I walked toward the registration area carrying a small wooden box.
Inside were two photographs.
One showed Sarah in her yellow dress, holding Mr. Buttons.
The other showed Tucker wearing his tiny leather vest beside his pretend motorcycle.
I placed them together on a table beneath a sign.
One More Seat.
Then I added a copy of Sarah's final drawing.
Three people on a motorcycle.
Room for one more.
I stepped back.
For several minutes, I simply looked at the display.
Then a familiar voice came from behind me.
“She would've loved this.”
I turned.
Sarah's mother stood a few feet away.
Her hair had more silver than I remembered, and the years had softened the expression of her face.
She wore a simple blue dress and carried a small handbag.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then she opened her arms.
I stepped toward her.
We hugged.
Not like a husband and wife trying to rebuild something that had broken.
Like two people who had loved the same child and finally found a way to stand beside each other again.
She looked toward the photographs.
Her eyes filled.
“Look at our girl.”
I swallowed.
“Yeah.”
She touched the edge of Sarah's picture.
“She looks so happy.”
“She was.”
For a while, we stood quietly.
Then she looked toward Tucker's photograph.
“That's him?”
I nodded.
“That's Tucker.”
She smiled.
“He's beautiful.”
“Yeah.”
She looked at me.
“And I hear he's got you wrapped around his little finger.”
I laughed.
“Worse than Sarah ever did.”
She smiled through tears.
“That's saying something.”
A few minutes later, Angie's car arrived.
Tucker stepped out wearing a clean blue T-shirt, dark jeans, sneakers, and his miniature leather vest.
His hair had begun growing back in soft, uneven patches.
He looked stronger than he had the previous year, although the long months of treatment were still visible in the way he sometimes tired more quickly than other children.
He saw me immediately.
“Bear!”
I turned.
He hurried toward me at a quick walk.
I crouched.
He threw his arms around my neck.
I hugged him carefully.
“Hey, boss.”
He grinned.
“Did you see my hair?”
I laughed.
“Looking pretty good.”
He rubbed his head.
“Mommy says it's growing.”
“Sure is.”
He looked toward Ron.
“I'm gonna have more hair than you!”
Ron folded his arms.
“That's not exactly a difficult competition.”
Everyone laughed.
Then Tucker noticed Sarah's mother standing nearby.
He looked at me.
“Who's that?”
I took a breath.
“Buddy, this is Sarah's mom.”
Tucker's expression changed.