Bikers and Pearls (19 page)

“You didn’t tell me,” April said and tried to draw in a breath, but her chest tightened
and a piercing bolt shot through her head.

“You remember Hogan,” Jenna said, placing her hand on the man’s shoulder.

The man stood. It was Hog. Clean cut and without his mullet. But that wasn’t the most
shocking thing. Jenna was working on a
motorcycle
.

“What are you doing?” April asked. The sun bore down on her head. She shouldn’t have
sipped that cup of coffee.

“That’s why I didn’t call you. I’ve been helping Hogan with this build off,” she said.
“I’ve been getting home late every night. Too late to call.” She grabbed April and
pulled her a few paces away. “I’ve been with him every waking minute since the tournament.”
Jenna smiled and whispered. “It’s like we’re inseparable or something.”

April didn’t know what to say to her friend. Her insides trembled when she thought
about Jenna riding on the back of that bike.

“I’m okay.” She hugged April, pulled back and held her at arms’ length. “Everything’s
going to be fine. Hogan is such a gentleman, and he’s very protective. He won’t put
me in any danger.”

“But—” April had no words. She glanced up at the sky and then back at her friend.

“We spent all last Sunday together. He brought white roses to the boutique on Monday.
Daisies on Thursday. I’ve eaten every lunch and dinner with him since—” She hesitated.
“Are you going to be okay?” She waved her hand in the air. “Bull, I think we need
to get April under some shade.”

As Bull took April’s right arm, she felt her legs turn into two tunnels of heat. Jenna
was building a bike? Jenna? April remembered the
thud
on the windshield from that night. The sound of the motorcycle grating on the asphalt
as it skidded alongside the car by her door. Her head exploded in pain. The same pain
that had put a gash in her head that night.

Bull helped April to one of the benches under a tree. Jenna came running up with a
bottle of water.

“Take deep breaths,” he said.

A herd of motorcycles rumbled around the front of the square again. The reverberations
filled her lungs so that no air could enter. She needed air. Where was the air?

“It’s all this heat,” he said.

“No. It’s the motorcycles. That’s why I didn’t call her,” Jenna said.

Another pain shot through her head and then the light around her peripheral vision
darkened.

…

Bull fanned April as she lay on the cot in the first-aid tent. A crowd of bikers had
gathered around to see what was going on. He hoped they would disperse before she
came out of it. He was certain she’d be mortified by all the attention.

Why hadn’t he realized the true extent of her anxiety before? Because he had fallen
in love with her. And hadn’t wanted to see it.

Her spell was going to save him from trying to find the words to tell her how he felt
about her today. It was going to take more than his verbal skills to get her beyond
all this. He regarded all the motorcycles around them.

She tried to sit up.

In a split second he was at her side.

“Lie down,” he said. “You just got overheated. Too much hot coffee.” He knew better.

She turned her head away from him. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“I know.” He rubbed her hand. She’d been embarrassed about things ever since she’d
first met him. He didn’t want to see her embarrassed ever again. “I’m taking you home
as soon as you can get up and walk.”

A tear leaked from her eye. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

No. He was sorry. Sorry that after he took her home, he may never have this chance
again.

It might take her a little while, but she could get over her “sorry.”

Bull may be sorry for the rest of his life if he couldn’t figure out a way to get
her over her fears. It wasn’t looking good. At all.

Chapter Fifteen

The morning of the rally’s bike run, April woke up as a searing pain shot through
her head. She ran for the bathroom and threw up. It was definite. She wasn’t going
back to the rally. Since yesterday, the heat and the coffee and the bikes and Jenna
tumbled around inside her. She couldn’t even stand the thought of the motorcycles
any longer.

Or couldn’t she stand the thought of not finishing what she had started for Ben? Or
the thought of not being close to Bull again?

One thing was certain. If her boss found out that she had reneged on her promise to
be at the rally every step of the way, he’d be plenty upset. Her stomach turned again.

The phone rang. It was Mr. Houseman. “How are you, dear?”

“Not so great.” At least she was on two feet.

“Don’t feel bad. Yesterday was the warmest day in April we’ve ever had. One of the
bikers working in the build-off nearly succumbed as well.”

That didn’t make her feel any better. “Anyway, I was wondering. Do you think you’ll
be able to play your accordion this morning? At the opening ceremony on the square.”

It was the perfect instrument. Portable and loud. “I don’t know if I can, Mr. Houseman.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want the heat to get to you again. We’ll make do. It’ll be a capella—if
we must. You just get yourself better.”

As soon as she hung up, the doorbell rang. It was Jenna.

“You look awful,” Jenna said, sprinting past her, heading for the refrigerator. She
grabbed a water and twisted off the top. “I wanted to check on you.” She paused. “You
are still coming today, right?”

“That’s not the question at hand here. What on Earth are you doing with that motorcycle?”

“It’s not the motorcycle. It’s Hogan. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to
me.”

The person in front of her didn’t
sound
like the same Jenna. In fact, she wasn’t even
acting
like the same Jenna.

“He even loves my voice-mail message. He calls just to listen to it when I’m busy
at work and he can’t talk to me,” she said. There was delight and tenderness as she
spoke about the man she was helping. “I don’t want you to worry about me today. On
the run to the Charleston Battery. Hogan takes very good care of me when we ride.”

April reminded her friend of all their previous conversations about the dangers of
motorcycles. “Are you sure about all this?”

Jenna stood tall. “More than—”

The doorbell rang again.

April closed her eyes. “Now who?”

She opened the door. A delivery guy was standing on her stoop with enough white lilies
in his arms to decorate for a funeral—or a very large wedding. It probably wouldn’t
be very long before she’d be needing them for Jenna. “Oh, my goodness,” she said.

“Special delivery.” The young man pushed the load of flowers toward her. “Very special.
We don’t deliver on Sundays. Usually.”

“Just a moment.” She grabbed a few dollars from her purse and gave them to him.

Jenna stood across the room still sipping on her water and smiling.

April placed the delicate white flowers on the table and opened the card:

Happy Birthday!

Please give me the chance to make you feel as tranquil as these flowers.

Always and forever grateful,

Bullworth Clayton.

April took a deep breath. He’d remembered her birthday. In fact, he was the only one.
She hadn’t even received a card or a call from her own parents. Yet. And Jenna was
standing right there and hadn’t mentioned a word.

But for what could he be always and forever grateful? It was she who should have been
grateful. She read the card again. After yesterday, she didn’t think tranquility was
in her near future.

“Come on. You don’t have to ride or anything,” Jenna said.

“No, I don’t.” She paused as she looked at the flowers and wondered what kind of “chance”
Bull was asking for. “Okay, I’ll meet you on the square,” she said.

Jenna squealed and hugged her friend. As she was headed out the door, she turned and
said, “Oh, by the way, Happy Birthday!”

After she put the flowers into water, she showered, dressed, and put on the jeans
she’d packed away in the chest at the foot of her bed.

Here goes nothing
.

…

Bull sat under the huge tent the bikers had set up for the morning kickoff, glancing
behind him to see if April had showed.

Bertie Houseman spoke. “Thank you all for helping and giving,” he said. “We are all
simply waiting on a miracle for Ben now,” he said.

Bull had waited his whole life and nothing grand had ever happened—until April. He
had waited too long to let go of the baggage he had been carrying since his little
brother had died. He had to help April get over her trauma, too. Like she’d helped
him. He had a plan. If April showed.

Bertie said the closing prayer to bless the bikers on their run. “During the ride,
let’s not forget why we are gathered here. For Ben. To lift his spirits—and the load
off his family.” He motioned for someone to pass out some papers. “This song is about
what we’re doing here. We’re gonna have to do it a cappella, but please join me in
‘You Raise Me Up,’” he said. As he started the first line, the sound of sweet, faint
notes from an accordion came from the behind the tent. A huge smile formed on Bertie’s
face. And Bull’s.

Bull left his eyes closed and let the music wash over him. The words of the song were
hopeful and uplifting.

And when the music was over, he saw April.

She was there waiting for him. He felt his own spirits being raised.

Bull rushed to her side. A huge smile spread across his face.

“I thought you might not be able to—” He started.

Pulling the accordion strap off her shoulder, she said, “I couldn’t let you finish
this alone. And I’ve got to help the ladies serve lunch. It wouldn’t be right not
to help. I’ve made promises.”

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” he asked.

“I’ve come this far, haven’t I? I just won’t have any hot coffee today.” She smiled.
“Anyway, I had to come and thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

He was so surprised to see her that he’d forgotten. “Happy Birthday.”

“How’d you manage to pull off a delivery on a Sunday morning?” she asked as she put
her cumbersome instrument in its box.

“You don’t want to know,” he said. It was worth every dime if they helped get her
back here.

“I’ll carry this to the car,” he said, closing the latch on the accordion case. He
didn’t want her to go passing out again. Before he had his chance to help her.

“That was the first time I’ve ever played that in public. Beyond my Humanity Project
friends.” She walked beside him. “I believe I’ve got some time before we start filling
the plates for lunch,” she said.

He put the case in her trunk, turned around, and held her squarely by the shoulders.
Looking into her eyes, he said, “We need to talk. I mean, I think we need more time
together to figure out what’s going on between us. I’m not going to lose you over
a motorcycle. I can’t. But you’re going to have to trust me on this, okay?”

She squinted and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

April didn’t know it yet, but before this day was over, she was going to ride on the
back of Bull’s motorcycle. It was the only thing he could think of to shove her over
the mountain of fear she’d been holding onto for so many years. Hair of the dog. It
had to work. It had to.

…

They agreed to talk more after the rally. She had to get to the lunch line as she’d
promised. As she set up, she kept watching Bull. The way his T-shirt pulled across
his chest. The way his biceps stretched his sleeves. The way his jeans dipped and
swelled in all the right places. She even enjoyed the way his arm flexed under the
reformed Rebel Angel tattoo. She could watch him forever. But how could that ever
happen if being around his world triggered her headaches? And she had to consider
her father.

She continued working beside Miss Ethel, Miss Ola, and Miss Velma, filling the plates
with barbecue for the bikers.

“That has got to be the best lookin’ potato salad I’ve ever seen,” a man with a spiked
watch said. His hair had leather strings woven into his braid.

“Thank you, ladies, for doing this for us,” said a man with a long black beard.

“Which one of you pretty girls can give me an extra roll?” asked a man with hair that
looked like the delicate gray Spanish moss hanging from the trees above them.

“That would be Miss Ola,” said April. “She’s our bread chick.”

Miss Ola’s green eyes lit up, and they all laughed. It had probably been years since
someone had called her a chick—if ever.

She enjoyed all the repartee with the bikers, but every time she thought about what
they were intending to do momentarily—get on hundreds of bikes and hit the road
—
she grew nauseous. She mustered all her strength to keep that image out of her head.
Masses of bellowing motorcycles. Exactly like that night long ago.

How was she to get her mind off all those motors starting, revving up and roaring
through town? Miss Velma. She could always calm April down.

“Miss Velma, what are you doing for the rest of the day?” April spooned more barbecue
onto a plate.

“I believe I’m going back home as soon as I finish up here,” Miss Velma said. “I must
admit, I’m a bit tired.”

“I can wrap things up,” April said. “Why don’t you go on home? The bikers are gearing
up to start the ride right after lunch.”

“I will, dear. First, I want to hear the announcements about the winner of the build
off,” Miss Velma said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the PA system crackled
and Crank was on a platform, addressing the bikers.

April looked up to see Bull, Hogan, and Jenna standing at the front of the throng
of people.

Her phone rang. The caller ID read Children’s Hospital.
Oh, my goodness
. “April, this is Purvis Evans. Ben wanted me to call you.”

She heard Ben call out in the background. “Tell her, Daddy! Tell her!”

“We got the news about fifteen minutes ago. They found a donor for Ben—someone who’d
signed up for the donor testing and the rally. It was a perfect match,” Purvis said.

The phone went silent for a moment. She stood, incredulous.

“The donor drive you organized has saved my son’s life,” he said. He cleared his throat.
“Thank you. Thank you from my whole family. Thank you for Ben.”

Joy filled April’s heart. Electric excitement overtook her body. She looked up to
see Ben’s grandfather, Patch, on the stage beside Crank.

“Does Patch know?” she asked.

“That was one reason I was calling. He’s hardheaded about getting a cell phone. Would
you tell him for us?” Purvis asked.

“I’d be honored,” she said.

Leaving all sensible thinking behind, she tossed her cell phone on the table and yelled
to Miss Velma as she ran. “Keep that for me!”

Miss Velma called out, “What’s wrong?” She came from behind the table.

April ascended the steps to the platform in front of hundreds of rally participants
and supporters and grabbed Patch by the arm. Completely out of breath after sprinting
across half the town square, she panted. “It’s happened! Finally, it’s happened!”
she yelled.

“What’s happened? What are you talking about?” Patch asked.

Crank stopped making his announcements and turned to look behind him at the commotion
on the stage.

“Purvis just called and said they found a donor!” There. It was out of her. Weeks
of stress and worry, too. And in its place, hope.

Patch’s hands flew in the air, and he lifted his face toward the heavens.

She repeated the news to Crank.

He shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He dropped the
microphone to his side and then raised it back to his face. “They’ve found a donor
for Ben,” he said. The words were choked with emotion. “You are truly riding for a
reason now. There is no more waiting.”

The crowd erupted in applause and yells. April hugged Patch and Crank. She looked
down to see Hogan, Jenna, and Bull caught up in a three-way embrace of elation.

Bull pulled away and held his hands up to April. Without a second thought, she reached
out and jumped into them—safely and securely.

He kissed her hard. She drew back and then pressed a soft kiss upon his lips.

“You are the reason this has happened. You had the faith,” he said.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he twirled her around.

When he put her down, Jenna and Hogan reached over and gave her a jubilant hug. She
turned back to Bull and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed.

Crank tried to quiet everybody down again. “We have a lot to be grateful for this
day. One team has a little more than the others of us. I need to announce the winner
of the Bikers for Ben Build Off.” He reached over to Patch, who still had a grin on
his face as wide as the Edisto River. Crank took an envelope from Patch’s hands. “The
winners of the build off are…” He paused for dramatic effect. “Hogan Thorpe, Jenna
Bellingham, and the crew at Thorpe’s Custom Cycles.”

Another group hug. Jenna squealed in such a high pitch that April almost needed to
cover her ears. She didn’t, however, because she wanted to experience every joyous
moment about Ben that hung in the air.

“Okay, bikers, start your engines!” Crank yelled.

She was caught up in the exultant crowd’s movement toward the bikes. Hogan, Jenna,
and Bull had April sandwiched tightly between the three of them.

April’s heart was still filled with praise for the miracle that had just happened
for Ben, so she hardly noticed that Hogan and Jenna had donned their helmets. Bull
turned to April with his on as well.