"Mommy said... I had to find you," she gasped out between ragged breaths.
Jackson’s brow furrowed beneath his bandana. "Find me? Kid, I don't know who you are. You must have the wrong guy."
"No," she said firmly, her tiny voice trembling from the cold but unwavering in its conviction.
She raised both hands to her chest. Slowly, with delicate, shaking fingers, she began untangling something she had been holding safe against her heart. It was a handcrafted bracelet, woven intricately from seven vibrant strands of embroidery thread—a brilliant rainbow pattern that defied the dreary grey of the stormy afternoon. Dangling from the center of the braid was a small, polished silver charm shaped like a heart.
"Mommy made it for you," the girl whispered, sniffling as a gust of chilly wind swept between them. "She made it before she had to go to heaven."
A cold, electric shock shot straight through Jackson’s spine. The air in his lungs felt suddenly thin, as if the desert storm had sucked all the oxygen from the atmosphere. He stared at the colorful threads clutched in her small, shivering hand. That specific braid. That distinct pattern of red, gold, green, and blue woven into a flat, tight chevron.
"That's... that's a beautiful bracelet," Jackson managed to say, his voice losing every trace of its usual gruff defense.
"She told me to put it in your hand," the girl said.
Jackson extended his right hand. His palm was enormous, crisscrossed with thick callouses, burn marks from hot exhaust pipes, and the dark, indelible dirt that never fully washes out of a mechanic’s skin. The girl stepped closer and gently laid the wet bracelet across his open palm.
The silver charm was cool against his skin. Jackson lifted his left hand, his thick fingers trembling with an intensity he hadn't felt in decades. With a gentle touch, he wiped the rainwater off the face of the silver heart.