“Noon is plenty of time.”She waved in her direction.“You go on to bed.Get a couple hours sleep.I’ll handle the pecan pie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”Olive tousled Freddy’s hair.“Help yourself to coffee and food.”
“Thanks, sis.”
When Jerry rode his Indian Super Chief Limited motorcycle—painted teal blue and bright yellow gold to match his Special Forces patch and tab—into Olive’s driveway, an older man with graying red hair came from around the side of the house.Jerry cut the engine and doffed his helmet.
A haze of applewood smoke and sage clung to the air, making Jerry’s mouth water.
“That’s a beaut,” the man said in an Irish lilt.He wore an apron with a comical turkey face on the front.He wiped his hands on the towel hanging from his waist and extended his hand to Jerry.“Tobias Duncan.”
“Jerry McBride,” he said.“Thank you.My father had it customized for me after I graduated from Ranger school.”He ran his palm over the edge of the windshield.“He built this himself.”
“That is a lovely machine,” Tobias declared.“And such good weather today.Wonderful day for a ride.”
“Yeah, seemed too sunny to waste it on my pickup truck.”
Olive opened the front door.Jerry dismounted from the bike and took an autumn flower bouquet out of the saddlebag, offering it to her as she approached.As she drew closer, Jerry’s heart leaped like a paratrooper practicing parachute landing falls.He spent the last four days just waiting for the moment he could see her again.In thirty years, he’d never felt like this before.
She wore a rust-colored loose top over leggings covered in comical turkeys.For the first time, she had her hair loose instead of in a braid.It cascaded down her back, well below her shoulder blades.
He looked down at his own jeans and black T-shirt, glad he’d chosen to wear casual clothes instead of dressing up.
Her welcoming smile lit up her eyes as she accepted the fall bouquet he offered.“Welcome,” she said.“Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Thank you for having me.”
A red-haired man who looked close to Jerry’s age joined them outside.Olive gestured toward him.“My big brother, Frederick.Freddy, this is Jerry McBride.”
Jerry shook his hand.“Nice to meet you, Freddy.”
“Likewise,” Freddy replied in a southern drawl that echoed Olive’s cadence.
“Nice donor-cycle,” Olive quipped.
“Thanks.It was a gift from my dad,” Jerry responded.He smiled a toothy smile.“You want to ride it, don’t you?”
Freddy laughed, “Oh, he got you, sis!”
Olive joined in the laughter.“Not today.But it is really nice.”
“Thanks.”Jerry secured his helmet to the seat.Glancing at Freddy, he said, “Olive said you came from London.How was your trip?”
“Long flight.But I was able to get a nonstop between Heathrow and Nashville, so it wasn’t terrible.”
Jerry nodded.“That trip does me in on this side.”
“Yeah.I crashed pretty hard yesterday.At least I’m home for a couple of weeks this time.Last time, it was just four days.My brain didn’t know if I was coming or going.”
With a sympathetic chuckle, Jerry said, “Been there, done that.”
“This the Super Chief?”Freddy asked, walking around the bike.
Jerry nodded.“Yeah.Obviously custom.My dad actually makes these windshields.”He indicated the custom acrylic shield.“Makes some crazy amount, like a thousand a year.”
“No kidding?”Freddy asked, folding his arms.
“Well, Sturgis is big in South Dakota.”
