Emily stared at the paper.
Daniel continued.
“You will pay the first $630. Then you will work until the remaining balance is covered.”
Noah interrupted.
“I don’t want her money.”
Daniel looked at him.
“This is not about what you want.”
“It’s my guitar.”
“And she is responsible for damaging it.”
Noah shook his head.
“Just throw it away.”
“No.”
“It’ll never be the same.”
“No, it won’t.”
Daniel’s voice softened.
“But broken does not always mean worthless.”
The sentence hung in the kitchen.
Emily started crying again.
Noah pushed back his chair.
“I’m going upstairs.”
Daniel let him go.
For the next week, Noah did not speak to Emily unless necessary.
He stopped playing music completely.
Mr. Callahan called Daniel after Noah missed another rehearsal.
That evening, his father knocked on his bedroom door.
“You dropping out of arts night?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“No guitar.”
“The school has guitars.”
“I don’t want one.”
Daniel sat on the edge of the desk chair.
“Your mother would hate that.”
Noah’s expression hardened.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use Mom to make me play.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“You’re right.”
Noah looked surprised.
His father stood.
“I shouldn’t have said it.”
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think the guitar was the thing making you good.”
Noah looked at him.
Daniel shrugged.
“I think that was you.”
He left.
On Saturday morning, Daniel woke Noah at eight.
“Get dressed.”
“Why?”
“We’re going somewhere.”
“I’m tired.”
“You can sleep when you’re eighty.”
Twenty minutes later, they were in Daniel’s truck.
Noah noticed they were heading toward downtown Columbus.
“Where are we going?”
Daniel did not answer.
They pulled into a small music store Noah had visited once with his mother years earlier.
The sign above the door read Harrison Music & Repair.
Noah’s heart tightened.
Inside, the shop smelled like wood polish, old carpet, and guitar strings.
A gray-haired man behind the counter recognized Daniel.
“You brought him.”
Daniel nodded.
Noah frowned.
The man disappeared into the back room.
When he returned, he carried a black guitar case.
Noah froze.
“Dad.”
Daniel said nothing.
The man placed the case on the counter and opened it.
Inside was a brand-new Fender American acoustic-electric guitar.
Natural spruce top.
Rosewood back.
Dark binding.
Nothing like Rebecca’s old sunburst guitar.
And yet beautiful.
Noah stared at it.
“Dad, no.”
Daniel leaned against the counter.
“Pick it up.”
“No.”
“Noah.”
“This is expensive.”
“Pick it up.”
Noah reached into the case.
The guitar felt almost impossibly clean.
No scratches.
No worn edges.