Nora's voice softened.
“I know, Mrs. Miller. You were frightened and wanted company.”
She paused.
“There's nothing wrong with asking people not to leave you alone.”
Bear looked toward Ruth.
His expression grew gentle.
“We're not pretending about that part.”
The four bikers followed Ruth's small silver sedan back toward Cedar Hollow.
Luke drove her car because she admitted she'd been shaking too badly to feel comfortable behind the wheel.
Ruth sat beside him.
Her walker was folded carefully in the back.
Bear led on his motorcycle, followed by Tucker and Dean.
The trip took twenty minutes.
The highway narrowed into a two-lane road lined with oaks, weathered barns, and small houses set back behind fences.
The mountains rose blue in the distance.
Late spring sunlight moved across fields where cattle grazed beneath the trees.
Ruth kept glancing toward the motorcycles ahead.
Finally, she looked at Luke.
“Are they always that loud?”
Luke smiled.
“Usually.”
She laughed softly.
“My husband would've loved those machines.”
“Did he ride?”
“Not much after the war.”
She looked toward the window.
“But he could fix almost anything.”
Luke nodded.
“That sounds familiar.”
Ruth smiled.
Then her expression changed.
“There used to be more children along this road.”
Luke glanced toward her.
She continued.
“Bicycles everywhere. Dogs running between yards. People sitting outside after supper.”
She pointed toward a large new house behind a tall fence.
“That was a pasture once.”
Luke followed her gesture.
The property had been transformed into a modern home with black windows and carefully manicured landscaping.
Ruth sighed.
“Nothing wrong with people building nice houses.”
She smiled sadly.
“I just wish some of them remembered there were people here before they arrived.”
Luke didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “My grandfather used to say a neighborhood's history doesn't disappear just because someone buys new paint.”
Ruth smiled.
“That's a good saying.”
Luke shrugged.
“He had a few.”
They turned onto Willow Creek Road.
A narrow stream ran beside the pavement.
Tall trees shaded the shoulder.
Then Ruth pointed ahead.
“There.”
The little blue house appeared beyond a white wooden fence.
It was beautiful in the quiet way that only an old, carefully loved home could be.
The siding was faded but clean.
White shutters framed the windows.
A wide porch stretched across the front.