“You sound less miserable.”
They were on phone.
“I’m always delightful.”
“No.”
She laughed.
“Do you want to visit this summer?”
Bear went quiet.
Seattle had always felt like Mara’s territory.
He waited for explicit invitations.
She had given one.
“Yes.”
Mara hesitated.
“Bring Rachel and Noah if they want.”
Bear’s heart stopped slightly.
“You sure?”
“I’d like to meet them.”
“Why?”
“Because apparently a child vandalized your motorcycle and fixed your personality.”
“Unclear.”
Mara laughed.
Rachel nearly refused trip.
“I don’t want to intrude.”
Bear told her:
“Mara invited.”
“That’s not same as wanting strangers in house.”
Mara called Rachel directly.
“Please come.”
Rachel stared at phone.
“All right.”
Seattle changed everything again.
Mara was not what Rachel expected.
She imagined a female version of Bear.
Instead Mara was five feet six, wore bright glasses, worked as an elementary librarian, and laughed easily.
She hugged Bear with both arms.
He froze then hugged back.
Noah watched.
Mara crouched.
“You’re Noah.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard you draw on motorcycles.”
“Only once.”
“Good answer.”
Rachel smiled.
Mara’s daughters, twelve and nine, immediately adopted Noah.
Bear stood in kitchen watching three children argue over a board game.
Mara came beside him.
“You okay?”
He nodded.
“You’re doing thing.”
“What thing?”
“Quiet because happy and suspicious of it.”
Bear looked at her.
“Who taught you to talk like this?”
“Therapy.”
He grunted.
Mara looked toward Rachel.
“She’s good.”
“Yes.”
“Not romantic?”
Bear nearly choked.
“No.”
“I had to ask.”
“Why?”
“Because movies.”
Bear glared.
Mara smiled.
Then became serious.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“I’m glad you met them.”
Bear looked toward Noah.
“So am I.”
Mara continued:
“But don’t make Noah your second chance at me.”
Bear’s face changed.
She touched his arm.
“I don’t think you are.”
“I’m saying be careful.”
Bear looked away.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Noah needs Jack.”
“Not guilty-you.”
“Not rescued-you.”
“Not father-you.”
“Just Jack.”
Bear nodded slowly.
That became another rule.
Do not turn child into repair project for old regrets.
Bear followed imperfectly.
Sometimes he overreacted.
When Noah got into fight at school at ten, Bear wanted to march into principal office.
Rachel stopped him.
“You are not parent.”
He flinched.
She saw.
“I don’t mean you’re nothing.”
“I mean there are lanes.”
Bear nodded.
Rachel continued:
“I need you beside us.”
“Not ahead.”
He understood.
He came to meeting because Rachel asked.
He sat.
Spoke only when invited.
Noah had punched another boy after the boy said his dead father “didn’t count anymore.”
Bear’s hands curled.
Rachel looked.
Lane.
Bear breathed.
Principal asked Noah what he could do differently.