Chapter 9 - Healing Beneath the Surface
Six months later, the spring sun was warm over the rolling hills of Kansas.
At our family estate outside Kansas City, the air smelled of freshly cut grass and blooming lilacs. On the wide wooden porch, Wyatt sat in a comfortable armchair, his right leg resting on an ottoman. A sleek carbon-fiber cane leaned against the armrest.
He was healing. The orthopedic surgeons had performed miracles reconstructing his knee, and while he would always carry a slight limp, physical therapy had restored his strength and mobility.
More importantly, the haunted, hollow look in his eyes was gone.
I walked out onto the porch carrying two mugs of steaming black coffee, handing one to my son.
“Thanks, Dad,” Wyatt said, taking a sip and smiling warmly.
“How’s the knee holding up?” I asked, leaning against the wooden railing and looking out over the endless green pastures where several Heartland semi-trucks hummed quietly along the private access road.
“Dr. Althaus says the graft is fusing ahead of schedule,” Wyatt replied, shaking his head with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m actually walking without the cane around the house now. Though I think I’ll keep it just for dramatic effect when people ask what happened.”
I laughed, taking a sip of my coffee. “Good. Humor is the best sign of recovery.”
Wyatt turned his mug in his hands, his expression turning thoughtful. He looked at me, really looked at me, the way a son looks at a father he is rediscovering for the first time.
“Dad... I still can't believe it. All those years you lived in that small apartment in Springfield. Drove that old beat-up pickup. People thought you were just a retired truck driver barely making ends meet.”
“People see what they want to see, Wyatt,” I said quietly. “Money is a very loud megaphone. It attracts the wrong kind of people—people who love the wallet, not the man. I wanted you to build your life based on who you were, not whose son you were.”
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“Well,” Wyatt smiled, looking down at his leg, then back up at me. “Lesson learned. Next time I pick a partner, I’m bringing her by for a background check with Marcus Vance first.”
“That,” I grinned, “is probably the smartest business decision you’ve made all year.”
