Not well.
But enough.
Twenty years ago, Michael Carter had been a gifted motorcycle mechanic who occasionally worked at a shop outside Nashville.
Ray had met him twice.
Maybe three times.
Then Michael had disappeared.
Ray had heard rumors.
Drug problems.
Debt.
Divorce.
Running away.
Nobody seemed to know the truth.
Ray looked at the boy.
“Your father wasn't just a mechanic.”
Eli's expression tightened.
“What do you mean?”
Ray handed back the photograph.
“I don't know yet.”
Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance.
The first drops of rain struck the pavement.
Ray looked at the approaching storm.
Then at Eli's backpack.
Then at the highway.
“You're not walking to Knoxville.”
Eli immediately shook his head.
“I don't need a ride.”
“I didn't say you did.”
“You're going south.”
“I was.”
“Then go.”
Ray looked at him.
“You always this good at making people want to help you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Ray put on his helmet.
“Get on.”
Eli stared.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“I don't have a helmet.”
Ray opened the saddlebag and pulled out an old spare helmet.
It was scratched, but intact.
“I do.”
Eli hesitated.
“Mr. Mercer—”
“Ray.”
“Ray. I don't want to owe you.”
Ray looked directly at him.
“You don't.”
“Then why?”
Ray started the motorcycle.
The engine rumbled beneath them.
“Because seventeen-year-old boys shouldn't walk through Tennessee carrying everything they own.”
Eli stared at the bike.
Then at Ray.
Finally, he picked up the helmet.
And climbed on.
Neither of them knew that the decision would change both their lives.
The Road North
The rain arrived twenty miles later.
Not a drizzle.
A hard Tennessee autumn rain that turned the highway into a sheet of silver.
Eli sat behind Ray, holding the rear grab bar instead of Ray's waist.
Ray didn't comment.
He had learned something about the kid already.
Eli didn't like taking anything.
Not food.
Not money.
Not sympathy.
Not even a hand when one was offered.
For the first hour, they barely spoke.
The motorcycle moved steadily through the rain.
Ray kept his speed conservative.
Eventually they stopped at a covered picnic shelter beside a closed visitor center.
Eli climbed off.
He removed the helmet.
His hair was flattened against his forehead.
Ray laughed.
“What?”
“You look like you've been attacked by a lawn mower.”
Eli smiled.
It disappeared quickly.
Ray leaned against the motorcycle.
“Tell me about your father.”
Eli stared at the rain.
“He could fix anything.”
“So you said.”
“Cars. Bikes. generators. Farm equipment. Appliances.”
“Sounds useful.”
“He didn't like new things.”
Ray smiled.
“Neither do I.”
“He said new things were designed to make old things look broken.”
Ray laughed.
“That sounds like a mechanic.”
Eli nodded.
Then his expression darkened.
“After he got sick, he couldn't work.”
“What happened?”
“We lost the house.”
Ray said nothing.
“The bank took it.”
“Did you have somewhere to go?”
“We stayed with someone.”
“Who?”
“My aunt.”
“Where is she now?”
Eli looked at him.
“She died.”
Ray's face tightened.
“I'm sorry.”
“Then social services wanted to place me somewhere.”
“And?”
“I left.”
“Why?”
“I wasn't going to a group home.”
Ray studied him.
“How long have you been on the road?”
“Six days.”
“Sleeping where?”
Eli shrugged.
“Wherever.”
Ray exhaled.
He looked at the teenager again.
Six days.
No adult.
No permanent shelter.
Seventeen.
And walking toward Knoxville to find a man he barely knew.
“What do you expect Daniel Carter to do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why find him?”
Eli reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“My dad left this.”
Ray didn't take it.
“What does it say?”
“It's an address.”
“To Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Eli shook his head.
Ray looked toward the rain.
“Then we find him.”
Eli stared.
“You're serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Why?”
Ray started the engine.
“Because I hate unanswered questions.”
They rode another forty miles before stopping at a small roadside motel.
Ray paid for two nights.
Eli objected immediately.
“I can sleep outside.”
“No.”
“I can sleep in the garage.”
“No.”
“I can—”
“Eli.”
The boy stopped.
“You're getting a room.”
“But—”
“I'm getting a room.”
Ray handed him the key.
“Room twelve.”
“What about you?”
“Room eleven.”
Eli stared at the key.
“You don't have to do this.”
Ray looked at him.
“I know.”
That night, Ray couldn't sleep.