Jack cried harder.
And after eleven years, the grief finally had somewhere to go.
The Title
Jack returned the next morning.
He held a folded document.
Lyra opened it.
The motorcycle title.
Her name was written on it.
Lyra Mae Carter.
She stared.
"No."
Jack raised an eyebrow.
"You came for the bike."
"I changed my mind."
"Why?"
"Tommy wouldn't have wanted it sitting in a junkyard."
Lyra looked at the motorcycle.
"I don't know what he would've wanted."
Jack nodded.
"No. But I know what he didn't want."
"What?"
"He didn't want me sitting in a chair for eleven years while I was still breathing."
That silenced her.
Lyra looked toward her Airstream.
"I don't have anywhere to go."
Jack nodded.
"You ever been west?"
"Everything is west from here."
"I mean past New Mexico."
"No."
"You want to?"
She looked at the motorcycle.
For the first time in her life, leaving seemed possible.
But she was afraid.
Not of the road.
Of having somewhere to return to.
Jack seemed to understand.
"You don't have to leave today."
"If I don't, I might not."
He nodded.
"Then don't decide tonight."
Learning to Stay
Lyra stayed in Amarillo.
Three more weeks.
Jack began coming to the yard.
At first, he only watched.
Then he brought tools.
Old tools.
Good tools.
Tommy's tools.
A torque wrench.
A timing light.
A leather roll of hand tools.
"These were Tommy's?"
"Some."
"Should I use them?"
"That's what they're for."
They began working together.
Jack taught Lyra things she didn't know.
Lyra taught Jack things he had forgotten.
They argued constantly.
"Not like that."
"Then how?"
"Feel the resistance before you trust the wrench."
"That sounds like old-man poetry."
"It's torque."
"Same thing."
Jack smiled.
A real smile.
Martha Lou noticed.
Hector noticed.
Even Deputy Holt noticed.
Nobody said anything.
Some things were better left alone.
Then came the tank.
Jack wanted to repaint it completely.
Lyra wanted to keep the burn scar.
"It looks ugly," Jack said.
"It looks honest."
"It looks damaged."
"It is damaged."
Jack stared at her.
"You always this sentimental about scars?"
"Are you always this afraid of them?"
He had no answer.
They kept the scar.
But Lyra painted the rest of the tank deep blue after Martha Lou found an old photograph of Tommy beside the motorcycle.
At the bottom, she painted two small words.
Ride free.
The Road
The morning Lyra left, everyone came to Hector's yard.
Hector pretended he had work near the gate.
Martha Lou brought enough food for three people.
Deputy Holt brought a gas card.
Jack arrived last.