“What?”
“Ask before touching somebody else’s machine.”
Owen nodded.
“Can I touch it?”
Russell looked toward Anna.
She noticed.
He was obeying the letter.
Her choice.
She nodded.
Russell looked back.
“Yes.”
Owen placed one hand on the leather seat.
His fingers moved across the stitching.
“Dad sat here?”
“A thousand times.”
“Did he crash?”
Russell smiled.
“Several.”
Anna’s eyes widened.
Russell corrected:
“Low-speed dumb crashes.”
“Nothing serious.”
“Once into a hedge.”
Owen laughed.
“Why?”
“Showing off.”
“That sounds like Dad.”
Anna stared.
“How would you know?”
“He fell off a ladder putting up Christmas lights.”
Fair.
Russell walked toward the workbench.
He placed Caleb’s photograph in a frame.
Owen noticed another photograph beside it.
Caleb at perhaps nineteen, shirtless, holding an engine part.
Russell behind him flipping off the camera.
Anna cleared her throat.
Pete walked by.
“Historical documentation.”
Russell turned the frame face down.
Owen laughed.
They spent two hours there.
No riding.
No engines started.
Russell showed Owen the motorcycle one piece at a time.
“Tank.”
“I know.”
“Primary.”
“I don’t know.”
“Transmission.”
“Kinda know.”
“Brake master cylinder.”
“Don’t know.”
Russell looked toward him.
“Your dad’s letter said you learn brakes before throttle.”
Owen frowned.
“Why?”
“Because stopping keeps you alive.”
He pointed toward the front brake.
“Everything that moves needs a plan for stopping.”
Anna heard the sentence.
It sounded larger than motorcycles.
Owen asked:
“What does the symbol mean?”
Russell froze.
Anna saw it.
Caleb’s letter had said:
Tell him only if he asks.
Russell leaned against the workbench.
“When your dad was seventeen, he didn’t have a home.”
Owen looked toward Anna.
She nodded.
Russell continued.
“I didn’t have much of one when I was his age either.”
“So we used to draw roads.”
“Why wings?”
“Because sometimes leaving is the safest thing you can do.”
Owen looked toward the half-finished symbol.
“And the star?”
Russell swallowed.
“Something to aim at.”
“Dad said a person could leave without knowing exactly where they were going.”
“But they needed something better to move toward.”
Owen became quiet.
“What was Dad aiming at?”
Russell looked toward Anna.
She had not expected the question.
Neither had he.
Finally Russell answered:
“You.”
Anna’s eyes filled.
Owen looked down.
“And Mom?”
Russell smiled faintly.
“Probably her first.”
Anna wiped one eye.
Pete suddenly became fascinated by a toolbox across the room.
Owen looked toward the motorcycle.
“Can I finish it?”
Anna’s instinct said no.
Not yet.
Russell waited.
Owen held the marker.
The silver wing incomplete.
Anna imagined Caleb drawing the same symbol while she was pregnant.
Secretly.
Foolishly.
Lovingly.
She breathed.
“Not on the outside.”
Owen looked disappointed.
Russell immediately said:
“There’s another place.”