"He's spending money, getting people involved, building something with a passenger seat. And nobody's told him whether Ellie can use it."
Rachel set down the phone.
"He knows that."
"Does he?"
"Yes."
Mark rubbed his face.
"I don't like this."
Rachel stared at him.
"You liked the idea at the charity event."
"I liked seeing her happy. That's different."
"He's following the medical advice we gave him."
Mark shook his head.
"What happens if the doctors say no after he's spent months doing this?"
"Then we tell him no."
"And Ellie?"
"She doesn't know the details."
Mark looked toward the hallway.
"She knows enough."
Rachel felt her frustration rising.
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want us to be realistic."
"I am being realistic."
"Are you?"
The words stung.
Rachel stood.
"Do you think I don't understand what's happening to our daughter?"
Mark immediately regretted the question.
"Rachelβ"
"No. Tell me. Do you think I've forgotten what the doctors said?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
Mark looked down.
For several seconds, he couldn't answer.
Then he said quietly, "I'm scared."
Rachel stopped.
Mark sat at the kitchen table.
"I'm scared of watching her get excited about something she might never do. I'm scared that every time we let ourselves believe something good is coming, something else happens."
Rachel felt her anger dissolving.
He continued.
"I'm scared of being the father who has to tell her no again."
She sat across from him.
Mark stared at his hands.
"I couldn't fix the stairs when she started struggling. I couldn't fix whatever was happening to her legs. I can't fix the fact that she's getting weaker."
Rachel reached across the table.
Mark's voice broke.
"And now some guy who doesn't even know her wants to build a motorcycle, and part of me hates him because he's doing something I couldn't think of."
Rachel moved her chair closer.
Mark covered his face.
"I know that sounds terrible."
"No," she whispered.
He looked up.
Rachel's eyes were wet.
"It sounds like you're her daddy."
Mark reached for her.
They held each other in the quiet kitchen.
After a while, Rachel whispered, "Maybe we should go see what he's doing."
Mark nodded slowly.
"Maybe."
Neither knew that the visit would change far more than their opinion of the motorcycle.