The Pastor's Wife Wears Biker Boots (9 page)

Aaron simply nodded. We let ourselves in the back door to the kitchen where Lily collapsed into tears as I held her.

Aaron rushed to calm Milo
, who yelled and paced in the living room.

I lifted Lily’s head off my shoulder and looked at her. “Let’s get some ice on that bruise.” I brushed the hair out of her face
and saw cuts and bruises on her jaw and forehead. Milo’s voice carried to the kitchen as I made an ice pack and helped Lily to a dining room chair.

“Get those rotten kids out of my house!”

“Milo, it’s Aaron.
”

“Aaron who?” Milo glared straight at Aaron
with a blank stare. Spittle rested on his beard and his red face shone with perspiration.

“Aaron Donovan, Pastor Aaron from church.”
Aaron held out the small Bible he carried in his pocket.

“Oh. Hi, Pastor. Those rotten kids are crawling all over our furniture. I don’t know why Lily let them come in here.”

“You know how women are, Milo. They can’t resist children. Your Lily has a soft spot in her heart for them
.”

“Yeah, I know it. But kids should mind their manners when they’re here.”

“Yes, they should. Would you like me to ask them to leave?”
Aaron guided Milo to his favorite chair and sat on an ottoman in front of him and looked into his face.

Milo nodded.
“Hurry up about it.”
His frustration and anger hung on his words. Milo had always been an impatient soul, but never angry.

“Children.” Aaron stood and spoke with authority to an empty room. “You need to leave now. Go on. Your time is finished here. It’s getting late, and Milo needs his sleep. Go.”
Aaron walked to the front door, opened it, and motioned for them to leave.

We all sat in silence. I held my breath. What would happen if Milo still saw children?

Lily held the ice pack to her face and wiped away tears.

“Thanks, Pastor, those kids were getting on my last nerve. A body can’t sleep with all that ruckus.”
Milo broke the strained quietness.

“That’s understandable. I’m sure they wore you out. Ready for bed now?”

“I peed my pants.”

“Not a problem, Milo, we can fix that. C’mon, buddy. Let’s get in the shower.”

My husband tenderly guided Milo to the shower. I blinked back a tear. Just a few short years ago, Milo was a prominent spiritual leader in our church. If the parking lot needed plowed after a snow storm or a door needed hung in the church, Milo was there
getting ’er done
. And if members were in the hospital or in need of prayer, Milo never hesitated to visit and pray with them.

“It must be breaking your heart, Lily, to see him like this.”
I rubbed her back slowly as we sat side by side in the dining room.

“Oh, Kirstie, you have no idea.”

“You do know you can’t keep taking care of him by yourself.”

“I won’t place him in a home.” She set the ice pack down with a thud and crossed her arms. “And I can’t afford twenty-four-hour care. The insurance will only pay for care during the day when I’m working. And then I pay out of my pocket if I want to ride with you and the girls.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Lily, we wouldn’t want you to be sacrificing like this just to ride with us.”

“But I need to, Kirstie. It’s the only thing I look forward to now.”

Lily laid her head on my shoulder and wept as I rocked her and searched for the right words to say. In the distance, I could hear Aaron talking to Milo and helping him with his shower.

“Who are you? Where’s Lily?”

“I’m Pastor Aaron, remember, Milo?”

“What are you doing in my bathroom? Where’s Lily?”

“She’s busy in the kitchen. She asked me to help you.”

Between washing his hair, showering, and toweling off, I heard Milo repeat the interrogation several times, and Aaron answer with the same patience and compassion each time.

Lily blew her nose and stood. “I need to find his medicine. I was getting it for him when he hit me.”

I followed Lily into the kitchen.

“Sweetie, it’s not safe here alone anymore. We can get people to come sit with you in the evening. You know that. I’ll come.”

“Kirstie, you have your hands full with those boys.”

“I’m not too busy for you and Milo. There are other options, Lily, and you need to consider them. I know it’s hard, but…”

Lily turned and faced me. Her piercing green eyes stared intently into mine. “Tell me something, Kirstie. If Timmy hit you, would you leave him in a home?”

I looked down at the floor and shook my head. “No. I could never do that.”

“Then you should understand why I can’t let Milo go
.”

She was right. I could never entertain the idea of Timmy in a home other than my own
. Not yet. Not now.

Lily and I helped Aaron dress Milo and tuck him into bed, and the three of us somehow, by the grace of God, talked Milo into taking his medicine.

As Lily and I tiptoed out of the bedroom, Milo grabbed Aaron’s arm.

“Stay here with me, Pastor.” For a short moment, Milo became lucid. “I don’t want them kids to come back and wake me up.”

“Those children won’t come back, Milo. And I’ll be glad to sit here until you fall asleep.”

I wrapped Lily in a blanket and made her a cup of chamomile tea. She looked exhausted.

“I will stay with you tonight, Lily, if you want me to.” I
tucked the blanket in around her legs and put clean socks on her feet.

“No, it’s not necessary, Kirstie. He’ll stay asleep until the nurse comes in the morning. I gave him a little extra Valerian root.”

Aaron walked quietly into the living room and patted Lily on the shoulder. “He’s finally asleep. Is there anything else you need, Lily?”

“Thank you, Pastor, but you’ve already done more than you’re required to do. I’ll be fine.”

“You and Milo are in my prayers.”
Aaron hugged Lily gently and patted her hand.

Aaron and I rode home in silence until we reached the edge of town. I looked over at my strong, silent husband. If he felt anything like I did, he grieved over the slow escape of his friend from our world.

“Aaron?” When I spoke, my voice cracked a little. “I’m so glad I married you. You are the kindest man I know.
”

A tear trickled down his cheek. I reached up to brush it away.

“I’m going to miss him.” Aaron squeezed my hand.

I stared down the dark country road and thought about Milo singing at the top of his lungs in the church choir, vibrantly teaching Sunday school, passionately leading the men’s group at church. I had many things I wanted to ask God about. I choked back a sob.

I rested my head on Aaron’s shoulder, and together we cried silently.

“
I’m going to miss him, too.” I lifted my head and looked at Aaron. “Remember when he pushed the Jesus donkey gently up the hill with the bumper of his car one Easter during the pageant because the donkey was too stubborn to climb it?”

Aaron laughed and wiped his cheeks free of tears. “I couldn’t believe he did that.”

I giggled. “Neither could the donkey.”

13

“We need a name for our group.”
I wiped down my windshield and gave the dead bug collection another squirt of cleaner. The girls and I were doing beginner maintenance on our bikes in Lily’s garage.

Reba stood up after removing the oil filter on her bike. “We’re not a group. We’re a club.” She removed the oil pan from under her Road King and bent down to fasten the hose.

Opal giggled. “Or a gang.”

“Yeah, like Hell’s Angels.” Lily grinned.

“That’s not even funny, Lily.” I threw my dirty rag at her. “I told you what Norman said at the meeting. Besides, it needs to be a name I can live with.” I dug a clean rag out of my saddlebag and polished the chrome on my tank.

“Who cares what they think?” Reba stood with one hand on her hip and a wrench in the other. “It’s your life.”

“It’s not my life, Reba. It’s His life, and I’m a reflection of Him, remember?
”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled. “But it’s not those church folks’ life.” Ever since Reba’s mother got kicked out of the choir for getting a divorce, she refused to set foot into a church. “Truth be told, those churchy folks are all hypocrites anyway.” Reba’s deep, throaty voice made her sound tougher than she really was.

Lily didn’t look up from shining her mirrors. “You’re right, Reba. They’re hypocrites. That’s why they need to be in church.”

Reba scowled and went back to changing the oil.

Opal walked over to watch the process. “How about Harley’s Angels?”
Opal handed Reba an old towel to wipe the oil off her fingers.

“Taken.” Reba wiped her hands, tossed the towel back to Opal
, and reached for her new oil filter.

I leaned over as she tightened it.

“How about the Electric Eels
since we live in Eel Falls.”

Opal shuddered. “Eels are kind of creepy.”

“Kind of like snakes.” Reba finished screwing the filter on. “I like it.”

“How about the pink ladies.” I pointed to my helmet.

“Forget that.” Reba waved me off. “I’m not joining any club with the word pink in it. I can barely tolerate looking at you wearing that sissy color.”

I smirked. “We could be the Old Saddle Bag
s.”

Opal punched my arm. “Hey, I don’t need that kind of help
.”

“I like the eel idea.” Reba snapped shut the lid to her toolbox.
My tools weren’t nearly as plentiful or fancy. I dropped them into the tool pouch hanging on the front of my handlebars.

“We could be Eels on Wheels.” I
turned my palms up to Lily.

“I want a name that makes it clear we’re women—no guys allowed.” Lily stuffed rags into her saddlebag and buckled the clasp shut.

“Lady Eels, then?” I tugged on the saddlebag belt and made sure it was tight. “Although I don’t really relish being thought of as an eel.”

“I don’t mind.” Opal shrugged. “At least they’re skinny.”

“True.” I nodded.

“Yeah, it’s better than being hogs.” Lily helped Reba maneuver the Road King off the bike stand.

“Lady Eels on Wheels.” I repeated the phrase and looked up at the rafters trying to imagine
how to draw one.

“Might be too much to go on a patch.” Reba grunted as she set the kickstand to her bike.
“But I kinda like it.”

“A patch?” I turned toward Reba.

“If we’re a motorcycle club we need to pick colors and design a back patch.”

Opal pointed at me. “Kirstie’s the artist. She can design it.”

“Gee, thanks.” I wiped chrome polish off my hands onto my old jeans. “You’ve given me so much to work with here. I don’t relish being an eel. It’s not exactly feminine.”

“Who says we have to be feminine?” Reba cocked an eyebrow my direction.

“Well, no one. But I don’t see any reason to leave behind our womanly ways simply because we ride motorcycles. I like being a girl. I want to celebrate my femininity. And when people see us driving down the road, I want them to know we’re a girl club, not a guy club.”

“True,” Lily agreed. “Sounds good to me.”

“Kirstie, honey, with your curves, there’s no way someone is gonna mistake you for a guy.” Reba winked at me and lit a cigarette.

“You’re just jealous.” I grinned and struck a supermodel pose.

At five ten Reba was slender, flat-chested and statuesque. I was five three and as curvy as a Smoky Mountain switchback.

“Let’s talk about colors. What will our colors be?” Lily asked.

Everyone looked at Reba. We knew the colors would have to meet her standards since she wasn’t a girlie girl. She wouldn’t like anything we picked, anyway.

“Purple’s good.” Reba surprised us. “It’s kind of feminine but not prissy.
And it goes with silver, as in chrome.”

“Ohhh, yeah, silver, that’s good.” I nodded and leaned on my bike. “What do y’all think?”

“I like it.” Opal nodded. “Matches my hair and silver goes great with my bike, too.”

“OK, then. We’re purple and silver biker ladies.” I looked at everyone for a consensus.

“You mean eels.” Lily groaned.

“Lady Eels on Wheels.” Opal sat with her hands on the throttle and
clutch.

“Eels on Wheels,” Reba laughed. “The name’s horrible. But I kinda like the idea.”

“I’ll get busy on the patch.” I turned the key and started my bike.

“This I gotta see.” Reba shook her head. “There’s no way you can come up with anything I’ll approve of.”

I revved the engine and shouted over the pipes. “Never say never, my friend.”

****

Two days later we met at the KenapocoMocha coffeehouse after a two-hour practice in the church parking lot.

“You can’t just make a patch and stick it anywhere.” Reba sucked up the bottom of her raspberry tea, stood, and reached for a refill from the soda dispenser next to our table.

“Why not? It’s a free country.” I chewed on some ice.

“It’s a free country, but there are rules in the biker world.” Reba sat down across from me again. “If you want the other clubs to respect you, you have do it right.”

“I don’t know if I want to belong to a group with a bunch of rules.” Lily stirred her drink with a straw. “I have enough of those in real life. I’m doing this for fun, not so I have more stress.”

“Don’t worry, Lily,” I said. “It’ll be less painful than paying taxes.”

“Show us whatcha got.” Reba pointed to my sketchbook.

I opened the cover and pulled out different sketches of an eel sitting on a motorcycle wearing a little helmet. One of them was riding fast; others were striking poses like models in biker magazines. Another wore a leather jacket, and a couple sported tanks and chaps.

“It’s kind of hard to draw chaps on an Eel when he isn’t a biped.” I sighed.

“I like the one with the little tattoo on his fin.” Opal
pointed to a sketch in front of her.

“Where?” Reba
grabbed the sketch and held it to her face.

“She’s joking.” Lily laughed. “None of them have a tattoo.”

“Well, that’s the next thing we gotta do as a club, you know.” Reba looked at me
.

“What?
” I dreaded what Reba might have us do next.

“Tattoo. We all gotta go down and get a tattoo of an eel on our wrist. All at the same time. It’s how we bond as a club.” She made motions with her hands as if she was revving her bike.