Best Road

Chapter One - Old Stone House

Old stone house whispers our name.

The rumble of a large motorcycle engine could be heard cascading through the forest. Two leather clad riders loved exploring country roads that wound through sunlit forests. They were certain they’d been up and down all of the local trails. But they discovered a new one this fine summer day. It was perfect. Or so they thought.

As they approached the old stone house a flash of light from a third floor window was captured and reflected in Marie’s mischievous brown eyes. An intriguing invitation whispered through the dried leaves that covered the gravel road. Stay here Bobby. Stay here Marie. Bring your hearts. Bring your souls. Please. Marie heard the whispers. Bobby heard them too but his focus was on driving and he dismissed the invitation. Eventually he’d hear the whispers very clearly.

Visible from any direction the house was perched on the edge of a hilltop. Standing a majestic three stories high and as wide as a football field it held a multitude of windows. The southern exposure allowed the house to relentlessly blink and wink at people that passed by on a sunny day. The adventurous few, the ones that saw, the ones that knew, would wink back. These wise few would be rewarded with a series of rapid winks flashing back at them from glassy eyes. These wise few would sense a multitude of stories waiting to be discovered behind the winking blinking eyes.

Tales of horror? Yes, some, although it is dependent on one’s definition and, dare I say, appreciation of horror. Fans of Stephen King’s work will understand.

Legends of fear? Indeed, fear was reserved for the fools that wandered onto the property and tried to break one of the glass eyes with a well-aimed throw. They always missed. They’d try again, miss, try again, another miss, another throw, another miss, they’d curse and throw again. The last stone they threw would ricochet off the stone wall, bounce off of a nearby tree trunk and then strike them in the side of the head. The same thing would happen with every single interloper. They’d rub their head and stare in disbelief as peals of joyful laughter would emanate from inside the old house. It would take a few seconds before they realized they were also hearing their own screams of terror. A brief silence would ensue. Laughter was the last thing they’d hear before the dark night took them, every last one.

Sadness? Yes, on some rainy days and on blustery winter days the rectangular eyes would fog over and tears would run down the misty facade.

Happiness? Definitely for those that believed there was life behind the winking blinking eyes.

Wind always visited the old stone house; arriving as a peaceful breeze or a furious storm. Gentle Sigh and Bitter Anger were regular guests.

As they neared the house Bobby and Marie both uttered excitedly, “Oh, yeah.” They couldn’t hear each other over the rumble of the motorcycle engine but it wouldn’t have surprised them to know that they spoke at exactly the same time. They were frequently in sync; same words, same timing, same feeling, and now, at precisely the same moment, both of them said quietly, “We’re home.”

They sensed emptiness, the house felt deserted. It wasn’t a feeling of tragedy nor did it feel as though the house was watching them as they’d seen in countless horror flicks or read about in novels. There wasn’t anything sinister in the emptiness, at least not for them. Instead they were both certain that they’d found their dream home.

If they’d been asked about their dream before actually seeing ‘2242 Best Road’ they wouldn’t have been able to describe the excitement that rumbled through them now. Anticipation rushed at them in waves. They drove through winds of excitement, brisk winds that whisked round, sweeping over, under, sideways and around them until it was at their backs pushing them forward, encouraging them onward. They both laughed and shouted out, “Found it! Found it!”
And as she wrapped her arms around Bobby’s waist, Marie hollered, loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the motorcycle’s engine, “Hey there! Hi there! Old stone house!”
Bobby quickly added, “Hi-dee-ho! Hey dee-ho! Old stone house!”

They were certain a dream would become reality. At least as certain as certain was or could ever be. They’d both heard the whispered invitation. Marie was filled with excitement and anticipation. Bobby was worried that it was some weird quirk with his imagination.

The grounds of ‘2242 Best Road’ were professionally landscaped and even though the house was vacant someone was obviously taking care of it. The grass was cut, weed free, and a multitude of trees, shrubs, and flowers were tended to on a daily basis. Had to be, it was the only way the grounds could have been so breathtakingly beautiful. An assortment of gnomes were scattered about the property. Not the seven dwarfs, nope, these were gnomes. Tiny gnomes that measured four inches in height and larger ones that were a smidge under five feet tall and that, Marie decided, was the tallest that a gnome should ever grow.
‘Must be at least a hundred of ‘em, Marie.’ A new phrase whisked through her mind. She didn’t recognize the whisper, it wasn’t her voice but there it was again, ‘Must be at least a hundred of ‘em, Marie.’
She realized the house, or an occupying spirit, knew her name. ‘Exalted, I am exalted’, came whispering gently across the lawn, followed by an inner thought, ‘What the hell does it mean to be exalted?’
And the same voice sang out, “Rise up, rise up, oh rise and show your power! Rise up, rise up!”
Marie wrapped her arms tighter around Bobby’s waist and wondered again, what the hell does it mean to be exalted?’ “Show your power, Marie!” It was the same whispered voice that she’d heard inviting them to stay when they’d initially neared the house. She willingly embraced the voice, it held a soothing quality. Although it was becoming much stronger as they approached the front door to the house. She could feel a palpable energy along with the whispers.

Bobby applied the brakes and downshifted so the motorcycle wouldn’t raise dust from the gravel road that led to an archway towering over a paved driveway. The address to the house was chiseled into the centre stone of the twelve foot high arch, 2242 Best Road. Eventually the engine rumbled and hiccupped, cascading down to a level where Marie knew Bobby could hear her and she let loose with her famous call, “Brrrrrkkkkkkk, brrrk, brrrk!”
Bobby answered immediately, “Brrk!”

They’d been doing this for years. It was now as natural to them as brushing their teeth. People that knew them well had become accustomed to the ‘call’ and chalked it up as another one of the weird things that the two crazies shared in their oddly comfortable way. Though they never spoke of it, the call and response was their way of touching base, a way of saying that they loved each other, a way to say, “I’m okay! You okay?” And the answer was almost always the same, “I’m okay!”

Earlier that morning while they enjoyed a peaceful breakfast on the deck they decided it was a perfect day for a long ride in the country. Peaceful blue summer sky, a few wispy clouds slowly floating by, barely a hint of a breeze.

They seldom planned their route in advance; instead they let intuition, traffic patterns and the vagaries of the spring, summer or fall weather determine where they’d go. Winter in Canada was too bloody cruel to allow year round motorcycle adventures and, in a way, Marie had decided that maybe having four seasons was a good thing. Marie remembered a conversation they’d had when she suggested it to Bobby while he was putting the Harely away for the winter. “We can look forward to spring and some new advees.” she’d said.
“Bullshit winter. Fucking snow. I hate snow,” Bobby had said, adding, “I love the absence of winter. Snow is dumb.”
“Sure but we can always pretend, okay?”
“Yeah, okay…well, not really but I guess if it makes you feel better.”

Spring always brought a burning desire to head out for long tranquil countryside cruises on the Harley-Davidson. They spent many pleasurable hours together rumbling along every highway, concession, side road and hard-packed gravel trail within at least a hundred kilometer radius of their house. They’d found a new road this warm summer day. They loved the discovery of new trails. After a few seasons of biking they were certain they’d driven up and down every inch of the local roads, at least that’s what they thought until this fine summer day.

When they first approached Best Road, Marie shouted in joy, “New advee!” using the phrase they’d come to associate with new adventures. “New advee! Holy crap, can you believe it, Bobby?”
“No, my eyes see and my mind agrees but how can this be? We’ve covered this area at least a dozen times. How could we have missed this road?
“I don’t know! But here it is!”
Bobby downshifted the Harley, slowing almost to a stop before turning south on ‘Best Road’. It was marked by a green sign that appeared to be quite weathered so the road wasn’t as new as it first appeared. A few feet past the green one there was a yellow sign that read, ‘No Exit.’ It was weathered looking too.

Bobby brought the Harley to a stop so they could get their bearings. They recognized a familiar landmark off to their right, the “boobies” as Bobby called them. What the heck were those things anyway, grain silos? Whatever, they always reminded Bobby of the bras that made women’s boobs look pointed, almost bullet-shaped. He recalled that look from way back in the seventies. Didn’t pointy boobs arrive on the scene shortly after women started burning the wretched restrictive things? Bobby was all for the good old days: Burn ‘em! Set those puppies free! He’d hoped the no-bra days would take hold and last forever. They didn’t. Bummer. But at least seeing the boobies meant they were on a familiar road even though they’d encountered a completely unexpected surprise.

Bobby shifted into first gear and guided the Harley down Best Road. The first three hundred meters was newly paved with smooth, dark black asphalt. From that point on it was all gravel. The motorcycle swished a bit in sections where the gravel was loosely packed. The familiar popping and scattering sounds of small stones could be heard. Evergreens and a smattering of oak and elm trees lined the path creating a bright green canopy sixty to seventy feet over their heads. The temperature dropped by at least ten degrees when they ventured into the tree tunnel. The sun’s rays were scattered about on either side of the road and along its length for as far as they could see. Warm funnels of light reached through the thick foliage, causing their shadows to lengthen, disappear, lengthen and disappear.

In sections where the road lead west and sunshine penetrated through the leaves they could see their shadows stretch out behind them. Marie could have sworn she saw the shadow of another person just behind her—a child?—perched on the luggage rack. When Bobby accelerated on the straightaway she felt a gentle tug on her shoulders and the child—thing?—appeared to stretch out lengthways. The first time she felt the tug on her shoulders she dismissed it as a trick of the wind. Shadows can’t hang on, not physically. What the hell was she thinking? Shadows of children don’t just plunk themselves down on the luggage rack never mind hang on. And then a few minutes later it happened again. The sense of it didn’t frighten her, she actually quite liked it, although she couldn’t help wonder what was going on inside her head. “Helmet must be too tight,” she whispered to herself.

The hands on her shoulders felt small, as a child’s might. It would have to be a child to fit on the luggage rack. “Show your power.”
What the hell? She was so intent on looking at the shadow that when Bobby suddenly swerved and applied the brakes her helmet bonked up against his. “Sorry!” she screamed.
“No problem! I had to do that to miss a pothole!”

Bobby had been driving slowly in second gear. He didn’t take any chances when they ventured onto new roads. Plus it meant they were able to hear the calls of wildlife over the pleasant rumbling of the engine. As they drove further into the tree tunnel more wildlife sounds could be heard. It felt like they were surrounded by them. Marie thought there was a cartoon or fairy tale that this magic moment reminded her of but she couldn’t place it. “It’s better not to know,” the voice she’d been hearing whispered. “Maybe,” she answered.
“What?” Bobby called out.
“Nothing, just muttering!”
“Ah, okay.” He was used to her talking to herself.
“You hear the birds?” Marie called back.
“Yup, just like home, eh!”
“Sorta”, she said, “But without those little shits that live behind us!”
“Yeah, exactly!” Bobby yelled back, adding “Hey is it against the law to beat up little kids?”
“Yes!” Marie called out, “Even if they wake us up every bloody morning!”
“The little pricks!” Bobby gunned the motorcycle and it leapt forward.
“Bobby! What the fuck? You scared the shit outta me!” Marie shouted. A second later they both started laughing. She knew he was teasing her. She wrapped her arms around Bobby’s waist and squeezed tight as the Harley quickly reached cruising speed. Vibrations from the engine while she straddled the seat always got her engine purring. After hanging on tight to his waist for a few seconds Marie slid one hand down so she could grab his crotch. She loved it when he wore his leather chaps. “Your charisma is growing and it’s driving me crazy with lust!” She shouted. She’d managed to slide his zipper down and slip her hand into the opening.
“Oh yeah,” Bobby hollered, “Now this is the way to ride!”

They enjoyed playing ‘hide and seek’ on the motorcycle. They’d done it a few times and loved the thrill of it. It was their fantasy to ride buck naked some sunny day. All they needed was a private trail. And they were both thinking that maybe they’d just found it on Best Road. And both yelled, at precisely the same moment, “We’ve found our buck naked trail!” With that Bobby’s concentration lapsed and the motorcycle swerved to the left then back right as he corrected their direction.
“Whoa,” Marie giggled, “Steady there big fella, steady!”
“Yeehaw, Bobby yelled, “You got it right there, big fella indeed! And hey, look, or better yet, feel what you’re doin to me!”
And without a cue they immediately started singing from the Beatles song, “Look what you’re doin, I’m feeling blue and lonely would it be so much to ask of you what you’re doin to me-eeee!”
They jumped forward to the third verse, “I’ve been waiting here for you, wond’ring what you’re gonna do, should you need a love that’s true it’s me-eeee.” They shared a wonderfully deep belly laugh and then fell into a comfortable silence as they cruised deeper into the tree tunnel.

Bobby marveled at the freedom he felt with Marie. They’d known each other for decades but had only become intimate a few short years ago. He wondered, not for the first time, how they could be so comfortable together so quickly. It felt incredible to be with her. It sounded so simple stated that way but somehow it expressed the depth and breadth of his love. He felt he was the protector and he also felt protected when he was with her. They had very few inhibitions. That was what he wanted from life. He was grateful for finding a woman that he loved and wanted to grow old with. They’d both had their share of loss and sadness. Bad accompanied good; these things that life was made of, most people’s lives it would seem. Did anyone get through life without at least one tragedy? They had agreed to leave their pasts behind, to not even talk about them unless there was a positive story to tell. He was quick to tell Marie that he loved her; free enough to let his guard down and tell her his fears, stories of his misspent youth, his feelings about a career that he loved and loathed in equal doses. Marie was surprised and pleased with how open he was with her. She’d told him that a few times. Heck, at fifty-nine he was more than willing to communicate. It surprised him when Marie commented on it, believing that it was the only way anyone in a positive relationship could live together. Communicate or perish.
“Do I need fifty-nine more years to learn how to communicate?” Bobby remembered saying, adding. “I hope not, because I don’t have it.”
In response, Marie cocked her head to one side and smiled, saying nothing. It was a trait that he loved, the way she looked at him with her expressive brown eyes. Bobby was infatuated with her. He’d look into her eyes, deep within and he’d see mischief, desire, pleasure, love, and, sometimes, peace. He wanted to see that in her eyes all of the time and he vowed to do his best to make it happen.

When they’d first met, over thirty years ago, Bobby was captivated with her beauty but it was her eyes that drew him to her. Had they not been in love with others at the time he would have pursued her. Three decades later a funeral brought them together; they were both single. Bobby thought she was incredibly beautiful; a brown-eyed, sexy, fun, feisty prairie woman.

Bobby and Marie were born in the same city situated in the midst of—can land really be this flat—grain covered prairies before they both eventually escaped to the warmer, friendlier, rolling hills of Ontario. Marie stood just over five feet tall with shoulder length brown and blonde hair. A few hours in the salon resulted in just enough blonde streaks to create a lightly seasoned charm to go with her olive complexion. Her lips were full, heart shaped, and when she smiled they parted to reveal straight white teeth that lit up her face along with dimpled cheeks and arched eyebrows to accentuate her bright brown eyes. Eyes that led to a tradition, one that began with Marie buying Bobby a Van Morrison CD that included the song, ‘Brown Eyed Girl.’ Each time Bobby met her at the airport, after she returned from a visit to the prairie to see family and friends, he’d cue the song up on the CD player so that it played as soon as he started the car.

Bobby was quietly humming the song as they drove along. The trees had given way to a section of fields filled with corn and rolling hills. He didn’t take his eyes off the road very often but he could easily see birds winging in front of them, above them and swooshing past on both sides. It seemed as though they had their own winged escort and the peacefulness was wonderful, until a large black squirrel suddenly leapt out onto the road about twenty meters in front of them. It startled Bobby and his right foot automatically moved to apply the rear brake while, at the same time, he readied himself to pull in the right front brake lever. The squirrel stopped in the middle of the road, pausing for a split second so he could get a good look at the interlopers before chattering angrily at them and running off. Bobby was able to maneuver the Harley to the left as the squirrel bolted to the right. They both wanted to avoid a collision, each of them thinking there was no way they wanted to tangle with the other. A squirrel was big enough to cause damage regardless of the size of motorcycle.
“That squirrel has a death wish!” Marie shouted.
“No kidding, eh! Lucky we didn’t hit him.”
“Yeah for him and us!”
“Exactly. How do you know it was a ‘him’?”
“He gave us the finger.”
“Bullshit!”
“He did! Did you miss that?”
“Ha!”

They’d reached another stretch of road where the corn had disappeared and both sides of the trail were lined with trees when Marie shouted, “Isn’t this road perfect?”
“Yup, I still can’t believe we missed this!”
“I know—Bobby, look!” Marie yelled out as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Whoa, can you believe that!” Bobby answered as he brought the bike to a full stop and shut down the engine. A doe was standing in the middle of the gravel road, perfectly still, looking at the bikers with curiosity, seemingly without fear.
“Hey there, beautiful,” Bobby said quietly, “Would you stay there long enough for us to take a picture? I doubt it.”

The doe appeared speckled as she stood in fractured shadows from sunlight flickering through windblown leaves. She looked at the interlopers intently, twitching and flicking her ears a few times before making a motion to the forest with a sideways motion of her head as though she was asking the bikers to follow her into the trees. They looked at each other for at least a minute, the doe playfully twitching her ears and tipping its head to the right a few times, motioning for them to follow. Bobby and Marie sat perfectly still afraid any movement would cause the doe to bolt. After tipping her head, for what appeared to be one last offer to play, she calmly ambled away and disappeared into the forest. It was a magic moment, one that they frequently shared with nature.

They attracted all sorts of birds and critters to their yard. The plants and shrubs that they’d planted were effective for luring in the wildlife and the food that they served meant they’d return on a regular basis. They loved all of the critters that came for a snack or a drink of water from the fountain but the rabbits were special and one of them visited throughout the winter, venturing right up to the doorway. The hungry rabbit blazed a trail through the snow to get to the edge of the deck where Bobby had first started leaving carrots. Marie quickly took over and patiently brought the flopped eared pal right up onto the steps that led into the house. The rabbit created a deep trail in the snow, a true creature of habit, and s/he also decorated the path with a trail of nuggets. Two different rabbits came in the spring and summer. A parent visited first, decided that the yard was rabbit friendly, and soon after a baby rabbit suddenly began to appear, cutest dang thing this side of the chipmunks and there were four of those tiny critters this year with the parents and two babies spotted on a few occasions. Four sets of birds nested at the house. Two sets of doves out front, a set of doves out back and a pair of aggressive and extremely territorial robins. The sounds, especially the chipmunks and birds, were as fascinating to them as the sights but it was nothing compared to what they heard as they drove down the tree tunnel.

Other than the tiny hummingbirds, Bobby managed to take pictures of all of their pals. The rabbits held a special place in their hearts. It began with their first date when Bobby was walking Marie to her apartment doorway. A rabbit dashed across their path and then ran/hopped another twenty feet before stopping to stare at the ‘old’ lovers. Relative to their first teenage romances they were damn old. They both enjoyed teasing their kids about things that ‘old’ people were liable to do, especially mentioning s-e-x in front of their adult children. It almost always received the same response, “Old people having sex! Eeeewwwwww!”

From their first date and onward rabbits frequently crossed their path wherever they went. Rabbits became their talisman and during a jaunt on the Harley to a Petroglyph site they discovered a wealth of native folklore. They became absorbed with the ancient rock carvings and many of them had been of the Nanabush. They listened to Ojibwa elders as they told tales of a great spirit, Kitchi Manitou. He dreamed of a new world, one with mountains, valleys, rivers, lakes, plants, animals and humans. To the humans he gave the power to dream. But in the early days they suffered greatly and so Kitchi Manitou sent a teacher named Nanabush, the son of a human mother and a father that was the West Wind spirit. Nanabush was to teach his people about plants that had healing powers and about human kindness, generosity, and honesty. Nanabush was gifted with grand powers of magic and was able to give special attributes to plants and animals. Pictures carved in stone by the Ojibwa portrayed him as having rabbit-like ears. Legend said that he could also be a bit of a trickster. And wasn’t that just like Marie and Bobby. That tidbit of lore added another level to their affection for rabbits.

As the speckled doe wandered into the forest Marie felt a tug on her back again. A very slight sensation of two hands, small hands, placed gently on her shoulders followed by a gentle tug. “Bobby,” she called quietly, “Let’s go.”
“On our way,” he replied as he pressed the electronic starter and the Harley rumbled to life. “Wasn’t that incredible?”
“Yes, it was beautiful. But was it real!?”
“Completely! So whatcha think? Should we follow the doe?”
“No, let’s keep going, the forest is too dense here.”
“Okie dokie, we are on our way!”

They both turned to look as they passed the spot where the doe entered the forest. Marie was right, the forest was very dense and there wasn’t any sign of the doe. But she did hear the tinkle of a child’s laughter. It startled her and her heart began to pound. She looked back to the doe’s departure point; the woods were incredibly thick, but not thick enough to prevent a woman from stepping out onto the path. She stood motionless, tall and proud. She was looking directly at Marie. Their eyes met and a voice whispered through the leaves and branches, “Tall and proud, Marie, tall and proud.” But the woman’s lips didn’t move. Was the whispered voice the woman or the child? Marie swung around abruptly so she wouldn’t lose sight of the woman. The Harley immediately started to wobble.
“Holy fuck!” Bobby shouted as he brought the bike under control.
“Sorry! Marie cried out as she turned back to Bobby. “Sorry, thought I saw the doe come back!”
Marie wasn’t telling a bald-faced lie; at best it was just a little white lie. “Tall and proud,” The woman whispered, “Marie, tall and proud.” The whispers seemed to cascade through the forest, echoing and then distorting as though the voice somehow found its way into the rumbling of the Harley’s engine.

Marie carefully snuck another glance back over her shoulder. The woman remained on the path, patiently watching the couple, nodding her head, as though she’d been expecting them. She appeared to be native although her black hair was very short and she wore a red plaid shirt, blue jeans and tan colored hiking boots. An image flashed through Marie’s mind, the woman had long black braids that flowed over her breasts and partially covered a necklace of beads that sparkled hot in the sunshine. Marie was forced to blink as an intense flash of reflected sunshine burst forth from the necklace. When she could focus again she saw that the women wore a deerskin headband that held a single feather. It was a wing feather from a very large hawk, “Tall and proud, Marie, tall and proud.” A shawl was draped over her slender frame. A doe was prominently featured on the front of the shawl. It looked very much like the deer they’d just seen on the path. She wore thigh high moccasins over leggings and a leather skirt. “Join me in a sun dance, Marie; rise up and show your power, it’s time.”

“You sure are quiet!” Bobby’s shout brought her out of the…what was it she’d been in, a reverie? A day dream? Lordy that was one hell of a daydream. Please tell me it wasn’t another vision. Better that it was a fugue. Was it? She’d forgotten everything that had been…her and everything that had been around her, forgot everything, entirely, while she’d been watching the Indian maiden. Is that a fugue?
“Hey, you okay?” Bobby called out as he slowed the bike and then stopped, leaving the engine to idle.
Marie’s head snapped up, she’d been resting the top of her helmet on Bobby’s back without realizing it. Must be a fugue, I know when I’m daydreaming and I sure as hell know when I’m having a vision, at least I know afterward.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m…I’m enjoying the sun, “Tall and proud, Marie, tall and proud.” The voice didn’t frighten her now. Instead the whispered phrase brought her a strength and inner joy that she’d only experienced when she was lying safe in Bobby’s arms after they’d made love. “I feel like dancing!” Marie shouted out gleefully. “I want to dance in the sunshine!”

Bobby shut down the Harley’s engine. “You sure you’re not suffering from sunstroke?”
“Positive! What a glorious day, Bobby! Let’s get off the bike and strip.”
“What? You okay?”
“Course I am. What, you suddenly forget how much we like to dance naked and then fuck like chickens?”
“Marie, seriously, you’re scaring me, are you okay?” Bobby twisted around on the seat as much as he could and the bike almost went over, “Shit!” Bobby managed to get the bike balanced, “Okay, okay, let’s get off before we drop it.”
“And fuck like chickens!?” Marie laughed as she climbed off the bike.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing! Not a ding-dong thing wrong with me!” Marie was spinning around in the middle of the path and, in her mind’s eye, her doe shawl was in flight, her moccasin covered feet could feel the rough, sun warmed gravel road and the shadow from her hawk feather spun round and round and when the thought hit her, that she might actually be able to take flight herself, Bobby wrapped his arms around her.
“You sure you’re okay? Maybe too much sun?”
Marie couldn’t help but laugh when she opened her eyes and saw the worried look on Bobby’s face, “Never too much sun my love! She replied, “Never! Come on, let’s strip.”
“Marie.”
“Nobody else is going to find this road! Come on!”