Chapter 5 - The Renovation of the Heart
The next morning, Ethan arrived at Oak Street at 7:00 AM.
He wasn't wearing a suit. He wore a faded pair of jeans, a grey cotton T-shirt, and work boots he hadn't touched since he built a wooden deck for Claire seven years ago. In the back of his SUV were three large boxes from a local hardware and garden supply store.
When Rosa opened the door, her eyes widened in surprise. "Ethan? What are you doing here so early?"
"I'm reporting for work," Ethan said simply.
Behind Rosa, Noah and Lily were sitting at the kitchen table eating oatmeal. Noah looked up, his spoon hovering near his mouth, his eyes cautious.
Ethan walked into the kitchen, setting a large wooden crate on the floor. Inside were wooden birdhouse kits, bags of soil, small gardening tools, and six different types of vegetable seeds.
"Noah," Ethan said, dropping to one knee beside his son's chair. "I talked to Rosa yesterday. She said your garden beds here are getting too full."
Noah looked at the crate, then at his father. "Yeah. Rosa's yard is small."
"Well," Ethan said, taking a deep breath, "I was thinking... our backyard at the house has two acres of grass. It's pretty boring. Just grass and hedges. I thought maybe... you could help me tear up the south lawn and build a real greenhouse. A big one. With drip hoses, wooden beds, and a glass roof."
Noah stared at him. The boy's eyes moved from the crate to Ethan’s face, searching for the catch, looking for the lie.
"You... you hate dirt on the lawn," Noah whispered. "You fired the landscaper last year because the mulch spilled on the driveway."
Ethan felt a sting in his heart, but he kept his smile steady. "I was an idiot last year, Noah. I didn't know what was important. I want to build a garden with you. A huge one. And if we spill mulch on the driveway, we'll just sweep it up together."
Noah looked down at his oatmeal, his small hands clenching his spoon tightly. "Are you going to leave again? On an airplane?"
Ethan reached out, gently placing his large hand over Noah's small one.
"No, buddy," Ethan said, his voice thick with emotion. "I canceled my trips. I fired Uncle Daniel. I'm taking a break from the company. I'm going to be home every day. When you wake up, I'll be in the kitchen. When you come home from school, I'll be on the porch. I swear to you on your mother's memory, Noah... I'm never leaving you again."
A thick, heavy tear spilled from Noah's eye, splashing into his bowl of oatmeal. His shoulders began to shake.
For nine weeks—for two years—the eight-year-old boy had held his breath, holding his tiny world together with dirt and silence. And now, hearing his father's promise, the dam broke.
Noah threw his arms around Ethan’s neck, weeping loudly, burying his face into Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan pulled his son into his lap, wrapping his arms around him, rocking him back and forth on the kitchen floor. Lily jumped down from her chair, running over and throwing her arms around both of them, her small giggles mixing with Noah's sobs.
Rosa stood by the stove, wiping a tear from her eye with the corner of her apron, a soft, beautiful smile spreading across her face.
"Can we plant strawberries?" Lily squeaked from beneath Ethan's arm.
May you like
Ethan laughed—a genuine, deep, unburdened laugh that echoed off the butter-yellow walls.
"We can plant ten thousand strawberries, sweetie," Ethan promised, kissing her forehead. "Whatever you want."
