Sophie Brennan had loved motorcycles almost as much as her father.
She loved their engines, their headlights, and the way the chrome reflected the sky. When she was five, she had announced that every motorcycle needed a name. Doc had laughed, but she had insisted on naming his Harley Midnight Thunder.
She called herself the Princess of Thunder.
The title made no sense.
Doc adored it anyway.
On Saturdays, she would sit in the garage wearing oversized safety glasses while he worked. She never touched tools without permission, but she asked endless questions about the parts he removed and the machines he repaired.
"Why does that one have two wheels?"
"Because that's how it's designed."
"Why doesn't it fall over?"
"Because the rider balances it when it's moving."
"What if the rider sneezes?"
Doc had laughed so hard that he nearly dropped a socket.
Sophie laughed with him.
Those afternoons became some of his favorite memories.
When she turned seven, she began asking when she could ride with him.
Doc always gave the same answer.
"When you're older."
"How much older?"
"Old enough."
"That's not a number, Daddy."
He would grin.
"Then you're not old enough yet."
Sophie would cross her arms and pretend to be furious.
Then she would ask whether he could build her a motorcycle of her own.
"A pink one," she insisted.
Doc promised he would think about it.
The promise had seemed harmless.
There were years ahead, he believed.
There would be birthdays, vacations, school events, graduations, and more Saturdays in the garage than he could count.
Then Sophie became ill.
At first, she complained of being tired.
Then there were medical appointments, tests, and frightening conversations about a severe heart condition that had gone undetected until symptoms became serious. Her doctors explained that she required specialized treatment and careful monitoring.
Doc listened to every word.
He asked questions.
He took notes.
He spent hours reading information supplied by the medical team.
But knowledge did not give him control over the outcome.
As Sophie's condition worsened, ordinary childhood activities became more difficult.
She couldn't play as long as her friends.
Some days she was too tired to leave the house.
The little girl who once ran through the garage pretending to be a motorcycle engine now spent afternoons sitting near the window, watching cars pass on the road.