Page 71 of Carver
I quickly take Ellie to the highchair and get her strapped in, arranging the tray around her. Ella has a plastic plate with potatoes, carrots, and a bright pink baby fork and spoon for her.
The girls both dig in. Penny eats gracefully, while Ellie goes for more of the shoveling technique.
I watch her from the side, to make sure she doesn’t make too much of a mess or stuff too much into her mouth at once.
Lark comes to hover behind Penny’s chair, but not anxiously. She watches me with her soft eyes for a moment before she speaks. I can tell that she’s had the words in her head for a while, but they don’t sound rehearsed.
“Tyrant and Raiden are giving Dominic the whole welcome to the club out there. They’re making sure that he knows that this isn’t the kind of club that’s going to demand time he can’t give, and there’s no expectations that he changes who he is to fit in there. People come as they are, and they’re accepted as they are. That’s the whole point of the Satan’s Angels.” She takes a breath and I wait silently, not sure what I should say, if anything. “When I was younger, I left Hart. I’d grown up here, but when Raiden went to prison, I- it was just really hard. It’s a long story, but I made the wrong decision. I went away for years because I was afraid of what the club meant or could mean. I was young, and I had it all wrong.” She glances nervously at Penny, but she’s absorbed in the dwindling pile of potatoes. “He was okay, but I panicked. It was a hard time. I didn’t have his support. My parents were- uh- that was complicated too. I was in love with Gray- uh- Tyrant, but I still made all the wrong decisions. I was gone for years and I might never have come back if it wasn’t for my mom getting sick. I got here in time to say goodbye…”
She swallows thickly and my own throat prickles and aches for her loss. “There was so much time that I can’t get back. So many misconceptions. I just want to let you know that you don’t have to worry about that. The threats that the club faced back then are over. The club was made for brotherhood, and that’s the idea that Tyrant has really moved forward. That will always be what’s most important. That and the community. That’s what you’re getting from us. Even if Dom never prospected, you’re a friend of the club, which makes you like a sister to us. We stick together. So… I guess that’s a long way of saying welcome to the family.”
Ella has crept up behind Lark and puts her hand on her shoulder. “I married Lark’s brother, and that’s a crazy story too. At first, we weren’t friends. I’m the daughter of a man who caused a lot of pain and hurt here, but that’s behind us now. We’re more than just sisters through marriage. We’re heart sisters. I know that you left your family behind to come here, but I hope that you find another family in all of us.” She laughs, a little awkwardly and self-deprecatingly. “And that’s my long-winded welcome.”
I’m sure she and Lark didn’t have that timed, but the patio door opens, and Tyrant walks in with the steaks. Raiden is right behind him, Dom following them both in.
Tyrant sets the food down on the table and Lark and Ella quickly add the rest of the dishes. I offer to help, but of course they don’t let me.
Lark even cuts a bit of steak into tiny pieces for Ellie.
Penny doesn’t win her battle over not having carrots, but she only has to eat a couple pieces. She’s much more enthusiastic about her steak.
Dom and I get chairs right next to each other. Mine is right beside Ellie’s highchair.
There’s no more big speeches or talk about the club, but the atmosphere feels festive. Like we’re celebrating. Likewe’re being celebrated.
I set my hand on Dom’s knee under the table and share a private smile with him before I go back to watching Ellie shovel steak and potatoes into her mouth.
It’s not just the air that feels celebratory, it’s all the smiling faces around the table, all the kindness and care before we even got here, the support this community has shown us. That’s what truly makes me feel like part of a family already. There’s no mistaking that Hart is our home.
Epilogue
Dominic
Eight Months Later
Ididn’t set up a ring of candles or make a path of rose petals. There are no chocolates or hidden cameras.
It’s just me and Bronte.
We’ll do thisourway, as we’ve done everything in our lives.
I pull up to the shop on the Harley Davidson trike. My arm movement has recovered enough that I can take the Triumph out for short rides, but for stability a tricycle is better. No one gives me any flack for it, being a biker is all about the open road and if this means I can ride free, then it’s all good.
I’ve done my physical therapy religiously, seeing various doctors in Seattle and working through online programs with different specialists. It’s all given me a greater range of motion in my right arm than I ever thought I’d have. As of last month, I’m even able to sculpt with my right hand again, though only for short periods at a time. It’s something that I’ll keep working up to.
I probably could handle a bike now, but I wanted to buy something that Bronte could ride with me. The trike seemed like the best option. It’s stable, easy to handle, and is more than comfortable on long trips.
Bronte’s still breathing wildly with exhilaration from the ride we just took down the freeway from Hart. We rode under the night sky, beneath the starlight, with no destination in mind.
We just rode.
Together.
When I first thought about doing this, I debated taking her out to my land. It’s been cleared now of everything. The house, the shop, the old dumpy trailers, all the scrap metal—all of it is gone. It’s just land. The fields are rented out this summer and being farmed. The last time we drove by, the corn crops are already standing tall and it’s only early June. I wanted one good thing to come from that place. To start new memories there, but something good has already happened. The land is providing. It’s useful. And I don’t necessarily need new memories. The old ones weren’t always pleasant—especially before Bronte—but after her, there were plenty of nights under the stars, afternoons in my workshops, hours and hours together that changed my life.
There’s no forgetting those. I don’t want to replace them. I want to hold onto them, because that’s when everything started.
All those memories led me right to here, to this night, to offering Bronte my hand to help her off the bike.
