Chapter 9 - Building on Solid Ground
Spring arrived in New England not with a gentle whisper, but with a riot of green that chased away the long, gray winter.
The two-story craftsman house on Maple Street that Reed had bought in March sat on a half-acre lot surrounded by mature sugar maples and wild lilac bushes. It wasn't a marble palace in Wellesley. The porch floorboards creaked in two spots, and the front door needed a firm push to latch properly, but the kitchen had a large bay window that let in the morning sun, and the backyard was full of soft, thick clover where Owen could run until his legs gave out.
It was a Saturday in late May.
The backyard was full of laughter and the mouth-watering sizzle of burgers on the iron grill.
Evelyn Cross sat in a wicker chair under the shade of an apple tree, a glass of iced tea in her hand, watching the apprentices from the shop play an impromptu game of touch football on the grass. Two of the young mechanics—Marcus and Leo—were chasing Owen around the lawn, pretending to be giant steam shovels while the six-year-old shrieked with absolute delight, darting through their legs like a minnow.
Reed stood by the grill, wearing a simple gray T-shirt, jeans, and an apron that Owen had painted for him at school, covered in messy green handprints.
He flipped a burger with a spatula, his eyes tracking his son across the lawn.
Six months ago, Owen’s eyes had been haunted by the laughter of two hundred cruel strangers. Today, the boy’s laugh was bright, loud, and completely fearless. He was top of his class in reading, he had six neighborhood friends who came over to build tree forts on weekends, and he never, ever asked if he had done something bad again.
"He’s fast," a voice said beside him.
Reed turned.
Camille was standing beside the grill, wearing a pale yellow sundress that caught the light breeze, her dark hair falling loose over her bare shoulders. She was holding a wooden bowl filled with freshly cut watermelon.
"He takes after his grandfather," Reed said, smiling down at her. "Thomas used to outrun the farm dogs when he was seventy."
"I think he takes after his dad," Camille said softly, setting the bowl on the picnic table and stepping close to Reed. She leaned against his side, resting her head lightly against his shoulder. "Stubborn. Resilient. Impossible to break."
Reed wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
The heat of the sun, the smell of sweet grass and charcoal, and the clean scent of jasmine from her hair filled his senses. For years, Reed had believed that peace was something you endured life to earn—a distant, quiet shore you only reached when you were too old and tired to fight.
He hadn't realized that peace could be a living, breathing thing that walked beside you in a yellow dress.
"I talked to the bank this morning," Reed murmured into her hair.
Camille tilted her head up, her dark eyes curious. "And?"
"The expansion loan for the second restoration bay went through," he said, pride warming his voice. "We're bringing in four more kids from the state foster transition program in July. We're building them a dormitory above the shop so they don't have to worry about rent while they get their trade certifications."
Camille’s eyes shone with deep, unreserved admiration.
She reached up, her fingers resting against his jaw, feeling the steady strength of him. "You're building an empire out of second chances, Reed Vance."
"Not an empire," Reed said softly, looking into her eyes. "Just a home. A real one."
Before she could answer, a small body collided with Reed’s shins.
"Daddy! Camille!" Owen shouted, wrapping his arms around Reed’s leg, breathing hard from being chased by the apprentices. "Marcus said that bulldozers can't jump! Tell him they can! Tell him the monster bulldozers jump over hills!"
Reed chuckled, reaching down with one massive hand to scoop Owen up, swinging him into the air until the boy was sitting comfortably on his broad shoulders, his little sneakers resting against Reed’s chest.
"Well, buddy," Reed said seriously, looking up at his son, "regular bulldozers don't jump. But the ones we build? The ones with the heavy-duty suspension? They can jump clear over a mountain."
"See!" Owen yelled triumphantly across the yard at Marcus, waving his green dinosaur in the air. "I told you! My dad knows how to fix anything!"
Marcus threw his hands up in mock defeat, laughing as the other apprentices cheered.
Camille looked up at Reed and Owen, her heart so full she felt as though her chest might burst with it.
She reached up, taking Reed’s hand where it rested against Owen’s knee.
Reed looked down at her. His fingers tightened around hers, strong, calloused, and unbreakable.
May you like
The ghost of the Langham ballroom, the poison of Diane’s voice, the cold marble of the Wellesley house—all of it had burned away into gray ash, leaving behind only this: the honest soil, the open sky, and a love that had been forged in the fire and proven in the light.
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