Page 67 of To the Moon and Back
The radio was on. Country music. Something by Thomas Rhett. He turned it down and glanced at her. “I used to pretend you were in the car behind me.” He grinned. Anything to hold on to the good between them. “Did I ever tell you that?”
“No.” She turned in her seat so she was facing him. “Like I was driving behind you?”
“Yeah.” He looked straight ahead again. “I couldn’t find you. So I let myself believe you were there.” He raised his brow in her direction. “Does that freak you out?”
She laughed. “I mean, it’s sad, but no.” A quick pause. “Of course, if you actually saw me in the car behind you I’d have to wonder.”
“It never got that bad.” Not quite true, but Brady liked the easy banter too much to be too honest now. There were definitely times when he looked in his rearview mirror and saw her. His imagination was that strong.
“I have to say, I never pretended you were in the car behind me.” Jenna looked relaxed, happy.
“Never?” He mouthed the word in her direction. Then he feigned a knife through his heart. “Ouch.” Another glance in her direction. “And the mall.” He allowed a quiet laugh. “I pretended we were shopping in different stores. That we’d meet up for lunch, but then . . .” His laughter faded. “Lunch never came.”
Jenna watched him, her expression tender again. “I never got to the place of seeing you where you weren’t.” She didn’t look away. “Every time I remembered that day, I was sure there was a reason you never called. Like you had a girlfriend. Or maybe you’d just moved on like the rest of the club.”
He nodded a few times. “The club.” They were almost at the park. “I stopped looking for familiar faces after you didn’t come back the next year. Since then . . .” His voice trailed off. “I guess I haven’t thought much about the club.”
They reached the park and Brady found a spot at the back of the lot. More walking. Better for his recovery. He’d been worried about getting on a bike. Before the accident, his workouts were hours at a time. He could’ve biked up the side of a mountain. Thirty miles would be a cooldown.
But now, he wasn’t sure he’d find his balance, or if his legs would move the way they were supposed to. Also it was hotter than it had been all month. Hot and humid. Some days Brady still felt his energy drop off, sometimes without warning.
Not that it mattered. He would get through this bike ride no matter what toll it took on him. Clouds gathered in the distance and Brady remembered that thunderstorms were forecast. Maybe they should cut the ride short.
Jenna looked up. “Glad we’re starting now.” She didn’t say what she was probably thinking. That the worst thing would be for them to get caught in a storm. A slippery path could make even the simplest ride hazardous.
They rented bikes from a booth near the parking lot. Jenna climbed on hers first, and Brady stayed behind her. If he couldn’t work the pedals he didn’t want her to see him fall. He clenched his teeth, his determination fierce. His first attempt was a fail. He slid off the seat, his legs on either side of the frame.
Then in a single motion he tried again and he was on, his feet and legs working just as they should. Jenna looked back. “You’ve got it!”
There was a humiliation in realizing that anyone was celebrating the fact he could ride a bike. Especially Jenna. But in this situation Brady didn’t care. He might as well have won gold in the Olympics. He was riding a bike! Nearly three months ago he had almost died. And now he was pedaling through a city park with Jenna.
Life was good.
They rode four miles of path before taking a break. Jenna’s idea. Brady had water bottles in his backpack and he grabbed one for each of them. She took a long sip. “How do you feel?”
He looked at her, searched her face and her eyes. “Perfect.”
“Good.” She drank more water, put the lid back on and handed him the bottle. She seemed to notice the storm moving closer on the horizon. “Maybe we should turn back.”
“Another couple miles.” He breathed in deep. “I’ve never felt so alive in all my life.”
He wanted to kiss her again, take her in his arms and get back to the bike ride later. But today couldn’t be about that. He wanted to know her heart, her thoughts. What she wanted for tomorrow and next month and ten years from now.
The conversation they both seemed to keep avoiding.
Brady led the way this time. His legs didn’t hurt, and by the end of the next few miles he had forgotten about the rods in his thighs or the approaching storm or the fact that the summer was waning.
After a while, they reached a grove of flowering dogwoods and black walnut trees. They stopped their bikes and climbed off. Only then did Brady realize he was breathing too hard. Exhale. Just exhale.
“You okay?” Jenna walked her bicycle beside him and leaned on the seat. Her eyes clouded with worry. “We should go back.”
“No. I’m . . . fine.” Another few out-breaths . There. He felt the panic subside. He could fill his lungs with air again. “I’m a little rusty. That’s all.” He wanted to talk about something else. “I love trees. I always have.”
“Me, too.” Jenna lifted her eyes to the branches overhead. “Ever since that first time at the memorial.”
“Yeah. Who knew so much heart and emotion could come from an elm.”
“Mmmm. True.” Jenna smiled at him. “I see the branches like arms, lifted to heaven. Praising God. Because the creation can’t do anything else.” Her eyes were flirty, her tone carefree. This wasn’t one of those moments, where she almost seemed like she was testing him, his faith.
