Mara’s face went completely still.
She reached toward it.
Then stopped before touching it.
“Where did she get that?”
Eli looked confused.
“Get what?”
“The moth.”
“She made it.”
The yard seemed suddenly very far away.
Mara stared at that tiny brass insect as a memory nearly two decades old opened inside her.
A cramped garage.
Two young women working beneath a hanging fluorescent lamp.
Metal filings covering the floor.
The smell of oil.
A nineteen-year-old girl laughing while soldering a brass moth onto a homemade keychain.
Mara heard her voice as clearly as if she were standing nearby.
Everybody uses skulls and flames. Moths are better. They survive in the dark.
Mara had not heard that voice in eighteen years.
She looked at Eli.
“Did your grandmother ever use another name?”
He shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“Did she have a middle name?”
“Evelyn, I think.”
Mara stood so suddenly that Eli stepped backward.
One of the senior riders, Curtis Hale, noticed the change in her face.
“Mara?”
She ignored him.
“Where does your mother live?”
Eli became nervous.
“Why?”
Mara pointed toward the miniature motorcycle.
“Because I think your grandmother was my sister.”
No one said anything.
Eli stared at her.
“Your sister?”
Mara nodded slowly.
“Her name was Claire Evelyn Vale.”
Eli looked at the model.
Then back at Mara.
“Grandma never said she had a sister.”
“I know.”
There was pain in Mara’s voice now.
“That’s the part I don’t understand.”
Twenty minutes later, six motorcycles and Mara’s old pickup truck turned onto a narrow residential street on the north side of town.
Eli sat in the passenger seat clutching the miniature motorcycle.
“You don’t have to be scared,” Mara told him.
“I’m not.”
“You’ve checked the mirror twelve times.”
Eli stopped looking behind them.
“I’m a little scared.”
“That’s more believable.”
He glanced at her.
“Are those people following us?”
Mara looked in the mirror at the motorcycles behind them.
“They’re my family.”
Eli frowned.
“But they’re not related to you.”
Mara smiled sadly.
“Family gets complicated.”
The house was easy to find.
It was a narrow two-story rental with cracked steps and a porch railing that had been repaired with mismatched wood.
A woman was standing outside before Mara had completely stopped the truck.
She looked terrified.
“Eli!”
The boy jumped out.
“Mom—”
“What were you thinking?”
She rushed down the steps and grabbed him by both shoulders.
“I’ve been looking everywhere!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You cannot disappear like that!”
“I was trying to help.”
His mother finally noticed the motorcycles.
Her anger disappeared.
She pulled Eli behind her.
Mara climbed out slowly, keeping her hands visible.
“You must be Leah.”
The woman’s face changed.
“How do you know my name?”
“My name is Mara Vale.”
Leah went pale.
For a moment, Mara knew.
There was no doubt anymore.
Claire had told her daughter about the family she’d left behind.
Leah looked toward the tiny motorcycle.
“You took that?”
Eli’s head dropped.
“I was going to sell it.”
“You what?”
“We need money.”
Leah closed her eyes.
“Eli…”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
She pulled him into her arms.
“I don’t care about the rent more than I care about you.”
Then she looked at Mara.
“What happened at the clubhouse?”
“He showed us the motorcycle.”
Leah’s jaw tightened.
“And you recognized it.”
“The moth.”
Leah nodded.
Mara took a slow breath.
“Why didn’t Claire ever contact me?”
Leah looked toward the house.
“Come inside.”
The living room was small and almost painfully neat.
A box labeled KITCHEN stood beside the sofa.
Another labeled ELI’S BOOKS sat near the stairs.
They were already packing.
Mara noticed.
She didn’t mention it.
Eli placed the miniature motorcycle on the coffee table.
Leah sat opposite Mara.
For several seconds neither woman spoke.
Then Leah said:
“My mother wanted to call you hundreds of times.”
“She had eighteen years.”
“I know.”
“What happened?”
Leah rubbed her hands together.
“She told me pieces of the story when I was older. Never everything.”
Mara waited.
Leah continued.
“She said something happened at your old clubhouse.”
Mara’s expression hardened.
“There was a fire.”
“I know.”
“Three motorcycles were destroyed. One rider nearly died. Twenty thousand dollars disappeared from the club safe that same night.”
Leah nodded.
“And everyone blamed my mother.”
“Because the police found her fingerprints on the safe.”
“She worked on the safe two days earlier.”
Mara frowned.
“What?”
“The lock was broken. She repaired it.”
Mara leaned forward.
“Nobody told us that.”
“Maybe someone didn’t want you to know.”
Silence filled the room.