That Saturday, Adrian took April out with him to do some last-minute Christmas shopping to buy some last-minute presents for her teacher and classmates down at the Riverwalk, and Chandler agreed to meet them there that evening after closing up the garage. Secretly, he was glad to avoid having to go along. Being dragged in and out of crowded stores was not his idea of a good time. Thankfully, Adrian was the opposite of him and found energy in those situations.

It was just him at the shop—both Lexie and Douglas had the weekends off. He did enjoy the occasional day of solitude like this one, where he could just be alone to concentrate on the work at hand. It was like a meditation, and right now, he really needed it. There was just a week until Christmas, and his quest for the Duster had come to a grinding halt. He’d been so stubbornly determined that he would be able to find it, that he hadn’t even considered what he’d do if he couldn’t. The whole thing had really been stressing him out, and the worst part was that he’d been suffering in silence. Lexie knew about his plan, but he couldn’t talk to her about it at work with Adrian there, and he hardly saw her outside of the shop because of how busy things were at home. Also, Lexie had recently started getting back into the dating game, so her free time was occupied. Douglas also knew about the car, but there was no way Chandler would feel comfortable ranting to the old man about his problems. Hell, sometimes he still had a hard time opening up to Adrian about things.

The night before had been the first snow of the season. The garage was located outside of the city, in a more rural area that had been home to large factories a century ago. Now, most of the old warehouses had been either demolished, leaving large plots of open field strewn with old brick, or turned into business and housing development. Next to their garage was one of those open fields, and it was covered in a blanket of fresh snow.

Chandler cleaned the snow off of a Subaru station wagon and pulled it into the garage, putting it up on the jack so that he could get to the oil pan. He’d always been the kind of man who liked working with his hands. Autoshop and woodshop had been the only two classes he excelled in during high school, and in the army, he spent some time working on armored vehicles before being transferred into Adrian’s platoon. He enjoyed the simplicity of being a mechanic, too. At the end of the day, each car was basically the same, with parts that all did pretty much the same thing, working with each other in more or less the same way. He could understand how it all fit together. It was easy. Repeatable. People were less easy, and he was thankful for the connection that he and Adrian shared. Where some might’ve taken Chandler’s stoic and quiet nature as being uncaring, Adrian knew the kind of man he was. He knew his moods and his feelings. They both just got one another.

His cell phone buzzed inside his pocket, and he grabbed a rag off the hood of the car and wiped the grease from his hands. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately, his heart kicking up. He’d been waiting for this call.

“Chandler speaking,” he said.

“Chandler, it’s David. I’ve got news for you. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, I did some deep digging, and found out some pretty crazy shit. The reason why none of the most recent registration info led to anything is because the name it was registered to isn’t even a real person.”

“What does that mean?”

“The name that was used was a fake. But I looked further into the records and found out that the car was purchased by a company.”

“Is that normal?”

“Well, I’ve seen it a couple times. Usually it’s on account of some celebrity buying for his own personal collection, wanting to do it on the down low.”

Chandler sank against the Subaru’s engine compartment. “So the car exists, but it’s owned by some rich guy. Yeah, I can see why this might not be the best news.”

“Yeah. Well, at the very least, I’ve got the name of the company. Wufei Automotive. It’s a Chinese company that makes auto parts. So I did a quick Google search, and found out that the CEO has property in, yeah, you guessed it, New Hampshire. Wolfeboro.”

“Damn, man. You’ve really gone above and beyond for me with this. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Nah, it’s nothing. It’s fun for me, you know? I like collecting intel. Just make sure nobody knows I’m doing this for you.” He laughed. “This is the end of the line, though. I was able to get this guy’s address, Lingtian Pang, through the public record. But finding a way to get in contact with him is up to you.”

“That’s great, man. I’ll figure it out.”

He grabbed a scrap of paper from the workbench and scrawled down the man’s name and address. Then he thanked David a second time before hanging up the phone.

Sure, it was owned by some Chinese millionaire, but Chandler was just amazed that the car actually did still exist. Whether or not this was better than learning it was a piece of scrap sitting in someone’s backyard, he didn’t know. And what were the chances this man would even consider selling the Duster for an amount he could afford? Or selling it at all?

Still, Chandler was determined. This was great news. If there was a chance he could get it, even if it was near impossible, he’d go for it.

He closed the garage doors and locked the shop up before heading into the office to use the computer at Lexie’s desk. He opened up the browser and stared at the screen. He was not a fan of computers, and just could not get the hang of them. Before Adrian, he hadn’t even had a smartphone. Using his index fingers, he pecked in “Wufei Automotive” into the search bar, and clicked the search button.

The company’s website came up, and Chandler stared blankly at the mess of Chinese characters. “Goddammit,” he grumbled, and after thirty minutes of clicking around he managed to find an English page, and on it, a phone number for the company’s U.S. offices. He picked up the office phone and dialed, and was greeted by an automated answering machine that proceeded to give him a history of the company. Chandler cursed and mashed the zero button on the phone. There was a click, a brief ringing, and then he was finally connected to a live operator.

“Wufei Automotive, how may I direct your call?”

“Yeah, can you, uh, put me through to a Mr.—” He paused and glanced down at the piece of scrap paper. “Fuwei Pang?”

“I’m sorry? Who?”

“Fuwei Pang.”

There was a confused pause on the other end of the line. “Um, do you know which department the person you’re trying to reach is in?”

“Christ. What department? Fuwei Pang, he’s the CEO of the company, ain’t he?”

They laughed. “Oh. I’m sorry, sir, I don’t have any way of connecting you to the CEO.”

“Well, could you get me someone who can?”

“There’s no one who can do that here, sir. This is just the U.S. office. We handle the import of product for distribution. Do you have a complaint you need to file? Maybe if you tell me the nature of your call, I can connect you to the appropriate person.”

“No, I just need to know how to get in touch with Mr. Pang.”

“His e-mail is listed on the corporate website, sir. You can try to reach him that way.”

Chandler gritted his teeth. “Alright. Thanks.” He dropped the phone into the receiver. “Shit.”

His experience in the army told him that the only way to get things done was to reach out directly. An e-mail would be filtered out, lost among hundreds, if not thousands, of other e-mails. But how would we be able to reach this guy? Given enough time, maybe he would’ve been able to find a way to be put in touch with him, but there were only a few more days left…

Chandler looked at the piece of paper on the desk. What he did have was the guy’s address—or at least one of his addresses. The question was if he actually lived there. If it was a vacation home, or something like that, the guy might be all the way in China. Chandler would’ve made the drive to Wolfeboro—it was only about two and a half hours away—but there would be no way he could do it without Adrian knowing. There was one final option, and it just so happened to be Chandler’s favorite way of communication.

A hand-written letter.

He finished locking up the shop and quickly drove home. He had a couple hours before he was due to meet Adrian and April at the Riverwalk, and it might be the only chance he had to do it before it was too late.

He was working on faith. Faith that this man would get the letter, and that he would read it. Faith that he would care enough to even respond back. Faith that his words would somehow be enough to move him. Faith that the car was even still in his possession, in New Hampshire. It could’ve been shipped off to China, or somewhere else, years ago. He was moving blind. But he had to try, for his husband. He wrote and re-wrote the letter several times, taking care to explain the significance of the car. In the end, he felt he’d found the right words, but it still didn’t feel like it was enough. He needed something more.

Chandler went to the living room and opened the photo album next to the couch, flipping to the old photograph of Adrian being held by his father next to the gorgeous azure muscle car. Gently, he pulled the photo out from the frame. He turned it around, and was surprised to see that something was written on the back.

“To my son, Adrian,” he read. “Someday, you and I will drive her together. I love you so much. I can’t wait to see you grow. Love, Daddy.”

He smiled, thinking of the stories Adrian told of his dad, and how much he loved the man. Chandler hadn’t had much of a relationship with his parents, so it was always nice to get that vicariously through Adrian. That love was the reason why he was doing this. He wrote his cell phone number and their home address on the bottom of the letter before slipping it and the photograph into an envelope. He knew it would be a huge risk, sending it. Adrian might never forgive him when he discovered the photo was gone. But there a feeling in his gut that told him he needed to include it, and that he would see the photo again. Maybe he was just operating on stubborn hope that would bite him in the ass, but he had to trust his intuition. It’d saved him before.

After sealing it up, he went out to check and see if the mailman had already come by. If he had, he’d drop the letter off in a post box. He couldn't risk it sitting in their mailbox for a whole day.

He opened the box, and found it occupied with the day’s mail. “Damn,” he muttered, pulling the small stack of letters out. He quickly flipped through them. Junk, junk, a Christmas card from April’s school, and a final envelope that was addressed to Adrian. He glanced curiously at the addressee, which was “MWD USDHS” and a Department of Homeland Security stamp. He didn’t think much of it, and brought them inside and tossed them on the table before scooping up the keys to the truck and heading out to Riverwalk.

After thirty minutes of navigating a packed, slush covered parking lot, Chandler headed down the line of shops towards the outdoor ice skating rink that had been set up in the center of the walk. He stopped at a post box and, after a moment’s pause and a quick prayer, slipped the letter inside.

He dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket to insulate them from the cold. Christmas music drifted through the air, and children stomped around in half-melted snow. Back in his tiny hometown, there was nothing this nice, or this festive. It all felt like something out of some perfect Christmas movie, where miracles brought families together just on time, and everyone got exactly what they wished for. Skaters slowly circled around the ice rink, like riders on a merry-go-round, and Chandler looked across the crowd for his husband and daughter.

“Daddy!”

Chandler turned around and caught April as she ran and jumped into his arms.

“Woah, hey, honey! You gave me a shock!”

Adrian made his way up to them, carrying a couple shopping bags. He gave Chandler a kiss. “April has been dying to go skating with you,” he said. “She told me you’ve never done it with her before.”

“Yeah, well. That’s because I can’t skate.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Adrian grinned. “C’mon.”

“Aw, no, no…”

“C’mon, Daddy!” April said, tugging at his arm. “Let’s try it together.”

Adrian gave Chandler’s ass a pat and grabbed his hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”

They rented skates and hobbled out to the ice together. April gingerly placed one foot onto the ice, and then the next, and squealed with laughter as she slowly drifted away from the wall. Adrian expertly maneuvered out, gliding around her in circles. Chandler followed, but the moment he let go of the wall he found himself flat on his ass. Adrian laughed and skated over, holding out his hand.

“You okay there?”

Chandler struggled to his feet, waving his arms around madly to hold his balance. “I got it, I got it.”

“You’ve really never skated before?”

“Never.”

“Well, take hold of my hand. I’ll show you.” Adrian guided the two of them over to April, who already was figuring things out on her own, and took her hand so that he was in the middle.

They moved around the rink slowly, Chandler doing everything he could not to fall. “Lean into it,” Adrian said to him. “There you go.”

“I think I wanna try to go fast,” April said. “I think I can go on my own.”

“You sure?” Adrian asked, and she nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna let you go now.”

He let go of her hand and she glided away, steadily pushing herself forward across the ice. “I’m doing it!” she shouted, waving at them.

“Good job, honey!” Chandler said. “Just be careful!” Then he stumbled and plonked onto his behind.

Adrian laughed and tugged him back up to his feet. “Bend your knees. You look like a damn scarecrow, or something.”

“How’d you get so good at this?” Chandler asked him as they slowly drifted around the rink, hand in hand. Holding hands in public would normally have made Chandler feel a little self-conscious, but to his surprise he felt okay with it now. If people were staring, he didn't care, and it was obvious that neither April nor Adrian did either. Also, he felt like if he were to let go of Adrian’s hand, he’d just fall right back down.

“Mom and Dad used to take me when I was a kid,” he said. “And in high school it was the thing to do. I had my first date ice skating.”

“Papa, how do I stop?” April shouted as she came up behind them.

“You gotta turn,” Adrian said. “Turn your body.”

She couldn't figure it out in time, and ran into Adrian’s legs. He caught her, and she threw her arms around his thigh. “Or like that,” he said.

“I think I’m getting it,” Chandler said as he pushed himself forward, no longer feeling like a stack of bricks in an earthquake. April moved to the middle, taking both of their hands, and the three of them glided steadily around the rink. Chandler glanced over at Adrian and April, and felt a warmth fill up his heart and a fluttering in his stomach. He was so happy to be here with them, to be able to share this moment like this. He was so blessed, and he knew it.

“Daddy, Papa!” April started to squeal. “Look! It’s snowing again!”

There was a murmur of recognition from the rest of the skaters as soft snowflakes began to drift down through the night air, landing gently on their clothing and hair. April tilted her head back to the sky and opened her mouth, letting the fresh snow land on her tongue. Chandler exchanged a quick glance with Adrian, and they both grinned and followed her lead. He felt the snow melt on his tongue and his cheeks, like kisses from the sky.

They finished a few more rotations around the rink before heading out, not wanting to get caught in the inevitable traffic caused by the snowfall. On the way back to the truck, the two of them lifted April up by her hands, swinging her over puddles and piles of slush.

“We should come back and do this again, sometime,” Adrian said. “We can bring Mom. And invite Lexie and Isabelle too. What do you think about that, April? Ice skating with Grandma, Izzy, and Lexie?”

“That would be so much fun!” she agreed.

When they got home, the first thing Chandler did was turn the Christmas tree lights on. “I’m glad the snow made it before Christmas,” he said. “Now it really feels like the season.” He went into the kitchen, and stopped by the counter. “Oh, Adrian?”

“Yeah?” He was getting a fire started in the fireplace.

“You’ve got a letter here. Seems like something official. MWD, something or other. It’s got a Homeland Security logo on it. Want me to open it?”

“Uh, no,” Adrian said. “It’s probably just junk. Security clearance expiring or something. I’ll open it later. Come join me, the fire is going.”

Chandler shrugged and set the letter back down on the counter and went to join Adrian in the living room. April ran out of her room dressed in her pajamas, a stuffed animal in hand, and dove onto the couch, snuggling up to Adrian. Chandler sat down next to her, and slung his arm around Adrian’s shoulder. The three of them sat snugly, staring quietly at the fire as it flickered and crackled in the fireplace.