Over the next month, Nathan’s home became the center of everyone’s attention.
He lived in a modest white house with blue shutters on a quiet street where the sidewalks cracked around old tree roots. There was a maple tree in the front yard, a porch swing that needed repainting, and a garage that smelled faintly of motor oil and sawdust.
Maya visited twice.
Then again.
A licensing worker inspected cabinets, smoke detectors, bedroom windows, cleaning supplies, and the hot water temperature. Nathan answered questions with nervous honesty. He had no experience parenting. He worked long hours but had already spoken to his employer about a modified schedule. He had one speeding ticket from four years ago. He burned toast often. He knew how to fix almost anything mechanical but admitted he had no idea how to braid hair.
Lily overheard that last part during a supervised home visit.
“I can teach you,” she said.
Nathan looked down at her. “You can?”
She nodded seriously. “But you have to listen.”
“I can listen.”
Owen, from the floor, pushed his wooden truck under a chair. “He also has to learn pancakes.”
“I make pancakes,” Nathan said.
“With blueberries on top?” Owen asked.
Nathan hesitated.
Owen sighed. “We have a lot of work.”
The house visits became small chapters of discovery.
Lily found a box of Evan’s old things in Nathan’s closet—baseball cards, school photos, a science fair ribbon, a postcard from a camping trip. She held each object like a clue.
“Daddy had glasses?” she asked, staring at a photo of twelve-year-old Evan smiling awkwardly with oversized frames.
Nathan smiled. “For one year. He hated them.”
“Why?”
“Said they made him look like a worried owl.”
Lily giggled. “He did look like a worried owl.”
Owen found a dent in the garage wall and demanded its history.
Nathan scratched his jaw. “Your dad threw a tennis ball in here after I told him not to.”
“Daddy was bad?” Owen asked, thrilled.
“He was human,” Nathan said. “And I was mad for about six minutes. Then he fixed it badly, and I was mad again.”
“Where is the bad fixing?”
Nathan pointed to a patch of uneven paint.
Owen touched it with awe. “Daddy made that?”
