Chapter 9 - The Rebuilding of the House
Six months later, the summer sun was shining brightly over Chicago, turning the lake into a sparkling sheet of blue glass.
The grand limestone mansion in Lincoln Park, which had been silent and dark for three years, was filled with the sound of laughter. The heavy, dark furniture had been replaced by light, comfortable pieces, and the grand piano in the parlor was currently being played by a very enthusiastic, if slightly uncoordinated, nine-year-old girl.
Lily Patterson-Vance was attempting to play "Jingle Bells" in the middle of July.
Michael stood in the doorway of the kitchen, wearing a casual linen shirt, a glass of iced tea in his hand. He watched Lily with a smile that reached his eyes, a smile that had not been seen on his face since Sarah’s death.
Eleanor sat at the kitchen island, her nursing textbooks spread out before her. She was finishing her final semester at Northwestern University, her tuition paid for by the David Vance Memorial Scholarship, a foundation Michael had established to fund education for the families of industrial contractors.
She looked up, her honey-colored eyes warm and filled with a peace she had once thought she would never feel again.
"She’s getting better," Eleanor said, gesturing to Lily’s piano playing. "Only three missed notes this time."
"She has her father’s determination," Michael said, sitting down beside her and gently placing his hand over hers. "And her mother’s stubbornness."
"We’re a handful, Mr. Patterson," Eleanor smiled, her fingers wrapping around his.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Michael said.
The reconstruction of Patterson Industries was nearly complete. Under Michael’s new leadership, the company had converted all of its contract positions into full-time, salaried jobs with comprehensive healthcare and pension plans. The Southwest Filtration Plant had been completely overhauled, the faulty valves replaced with state-of-the-art automated safety systems.
But the most important change had happened inside Michael’s own heart.
He had spent thirty years trying to conquer the world, only to realize that the only thing worth conquering was his own loneliness.
"Michael," Eleanor said, her voice turning soft and serious. "The foundation’s board approved the new housing project in Englewood today. The first ten families from the eviction list are moving in next month."
"That’s wonderful, Eleanor," Michael said, kissing her cheek. "Sarah’s foundation is finally doing what it was meant to do. What we were meant to do."
"Mommy! Look!" Lily ran into the kitchen, holding up a drawing she had made. It was a picture of a large, beautiful house with a massive stone fireplace. Standing in front of the house were three people: a little girl, a woman, and a tall man with a cane.
May you like
Above the man's head, Lily had written: Our Dad.
Michael looked at the drawing, his throat tightening, his eyes stinging with tears of pure, overwhelming gratitude. He pulled Lily into his arms, holding her close against his chest as the shadows of his past finally vanished into the warm summer afternoon.
