Bikers and Pearls by Vicki Wilkerson Page B

him. It was probably for the best. He was tired after
     working on the fliers all afternoon. He didn’t even feel like needling her. Now, he
     wanted to get home, too. In fact, he wished he hadn’t even ridden his Harley to the
     library. Should have driven his Cadillac Escalade to avoid the cold and the wind.
     “I was hoping we could finish the fliers together. Tonight,” he said.
    “There are things that you don’t know,” she said.
    “So, you’re giving up on the rally? Ben, too, huh?” he asked.
    “No, I’m not. I was going to try to help with the golf tournament they are having
     in—”
    He cut her off. “I tried pointing it out last night.” He gathered his thoughts. “All
     those other fundraisers will bring in a couple hundred dollars each. That’s good,
     but we have a chance to bring in thousands. Maybe even tens of thousands. Even so,
     you can’t get over a couple of leather jackets and a few ponytails?” He paused. “I
     guess I was wrong, but I thought there was more to you. I thought you really cared.
     Deeply. About Ben. I thought that was why you stayed with us in the first place.”
    “I do care. I told you. You wouldn’t—”
    “Well, why don’t you stay with us then?” He paused. “We need you.”
    “Why? I’ve done nothing more than be a glorified note taker.”
    “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about today. The other bikers and I can put this
     whole rally together, but we need you to get us a deal on some extra liability insurance—mostly
     for the rides we’ll be giving. The town won’t let us have the rally without it. But
     we need the numbers by tomorrow night. We’re meeting at Marvin’s Bait and Tackle at
     seven. They’re holding the back room open for us.”
    She looked toward the door.
    He had his answer.
    “Hey,” he said, “why don’t I finish this up alone? You can leave if you like.”
    She glanced around the library. The building was nearly empty because it was almost
     time for the doors to close. “Why don’t you let me get copies made of the first one
     we finished? Then you can work on the changes we discussed for the others,” she said.
    Bull sent the copy to the one printer that was shared by all the computers. He reached
     into his pocket to give her the money for the copies.
    “I’ve got enough for them,” she said.
    “No. I insist. Here.” He handed her some bills. “We need lots. I want to take care
     of this for Ben.”
    She took the money and walked away.
    Away. That was what he needed—to get away, too.
    He had been confused. She had helped that little girl at the counter, and she said
     she wanted to help Ben, but April wanted to help in her comfort zone. She wasn’t willing
     to risk anything. She was from one world. And he was from another.
    The two of them were not going to happen.
    …
    April kept checking her watch as she made the copies. Never before had she seen such
     a slow copier.
    “We’re closing in three more minutes,” the librarian said as she pushed a cart against
     the wall.
    April knew that. In fact, she had already seen the security guard leave. Maybe he’d
     be standing outside or securing the perimeter of the library. The building was in
     the old part of town—the part that had burned. After the accident, the Rebels wanted
     revenge against her father, so they set fire to his old hardware store, just a couple
     blocks down the road from the library. The fire department was too small to handle
     the blaze that quickly spread to the adjacent buildings, and much of the town went
     up in smoke. And when it was all over, they discovered not everyone had the insurance
     to rebuild like her father. She had spent years working on the guilt that she’d irrationally
     developed as a child. Guilt about the damaged buildings, about this area turning into
     the bad side of town, about their neighbors being left without businesses and incomes.
     About all the pain that ensued. It really hadn’t been her