by CJ Murphy
“I’m not rightly sure, but somethin’s a coming.” Ree often had this phantom pain predicting some major event that was about to take place. It had started the night Johann had been killed and had continued over the years. She’d known when Mule’s brother had been shot in Vietnam. She’d felt it the day Sara was going to give birth to Laurel, even though she wasn’t having any contractions. Her knee just told her. Now it was thumping again.
“Maybe it’s arthritis. Doesn’t always mean something important.” Bobeye dismissed the notion.
“Ree ain’t never been wrong if’n her knee takes to aching,” Mule countered.
“Thank ya for the vote of confidence, Mule. Come here, I wanna show ya something.”
Mule rose out of his chair and knelt beside her. She showed him Val’s photo, and a smile came across his face. “Our Viking’s something, isn’t she?”
“That she is.”
Mule brayed his boisterous laugh. “I can remember the first time she came riding in here. Not sure she’d ever been in a place like this.”
Ree laughed too and thought back to the first time the tall blonde had stepped foot in the store. It had been nearly five years ago.
Looking through the window on the swinging door, Ree watched a tall woman dressed in black leather pants and a white t-shirt approach the register. She cracked the door to listen. “Would it be all right if I took some pictures in here for a story I’m doing about this trip?”
Laurel looked up and back down quickly, her face flushing. “Sure, that’s part of the charm we have around here. Anything else I can help you with?”
“Can you give me a little history on this place?”
Laurel smirked. “If you want that story, you’ll want talk to the owner.”
“Is he here?”
“She is. Her name is Marie Stemple. She and her husband Johann started running this place back in 1956. Let me see if she’s got time talk to you. She’s frying apple pies.”
Ree backed away from the doors as she watched Laurel approach.
A few moments later, Ree came out of the back, straightening her apron and adjusting the tight bun pinned to the back of her head. Smoothing the rest of the strays back, she brushed flour off her arm. “How can I help ya?”
“Yes, ma’am, sorry for interrupting you.” The woman looked around. “I believe this diner might be the most interesting place I’ve ever been.”
Ree laughed and waved the woman over as she made her way to the rockers by the warm potbelly stove. There was still a little chill left from a late snowfall, and the fire chased the dampness from the air inside. “Forgive me, I hafta sit. I can’t stand for long periods no more. Mind’s a willin’…the body, that’s another thing. And don’t call me ma’am, makes me feel like I’ve got one foot in the grave. Name’s Marie, but ya can call me Ree like the rest of these fools.”
The woman replied, “Ree. I like it.”
“It’s the only one I got besides Gram, and I only got one who calls me that.”
“My name is Val. Val Magnusson. I do some photography for Rider Magazine and I’m not sure I’ve ever been in a place that advertised ice cream and taxidermy in the same sentence. I know I’ve never been in a place this awesome.” Her smile widened as she looked around, landing on the mounted game animals. “Who did all those?”
One corner of Ree’s mouth curled up. “Who do ya think, kid?”
Eyes wide, Val shook her head. “You’re pulling my leg.”
Ree held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Val belly laughed. “Ree, you’re a fascinating woman. How did you come to own the store?”
Ree turned the thin gold band on her left hand. “When I married Johann, he was working on his father’s dairy farm. He wasn’t in line to run it so, sometime after we got married, his father helped us start this place. It was a little place then, a single Texaco pump and a little store. For the first five years, we lived in two rooms in the back. Then the babies started comin’, so we bought the house Laurel and I live in. Since we didn’t need the living space any more, we added the diner. My daughters were still little the night Johann went out to help Mule’s dad. He slid into the ditch on a bad stretch of road up here on the mountain. Another car came by and clipped him. He died right there on the highway.” She paused for a minute and dabbed her eyes with a thin floral handkerchief she pulled from her white apron pocket. “Had to take care of my girls, so I started making this place into something everyone needed.”
Diners filled the booths of the restaurant with heaping plates of food in front of them. People stood in line at the register with ice cream cones and treasures in hand.
Val cleared her throat. “It looks like you managed to accomplish exactly what you set out to do.”
“Half the kids in the community have worked the diner at one time or another, and thanks to the likes of people like you traveling through, we do all right.”
“I’d say better than that. We had a heck of a time finding room for the motorcycles.”
“We’re pretty popular with your two-wheeled friends in the better weather. Pretty good stopping place for those needing to stretch their legs.” Ree chuckled and stretched her own legs out.
“I can agree with that. Will it be okay if I do a little story on this place? I have a pretty good following among motorcycle riders. We’re always looking for interesting places to stop.”
“Honey, it’s a free country last time I checked. Make sure ya get something to eat before ya go.” Ree pushed a menu toward her visitor.
“What would you recommend?”
Ree had explained the specials and remembered the way Val’s face twisted at the mention of coleslaw. She chuckled at how she’d introduced Val to Laurel.
“I’ll send my granddaughter out with something for ya.”
“Which one is your granddaughter?” Val asked, looking around.
“The prettiest one, of course. She looks just like me.” Ree smoothed her hair back. “Laurel, behind the counter. Sweeter child never been born. Not sure what I’da done without her all these years. She keeps this place running, and I keep the wolves at bay.”
“Sorry?”
“Not like it’s a secret. She’s never been ashamed of who she is and neither have I. She bats for the other team, as the boys say. We get a lot of men through here that think only with the head they got between their legs, if ya get my meanin’. Some don’t take no for an answer too easy. Some of ’em get downright mean. That’s where I come in. I remind ’em of their manners and show ’em the exit if they can’t find ’em somewhere.”
“Ree, you truly are one of a kind. Wish there were more of you out there. Think we can clone you?”
“Land sakes, child, one of me in this world is too much for some people. You go find your way to the counter, and Laurel will bring ya your food. Now, ya make sure ya come back through here as you’re traveling.”
“That, you can count on.” Val held three fingers up. “Scouts honor.”
The memory made Ree smile. Val had cleaned her plate and groaned in pleasure at the first bite of a fried apple pie. Ree used dried apples from her own trees and a special syrup recipe stuffed into a hand-made dough, folded over and pinched closed with a fork. They were fried golden brown and dusted with sugar. Val had devoured it.
Pulling herself from her first memories of Val, Ree rocked, scrolling through the Facebook travels of the woman she’d become fond of. It was apparent Val had been through a great deal, and Ree always felt life was too short not to eat dessert first. She was dead sure that her granddaughter was even fonder of the tall woman. Unless she missed her mark, Val had feelings for Laurel also. “Both too stubborn to go after what they both want and need.”
***
Laurel finished rearranging the cooler for the third time while she considered her grandmother’s words. It was hard to admit her feelings. Her heart did beat harder at the sound of Val’s voice and her palms weren’t the only things
that got wet. The memory of the first time she’d laid eyes on Val still sent shivers up her spine. They’d shared a great deal about themselves in that first meeting, things she couldn’t imagine sharing with any other stranger in the store. The attraction had been immediate and grew stronger every time Val was anywhere near her. She anticipated her visits as much as her grandmother did. If she knew Val was coming through soon, she watched the calendar like an expectant mother and searched her closet for what might catch Val’s eye. She’d never done that for anyone.
She looked forward to their walks and placing her hand under Val’s belt. To be honest, she kept an eye on Val’s social media account just to be able to see her, to feel connected in some way while Val rode through warmer climates. Spring brought anticipation of many things, but none more than knowing Val would be stopping in. She ached for even the briefest of embraces where she could feel Val’s strength and smell her sharp cologne. Just the thought of it raised goosebumps on her arms and she rubbed them with her hands. What she felt for Val was no passing phase. She’d fallen for Val that day over a meal and good conversation. Every time she thought of Val, she understood what her grandmother meant about the heart knowing what it wants, even if the mind doesn’t.
***
Val went back to her room after the morning’s activities. She found it disgraceful that fifteen years past 9/11 and the thousands of casualties later, there was no memorial for the Iraqi or Afghanistan veterans. Those who made the ultimate sacrifice in bringing to justice the terrorists behind 9/11 deserved recognition. Those who died knew they were fighting a war, no matter what Washington called it. Those people were brave. Val never considered herself brave and wanted her fellow soldiers recognized for their sacrifices. Bringing attention to the lack of a tangible memorial was her way to honor them as she rode to the Vietnam Wall for Memorial Day. It was well past time for the politicians to recognize the true cost of war. The VA hospitals were overrun with mental health issues and serious lingering injuries. Everyone screamed from the mountaintops at the treatment of veterans, and yet no one wanted higher taxes or to pay that unseen cost of war in the treatment of long-term brain injuries. Val’s temple pounded and her jaw hurt from being clinched. Her hands ached from being balled into fists. She opened them and rubbed her face.
She shook herself, dispelling the anger. She knew dwelling too long on these subjects would drive her into a bottle, or the arms of someone she really didn’t want. After Tess, she’d kept her sexual liaisons brief and without any real meaning. She didn’t get serious or leave things with a question regarding the next time the woman would see her. Val had been honest with them about her needs and tried to make those she was with satisfied.
Since meeting Laurel almost five years ago, she hadn’t even taken a woman to dinner. The attraction to Laurel was so strong, but she couldn’t bring herself to move past the casual flirtation. Something about Laurel kept her from doing it. Hurting Laurel, or Ree for that matter, was a greater concern than her need for sexual release and the oblivion losing herself in a woman’s body would bring. No, she knew what it would be with Laurel, and she was both exhilarated and terrified at the prospect. Doubts caused her to believe she’d fall far short of what Laurel deserved. Instead of taking that chance, she always swung one leg over Maggie’s black tank and rode off into the sunset. Time and time again, Laurel Anastasia Stemple drew her back.
Her cellphone rattled across the table, alerting her to a notification. It was Liz with a date and an appointment time. Val added it to her Google calendar and sent a simple ‘thanks’ in response. Closing her eyes, she put her phone in the chest pocket of her leather coat. She’d plug it into her audio system on Maggie. She finished rolling her clothes into the leather duffle bag she’d attach to the seat. She picked up the cup of coffee and stood at the window overlooking over the city. Her mind drifted to the memory of Laurel leaning against the porch post. Thinking of how it felt to hold her caused her to smile. She looked at her watch, finished the coffee, and picked up her gear. Within thirty minutes, she’d start back along the same route they’d taken the few days before. The way she had it planned out, she could spend about four hours at the diner visiting with Ree, Laurel, and the gang, while passing on the rubbing of Dale’s name to Mule. She looked forward to these visits with all the anticipation of a child at Christmas. She could see them every day and her reaction would be the same. These people were like family, and she craved the warmth of their embraces after her absence like an addict. She bounded down the stairs, imagining walking into the diner’s kitchen. The yeasty smell of homemade rolls, of fresh coffee and tangy chili sauce. Her mouth watered. She wanted to do more than just think about being there. She wanted to get on the road, now.
Val’s group met in the parking lot and the lead riders gave instructions while everyone secured their gear. “Hey, John. Marion, you get a good nights sleep?”
Marion, a short woman with a warm smile, tucked a stray strand of brown hair back into her helmet. “We did. You ready to get back on the road?”
“You know it. I’m not much for hanging in the concrete jungle. I’ve never much liked city life.”
Val watched Marion’s husband John, a gentle giant of a man, gather his gray hair back into a ponytail and slip on his helmet while she strapped her bag to the bike. She pulled on her own helmet and threw her leg across the wide leather seat. She reached for her camera as he settled in on his seat and brought his Harley to life.
John put on his sunglasses. “I’m ready to get out of here. Too many damn politicians for my taste.”
As the bikes roared to life, the ground trembled like a massive beast. The percussion of the exhaust beat against Val’s chest. She loved this moment, seconds before the incredible horsepower would be unleashed. She snapped several shots of the group as they pulled out onto the roadway. Tucking the camera into the special pouch near her windshield, her retreating hand touched the small photo of Maggie and Lorraine for luck. As she made it to the roadway, her body settled into the familiar rhythm. The farther they rode, the more her nerves settled. Cool Springs drew her back, like a magnet, to Laurel.
Concrete, high rises, and traffic congestion gave way to green rolling hills and tree lined blacktop. Dodge pickup trucks replaced the BMWs of the city. As soon as they crossed the West Virginia border, a smile crossed Val’s face. Her mind conjured up John Denver’s tribute to the mountain state that was its unofficial battle cry. She sang the familiar tune that called her to travel this twisting winding road. It’s like this road leads me back to the place my heart belongs. It leads me back to her. Just the thought of spending even a few hours with Laurel brought her true happiness.
It was a thing of beauty to watch the bikes be so in sync. Some of this group had been riding together almost twenty years. She particularly enjoyed watching John and Marion who rode in front of her. Milliseconds separated their movements. She watched as John’s bike would roll left or right, with Marion mimicking the fluid movements.
Turning her radio to John and Marion’s talk channel, she spoke aloud. “You know, watching you two ride is a lot like watching synchronized swimming.”
After a second of silence, Marion’s voice filled her head. “That’s what riding together for over two decades will do for you.”
They’d previously owned a motorcycle shop together and started a large motorcycle rally in South Eastern Ohio that carried on to this day. Their son John Jr. ran the shop so they could enjoy retirement riding around the country at their leisure. John and Marion had become her good friends. They frequently took trips together including being with her the first time she’d stopped at Cool Springs. It was a comfortable friendship. Still, they didn’t know as much about her as Laurel and Ree did. Strange. Val probably spent more time with the couple, but it was always about the bikes, or John’s plane, or Marion’s musical abilities. She knew quite a bit about them, but they only knew the surface of her.
She was almost positive the couple
didn’t know her leg was amputated below the knee. Neither did Laurel or Ree. Having her natural knee and wearing a top of the line prosthesis allowed for no noticeable limp. Pants and boots allowed her to easily conceal the metal and fiberglass. Learning to live with the loss hadn’t been near as hard as finding her grace in surviving the blast that killed her friends. The bile rose in her throat, choking her. She focused hard on the back of Marion’s bike, forcing her feeling of guilt into the background. Her mind shifted to her next destination. Knowing she’d see Laurel and Ree soon allowed her to shake off the melancholy.
The miles to Aurora rolled by easily, the traffic passing in the opposite direction was sporadic. Large green fields dotted the landscape. A green tractor pulling a wagon passed by. Looking up, she saw a sizable break in the line from the lead bikes. As they passed the fire department, a flash of yellow caught her eye. She jerked her head sideways in time to see a sports car run through the stop sign at the intersection of US Route 50 and County Route 26. She braked hard and steered to avoid the impending collision, her heart leaping into her throat. The car’s momentum was too great, and it caught the side of her bike. Her vision tunneled into a stop motion effect. Each frame a second of her life. The sound of squealing brakes and smell of burnt rubber, the groan and pop of metal bending and giving way, all assaulting her senses. Oh shit! The collision sent her into a slide, sparks flying into the air as metal ground against pavement. The force of the blow ripped the handlebars from her grip and she was thrown off.
Her head hit the pavement with a bone-jarring thud as she went spinning into a field along the roadside. Her body rolled over and over, finally sliding to a stop. Too shocked to feel the pain, her ears rang. She tasted the tang of copper. She spit out a mouthful of blood, spraying the inside of her visor. Everything spun.
