Let Me Fly (3 page)

Did he just say my room?
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I am not spending the night here. You can run your tests if you think it is necessary, but I do not want to spend the night. Where is Corey?” Bryn scanned the room for her best friend.

“I’m here, baby girl.” Corey appeared on the other side of her bed, his face ashen. “Please do as the doctor asks, honey. You passed out, blacked out, whatever and scared the shit out of me. I will stay here with you. It will be alright.”

“Bryn, unless you want to sign out against medical advice, you will be staying overnight.” Dr. Glynn’s voice had dropped an octave as he spoke, making her want to comply. He had turned his back to them both and was typing on the laptop sitting on the desk near the door.

“I’ll stay.”

Dr. Glynn quickly whipped around, his face set in a hard line. He took a deep breath, as he closed his eyes to ponder something. His lips curled up in a tight smile when he reopened his eyes. “Good girl. Let’s go ahead and start with a CT scan and a CBC.”

B
ryn lay in her hospital bed, a rhythmic drip coming from her IV. Her mother sat sleeping in the chair next to her bed, snoring softly as her head bobbed. Corey had left to take a shower, get a change of clothes and some pajamas for her. The god-awful gown the ER nurse had put her in made her grimace. Even worse was the IV that Dr. Glynn had insisted that she have. His findings were a simple concussion, but an overnight stay in the hospital was mandatory since she had blacked out.

When Bryn was getting checked in to her private room, Corey had taken it upon himself to call her mother to let her know what had happened. Figuring that there was no way to hide a stay in the hospital, he had given her abbreviated snippets of the truth, taking all the blame for Bryn being on a motorcycle.

When the nurses had finally left Bryn alone, tucked in tight in her hospital bed, Corey smiled at her after ending the call with her mother. “She isn’t happy at all, but I bet she won’t lay into you tonight. She’s happy that you’re okay. I can’t promise that she won’t change her tune tomorrow or the next day, but for now, you can relax.”

So here she lay, wishing to the heavens above that she could just go back to sleep until morning, be served a delicious breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes and then go home. Nope, she was stuck in a stinky hospital room, wide awake, red Jell-O sitting next to her on a cafeteria tray, locked in this damn room.

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Bryn tried sitting up in her bed, wincing at the pain in her left thigh. The ER nurses had to scrape dirt and rocks out of her thigh, leaving her skin inflamed and tight. Her cheek had gone from black and blue to angry purple. There wasn’t much swelling, but the pain was strong enough that she could feel her pulse pound in her temples. There would be no way that she would be able to get comfortable enough to sleep more than a few hours at a time. Refusing pain medication, Bryn was doing her best to deal with the pain. Not wanting to be high on pain meds, overrode the need to have a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure that she had made the right decision.

Reaching across to press the nurse call button, Bryn accidentally tapped her empty water bottle, sending it to the floor right at her mother’s feet.

“Bryn, what’s the matter?”

“I was going to call for a nurse. My head is throbbing and I can’t sleep anymore.” Grimacing from the effort, Bryn again tried reaching for the call button.

“This damn IV is a pain in the ass. I can’t reach the button. Mom, can you please get a nurse?”

Her mother’s lips turned up in a smug smile. “Maybe if you didn’t feel the need to ride a death machine, then you wouldn’t be here right now, would you, Bryn Marie Lonneman?”

Taking a calming breath, Bryn counted to ten in her mind before she answered. She knew that her mother was trying to bait her. “Don’t. I feel like shit, and I don’t want or need to have this conversation now, or ever. I know that you don’t approve, and I don’t expect you to understand. But I would please ask you to remember that I am twenty-two years old.”

“Yes, you are twenty-two years old, Bryn. Old enough to know better. You were lucky. Your uncle is dead and buried because of a motorcycle, and you would do well to remember that, missy.”

“Mom, Uncle Dan was riding a motorcycle in the rain, going ninety miles an hour around a curve. He was an adrenaline junkie. I ride for a completely different reason.”

“What reason would that be? Certainly not to please me. Your father is probably turning over in his grave, God rest his soul.”

Bryn winced at the mention of her father. He understood Bryn better than anyone did; he loved her without question. He would lavish his girls with hugs and kisses, while her mother stood stone-faced at the stove, ignoring them all. Bryn knew that her mother and father loved both her and her sister; they just had different ways of showing it. Her mother would make sure that supper was cooked, clothes were clean, and kept the cookie jar always stocked with delicious baked goods. Her father was extremely affectionate, always taking time out for some “sugar” and would listen intently to each and every one of her wild stories.

He also knew that Bryn was different; she didn’t conform to her mother’s guidelines for a young lady. She had spent more time in the barn with her father than she did in the kitchen. Bryn wondered if maybe her mother resented that her father didn’t share her views on how a young lady should behave. Since they did not have any sons, and there were always chores to do, Bryn was glad to fill those shoes. Being cooped up in the house did not appeal to her at all, never did. Fresh air, green grass, and wide open spaces that made her happy.

Just as Bryn was about to formulate her next argument, Corey stepped into the room. Looking between the tense faces on the two of them, Corey sighed. “I asked that you not start this tonight, Mrs. Lonneman. Bryn is aware of your feelings on motorcycles, as well as I am. Let’s get her feeling better, before you stand on your soap box, okay?”

“Corey James, I will be damned if you tell me what to do with my daughter. She is lucky, plain and simple. She could have been killed today, and you were helping her! I should have known that you were corrupting her this way. I thought she was smarter than this, but apparently not. Bryn, I am going to go home. While you live under my roof, you will abide by my rules. If you are going to come back to the farm, then you will drop this nonsense about riding a motorcycle. That is not a request.”

Bryn stared after her mother as she walked away, willing away her tears. There was no way to mask the hurt that she felt. Both she and her sister had given up everything to stay at home and help their mother. Sara had almost made it out, but Bryn had been weak, calling her home when things got too tough. Now, they were both stuck in Wisconsin, with just a basket full of dreams between the two of them. Sadness and regret swept over Bryn like a cold wind, her tears falling like rain. Corey quickly slid into her hospital bed with her, soothing her with soft words and tender kisses.

“She is never going to be ok with this, Corey. I owe it to Daddy to let it go. She won’t ever admit it, but she needs me. Plus, she would run Sara over like a freight train and crush what little bit of self-esteem she has regained since coming home.”

“Your father always understood that you were your own person, baby girl. You are never going to be happy on that farm. I have always told you that you are welcome to live with me in my apartment. There are always going to be reasons that you think you should stay there, when you
need
to leave. It is only when you leap, that you learn to fly.”

Snuggling in closer, Bryn rested her uninjured cheek on Corey’s chest. “I know, Corey. My head hurts so damn bad, and I just want to go to sleep.” Tears started sliding down her cheeks again.

“Why didn’t you just hit your pain pump?” Corey reached over to grab the button that hung from her IV stand.

“No!” she yelled as she fumbled for his hand. He was much quicker, depressing the button before she could even reach across his chest.

“I don’t even know what that shit is, Corey, but I don’t want it. I just wanted some regular over-the-counter Tylenol.”

“Too late, now, baby girl. Now shut up and close your eyes. We both need some sleep….”

His words faded away as she fell into a dreamless slumber.

G
od gave us memories so that we might have roses in December

The words on her father’s headstone gave Bryn little comfort. She had been sitting on the stone bench in the cemetery for almost an hour now, hoping that she could figure out what to do. Maybe her dad would silently point her in the right direction, or if nothing else, give her some reassurance.

On a beautiful Saturday, wanting some solitude after a crazy month, Bryn had been aimlessly walking around town. She was not used to living in town, all the noise at Corey’s apartment was making her crazy. Even worse, she spent her days indoors at Double M Harleys, her ass stuck behind a desk, staring at a computer. Luckily, her boss Mitch was beginning to trust her more, realizing that she did know a lot about the workings of a Harley, and not just how much they cost. Last week, he had even let her handle the specifications for a muffler rebuild. Even so, it wasn’t the same as working outside all day, every day. Restless would describe her current state of mind.

“Oh, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Her tears started to slip down her cheeks, as she said the words out loud. With no one to see her, Bryn let them flow.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I want. I. Just. Don’t. Know!” she screamed the last words as sobs racked her body.

Minutes crept by, until she heard the angry growl of a motorcycle. Bryn stood up from the bench, stretching her stiff legs out. Turning a complete 360 to find the source of the noise, she again heard what was obviously a Harley. Whipping her head back to the front of the cemetery, a beautiful fire-engine red Harley Davidson Softail Fat Boy pulled into the cemetery, spitting rocks backwards as the driver throttled the engine.

Nice.
That has to be a guy, that bike is way too heavy for a chick. A guy smart enough to wear a helmet.
Bryn didn’t have a helmet preference one way or the other, it depended upon the weather. After her accident, she did faithfully wear her helmet. Not wanting a repeat stay in the hospital was enough of an incentive to don her helmet every time.

After faltering on the gravel, the bike dropped down to a slower speed. The driver eased a few rows in to the cemetery, pulling up next to the baby section. After cutting the engines, the driver popped the kickstand down, but did not dismount. His head was angled down to the end of the first row of the tiny markers, indicating that he was focused on one in particular, since his head was locked in the same position.

Since there was only one way back towards town, Bryn would have to walk right past the bike and rider if she wanted to leave. She was more than ready to go home, but she did not want to disturb the man. Fearing that he was mourning the loss of his own child, Bryn wanted to leave him in private. She fell to the grass next to her father’s grave, lying back in the grass to enjoy the sun.

After a good half an hour, Bryn heard the bike spring to life, the engine revving. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she held still, willing the man to leave without coming up this way. She realized how silly she must look, sunbathing in a cemetery. Not wanting to sit on the cold bench again was more than enough motivation to stay in the warm sunshine.

The noise from the bike was getting louder, and Bryn could hear the crunch of the gravel under the tires now.
Oh shit, he’s here.

Bryn sat up quickly, as the visor flipped up on the sleek, black helmet. Blue-green eyes met hers from behind the shield, looking vaguely familiar. Switching off the bike, but remaining on it, he held it up with powerful, long legs. His standard black chopper boots looked fairly new, with a few scuffs and gouges, while his oily, frayed jeans were begging to be put out of their misery. Bryn had seen her father wear better jeans to clean the barns in. The bad boy look was finished off with a black skintight thermal shirt.