Clutch: Satan's Fury MC (4 page)

“Have fun with that,” he heckled. “Think I’d rather stay here with all the raging hormones. Better get going. Going out on a run in the morning. I’ll check in with you in a few days. Try to stay out of trouble.”

“Always,” I answered before hanging up the phone.

I finished filling my tank and headed out to the highway. I made it to Caruthersville before nightfall. Not much had changed in the last four years since I’d been home. All the familiar hangouts were still intact, even those like the Rib Shack that should’ve been closed down years ago. When I pulled into my parents’ driveway, I noticed that all of the lights were on and my mother was standing at the kitchen sink looking out the window. A huge smile spread across her face when she spotted me, and I hadn’t even made it off my bike before she was racing down the steps and rushing towards me. The years had been good to her. She was still as beautiful as I remembered, tall and lean with her dark brown hair cut short around her face. Her dark green eyes sparkled as she ran over to me with her arms spread wide.

Once she had me in her arms, she cried, “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“Told you I was coming,” I teased.

She put her hands on my shoulders, giving me one of her reprimanding glares, and huffed, “Don’t get cute with me, Thomas. It’s been too long. I’ve missed you something awful.”

I leaned towards her, kissing her lightly on the cheek, and said, “I’ve missed you too, Mom.”

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to call your mother from time to time and let her know how you’re doing,” she fussed. Before I had a chance to defend myself, she said, “I’ve just made a batch of chicken and dumplings. You hungry?”

Choosing to ignore her comment about calling, I smiled and answered, “Hell yeah. I’m always up for your chicken and dumplings.”

“Grab your stuff and I’ll get you some warmed up,” she ordered as she started back towards the house.

“Hey,” I called out to her. “Is Dad in the garage?”

She nodded as she pointed to the back door. “He’s been out there since he got home from work. Has a project he’s been working on. Maybe you could help him out, but don’t take too long. I’ll have your dinner ready in a few minutes.”

“I won’t be long,” I told her as I got my stuff out of my saddle bag and headed towards the garage. When I walked in, I was welcomed with the view of my father’s backside. He was leaning over the hood of a 1946 Ford F1, completely oblivious that I’d even walked up next to him. I glanced over the body of the old beat-up truck, immediately thinking that he’d lost his mind trying to salvage it. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in the past fifty years, but if I knew my dad, he’d find a way to get it up and running.

I dropped my bag to the floor and said, “Hey, Pop.”

He jolted upright, slamming the top of his head against the hood with a loud clank, then shouted, “Damn it all to hell!”

I chuckled under my breath as I watched him rub his balding head with his calloused hand. When he looked over at me, I pressed my lips together, trying to hold back my laughter. It had been a year since I’d seen him, but he looked the same, just a few extra wrinkles around the eyes.

With his hand still on his head, he barked, “You did that shit on purpose, didn’t you?”

Shrugging, I laughed. “Who?
Me?
You know I’d never do anything like that.”

He cocked his eyes over in my direction and said, “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve given me a damn headache. Now, come over here and give your old man a hug.” I walked over to him and he gave me a tight squeeze as he said, “Been too long, son.”

I took a step back and replied, “Yeah, it has.”

“You doing okay?”

“Been making it alright.”

He gave me the once-over and said, “You look like hell. Wish you’d think about staying home this go-round. From the sounds of it, things at that club of yours have gotten a little sketchy.”

Feeling instantly on the defensive, I retorted, “Things are just fine back at the club, Pops.”

“You almost got yourself killed. Things are not fine, Tommy.”

Dad always called me Tommy when he was trying to make a point. It always got under my skin, but I tried to just let it go so we didn’t have another one of our rounds about the club. “I’m standing here, aren’t I? I’m good. Not moving home because I had a run-in with an asshole with a twitchy finger.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about assholes with twitchy fingers if you were working here with me.” He held up his hands high in surrender as he cackled, “I’m just saying.”

I shook my head and answered, “It ain’t gonna happen, Pops, so just let it go.”

“The invitation is always there. You are welcome here anytime.” He gave me a light pat on my shoulder and said, “Let’s go inside and get you some dinner and a shower. Your mother made your favorite.”

I nodded and followed him into the house. Mom had moved some of the furniture around trying to make the tiny house look a bit bigger, but her effort hadn’t made much difference. It still felt small, but it was home. I smelled the dumplings simmering in the kitchen and my stomach promptly started to growl with hunger. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a real home-cooked meal, so I eagerly walked into the kitchen. I pulled out a chair and sat down at the same round table we had when I was a kid and waited for mom to finish making my plate. As I sat there, I realized it was much quieter than it used to be when I was growing up. I missed the sounds of my sister Molly shouting from her bedroom telling my mom that she’d be there in a minute and the loud rumble of dad’s football game blaring from the TV down the hall. There was always some kind of commotion going on around us and sitting there in the silence made me a little homesick for the way things used to be.

Mom placed the steaming bowl of chicken and dumplings in front of me and asked, “You want some sweet tea?”

“Did you make it or did Dad?”

“I did.”

I smiled and replied, “Then, yeah. I’ll take some of yours.”

She laughed as she poured me a large glass. “His isn’t
that
bad. He just doesn’t put enough sugar in it.”

“Mom, it tastes like he made it with a dirty sock and then added a bunch of lemon and sugar so he could hide the funky taste. It’s bad, and you know it.”

She sat down beside me as she shook her head. “I don’t know what he puts in it, but you’re right. It is pretty bad,” she admitted, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table to rest her chin in the palms of her hands. She just sat there, silently staring at me as I shoved a huge helping of dumplings into my mouth.

After a few long seconds, I finally said, “Something on your mind, Mom?”

“No. I’m just soaking you in. It does my heart good to be next to you.” She smiled. “Don’t mind me, honey. You won’t understand until you have a child of your own.”

“That’s not happening anytime soon, so I’ll just take your word for it.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “There’s no special girl in your life? As handsome as you are, you should have the pick of the litter.”

My gut twisted into a knot as Cassidy came flashing through my mind for the first time in weeks. I wanted to keep it that way, so I decided to avoid her question by asking, “How’s Pip doing?”

Neither of them had mentioned her in the last few phone calls, and I hadn’t seen hide nor tail of her since I’d gotten home. Usually she was right up underneath us making sure everything was as it should be, and not seeing her had me worried that something was wrong.

“She’s fine. She locked herself away in her room earlier tonight so she could watch her show without your father interrupting her every five minutes with one of his silly questions.”

“She doing okay?”

“I don’t know. She’s hanging in there. She’ll never admit it, but she’s had a rough go of it these last few months. She’s starting to forget things … can’t remember things that just happened a few days ago. One day, she couldn’t remember my name. That one got to her bad. It got me, too. I felt so sorry for her, which only made her mad.”

“You think she’ll remember me?”

“Only one way to find out.” She smiled. “But I feel certain that she will remember you. I mean … you were always her favorite around here, but I was the one always doing for her. You were the one always whining.”

I raised my hand in defense and chuckled. “Hold up! I was talking to her about things,
not whining
. And I actually
listened
to her when she gave advice. That’s why she loved me,” I boasted.

“You’ve never listened to anyone, Thomas, and you know it. But she loves you. Always has and always will.”

After I took the last bite of my dumplings, I stood up and took the bowl in my hand. “I’m gonna go see her before she goes to bed.”

After putting my bowl in the sink, I started for my grandmother’s room down the hall. She’d moved in with my folks a couple of years back when her health started to decline. Even though she wasn’t as strong as she used to be, she’d never lost her spirit and fussed anytime mom tried to help her. After hearing that she’d become forgetful, I found myself a little uneasy as I tapped on her door. When I walked in, I found her sitting in her favorite recliner with her eyes glued to the television screen. I was surprised to see how frail and weak she looked. Her skin had become almost translucent, and dark veins and bruises covered her thin, frail arms. I’d seen lots of old people throughout my life, but I’d never thought of my Grandma Pip as old or elderly until that moment. It pained me to see her look so feeble and weak. When she noticed me standing in the doorway, her eyes lit up and a wide smile spread across her face. She remembered me.

“Thomas! Is that really you?” she beamed.

“Yeah, Pip. It’s me.”

“Well, it’s about damn time. I thought you’d forgotten about me. I was beginning to think the next time I saw you would be at my funeral,” she teased.

I leaned over her and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Ah, don’t be like that. You know I could never forget about my favorite gal. Besides, you’ll probably outlive us all.”

“God, I hope not. I’m ready whenever the good Lord’s willing.”

I sat down beside her. “It’s good to see you. How are you doing?”

“From the looks of it, I’m doing better than you,” she scoffed. “What’s with the sad eyes and that hair? Looks like you haven’t been to the barber in months.”

I ran my hands through my hair, brushing the long strands from my eyes. “Just tired. I’ve been on the road for a while.”

She frowned sternly. “Don’t go trying to pull the wool over my eyes, young man. I may not be as keen as I used to be, but I always know when you got something weighing on you. And from the looks of it, you haven’t gotten a hold of it yet.”

I leaned back in my chair and spent the next half-hour telling her everything that had transpired with Cassidy—how I’d fallen head over heels for her even though I knew she was in love with someone else … and that someone else just so happened to be the president of my club. I explained my reasons for leaving and told her that I’d take the last few weeks to sort through my shit, but when I looked at her, I could see the wheels turning in the back of her mind.

She sat quietly, listening to my entire story, only nodding from time to time to let me know that she was paying close attention to everything I was saying. Once I was done, she sat there staring at me intently as she thought about everything I’d said. Finally, she eased herself forward, looking at me square in the eye, and proclaimed, “Not so sure you really loved that girl, Thomas. I mean, it’s obvious that you cared about her—probably cared a great deal for her. But loved her? No … I’m not so sure about
that
.”

“I loved her. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

“No, Thomas. Not this girl. She wasn’t the one. You’d know it if she was. When you find the girl that grabs ahold of your heart and holds on so tight that it makes you feel weak yet stronger at the same time … a girl that captivates your every thought, your heart and your
soul
, to the point that you feel like you can’t breathe without her … when you actually
ache
for this woman,
then
you are in love, Thomas. And when you find a love like that, you don’t walk away from it. You fight for it. No matter what it takes, you fight for that love and you hold on to it with everything you’ve got.”

I banged on Charlie’s door for the second time and shouted, “Let’s go! Move it or lose it. We’re gonna be late!”

“I know! I’m coming!” he grumbled.

I scurried down the hall while tugging my hair into a ponytail and called out to Hadley, “You’ve got three minutes, squirt! We need to get rolling.”

I looked over at the clock, and it seemed to be mocking me as I rushed around gathering the kids’ backpacks and lunches. No matter how hard I tried, our mornings were always hectic. Mainly because I was always anxious and pushed them to hurry up knowing that if we were late in the morning, even by just a few minutes, we would be scrambling for the rest of the day. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to get us caught back up; something always kept dragging us back down.