CHAPTER 5
BIKES AND HORSES
Wren hangs up the phone then heads into her kitchen, makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for her supper and washes it down with a glass of water. After her dinner she heads back toward her bedroom, changes for bed, crawls in under the sheets and almost immediately falls back into a deep sleep. She wakes up very late the next morning and groggily makes her way into the shower. Her motions are slow and come almost automatically as she stands under the warm spray. Her mind works through the events of the last few days as her mood finally reaches a point where she is utterly despondent and careless. When she finally emerges from the shower she dries off, pulls on a pair of her period underwear and a pad then once again falls across her bed. She lays motionless there for hours staring up at the ceiling. It is early afternoon before she finally gets up from hunger. She finishes dressing and heads to the kitchen, going through the cabinets and soon discovers that there really isn’t anything in the house to eat. She sits down at the table with a paper and pencil and starts to write a list. As she sits and works on her shopping list she starts to forget about her problems just a little. She also realizes as she is working there are other things she needs as well and that this is going to be a long process with only her bike to use. She resigns herself to her task and grabs her helmet as she heads out into the garage.
She heads on into Fenton and grabs a burger and a malt then over to the store to get all she can fit in her pack and a small box she strapped to the back of her bike before leaving the house. It takes her several trips and several stores before she is finally done and is sitting with a cup of tea, a bowl of berries and some elk jerky. She goes to bed early with her mind keeping her in a state of persistent fretful sleep as it constantly jumps between her rape, and childhood memories, both good and bad. She wakes early and yet she can’t bring herself to get out of bed. She lay there staring at the walls so deep in despair that she fully ignores her aching stomach now sick with hunger. She does not even stir when someone starts knocking at the door, they knock and knock. It is not until the knocking has ceased that Wren finally gets out of bed. She goes to the front window and looks out between the curtains and the window. She can clearly see two people, a man and a woman in dark suits walking out to a small car parked in front of her house. She finds the sky outside dark, dreary and looking like it is on the verge of a storm.
She goes back to her room and prepares to hop in the shower. While in the shower she can hear her phone ringing but decides it best to ignore it and let the voicemail get it. Once she is out and dressed she calls her voice mail.
“Hi! You’ve reached Wren… beep”
“You have one unheard message.”
“Hey, Wren I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday, it looks like I’m going to be up here through Saturday. Please call me when you get this, would you please. I love you.”
“End of messages, to erase this message… beep.”
She calls Norman back and it rings and rings then goes to his voice mail.
“You have reached Norman James attorney at law please leave me a message after the tone.”
“So I guess we're playing phone tag now. As you can tell I’m still alive and well. I don’t think I’ll be going out today since it looks like rain. I’ll talk to you later, I love you.”
She heads into the kitchen, her stomach still complaining for want of food. She opens a bag of pretzels and gets out a large heavy pan. Her mind is near blank and her actions are more reflex though as she starts getting out ingredients. Cream, brown sugar, cocoa, butter, milk, molasses, vanilla, all sitting around the stove and slowly each is added in proportions that only a well trained eye and hand can do. Little by little the thing that gives this house its characteristic scent starts to take shape within the pan in front of her. Once the ingredients are all in and all is heating nicely she slips in the candy thermometer though, there really is no need for it. Over the years Wren has acquired a feel for making fudge and can tell when it is ready just by how the spoon feels going through the sugary syrup. If making the fudge had been some kind of subconscious attempt at making her feel better it failed. Her mind is now trapped in old memories, memories that fully bring back the emptiness in her life, of not having grandma O’Malley around her any more. She needs someone to talk to, she needs another woman, one who understands her as well as she understands herself. As she pours the now rapidly cooling syrup into the pan to cool she realizes there's someone she can talk to. With the last scraping of the pan she sets everything aside to cool.
She picks up her back pack and heads for her bedroom. Opening the pack she shoves in a pair of jeans and a few shirts then adds socks, underwear, and sneakers. A few cosmetics and the bag is starting to bulge visibly. Going into one of the other bedrooms she pulls out a black and yellow leather motorcycle racing suit and a matching pair of boots. She lays the suit on her bed and goes back in to clean up the kitchen. When it is all clean she changes into the racing suit and heads for the garage. She picks up her purse and forcibly crams it into the remaining pocket of the pack. Then pulls it back out again to get at her phone.
“Norman it’s me again I changed my mind and am going out anyway. I’ll call you this evening. I love you.”
Turning off the phone she puts it back in the purse and the purse back in the bag. She enters the garage and takes a spider web of elastic cords from a hook on the wall, and straps the bag to the back of the bike. She heads back through the house and makes sure everything is turned off then throwing her leg over her bike, she is off.
Wren is glad she filled up the bike with the last run of the day before because now it lets her just drive. She is also glad for the late start as it allowed her to miss all the rush hour traffic. It is noon when she rolls off the Columbia exit for gas and lunch. She fills up the bike then grabs a hot dog, a drink and a candy bar. She stands around eating then hits the road again. Two more stops for fuel and snacks take her to Sioux Falls where she fills up the bike for the last time that day. She finds a room at the Ramada and grabs dinner at Taco Bell. When she gets back to her room she takes off her leather suit slips into a big tee shirt and calls Norman.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Norman, how are you doing?”
“Worried sick, I know you said you’d call me this evening but when it passed up six o’clock I started to worry more and since seven I’ve been almost frantic. Where have you been all day?”
“Driving.”
“Driving!? Where?”
“Well, right now Sioux Falls.”
“Sioux Falls? What are you doing there? Do you have any idea how careless you are being?”
“Let’s deal with this one thing at a time. First yes Sioux Falls in South Dakota. Why, because it just so happens to be on the way to Grandma and Grandpa Robbins ranch. And as for being careless, believe me I am much safer on my bike than anywhere else I can think of and I don’t recall needing your permission for me to go anywhere.”
“I didn’t mean for it to come out that way Wren, I’m sorry. I’ve just been alone and worried for several hours with no news from you. I know you have to be going through a great deal right now but, so am I.”
“I’m sorry too Norman but as I told you the other day I’m a big girl and besides no one other than you would even begin to look for me in South Dakota. And believe me if you have never been to the ranch you would never find it.”
“Well, would you at least call me when you get there. Please.”
“Yes I’ll call you once I’m there. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to get some sleep.”
“I don’t mind as long as you're not mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you Norman. Good-night and I love you.”
“Good-night Wren, I love you too.”
She hangs up the phone, sets the alarm and quickly falls into a dreamless sleep.
Wren wakes long before the alarm the next morning, a quick shower and she is dressed, a breakfast of doughnuts and coffee and she is ready to go. Two tanks of fuel and eight hours find her pulling up the long gravel driveway of the Robbins ranch. One of her uncles rides up to the driveway, his lariat bouncing with each of his horses' quick strides. He stops his horse across the driveway blocking the way as Wren nears.
“What business do you have stranger?”
Wren stops her bike and removes her helmet.
“Since when have I been a stranger here?”
“Wren! What a surprise! Did Mom and Dad know you were coming?”
“No, it’s a surprise visit. I really need to talk to grandma woman to woman.”
“Couldn’t you have just called her on the phone?”
“No uncle Noah, not this time. I wish it were that simple. Is Grandma at home or out in the field?”
“She’s up at the house her and the young ones are probably just finishing up the lunch dishes and if I know Mom getting ready for a nice long nap.”
“That would be Grandma alright.”
“Well, I better get back to work or I’ll never remember where I left off.”
“What are you doing?”
“The boring part of my job, inventory, counting the herd, making sure it’s still all here. I’ll see you later.”
With a nudge from his boots Noah sets his horse back into a slow trot toward the cattle he had left to stop Wren. Wren slides her helmet back on and starts back on up the driveway. She pulls up near the garage door and is climbing off the bike when a woman about her own height steps out of the house. She has long dark hair with streaks of gray showing near the top and her dark skin showing the signs of working in the sun for many years. With her soft moccasins she slowly and quietly approaches Wren from behind as she loosens the pack from her bike. Wren pauses in what she is doing, stands upright and spins around quickly grabbing the approaching woman into her arms.
“Grandma!”
“Good heavens child you have the same reflexes as your father!”
“Thank-you, I wish they were always that good, but I smelled you coming up from behind me. I always know where there is the scent of good strong coffee Grandma is near.”
“Well, now I know how you knew I was here but I don’t know why you are here.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Couldn’t you have called?”
“Now I know where uncle Noah gets his sense of humor. He said the same thing to me in the driveway. This is something I really need to…to talk through face to face.”
“Let’s put your stuff away and find somewhere to talk because it must be mighty important to get you to drive over a thousand miles on your motorcycle.”
They put Wren's pack away in the spare room, call Norman to let him know she is safe and sit down in the shade on the back patio.
“Now tell me, my child what is it that has brought you all this way just to see me?”
“Well, it all started like this…”
Wren tells her story from the very beginning right up to where she now sits. She leaves out nothing and holds nothing back. Her Grandma listens intently as the whole unfolds before her. As Wren cries so does her Grandma, she listens and never stops her and Wren for the first time is able to open up all of her feelings to someone who she knows will understand those feelings. By the time she finishes she has her head lying on her Grandma’s wet shoulder and her hair damp from her Grandmother's tears. When she finishes her tale it is late afternoon and her young cousins are waking and starting to move about the house.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Some.”
“Come on let's get cleaned up a little and we can talk about this some more later. I don’t think the minds of the innocent need to hear us talking.”
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