Nolan: Return to Signal Bend Read online

  “Little bit. Come on back and talk to me.”

  Knowing exactly what he wanted to talk about, Iris sighed and followed him around to the door of his mancave.

  She smiled at the vintage Harley sign hanging on the wall, in pride of place with the big collage frames of Horde photos and family photos. She’d known he’d love that old sign. Rose was a snob.

  Wanting to avoid the topic of Nolan for as long as she could, while he went to his mini-fridge, she took her coat off and tossed it over a dolly near the door, then went over to the bones of the bike he was working on.

  “This isn’t a Harley.” She’d never ridden anything but bitch, but she had always liked to sit with her dad while he tinkered on bikes, and she’d picked up a little about them. This bike didn’t seem that old, either. Normally, when he tinkered with anything but a Harley, it was seriously vintage, like the sweet 1943 Indian Scout he had under cover in another bay of the garage.

  Her dad brought her an open beer. He had one, too. They knocked bottles and drank.

  “No, it’s a Victory Vegas. 2005.”

  Twenty-three years old was barely vintage. She was twenty-three. “You thinking you’ll sell it?” She knew he wouldn’t ride anything but a Harley, unless it was an antique. And even then—the Indian almost never went on the road, as far as she knew.

  “I don’t know. We’ll see how it goes. Right now, you know, just keepin’ myself busy.”

  “It’s pretty.” It was still bones, but she could tell that it would be a pretty bike.

  “Yeah, Victory has a nice look. Sleeker than a Harley, but still brawny. Easier to handle. How’s your job going?”

  Iris loved Jubilee, and Geoff was a great boss. He’d said ‘we’ a lot while he was telling her about the job, but the ‘we’ had turned out to be the royal kind. With the exception of a hauling service he contracted with, Iris was his only employee. He wanted to hire at least one more person part-time, so that he could have help when he was out ‘hunting,’ as he called it, and wouldn’t have to close the store to get it.

  Iris was looking forward to going ‘hunting’ with him. There were so many interesting, unusual items in the shop, and she wanted to go digging around in attics and old barns to discover more. During slow times, Geoff talked about what it was like to root around in a building that maybe hadn’t been opened in a couple of decades, after an elderly person had died and the family was liquidating the estate.

  When Iris had wondered if that wasn’t a little bit ghoulish, Geoff hadn’t been offended. But he’d disagreed and told her that there was a story in those old places. He said he got to know the people who’d stashed their ‘old junk’ away. It hadn’t been junk to them; they hadn’t been able to part with it. Rusty or broken or incomplete, it held meaning. Because it was their story.

  Iris relished that way of thinking about it.

  “The job is great. I really love it, and Geoff is cool. When it gets warmer, he said he’ll take me hunting with him.”

  “Huh?” Her dad frowned.

  Hunting was something she and her dad had done together, so she guessed he was jealous. She smiled and bumped her hip into his leg. “Not with a gun. Looking for new stuff. Estate sales and stuff like that.”

  “Ah, okay.”

  Iris decided to just get on with it. “Daddy, you can just say what you want to say.”

  He chuckled and bent down to kiss the top of her head. “Shannon says I’m to keep my mouth shut.”

  “You’re not doing a great job at it, though.”

  “What? I didn’t say anything I was thinking this morning. Or do anything I wanted to do.”

  She took his hand. “Let’s talk. It’s okay. As long as you listen, too.” She led him to the loveseat, and they sat down.

  Her dad finished his beer. “You wanting to stay—is that about him?”

  “Rule number one: You have to use his name. He’s not just some random guy.”

  “Is it about Nolan?”

  “It wasn’t, no. Last night was—we weren’t together before that. I made the decision to be here before I knew we’d be together at all. I want to stay because I love it here. This has always felt more like home than anywhere else I’ve lived.”

  “You sure about that? You went away to college and all you want to do is live here and work on Main Street?”

  They’d already had this conversation. She thought they had, at least. “Yeah, Daddy. I never wanted to be anything. I’m not like Rose. I just want to have a home and a family and be happy. I don’t know why everybody wants me to go looking for something when I already know where it is.” Her throat felt tight, and her vision blurred. “Does that disappoint you?”

  He reached his arm out and pulled her tight to his chest. “No, baby flower. Hell, no.” He pressed his lips to her head. “If what you want is here, then I’m glad. So glad. I missed you so much while you were growing up. If I can have you here with me now, then the last thing I am is disappointed. All I want for you is what you want.”

  She snuggled as close as she could to his broad, hard chest. Being in his arms really did feel like being hugged by a bear. “I want Nolan, too, Daddy.”

  All she heard for a long time was the wind rattling against the closed overhead door. “Okay, then. But be careful, Iris. And come to me if you need me.”

  “He’s not a bad guy, Daddy. You know he’s not. He’s good.”

  She felt him nod. “He is. I love him. But I know him better than you do. He’s been through some shit in his life, baby. He’s got a hot head and a sad heart. He has trouble standing still, too. I don’t want you hurt.”

  “I think I love him, too. And he needs it. I can feel it.”

  “Fuck, Iris. Don’t love him to save him. Think about yourself, too. What you need.”

  “I have everything I need. I have you and Signal Bend and my new job. Nolan is what I want.”

  “You’re so young. Life is more complicated than that. Love is much more complicated than that.”

  Her father, it seemed, would never see her as a woman. She’d always be his ‘baby flower.’ Normally, she liked it. She called him ‘Daddy’ and liked being wrapped up tight in his arms. She even liked when he lifted her off the floor with his hugs. But right now, he needed to understand that she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

  She sat up and looked her father in the eye. “I’ll be okay, Daddy. I want this.”

  He sighed and cupped his hand around the side of her head. “Okay. I’m here. I’m always here, no matter what.”

  “I know. I love you.” She threw her arms around his neck and let him pull her onto his lap for another hug.

  ~oOo~

  That night, Iris lay in her bed, in the little room that had once been Daisy’s, and thought about Nolan, and her father, and Signal Bend. What she wanted, and why she wanted it.

  Mostly, she thought about the night before. Nolan had been…intense. More than she’d been prepared for. Last night, she’d realized how deep his need went, and—though she would admit it only to herself—it scared her a little bit.

  He was still in love with that girl—Analisa. She’d watched the video again after Nolan had dropped her off. Analisa Winter, daughter of movie stars. They were about the same age, or would have been if she had lived.

  Everything Iris had said to him had been true. She understood, and she wasn’t threatened. She hadn’t loved being called her name, but it hadn’t made her feel insecure or insulted. She understood. He loved Analisa, and she was gone, and he hadn’t loved anyone but her.

  He’d still been wearing her around his neck. She was tattooed on his chest.

  Iris didn’t worry that she was competing with a ghost. She felt like she could coexist with the memory of Analisa Winter. After all, it had been Nolan’s evident love for the girl that had made Iris see him the way she did, that had made her want the chance to know his love.

  But his love was a raw, desperate thing, like a beast that had been caged up and s
tarved. Last night had been only a hint of that love, and it had been a torrent of emotion and sensation. He was sweet and kind and gentle, and hurting and sad, but then there was that hungering, ravenous part, too, that had seemed to want to pull her bodily into himself, that had seemed to forget that she was more than just a thing he needed.

  There had been a moment when he’d looked surprised to find her in his arms. That had been a lot harder to take than being called by another girl’s name.

  And yet—it was appealing, too. She liked his need. His hunger fed something inside her. It probably wasn’t the healthiest beginning of a relationship—her father obviously didn’t think so—but it was a beginning, and maybe something good could grow from it.

  In the meantime, he really did need her. She felt it in his touch, saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice.

  She rolled to her side, bringing Toby, the teddy bear she’d slept with since she was eight, tight to her chest, and went to sleep thinking of how safe she’d felt sleeping in Nolan’s arms.

  ~oOo~

  “What about this one?” Millie held up a lipstick and turned the tube until the entire stick was out.

  “Watch it. Roll it back down until just the tip is out, or it’ll break off. Raven Red, huh? Try it out. Be careful not to bump me, though, okay?”

  While Millie smeared vampy lipstick on her little lips, Iris leaned in close to the mirror and worked on her eyeliner. She got the wings right about seventy percent of the time. Today seemed to be on point.

  Millie stopped pouting her bright-red lips at the mirror and watched Iris instead. “Can you do that for me?”

  “Not today, Mills. I have to get to work, and you have to go to school.”

  “We have the doctor first.”

  “I don’t think your mom wants you at the doctor all made up, either.”

  Rolling to her knees on the counter, Millie peered closely at Iris’s reflection as she finished the liner for one eye. “Mom doesn’t do that. You look like a Bratz doll.”

  Deciding to take that as a compliment, Iris smiled. “There’s lots of ways to wear makeup. You just have to find the way you like best.”

  “I like red lips and Brat eyes. Do boys like girls like that?”

  Iris dropped her hand, surprised. Millie was nine. That seemed young to be wondering what boys like. “Some do, sure. Boys like lots of different girls, and girls like lots of different boys. Some boys like boys. And some girls like girls.”

  Millie nodded. “Eloise has two moms. I think that’s sad.”

  “How come?”

  “Because she doesn’t have a daddy. Daddies are important. It would make me sad not to have Daddy.”

  “It would make me sad, too. Our Daddy is awesome. Daddies are important. But love is most important, wherever it comes from.”

  Iris had not expected to get into a conversation like that before eight o’clock on a Monday morning, and she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. She knew that Shannon and her dad wouldn’t want Millie to be judging anyone, or pitying them, because of who their family was. Her dad wasn’t completely enlightened about the topic—he got uncomfortable and stonily quiet—but they were a ‘live and let live’ family. Still, Iris didn’t know where to go with the discussion at the moment.

  But she was rescued from the problem.

  “Camille Margaret Ryan, why isn’t your bed made?” Shannon called from down the hallway.

  Iris and Millie stared at each other in the mirror, Iris mimicking Millie’s guilty surprise. “Uh-oh. Your whole name. You better scoot.” When Millie jumped down, Iris handed her a tissue. “Best wipe the Raven Red off, too.”

  Millie did, leaving a deep red smear on her cheek. She tossed the tissue without regard to where it would land and scampered back to her room.

  Freed from her big sister responsibilities, Iris got back to work on her winged eyeliner.

  ~oOo~

  Things were quiet on Main Street. The After-Christmas sales were mostly over, besides some 75% Off! bins in the shops, and the weather was cold and grey. The strong winds of the day before carried on through the day. Most of the snow had blown away into drifts along the sides of buildings and against the boardwalk.

  Iris was still learning about all the stock in Jubilee, and when she’d asked about a rack of folios filled with old photographs, Geoff had pulled one out and sat down on the floor in the middle of the main room. He’d opened the folio, and now they were sitting together, wearing thin white gloves, in the center of an arc of photos, many of them daguerreotype.

  Iris recognized the style of photo right away. She’d written a paper on this nineteenth-century trend: Memento mori. Photographs of the beloved dead. They were meant as keepsakes, a last remembrance of a loved one. In the early age of photography, it might have been the only visual image a family had, especially in the case of the death of a child.

  Many of the images spread out before them were of children. Mothers holding their dead babies. Families gathered around tiny caskets. Others were of adults on their deathbeds. In others, the deceased was posed as if in life, wearing a wedding dress or a military uniform, propped awkwardly on a chair, either alone or seated with the bereaved husband or wife.

  Her research had given her a lot of facts about how, when, where, and what, but the why was the most interesting question for Iris. Though the pictures were eerie and sometimes downright gruesome, she thought them beautiful and sad—love’s desperate attempt to hold onto anything, the smallest little bit of memory. A photograph wasn’t a memory. It was the catalyst for memory. The thing you held onto so you wouldn’t forget.

  She thought of the little silver star on the leather cord.

  “Iris? Are you okay?”

  She looked up at Geoff, and tears slid down her face. She swiped them away. “Yeah—sorry. Just…these hurt my heart.”

  With a curious tilt of his head, Geoff smiled at her. “Me too. Some people think they’re ghastly, but I understand them.”

  “What kind of people collect these?”

  “Not many. Some like the macabre aspect. Others collect daguerreotypes and are interested in the craft and composition. Once, back when I had my shop in Kimmswick, I had somebody in who was family to the people in a photo. She was doing her family tree, and she just happened upon the photo in my shop. That was pretty special. I gave it to her. Didn’t feel like it was mine to sell to her.”

  “You are a cool guy, Geoff.”

  He laughed. “Not cool, no. I’ll take nice, though.”

  “You’re absolutely nice.”

  ~oOo~

  After supper with the family that night, knowing that Nolan was on patrol and what that meant, Iris changed into a much cuter outfit: dark jeans and her red boots, and a low-cut black top. She fixed her hair and touched up her makeup.

  When she trotted downstairs and grabbed her leather jacket off the hall tree, her dad, sitting in the living room with Shannon, called, “Where you headed?”

  “I’m a grownup, Daddy. I’ll call if I need you.”

  “Iris Elaine Ryan,” she heard him grunt as he stood up, “around here, we tell our family where we’re going and when we’ll be home.”

  She gave him the incredulous look that statement deserved. “When have you ever known when you were going to be home? Or said where you would be?”

  Actually, as she said the words, she realized that yeah, for the past few years, he’d usually known both. He was a more or less regular guy now.

  He didn’t respond except to cross his arms and glare down at her in his Paul Bunyan pose.

  “I’m going to Tuck’s,” she conceded. “I will be fine, because Nolan will be there. I don’t know when I’ll be home, but I will, because I have to work in the morning.”

  “You’re going to Tuck’s in that?” He cocked a fatherly eyebrow at her cleavage.

  “Okay, Show.” And there was Shannon, to the rescue again. Iris could practically see the leash. And the choke collar. Her s
tepmother pulled on her father’s arm, but he didn’t budge.

  Shannon leaned around him and smiled at Iris. “Call if you’ll be later than midnight, okay? Otherwise, I won’t get him to go up to bed.”

  “Okay, I’ll call. Bye, Shannon.” She expressly didn’t say goodbye to her father. The papa bear deal was already getting old.

  As Iris left, she had her first thought that she wouldn’t be able to live at home for long.

  That made her sad.