Page 20 of Absolute Valor

The wings of angels are often found on the backs of the least likely people.

—Eric Honeycutt

“We’re spending the night in Florida, so I brought you several pairs of jeans. Dylan wants everyone in an Absolute Power shirt, so I have several of those too.” She set a small stack of the red and black t-shirts beside the jeans and moved around the room in utter confidence—something I lacked when it came to being here. Lainie had arrived before seven this morning, her hair pulled back in a braid, with the ends tucked under to keep it from tangling in the wind. “Austin is handling the hotel reservations, approved by Momma Morgan of course. And everyone else is downstairs getting caffeinated up and ready to leave.” I followed her lead and pulled my hair back into a knot at the back of my head, securing it with the only four hairpins I owned. Unfolding the jeans she had laid on the bed, I held them up to see for myself the first piece of denim I’d had against my skin in years.

“As soon as you get your stuff together, head down stairs so we can go.” Looking at me over her shoulder with her eyes that danced, she exited the room with an exaggerated wink. After she closed the door, I fished through the bottom of my tiny coin purse, feeling the chain lying among the lint and dust balls.

It had been safely tucked in the empty purse since the day Lucas decided he needed to pawn anything of value we had to get new rims for his truck. He’d even snatched the class ring I had right off my finger, never to be seen again. I got over the ring, as I did the money he took on a regular basis. But there was something special to me about the angel wings dangling from the silver chain in my hand. Today, I would take back my life, starting with a set of wings.

Packing took seconds, as I rolled my nightgown into the side pocket of my backpack. Before going downstairs, I tugged and smoothed out any wrinkles I could see on the magazine worthy bed I’d slept on last night, refusing to leave any trace of my presence in the room.

Priscilla stood in the center of the kitchen, her hair hidden behind a bright orange bandanna, diamond earrings dangled from her earlobes erasing any edge she created to her look with the jeans and black t-shirt she wore.

“Well, good mornin’, Darlin. How did you sleep?” She placed the coffee carafe she’d used to fill her cup, back on the island.

“Very well, thank you. I didn’t get a chance to apologize for the intrusion, I could have stayed at the shop last night.”

Setting the cup down gently, she dropped her hands to the polished marble of the countertop. “You most certainly would not have stayed in a broom closet like a box of discarded decorations!” Raising her hand, she pointed her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the garage. “Chase was quicker with the offer than I was last night, that’s all.”

A portly woman dressed in a gray uniform, with short curly hair skirting along the top of her collar, walked into the kitchen. “Oh, my word, where are my manners. Isadora, this is Audrey Helms, she’s going to be staying in the guest room for a spell. Audrey, this is our housekeeper, and resident general, Isadora Lafontaine.”

Both women laughed with a mutual understanding of the joke regarding her role in the house. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Isadora rounded the island; her arms open wide letting me know a handshake wasn’t on the menu. Her accent was thick, but not southern, it sounded French with a little low country to it. “Chase has already been to town and back for your boots and such,” she laughed as she pulled away. “Ain’t seen that boy this excited ‘bout a girl since Becky Sue Crawley, and she was only here to build a science project.” She let me go, a chuckle in her words. Clasping her soft, warm hands around my cheeks, her eyes pierced mine, searching their depths for something, good, bad, or indifferent—I wasn’t sure.

She reminded me of Celine, the woman who ran the corner store down the street from my house. Originally from Louisiana, she always had something cooking in her store. The aromas would bring the locals running to get a bite of Miss Cece’s cooking. I never had any money to spend, but that didn’t stop her from making sure I had a bowl of whatever she was cooking at the time.

“Miss Audrey, what a beautiful necklace you have on.” Lifting the pendant from my chest, she called over her shoulder at Priscilla and moved slightly to the side. “Don’t you think so, Cilla?”

The two women stand before me and suddenly I feel like one of the monkeys at the zoo. “Would you look at that?” Tone is everything in a conversation; it can change the way a person reacts to what is being said. Priscilla’s tone is questioning, with an edge of disbelief. I’m choosing not to follow the breadcrumbs, refusing to fall down the rabbit hole of endless questions. “Don’t recall ever seeing this one on ya, is it new?”

I’ll give it to her, Priscilla is observant, which is a good trait to have, but I’m a master at avoidance. “Not new, just not worn often. I thought it would be nice considering the theme of the day.” Shifting my eyes back to the bandana on her head. “You are as well, I see. You’ve got your hot biker Momma thing, going on.”

From the smile on her face and the wiggle in her hip, I find most people are vain enough to take a compliment and forget everything else. Priscilla Morgan is no exception to the rule. Removing myself from the room was the best policy. As the two ladies discuss how their hips were when they were girls and how the fat comes out of just looking at food, I silently slip out the back.

The garage is massive, not that I expected anything else. The three bay doors are open, letting the chill of the early Charleston morning breeze in. I’m not a car person, never have been and have I no clue what the brands of shiny black, male versions of wet dreams are sitting inside. But I do have an understanding of trucks, one I’ve earned from heated arguments between Lucas and his friends. All he talks about is how he has wanted a Ford Shelby Edition. With less than five hundred made, and a price tag nearly triple of a normal truck, talking is all he’s been able to do.

Chase stood beside the lowered tailgate, his tight jeans doing more for my heart than an entire pot of extra strong coffee could ever manage. A ball cap covered his hair with the bill facing backward and muscles straining as he moved several boxes to the edge of the tailgate.

“Wow, Audrey, you have killer legs.” Claire announced, causing me to jump at both the level of her voice, and the act of being caught.

Chase looked over his shoulder, scanning my body up and down. His blue eyes took on the hue from last night, predatory and hungry.

“You’re as purty as a speckled pup under a red wagon.” Dylan adds as he nudges Chase in the arm.

Chase pushed away from the truck, his forearms on full display in his sleeveless shirt, the armholes extending to his ribs. As he turned around, the Marine logo, faded from too many washings, rippled in the breeze.

“Legs like that will make a man do crazy, voodoo things,” Austin joined in, while Lainie tossed him a look in warning. “I wasn’t gonna be mean, Darlin’. I love you to death and back, but you’re on your own for boots at five in the bleeding mornin’”

I knew this was a bad idea, Chase has already been through too much for me. When I’d left the hollow of my hiding spot last night, I waited for a good hour to see if I could catch a glimpse of him going down the hall, but he never appeared. To look at him though, you’d never be able to tell he was running on fumes.

“Ya’ll hush,” Chase reprimanded, his brow bending with his aggravation. “Don’t listen to them, Audrey. They’re just jealous I’m not as nice to them.” Motioning me toward him and the massive truck. “Then again, they ain’t as beautiful as you are either, Sweetness.”

Charm flowed from the Morgan men in abundance. Compliments came as quickly for the women in their lives as curse words did for the men around them. Chase, by comparison, was the most flirtatious, his nature to bring a smile to a lady’s face increased the older the woman was. How wonderful would it be if his pet name for me was genuine and not a product of his personality.

“I had to guess at your size since I couldn’t locate another pair of shoes back at the shop, so I grabbed several sizes.” Lined up just inside the bed of the truck, were five different boxes of boots, the covers off and the sweet smell of leather permeating from the cardboard. “Pick whichever one you want, don’t be shy.” I couldn’t remember this many boxes of boots being in the shop. As I was about to ask where they came from, I noticed a row of white tents had been erected down the long drive. Merchants were selling various riding items, alongside a man who was collecting money and giving a black ribbon in return. Several rows of parked motorcycles were already waiting in line to start the run. Chase hadn’t run back into town as the housekeeper suspected, he’d walked across the cement drive and asked to see a few pair.

A pair of lace ups caught my attention. Solid black with a low heel and matching laces. While they were far from feminine, I loved the practicality of them. Pulling the left one out of the box, the soft leather felt foreign between my fingers. I hadn’t seen real leather anything in such a long time. It hadn’t changed much, still smelled like heaven and lasted forever. A deep voice called out for Chase, referring to him as Sergeant or something. Chase walked over to the man wearing a vest, gray hair down his back in a long braid. The men shook hands and began talking about tours of duty.

Giving me shelter for the night was one thing, but buying expensive leather boots was another. Picking up the box, I sidestepped the men and their conversation and headed in the direction of the vendor with the jackets and boots. As I stepped into the shade his cover offered, another couple were looking at the rack of vests. The woman commenting on how she couldn’t decide on which color she liked best. A tall man standing off to the side noticed me looking around, “Let me know if I can show you anything, Ma’am.”

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