One You Can’t Forget

“An ultimatum?” Luke shrugged. “I’m not choosing you.”

“But—”

“It’s time you leave,” he said coldly.

Her eyes grew wide, and then narrowed. “Fine, Luke.” She marched to the front of the shop and slammed the door.

Luke stood there a second at his desk, then slapped his empty coffee cup across the room. It landed with a dull thud, the handle breaking off. “Fuck!”

The door to the work bay opened, and Gibs poked his head in. “Everything okay, boss?”

“Get back to work,” growled Luke.

“Okey dokey, boss. But if you want my two cents, good riddance.”

“I didn’t ask you. Now go!”

“Yes, sir!” Gibs shut the door, and Luke bent over to pick up his cup. Damn. It was his favorite coffee cup; the Harley-Davidson black mug, chrome flames rising from the bottom.

It was his fault, all of it. He should have known from the first time she refused to go on a ride with him that she wasn’t the woman for him. But then, that’s what he did, pick women he knew in his heart weren’t right.

The thought unsettled Luke and he shook his head. It didn’t do any good to dwell on it. He set the mug on his desk and sat in the well-worn leather chair behind it. Luke opened the drawers looking for some glue to fix the mug, but didn’t see any. “Shit,” he muttered. “In a place that fixes things you’d think we’d have some glue.”

A customer came in and Luke pushed aside his thoughts about the mug and Deirdre. “How can I help you?” he asked with a big smile.

#

The customer left after arranging for Luke to pick up the bike and bring it to the shop for a repair estimate. Luke was happy to perform this service. With the shop’s worthy rep and the fastidiousness riders had for keeping up their bikes, Luke rarely lost a job because of price.

Luke filled the broken coffee mug with the black liquid and sat back at his desk. He opened the newspaper again, thinking he could get ten minutes to check out the police blotter. What he saw nearly made him spit his coffee out.

SPEEDING, GRAND THEFT AUTO, Emily Rose Dougherty, 28, of 220 Circle Road, Apt. B, Walkerville was charged on April 6 with speeding, reckless endangerment, and grand theft auto. Following arrest was released on a $10,000 bond with an appearance for an April 13 court date.

Emily? His Emily? Grand Theft Auto? It couldn’t be her. Except... the age was right and Walkerville was one town over. No wonder he never saw her around Westfield. If there was one thing true about Connecticut, people congregated in their own little towns and rarely reached out to others. At least she bonded out. Still, he wondered what was going on. Emily wouldn’t so much as cross against a traffic light. Grand Theft Auto sounded beyond her skill or interest level. No, Luke decided, his Emily would never commit a crime. There had to be some sort of mistake.

Of course there was that date, that infamous date, when he and Emily’s life changed forever. That stupid accident, but it put him out of school for months and he couldn’t graduate with his class. Worse yet, Emily’s parents forbid her to see him. That, he had learned from Emily’s sister, Angela. It had made his recovery that much more difficult. A fractured tibia is a painful injury, made more so by the long slow healing process the leg needed. He couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. Losing Emily devastated him, and while his friends visited, it wasn’t the same. He missed her. Then he grew angry at her, and later himself.

Finally he resolved himself to the situation and let her go.

Now here was an opportunity just to tell her—what? That he still loved her? No, that would be bad. Who knew how she felt now. Hell, she probably had a boyfriend, maybe a husband. Not all women changed their names when they got married. She probably didn’t remember him.

Luke scrambled around his desk for something to write on and cursed himself for not having anything within reach. Who wrote letters anyway? Everyone texted or emailed. Finally, Luke found one of the promotional postcards he had made when he opened the shop four years ago. It was a little brown around the edges, but it would have to do. He grabbed one of the pens embossed with Luke’s Bike Repair and put the end in his mouth, thinking what he should write.

Everything he came up with sounded dorky. He couldn’t write; ‘How have you been?’ Clearly she had some bad luck going on. ‘Where you been after all these years?’ That sounded pathetic. He hit on a thought, one line that he thought would fit everything the best way it could for the situation. He wrote:

I still think about you.

Satisfied with that line, he added the address to it. One of the guys distracted him then, so when he took it later to the post office to get a stamp, he didn’t notice he hadn’t signed it.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Postcard

Emily couldn’t shake the shock after the arraignment. The week before, she fretted about what would happen, and it turned out that nothing happened at all. She went in with Justin to the Middletown Superior Courthouse and waited for the clerk to call her case. After a couple hours, she stood and gave her not guilty plea. Her bond was continued, and a court date of two weeks given.