The boy sighed.
Big Dave chuckled.
For the first time, it wasn't an unkind sound.
Rusty called Mara and explained what happened.
She was surprised.
Then skeptical.
“My eight-year-old son told six motorcycle mechanics how to fix an engine?”
Rusty rubbed his forehead.
“That's one way to describe it.”
Mara sighed.
“Rusty.”
He looked toward Leo.
“I'm serious. He remembered things Arthur apparently never put in the ordinary service records.”
There was silence.
Then Mara asked, “Is anybody letting him work on the motorcycle?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Rusty smiled faintly.
“We'll keep him safely away from the actual repair work. But I'd like to let him explain what he remembers and perhaps identify old drawings if we find them.”
Mara considered that.
Then she said quietly, “Arthur used to talk to him about that bike all the time.”
Rusty nodded.
“I'm starting to understand that.”
There was another pause.
Then Mara asked whether Leo had completed his schoolwork.
Rusty looked toward the boy.
Leo was staring at him with an expression of desperate hope.
The mechanic smiled.
“I'm checking.”
He covered the phone.
“Leo. Math?”
The boy sighed.
“Almost.”
Rusty turned back toward Mara.
“Almost.”
She laughed.
“Tell him I want it finished before dinner.”
Rusty grinned.
“Yes, ma'am.”
When the call ended, he looked toward Leo.
“Your mother says you can stay and observe after you finish your homework.”
Leo's face brightened.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Then Rusty pointed toward the office.
“Go.”
The boy grabbed his broom.
“Can I finish sweeping first?”
Rusty stared.
Then laughed.
“Leo, for once in your life, put the broom down.”
The men smiled.
Leo hurried toward the office.
For several seconds, Gravel watched him go.
Then he looked toward Rusty.
“How long has the kid been coming here?”
“About two years.”
“Since Arty died?”
Rusty nodded.
“His mother's doing her best. She's a good woman.”
Gravel looked toward the doorway.
Then asked something quietly.
“Does he know how much his father meant to Dutch?”
Rusty hesitated.
“I don't think anybody's told him the whole story.”
The club president stared toward the black FXR.
For a moment, he remembered Arthur kneeling beside the motorcycle years earlier, carefully explaining an unusual modification while Dutch pretended to understand every word.
He remembered the two men laughing.
Arthur with his serious brown eyes.
Dutch with his ridiculous confidence.
Then he remembered Arthur's funeral.
Dutch had stood near the back of the church.
He'd barely spoken.
Afterward, Gravel found him beside his motorcycle, staring at the ground.