"Your dad was good with his hands."
Caleb looked down at the bicycle.
"He used to fix my toys."
"I believe that."
"Sometimes he let me help."
Mason smiled.
"That's how you learn."
Caleb tightened a bolt.
Then he asked, "Would Dad have liked the Iron Harbor Riders?"
Mason laughed.
"Your father would have complained about our noise."
"That's what Mom says."
"He would have complained about Bear's cooking too."
Bear, who was standing nearby, looked offended.
"My cooking is excellent."
Mason glanced at Caleb.
"Do not believe that."
Caleb laughed.
Mason tightened the final bolt.
"There."
Caleb examined the bicycle.
"It looks new."
"It isn't."
"But it works."
"That's what matters."
Caleb looked at him.
"Like Scout?"
Mason nodded.
"Exactly like Scout."
Caleb picked up the teddy bear from the workbench.
He examined the repaired ear.
Then he held it against his chest.
"Do you think Dad knew this would happen?"
Mason wiped his hands.
"I don't know."
"But he put the letter inside."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Mason thought carefully.
"Maybe he wanted to leave a path for us to find each other."
Caleb looked at the bear.
"Even if he wasn't here?"
"Even if he wasn't here."
The boy considered this.
Then he asked, "Do you think people can still help each other after they die?"
Mason looked toward the photograph hanging above the workshop.
It showed two young boys standing beside a brick building.
One held a teddy bear.
The other looked as though he had just been told to stop making trouble.
Mason smiled.
"I think people can leave behind things that keep helping long after they're gone."
Caleb nodded.
Then he climbed onto his repaired bicycle.
Mason held the back of the seat.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
"Look ahead."
Caleb began pedaling.
Mason ran beside him, holding the seat until the boy found his balance.
Then he let go.
Caleb continued down the driveway.
For three seconds, he rode alone.
Then he looked back.
"UNCLE MACE!"
Mason raised a hand.
"Keep looking ahead!"
Caleb laughed.
He rode another few feet before turning the bicycle toward the clubhouse.
Bear applauded loudly.
Luis whistled.
Denise smiled from the doorway.
Hannah watched from the steps.
And Mason stood in the sunlight, looking at a child who had once been willing to surrender his only possession to feed his mother.
Now that child was riding a bicycle surrounded by people who would not let him face the world alone.
Mason felt something loosen inside his chest.
Not all the grief.
Not all the guilt.
But enough.
He looked toward the photograph again.
"He's doing all right, Owen," he whispered.
Then Caleb came racing back.
"Again!"
Mason laughed.
"Again."
The first part of the investigation was eventually completed.
Robert prepared a detailed report explaining what the available records showed, what remained uncertain, and which decisions appeared to have prevented contact between the brothers.
The report did not claim that every individual involved had acted maliciously.
Some had followed the policies of their time.
Some had made judgments based on incomplete information.
Others had failed to communicate important facts.
But the result was clear.
Two children had been separated, and their attempts to reconnect had not been handled with the care they deserved.
Mason read the report once.
Then he read it again.
He did not want revenge.
He wanted the truth recorded accurately.
He wanted other families to have a better chance than he and Owen had been given.
With Hannah's agreement, Robert sent the report to the appropriate oversight office.
The process would take time.
There would be meetings, questions, and formal reviews.
Mason understood that.
For the first time, however, he was not pursuing the investigation because he believed it might lead him to Owen.
He was pursuing it because Owen had left behind two children who deserved to grow up knowing that their family story had not begun with abandonment.
And because somewhere in the future, another child might ask why a brother had disappeared.
Mason wanted that child to receive an honest answer.
He wanted the adults involved to understand that family connections were not disposable.
He wanted the records to tell the truth.
Most importantly, he wanted the next child who asked for someone they loved to be heard.
One evening, several months after the discovery, Mason received a phone call from an unfamiliar number.
He answered.
"Reed."
A woman's voice responded.
"Mr. Mason Reed?"
"Yes."
"My name is Evelyn Carter. I was Daniel's adoptive mother."
Mason became still.
He had heard the name before.
Hannah had mentioned Daniel's adoptive parents several times, but Mason had never spoken with them directly.