Chapter 7 - Rebuilding the Broken
Spring arrived at the lake house two months later, bringing blooming wildflowers and warm breezes off Lake Michigan.
The transition had not been instant, but slowly, the fractured pieces of the family were beginning to knit together. Dominic spent every day at the lake house, managing his newly restructured, legitimate shipping corporation entirely through secure video conferences, devoting the rest of his time to his family.
On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, Dominic sat on the wooden deck overlooking the lake, holding a small piece of sandpaper and a block of pine wood.
A few feet away, seven-year-old Ethan stood near the edge of the grass, holding a wooden toy boat with a broken rudder. He kept looking at Dominic, then at his boat, his silver-gray eyes full of hesitation.
"You know," Dominic spoke up softly, not looking directly at the boy so as not to startle him, "if you sand down that bottom edge, it'll cut through the lake water much faster."
Ethan bit his lower lip. "How do you know?"
"I built my first boat right on that dock when I was your age," Dominic said, offering a gentle smile. "My grandfather showed me."
Ethan took a cautious step closer. "My mom said you used to draw pictures before you had to work in big offices."
"She told you that?" Dominic looked up, warmth swelling in his chest. "She was right. I used to paint. But your mom was much better at it than me."
"She doesn't paint anymore," Ethan said quietly, coming to stand next to Dominic's chair. "She sold her brushes to buy my medicine two years ago."
The words hit Dominic like a blow to the chest, but he kept his expression calm and gentle. "Well, if you look in the garage, there's a big wooden box that arrived yesterday. It has brand new brushes, canvasses, and every color of oil paint in the world. I was hoping maybe you and Leo could help me give it to her later."
Ethan’s eyes widened. "Really?"
"Really," Dominic said. He held out a small piece of sandpaper. "Want to fix that rudder now?"
Ethan looked at the sandpaper, then at Dominic's large, rough hands, and finally up into the silver-gray eyes that mirrored his own. Hesitantly, the young boy reached out and took the sandpaper. He sat down on the deck right beside Dominic.
"Okay," Ethan murmured. "Show me how."
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From the kitchen window inside the house, Claire stood watching the scene. She held a cup of coffee, tears welling in her eyes as she saw Dominic carefully guiding Ethan's small hands over the wood. Beside her, little Leo was sitting at the kitchen table, happily munching on fresh strawberries, his face full of color and health.
For the first time in five years, the heavy knot of terror in Claire's stomach completely dissolved.
