He had not intended that.
Rachel could see.
He looked at the bracelet.
Then Lily.
Finally:
“No.”
Lily blinked.
Cole smiled gently.
“This one stays with me.”
Rachel respected him more for that answer than if he had handed it over.
Not every symbol of grief needed to become a gift.
Cole touched the bracelet.
“But I'll make you one.”
Lily’s eyes widened.
“You know how?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
He looked toward the bikers.
“One of those idiots knows everything.”
A biker shouted:
“I heard that!”
Lily laughed.
The afternoon continued.
Neighbors brought chairs.
Someone ordered pizza.
Frank from the diner arrived on an old blue motorcycle wearing a helmet so oversized Rachel barely recognized him.
She stared.
“You ride?”
Frank removed the helmet.
“Thirty-eight years.”
“You complain when I drive over thirty.”
“Cars are dangerous.”
Rachel stared.
He walked away before she could respond.
At seven, sunlight softened.
Bikers began preparing to leave.
Not all together.
Cole had asked them to start engines one at a time so the noise would not overwhelm Lily.
Rachel noticed.
He had noticed the way Lily flinched earlier when all twelve engines arrived.
He had never mentioned it.
The first rider started.
Left.
Then another.
Lily waved.
Eventually only Cole remained.
His black motorcycle stood near the curb.
Rachel carried the money containers inside and locked them in a cupboard she did not trust despite the lock.
Then she returned.
Cole stood beside his bike.
Lily had fallen asleep on the porch chair.
Pink cap pulled low.
Yellow dress wrinkled.
Rachel draped the hospital blanket across her.
Cole watched.
“She’s something.”
Rachel smiled.
“She’s exhausting.”
“Usually the good ones are.”
Rachel looked at him.
“Tell me about Megan.”
Cole leaned against the motorcycle.
For a moment she thought he might refuse.
Then he smiled.
“She was mean.”
Rachel laughed.
“Seriously.”
“She was five feet three and terrorized grown mechanics.”
“She worked with you?”
“Since she could hold a wrench.”
“What did she want to do?”
“Everything.”
He looked toward the sunset.
“Travel.”
“Open her own shop.”
“Maybe teach.”
“She changed every six months.”
“Twenty-two.”
Rachel smiled sadly.
“You still sound angry.”
Cole nodded.
“I am.”
“At who?”
“Depends on the day.”
“Doctors.”
“God.”
“Myself.”
“Cancer.”
“People who say stupid things.”
Rachel understood that one.
“What stupid things?”
Cole counted.
“Everything happens for a reason.”
Rachel groaned.
“She's in a better place.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“God only gives you what you can handle.”
They spoke together:
“I hate that one.”
They both laughed.
Cole looked at her.
“People mean well.”
“I know.”
“That doesn't make it helpful.”