with his.

  “Thanks. Took long enough, but I got it done.” Feeling nervous, she took a long drink and set her bottle down. There was a Christmas doodad on the bar—a plastic headband with a springy pole sticking up from it. A little plastic sprig of mistletoe dangled from the top. Iris rolled her eyes. One of the club girls must have left it behind.

  “That’s a big deal. Did you do the whole big walk in a Hogwarts robe and all that?”

  She laughed. “Nah. My school only does a ceremony in May. I could go back to Indiana and walk then, but I don’t see the point. I got what I wanted out of college.”

  “And what’s that?” he asked and took a long swallow from his beer, killing it.

  Normally, she kept her real answer to herself. It pissed her mom off, and most people just didn’t get it. She’d gone to college without knowing what she wanted to do with her life, and she’d graduated without finding the answer. But she told Nolan with a shrug, “It was interesting. I learned stuff. I guess that’s all I wanted.”

  When Nolan laughed, she thought he was making fun of her, and she blushed and started fidgeting with that stupid Christmas headband.

  But he was nodding. “If everybody thought of school like that, maybe it wouldn’t suck so bad.” He put his empty down and stood. “You want another?”

  “Sure.” She still had half of the first one, but, as Nolan walked around to the other side of the bar, she put it to her mouth and tried to chug it.

  He noticed, and the smile he gave her looked like it belonged on his face. While he opened two fresh Buds, she finished her first with one more try.

  “So what’s next?” he asked as he sat and pushed a bottle toward her.

  “Huh?”

  “Now that you’re done with school? Or is that a shitty question?”

  “It’s kind of a shitty question, actually. Everybody asks.”

  “Sorry.”

  Because it was Nolan, and they were having a real conversation that didn’t have anything to do with the club or their parents, and she wanted it to keep going as long as possible, she gave him another real answer. “It’s okay. I just don’t have much of an answer. I guess…I guess I just…don’t want much. People always want to know about my dreams and plans, and I don’t really have any.”

  He considered her quietly, long enough that she began to feel self-conscious about blabbing too much about herself. “No?” he finally asked.

  She dragged the headband thing back and forth over the bar. “Uh-uh. The future is just empty to me. I don’t understand how people can decide what their life’s going to be like five years from now. I’m excited to know what I’m going to be doing on Monday.”

  Nolan dropped his hand over the headband, which by now Iris had arcing wildly back and forth. Embarrassed, she pulled her hand back and set it in her lap.

  Then he picked the headband up and, with both hands, he reached over and pushed it onto her head, catching her hair and pulling it tight from her forehead.

  He smiled—just a little one, a corner of his mouth drawing up a bit. “Merry Christmas, Iris.”

  He leaned in and kissed her.

  Iris’s heart completely stopped, and then it began to bang like a bass drum in her ears.

  The kiss wasn’t much. He just laid his lips on hers for a couple of seconds and then backed off.

  But he was staring at her, and something in his eyes—which were a dark, totally not-average shade of blue—was different. He put his hand on her face. His fingers slid over her cheek, under her ear, until he was holding her head. When he leaned in again, Iris leaned in, too, and the kiss was a lot more. His tongue slid into her mouth, and the stubble around his lips scratched her skin lightly, and Iris thought she might just pass out right there, just drop right off the barstool and onto the clubhouse floor.

  He ended the kiss but didn’t go far, and they stayed like that, sort of leaning on each other, for a second that never seemed to end.

  “Papa Bear coming up on your six.” Len’s voice, right at their side, blew the moment into fragments, and Nolan and Iris both reared back. She saw her dad talking to Badger and Isaac at the back of the Hall, near the side hallway. He didn’t seem to have noticed them yet.

  Iris wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Hi, Uncle Len.”

  “Hey, beautiful. Glad to have you home.” He kissed her cheek and turned to Nolan. “We gotta roll, brother.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Nolan stood and met Iris’s eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

  When she nodded dumbly, he also kissed her cheek, and he headed for the door.

  Confused and actually, literally dizzy, Iris could only watch while Nolan walked away.

  When she turned back, her father was standing at her side, staring at the door Nolan and Len had just passed through.

  “Hi
, Daddy.”

  He turned to her, frowning. “There something goin’ on between you and Nolan?”

  Everybody knew that her dad had almost killed Badger when he’d started seeing Iris’s stepsister, Adrienne. Badge and Adrienne had been married now for years, but her dad had beaten the hell out of him a few times at first. Iris knew that, if that kiss even meant anything—and who knew if it did—her father would not take it well if she got with a member of the Horde. Not that that would stop her.

  She laughed, and she heard that it was way too high-pitched and manic. “No, Daddy. We were just talking.”