“You saw my husband for almost a year?”
“Not often.”
“Four times.”
Rachel stared.
“Why hide that from me?”
“He asked me to.”
Anger rose immediately.
Hammer did not defend himself.
Rachel stood.
“That was my husband.”
“I know.”
“He was dying.”
“I know.”
“And you met with him four times without telling me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Hammer looked toward Noah.
“Because every meeting was about him.”
Rachel followed his gaze.
Her anger faltered.
Hammer continued.
“Daniel wasn't trying to build a secret life.”
“He was trying to prepare something for your son.”
Rachel sat again.
“What?”
Hammer exhaled.
“The ride.”
She looked at the handwriting.
LET MY BOY FINISH THE RIDE.
“I still don't understand what that means.”
Hammer nodded.
“Neither did I the first time.”
Their first reunion happened at a diner outside town.
Daniel looked nothing like the young father in the photograph.
Chemotherapy had thinned him.
His beard had disappeared.
He wore a knit cap despite the summer heat.
Hammer recognized his eyes.
Daniel sat across from him.
“You probably don't remember me.”
Hammer answered:
“Blue wristband.”
Daniel laughed.
“That’s unfair.”
“You remembered?”
“You were scared enough for three people.”
Daniel's smile softened.
“So were you.”
Hammer looked at him.
Daniel continued.
“You thought I didn't notice.”
“But I did.”
The sentence made Hammer uncomfortable.
“What do you need?”
Daniel became serious.
“My son.”
Hammer leaned back.
“Noah.”
“You remember his name?”
“You told me.”
Daniel looked almost relieved.
“Yes.”
“Noah.”
He reached into a bag.
Pulled out the old photograph.
Hammer stared.
“You kept that?”
“My wife took one look and said the biker looked like he wanted to throw me off the motorcycle.”
Hammer laughed.
“That sounds accurate.”
“Anyway.”
Daniel placed the photograph between them.
“I’m sick.”
Hammer's smile disappeared.
“How sick?”
“Terminal.”
There was no good answer.
Hammer hated that too.
Daniel saved him from trying.
“I need you to promise me something.”
Hammer stared.
“I barely know you.”
“I know.”
“That’s why I picked you.”
Hammer frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.”
Daniel nodded.
“It will.”
Then he told him about Noah.
Seven years old then.
Curious.
Mechanically obsessed.
Loved drawing motorcycles despite never sitting on one.
Asked questions about engines Daniel sometimes pretended to know answers to.
Daniel had wanted to teach him.
He had imagined buying another motorcycle someday.
A project bike.
Father and son in the garage.
Then cancer arrived.