Toby asked if the rear brake was squeaking.

Jonah said only when it rained.

They spoke about the machine as if it were the most important object in the world.

For a few minutes, there was no hospital, no frightening rescue, no deception.

Just two children pleased that something broken had been made useful again.

Then Toby caught my eye and his smile faltered.

I nodded toward Denise’s photograph.

“You should be proud of that,” I told him.