Tessa is standing at the kitchen counter beating a bowl of eggs with a whisk. She gives me a smile when I walk into thekitchen. They seem to be putting the finishing touches on a late breakfast. I can’t help but smile at the warm acceptance she projects.
Christina is standing at the table with her daughter, Katie, who is perched on a stool. Katie is busy buttering bread. There are smears of butter on the counter, the plate, and her fingers. The little one is deep in concentration. Christina patiently lets her get the hang of it.
Queenie smiles at me when I come close to her to grab a cup of coffee. “Mornin’ sunshine,” she teases.
“Sorry, I slept in.”
“No problem,” she responds, sliding the rest of the bacon she’s frying onto a platter. “We all do that every now and then.”
“I’m making good progress on organizing and archiving the club records.”
“Considering everything you’ve been through, I don’t think we need to rush that job.” She wipes her hands on her apron. “Are you hungry? As soon as the toast is done, we’re gonna settle down at the family table and eat.”
“I’m starving. What can I do to help?”
Queenie shoves the plate of bacon into my hands. “We can start carrying food out.”
“I’m on it.”
The club girls are at the far end of the kitchen making eggs for the prospects on guard duty. There are only a few men left in the building. The rest are out searching for Brennan. I hope they find him and no one gets hurt.
We finish taking out the food and Queenie grabs the pot of coffee and carries it out. There’s something so heartwarming about the whole scene. Seeing Queenie, Tessa, Christina, their children, and the club girls all gathered round.
Family.
The table is made from a huge, thick piece of wood with a raw edge. It’s been sanded smooth and coated with a thick protective finish that reflects the overhead lighting. If you look close enough, you can see tiny lines scratched into it by years of flatware and glasses being moved restlessly around, waiting for the food to arrive or for everyone to finish eating. I love this table and all that it represents.
We finally sit down and put out cups of coffee near the top of our plates, and Queenie passes the first in a long line of platters heaped with food around the table. The first few minutes are quiet as we load up our plates and take the first tentative bites.
Queenie is the first to speak.
“You know, I didn’t grow up thinking this would be my life,” she says, stirring sugar into her coffee. “I thought I’d marry a farmer and raise chickens.”
Tessa teases her mother-in-law. “That sounds like too quiet a life for someone with such a big personality.”
Queenie chuckles. “You ain’t wrong about that, Tess.”
Christina smiles over her mug. “You ended up with a much better life than most women ever have. You and Rock founded a legacy club, carved out a life on your own terms, and had four gorgeous sons who seem determined to stick with the family business. I know that Slate can’t imagine doing anything else with his life besides being VP of this club.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Queenie agrees. “I’m thrilled with my life. I’m just saying that if I’d not ran away, I’d have missed out on the life I love. Sometimes the best things are the ones you don’t see coming.”
Tessa sets her mug down. “I never had a thought in my mind of becoming the club queen of the Sons of Rage MC. I didn’t really understand what this club was all about and thought it was an outlaw club that ran drugs and stuff. Jasper was quick to set me straight about that, and I’m really glad I gave him and this club a chance. I’ve never been happier a day in my life.”
Queenie beams at Tessa and murmurs, “I’m glad you did, honey. You make a good club queen for my Jasper. He’s lucky to have you at his side.”
Tessa’s face lights up. “Oh, let’s be honest. I’m the lucky one because I ended up with a wonderful husband and get to be part of this life.”
Christina senses this is her moment to speak up, so she does. Glancing at me, she explains, “Slate and I met during the war in Afghanistan. We were attracted to each other immediately. A soldier and a reporter might seem like an odd match, but it worked, right up until everything exploded around us.”
I get the sense that she means metaphorically rather than a literal bomb. I don’t know much about the other old ladies so I’m eager to hear more.
“He gave up his seat on the last flight out for me,” Christina says. “I didn’t know until later that they drummed him out of the military on a dishonorable discharge for that. He had to fight his way out on his own.”
“Jesus, it’s shitty that the military didn’t try to help out,” I say, surprised.
“They listed him as AWOL.”
Queenie murmurs quietly, “The military has their own rules and procedures to follow.”
