Lauren looked at it.
“You took it apart.”
“Specialist showed me what I could replace.”
“The folding joint bent.”
“Elastic cord survived.”
“Lower section is fine.”
“He’s sending the approved connector.”
Lauren studied him.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did.”
Sophie turned toward Wade’s voice.
“You always this stubborn?”
“Yes.”
Lauren said:
“Yes.”
Wade looked at her.
“That was quick.”
She almost smiled.
Then grew serious.
“I owe you an apology.”
He shook his head.
“You were scared.”
“I screamed at you.”
“You saw a stranger grabbing your kid.”
“I also kept screaming after you pointed at the truck.”
Wade shrugged.
“Adrenaline.”
Lauren looked at Sophie.
Her daughter had been listening carefully.
Lauren continued.
“And I did exactly what Sophie keeps asking people not to do.”
“I decided what happened around her instead of asking her.”
Sophie reached for her mother’s hand.
Lauren squeezed it.
Wade looked away.
Apologies made him uncomfortable.
Praise was worse.
Sophie stepped closer to the workbench.
“Is the bird here?”
Wade’s shoulders tightened.
“On my arm?”
“Yeah.”
“Still here.”
“Can I feel it again?”
Lauren did not interrupt this time.
Wade extended his forearm.
Sophie found the old tattoo.
Her fingertips traced the folded wing.
Then the initials beneath it.
She could not read them visually.
“What’s written?”
Wade hesitated.
“E.M.H.”
“Who’s that?”
“My sister.”
“What was her name?”
“Emily.”
“Is she the bird?”
Wade looked toward Lauren.
Lauren sensed that the answer belonged somewhere private.
“You don’t have to tell her.”
Sophie frowned.
“I didn’t ask you.”
Lauren closed her eyes.
“Fair.”
Wade almost smiled.
Then he looked at the tattoo again.
“The bird was hers.”
“She drew birds all the time.”
“Ravens mostly.”
“Why?”
“She said people thought they were ugly because they didn’t understand them.”
Sophie nodded approvingly.
“Smart.”
“She was.”
“Was?”
Wade said nothing.
Sophie’s hand stopped.
“Did she die?”
Wade swallowed.
“That’s what I thought.”
Lauren heard the exact wording.
“What you thought?”
Wade pulled his arm back gently.
The motorcycle shop suddenly felt smaller.
One mechanic at the far end had stopped moving.
Another quietly walked into the storage room, giving Wade privacy.
Sophie asked:
“What happened?”
Wade stared at the concrete floor.
“Thirty years ago, I was twenty-two.”
“Emily was seventeen.”
“Our father wasn’t a good man.”
Lauren remained silent.
Wade continued.
“He drank.”
“He got mean.”
“Mostly with me.”
“Then one night he turned on her.”