Sophia stared at him. James, you don't have to. I know I don't have to. His voice didn't leave room for negotiation. I'm telling you how it is.
You and Noah are in my house. That means what happens to you is something I am involved in. That's not charity. That's just how it works. Something broke open in her face.
Not tears, she controlled that. But something behind the eyes, something that had been held rigid for a very long time, loosened by one degree. Okay, she said. Okay. He put Noah in the bouncy seat because the baby was getting heavy and because he needed his hands for a moment.
He pulled out his phone, texted Marcus, "Need Sandra's number. Family law today if possible." Marcus's response came back in four minutes. You okay? And then before James could answer, sending it.
James forwarded the number to Sophia. She looked at her phone and then at him. Today it's Saturday. Call anyway. Leave a message.
Sandra will call back. Sophia nodded. She picked up her phone and then put it down and then picked it up again. And James recognized that hesitation as the particular difficulty of asking for help when you have spent years deciding that asking for help was the same as failing. I'll step out, he said.
Give you the room. He went to the garage. He stood at his workbench and did nothing useful for about 10 minutes, just standing there, letting the shape of the morning settle into something he could work with. David, a man with money and lawyers and some idea that the existence of a biological connection gave him rights over a child he had chosen to abandon. James had dealt with men like that before, not personally, but he had watched it happen in his community often enough to understand exactly how it worked.
The money wasn't about the child. It never was. It was about control. About the inability to accept that a decision they made, a door they closed, could stay closed without their permission. He was not going to let that touch Sophia and Noah while they were in his house.
He recognized that this decision was not a simple one. He recognized it meant something, some commitment of self that went beyond the practical. He stood at his workbench and made it anyway. The way he made most important decisions quietly and without ceremony. When he came back inside, Sophia was off the phone.