He could feel her watching.
“Try it again.”
She climbed inside.
The starter clicked.
Jack leaned closer to the engine bay.
“Again.”
Click.
He traced the cable.
“Loose connection.”
“Is that bad?”
“Not if you stop trying to murder it.”
She laughed.
The sound hit him harder than the voice.
Jack straightened.
For a second, he looked directly at her.
She stopped laughing.
There it was again.
Recognition.
Impossible recognition.
The woman touched the edge of her cardigan.
“I’m Maya.”
Jack hesitated.
“Jack.”
“I know.”
Silence.
She immediately looked embarrassed.
“I mean, Sophie told me.”
Jack’s expression changed.
“You talked to my daughter?”
Maya raised both hands slightly.
“Yesterday. She was drawing with chalk near the mailbox. I introduced myself.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
Jack looked toward his garage.
Sophie was still on the stool, swinging one leg.
He looked back.
Maya seemed hurt by his suspicion, but she did not argue.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I do if I sounded accusatory.”
“You’re her father.”
The way she said it unsettled him.
Not you’re a father.
You’re her father.
Jack turned back to the engine.
“Bring it over.”
“What?”
“Car. Garage.”
“You don’t have to.”
“The connector is buried farther down. Easier with tools.”
“I can pay.”
Jack glanced at her.
“I haven’t fixed anything yet.”
Maya smiled faintly.
“You sound exactly like—”
She stopped.
Jack waited.
“Like what?”
“Like a mechanic.”
He stared.
She looked away.
The locked door inside his memory scraped again.
He ignored it.
Twenty minutes later the white crossover sat inside Jack’s garage with its hood raised.
Sophie had moved her stool near the side wall.
Maya stood opposite Jack near the bumper, clutching her cardigan around herself despite the warmth.
Jack removed the loose starter connection, cleaned the terminal, reseated it, and tightened the mounting point.
The entire job took twelve minutes.
He wiped his hands on a rag.
“Try it.”
Maya started the engine.
It turned immediately.
Relief crossed her face.
Then something else.
Sadness.
Jack hated noticing.
He closed the hood.
“Loose starter wire.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
She switched the engine off.
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
“Jack.”
“Ten-minute repair.”
“Your time still matters.”
He looked at her.
Her eyes were dark brown.
No.
Not exactly.
Hazel near the center.
He knew eyes like that.
Jack looked away.
“Buy Sophie ice cream someday.”
Maya’s face changed.
Not dramatically.
A tiny collapse at the corners of her mouth.
She stared toward the girl.
Sophie was humming while drawing.
Maya whispered, “She’s gotten so big.”
Jack stopped wiping his hands.
The garage became silent.