Her hand rose to mouth.
“Where?”
“Locker forty-two.”
She looked at Leo.
“You knew?”
“Dad told me.”
“When?”
“Before hospital.”
Maria closed eyes.
Arthur’s final months had been leukemia treatment, not mechanical lessons? Let's establish. He had died from aggressive cancer two years earlier after short illness. During final months, he tried to make everything ordinary for Leo.
He had apparently also tried to preserve pieces of himself.
Maria sat.
“I didn't know locker was still here.”
Rusty said:
“I forgot.”
“You forgot his locker?”
“I thought you cleared it.”
“You told me toolbox was all.”
Rusty looked ashamed.
“I’m sorry.”
Maria touched wrapped pushrod.
Arthur’s handwriting.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
Leo answered softly:
“He said you’d throw away greasy junk.”
Maria looked.
The boy smiled nervously.
She laughed despite tears.
“That sounds like him.”
Jim approached slowly.
“Ma’am.”
Maria looked.
“Your husband kept Dutch’s bike running for nearly twenty years.”
“I know.”
“He also saved Dutch’s life once.”
Her expression changed.
“What?”
Jim looked at Rusty.
“You never told?”
Rusty shook head.
Jim pulled chair.
“May I?”
Maria nodded.
In 2004, Dutch and Arthur had been riding back from Reno.
A truck had crossed center line in rain.
Dutch went down.
Bike slid.
Dutch’s leg pinned.
Arthur had been behind.
He stopped, dragged Dutch away before leaking fuel ignited.
No grand explosion, just flames.
Arthur burned his forearm.
Dutch broke hip.
Arthur spent night hospital then returned next day to retrieve bike.
Maria stared.
“He told me burn was muffler.”
Jim smiled sadly.
“Arty didn't like hero stories.”
“He sure didn't.”
“Dutch never forgot.”
Jim looked at Leo.
“He trusted your dad with everything mechanical.”
Maria looked at bike.
“And now you're trusting my eight-year-old?”
Jim considered.
“I’m trusting what his father left.”
“And what boy remembers.”
She frowned.
“He is not staying all night.”
Leo started:
“Mom—”
“No.”
Rusty nodded immediately.
“Agreed.”
Jim said:
“He can come tomorrow after school?”
Maria stared.
Jim added:
“If you allow.”
Leo looked at mother with all hope in world.
She sighed.
“Homework first.”
Leo grinned.
“Yes.”
“And no heavy tools.”
“Yes.”
“And safety glasses.”