Rachel had turned them back into boys.
“They’ve been in those chairs for twenty hours a day, Evan,” Rachel said, finally looking back at him. Her eyes weren’t filled with the pity he usually received from staff. They were filled with a fierce, protective fire. “The chairs keep them upright, but they also keep them from feeling the Earth. How can they ever hope to move if they never feel the resistance of the ground?“
“The doctors said…” Evan started, but the words felt hollow.
“The doctors looked at X-rays,” Rachel countered, turning back to the twins. “I looked at them when they thought no one was watching. I saw Aaron trying to kick a ball in his sleep. I saw Simon’s toes twitch when the cat walked by. The nerves are damaged, Evan, they aren’t gone. But the brain is a muscle—if you tell it every day that it’s broken, it eventually believes you.“
For the next hour, Evan was a spectator in a world he didn’t recognize. He watched his sons struggle. He watched them fail. He watched them cry from the sheer exhaustion of moving a body that felt like lead. But every time a tear fell, Rachel didn’t scoop them up and put them back in the “safety” of the chairs. She stayed on the floor with them. She became a tiger, a soldier, a mountain climber. She turned their agony into a game of survival.
“I think… I think that’s enough for today,” Rachel finally said, seeing Aaron’s head begin to droop.
With a tenderness that made Evan’s chest ache, she began the long process of helping them back into their chairs. But as she lifted Aaron, the boy grabbed her sleeve.
“Tomorrow?” Aaron whispered.
“Tomorrow,” Rachel promised, kissing his forehead. “We reach the blue mountain tomorrow.“
Later that evening, after the twins had been bathed and tucked into their specialized beds, Evan found Rachel in the kitchen. She was drinking a glass of water, looking exhausted. The clinical, professional distance Evan usually maintained was gone.
“Where did you learn this?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen island. “You told the agency you were just a housekeeper.“
Rachel set the glass down. “My younger brother had a similar injury. My parents couldn’t afford the ‘specialists.‘ We didn’t have the fancy chairs or the motorized ramps. All we had was the floor and a lot of time. He’s walking with a cane now. He’s a high school teacher in Ohio.“
Evan was silent for a long time. The realization of his own failure was bitter. He had tried to buy a cure, but he had forgotten to provide a reason for his sons to fight.
“I want to double your salary,” Evan said suddenly. “No, triple it. I’ll hire a new housekeeper. You… you are their Lead Therapist now. I’ll buy whatever equipment you need. I’ll fire the medical team—”
“No,” Rachel said firmly.
