Silver Biker: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

by L. B. Dunbar

  “He’s waiting for you,” she whispers, and Giant twists his attention from his wife to the woods again.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Letty leans her head against Giant’s chest, tucking her arm through his as she releases mine. “I’ve handled everything.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of, Cricket,” he grumbles before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  “Go,” she mouths to me, and I smile back, almost giddy with anticipation of what I’ll find in the trees.

  18

  Campfires and Cocktails

  [Evie]

  To say I had to psych myself up to sleep with my husband was an understatement and a lie. James handled my body in a way that brought out my fantasies and dispelled any inhibitions. He was a sexual being, and sometimes we used sex to communicate our feelings. Grunts and groans were our conversation, and occasionally, our argument, but we always felt better after we connected on that physical level.

  A divorced friend once told me, “If you can still have sex with him, well, at least it’s something.” It’s when the thought of kissing him is unbearable that it’s time to leave. It’s one reason I did go. James was no longer attracted to me. He couldn’t look me in the eyes. He didn’t want to touch me. And while I didn’t need us to stare at one another while we had sex, it came to a point he couldn’t muster the will to have sex.

  It’s one reason his request to sleep with me was so puzzling.

  Why sex? Why now?

  I chalked it all up to closure. He wanted this one final act to finalize things. James was not vindictive—at least not toward me—so he would not make this request out of spite or jealousy. He simply had his reason, which he wasn’t going to share with me. We weren’t talking. We were having sex. Period. End of us.

  With this thought in mind, I step back into the darkening woods. My heart races. My core pulses. I am a live wire of nerves, ready to detonate at any second.

  “James.” His name is a breathless leak from my lips when I find him propped against a tree. His long legs in dark jeans are crossed at the ankle with freshly polished motorcycle boots on his feet. His linked arms shield his chest covered in a black dress shirt, rolled at the sleeves, but containing a tie, also in black. He personifies motorcycle menace dressed up, and with his casual lean against a trunk, he is badass meets nature, and I wanted to scale his body like this mountain. His blue eyes shine crystal clear despite the filtered light coming through the overhanging leaves.

  He doesn’t greet me, only stares at me. His eyes wander the length of my dress, which hits me mid-calf, meeting the tops of my scuffed cowboy boots. My jean jacket hangs open, exposing the low cut of the dress, where a hint of cleavage pops over the edge. My hair lays around my shoulders, and I nervously brush back a section, tucking it behind my ear. My lids lower, and I’m self-conscious that I still don’t meet his approval.

  Maybe he’s changed his mind.

  Taking a deep breath, I realize I can’t do it. I can’t pretend he wants me when he doesn’t. I can’t sleep with him, knowing it’s a means to an end—the end of us. I spin back for the clearing and take only two steps before his arm circles my waist, halting my retreat.

  His nose nuzzles into the crook of my neck, and the warmth of his breath tickles down my spine. My eyes close as I accept his chest at my back. Dipping under my jacket with his hand, he spreads his fingers, covering my belly.

  “Dance with me,” he whispers below my ear.

  “What?” I choke, considering where we stand and how close his family is.

  “Just one dance,” he mutters, squeezing at my midsection, holding me in place until a memory returns.

  + + +

  Eighteen years ago . . .

  James and I had had a huge fight around the time Michael was due to be born. A fight that sent me running away. I didn’t know where to go, so I just left, driving aimlessly out of town until I remembered his pap’s cabin and wondered if I could find it.

  I was pregnant, tired, and emotionally spent. My new husband had told me he had never wanted to get married. He had never wanted children. And I lost it. He was implying I trapped him, or at least that was how I interpreted it.

  “Well, don’t do me any favors,” I remember shouting at him after I threw a lemon across the kitchen at him. James ducked from the first one. He caught the second one like a professional baseball player.

  “What the fuck?” he hollered back at me.

  “I know you gave up Dolores and all your other fuck buddies, and for what? This?” I jabbed at my belly, feeling fat and disgusting, instead of beautiful like he said I was every day. James had been attentive and seductive on most days. He craved sex, and my libido had not waned with the pregnancy, but I was coming close to the end of my term. My hormones were kicking back up again, bouncing my emotions all over the place, and large tears skated down my face as I yelled at him.

  “Leave Dolores out of this. And other fuck buddies?” he choked. “You have no idea what I gave up for you.”

  My mouth fell open. It was the last straw.

  “I hate you,” I yelled. He knew what I’d given up to be with him.

  Finally, I’d ended up at his grandfather’s cabin. His elderly grandfather still used it on occasion although the family was worried about him being alone in the woods.

  “Hello, Sunshine,” his pap greeted me. Pap always called me sunshine because of my bright blond hair, but I didn’t feel like the sunny star. More like the darkness of the surrounding universe.

  “To what do I owe this honor?” He had a lopsided grin, and I could see where the Harrington men got their charm.

  “I’m running away from home,” I teased even though it wasn’t far from the truth.

  Pap let out a loud laugh. The fierce body of an aging man jiggled like a jolly Santa, and he looked a bit like St. Nick wearing his suspenders over a full belly. “What’d he do?”

  I shook my head although the tears blurred my vision.

  Pap looked toward the ceiling of the covered porch. “Did you see this, Charlotte? I told you she’d come to her senses about that one.” He was addressing the heavens where his dear wife had been to rest for a while.

  “Let me grab us a beer . . . er, ah, in your case a lemonade.” He shuffled back through the screen door while I took a seat in one of two rocking chairs on the porch. When he returned, he handed me a glass filled with ice and light yellow liquid, and held a beer bottle in his other hand, making his way to the second rocker.

  “Tell me everything,” he said once situated. At first, I wasn’t comfortable telling his grandfather about the fight. As a twenty-seven-year-old woman on the verge of motherhood, I shouldn’t be whining about my new husband, especially to his grandfather. However, James and I were still new to each other. Even though it’d been five months, we still didn’t know much about the other, and we were about to embark on a lifetime commitment together.

  Quickly, I got over my unease as I was lonely in Blue Ridge. I’d ostracized all my friends by doing what I’d done back in Savannah, and my parents were hardly talking to me. I spent the next half hour speaking about my relationship with his grandson and another hour listening to him tell me stories about the first year of his marriage.

  He always made Charlotte sound sweet and too good for him.

  “She settled on the town rascal for some reason, and I thanked my stars every day for it. Kind of like you settled in with our James. He’s thankful he has the brightest star in the sky as his girl, Sunshine. I know he didn’t mean what he said.”

  Sometime during my afternoon on his porch, sipping lemonade and feeling guilty at throwing lemons at my husband, James showed up.

  “Got a call that Pap had sunshine at his cabin,” James teased, but his eyes narrowed. He was still angry with me as I was with him.

  “Take a ride with me,” he suggested, tipping his head for his truck, and I climbed in. He drove us to the ranger’s post and explained the histor
y of the place in relation to their property. Their land bordered public land, and they utilized the rarely used access up the mountain to make beer illegally, not unlike making moonshine, once upon a time. Eventually, they took their beer making to a factory setting and sold it legally once the law allowed.

  James explained all this history to me for some reason, walking me to the clearing and then stopping there.

  “Dance with me,” he said, startling me after the fight we’d had and the things we said. I stepped into his open arms, and he turned me in slow circles in the clearing.

  “I didn’t mean I’d given up people like Dolores and fuck buddies.” He snorted, tugging me to him when I immediately strained to be removed from his hold at the mention of others. “I meant, I’d given up my heart. You own me, Evie. Heart and soul. Body and mind. I can’t live without you. Or our baby. Maybe giving up were the wrong words. I’ve given you my heart. It’s yours for whatever you need.”

  His words melted me into his arms, relaxing against his chest as he held me. We danced in circles a few more minutes, letting the rustle in the trees around us be our song until he asked me one more question.

  “Do you really hate me, Peach?” The question was raw and sincere. Even though we’d said I love you, he still didn’t always believe me, telling me he was surprised that a woman like me could love a man like him.

  “I’m sorry I said that.” I peered up at him as I shook my head. “I didn’t mean it.”

  “I love you, Evie. No matter what happens between us. I love you. You were meant to be mine, and I meant what I’ve said. I’ve been waiting for you to take my heart. Keep it.”

  James always told me he was never a liar, and this was one of those moments where the truth was all he had to give me.

  And I held onto that truth, thinking his heart would always be mine.

  + + +

  The memory surprises me as I hadn’t thought of it in years. I also hadn’t been to the clearing or the outpost in even longer. I sadly smile to myself, recalling the rest of that night. We made love right there in the clearing, but it was hardly that simple as my round belly was in the way and being on my knees in the dirt actually stung. I went into labor the next day. The doctor had warned me orgasms could move things along.

  Voices in the distance interrupt the memory. Those gathered must be ready to move back down the mountain.

  “Let’s take a walk,” James suggests, slipping his hands down my arms to capture my fingers and lead me out the opposite end of the path. Still holding my hand, he guides me around the back of the outpost and onto a trail that’s distinctly trampled but not as obvious as the one between the ranger station and the clearing.

  My heart begins to race, and my palms sweat. I think I know where he’s leading me, and I don’t know if I can make this journey. Sensing my unease, James stills once we’re deep enough in the woods we can’t be seen by the wedding guests returning to various trucks to head down the mountain for a proper supper and continued celebration.

  “I don’t think I can do it,” I whisper, my eyes looking over James’s shoulder.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, and if it gets to be too much, we can turn back.” James swallows as he holds tighter to my hand. “I come here a few times a year.”

  I nod, trusting James. I’m certain he said the same thing to our son. Or not. Why would he need to assure our child that he’d always look out for him? Michael had to have instinctively known his father would love him and protect him above all else. James would never let him falter. He’d never let him go.

  James remains quiet as he leads me forward. Our destination is a mile from here, and neither of us has footwear to traipse through the forest. I focus on that thought. We can’t actually climb to that point. That spot where it all happened.

  I’d worked myself into accepting that not every memory in the area is a bad one. Letty and Giant’s wedding had been a beautiful reminder that good times still happened here. James and I had several camping trips as a family in the clearing and romantic nights in the outpost ourselves once upon a time. I focused on those thoughts in order to bring myself up here but going to the actual ridge—the place it all happened—I just could not do it.

  Despite my faith in James, I’m too anxious. My palms sweat to the point my hand slips from his grasp on occasion, and a slow trickle of cold perspiration rolls under each arm. I’m shivering regardless of my body’s heat from expelling energy. My chest begins to constrict like a coil is wrapping around me. I can’t seem to catch my breath as each inhale becomes painful. The vise grip sensation causes my upper back to ache and my ribs to pinch.

  “James,” I whispered, attempting to squeeze his fingers, but they slip from his grip again. He instantly stops.

  “Peach?” My head shakes slowly side to side. I can’t do it. I can’t go there. I can’t look at that cliff.

  “I . . .” The singular word is a wheeze of air, and James quickly wraps his arms around me, hugging me tightly to his chest.

  “Okay, baby. It’s too far to walk there anyway. I just wanted to give Giant and Letty time to get everyone away from the outpost before we went back.”

  I nod into his neck as my forehead presses into the crook near his shoulder. My fingers loosely hold the edges of his shirt, but I don’t have the strength to return his embrace.

  “Shh,” he whispers, soothing me like a frightened pup, stroking down my hair. “I’ve got you.”

  I’ve always been afraid of heights, and I’d tease James he married the wrong woman. I wasn’t a risk-taker, but then again, that’s how we met. I didn’t typically scale mountains, rush into fires, or climb steep heights. My feet needed to remain firmly on flat soil and preferably leveled ground without a large drop-off nearby. Still, I’d take an occasional hike with him, admiring the dense beauty of the woods surrounding where we lived and even congratulating myself on not falling off a cliff.

  In hindsight, it was not a good joke.

  James continues to hold me to him, forcing my face into the freshness of his soft shirt while his fingers comb down the length of my hair.

  “Let’s head back. They’ll be gone by now.”

  Keeping an arm around me, James marches us forward, and I seem to blindly follow until we can’t walk side by side anymore. He takes my hand once again. His fingers curl into mine, locking firm his grip as we take our time to return to the outpost area. Once there, the only vehicle remaining is James’s motorcycle. We round the small hut-like cabin, which I know is a singular room inside, and James asks me to give him a few minutes. He enters the wooden structure and returns with both a small rug and a large blanket.

  Snapping the rug out, he lays it next to a thick fallen trunk cut to fit like back support by a natural fire ring made of rocks.

  “You come here often, don’t you?” It sounds like a pickup line; however, it’s anything but. He must visit often because he’s too calm being here.

  “As I told you, I go to the ridge a few times a year. Birthdays and . . . anniversaries.” James pauses as he kneels next to the fire ring, ready filled with fresh logs and kindling. Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he lights the shreds of paper at the bottom of the stack and blows on the low flame to ignite the pyre. I watch him work, recalling a hundred backyard fires and campfires over the years. James loved to be outside, and while he fought fires as a profession, he worshipped them as well.

  I don’t question how James can face the ridge. During one annual phone call, he told me how he finds solace there. As long as he isn’t looking for Michael to return, I understand his need for a place to connect, a place to question, a place to reflect, although I can’t bring myself to go there. In the same breath, I don’t know that going to that particular spot is helpful to James’s mentality. It’s like visiting the scene of a crime over and over again, looking for a clue that just won’t be found. Not that a crime was committed. It was an accident.

  Horsing around.

  Loose g
ravel.

  I close my eyes and then quickly open them, unable to face my own imagination.

  James settles next to me, watching the dance of flames for a few seconds before sliding his arm along the large log at our back. I shiver, shifting gears from the past to the present.

  I’m going to sleep with my husband.

  Our situation hardly feels romantic, but as the flames orchestrate their music over the piled wood, I slowly relax into the silence of night seeping in around us. The setting actually is romantic.

  “I have wine if you’d like, or more beer if you’re trying not to mix and match,” he offers, and I decide a drink might be nice. It might take the edge off just a little bit, but I won’t have too much.

  “That’d be nice,” I whisper as it’s suddenly difficult to find my voice.

  “I’ll make us some dinner soon unless you’re hungry now. I have a grate for the fire and steaks ready.”

  I softly smile, surprised at his effort. He’s turning this into a real date, and a rather thought-out one at that.

  “I’m not hungry yet, but I’ll take the wine.”

  Adding to my surprise, James kisses my temple before standing and disappearing into the small cabin. He returns quickly with a bottle of red and two glasses. As he folds down to the rug, he tucks the blanket over my legs.

  “Warm enough?” he asks, and I nod again as though I can’t speak. Slowly, I’m shifting from panicked memories to a startled woman, being wowed, and maybe wooed by my husband. He pours me a glass of wine, and after offering it to me, I inhale the crisp, fruity scent of the fall blend while I wait for him to fill a glass for himself. He taps my glass with his but doesn’t speak.

  “What are we toasting?” I ask, grinning with thoughts of cheerful things we could say.

  “I guess the end.” His quiet words hit me square in the chest, and my forehead deeply furrows. I’m disappointed in his lack of fight. Then again, he’s the one who gave me the shove to walk away from him. He didn’t call me back to him. He didn’t chase me down. He let me go.