As Far As Far Enough

by Claire Rooney

  My leathers still hung in the closet. They were tighter than I remembered them being and the knee was still torn, but I managed to get everything zipped and tucked. With the saddlebags slung over my shoulder, I headed for the stairs. My boots clomped against the risers as I studied, for the last time, the progression of pictures hanging on the wall. Her mother and father were at the very top of the stairs, young and laughing. A few steps down and a little older, they wore more serious expressions but still had twinkling eyes. Then baby Meri and beaming parents, young Meri, towheaded and pigtailed, an older Meri in cap and gown with mom and dad, grizzle haired, bright eyed and proud.

  At the bottom step, there was a picture of me, still with BandAids and fading yellow bruises. Sergeant was peering over my shoulder, his upper lip pulled up over his big square teeth. Meri and I fought over that picture. I didn’t want it developed, but she did it anyway. After seeing it, I could understand why she wanted to. There was a smile on my face that I hadn’t known I owned. One I’d never seen in a magazine or in newspaper print. It was a shining thing, bold and brave, comfortable on my face. I touched my fingers to my scar, still puckered but now not so pink. They both seemed to me to be fitting souvenirs. Meri would have the photograph to remind her of me, and I would have every mirror I would ever look into. I turned away from the stairs, shifted my saddlebags across my shoulders and walked out of the house, across to the barn.

  All the system lights across the dash came on when I turned the key. A press of the button, the engine roared and then settled into a tiger’s purr. I threw a leg over and kicked up the stand. The engine grumbled impatiently as I rolled the bike slowly out of the barn. I slipped my sunglasses on. My helmet was still lying out in a field somewhere. We never did find it or my gloves. I would have to stop soon and get a new helmet and a new pair of gloves, but for now, I would enjoy the wind in my hair and hope that I wouldn’t hit a June bug at seventy. I had enough scars. My foot tapped the clutch, and it slipped into first gear with a satisfying snick. I nodded my head, revved the engine and started down the drive.

  Halfway to the road I saw Meri’s truck turning in. She saw me, honked her horn and flicked the lights. My muscles tensed as I swerved off the drive and into the grass. I drove around her without slowing. In the right rearview mirror, I saw her brake lights come on. The truck door opened and Meri jumped out. She was running behind me, awkward and stumbling over the gravel in her heels. I could see her shouting and waving her arms. I flipped the mirror down. It was better this way, I told myself. It was better this way.

  I turned onto the road and twisted hard on the throttle. The engine screamed and my front wheel popped off the ground. It fell back again and I picked up speed, the wind rushing past my ears, tires eating the pavement. The green canopy of trees blurred above me. I leaned hard into a curve, my knee just inches from the blacktop, and the driveway, with its little B&B sign of hand-painted letters, disappeared behind me. I pointed my chin at the road and settled into the wind, welcoming the hard press of it against my chest, its harsh fingers scrubbing at my cheeks.

  I got lost trying to find Taylor’s shop. It wasn’t that Laurelvalley was so large, one main street with two rows of three-story buildings and a stop sign at the crossroads, but rather that it was so unremarkable that if you weren’t paying attention it would slide right by you. I drove clear through town and out the other side before I realized it. A few wrong turns later and I found myself on a road where the pavement turned to gravel. I was tired of gravel, so I turned around and drove back to the stop sign. There were some kids crossing the street about a block away, boys of nine or ten carrying bamboo fishing poles and one little girl in pigtails carrying the bucket. They stared at me wide-eyed and slack jawed when I rolled to a stop in front of them to ask for directions. Their eyes cut from me to the girl. “It’s a lady,” one of the boys whispered. The little girl grinned at me, gap toothed and freckled. I smile and gave her the secret-club-for-girls-only head nod. She stood taller and solemnly nodded back to me while the boys just stared. With a dash of luck and a little bit of assertiveness on her part, I didn’t think she’d be stuck holding the bucket anymore.

  They pointed the way to Taylor’s in a mess of garbled confusion, all stumbling over one another, shouting and hopping up and down. I followed the direction that a majority of the little hands were pointing and then found the place anyway, off a side street behind the volunteer fire department and rescue squad. The sign painted neatly on the cinderblock wall read: McNally’s Antique Engine Repair, Tool and Die, Welding and Other Fancy Stuff. I might have laughed if I hadn’t known about the snake. Nothing Taylor did seemed very funny after that.

  I killed the bike, dug the borrowed tools out of the saddlebag and went inside. A large cowbell clanked against the door. The shop was brightly lit and neater than I would have suspected a mechanic’s shop to be, though it smelled strongly of gas and stale tobacco. There was a guy leaning over an old long-nosed car, his head buried deep inside the engine. The car looked like a Duesenberg, but I didn’t think there were that many left in the world.

  “Be with you in a minute,” he yelled. There was a clunk and a short stream of cursing that sounded a lot like Taylor. It was. He walked over to me rubbing his head.

  “Hey,” he said with a wince and a nod. “How’s the bike?”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “At least, it shifted okay on the way over.” I handed him the tools. “Thanks for letting me borrow these.”

  He took them from me. “Did you run it through all the gears?” He turned and set the tools on a bench.

  I nodded and he smiled.

  “You’re pretty handy for a girl.”

  I just stared at him and he coughed into his hand. “Well, then. Do you mind if I take a look at it? Not to check your work,” he said quickly when he saw my eyes narrow. “I’ve never had a good look at a custom before. I’m just curious to see what’s different.”

  I shrugged. He had all day Saturday to see what was different. I knew that wasn’t what he wanted, but I was at a point of indecision. Part of me wanted to scream and run away from Laurelvalley as fast as I could go. Another part of me wanted to scream, run to Meri and throw myself at her feet, begging her to let me stay. Letting Taylor look at the bike seemed like a reasonable compromise. He rolled open the big steel door and we went outside. I wheeled the bike into the shop and he clamped it onto the lift. Air hissed and sizzled as it rose. He peered around the engine, played with the clutch and wiggled some hoses. He glanced at me sideways and lifted the torque wrench. I waved him on and he checked to make sure I had set the clutch bolt correctly. The wrench turned and snicked right away.

  “You’ve got the all makings of a good mechanic,” he said, grinning at me. “You looking for a job?”

  I shook my head. “I’m leaving town.”

  He looked puzzled and frowned. “I’m sure sorry to hear that. I know you’ve been a big help to Meri with the chores and all that. Running a farm is a lot of work for just one person.” He pulled a dirty rag out of his pocket and wiped a bug speck off the duct tape on the windscreen. He shook the rag out and stuffed it into a different pocket. “Hell, even Sergeant seems to like you. Crazy dumb horse. That’s a small miracle, you know. He’s never liked anybody but her ever since.” A small muscle jumped in his jaw and he turned to the bike.

  Ever since her mother died, is what he didn’t say. He didn’t have to. I’m not even sure he could.

  “Are you sure you’ve got to go, then?” he asked.

  “She asked me to leave.” It was an effort to keep my voice level and calm, but I think I managed.

  He leaned over to fiddle with the air hoses. “I see you turned the clamps around the right way. That’s good. It’s less of a chance that they’ll vibrate loose.” He turned around and leaned against the lift. “Not that they would have anyway, but it’s better to be safe, right?”

  He looked at me sharply, rubbing at his chin with a forefinger. His questio
n wasn’t about the air hoses, and I didn’t answer him. He shook his head and turned back around.

  I rolled my eyes at the back of his head. “Just say what you have to say. I don’t feel like playing games today.”

  He put his hands in his pockets. “I love Meri,” he said to the bike. “I truly do and I always have. Even after we stopped speaking to each other, I still thought that if I waited long enough maybe someday she would change her mind about me. Even after . . .” He cut himself off. His head dipped and his shoulders slumped.

  “If you really loved her you’d stop chasing her. You would let it go and leave her alone.”

  It was a dumb thing to say and I felt stupid after I said it, but I didn’t like the thought of him flirting with Meri after I was gone. Not that I thought she’d do any flirting of her own. She’d be more likely to kill him than to kiss him. I just didn’t like the idea of it.

  “Yep. Let it go.” He nodded slowly. I watched a wrinkle on the back of his neck crease and uncrease. “That’s what all the books say to do. Always seemed like crazy advice to me, telling you to do the opposite of what you wanted to do most.” He threw a glance at me from over his shoulder. “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “What?”

  “Do you love her so much that you’re letting it go?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked with a frown.

  He turned around to face me again, his shoulders set in a tired slouch. “I’ve known Meri all my life. I’ve never seen her look the way she looks when she talks about you,” he said. “Her whole face changes. Her eyes light up from the inside, and it’s like I don’t know who she is anymore.” He smiled a twisted half smile that was both amused and bitter. “It’s enough to make a grown man cry.”

  “When did she ever talk to you about me?”

  “Right around noon today. She came by here after she talked to Auntie Bea and she didn’t even have a gun or anything.” He sighed a weary whoosh of air. “She loves you. You really ought to think about staying.”

  “But she told me to leave.”

  He shook his head. “If she did, it was just because she was scared. I’d be willing to bet that she didn’t think you would. You’re used to being the center of attention. You know what to expect and how to handle things. She’s never been the center of any kind of scandal. It just scared her, that’s all. I know she doesn’t want you to leave.”

  “She told you who I am?” A flutter in my chest rose up to tickle the base of my throat.

  He chuckled. “No, I already knew who you were. I recognized you that first time in the barn. I don’t have much to do besides fix cars and watch TV. I’ve seen you on it a couple times, the Power and Politics show or something like that.”

  I’d been on that show dozens of times, always standing at my father’s elbow, smiling and looking pretty. “Who did you tell?” I asked him softly and wondered, again, how far it was to the Arctic Circle. Maybe I could lose myself in tundra or hide out with the polar bears.

  He tilted his head to one side. “I told Aunt Beatrice, but that’s all. It’s not anybody else’s business.”

  “I don’t understand what business it is of hers.”

  “Auntie’s a huge fan of yours.” He grinned. “She’s always been fascinated by your father’s career in a weirdly negative kind of way. She thinks he’s the devil’s own spawn, out to destroy the middle class and outlaw apple pie or some such thing. Ever since your big escape, she’s been rooting for you to get away from him and find something for yourself in the world. Mind you, I don’t think Meri is quite what she had in mind.” His smile turned soft and wistful. “She’s always loved politics. Crazy old woman. Nuttier than a fruitcake.”

  “So why does she need to know that I’m here in Laurelvalley?”

  He shrugged. “You know Meri went to see her this morning, right?”

  “Right.” I wasn’t likely to forget.

  “Well, of course, Aunt Beatrice was livid. I mean the kitchen floor thing was a pretty big shock to her.” He held up his hands when he saw my jaw drop. “Auntie told me about that, not Meri.”

  I shut my mouth, but my cheeks grew uncomfortably warm.

  “You have to understand what it meant to her. She was just stunned at first, but when she got around to thinking, it made her mad enough to spit nickels. Auntie’s got her own ideas about how things should be.” Taylor looked at his hands and pulled out his rag to rub at a spot of oil on his palm. “She was looking forward to Meri having a baby boy someday, sort of to replace her lost brother. You know, carry on the family genes and stuff. She never had the chance to marry, and so she holds on pretty fierce to the idea that life should be lived traditionally if you have the opportunity. Auntie threatened Meri with all kinds of dreadful things unless she got herself married soonest.”

  “I told her that’s what would happen.”

  “And it did.” Taylor tucked the rag back into his pocket and folded his arms across his chest. “How do you suppose Meri answered her?”

  I didn’t have to think very hard about that one. “I’m sure she told her aunt that, no matter what, she wouldn’t marry you.”

  “True enough,” he said, nodding his head. “That’s pretty much what she said.” He held up a finger and waved it at me. “But she also told her that she wouldn’t marry anybody else either. Meri told Aunt Beatrice that she’s in love with you and that she intends to build her life with you and henceforth, from this day forward, Auntie was to please phone before she came over.”

  “Oh.” I remembered Meri’s flickering headlights and her waving arms. A glimmering of hope shivered through me. It weakened my knees, and I had to lean against the tool bench.

  Taylor’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “As you can imagine, Auntie nearly had a stroke,” he said. “Disowned her right on the spot. Meri came over here right after and told me the whole story. Said she thought I should know why she had said no those four and some years ago and I was going to hear about it anyway, so I might as well hear it from her.” Taylor’s smile faded. “Makes a lot of sense to me now, but I sure wish she’d told me then. Maybe . . .” He seemed to shake himself away from the thought. “She hasn’t forgiven me, but she says she’s not looking to kill me anymore. I imagine I have you to thank for that.”

  I shrugged. He shrugged back.

  “It’s a start. Anyway, I went over to Auntie’s and told her that I knew all about it and listened to her rant for a while. Then I told her who you were. It took her all of fifteen minutes to start planning to have you over for dinner some night soon.” He shook his head and smiled. “Crazy old woman.”

  I wasn’t smiling. My small glimmer of hope flickered and died. “She’ll tell all her friends.”

  He nodded, still smiling. “Of course she will.”

  “They’ll tell all their friends.”

  “People do like to talk,” he agreed.

  “My father will hear of it.”

  “Yep. That was sure to happen anyway. This is a very small town, you know. Secrets don’t keep for very long.”

  I sagged against the bench. “I still have to leave.”

  “No,” he said, his grin finally fading. “No, you don’t. There’s your mistake.” He uncrossed his arms and stared at me hard. “Look, I still love Meri, and I expect I always will, but I respect her right to choose her own loves, and she’s chosen you. Now, the way I see it, the only question left is, will you choose her?”

  “No, that’s not the question,” I said emphatically. “That never was a question.” I stood up straight and squared my shoulders. “The only question is when will my father come and how angry will he be when he gets here? I have to leave so Meri and this whole town won’t suffer because of me.”

  “We won’t.” He turned and started lowering the bike lift, the air puffing out like a long, slow sigh.

  “You don’t understand my father.”

  “He’s a man, right? So, sure I understand him.”

 
“It’s not as simple as that.”

  “True.” He smiled. “Let me put it like this. Most people in the world, men and women, get this incredible urge at some point in their lives to collect something that they can pass on to the next generation. My father, when he died, left me his collection of old medicine bottles and faded cigar tins. He got the collection from his father and then passed it on to me like it was all the tea in China. Even I, my own self, have this odd itch to keep it safe so I can pass it on to my children, if I ever have any. Your father, now, he’s collected himself an empire.” He smiled at me and winked. “A man with an empire must have a mighty powerful itch.”

  “He does.”

  Taylor nodded. “That’s good.”

  “How is that good?”

  “It’s good because we can use it.” He unlocked the wheel clamp and rolled the bike off the lift. “I have a plan, and if it works, everybody will be happy in the end.” He grinned at me wide enough to split his face. “And I do mean everybody.”

  I drove slowly back to the house with the trees throwing long shadows across the road. Sunlight flickered on and off in my eyes with wild confusion. My knees were trembling, and I could hardly feel my hands on the handlebars. Taylor’s plan was a crazy one, but with the right timing and a little luck, it just might work. Everyone could be happy.