The boy had a thin frame and messy hair with a faded orange T-shirt that hung loosely over his shoulders. He wasn’t holding a sign or making a request, but was simply watching with a look of deep understanding.
Maxwell reached for the door handle to leave, but the boy stepped forward and raised his hand politely. “Sir, could I speak with you for a moment?” the boy asked.
Maxwell lowered the window slightly and said he didn’t have much time. The boy glanced at Penelope’s feet and spoke calmly, “I can help her and I can make her walk again.”
Maxwell almost laughed because after years of specialists and therapy, this child was offering the impossible. “That is not something you joke about, so what are you trying to do here?” Maxwell asked firmly.
“I am not joking, sir, as my grandmother taught me everything,” the boy replied with quiet confidence. “If it doesn’t work I will leave, but if it does, she will walk,” he added.
Penelope leaned forward and asked her father if the boy could try. Maxwell hesitated because for the first time in a long time, he felt a flicker of hope surfacing inside him.