Julian beamed. “We came in second.”
“I saw, and you worked so hard.”
He threw his arms around Josh’s neck and snuggled against him, a sight that almost made my heart burst.
This big, quiet, intimidating man had done so much for my little boy. He’d given him an opportunity to grow. One with clear rules and a defined goal. Then he’d been at his side, a trusted partner, the whole way. Rather than chaos, he’d created structure and adventure that allowed Julian to thrive.
Stepping back, I wiped at my tearstained cheeks.
Autism made Julian cautious, made him hide his talents away. But Josh had helped him find something new and build his confidence.
And Josh. He wasn’t performing or seeking recognition. He did it all to help my little boy feel a little less lonely and a little less afraid.
And in the process, he’d sparked to life the emotions I’d been avoiding for a long time.
Once the boyswere dry and Julian assured me he wanted to stay at the festival, we spent the day playing games, eating junk food, and taking silly selfies all over town. Ellie and Maggie took turns with Julian and Simone on the merry-go-round and Chloe bought us all matching maple-leaf-shaped lockets from the artisan jeweler.
Julian conked out the moment his head hit the pillow, and the girls begged to watch a movie, so once they were set up and I ensured that Ellie’s phone was plugged in, I slipped a hoodie over my head.
“I’m going to run down to the barn and help Josh clean up.” When we rolled down the driveway tonight, all the lights in the big barn were on, and after he’d donated so much of his time and equipment, I felt guilty for not helping more. I didn’t have a clue how I could help, but surely there were small tasks that didn’t involve heavy machinery that I could complete.
I owed him so much and didn’t have the words toadequately thank him, so I hoped I could show him by pitching in.
At the front door, I slipped into my fuzzy Crocs, then I headed out into the night.
Josh was dressed in a thick flannel, working inside the barn. The air was chilly and the smell of hay and earth blanketed the air. A single work light cast soft shadows to one side of the space where he was shelving items that looked like tools.
As I stepped into the barn, my shoulders didn’t tense up, and my breathing didn’t quicken. For once I wasn’t bracing, preparing for pain. I didn’t search for exits or excuses. Instead, I was present. All my focus was zeroed in on this moment. On this barn and this man. They demanded nothing from me, and the relief that brought was incredible.
When he looked up, his attention landing on me, my stomach flipped. I opened my mouth and start babbling without thought.
“I wanted to say thank you.”
His brows jumped into his hairline, like the praise had caught him off guard. “For what? I didn’t do anything special.”
I almost laughed. The man didn’t have any idea just how special this day had been.
“You did,” I said, moving closer to him.
He plucked a rag off a shelf and wiped his hands, studying me as I walked toward him.
“It’s hard sometimes. Raising Julian in a world that doesn’t understand or accept him. A world that ignores his gifts.”
He dropped the rag. “Celine?—”
“Wait.” I held up a hand. “Because of, um, past experiences, I am overcautious and overprotective. I wish I could keep him covered in a layer of bubble wrap to keep him from getting hurt. I know how cruel the world can be. And time and again, I’ve witnessed how easily people misunderstand him and mistreat him.”
Tears welled in my eyes. My sweet boy was so gifted and special, and yet some days he walked through this world being told he was anything but.
“What you did for him…” I wiped at my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie. “You made him feel capable. You gave him a complex problem to solve. And you helped him be brave.”
“It was nothing.”
“No,” I said, frustration flowing through me. “It’s not nothing. What you did was actually quite significant. This kid struggles to try new things, and novel situations usually send him spiraling. He struggles to regulate when met with too much sensory input. But today, he grew. So much. He tried new things and worked through problems. And that wouldn’t have been possible without the help of a very special adult. Someone he trusts unconditionally. Someone who really gets him and helps him push through his challenges.”
Josh shuffled closer, taking his hat off and smoothing down his hair, his eyes filled with emotion. “He did the hard part,” he said softly. “I was just there for support.”
He stood close enough that I could feel his warmth, yet he didn’t encroach on my personal space.
