Grant nodded.
“Her name was Rachel.”
“She died three years ago.”
“Car accident.”
Grant looked down.
“Lucas raised him alone after?”
“Yes.”
“He was a good father.”
Grant did not doubt it.
“How did Lucas die?”
“Pancreatic cancer.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“How long?”
“Seven months from diagnosis.”
“Did he know?”
“That he was dying?”
Grant nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he call me?”
The grandmother looked at him for a long time.
“Because dying doesn’t automatically make people brave.”
Grant stared.
She continued.
“He wrote letters.”
“Many.”
“Some he burned.”
“One to you stayed in a drawer for weeks.”
“That one?”
Grant touched his vest where Lucas’s note rested.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“That was the short one.”
Grant almost smiled.
“There’s another?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“With me.”
His heart started pounding.
“Why didn’t Noah bring it?”
“Lucas told me to decide.”
Grant stared.
“Decide what?”
“Whether meeting you would hurt Noah more than help him.”
The words landed heavily.
“And?”
She looked at the sleeping boy.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Grant nodded.
He did not argue.
That surprised her.
“You’re not going to ask for it?”
“I want it.”
Grant looked toward Noah.
“But Lucas trusted you.”
“So I guess I have to.”
The grandmother studied him.
“Maybe you changed.”
Grant gave a bitter smile.
“Today has been educational.”
They left shortly after ten.
Grant stood outside the clubhouse watching their taillights disappear down the road.
He wanted to follow.
He did not.
He had made too many mistakes by deciding what other people needed before they told him.
So he waited.
The next morning Grant woke before dawn.
He drove to the clubhouse.
Nobody else was there.
He stood before Lucas’s restored plaque.
For nearly an hour.
Then he went to the workshop.
The miniature motorcycle had remained with Noah, but Grant remembered every detail.
He pulled scrap tubing from a bin.
A tiny bolt.
A worn speedometer cap.
Without planning to, he began building.
At nine, Ellis found him hunched over the workbench.
“What are you doing?”
Grant did not look up.
“Nothing.”
Ellis examined the tiny metal wheel in his hand.
“That’s an extremely small nothing.”
Grant ignored him.
Ellis leaned against the table.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Grant looked up.
“What?”
“You’d worry me if you were.”
Grant returned to sanding.
Ellis said: