It could be a really short ride, she said. Ive never been on a motorcycle before.

He watched Josie walk up to the Harley-Davidson, trace her fingers along the shining chrome and the supple leather. She gripped the handlebars and pretended she was gunning the engine, which made her laugh. Then she looked up at him with those impossibly gentle gray eyes and smiled.

Maybe someday? she said.

God, Josie. I dont know.

She nodded and walked toward him. When she stopped before him and looked up into his face, Rick knew she expected him to embrace her, but he couldnt. He just couldnt do it. Suddenly, he felt alone. Walled in.

Paralyzed by the fear.

So Josie embraced him. She slowly wrapped Rick in her arms, one around his waist and another up high on his back. She just hugged him. She didnt try to talk him into anything or tell him any lies about how she trusted him with her life. She just hugged him tight, and didnt let go.

Eventually, his arms pulled her tighter.

Rick wasnt sure how much time went by, the two of them standing there holding on to each other, the sound of the tractor off in the distance, the friendly tomcat rubbing against his ankle, the rhythm of Josies breath.

But it was enough time for him to reach the still place inside him. It dawned on Rick that he had a woman who cared for him in spite of everything. A woman who was strong enough to hear the truth and loving enough to forgive.

Eventually, Rick raised his hands to Josies soft curls and he stroked her hair. He lowered his lips to the top of her head. Josie, he whispered.

Im right here.

He supposed that was the miracle. She was still there.

If we ever did go for a ride, hypothetically…

Yeah? Josie raised her head and smiled at him.

Wed have to stay on the ranch. I wouldnt feel comfortable taking you on the road.

That sounds fun.

Well, it might not be, Rick said, feeling his agitation escalate again.

We could get miles out in the vineyard and Id ask you to get off and walk back.

Why would you do that?

Because I could freeze. I could decide that I couldnt go another inch.

Lucky for you Ive got a strong pair of legs.

He chuckled, aware of how her optimistic nature soothed him, cut through the nonsense. Everything about you is strong, girl.

So do you want to give it a try with me? Josie grinned at him. Rick knew she was asking for a bike ride but reminding him of their promise to each other.

Suddenly, Teeny appeared in the doorway to the gym and leaned up against the wall. Hed just finished his cardio and was soaked in sweat, and the tender concern on his face meant hed overheard at least part of their conversation. In fact, Rick wasnt one hundred percent certain the wetness on Teenys cheeks was from his workout.

Without a word, Teeny walked over to the shelves on the far wall of the south barn and pulled down an iridescent purple helmet with a visor that Rick had never noticed before.

This ought to fit, he told Josie, tapping her on the shoulder.

Josie whirled around in delight and grabbed the helmet, shoving it down over her curls. Teeny adjusted the chinstrap and gave the top of the helmet a pat.

How do you feel? Teeny asked.

Like a real Harley mama, Josie said, her grin spreading. How do I look?

Teeny shook his head, laughing. You didnt happen to bring any black leather and fringe with you, did you?

She shrugged. Forgot to pack it.

Teeny winked at Rick. The bikes ready to go, man.

But Rick wasnt. It took every ounce of strength he had to stay put, feet planted on the concrete floor, and not run for his life. He didnt think he could do this.

For the first year after the accident, the memory of the crash would loop through his brain dozens of times a day, debilitating him mentally even as he fought to heal physically. The memory was always the same.

The rain on his face, the rush of the drugs and beer in his bloodstream, the womans warm, living body pressed up to his back.

Then the guardrail would appear in the headlight. The bike would lose traction as he tried to make the sharp turn. In that split second he would recognize that hed been going so fast that there was no way out.

The impact. The blackness. The pain. The self-hate.

So what do you think, man? Teeny asked.

Rick stared at him, remembering how one day he simply had to stop wishing he could rewrite history and focus on retraining his mind instead. He would visualize the rain cool on his face, the clarity of his sober mind, his responsible speed, his smooth control around the hairpin turn. Then he would visualize returning Margot safely home.

Only then could Rick begin to believe his life had value, that hed been allowed to live for a reason. Thats when he got squeaky cleaneven going off pain meds. Thats when he set up the foundation, moved to San Francisco, and started his company. Thats when hed begun to live, for the first time.

Rick knew the fear that was trying to strangle him at that very moment wasnt real. It was only another creation of a negative mind, and he would not let it run him.

Lets do it, he said, taking a step toward the Harley.

Are you sure? Josie asked.

Hell, no, Rick said. Lets go before I chicken out.

Des Moines was only 158 miles behind him, and Bennett hadnt planned to stop in Lincoln, Nebraska. It was only mid-morningtoo early for lunch and a couple hundred miles before he would need a fill-up. But the Skylark was acting funny, lurching a bit when he pressed the gas. So he pulled off at the first truck stop/diner complex he saw, appreciating the serendipity of the situation as the neon words MECHANIC ON DUTY flashed against the dreary sky.

The mechanic was a friendly, middle-aged man missing most of his teeth, who informed Bennett that the Buicks fuel pump had seen better days. He told him it would take at least $500paid in advanceand a couple hours to fix. Bennett promptly paid in cash, and the mans eyes widened. The bean soup is the only thing worth ordering up at the diner, the mechanic told him by way of appreciation.

Bennett walked the hundred or so yards between the garage and the sprawling roadside restaurant and convenience shop. On the way through the main double doors, he witnessed what no longer even startled himan unfolding human drama of the most sordid kind. A young couple were insulting each other. She kicked him in the shin. He called her a ho, and left her standing on the sidewalk. He drove off in his car with her screaming after him, informing him he aint shit. Just another day in America.

Bennett went inside and leisurely reviewed the scant offerings on the magazine rack, and selected the most recent issue of /Fortune./ He paid for his purchase and took a window seat in the restaurant. He ordered a cup of coffee, but passed on the highly recommended bean soup.

A thud on the window caused him to look up from a rather tedious article on the newest struggles of credit consortiums. The shin-kicker had just slammed her forehead against the glass. Her eyes were clenched shut, her mouth was open, and her shoulders shook. Bennett didnt hear any sound, so he decided the glass was either soundproof or she was in the midst of a silent scream.

He flipped the magazine page, appreciating the sleekness of the latest Mercedes sedan. The glass shook with a pounding.

Bennett looked up and sighed. The girl on the sidewalk was banging her clenched fists on the window, and everyone in the place could hear her wailing now. He saw the hostess tell the manager to call the police.

Bennett rose from his booth. Shes with me, he told the management. Give me just a moment to calm her down. I assure you the police arent necessary.

By the time he reached the sidewalk, the girl had fallen to her knees and had redirected her fists into the concrete. He touched her shoulder.