Page 2 of Saint

“Just the coffee and shot. Let me know if you hear anything else about it. I want to know what happened and I’m pretty sure Sheriff ain’t gonna tell me shit. Kid’s gonna be ok but he’ll be laid up for a while. Can’t say the same for his bike though. It’s been totalled.”

“Fuck! The kid worked so hard on that too. At least he’s still with us though. Sounds like it could have been a different story. Will let you know what I hear. Bound to be some kind of gossip coming through these doors.”

The two men sat outside soaking up the late morning sun together staring wordlessly at the lake and sipping coffee. After 15 minutes of silent contemplation, Saint stood to take his leave. “Gotta go get some sleep and then head back to the hospital. Thanks for the coffee brother. See you soon”. He steered his large frame back down the ramp to the street staring at the lake and giving Dublin a two fingered wave over his shoulder. In the distance he saw what appeared to be a child standing on a surfboard?? Paddling towards the bar. “What the fuck?” He straddled his bike but continued to stare, fascinated and confused, at the figure on the lake. Judging by its shapely curves, it was definitely NOT a child and it definitely WAS a woman…a small, curvy woman with long dark hair who was making his day brighter by the second. She also looked suspiciously like the woman he got caught watching at the coffee shop yesterday – twice. It had been years since someone had piqued his interest like that. She was paddling towards the jetty and Dublin and moving remarkably fast. He stared for another thirty seconds and decided he’d speak to Dublin about her later. The bike roared to life beneath him and he took off up the avenue with a smile on his face for the first time in 24 hours, ready for some sweet dreams.

Jade pulled alongside the jetty and threw a thin rope to Dublin so her stand up paddleboard wouldn’t float away. He smiled in return and offered her a hand up to the jetty. This woman was quite the enigma and always brought a smile to his face. She showed up out of nowhere one day, named him Jameson for his Irish accent and the whisky behind the bar and then started turning up every other day for a drink or a “swimmer” – her water version of a roadie – and always had a smile on her face. He named her Jack after her preferred drink and always found a reason to be smiling back at her. He knew almost nothing about her other than she was an Aussie, was easy on the eye, even easier to get along with and that she lived about 10 houses down from the bar overlooking the lake. Her tiny stature and long, thick hair made her hard to miss.

“Morning Jack. The weather’s starting to get a bit cool to be paddling don’t you think? And I hear there’s some rain heading our way. You don’t want to be going too far today” he said with concern in his voice. She looked back up at him and for the first time ever, he saw no smile in her eyes.

“G’day Jameson. Not going far, just for a float in the sun. Got some demons to drown. I’ll be needing 3 swimmers today please – if you’ve got them?”

“Three? That’s a lot to be drinking way out there in the middle of the lake. What happens if you roll off that paddleboard? Fucked if I can swim that far” He noticed the sad look in her eyes and decided to just let her have what she needed. “Let me get those drinks for you. I’ll put them on your tab and you can sort it out this afternoon when you get back.”

He jogged back up to the bar and returned with 3 bottles of pre mixed Jack Daniels and cola and handed them to her. Not too many people here seemed to like the pre mixed drinks but it was all she seemed to drink apart from the occasional shot of Tequila so he kept the fridge stocked for her. He watched as she put each bottle into a soft foam drink cooler to keep them cold and stop them from clinking together in her backpack and noted with amusement the flowery one with the word cunt in pretty script lettering around the outside. Most women were mortally offended by that word, but apparently not this one. He helped her back onto the board and waved as she paddled off into the morning sun in the middle of the lake yelling out a warning to keep an eye on the weather.

Jade

I headed out toward the middle of the lake and paddled in no particular direction for about 15 minutes. I didn’t have a destination in mind. Just some water, sun and whisky. The combination had always soothed my soul and I couldn’t see why this time should be any different.

Eventually I figured I’d gone far enough. I did a slow 360 and took note of the direction of the bar way off in the distance so I could find my way back if I drifted a bit and then lay, flat on my back on the board. I put my paddle across my lap, my waterproof backpack under my head and closed my eyes. All I needed to do was soak up the sun and breathe. I just needed to clear the drama of the day before from my head. It had brought back so many memories and they had invaded my thoughts for 24 hours now. Not that all the memories are bad. Before the accident we’d had a wonderful life in a beautiful place. We’d lived in a riverside town, had 2 beautiful boys together and the MC was the best family I could ever have asked for. The problem was that the only memories coming through right now were the bad ones, the delivery of the bad news, the funeral and the 12 months that followed, and I needed them to go away.

I’d tried calling the hospital this morning to check on the man in the accident but had been told that as I wasn’t family, they couldn’t tell me anything. Not even just if he’d survived. Had I been given that information, it might be a lot easier to move on right now. Instead, however, here I lay in the sunshine forcing my mind to still. Forcing myself to clear out the bad stuff.

After about 20 minutes of soaking up the sun, I sat up, crossed my legs and pulled out a drink. As always with the first one, it went down way too easy. I took stock of the beauty around me. This place really was breathtaking with its high mountainous terrain, tall pines and endless blue skies. On the banks of the lake, a few hundred metres off in the distance I spotted a momma bear and her cub fishing in the shallows and a falcon soared overhead just riding on the warm air currents. I started to relax a little and pulled out another drink. As the bottle emptied so did my troubled mind and the sounds of nothing but nature took over my consciousness. It’s so easy to get lost in the sound of the breeze through the trees, the rippling of the water and the calling and chirping of all the birds hidden in the surrounding trees. I lay there for a couple of hours just being, just listening to the sounds around me.

I noticed after a while some dark clouds moving in from the south and took this as my cue to think about heading home. I polished off drink number three and figured I’d sober up on the paddle back. As the wind picked up a little, the paddling got harder but the bar was in sight. By the time I got there, it was evident we were in for a full on storm tonight. When I got to the jetty, I pulled my paddleboard out of the water and stored it under the steps tying it off to one of the support poles. I’d get it tomorrow. By the time I’d finished talking to Jameson and drinking bottle number four it would be easier to walk to my cottage up the road in a storm than it would be to paddle.

I walked quickly up the steps to the bar and headed inside to pay my tab. The bar didn’t seem to have a lot of patrons – just a few regulars who enjoyed a drink in the afternoon sun. It also didn’t seem to have any kind of dress code and apparently me wandering in in a wetsuit was perfectly acceptable and didn’t even register a glance from the regulars or Jameson. Speaking of which, he was standing behind the bar with a drink ready for me, an easy smile on his roguish face and a glint of concern in his startling blue eyes. His dark hair was long and untamed and this afternoon, tumbling down over his shoulders.

“Demons banished?”

“Demons banished. Thanks for asking.” I glanced around the bar as I sipped my drink and noticed it was even quieter than usual. “Where’s the rest of the party mate? It’s awful quiet this arvo.”

“Storm’s coming in. You probably noticed?” he said with raised eyebrows. Tends to send most of them scurrying home early. It’ll be quiet till the lads arrive later.”

I’ve not yet seen ‘the lads’ he referred to but I heard them sometimes late at night. They rode in and out on Harleys and got a little loud sometimes. I assumed they were probably part of the local MC. The behaviour was not unfamiliar to me, nor was it offensive. It actually reminded me of home.

“So” he continued “the town rumour mill has gone into overdrive. You’re officially sleeping with 4 married men” he said with a goofy grin on his face. “The single Aussie woman is the town slut.”

I choked on my drink and snorted at him. “Meh, whatever. I wonder if any of them are any good though? It’s been a while…” We both laughed and Jameson continued on with his commentary on the town gossip telling me what they were saying about the owner of the new coffee shop, the mobile dog groomer and grumpy old Mrs Kite who lived at the far end of the street. This kept us amused for a while till he suddenly asked if I’d heard about the motorcycle accident yesterday.

My drink slipped from my hand and I felt the colour drain from my face and I had to hang onto the bar to stop from falling off my stool. All that demon banishing forgotten in a split second.

“Whoa Nellie – you OK?” and he was around my side of the bar, holding me up before I knew what had happened.

“For fucks sake! If there was anything I didn’t want to talk about today – that would be it! So much for drowning those demons!” And for the second time in as many days, I found myself reliving the horror of the past couple of years. I looked hopelessly at Jameson as the tears started to fall and decided I might as well just let them. Clearly, some things just can’t be kept in.

“I saw that accident yesterday. It was horrible. And I sat with that poor kid, holding his hand and stroking his hair until the paramedics arrived…there was blood everywhere. On him, on the ground, on me. I don’t even know if he’s ok. Oh God, I hope he made it! I would hate for someone else to have to go through that. The bike was so heavy on him. Please let that poor kid be ok. The truck just didn’t stop, didn’t even see him. Have you heard anything?”

I babbled and Jameson just stood in front of me, wide eyed and staring at the crazy lady. When I finally finished babbling he grabbed me from the stool, carried me over to an old overstuffed couch at the back of the bar, put me down and handed me back by drink. “Firstly, drink. Better? Second – he’s alive. I don’t know how ok he is but he made it. I’ll try to find out more for you ok? And lastly – what do you mean about someone else going through that? What on earth happened to you?”

And so I let it all just fall out, the whole depressing saga, starting with what a beautiful day it was.

It was a gorgeous day. Perfect day for a birthday. Warm and sunny but not too hot, blue skies and a bit of a breeze. Promises of a hot summer coming but thankfully not here yet. My husband Pipes had decided it was too good an opportunity to pass up. He was disappointed that a club run had not been planned for such a perfect day but decided to call his VP, Ranger and head out into the big blue for a couple of hours. Blokes, bikes and maybe a beer at the Shady Gum on the way home. He also called some of the other members to see if they could organise a last minute BBQ at the club house for that night. I had lunch planned with my best friend and figured we’d do family celebrations at dinner.

They headed off following the river in the direction of the coast. There were a couple of newly re-surfaced, windy down-hill runs they wanted to try out. Sadly, the bottom of the second one was as far as they got. This one ended in a major intersection. Pipes and Ranger had the green light so they just sailed on through. Unfortunately so did the drunk driver of the truck coming from their left. There was no queue of traffic to stop him and he was so blind drunk he didn’t register the red light or the bike in front of him.

Pipes was killed instantly – so they tell me. Ranger believes it. Says there’s no way he could ever have survived a hit like that. Ranger was in shock and in such a rage that the cops sedated and cuffed him rather than letting him deliver the news to me himself. I’m pretty sure he never forgave himself for that.

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