“I forgot about that.”
“When?”
“You were two.”
“Did I know he was Grandpa?”
“No.”
“Did he know me?”
Claire smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
“Very much.”
Leo stared at the photograph.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Claire sat beside him on the grass.
“Because your dad asked him not to.”
“Why?”
“Arthur wanted to explain the family when you were old enough to understand that having two fathers in his life wasn’t simple.”
Leo looked confused.
“Thomas and Dutch.”
“Yes.”
“Did Dad love both?”
“Very much.”
“Then why is that complicated?”
Claire smiled.
“Adults are talented at making simple feelings complicated.”
Leo considered this.
“That’s dumb.”
“Yes.”
“It often is.”
A shadow fell across them.
Jim stood nearby.
He had heard the last sentence.
“Your mother is wise.”
Claire raised an eyebrow.
“Remember that.”
Jim sat.
For several minutes they watched riders moving through the memorial.
Leo asked, “Did Dutch love Dad?”
Jim answered without hesitation.
“Yes.”
“Even before Dad forgave him?”
Jim thought.
“Yes.”
“Did Dad love Dutch?”
“Eventually.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Jim looked impressed.
Claire hid a smile.
Jim answered more carefully.
“I think Arthur loved him before he trusted him.”
Leo looked toward the river.
“Those are different?”
“Very.”
Leo remembered that.
The memorial ride ended without mechanical failure.
The FXR ran perfectly.
But the story did not end Saturday.
For Leo, it really began afterward.
The following Monday, he returned to Blackstone after school.
His broom leaned against the same garbage barrel.
His homework waited on the counter.
Arthur’s toolbox sat in Russell’s office because Claire did not want expensive tools disappearing into Leo’s bedroom beside Lego pieces and crayons.
Frank called him over.
“I have something.”
Leo walked toward him.
On the workbench sat a small single-cylinder engine.
Old.
Dirty.
Removed from a lawn tractor.
Leo looked disappointed.
“That isn’t a motorcycle.”
Frank nodded.
“You noticed.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I know.”
“Then why am I here?”
Frank handed him a flashlight.
“You’re going to figure it out.”
Leo stared.
“You already know.”
“Yes.”
“That’s cheating.”
“For me.”
Frank smiled.
“Not for you.”
Leo looked at Russell.
Russell shrugged.
“Homework first.”
Leo groaned.
The education began that way.
Not with Dutch’s FXR.
Not with club motorcycles.
With a lawn tractor engine nobody cared about.
Frank taught him how to observe.
Compression.
Spark.
Fuel.
Air.