Ethan tried again. His thin legs shook violently.
And then—miraculously—they straightened.
For one breathless second, Ethan stood.
Jonathan felt tears spill down his face.
Ethan took one shaky step. Then another. He fell back into the puddle, laughing triumphantly.
Jonathan rushed to him, embracing him without caring about the mud or the rain. Ethan hugged the rag ball as if it were treasure.
Jonathan looked at the boy in disbelief.
“How did you do that?”
The boy shrugged. “I just asked him to play.”
It sounded too simple. Yet in five minutes of freedom, Ethan had done what two years of structured therapy had not.
The nanny and security guard arrived, flustered.
“He’ll catch a cold!” the nanny cried.
Jonathan lifted a hand. “It’s fine.”
Even he was surprised by his own calm.
Ethan looked at the boy. “Will you come tomorrow?”
The boy hesitated. “I live down there.” He pointed to a row of small houses at the end of the block.
“What’s your name?” Jonathan asked.
“Lucas Reed.”
“Where are your parents?”
“My mom works all day. My dad left.”
Ethan reached out a muddy hand. “Friend.”
Lucas smiled.