“Yep. They keep the gremlins away from you.”
“Gremlins?” Was I hearing her right?
“Yeah, you know, evil road spirits.”
“Evil road spirits?” Boy was I glad Aaron wasn’t here.
“Yes. Motorcycle gremlins love to ride, but they cause all sorts of problems when you’re on the road. Remember that man who cut you off in traffic, Opal?”
“Yeah…” Opal whispered.
“Motorcycle gremlin. And, Lily, remember when you couldn’t get your bike out of neutral into first gear at the light?”
Lily nodded.
“Motorcycle gremlin. And Kirstie, that time you couldn’t get your turn signal to turn off…
”
“Hold it right there, Reba. You’re scaring these ladies to death. Get to the point.”
“You spoil all the fun, Kirstie.” Reba whined. But she was enjoying herself. “When someone gives you a bell, you hang it on your bike, and it wards off the attacks from the gremlins.”
“Oh, yeah, like that insurance commercial.” Lily laughed.
“Exactly,” Reba smiled. “If the gremlins are already riding with you, they get trapped inside the bell, and the ringing drives them so crazy they lose their grip and fall off. Now, if you buy your own bell, the power’s still there, but if you are given a bell, then the power’s doubled.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Reba
.” Opal didn’t sound convinced. But at least she tried.
I looked at my bell and wondered what to do. Should I hang it on my bike and pretend I believed in gremlins? If I didn’t, would Reba be offended?
From the darkness of the trees, I heard a cough. “Did you hear that?” I looked at the other girls.
“Hear what?” Lily admired her little bell.
“That cough. I could have sworn I heard a cough from somewhere in those trees.”
“I didn’t hear anything. Oh, Reba, I love this tinkly little thing.” Opal flicked at her bell to make it ring.
I must have imagined the cough.
“All your bells are different,” Reba said. “Lily, your bell has a rose on it and says Lady Rider. I got that one for you because of your garden.”
“Aww, thanks, Reba.”
Lily gave Reba a hug, and Reba embraced her so hard Lily gasped for air.
“Opal, I gave you one with an eagle on it because you’re just learning to fly, and once you do, you’re gonna soar.”
Opal looked closely at her bell and back up at Reba. “Thanks, Reba. I hope so.”
“There ain’t no hopin’. Two weeks ago you’d have never gotten out of your neighborhood. Now look at ya—you’ve done your first group ride, and you lived to tell the tale.”
“Do these things scare deer?” Opal asked.
“’Fraid not.”
“Rats
.” Opal stuck out her bottom lip and pretended to pout.
“And you, Kirstie, well, I think you know why yours says what it does.”
I pulled out my reading glasses and looked closer at my bell. It had a cross on it and said “Jesus” inside the shape of a fish.
Well, well. The old girl listens.
“Thanks, Reba.” I hugged her neck and kissed her cheek.
“Sure, honey,” she said. “I’m not a heathen, you know. I did go to church once.” She seemed almost wistful. “I know Who protects you when you ride. Me, I’m not so sure anymore.”
“Oh, but He does, Reba.”
“If you say so.” She shrugged and showed us where to hang the bells on our bikes.
“Most people hang them low on the frame somewhere just behind the front wheel.”
But we all decided to hang them where we could see them. I hung mine from my handlebars. I wouldn’t hear it ringing, but that was OK because I knew Who it was that protected me on the road. And so did Reba.
“Now, it’s time to announce your bike’s name,” Reba said. She turned to her own bike. “Of course, you’ve already met Linus.”
She gestured toward her motorcycle like a model on a runway, gesturing to a crowd.
“Hi, Linus,” the entire class chorused.
I felt rather foolish and wondered if Lily and Opal did, too.
“OK, Lily, you go next.”
“Ladies.” She leaned up against her motorcycle seat. “I would like you to meet Plum Crazy.”
“Hiya, Plum.” We all waved and laughed. It fit her purple Magnum to a T.
“Opal?”
Opal ran up to her bike and stood behind it with a huge grin.
“It gives me great pleasure, dear friends, to introduce you to—Firefly.”
“Opal. That’s a perfect name for a little red motorcycle.” I clapped and cheered. It was odd, but somehow, those bikes did take on a personality of their own after
we named them.
“And now, Kirstie, would you please introduce us to yours?”
Reba pointed to my bike, and I walked over to it.
“Ladies.” I turned to face them and smiled at their expectant faces. I couldn’t believe I stood here among such sweet friends, being silly in the woods, participating in a motorcycle-naming ritual. A year ago, I’d never thought it possible. I turned and admired my beautiful bike, drinking in the idea that she was mine. Really mine.
“Well? Are you gonna tell us her name or not?” Reba wasn’t a patient woman.
“Hurry up.” Opal slapped at her arm. “I’m getting ate up out here.”
“Shhh. Let her speak.” Lily smiled at me and gestured for me to go on.
I got on the back of my bike and hugged the gas tank and felt the smooth cool metal on my cheek. I sat up and ran my fingers along the handlebars.
“So? Are you gonna tell us or not?” Reba popped her gum and parked her hand on her hip.
I smiled.
“It will come as no surprise what I’ve named her. It’s exactly what she is to me.”
“So she’s a girl?” Opal laughed.
“Yes.” I nodded. “She’s a girl.”
“And her name?” Lily asked.
“Her name?” I fluttered my eyelashes like a coy school girl. “Her name is Heaven
.”
8
“Aaron, hurry up. We’re going to be late.” I wrestled with the cowlick on the top of Timmy’s head
with hair gel gooped between my fingers.
“Late, Aaron.” Timmy
giggled.
Patrick walked in, his face scrunched up with worry. “Mom, tell Dad to come on. I can’t be late for practice.”
“Go on out to the van. He’ll be down in a minute. Timmy, go get in your seatbelt
.” I patted him on the back and guided him toward the stairs.
“Seatbelt. Seatbelt, Patrick!” Timmy hollered
as we walked down the stairs.
“I know, Timmy. I know. Be quiet.” Patrick
hated it when Timmy bossed him around.
“How do I look, Mom?” Danny met me in the living room.
I sucked in my breath.
My handsome little man. So independent, dependable, and talented. I was more than blessed
with this boy.
“Honey, you look very handsome. Will you promise not to let any of the girls kiss you tonight?”
“Mom!” He turned as red as
the hair on his head. He picked up his violin case, and we all headed out to the car as Aaron descended the stairs buttoning his sleeves.
“I completely forgot about this recital.” He tripped on the bottom step and turned around to look at it.
“I added Danny’s recital on your phone calendar,” I said. “But you have to actually look at the thing for it to remind you.”
I smiled at my absent-minded-professor husband. He lived in his head. I had forgiven him a long time ago for his forgetfulness, but it was a long time before I understood and appreciated that part of his personality.
Finally, we all piled in the car.
Timmy, excited as usual to be going somewhere
, hummed and flicked his fingers in front of his eyes.
“Timmy, be quiet.” Patrick pushed at Timmy. “You’re annoying.”
“Patrick, cut it out.” I raised my voice just a little. “You’re beginning to annoy
me
.”
“What about him? Make him stop making those noises. He only does it to push my buttons.”
Why did I constantly need to remind Patrick of Timmy’s limitations?
“Then don’t let your buttons show.” I kept my voice soft and low.
Patrick just shook his head and looked out the window.
He was drifting away from me.
Timmy had drifted away at the age of 18 months when he suddenly lost all his speech and stopped making eye contact. But Patrick was drifting for other reasons. And I needed to find out why.
We pulled up to Patrick’s friend’s house, and he took his guitar out of the back of the van.
“Don’t bother picking me up,” he said. “Nadia is taking me home.”
“Who’s Nadia?” I asked.
“Yeah, who’s Nadia?”
Aaron looked at Patrick, who stood by his window.
“James’s big sister,” Patrick said.
“How old is she?” I was worried. Patrick had never been in a car alone with a girl before.
“Eighteen
, Mom. She’s too old for me.”
“Well, OK. But be home by ten o’clock. No later.”
“Mom, c’mon. It’s Friday night.”
“And you’re only fifteen years old,” Aaron said. “Ten o’clock. Period.”
“Fine.” He turned around and walked away with his shoulders hunched in frustration.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately.
” I leaned my
head against the hard window, a clear barrier against the outside world. If only I could build such a barrier between my children and the roiling emotions of growing up.
“It’s called cutting Mama’s apron strings.” Aaron hid my hand in his.
“You think so?” I cradled his hand in both of mine. “But I don’t baby him.”
Aaron sat silent.
I wondered what that meant.
At the recital, I turned Timmy’s iPod on to his favorite playlist and helped him with his earphones. He couldn’t handle the high tones of the instruments and would hold his ears and scream if he didn’t listen to something else. He turned up his favorite songs on his iPod while Danny and the other students played.
I was bursting with admiration at Daniel’s performance. He played every note with skill and perfection. He was, in a word, brilliant.
“Danny have much talent. He work hard.” His teacher, Miss Lyang, originally from Japan, smiled and bowed in front of me after the recital. We all loved and applauded her skill as a teacher and musician.
“Yes, he does work hard. But he has a good teacher, too. I want to thank you for all your hard work.
”
“My pleasure.” Miss Lyang
bowed again and turned to speak to other parents.
I gave Danny a big hug. At least my baby was still willing to let his mom show him affection in public. I was keenly aware of how soon my brood would leave the nest. Well, except for Timmy. But his hugs were few and far in between.
“Oh, Danny, your performance was splendid.” I kissed his freckled forehead.
“Thanks, Mom. Can I have a cookie now?”
“Sure
.” I laughed.
He had no inklings of his gift. He just loved to play.
“Good job, son.” Aaron hugged Danny and messed his hair. “Your Grandma Donovan would be proud.”
“Did you video it so I can post it online for Grandma?” Dann
y loved talking to his grandma online.
“I got every note,” Aaron said.
Danny chattered all the way home, and Timmy mimicked him and clapped.
It was ten thirty by the time we arrived and found the house completely dark.
“Maybe Patrick’s in the basement watching a movie.
” At least I hoped he might be.
Goliath met us at the door and begged to be let out. As I pushed him out the back door into the fenced yard, I hollered down the basement stairs.
“Patrick?”
No answer.
I prepared a snack for Timmy as Daniel fed Goliath and Aaron paced in the living room.
“He’s not going to get here any faster just because you keep looking out the window.” I gave Timmy his fruit cup and unloaded the dishwasher.
“Maybe we should call someone.” Aaron sat on the couch and flipped on the TV.
A car pulled up.
I finally let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“You’re late.” Aaron met Patrick at the door.
“Only an hour.” Patrick shrugged.
“Your mother and I said ten o’clock.”
“What’s the big deal? It’s only eleven.”
“Eleven ten. It matters because we want to be able to trust you, Patrick. If you want more privileges when you get older, you need to be home when we tell you to be home.”
“Whatever,” Patrick said, heading toward the stairs.
“Come back here.” Aaron pointed to the floor in front of him.
“Aaron.” I touched my hand to his arm. “Maybe…”
“No, Kirstie. Let me handle this.”
I left the room and took Daniel and Timmy upstairs.
Friction existed between Aaron and Patrick. They were worlds apart. I didn’t mean to interfere with Aaron’s parenting, but I didn’t always agree with his harsh tactics.
“Time for bed boys,” I said. “Tomorrow you’re gonna help Mom practice her motorcycle.”
“Cycle! Cycle!” Timmy spun in place and clapped.
Daniel giggled.
“‘Night, Mom
.” Daniel gave me a big hug and kissed me on the cheek.
“‘Night, night Daniel
. Daddy and I are very proud of you.”
As I readied Timmy for bed, I could hear raised voices down in the living room. Only one person in the world could cause my mild-mannered husband to lose his cool, and that was Patrick.
I loved them both. And I saw each of their points of view, but living with the constant strain between the two of them created tension in the home. Patrick’s attitude scared me. I think it frightened Aaron, too. We’d never parented a teenager before. Were we doing things all wrong?
Finally, as I got ready for bed, I heard Patrick slam the door to his room.
Aaron walked into the bedroom and looked at me, shook his head, sat on the edge of the bed, and sighed. “I don’t know how to reach him.” He held his head in his hands. “He has an answer for everything. He can justify all his actions. And he really doesn’t think we know what we’re talking about.”
“Sounds like a teenager to me, honey.” I sat beside Aaron and draped my arm around him. “All we can do is keep loving him and praying and guiding him the best we know how.”
“I don’t know why I let him get to me. Every day I tell myself I’m not going to lose my cool, and then he says something or pushes a boundary and I…”
“Shhhh. You’re tired. Everything will look better in the morning.” I patted him on the shoulder and stood up. “C’mon. Time for bed. You have a big day tomorrow.”