He opened it with reverence. Inside were drawings of bridges, small machines, a treehouse design, and something that looked like a rescue drone with notes written in Noah’s slanted handwriting.
Leo’s eyes widened.
“He drew robots too.”
I looked over his shoulder.
The page showed a small wheeled device with an arm attachment. At the top, Noah had written:
Storm Helper — for flooded roads, fallen branches, and people who can’t get out.
Leo looked at me slowly.
“Mom,” he whispered, “that’s like my science fair project.”
A chill moved over my skin.
Not fear.
Wonder.
Diane pressed a hand to her mouth.
Paul looked away, blinking hard.
Leo traced the drawing without touching the ink.
“I didn’t even know,” he said.
“No,” I whispered. “You didn’t.”
He hugged the notebook to his chest.
“Can I finish it?”
Diane’s face folded with emotion. “Honey, I think Noah would have loved that.”
