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“Well, it was good seein’ ya. Be safe out there.”
He nods and says, “See ya ’round,” before turning on his heels toward the counter. Before he exits the restaurant, he slides his aviators onto his chiseled face and flashes me a sweet smile.
I stare down at the bowl of Southern goodness of chicken and dumplings and try to focus on my lunch so I can get back to the mines. I check my email while I eat, a good distraction from the frenzy of events my day has been filled with.
After I have cleaned my bowl, I grab my purse to leave. At the counter, I ask for my check and a to-go cup of sweet tea.
“Sweetie, Luke paid your check.” Justice says. There’s a withdrawn sadness about her, something dark and devastating. I can sense it.
“Luke? Why?” I ask in confusion.
“Ah, honey, he’s just sweet like that, yeah.” Justice hands me the to-go cup of sweet tea and asks if I need anything else. I hand her a tip, thank her for my meal, and make my way out into the chilly fall day.
I climb into my Camaro quickly, trying to shield myself from the breeze that is blowing through the air. Dark gray clouds mask the sun, a warning of the rainstorm rolling in. I drive with caution in the rain through the winding roads. The wind is strong and fierce, as the heavens open, and lightning crashes from the sky. My senses immediately heighten as fear takes over. I have always been terrified of storms.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, and my knuckles turn white from the tension. I come upon a motorcycle parked along the shoulder of the road. The weather is too treacherous for any stranded motorists, so I pull along the side of the shoulder to see if I can help. I roll down the passenger window and yell, “Do you need any help?” The biker raises the visor on his helmet, and I’m met with baby blue eyes yet again. Before he can even respond to my question I yell to him, “Luke, get in the car!”
He stands from the Harley and shakes the water from his leather jacket, and in a few strides, he opens the car door and climbs in. Luke pulls his helmet off first, then the black leather jacket. Cranking the heat up, I pull out onto the road. He runs his hands down his soaked, tight denim jeans and releases a huff of air.
“Didn’t think it was gonna storm this early,” Luke says as he looks up at me. Stealing glances while trying to concentrate on the road, I smile shyly at him.
“Where do you live, and I’ll drop you off?”
“Same old place, Millers Branch.”
We ride in silence for ten minutes through the torrential downpour. Lightning strikes crash consistently, keeping my nerves frayed. I grip the steering wheel tighter.
“You have the steerin’ wheel in death grip, Carly. Are you scared of storms?”
Smiling lightly, I roll my eyes because he is very observant. “Yeah, terrified in fact.”
“It’s okay, Carly. Just take some deep breaths. You’re safe,” he replies with a smile, and something in his voice tells me he’s right. I am safe.
I keep my eyes trained on the road and try to stay focused on driving through the storm, but I make light conversation, so I don’t come off rude.
“So how’s life been treatin’ ya?”
“Good I guess … same old shit, different day, really. You?”
“Good, I just moved back home, actually.”
“Yeah, you kinda fell off the face of the earth there for a while, didn’t ya?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Sorry to hear ’bout your old man. Is that what brought you home?”
I remain silent for a minute, considering my answer. “Thanks, Luke. I came home just before Daddy died. Never had any intentions of staying here, but he left me in control of the mines, so I’m here to stay I guess.”
“Sorry, Carly. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. That was rude of me.”
“No worries, Luke. Gotta move on sometime, ya know?” I reply. “So have you settled down and made some gal a lucky woman yet?”
Silence. Luke’s demeanor changes immediately like a light switch has been flipped from shy and sweet, to cold and distant. He stares out the window, watching the rain fall down the glass as we turn onto Millers Branch. We ride together in silence up the desolate holler until we reach the small beaten down house that Luke grew up in.
I pull into the driveway and shut the engine off. Luke nervously runs his hand down his jeans before turning toward me. His gaze is one I know all too well. Looking deep beyond his baby blues, he looks broken. I see heartache and anguish behind his eyes; it’s a look that reflects my own.
“Thanks for the lift. See ya ’round, Carly.” Luke pops the latch on the door, grabs his helmet and climbs out, then slams the car door behind him. He makes his way inside his house, with his head hung low. Addled by his reactions, I start the engine and back out of the driveway and onto the winding country road.
