Page 96 of A Murderous Crow
“You emptied those of everything but the bare necessities, right? Mom is going to send us back here with all that we can carry and then some,” I warned him and Corvus laughed lightly.
“Heard, acknowledged, and understood, my love; and yes. Nothing but the roadside emergency kit which barely takes up half of one of them,” he said of the hard sided cases on his bike. I didn’t know what you called them.
“Think I’m ready for a ride this long?” I asked skeptically. Truth be told, I needed the pep talk. Freeway speeds on that thing scared the shit out of me. Worse than a rollercoaster, because there was nothing between me and the rushing pavement. No safety measures to speak of.
“Baby, you’re ready, and I promise, I’ll keep you safe and it’s going to be fine.”
He held out his hand to me, the side gates already open and waiting for us to depart.
“Okay then,” I shouldered the backpack and slipped both arms through the straps and took his hand. He helped me put on the helmet and I shooed him with a motion of my hands. He got on and started the bike, pulling out the courtyard, and I closed and latched the gates behind us, running the chain and closing up the padlock tight, pulling on things to make sure there wasn’t enough give for anyone to slip through.
He watched me, eyes unreadable behind his sunglasses as I pulled on my gloves and went up to him, just half chilling on the sidewalk, and climbed aboard behind him.
I lied. Freeway all the way to my family’s farm was fuckingharrowing. I much preferred the lower more sedatespeeds riding through Savannah traffic as compared to dodging rampaging drivers and even semi-trucks on the interstate. Actually, the worse part was dodging shredded tire pieces from the semis.
Thankfully, Corvus took pity on me, and we stopped every half an hour to forty-five minutes for a drink or to use the restroom. Which while I could appreciate the breaks, it was almost worse than just getting there! The anxiety of climbing back on the bike nearly worsening every time I had to re-mount or re-board it or whatever.
Just my luck I would wind up a biker’s girlfriend and would low-key hate riding his motorcycle.
The best part about it, really, was being close to him, and holding on tight.
Pulling under the arch that saidKittridge Farmshad me breathing a sigh of relief, even as going up the dirt and gravel track to the house was a harrowing ride.
The drive split in two at one point, an old-fashioned handcrafted picket sign pointing to the left sayingFarm Standand to the right,Private Property.Then another to the left sayingOrchard.
My grandfather had made it, and someone had freshened it up with new paint, and very recently. We took the right track to the house, pulling up into the drive around the giant weeping willow tree in front of the wrap-around porch. My mom and dad were sitting on the porch swing with their peach sweet tea, as they did in the evenings, and my mom jumped up – presumably to holler at us that we had taken the wrong drive and that the farm stand was closed.
I was so excited, as Corvus cut the engine and leaned the bike onto its stand as my mother gave her spiel in her polite southern drawl.
I took off my gloves and shoved them in my pocket and undid the clasp under my chin, pulling off the helmet to shake out my hair.
“Savvy!?” my mother cried.
“Well, I’ll be!” my dad crowed, as I rushed up the steps to hug them.
It’d been almost a year. I’d been keeping very busy to keep things going.
We hugged and squealed and Mom started to cry she was so happy, and I pulled back.
“Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend Corvus. We hope you don’t mind, but we thought we’d come up and surprise you for the weekend.”
My mom and dad looked past me to Corvus coming up the steps. He stuck out his hand to my dad, and said, “Corbett Prescott, everyone calls me Corvus.” He shook hands with my father, and you never would have known how nervous he was except for a slight tightness around his eyes.
“Corvus? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” My dad said his name like a question, just trying to get it right, and Corvus nodded when he did, giving my dad’s hand a hearty shake.
“Are you hungry?” my mother asked, ever the proper southern hostess. “We just finished up supper, and there’s still plenty.”
“I could eat,” Corvus said with an almost shy smile. “Savannah’s done nothing but brag nonstop about your cooking, Mrs. Kittridge.”
“Oh, please, call me Sally,” she said beaming. “And you.” She turned to me. “What have you been eating down there? You’re nothing but skin and bones!” She put her arm around my shoulders and led me into the house.
“Chance!” my mother called out for my younger brother. “Chance! You’ll never believe who’s here!” she called as we passed the stairs.
My little brother came thundering down the stairs and hopped the banister.
“Savvy!” he cried and wrapped me in the biggest hug.
“Woah!” I cried and looked up at him. “When didthathappen?” I demanded. He was nineteen and working the farm – learning from dad and taking some classes at the community college now. Still, apparently, he was still growing, because last time I had seen him, I didn’t have to look quite so farup.
