She couldn't always speak about her late husband without crying.
But the biker could.
He made the boy laugh.
And for a little while, the house felt less empty.
Then came the Friday night when everything changed.
That Friday began like any other.
The mother woke at six.
Packed her son's lunch.
Found a missing school library book beneath the couch.
And spent ten minutes searching for a clean pair of socks after discovering that the washing machine hadn't finished its cycle.
The boy ate cereal at the kitchen table.
He wore a bright blue sweatshirt and insisted on telling her every detail of a science project involving model bridges.
His mother listened while checking the clock.
She wanted to give him her full attention.
But she was running late.
At seven-thirty, she drove him to school.
He kissed her cheek before climbing out of the car.
Then turned back.
"Mom?"
She smiled.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Can Grandpa Biker come over tonight?"
She laughed.
"He practically lives here."
The boy grinned.
"Please?"
She nodded.
"I'll ask him."
The child smiled.
Then hurried toward the school entrance.
She watched until he disappeared inside.
For some reason, that ordinary moment remained painfully clear after the fire.
His blue sweatshirt.
His crooked backpack.
And the way he'd waved before entering the building.
She would remember it whenever she wondered whether she'd been a good mother.
At work, the day became difficult.
A scheduling system malfunctioned.
Two employees called in sick.
And an elderly patient became upset when a transportation arrangement fell through.
The mother stayed late to help resolve the problems.
By the time she left, her head ached and her shoulders felt stiff.
She stopped for groceries.
Then drove home beneath a sky already turning gray.
The old biker's pickup was parked near the garage.
She smiled when she saw it.
Inside, the boy was sitting at the kitchen table drawing motorcycles.
The biker stood beside the refrigerator holding a screwdriver.
He was repairing a loose cabinet hinge.
The mother stopped in the doorway.
"Do you ever visit without fixing something?"
The old man grinned.
"Not if I can help it."
She laughed.
Then set the groceries down.
The boy jumped from his chair.
"Mom! Look!"
He held up a drawing.
It showed a black motorcycle with enormous wheels and a rider wearing a flowing cape.