Will Be Yours Ch. 12

I turned around. Mom was standing below the arch of the kitchen, looking small and guilty.

"But I was your daughter," I croaked. "I had no one except you. You turned me out without thinking, you refused to take me back when Scott tried to make you understand. Yes, I had done something wrong and immoral unknowingly. And I accepted it. But no one gave me a chance to make amends. Didn't you ever wonder where I'd go? You always worried about me, cared about me. What had happened to you? All your love for me just disappeared in one instant? I ceased to be your daughter. You even barred me from calling you mum..."

"Cyn—" her voice was feeble. Mine was louder.

"I haven't forgotten anything." I walked over to the sofa and picked up my bag. "I just hide it, and not let it affect my everyday life. But it's hard for me to be here. It still hurts to be in this room, to be standing in the same place where I was humiliated and persecuted by my own family."

Mom came forward and reached out for me, but I stepped back. I couldn't stay there any longer.

"Thank you for the breakfast," I said, "It was good to have these things made by you. But I must go now."

"I know you're still angry—"

"I was never angry," I countered. "I was only hurt. Yes, I'd made a mistake. And I only wished for a chance to make things right, just like the chance you seek to make amends with me."

I opened my bag and fished out my card, handing it to her. "Keep this. If you ever want to reach me, you can do so without bothering Scott."

I hugged her quickly as she perused the card. And then I hurried to walk out.

"When will I see you again?" mom's voice broke my motion.

"Soon, maybe?" I shrugged, opening the door to step out onto the lawn. I strode out without looking anywhere, my arms firmly around my body. I walked out through the open gate, onto the road, and down the lane, barely lifting my gaze. When I turned a corner, I noticed a bike with Luke on it. He saw me and took off his helmet. I surreptitiously wiped off the tears from my cheeks, forcing myself to be normal as I approached him.

"What's the matter?" he asked, still staring at my face. I shook my head, crossing my arms against my chest. He saw the tears in my eyes, my glasses hiding nothing.

"She told you something?" he frowned. I shook my head again.

"Are you sad to be leaving her?"

I shook my head yet again. Luke sighed, gently holding me by my arms.

"Are you alright, Cynthia?" he asked. "Can you make it through the rest of the day?"

I nodded this time, climbing on to the bike. He gave me the helmet and I wore it.

"How long have you been here?" I asked, putting my feet on the rear pegs and my hands on his shoulders.

"About fifteen minutes," he said, wearing his helmet. "I'd thought I'd get late."

"You were before time." He hadn't shaved that morning. The grey, combed cotton jacket felt soft against my palms. He was wearing the t-shirt that I'd bought him while buying presents for the others back home. It was white with grey stripes, matching the jacket. I also noticed his wristband, which was a permanent fixture on his right hand. I had never seen him without it. Not even once.

He started the bike, letting it idle. After a few backward and forward moves, we were riding ahead. I was glad about having worn pants, although I'd wanted to wear a skirt. I had no idea he would bring his motorcycle.

"How far are we going?" I asked, my voice getting lost on the wind. But Luke's ears were sharp.

"It'll take about thirty minutes," he said, craning his neck. I gently punched him on the back and he laughed, facing the road again.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked.

"Hmm-mm," I sighed. "Feeling great."

We glided smoothly along the street, the wind on my face and the low hum of the bike filling my ears. With the bike zipping along, we had soon left the quiet confines of my old neighbourhood. Since the day before, I had got the hang of leaning when Luke leaned, and after quite a few minutes of riding long and straight, he finally made a left turn. And then we were stuck in traffic. I tried to ignore the feeling of vulnerability caught between a huge sedan on one side and a gigantic dump truck on the other. Luke let go off the handlebars and straightened his back, and I followed suit.

Sunday traffic wasn't as thick as the other days, but we still had to wait for a good few minutes. My hands were on his hips, the heat of the sun soaking through the fabric of my top, and when he pushed up his helmet visor and started humming a song, I couldn't help but smile at the words.

"So sail away and free your ghosts,

Give to whom you love the most,

Give away and you'll believe

All good things you'll receive...

He uncrossed his arms and gripped the handlebars, drumming his fingers on them.

"The more you give, the more you get,

Always try, not to forget,

So give it all away,

All that you want,

Will be yours..."

A little chuckle rumbled in my throat when he sang the refrains in a shrill falsetto, his voice overriding the noise of traffic and the low hum of the bike.

"Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na..."

I sighed softly, enjoying myself more than I'd ever had. Luke had sung for me, to me, the other evening. Although part of it was for impressing my family and blowing them off with his charm, I had had no difficulty to guess the thought that had gone into choosing the song. But later that night, when he held me close and sang down to my soul, I felt like I'd found the lost part of me... the part that was made of failures and mistakes and disappointments but still wanted to be held and loved and understood. Luke had his own past, his own baggage. But despite that, he seemed to fit into my life like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

"I thought you don't like pop," I remarked.

"No, but I like Ronan Keating," he replied. "He has a great voice."

"Not to mention, those eyes."

"You really are into pop," he shook his head in exasperation, making me laugh.

"Did you have breakfast?" I asked suddenly.

"I never miss breakfast," he answered, craning his neck at me. "I did miss you, though."

"You don't have to say that to please me," I giggled.

"But you wanted to hear it," he chuckled in turn. I laughed and put my hands on his shoulders again when traffic cleared and we resumed moving. Soon we were zooming again, and I felt myself relaxing. Keeping my helmeted head against his back, I let our bodies be pressed together as my hands slipped from his shoulders to his stomach. I wrapped my arms around him, not sure if he noticed.

Being with him was soothing, comforting. Perhaps it was my own emotional wounds that made me sensitive to him, and vice versa. Perhaps because I had never had a friend like him, I understood how much I wanted someone like him in my life and appreciated the fact that he was there. And at the same instant, I struggled to figure out if I was the same person who hadn't wanted the weekend to happen at all. Now I didn't want it to end.

Sail away and free your ghosts,

Give to whom you love the most

The words settled in my consciousness. I knew what I had to do once I got back home.

Surprising me, Luke slowed the bike before turning onto a partially hidden one-lane road perpendicular to the highway. He brought the bike to a halt, and I pulled myself away, looking from side to side.

"Is this where your sister lives?" I asked. Luke got off the bike and took off his helmet, shaking his head.

"She lives about five more minutes down the road," he said. "I just wanted to see if you'd like driving for a bit."

My eyebrows shot up. "Me?"

"Huh-huh."

"I've never done this before."

"That's why I want you to try it a bit. It'll be fun."

"I don't think so. It could be dangerous."

"This is a private road," he said. "It leads to my dad's best friend's house. He lives right where the lane ends. I learned to ride here."

I couldn't believe I was even considering it. Luke could be loose and wild sometimes and I was sure I had taken temporary leave of my senses when I nodded in approval.

"Great!" he sounded delighted. "I'll be right behind you on the bike and I'll do all the shifting. You only have to steer until you get used to it."

"Okay."

"Now, slide forward."

I did as asked, and he got in behind me and wore the helmet. "Do you know what each part is called?" he asked.

"Let me try. This one on the right is the throttle and the front brake. This one on the left is the clutch. Am I right?"

"So far, yes. What about the feet?"

I looked down at my feet, and heard Luke laugh.

"If you look down at your feet while driving, you're sure going to crash."

"Hey, I told you I've never done this before!" I protested.

"Honestly, has Scott never taught you how to ride?"

"No. I was terrified of the idea."

"But you're letting me?"

I giggled. "You don't have a wife who might make life hell for you if she saw us sandwiched together. Like this."

"Oh, so that's what you're terrified of," he nodded in comprehension. "Carrie has always been a little possessive. But Scott still finds his way. Although I think she likes you more than she has ever liked any girl around her husband."

"Scott is fun," I mused. "I know of very few people like him, who's always positive, always smiling, always making everyone laugh. Carrie is pushy, adamant, sometimes illogical. And they're still married for almost eighteen years."

"Do you want to get married?" he asked suddenly. I shrugged.

"You need a person to get married to," I said. "I don't have anyone."

I craned my neck to look at him. "You're quite the family guy. I can imagine you married, complete with an apron-clad wife making a roast and kids visiting the dentist and playing in the park."

"I don't do boring," he rolled his eyes. And then he brought his attention back to the bike. "Now, concentrate. On your right foot is the back brake. And with your left foot, you will shift gears. After that it's pretty easy. You release the throttle, engage the clutch, shift, and then throttle up again. Is it clear?"

I nodded, feeling slightly afraid.

"Don't worry, I'm right with you." He leaned forward, gripping the handlebars. "Put your hands on top of mine and your feet on top of my feet."

"Is this how you learned to ride?" I asked.

"No. Paul stood to a side, shouting instructions. I squeezed the clutch instead of the brake and crashed into a tree." He laughed a little, and I found myself feeling less nervous. "Paul also happens to my brother-in-law. He's married to Megan."

"The ones we're visiting today?"

"Yes. You ready?"

"For what?"

"Riding."

"Oh." I was just too lost in the moment, relishing the feel of his body against mine. "Yes, I am."

He turned the throttle, slowly releasing the clutch. When the bike began to move, he lifted his foot off the ground, and I placed my feet on top of his.

I could feel the beatings of his heart through the fabric of my top. Something about the whole thing made me feel like I was on a roller coaster... the fluttering nerves, the rush of adrenaline, and the feel of his skin against mine. Slowly, little by little, he instructed me, showing me how to use the brakes, when to release the clutch, and how to shift. We moved in rhythm, and he continued to guide me even after I had got the hang of it. I realised how gentle and patient he was. Never raising his voice, never getting irritated if he had to repeat something. I had also noticed it when he taught football to Jake and Josh, taking his time with them, never tiring of explaining things until they understood.

When we switched places- his hands and feet on top of mine- I began to feel nervous again, even squeezing the hand brakes too hard one moment, but Luke never lost patience. Over the next few minutes as I memorized his actions and slowly became better at manoeuvring the bike, he lightened his hands and then entirely pulled away. I felt nervous for a tad moment, but Luke's voice came steady, guiding me. I had always loved riding my bicycle, but the motorcycle offered a different kind of thrill. For the first time, I realised why guys like Scott and Luke preferred bikes over cars.

"Keep going," he encouraged, "You're doing great."

"It's so fun!" I squealed. "I can't believe this!"

"Are you ready to try riding alone?"

"Are you crazy?! I'm lighter than a feather! I'll fly away!"

"You won't, I promise."

Luke brought the motorcycle to a stop and got off. I looked at him nervously, trying to ignore my maddeningly pounding heart.

"You'll do fine," he smiled like an encouraging teacher. "Come on."

I debated an instant, before taking a deep breath and starting the bike. Slowly and carefully, I rode along the lane, turning, stopping, starting and then doing it all over again. I was always a quick learner, but riding a bike had never occurred to me.

If Luke remained in my life, he'd manage to transform me into a different person.

Giddy with excitement, when I finally brought the bike to a stop, I could feel my face was flushed.

"I did it!" I laughed, pressing my hands to my mouth, immediately realising the sweat on my face. "I never thought I'd drive a bike someday."

"Well, you hadn't thought you'd meet me," he chuckled. "You were great. Want to try it again?"

"No. I wouldn't want to crash and spoil the fun."

Luke laughed, coming forward. I got off, and he rested the bike on the kickstand. I leaned against the bike, taking off my helmet. When I looked at him, he smiled at me.

"Just wanted you to loosen up," he said, "You looked kind of upset."

"Not upset," I shook my head, playing with the band of the helmet. "Mom brought up old things, and I told her all that I'd wanted to say those years ago. Talking of the past made me sad."

"Can neither of you leave the past behind and move on?" he asked.

"It's hard for me," I said, trying to keep the emotions at bay. "It's hard for me to forget everything."

"Last night, I asked you to not bully yourself anymore," he crossed his arms. "By holding on to the past, you're only torturing that scared little girl. Okay, you made a mistake and you paid for it by being ostracized. Now what? Dwell on it for the rest of your life? Allow your past to shape your future?"

"I have recovered a lot, but being here just makes it hard again." I closed my eyes and tightened my lips, feeling the tears threatening again. "The evening my mother turned me out was the same day I found out about my pregnancy... I sat by the side of the road in the pouring rain until Scott picked me up."

I looked away, my throat tight. "What if Scott hadn't been here at the time? Where would I go?"

When I looked back at him, my vision was blurry. Luke laced an arm around my waist and pulled me into a hug, comforting me.

"Being here reminds me of those times..." I spoke in a steady voice. "I passed by the same sidewalk this morning, and the memories just came back..."

"I understand," he soothed. "I'm glad you won't have to be here long."

I pulled away, and looked up at his face, feeling slightly distressed.

"I'm sorry. I—"

"Stop being sorry all the time," he laughed softly. "It's okay to let it out."

Inhaling deeply, I nodded, before wiping off the tears. "Tell me about your riding adventures," I smiled, slowly relaxing again. "Scott has told me about the Pacific Coast route. Where else have you gone?"

"Not to a lot of places, but quite a few," he said, leaning against the bike. "I've been to Texas, Gold Coast, Yorkshire, and along the 'Che' route in Cuba, among other places. But if you ask me about my most memorable bike trip, it would be the one in Ireland, where I spent about three days criss-crossing the country, from Dublin to Galway, from Limerick to Clare County. I met numerous people along the way, stopped at places to enjoy the food and a few pints of Guinness, bought local stuff from the side of the road, and just had a whale of time. This was the year I left college, and I wanted to have a good time before joining business school. I also enjoyed El Paso. Miles after miles of dusty terrain with no people in sight."

"I'm envious," I murmured. "I've never been anywhere except to London a few times."

"You can go," he said. "Travelling isn't expensive if you know how to cut down on costs. When I travelled during my early years, I stayed at hostels and ate out of a cooler. There were times when I'd just land up at a place, make friends with somebody who let me stay with them, find odd jobs to save some money, and take off. When Diana and I travelled, we usually put up at holiday homes instead of hotels. We did our own cooking and saved further on the expenses."

"I've never been adventurous," I smiled shyly. "I guess I find security in certainty."

"I beg to differ," he gave me a side-long glance. "You moved to an unfamiliar place where you knew just one family. Despite the trauma of what you had experienced here, you went on to buy a house and run your own business there, learning life skills that you didn't have earlier. If that's not adventurous enough, what is?"

"That was out of... necessity and helplessness? Because I didn't see any other way to survive?"

"But you did it, didn't you? You made the town your own, the town made you its own, and now you two are inseperable. I know it had taken a lot of courage to make that shift from here to there, and to start afresh. I find that braver than travelling for fun or being in a country where no one speaks English."

"Did Diana accompany you on the bike?" I asked.

"I didn't ride all that much after she came," he said, turning around and resting his arms on the seat of the bike. "We travelled to many places together, but not on the motorcycle."

"Was she afraid of riding?"

"In the beginning, she used to be pretty scared, just like you were the other day. But after I started to take her around on the bike sometimes, she slowly got used to it, even though she still preferred the car."

"This one's a 1983 model, I see," I looked at the body of the motorcycle, the paint had peeled off in places and the tyres looked old, although they were pretty sturdy. "Is this your first bike?"

"Yes," he smiled affectionately, running his hand over the seat. "A family in my old neighbourhood was going away and wanted to sell off the bike. I bought it in a jiffy, repaired it a bit, changed the tyres and it was good to go." He looked at me. "I love it too much to replace it with something new."

"How about a superbike?"

"Nay! Those are flashy. But this one's a classic. I'll never trade it for anything."

I smiled and looked around the lane. Only rows of houses and trees and a dirt road in the distance. There wasn't much of anything else.

"I think we should get moving," he announced, putting his helmet back on. "I don't want to be late for lunch."

I laughed, and followed him on the bike. "How long have they been married?" I asked, wearing the helmet.

"Paul and Megan? Ten years. They dated for several years before that."

"I guess you played Cupid?"

"Not really, but Paul's my best friend and Megan and I were always close since I'm right after her and our age difference is negligible. So I was the connecting thread. Paul used to hang out at our house and restaurant, and Megan would often be around me. And that's how they met and fell in love and later got married."

"How romantic," I said, dreamily. "I find the 'childhood sweethearts' concept very adorable. Good friends make the best relationships."