Many times, I have looked down at a moribund animal as it pants its last breath and voids its bowels and felt nothing.Too many times to remember.Why am I only now deeply affected by a creature’s cruel trauma?
I have to place Aila’s hands around my waist and remind her to hold on.
“Let’s go to Ben’s, darlin’.See your momma.”
After all the flipflopping Aila has done over the past few days, it is strange to see her so listless and beaten down.The only sign she gives me that lets me know she hasn’t given up is the way her hug gets stronger as we ride away.
Aila is a fighter.She just needs to remember that.
And her lover also happens to be one of the most ruthless vampires who ever sat astride a Harley.
Amelia is waiting on the porch as we cruise up the farm’s driveway.She must have been alerted by the sound of the motorcycle’s thrumming engine.Her eyes are narrowed with critical dislike, and her arms are crossed.
She has no love for me or mine, though Amelia is still on her friendly neighbor settings.
But when Amelia sees my clingy passenger, her frown turns all the way around.
The light coming from inside the house illuminates her face, but it would light up even if there was none.
“Baba!Aila!You changed your mind.Bless Ben.I knew he could convince you.”
The moment Amelia clocks Aila’s expression, she gears up into full-on helicopter mom mode as she ushers her daughter into the house.
“I’m sorry, darling.I should have told you, but I thought we would be safe spending the summer on Landslide together.”
Hunching her shoulders, Aila sits on the living room couch and hides her face by burying her head in her trembling hands and letting the riotous ringlets of her hair fall over her shoulders.I guess she doesn’t want her mom reading her features.
Ben’s dated furniture is still around, but the interior of the house has all those feminine touches that scream “female partner.”A vase of wildflowers.A tray laid with porcelain teacups and silver spoons.The scent of room freshener is heavy in the air.
In the silence, I hear Ben’s truck rattle past.He’s heading to the inn to drop off the luggage.Then he’ll be back here.
Amelia stomps up the wooden staircase and comes back down holding a plastic spray bottle and a comb.She sits down next to her daughter and prods her until Aila turns her back.In this optimal position, Amelia begins spraying the hair product onto her daughter’s hair, fluffing the long strands out and tutting.
“Tsk.Look at this mess.When I used to ride on motorcycles as a teen, I knew to tie my hair back before the biker hit the revs.”
We’re all aware that Amelia is trying to lighten the mood and change the subject, but it still works.Like a drowning person clutching at straws, Aila replies.
“You hung out with bikers, Mom?You naughty hussy, you!”It’s an effort for Aila to say the words cheerfully, but I’m pleased to see she’s making a push to sound normal.
Mother and daughter chuckle together as Amelia tugs the comb through Aila’s thick chestnut hair.
“Every woman must go through the obligatory biker phase during her rebellious teens.It’s part of the whole flying the coop thing.”
Even though she’s busy with the comb, I can see Amelia darting her eyes over to where I am standing at the door.She leaves me hanging there, not inviting me to sit or make myself at home.
“The eighties and nineties were something else.Boy bands on the one hand and Guns n’ Roses on the other.So, yes, Aila, I have sat on my fair share of Harleys.”Amelia stops combing and looks at me.“No judgement.”
It takes a second for me to realize that I’m being included in the conversation.It’s a real “Who, me?”moment.But I’m not feeling it.
“Aila, tell your mom what’s going on.Actually, it would be nice for you to fill me in, too.”
Amelia stands.“I know a lot more about how things are on Landslide than my daughter does, Mr.Hunter.Ben told me.”
The subtle dig she always gets in by getting my name wrong doesn’t bug me.I use both interchangeably, but I kinda love the way Aila has ruthlessly stuck to calling me Theron.I kinda love the way she says it too, with the proper tribal pronunciation: “T’rrron.”
I’m interested to know what Ben told her, so Amelia continues.
“How the Midnight Riders were the original settlers on this island when it was still thought of as a temporary mudslide.How the Riders came here on horseback, swimming their animals through the creek water.And all about the infrastructure your folks laid down before anyone else was here to reap the benefits.”
