“This is Uncle Ryan?” Brandon asked.
“Yes.”
Ryan crouched.
“Well, technically I’m the legendary Uncle Ryan.”
Emma looked at his beard.
“You look like a pirate.”
Ryan laughed so hard he had to sit down.
My children adored him.
Our lives changed too.
Not because Christopher handed me money.
I refused that.
He tried.
Repeatedly.
Instead, I stayed employed.
Then I trained.
Christopher paid for my certification as a professional caregiver.
Later, nursing school.
I moved Brandon and Emma into a safe apartment near their school.
Heat worked.
The refrigerator stayed full.
No buckets caught rainwater.
Christopher continued physical therapy.
The doctors remained cautious.
But sensation gradually returned to one leg.
Then the other.
Two years after I first entered his bedroom, Christopher stood between parallel bars for eleven seconds.
