“I know.”
“But don't pretend the motive is mysterious.”
Tyler nodded slowly.
“I wanted her to think I was loyal.”
Marcus looked toward him.
“Loyalty that requires stupidity isn't loyalty.”
Tyler smiled slightly.
“That's harsh.”
“Work faster.”
They returned to framing.
Week after week, Tyler came back.
Sometimes for required hours.
Eventually after he completed them.
Marcus noticed the change but did not mention it.
Brenda noticed too.
She hated it.
She sent Tyler messages.
His father Robert, who had spent much of the legal conflict emotionally absent, eventually separated from Brenda and moved into an apartment.
Tyler stayed mostly with him.
One Saturday, Tyler arrived angry.
Marcus handed him a board.
“Cut eighty-three and three-eighths.”
Tyler stared.
“My mom says you're turning me against her.”
Marcus marked another board.
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then problem solved.”
“She says you enjoy watching our family fall apart.”
Marcus stopped.
He looked at Tyler.
“No.”
The teenager waited.
Marcus continued:
“I enjoy watching you stop lying.”
“Different thing.”
Tyler's anger softened.
Marcus added:
“And your family didn't fall apart because you told the truth.”
“It fell apart because the truth could no longer be hidden.”
Tyler stared.
Then nodded.
“Eighty-three and three-eighths?”
“Yes.”
He went to the saw.
By summer, the new garage was finished.
Marcus organized an open-house barbecue mostly because Andre insisted.
Neighbors came.
Clients came.
Officer Martinez came off duty with her husband.
Maya arrived carrying wine.
Tyler stood near the new workbench wearing a plain navy T-shirt.
Brenda did not attend.
That was fine.
At sunset, Marcus pulled Tyler aside.
He handed him a small wooden box.
Tyler opened it.
Inside was a restored hand plane.
Old.
Heavy.
Wooden handle polished smooth.
“What is this?”
“My grandfather's.”
Tyler's face changed.
“The one from the crash?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought it was destroyed.”
“Body cracked.”
“Blade bent.”
“I rebuilt it.”
Tyler stared.
Marcus continued:
“Tools aren't people.”
“Don't overdo the symbolism.”
Tyler laughed through sudden tears.
Marcus said:
“But sometimes something gets damaged and can still become useful again.”
Tyler looked at the plane.
“You giving this to me?”
“No.”
Tyler blinked.
Marcus smiled.
“You're borrowing it.”
“Earn ownership.”
Tyler laughed.
“Fair.”
The boy ran one thumb along the wooden handle.
Then looked toward Marcus.
“I don't know what to say.”
“Good.”
“You've said enough over the last year.”
Tyler laughed again.
The garage became more than Marcus expected.
He started teaching weekend woodworking classes.
At first neighbors.
Then teenagers from a local youth program.
Tyler volunteered.
He was surprisingly good with younger kids.
Patient.
Especially with mistakes.
When a thirteen-year-old boy ruined a walnut board by drilling through the wrong side, the kid looked ready to cry.