English muffin, I thought about her irrational anxiety and felt a lump in my throat. Aging was part of life, but I wished people could leave earth in a blaze of glory like Elijah, not spiral down into pathetic incompetence.
'Are you all right?' Mrs. Fairmont interrupted my thoughts.
'Yes ma'am. Would you like another cup of coffee?'
'That would be nice.'
I went to the kitchen. The doorbell chimed. Flip charged in from the veranda to warn the possible intruder of the dog's fierce presence. I followed him into the foyer and opened the door. It was Zach Mays with his motorcycle helmet under his right arm.
'I hope I'm not too early,' he said.
'What are you doing here?'
'It's a nice neighborhood. May I come in? Did you just wake up?'
'No, I've already run four miles that included a quick trip by the office. The parking lot was empty at six thirty.'
The young lawyer stepped into the foyer. 'I'll be there later today but wanted to go for a ride before it gets too hot.'
'Mrs. Fairmont is on the veranda. I'm getting her a fresh cup of coffee.'
Flip, continuing to growl, circled Zach's feet.
'Will he bite?' Zach asked.
'I'm not sure. It's probably a good thing you're wearing boots.'
Zach followed me into the kitchen. Together, we went to the veranda.
'Mrs. Fairmont, do you remember Zach Mays?'
The old woman extended her hand. 'No, but it's good to see you again. Please sit down.'
For the next thirty minutes, we enjoyed a pleasant conversation. Mrs. Fairmont asked Zach questions. She was mostly interested in people he'd met whom she knew. I didn't try to sort out the cast of characters. The intricacies of Savannah society seemed as complicated as Chinese history. At a pause in the discussion, Zach looked at me.
'Are you ready to go?' he asked.
'I'm not working today.'
'I'm not talking about the office. I meant for a ride.'
'On your motorcycle?'
'Make sure you wear a good helmet,' Mrs. Fairmont said.
'I have an extra with me,' Zach replied. 'It's strapped to the bike.'
'But I've never ridden a motorcycle.' I paused. 'And I don't have any jeans. I wouldn't feel comfortable behind you on the seat.'
'You don't have to put your arms around my waist, and you can wear anything you like,' Zach replied. 'I have a sidecar. It's not much different than the fancy convertible you were driving, just a little bit closer to the ground.'
'It sounds like fun,' Mrs. Fairmont said. 'Ferguson Caldwell used to own a motorcycle. He took me for a ride.'
'I'm not sure,' I said.
Zach held up his hand as if taking an oath. 'I promise not to go any faster than you like. If you feel uncomfortable, we'll just go around the block, and I'll drop you off by the front door.'
I was wearing a loose-fitting blue skirt and a white short-sleeved blouse. 'I need to do the breakfast dishes,' I said.
'I'll help,' Zach volunteered.
'Go ahead, I'll be fine,' Mrs. Fairmont added. 'It's so pleasant out here this morning.'
In the kitchen I studied Zach's face. 'Why are you asking me to go for a ride?' I asked.
'I'll tell you later,' he replied. 'I promise.'
There wasn't time to call my parents and get their counsel. I had to decide myself. My mind leaned toward no, but my mouth must have been connected to another part of me.
'Okay, but not long.'
It only took a few minutes to clean up the kitchen. Zach loaded the dishwasher exactly the same way I did. I went downstairs, brushed my teeth, and tied my hair in a ponytail. I threw some things in a casual handbag. Zach and Mrs. Fairmont were on the veranda, continuing their conversation about Savannah.
'I'm ready,' I announced.
'Have fun,' Mrs. Fairmont said.
I followed Zach outside. Parked alongside the curb was a big black motorcycle with a sidecar attached to it.
'I thought you had a red motorcycle,' I said.
'I do. This one belonged to my parents. It's twenty years old. I used to ride in the sidecar when I was a kid. That's when I fell in love with motorcycles. My father was going to sell it last year, so I bought it from him. I couldn't stand the thought of it leaving the family.'
The passenger carrier had orange flames flickering along the side.
'You make it sound like a family heirloom.'
'In a way, it is.' He handed me a black helmet also decorated with the orange flame motif 'This is my mother's helmet. It should fit.'
I pulled the helmet over my head. It rested snugly against my ears. A plastic shield covered my face.
'It feels claustrophobic,' I said, speaking extra loud so I could be heard.
'You'll be glad the first time a june bug crashes into your face at fifty miles an hour.' Zach slipped on his helmet. 'And you don't have to yell,' he said in a voice that echoed inside the chamber. 'There is a microphone connection embedded near the right corner of your mouth. It helps with the guided-tour portion of our ride.'
'Testing, one, two, three,' I said.
He tapped the side of his helmet and nodded. 'I'll help you get settled in the sidecar.'
He held out his hand, but I ignored it and stepped in. As I sat down, I quickly slid my legs forward, making sure my knees remained covered. My feet barely reached the nose of the narrow car.
'It has plenty of legroom, doesn't it?' Zach asked.
'Like a limo.' I reached down with my hands. 'Where's the seat belt?'
Zach threw his right leg over the motorcycle seat. 'There isn't one. If a motorcycle wrecks, staying attached to it isn't always the safest thing.'
He started the motor and revved the engine. It caused the sidecar to vibrate. I couldn't believe I'd left the peace and safety of Mrs. Fairmont's veranda to sit a few inches off the ground beside a motorcycle operated by a man I barely knew.
'Ready?' Zach spoke in stereo into my ears.
I nodded grimly.
He looked over his shoulder at the street and pulled away from the curb. The first thing I noticed was the immediate sensation of speed. The street seemed to fly past.
'How fast are we going?' I shouted.
'About thirty. You don't have to yell. It might make me wreck.'
Some of the streets in the historic district were in need of repair, and we bumped along for several blocks. The helmet limited my view so I turned my head from side to side. Everyone we passed stopped to stare. If the twins had been on the sidewalk and saw me ride past attached to a motorcycle and wearing a black helmet with orange flames on the side, they would have fainted.
'Where are we going?' I asked.
'To a smoother road.'
We left the historic district and turned onto President Street Extension, a broader, four-lane highway. The motorcycle picked up speed, and I could feel the wind rushing past my arms and neck. Even though it felt fast, I noticed that Zach stayed in the slow lane, letting most of the cars pass us.
'How do you like it?' Zach asked.
'Better than the back of a pickup truck,' I admitted.
