"I don't know."
The rider stared.
"You never read it?"
The old man lowered his gaze.
"No."
For several moments, the other biker said nothing.
Then he placed one hand on the old man's shoulder.
"Brother."
The old biker looked up.
His friend spoke gently.
"You can't undo seven years by giving her groceries."
The old man nodded.
"I know."
"And she might not want anything more from us."
"I know."
The rider looked toward the house.
Then said, "But if you mean to make this right, you're going to have to start with the truth."
The old biker closed his eyes.
He thought of the little girl's question.
Why didn't you come see us before?
Then he slowly nodded.
"Yeah."
His voice broke.
"I reckon I am."
That night, the old biker drove straight to his garage.
He did not stop for dinner.
Did not turn on the television.
Did not call anyone.
He parked the motorcycle beneath the workshop lights and entered through the side door.
The garage was quiet.
Tools hung neatly against the walls.
The smell of engine oil lingered in the air.
A large workbench occupied the center of the room.
He crossed toward the small office.
Opened the bottom drawer.
And began searching.
Old invoices.
Insurance forms.
Photographs from motorcycle rallies.
Receipts.
A faded club membership list.
A stack of unopened advertisements.
Then, beneath a blue folder, he found the envelope.
Cream-colored.
Slightly yellowed.
Still sealed.
The return address was written in careful handwriting.
He stared at it.
For almost seven years, the letter had waited.
The old biker lowered himself into the office chair.
His hands began trembling.
For a long time, he simply held the envelope.
Then he took a small knife from the desk.
Carefully opened the top.
And unfolded the pages.
The letter was three pages long.
It began politely.
The widow introduced herself, although she assumed he remembered meeting her.
She explained that her husband had died in the accident.
She wrote that the funeral had been small.
That several former riding friends attended.
That she understood there had been disagreements within the club.