Page 88 of If You Give a Grump a Christmas Tree Farm
Now we’ll find out if this separation clarifies that our connection was never based on convenience or forced proximity, but something more enduring.
I pray we both find the same answer.
The morning sun crests the tree line as I stand on the porch and cup Rebecca’s face. My lips brush over hers in one last kiss. God, I hate to leave her.
She doesn’t want me to go. I know that, but I have no choice. She took it pretty well when I broke it to her.
“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” I whisper against her lips.
She nods, but I can see the fear in her eyes. As brave as she tries to be, a part of her still thinks I might not come back… for whatever reason.
“Bobby and Ed have got things handled.” I try to reassure her.
“I know. And Amanda and Eric will be over with the kids after school lets out. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll call you.”
“Okay.” Her voice is soft, like she doesn’t dare hope for even that much. It’s up to me to prove her wrong—to prove to her she can count on me, whether it’s making that phone call or returning. I plan to do just that, and I’ll prove it again and again if I have to.
I climb onto my bike. There’s still some snow in the grassy fields, but the pavement is dry, so I ride, my cut on my back.
Pulling out, I see her standing on the porch watching me ride off, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders against the chill.
Hitting the blacktop, I twist the throttle and roar down the road, wanting to get back to Birmingham as soon as possible so I can return to my baby that much faster.
***
When I reach our clubhouse buried back in the rundown neighborhood beside the steel plant, I drop my kickstand and shoot off a text to Rebecca, letting her know I arrived and asking if everything is good there.
She replies immediately, letting me know everything is fine.
Our clubhouse is an old two-story frame house the club bought and converted. With an alley behind it, it’s perfect for us to roll our bikes in and out.
“Boys have been waiting for you, JJ,” Hammer says. “They’re already assembled.”
“Thanks, man.” I shove my phone in my hip pocket and trudge inside, through the common room, and down the hall to the room where we hold Church. Hammer follows behind me.
“How’s Rebecca?” he asks.
“Good. Wasn’t too happy I had to leave at the height of everything, but she understands how it is.”
“She’s a good woman. I really like her. She’s a keeper, JJ. Don’t fuck that up.”
His words ring in my ears as I push the door open.
My brothers are gathered around the table, and Hammer and I take the two vacant seats.
Shades, our president sits at the head of the table. He gives me a silent nod, then slams the gavel and begins the meeting.
It lasts about forty-five minutes, and then we file out to the bar in the common room. It’s good to be back. I’ve missed the place and my brothers. Tennessee is beautiful, but a part of me will always call Alabama home.
I’ve been a part of this club, this group of brothers who are family to me, for a lot of years now. Long enough to see Shades and Ghost and Hammer all find women of their own and raise kids to adulthood.
After a beer, we head out to take care of some business down in the south of the state, which was the reason I was called back.
There are twelve of us on this run. Myself, Griz, Heavy, Spider, Hammer, Gator, Ghost, Shades, 12 Gauge, Slick, Boot, and Brayden with Tater staying behind with the prospects.
We’re quite a sight, thundering in a pack on the interstate, headed south, drawing the attention of every motorist we pass.
