Caleb’s voice became smaller.
“He said I’m the man when he’s gone.”
Hannah looked at him.
“Your father never meant you had to become an adult.”
“He said protect you and Mia.”
“He meant love us.”
“Same thing.”
“No, baby.”
She touched his face.
“It isn’t.”
A weak voice came from the bed.
“Why are you fighting?”
Both turned.
Five-year-old Mia lay beneath a pale hospital blanket.
She was small for her age, with long brown hair spread across the pillow and a nasal oxygen tube beneath her nose.
Caleb immediately approached.
“We’re not fighting.”
Mia squinted at Scout.
“You have him.”
“Of course.”
“I thought you sold him.”
Caleb looked at his mother.
Hannah raised an eyebrow.
Apparently Mia had known about the plan.
“You two planned this?”
Mia smiled weakly.
“I told him he should charge fifteen.”
Hannah nearly laughed again.
Caleb placed Scout beside Mia.
“No. Ten was enough.”
Then the windows began to vibrate.
At first, Hannah thought a helicopter was landing.
Then the sound became deeper.
Rhythmic.
Rolling.
Mia’s eyes widened.
“What’s that?”
Caleb walked toward the window.
The sound grew louder.
Engine after engine.
Hannah joined him.
Far below, motorcycles were turning into the hospital driveway.
One.
Five.
Ten.
More came around the corner.
Hospital employees stepped outside.
Visitors stopped on the sidewalk.
Security guards looked confused.
Twenty motorcycles became thirty.
Thirty became forty.
Then more.
Mia pushed herself upright.
“Mom?”
Hannah stared through the glass.
“What in the world…?”
Caleb’s eyes searched the growing crowd.
Then he saw Mason.
The biker stood in the middle of the parking lot.
But he was no longer holding Scout.
Caleb had Scout.
Instead, Mason held something rectangular.
Old.
Faded.
A photograph.
Even from the seventh floor, Caleb could see what was in it.
Two boys.
And one of them was holding a teddy bear that looked exactly like his.
Caleb pressed both hands against the window.
“Mom.”
Hannah looked down.
“What?”
Caleb pointed.
“That man has a picture of Scout.”
Twenty-three minutes later, Hannah stood near the hospital entrance with Caleb beside her.
She had not wanted to come downstairs.
Security had already spoken to the bikers and learned they were not causing trouble.
In fact, the motorcycles were parked in perfect rows.
Several riders carried grocery bags.
One had boxes of diapers.
Another carried restaurant gift cards.
A woman in a black Iron Harbor vest held two shopping bags from a children’s clothing store.
Someone had brought balloons.
Another biker had somehow acquired six family-sized pizzas.
The hospital administrator looked utterly bewildered.
Mason stood slightly apart from everyone.
Caleb immediately walked toward him.
“You came back.”
“Told you I called my brothers.”
Caleb looked around.
“They’re all your brothers?”
“And sisters.”
“That’s a lot.”
“I warned you.”
Caleb pointed toward Mason’s hand.
“What’s that?”
Mason looked at Hannah first.
She stepped between Caleb and him instinctively.
“You’re the man who gave him money?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“He shouldn’t have been outside.”
“I figured.”
“He said you bought his bear.”
“I did.”
“And then gave it back.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mason hesitated.
“Because an eight-year-old shouldn’t have to sell the only thing he owns to feed his mother.”
Hannah’s face reddened.
“We’re not asking for charity.”
“I know.”
“We’re fine.”
Mason glanced at the bags being unloaded behind him.
Then back at her.
“With respect, ma’am, your son disagrees.”
Hannah’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t know anything about us.”
“You’re right.”
Mason’s tone remained calm.
“That’s why I’m not going to pretend I do.”
He held out the photograph.
“But I think I might know something about that bear.”
Hannah stared at the picture.
Caleb leaned closer.
His mouth fell open.
“That’s Scout.”
Mason shook his head.
“Back then his name was Charlie.”
Caleb looked horrified.
“You changed his name?”
“My little brother did.”
Hannah lifted her eyes.
“Your brother?”
Mason pointed to the younger child in the photograph.
“Owen.”
Something changed in Hannah’s expression.
Not recognition.
But caution.
Mason saw it.
“He was eight when that picture was taken.”
Caleb touched the corner of the photograph.
“That’s you?”
“The ugly one.”
“You had weird hair.”
Bear Sullivan burst out laughing behind them.
Mason ignored him.
Hannah looked more closely at the picture.
“How old is this?”
“Almost forty years.”
Caleb stared at Scout.
“That’s impossible.”
“I thought so too.”
Mason pointed to the repaired ear.
“I stitched that.”
Hannah frowned.
“My husband said he fixed it.”
Mason’s eyes sharpened.
“Your husband?”
“Daniel.”
“He told you he stitched the ear?”
Hannah shook her head.
“He told Caleb.”
Caleb hugged the bear.
“Dad said he fixed Scout when he was a kid.”
The world seemed to narrow around Mason.
“When he was a kid?”
Caleb nodded.
“He said Scout got hurt because somebody pulled too hard.”
Mason’s face went pale.
Hannah noticed.
“What is happening?”
Mason barely heard her.
He crouched in front of Caleb.
“What was your dad’s name?”
“Daniel.”
“Daniel Carter?”
“Yes.”
“How old was he?”
Caleb looked at Hannah.
“Forty-seven when he died,” she answered.
Mason slowly stood.
Bear stopped laughing.
Luis became completely still.
Mason whispered, “When?”
“Eighteen months ago.”
“How?”
“Work accident.”
Hannah looked between the bikers.
“Why?”
Mason swallowed.
“My brother would be forty-eight.”
Hannah stared.