“A letter.”
“For Noah?”
“Yes.”
“And one for you.”
Rachel stared.
“You've had a letter from my husband for eleven months?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Hammer tapped his vest.
Her heart accelerated.
“You carry it?”
“Every ride.”
“Why didn't you mail it?”
“Daniel told me not to.”
Rachel's grief sharpened into frustration.
“Daniel gave too many instructions.”
Hammer smiled sadly.
“He really did.”
“When am I supposed to get it?”
Hammer looked toward the Harley.
“When Noah finished the drawing.”
Rachel turned.
The child was standing beside the tank.
The little figure behind his father still had no body.
Only a circle for a head.
Two unfinished arms.
Noah looked toward them.
“Can I finish it?”
Rachel could not answer.
Hammer stood.
He walked toward the motorcycle.
The other bikers watched from a respectful distance.
The solvent remained unopened.
Hammer crouched beside Noah.
“Do you want to?”
Noah nodded.
Hammer held out his hand.
“Marker.”
Noah gave it to him.
For a moment Rachel thought Hammer was finally going to remove the drawing.
Instead, he shook the marker.
Pressed the tip against a piece of cardboard until white paint flowed again.
Then returned it.
Noah looked uncertain.
“You’re not mad?”
Hammer looked at the tank.
He placed one enormous hand against the seat.
“No.”
“My dad said nobody can touch your motorcycle.”
Hammer frowned.
“Your dad told you about me?”
Noah nodded.
“Sometimes.”
Rachel stared.
Daniel had mentioned a biker named Hammer perhaps twice.
She had assumed it was someone from work.
Noah continued.
“He said you had the cleanest Harley in America.”
One of the bikers shouted from behind them:
“He lied!”
Laughter broke the tension.
Hammer turned.
“Keep talking and you're walking home.”
More laughter.
Noah smiled.
Then became serious again.
“Dad said you get mad if people touch it.”
Hammer nodded.
“Usually.”
“Why not me?”
Hammer looked at him for a long time.
“Because today it isn't just my motorcycle.”
Noah looked confused.
Hammer pointed toward the unfinished child.
“Finish your picture.”
Noah touched the marker to the tank.
Rachel held her breath.
White lines appeared.
Small body.
Arms around Daniel’s waist.
Tiny legs.
Then Noah stopped.
“I still need blue.”
Hammer nodded.
He returned to the saddlebag.
This time he brought the faded blue bandanna and a blue paint marker.
Rachel stared.
“Daniel gave you that too?”
“No.”
Hammer smiled.
“I bought it after our second meeting.”
Noah took it.
He carefully colored the rectangle around Daniel’s wrist.
Blue.
Then he added a tiny blue stripe to the child’s shirt.
Hammer watched.
“What's that?”
Noah smiled.
“My favorite color.”