Chapter 4 - A Different Kind of Home
Three days later,
Sophie was cleared for discharge.
Her color had returned,
and she was currently preoccupied with a stuffed duck Maxwell had bought her.
"He has a name,"
Sophie said,
holding the toy up to Maxwell.
"It’s Quackers."
Maxwell knelt down so he was at her eye level.
"That’s a very good name,
Sophie."
"Are you coming with us?"
the little girl asked,
her gray eyes searching his.
Maxwell looked at Eleanor,
who was busy packing a small bag of hospital supplies.
She didn't look at him.
"I have a place for you to stay,"
Maxwell said.
"Not the mansion.
A penthouse on Beacon Hill.
It’s quiet,
it’s safe,
and it has a view of the park."
"We can't afford that,
Max,"
Eleanor said,
her voice tired.
"It’s already paid for,"
he replied.
"Think of it as back-pay for the child support I didn't know I owed."
Eleanor stopped packing and looked at him.
"I don't want your charity."
"It’s not charity,
Eleanor.
It’s a debt.
Let me pay at least a fraction of it."
She looked at Sophie,
who was still recovering,
and sighed.
"Just until she’s fully healthy.
Then we go back."
Maxwell nodded,
knowing he would do everything in his power to make sure they never went back.
The car was waiting outside,
a black SUV with tinted windows.
As they drove through the streets of Boston,
Maxwell watched Eleanor.
She was looking out the window,
her hand resting protectively on Sophie’s knee.
He realized how much she had changed.
The soft,
dreamy girl he had married was gone.
In her place was a warrior,
forged in the fires of poverty and loneliness.
He wondered if he could ever earn her respect again.
The penthouse was filled with light.
Maxwell had spent the last forty-eight hours making sure it was perfect.
There were toys in the guest room,
a kitchen stocked with organic food,
and the best security system money could buy.
"Wow,"
Sophie whispered as she walked into the living room.
"It’s so big!"
She ran to the floor-to-ceiling windows,
pressing her nose against the glass.
"Look,
Mommy!
The trees look like broccoli!"
Eleanor walked into the center of the room,
looking overwhelmed.
"Why are you doing this,
Max?"
"Because I’m a father,"
he said,
standing behind her.
"And because I still love you."
Eleanor didn't move.
"Love isn't a checkbook,
Max.
Love is being there when the baby has a fever at 3 AM and you have four dollars in your pocket."
"I know,"
he said softly.
"And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to count your dollars again."
"We’ll see,"
she said,
turning away.
But for the first time,
she didn't tell him to leave.
He watched her walk toward Sophie,
May you like
and for a moment,
the penthouse felt like a home.
