Rachel looked at him.
“Tell me about Megan.”
Cole leaned against the motorcycle.
For a moment she thought he might refuse.
Then he smiled.
“She was mean.”
Rachel laughed.
“Seriously.”
“She was five feet three and terrorized grown mechanics.”
“She worked with you?”
“Since she could hold a wrench.”
“What did she want to do?”
“Everything.”
He looked toward the sunset.
“Travel.”
“Open her own shop.”
“Maybe teach.”
“She changed every six months.”
“Twenty-two.”
Rachel smiled sadly.
“You still sound angry.”
Cole nodded.
“I am.”
“At who?”
“Depends on the day.”
“Doctors.”
“God.”
“Myself.”
“Cancer.”
“People who say stupid things.”
Rachel understood that one.
“What stupid things?”
Cole counted.
“Everything happens for a reason.”
Rachel groaned.
“She's in a better place.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“God only gives you what you can handle.”
They spoke together:
“I hate that one.”
They both laughed.
Cole looked at her.
“People mean well.”
“I know.”
“That doesn't make it helpful.”
Rachel nodded.
They stood quietly.
Then Rachel asked:
“Do you really think Megan would want this?”
“The fund?”
“Yes.”
Cole reached for the notebook copy.
Then stopped.
“You want to see the original?”
Rachel hesitated.
“Yes.”
He opened his saddlebag.
Inside was a worn green notebook.
Stickers on the cover.
Oil stains.
One corner bent.
Cole handled it carefully.
He handed it to Rachel.
She opened.
Megan’s handwriting changed from page to page.
Lists.
Drawings.
Medication schedules.
Jokes.
One page:
Things Dad says when he is pretending not to panic.
- “We’ll figure it out.”
- “Let me make a call.”
- “Have you eaten?”
- “That doctor looks twelve.”
Rachel laughed.
Cole smiled.
“She wasn't wrong.”
Rachel continued.
Then she found several pages titled:
BAD IDEAS THAT MIGHT ACTUALLY BE GOOD
One was about the fund.
Megan had written:
Hospitals treat the patient, but illness eats the whole family. Rent still comes. Cars still break. Jobs still fire people. Somebody should help with the boring disasters.
Rachel’s throat tightened.
Below:
Emergency grants. No judgment. No making people tell their tragedy at a banquet. If they need groceries, buy groceries. If they need rent, pay rent. If they need a hotel because the hospital is far away, pay the stupid hotel.
Rachel smiled through tears.
“She sounds…”
“Bossy?”
“I was going to say smart.”
“Both.”
Another paragraph:
Dad will turn this into motorcycles somehow. Do not let him.
Rachel looked toward the bikes.
Cole looked offended.
“I barely involved motorcycles.”
“Twelve arrived today.”
“Eleven.”
“You were twelve.”
“Technicality.”
Rachel laughed.
Then saw a line underlined twice: