“I do,” Harold said.

“I could show you.”

“If you want to learn.”

David looked at Harold for a long time.

The silence was filled only by the sound of the rain and the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen across the yard.

“I don’t want to fail,” David whispered.

A single tear ran down his cheek, cutting a clean path through the dust on his face.

“You aren’t failing, David,” I said.

I stepped forward and put my arms around him.

This time, his shoulders shook, and he let his head fall against my shoulder.

He felt so much like the boy he used to be, the boy who used to cry when he fell off his bicycle in the driveway.

“I miss him, Mom,” David sobbed.

“I miss him so much.”

“I know, sweetheart,” I said, holding him tight. “I miss him too.”

Rachel came over and wrapped her arms around both of us.

We stood there in the center of the cold workshop, surrounded by Arthur’s things, holding each other.

Harold stepped back toward the door, giving us our privacy, but he didn’t leave.