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Six months later

Monday, July 3rd

"Now, this was super hard to find." I say, nudging my wife forward, my hands over her eyes. "And I'm not sure how you're going to feel about it, but I've been searching for it for months. I've been going out to look at things similar, I've been working really hard to find this, okay? They're not easy to get your hands on, and I paid a lot of money. If you don't want it or you hate it, please let me down easy, okay? I'm not going to get mad at you if you don't want it."

"Um, okay." She says.

I walk her out into the cool July air.

Our whole family is waiting outside with the kids.

Lucy's head is healed, her wrist is out of the cast, and she's the happiest kid. Odeletta's arm is healed and she has surgery on her wrist and that's healed.

Our lives are normal again, and we built the barn in the backyard, along with a new pool and a playground in the back. Caroline has taken a love to horseback riding, so we put some equestrian bars and things for her to jump over. She's joined a group to help her horseback ride. Noemie is just being a teenager and hanging out with friends. So is Raylen, who is going strong with Abigail. They've been together for seven months. Lucy is in gymnastics, and Noah joined the baseball team.

I put me and all five kids, along with Odeletta in a long round of therapy. Odeletta took the longest to come to terms with what happened, but we all went through it and now we're okay mentally, physically, and emotionally.

I stop in the right spot.

"I'm really afraid to remove my hands." I say quietly. Her body is pressed against my chest, her hands on my wrists.

"Just do it, I'll be nice." She promises.

Without removing my hands, I reach around and kiss her cheek.

"Ready?" I ask.

"I guess so."

It's her forty third birthday today, and since her last birthday we have endured so much more than one person endures in a lifetime.

I keep my hand over her eyes as I move in front of her.

"Okay..."

I remove my hands.

Her almond eyes open, locking on the black motorcycle sitting in the driveway.

I start rambling.

"It's not Lucia." I begin. "I know it can't be Lucia. Lucia's gone, and I know you've taken a really long time to get over her, but I've been searching everywhere in the world, quite literally, for this motorcycle. It's the same bike. It's a 1996 Harley Davidson, the exact same model. I have been making calls for months. I found this one in Australia and paid a lot of money to get it shipped to America. When I saw it, it looked pretty close to Lucia, except it was red, so I got it painted. I found a pouch that looks the same and the seat cover, and you know how the kickstand they found in the explosion wreckage vanished a few weeks ago? Well, I got it put on the bike. It's all that was left of Lucia. She sounds the same, I think, but you knew Lucia better than anybody. If you hate it, we can sell it."

Her eyes are hesitant as she eyes the bike. I watch as she takes a few steps closer, reaching out to tenderly touch the seat, her fingertips following the curves of it.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as her hands glide along the bike, tracing it.

It looks completely identical.

"It only has twenty six thousand miles on it." I say quietly.

She opens her eyes, staring down at the bike.

The key rests in the ignition. She reaches out with a shaky hand and turns the key, doing the tickle and turning on the choke. She slams her foot down on the kickstart and the bike roars to life, making chills run up and down my arms.

It sounds almost identical. The way the bike purrs sounds identical, the way it sounds when it starts, and then returns to idle.

Her hands rest on the seat, her back to me.

She hates it.

"I'm sorry!" I exclaim. "I'll get rid of it right now and you never have to see it again!"

Her shoulders start shaking, her left hand raising to cover her mouth.

She's sobbing.

"Odette." I say carefully.

She turns around, walking into me. I wrap my arms around her and she fists my muscle tank in her hands. I rub her back, feeling extremely guilty.

She pulls away then, wiping her eyes.

There's a fire in her eyes that I only see when she's with Lucia.

She wipes her eyes again and turns to the bike, getting on. She puts the kickstand up and revs the engine.

It roars loudly, and she goes flying down the driveway, yanking back on the handlebars until the bike lifts onto the back tire. She slams it back on the ground and bullets up and down the street before gunning it back to the driveway and coming to a halt.

She leaves the bike on idle and walks into the house.

When she comes back, she's wearing black skinny jeans, her black combat boots, the shirt that says Coke adds life to me, and her black leather jacket. She walks over to the shelves and grabs her old helmet.

There's scratches all over it, but she's never gotten another helmet before. That helmet has protected her from so many things. She was wearing it when Lucia exploded.

"I'm going to call her Lucia Two." She decides, a giant smile on her face. "I'll be back in time for dinner."

She puts the helmet on and gets back on the bike, flying out of the driveway and out of sight.

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