His son—his delicate, medically fragile, long-struggling son—stood in the reflection pool.
Standing.
Holding blue crutches.
Water swirling around his chubby legs. Determination etched into his tiny brow.
And laughing.
Maria, the nanny, knelt at the pool’s edge, arms open wide, smiling as if witnessing the sunrise for the first time.
Jason staggered forward, hands flying to his head. “What—what is happening?”
Maria gasped softly when she noticed him, but Ethan didn’t. The little boy simply looked up, face bright and wet and glowing.
“Daddy! Look! I’m walking!”
Jason’s knees nearly buckled.
He stepped closer, voice cracking. “Ethan… how? When? Who—”
“I practiced!” the boy squealed. “Maria helped me. Water makes me brave!”
Jason’s eyes burned. Brave wasn’t even close to describing what he saw. Ethan lifted one foot, wobbling, water splashing lightly. Maria steadied him with a hand under his elbow.
