Travel with the aunts, p.15
Travel with the Aunts, page 15
Their entrance into the murky interior of the restaurant/bar brought a spreading silence except for the ‘60s oldies blaring from a colorfully lit up jukebox. Heads turned, beards waggled, leather creaked, and chains rattled as twenty or more pairs of eyes swiveled to take in the new arrivals.
All male, Allison noted.
The bartender broke the silence. “What’ll ya have, ladies?”
Josie strode forward. “We’re here for lunch. It looks like such a popular place. The food must be excellent.”
Smirks all around, though the bartender looked almost pleased.
“I’ll have your house beer,” Josie finished, mounting one of the free stools at the bar.
Now it was the bartender’s turn to smirk. “House beer, huh? Well, that would be our Black Devil, produced at a local microbrewery. It’s a dark beer.”
Josie nodded. “Perfect.”
Daisy was next to choose a stool. “What have you in wine? I’d prefer a dry red if you have one.”
Snickers.
“No wine, lady. Beer, ale, lager, schnapps, whisky, vodka. . . ” His list trailed off.
“A light beer, then.”
Another smirk. “Watching your girlish figure, are you?”
“I stopped watching that years ago,” Daisy smirked in return. “I’m watching my matronly sprawl at this point.”
The bartender chuckled and turned his attention to Rosie, who was scanning the room. “And you, missy?”
Allison jumped, but the bartender was focused on Rosie.
“Butter beer, please.”
Thundering silence.
Then a beard parted, and laughter boomed out. “Butter beer? Like in Harry Potter. She must be a witch!”
Daisy swiveled on her stool toward the voice and announced with pride, “No, she’s a Wiccan. She has an ivy plant and everything.”
Deepening silence, punctuated by unsure creaking leather.
Again, the bartender came to the rescue. “How about root beer?”
“Sure.”
Hugging the last empty stool to her, Allison strove to wrap Harry’s Cloak of Invisibility about her. A light touch brushed across her shoulders. She froze, clutching the stool harder. The brush became steady pressure. She yelped and leaped forward, swinging the stool around, holding it in front like a lion tamer, and found herself looking up into the face of a great, mountain of a man, clad all in black and chains, much like the rest of the patrons. Some decorated it or themselves with embroidered patches (on the jackets) or tattoos (on every part of themselves).
The bartender glared at her. “Well, what’ll you have? And put down my stool.”
“Cheeseburger and ginger ale, please,” she blurted, carefully setting the stool down between her and Mountain Man.
“I’ll have hot wings.”
“Make mine mild.”
Josie examined the board behind the bar. “I’ll have a cheeseburger, medium rare, and a green salad.”
The bartender came to a halt. “Lady, no salads.”
“It says right there, lettuce and tomatoes are put on the burgers. Cut them up, and put them in a bowl. There is bleu cheese that comes with the wings. I’ll have that on the side as the dressing.”
With a shrug, the bartender drew their drinks and called their orders to some invisible cook back in the dim recesses of the building.
Allison realized that she and the aunts were providing high entertainment for the assembled crowd, most of whom were still watching them in enthralled and leering silence.
Mountain Man grunted his way onto the empty stool Allison had been clutching, forcing her to sidle around him and flee to the other side of her aunts. He leered in amusement as Allison tried to ignore him.
Other men began to move, some to talk quietly among themselves. Balls on the pool table started clicking and smacking. Someone slapped down a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and announced he was paying for the ladies’ drinks. Two more ordered wings, as well, and shifted their stools closer to Rosie and Daisy.
Rosie giggled.
“You ever ridden on a bike?” growled the man closest to Rosie.
“Oh, sure, I had a Schwinn when I was a girl,” she burbled. “It was pink, with white racing stripes.”
“I mean a real bike, a motorcycle.”
Rosie nodded. “I rented a moped when I was in Bermuda. I traveled all over the island on it.”
“Moped,” he repeated, and chuckles circulated through the dark room.
Wings, burgers, and a grudging salad arrived.
Josie decided to show what she knew about motorcycles. “I’ve always wanted a ride on a Hog.”
Smugly, Daisy contributed, “Barth and I toured the country on our motorcycle.”
The man next to Rosie whispered in her ear. Rosie’s eyes opened wide. She swung around to her sister. “Can you really get an orgasm while riding pillion on a Harley?”
Daisy shrugged, but her face lit up. “I don’t know about a Harley, but it works on a Goldwing.”
Rosie swung back around to her paramour, radiating awe and wonder. He grinned and sucked the meat off another wing. “Finish up, sweet thing, and I’ll take you for a ride.”
“I haven’t got a Goldwing, but my Yamaha V Star gives a good ride,” Daisy’s partner informed.
The clean-shaven biker who eased in next to Josie wasn’t wearing black or chains. His jacket was brown leather, Western with fringe. “My Hog’s just waitin’ for you, honey bunch.”
Allison blanched. “Wait, you’re not serious.”
But they were. She watched in horror as her three aunts quickly polished off their meals, and the men slapped down payment; only her Mountain Man kept his wallet in his pocket, and they all headed for the door.
“Wait!” Allison yelped as she pelted after them, grabbing Josie’s arm. “You’re not actually going to go with these guys. You don’t know them.”
Josie halted. “She’s right, young man. You are—”
“Scab . . . Antonin Scabitini, at your service, my good lady.” He flourished a bow and took her elbow like an overgrown Boy Scout escorting an old lady across the street, then he led her outside to his waiting Hog.
Daisy eyed her escort.
Without the flourish but with an evil twinkle, he grinned. “They call me Roach.” Daisy crossed her hands primly and waited. “Reginald Dupres,” he muttered.
Daisy nodded curtly. “Thank you, Mr. Dupres. You may lead me to our ride.”
Allison stood dumbstruck. She wheeled toward Rosie who stood admiring the Harley with the flames decorating its fuel tank.
Helmets were tossed to the ladies amid good-natured ribbing.
“Aunt Rosie?” Allison hoped that at least one aunt would come to her senses.
Rosie looked up, wonder and longing in her wrinkled face. Her paramour placed the helmet gently on her head, careful of her bobby-pinned curls. “Hammer,” he told her. “Sal Hammerschmidt.”
No one offered Allison a ride. Mountain Man just stood there, meaty hands dangling at his sides.
Off roared the aunts.
Off growled an escort of riders.
Only three motorcycles leaned on their kickstands in the parking lot.
Allison whimpered as she waited on the porch, scanning the road, listening for the roar of returning motorcycles.
Nothing.
Mountain Man came out a couple times, staring at her. The aunts had been gone about forty-five minutes when Mountain Man finally approached her. Allison tried to ignore him, once again wishing for that Cloak of Invisibility.
He sidled up behind her, too close. Then she felt him take a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. With a gasp, Allison shot off the porch. Pawing the car keys from her pocket, she punched the unlock button, jumped in the car, and locked all the doors.
Mountain Man circled the car twice, looking in at her. Then went back inside. Who knew for how long, though?
And now what?
An hour crawled by.
Fifteen more minutes.
At an hour-and-a-half, Allison fingered her phone. Should she call the police? What would she say? My aunts went for a ride with a bunch of motorcyclists. So?
She called her mom.
No answer.
“I’m not available. Please leave a message,” came across the line in her mother’s voice.
“Mom! I’ve lost them. I’ve lost the aunts.” Allison choked up, all the emotion she’d been holding in burbling up as soon as she heard her mother’s voice. “They took off with a bunch of bikers—motorcycle bikers. They haven’t come back. I don’t know what to do!” Sobs wracked Allison as she tried through blurry tears to find the phone’s End button.
She leaned back in the seat. With the windows up, the car had become steaming hot. She struggled to jam the keys in the ignition, turned them enough to power the window down, just a bit, not enough for someone with a ham fist to get his hand in. But what about his fingers? Could he pop the window out if he could get his fingers in the slight opening?
Allison moaned and closed her stinging eyes.
A gentle tapping on the window caused Allison to leap forward and sideways, bashing her arm on the wheel.
Black leather, fringe, and lots of silver studs filled her view. A face appeared—not the Mountain Man—looking concerned. “Roll down the window,” making a rolling motion with his hand.
Allison hesitated.
He made an exasperated face. “Then come on out. The ladies are fine.” He turned and walked back to the porch where he plunked down on the top step.
“You’ve heard from them? Do you know where they are?” Allison shouted from the car.
The man held his hand to his ear as though he couldn’t hear.
“Oh, bother.” Allison wrenched the keys from the ignition, unlocked the doors, and stomped over to the man on the porch. He patted the porch boards next to him.
“Have a seat.”
Exhausted, unnerved, and shaken, she sank down next to him. The sun touched the treetops. She checked her watch. Had it really been more than three hours since they all took off?
“They’re your aunts?”
Allison nodded. “My great aunts. I’m driving them on a road trip.”
He smiled. “They’re fine. Really. They’re in good hands.”
“But they’ve been gone for hours!” Allison wailed. “Can you call them?”
“I can call, but if they are on the road, they won’t answer. It isn’t safe to be on a phone while driving.”
They sat in silence as Allison watched the shadows slowly lengthened.
Mountain Man came out again. “Hey, Full Monty! You gettin’ a little, huh?” He chortled like an adolescent who’d just told a bathroom joke.
Allison scooted farther away. Mountain Man grabbed his crotch, grinned, and headed back in.
Head down in embarrassment, the other biker mumbled, “Sorry. My name here, today, is Full Monty.” Then he smiled and extended his hand. “Monday morning, I go back to being Montgomery Roberts, computer programmer and trouble shooter. And you are . . . Allison?”
Allison nodded and accepted the handshake.
Full Monty pulled out his phone, dialed, and waited. “Hey, Scab, the kid’s worried about her aunties. Check in when you can.” He put the phone away. “He’ll call when he’s able.”
He reached over, patting Allison on the shoulder. “Come on in. I’ll buy you dinner.”
“Oh my gosh!”
Full Monty hesitated. “Yes?”
“Their purses. They left their purses inside.”
Allison bolted in, searching around the stools where her aunts had been sitting.
“Looking for these?” The bartender pointed to two overstuffed purses perched side-by-side on the shelf behind his cash register.
Allison heaved a deep sigh. Of course, Daisy would not have taken off her fanny pack. “Thank you so much.” She took charge of purses, and returned them to the car, stashing them on the floor where each aunt usually sat. It seemed more like they’d return if their big purses were in their proper places.
Dinner hour arrived. The lowering sun painted the gathering clouds pink and mauve. Full Monty ordered a couple pizzas for the four who remained in the bar. In the middle of their meal, his phone squawked like a parrot. Scab was calling to say everyone was fine and they would return after watching sunset.
A half-hour after sunset, the roar of returning bikes silenced the chorus of frogs and a pair of barred owls.
Allison ran out, watching as bikes sprayed gravel before coming to a stop in front of the steps. Full Monty headed over to help Rosie from her perch on the rear of her flame-decorated Harley. That freed her escort up to help the next aunt. Each woman was carefully assisted from her ride.
“Oh, Allison, it was wonderful!” Rosie gushed. “We rode all over the back hills. I’ve never seen such beauty, with the wind whipping and a powerful machine between my legs. We stopped at the guys’ favorite watering hole for salsa and beer.”
“There was peach and cherry salsa. The peach salsa was awesome!” Daisy chimed.
“We stopped at a roadside stand and got fresh-roasted pecans.”
Daisy exclaimed, “Oh!” and unzipped her fanny pack. She worked loose a four-ounce baggie of pecans, handing them proudly to Allison.
Rosie continued, “Then we picked up pizza and beer and went up to a reservoir, where we sat on the embankment and watched the sunset. An eagle flew over, and deer came down from the woods to graze. There was even a pair of muskrats playing in the water. It was lovely,” she enthused, hands clutched at her chest.
“I’m so glad you had a good time, Aunt Rosie.”
What Allison wanted to scream was that she had been scared to death and why didn’t they come back sooner?
Scab sauntered over, arm protectively around Josie’s waist. “Got a place to stay tonight? It’s quite a drive to the next town of any size.”
Josie looked at Allison. “We’d intended to get at least a hundred miles farther today.” Looking at Scab. “Can you recommend a place nearby?”
Allison felt her stomach clench.
Scab pulled out his phone, dialed, and waited with a smile. “Maggie! Hey, it’s Scab. Got any rooms left?” He waited a beat. “That’s it? Four ladies. Yeah, I’ll ask.” He covered the phone and turned to Josie. “There’s a motel we use a couple miles from here. It’s clean and quiet, at least when we’re not revving our machines.” He grinned. “Anyway, she only has one room left with two queen beds.”
“Some of us can double up. We can free up another room for you all,” Roach offered.
“We’ll take the room. Thank you for the offer, Roach, that’s sweet. We’re fine with one room.” Daisy took Roach’s arm, causing him to blush. “Can you guide us to it?”
Everyone split up, hopping on bikes, climbing slowly and stiffly into cars, and revving up engines. Just before heading out, Allison gulped, then choked on a sob. “I was so worried.” Her hands on the wheel were shaking.
“Oh, honey.” Josie turned to her. From behind, Rosie leaned forward, wrapping her arms around both the seat and Allison. Daisy, sharing the back seat, reached forward, rubbing Allison’s shoulder. Josie continued, “We should have realized you would worry. You don’t need to, really. Please don’t worry about us. We have all three lived past the average life span. We’re grabbing all the fun and experiences we can cram in.
“You don’t remember your grandmother—our sister, Anna. She was the good one. She married at twenty, had four children, and spent her life caring for her husband and her children. She had everything that we’d always been told should make us happy. Rosie never married . . . our old maid. I married and had a child, but I wasn’t happy. As soon as Clayton headed for college, I got a divorce and took off. Broke my husband’s heart. He was a good father and provider, and so boring I felt I was suffocating. I thought there was something terribly wrong with me that I could not be happy with him.”
Daisy took over. “I married, but couldn’t have children. We tried for a while, then considered adopting. Everyone said that we were not a family, not complete without children. But we realized a child would only get in the way. We did what we wanted. Barth made good money and was able to take time off when we needed to get away. He went to conferences all over and I was able to go with him. We weren’t saddled with children. I also felt there was something wrong with me for feeling that way. As your Grandma Anna’s children got older, she went to work, not to please herself, but to put away money so her children could go to college. When her children turned sixteen, they had to work over the summer to earn money. They never got to travel, to explore, or just do something because they wanted to. On the rare occasions we got together over the years, we realized that we were happier than Anna. I remember being shocked to find that she was not happy. Content, yes. She loved her husband, she adored her children, but she disliked her life.”
Josie’s voice was quiet. “Then she got cancer and died. The three of us swore at her funeral that we would not live our lives dying. We would not sit around waiting for cancer or heart disease to take us. We would die living. Allison, if any of us die for any reason on this trip, we have died living.”
From behind, Rosie snuggled her chin next to Allison’s ear. “We had fun. That’s what it’s all about. We had fun. I want that on my tomb stone. I enjoyed my life. Please forgive us for scaring you, though.”
“We were a bit thoughtless,” Josie murmured. And Daisy nodded.
Two motorcycles waited for them in the parking lot, but the rest had left. Allison nodded and sniffled, not yet able to respond to her aunts.
“You’re young, sweetie. You have some cause to fear the unknown. We don’t.” Josie patted her shoulder again. “Now, drive,” her commanding tone back. “I’m ready to fall into bed.”
All male, Allison noted.
The bartender broke the silence. “What’ll ya have, ladies?”
Josie strode forward. “We’re here for lunch. It looks like such a popular place. The food must be excellent.”
Smirks all around, though the bartender looked almost pleased.
“I’ll have your house beer,” Josie finished, mounting one of the free stools at the bar.
Now it was the bartender’s turn to smirk. “House beer, huh? Well, that would be our Black Devil, produced at a local microbrewery. It’s a dark beer.”
Josie nodded. “Perfect.”
Daisy was next to choose a stool. “What have you in wine? I’d prefer a dry red if you have one.”
Snickers.
“No wine, lady. Beer, ale, lager, schnapps, whisky, vodka. . . ” His list trailed off.
“A light beer, then.”
Another smirk. “Watching your girlish figure, are you?”
“I stopped watching that years ago,” Daisy smirked in return. “I’m watching my matronly sprawl at this point.”
The bartender chuckled and turned his attention to Rosie, who was scanning the room. “And you, missy?”
Allison jumped, but the bartender was focused on Rosie.
“Butter beer, please.”
Thundering silence.
Then a beard parted, and laughter boomed out. “Butter beer? Like in Harry Potter. She must be a witch!”
Daisy swiveled on her stool toward the voice and announced with pride, “No, she’s a Wiccan. She has an ivy plant and everything.”
Deepening silence, punctuated by unsure creaking leather.
Again, the bartender came to the rescue. “How about root beer?”
“Sure.”
Hugging the last empty stool to her, Allison strove to wrap Harry’s Cloak of Invisibility about her. A light touch brushed across her shoulders. She froze, clutching the stool harder. The brush became steady pressure. She yelped and leaped forward, swinging the stool around, holding it in front like a lion tamer, and found herself looking up into the face of a great, mountain of a man, clad all in black and chains, much like the rest of the patrons. Some decorated it or themselves with embroidered patches (on the jackets) or tattoos (on every part of themselves).
The bartender glared at her. “Well, what’ll you have? And put down my stool.”
“Cheeseburger and ginger ale, please,” she blurted, carefully setting the stool down between her and Mountain Man.
“I’ll have hot wings.”
“Make mine mild.”
Josie examined the board behind the bar. “I’ll have a cheeseburger, medium rare, and a green salad.”
The bartender came to a halt. “Lady, no salads.”
“It says right there, lettuce and tomatoes are put on the burgers. Cut them up, and put them in a bowl. There is bleu cheese that comes with the wings. I’ll have that on the side as the dressing.”
With a shrug, the bartender drew their drinks and called their orders to some invisible cook back in the dim recesses of the building.
Allison realized that she and the aunts were providing high entertainment for the assembled crowd, most of whom were still watching them in enthralled and leering silence.
Mountain Man grunted his way onto the empty stool Allison had been clutching, forcing her to sidle around him and flee to the other side of her aunts. He leered in amusement as Allison tried to ignore him.
Other men began to move, some to talk quietly among themselves. Balls on the pool table started clicking and smacking. Someone slapped down a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and announced he was paying for the ladies’ drinks. Two more ordered wings, as well, and shifted their stools closer to Rosie and Daisy.
Rosie giggled.
“You ever ridden on a bike?” growled the man closest to Rosie.
“Oh, sure, I had a Schwinn when I was a girl,” she burbled. “It was pink, with white racing stripes.”
“I mean a real bike, a motorcycle.”
Rosie nodded. “I rented a moped when I was in Bermuda. I traveled all over the island on it.”
“Moped,” he repeated, and chuckles circulated through the dark room.
Wings, burgers, and a grudging salad arrived.
Josie decided to show what she knew about motorcycles. “I’ve always wanted a ride on a Hog.”
Smugly, Daisy contributed, “Barth and I toured the country on our motorcycle.”
The man next to Rosie whispered in her ear. Rosie’s eyes opened wide. She swung around to her sister. “Can you really get an orgasm while riding pillion on a Harley?”
Daisy shrugged, but her face lit up. “I don’t know about a Harley, but it works on a Goldwing.”
Rosie swung back around to her paramour, radiating awe and wonder. He grinned and sucked the meat off another wing. “Finish up, sweet thing, and I’ll take you for a ride.”
“I haven’t got a Goldwing, but my Yamaha V Star gives a good ride,” Daisy’s partner informed.
The clean-shaven biker who eased in next to Josie wasn’t wearing black or chains. His jacket was brown leather, Western with fringe. “My Hog’s just waitin’ for you, honey bunch.”
Allison blanched. “Wait, you’re not serious.”
But they were. She watched in horror as her three aunts quickly polished off their meals, and the men slapped down payment; only her Mountain Man kept his wallet in his pocket, and they all headed for the door.
“Wait!” Allison yelped as she pelted after them, grabbing Josie’s arm. “You’re not actually going to go with these guys. You don’t know them.”
Josie halted. “She’s right, young man. You are—”
“Scab . . . Antonin Scabitini, at your service, my good lady.” He flourished a bow and took her elbow like an overgrown Boy Scout escorting an old lady across the street, then he led her outside to his waiting Hog.
Daisy eyed her escort.
Without the flourish but with an evil twinkle, he grinned. “They call me Roach.” Daisy crossed her hands primly and waited. “Reginald Dupres,” he muttered.
Daisy nodded curtly. “Thank you, Mr. Dupres. You may lead me to our ride.”
Allison stood dumbstruck. She wheeled toward Rosie who stood admiring the Harley with the flames decorating its fuel tank.
Helmets were tossed to the ladies amid good-natured ribbing.
“Aunt Rosie?” Allison hoped that at least one aunt would come to her senses.
Rosie looked up, wonder and longing in her wrinkled face. Her paramour placed the helmet gently on her head, careful of her bobby-pinned curls. “Hammer,” he told her. “Sal Hammerschmidt.”
No one offered Allison a ride. Mountain Man just stood there, meaty hands dangling at his sides.
Off roared the aunts.
Off growled an escort of riders.
Only three motorcycles leaned on their kickstands in the parking lot.
Allison whimpered as she waited on the porch, scanning the road, listening for the roar of returning motorcycles.
Nothing.
Mountain Man came out a couple times, staring at her. The aunts had been gone about forty-five minutes when Mountain Man finally approached her. Allison tried to ignore him, once again wishing for that Cloak of Invisibility.
He sidled up behind her, too close. Then she felt him take a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. With a gasp, Allison shot off the porch. Pawing the car keys from her pocket, she punched the unlock button, jumped in the car, and locked all the doors.
Mountain Man circled the car twice, looking in at her. Then went back inside. Who knew for how long, though?
And now what?
An hour crawled by.
Fifteen more minutes.
At an hour-and-a-half, Allison fingered her phone. Should she call the police? What would she say? My aunts went for a ride with a bunch of motorcyclists. So?
She called her mom.
No answer.
“I’m not available. Please leave a message,” came across the line in her mother’s voice.
“Mom! I’ve lost them. I’ve lost the aunts.” Allison choked up, all the emotion she’d been holding in burbling up as soon as she heard her mother’s voice. “They took off with a bunch of bikers—motorcycle bikers. They haven’t come back. I don’t know what to do!” Sobs wracked Allison as she tried through blurry tears to find the phone’s End button.
She leaned back in the seat. With the windows up, the car had become steaming hot. She struggled to jam the keys in the ignition, turned them enough to power the window down, just a bit, not enough for someone with a ham fist to get his hand in. But what about his fingers? Could he pop the window out if he could get his fingers in the slight opening?
Allison moaned and closed her stinging eyes.
A gentle tapping on the window caused Allison to leap forward and sideways, bashing her arm on the wheel.
Black leather, fringe, and lots of silver studs filled her view. A face appeared—not the Mountain Man—looking concerned. “Roll down the window,” making a rolling motion with his hand.
Allison hesitated.
He made an exasperated face. “Then come on out. The ladies are fine.” He turned and walked back to the porch where he plunked down on the top step.
“You’ve heard from them? Do you know where they are?” Allison shouted from the car.
The man held his hand to his ear as though he couldn’t hear.
“Oh, bother.” Allison wrenched the keys from the ignition, unlocked the doors, and stomped over to the man on the porch. He patted the porch boards next to him.
“Have a seat.”
Exhausted, unnerved, and shaken, she sank down next to him. The sun touched the treetops. She checked her watch. Had it really been more than three hours since they all took off?
“They’re your aunts?”
Allison nodded. “My great aunts. I’m driving them on a road trip.”
He smiled. “They’re fine. Really. They’re in good hands.”
“But they’ve been gone for hours!” Allison wailed. “Can you call them?”
“I can call, but if they are on the road, they won’t answer. It isn’t safe to be on a phone while driving.”
They sat in silence as Allison watched the shadows slowly lengthened.
Mountain Man came out again. “Hey, Full Monty! You gettin’ a little, huh?” He chortled like an adolescent who’d just told a bathroom joke.
Allison scooted farther away. Mountain Man grabbed his crotch, grinned, and headed back in.
Head down in embarrassment, the other biker mumbled, “Sorry. My name here, today, is Full Monty.” Then he smiled and extended his hand. “Monday morning, I go back to being Montgomery Roberts, computer programmer and trouble shooter. And you are . . . Allison?”
Allison nodded and accepted the handshake.
Full Monty pulled out his phone, dialed, and waited. “Hey, Scab, the kid’s worried about her aunties. Check in when you can.” He put the phone away. “He’ll call when he’s able.”
He reached over, patting Allison on the shoulder. “Come on in. I’ll buy you dinner.”
“Oh my gosh!”
Full Monty hesitated. “Yes?”
“Their purses. They left their purses inside.”
Allison bolted in, searching around the stools where her aunts had been sitting.
“Looking for these?” The bartender pointed to two overstuffed purses perched side-by-side on the shelf behind his cash register.
Allison heaved a deep sigh. Of course, Daisy would not have taken off her fanny pack. “Thank you so much.” She took charge of purses, and returned them to the car, stashing them on the floor where each aunt usually sat. It seemed more like they’d return if their big purses were in their proper places.
Dinner hour arrived. The lowering sun painted the gathering clouds pink and mauve. Full Monty ordered a couple pizzas for the four who remained in the bar. In the middle of their meal, his phone squawked like a parrot. Scab was calling to say everyone was fine and they would return after watching sunset.
A half-hour after sunset, the roar of returning bikes silenced the chorus of frogs and a pair of barred owls.
Allison ran out, watching as bikes sprayed gravel before coming to a stop in front of the steps. Full Monty headed over to help Rosie from her perch on the rear of her flame-decorated Harley. That freed her escort up to help the next aunt. Each woman was carefully assisted from her ride.
“Oh, Allison, it was wonderful!” Rosie gushed. “We rode all over the back hills. I’ve never seen such beauty, with the wind whipping and a powerful machine between my legs. We stopped at the guys’ favorite watering hole for salsa and beer.”
“There was peach and cherry salsa. The peach salsa was awesome!” Daisy chimed.
“We stopped at a roadside stand and got fresh-roasted pecans.”
Daisy exclaimed, “Oh!” and unzipped her fanny pack. She worked loose a four-ounce baggie of pecans, handing them proudly to Allison.
Rosie continued, “Then we picked up pizza and beer and went up to a reservoir, where we sat on the embankment and watched the sunset. An eagle flew over, and deer came down from the woods to graze. There was even a pair of muskrats playing in the water. It was lovely,” she enthused, hands clutched at her chest.
“I’m so glad you had a good time, Aunt Rosie.”
What Allison wanted to scream was that she had been scared to death and why didn’t they come back sooner?
Scab sauntered over, arm protectively around Josie’s waist. “Got a place to stay tonight? It’s quite a drive to the next town of any size.”
Josie looked at Allison. “We’d intended to get at least a hundred miles farther today.” Looking at Scab. “Can you recommend a place nearby?”
Allison felt her stomach clench.
Scab pulled out his phone, dialed, and waited with a smile. “Maggie! Hey, it’s Scab. Got any rooms left?” He waited a beat. “That’s it? Four ladies. Yeah, I’ll ask.” He covered the phone and turned to Josie. “There’s a motel we use a couple miles from here. It’s clean and quiet, at least when we’re not revving our machines.” He grinned. “Anyway, she only has one room left with two queen beds.”
“Some of us can double up. We can free up another room for you all,” Roach offered.
“We’ll take the room. Thank you for the offer, Roach, that’s sweet. We’re fine with one room.” Daisy took Roach’s arm, causing him to blush. “Can you guide us to it?”
Everyone split up, hopping on bikes, climbing slowly and stiffly into cars, and revving up engines. Just before heading out, Allison gulped, then choked on a sob. “I was so worried.” Her hands on the wheel were shaking.
“Oh, honey.” Josie turned to her. From behind, Rosie leaned forward, wrapping her arms around both the seat and Allison. Daisy, sharing the back seat, reached forward, rubbing Allison’s shoulder. Josie continued, “We should have realized you would worry. You don’t need to, really. Please don’t worry about us. We have all three lived past the average life span. We’re grabbing all the fun and experiences we can cram in.
“You don’t remember your grandmother—our sister, Anna. She was the good one. She married at twenty, had four children, and spent her life caring for her husband and her children. She had everything that we’d always been told should make us happy. Rosie never married . . . our old maid. I married and had a child, but I wasn’t happy. As soon as Clayton headed for college, I got a divorce and took off. Broke my husband’s heart. He was a good father and provider, and so boring I felt I was suffocating. I thought there was something terribly wrong with me that I could not be happy with him.”
Daisy took over. “I married, but couldn’t have children. We tried for a while, then considered adopting. Everyone said that we were not a family, not complete without children. But we realized a child would only get in the way. We did what we wanted. Barth made good money and was able to take time off when we needed to get away. He went to conferences all over and I was able to go with him. We weren’t saddled with children. I also felt there was something wrong with me for feeling that way. As your Grandma Anna’s children got older, she went to work, not to please herself, but to put away money so her children could go to college. When her children turned sixteen, they had to work over the summer to earn money. They never got to travel, to explore, or just do something because they wanted to. On the rare occasions we got together over the years, we realized that we were happier than Anna. I remember being shocked to find that she was not happy. Content, yes. She loved her husband, she adored her children, but she disliked her life.”
Josie’s voice was quiet. “Then she got cancer and died. The three of us swore at her funeral that we would not live our lives dying. We would not sit around waiting for cancer or heart disease to take us. We would die living. Allison, if any of us die for any reason on this trip, we have died living.”
From behind, Rosie snuggled her chin next to Allison’s ear. “We had fun. That’s what it’s all about. We had fun. I want that on my tomb stone. I enjoyed my life. Please forgive us for scaring you, though.”
“We were a bit thoughtless,” Josie murmured. And Daisy nodded.
Two motorcycles waited for them in the parking lot, but the rest had left. Allison nodded and sniffled, not yet able to respond to her aunts.
“You’re young, sweetie. You have some cause to fear the unknown. We don’t.” Josie patted her shoulder again. “Now, drive,” her commanding tone back. “I’m ready to fall into bed.”
