Bikers and Pearls (15 page)

Chapter Eleven

Bull knew they’d eventually have to have a come-to-Jesus talk. He’d seen the look
on her face in that photo in the newspaper. He’d felt sorry for April that night,
but when he examined her expression in the picture, he saw something distasteful.
Of course they needed to talk. But why did it have to be in a hospital? Yep. He hated
hospitals.

He sat down in the waiting room and she began.

“When I was seven, my father and I were in an accident with a motorcycle—someone from
Rebel Angels died. That night, my father ended up in the hospital after they beat
him mercilessly,” she said.

So that was what this was all about. Oh, God. He had used her pain to turn a few screws
for his amusement at first. And later to push her out of her comfort zone. His heart
sank. But she had no right to lump all bikers into one category.

She told him about the thud, the sirens, her silence.

“I didn’t want you to know me as that person. So, I kept quiet and tried to behave
like it didn’t happen. But I failed. In the end, I was only trying to protect my father.
He hasn’t really gotten over what happened.” She closed her eyes and tears fell. “But
I’ve let the whole thing affect me in ways I should not have. I’ve been wrong.”

Bull understood her better than he ever thought possible. He knew what it was like
to feel like an outsider. How it felt to let his past affect the choices he made for
his life. He got that she was afraid to be hurt. Again.

He cupped one of her hands in his. “That had to be traumatic to go through at such
a young age,” he said.

She nodded.

They sat in silence for a while. Bull had his own closet filled with things he’d rather
not deal with. If he admitted to April that he’d not stood up for his own brother,
considering the way she was standing up for Ben… Well, she would see him in a different
light. This whole thing with Ben was kind of cathartic for him. He’d even come face
to face with his disdain for hospitals. Finally, April spoke up and said, “Where is
Mr. Houseman?”

“Bertie is in Ben’s room with the family,” Bull said.

He looked out the hospital window into the night. He remembered looking out over a
similar parking lot when Adam had been hospitalized. “Don’t see that anyone can help
that much, though.”

He didn’t want to think about Adam or Ben anymore. There was nothing but darkness.
He turned around. “You see that picture in the paper this morning?”

“Yes,” she said, and walked to the table and picked up a magazine. “I’m working on
that.” She sat down and flipped the pages so fast she couldn’t have seen any of the
pictures.

He leaned back in his chair. “Well, it wasn’t a very—”

“Hospitable photo. I know,” she said.

In her expression in that picture, he saw a predisposition that told him she’d never
be okay with motorcycles. Much less ride on one. And if she’d never ride on one, he
didn’t think he could ever be with her. He knew he wasn’t a weekend warrior, like
Bertie. Motorcycles were a lifestyle for him. Always had been. Even if she could finish
up with the rally, he saw her problem as insurmountable for anything past it. Before
he could discuss what he saw in the photo, Bertie Houseman walked through the door.

“He’s bad. He’s really bad off this time. Needs to be flown out of here to where he
can get some special treatment because of a complication, but we don’t have a donor
or the funds for a critical care flight even if we did get a match.” Mr. Houseman
sat with his head in his hands.

April walked to the window. Bull knew that all she was going to see was black. Lightless,
lifeless darkness.
Little boys die
.

It was even more important now that they put aside their differences and whatever
happened in their pasts to work together to help Ben. No matter how difficult it was
going to be.

They couldn’t let him die, too.

…

What on Earth was going to become of Ben, and what could she do now?

It seemed as if all was lost.

She was of no use at the hospital, so she left and got home past midnight. For the
rest of the night, she tossed in her bed, wrestling with her pillows once again. Ben
needed blood and money.
Blood and money. Cotillions and tea parties. Fools and her job. Motorcycles and newspapers.
She fought the sleep that caused her head to nod twice. She had to figure something
out to help Ben, but she was so exhausted from the turmoil from the day that she lost
her battle.

The picture in the paper was surreal. It was moving in frames like one of those old
picture shows at the turn of the century. Some dangerous-looking motorcycle guy with
a darkened face was sitting across the table from the two-faced woman she couldn’t
recognize. The woman picked up her teacup and saw that it was filled with blood. She
threw the bloody cup on the floor, and the red liquid covered everything. The dark-faced
man slammed money on the table, hopped on his motorcycle, and careened through the
dancers at the cotillion and out the door.

April woke up in a cold sweat. She wasn’t going to be able to take any easy way out.
She had to go through this and come out on the other side—whole and healed.

She looked upward and closed her eyes. “Okay, I know what I’ve got to do.” And this
time, she really meant it.

On the drive to work, she came up with a plan. It was risky, and it wouldn’t matter
if she got fired. There were other jobs at other companies. Better jobs with even
better pay.

Anyway, she had been careful and had squirreled enough money away for a rainy day.
Risk assessment was more than a job to her. She had lived her life that way. Now it
was time to cash in on the policy of that careful lifestyle.

Speaking of rainy days, this one was not going to be one as the weatherman had forecasted.
A brilliant Carolina sun beamed rays of yellow and gold through a pink-and-purple
sky. Ben was going to be all right. It was a knowledge that suddenly came to her.
Shining and strong in pink-and-purple and yellow-and-golden words.

At work she made a couple of calls, then typed out an e-mail and sent it to everyone
in the building and everyone in her address book:

Ben Evans needs you now. He needs you to test to see if you may be a match to be his
bone-marrow donor. He needs your money, and most of all he needs your prayers.

She continued typing the who, what, when, where, and how of the donor testing she
had set up earlier that morning with one of the Humanity volunteers who was a nurse
at the hospital. At the end of the message, April announced all the details about
the bike-rally fundraiser and how she was involved.

That ought to give headquarters plenty to fire her over. It would be a shame if her
firing were merely marginal—over a picture in the paper and some office gossip.

All morning she’d violated her company’s workplace rules. No raising money in the
office. No controversial
anything
in the office. No private use of company time. She clicked send and pushed back in
her chair, satisfied with her message.

She started to type out a time sheet for people to sign up for the testing. Her friend
at the hospital said to give each person fifteen minutes. As soon as she sent the
document to the printer, Albert Morrison came to her door. “I want to sign up to be
tested,” he said.

Maybe she’d had him all wrong, too. Maybe there was more to him than met the eye—or
feet, as it were. “Great. Just a second.” She waited for the paper to finish in the
printer behind her. “Here’s the sign-up sheet. When we get that one filled up, I’m
going to print some more,” she said.

“I’m calling everyone I know,” he said as he signed.

Reaching out her hand to shake his, she said, “You’re a good man. Thank you.”

Edna, one of the receptionists, stood at April’s door. Hanna, the finance guru, stood
behind her. Then a line of people in the office formed behind her.

April thanked each one as he or she scribbled a name on the page. In minutes, she
printed out a few more sign-up sheets.

By lunchtime everyone in the office had signed up—everyone except Mandy. April was
sure she was taking notes for Charles—meticulous ones with copious details. April
didn’t care.

She worked doubly hard through lunch. She was also going to stay late to make up some
of her work. She probably wouldn’t have a job tomorrow anyway. And she needed to tidy
up the loose ends if someone else was going to take her place. Mandy had been gunning
for April’s position ever since she came on board with the company.

April left work at eight that evening.

Bull hadn’t called all day. When she last saw him at the hospital, he was having a
hard time being there. He needed some space.

He was also having a hard time with her photo in the paper. Her expression spoke volumes.
She could simply tell him she was going to change, but she wanted to prove it instead.

As she drove toward home, she called Jenna.

“Girl, I’ve been trying to reach you. I’ve been leaving messages for two days. Why
haven’t you returned any of my calls?” Jenna asked.

“I’ve been busy with Ben and with something else,” April said.

“Are you still working on that rally after Saturday night?” Jenna asked.

“I didn’t call to talk about that. I printed off a few fliers this evening. Do you
think you could put up a couple at the shop?”

“At our boutique and in every store on the square. Run them by tonight or e-mail a
copy and I’ll print some off on some left over card stock we have at work,” Jenna
said.

“That would be great. I’m exhausted this evening. I didn’t get any sleep last night.”
April yawned. “And one more thing. You’re going to help me with the rally.”

“You know how I feel—”

April cut her off. “I know how you feel, but you’re going to do it anyway. You don’t
have to ride a chopper or kiss a biker or anything. Unless you want to.” She paused
and smiled, thinking of the way Hogan fell all over Jenna at the silent auction. “Oh,
by the way, I think that guy, Hogan, from Saturday night, believes you’re the lid
to his pot.”

“Don’t you dare put down your guard and give him my number or something,” Jenna said.

“It’s too late for that. Guard is down. But if he gets your number, you’ll be the
one who gives it to him. I’ve got too much sizzling on my own plate to worry about
matchmaking you two,” April said.

“Good,” Jenna said.

“Then we’re in agreement. I won’t give Hogan your number, and you’re helping me with
the rally,” April said.

“That almost sounds like blackmail,” Jenna said.

“Whatever it takes,” April said. Jenna couldn’t see April’s smile. Or the resolution
that accompanied it. “See ya later.”

Oh, yeah. Whatever it takes.

…

Early the next morning, she woke and called in to work for a personal day. They would
do her no good anyway if she were to lose her job. She decided that Ben really needed
this day more than anyone.

All morning long, she placed calls and drummed up business for the donor testing.
The afternoon was spent running around town putting up fliers in every storefront
that would let her—and everyone let her. Jenna took care of the town square.

In the evening, April visited all the local restaurants and they also agreed to put
up the fliers. When she had visited the last establishment, she went home and once
again crashed and slept soundly.

When morning came, she stretched and knew she had to face the music at work. She’d
never been fired before. On the way to the office, she kept telling herself that everything
was going to be okay. No matter what.

After powering up the computer on her desk, she turned to put away her things, and
before she could even sit down, Charles was at her door.

“April, I need to see you in my office,” he said.

She inhaled slowly and then carefully blew out the breath. “Okay,” she whispered.

After walking into Charles’s office, she stood in front of his desk.

“Take a seat,” he said.

Maybe this was going to take longer than she thought.

He twirled back and forth in his chair. “You know why I went to corporate offices
the day before yesterday, right?”

She nodded.

“The strangest thing happened. We were in the meeting—and there were lots of questions.
For a couple of weeks, there had been unsubstantiated rumors. Someone had been misinforming
them about things.”

Mandy.

“Then in walks Mr. Huffman’s secretary, and she pulled something up on his laptop.
He tapped his fingers on his desk for a while and finally told us that we were all
barking up the wrong tree, and he told us about your e-mail and how passionate you
were about the little boy with leukemia,” Charles said.

“Ben is dying, and I admit I actually used company time that morning to send out the
information.” She wanted everything on the table “It was the right thing to do.”

“Well, Mr. Huffman got that. And he said that you were the only person in the company
who was truly following her heart about the Give Back program, his big pet project,”
Charles said.

“He said that?” She sat up straight.

Her boss continued to move his chair from side to side. “He said that you were obviously
dealing with the rally for Ben’s sake and that you should be commended. Then he wanted
to know who got this all jacked up and blown out of proportion.”

Before she realized any implications, she said, “Mandy didn’t know the whole story.”

“Mandy’s gone,” he said.

April had to pick her bottom jaw up off the floor. “She’s gone?”

“Fired her yesterday. And I’m supposed to offer you a ten percent raise and extend
an invitation to you to work for headquarters.” He stopped pushing back and forth
in his chair.

Her head spun. “I couldn’t possibly leave this area right now with everything that’s
going on with Ben,” she said.