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“No. Honduran children seem kinder than North American kids. Probably because in the Third World they already have so little, differences are not as evident.”
“I’ll make sure no one teases him.”
A sad smile. “You won’t be with him every minute of every day, Will. There are going to be times his behavior will draw stares. The way he walks. His humming.”
Flapping his hands. Repeating sentences and words. Will moved down the path a short way, thinking hard on all she had said. What training did he have to handle a kid with differences? With restrictions? None. Maybe he should let the boy go back to the Lower 48, live with Savanna.
Through the window of the house, he saw Christopher sitting at the table, probably working that pocket toy or poring over his maps. An isolated little kid who had Dennis’s wheat hair, Elke’s serious face.
Damn it. He had to make this work. For his brother, even for Elke. But more significantly for Christopher.
With a sigh he turned to Savanna. Her spruce-green eyes were determined; his decision made not a whit of difference. Christopher was her focus. If the boy stayed, she would stay. If Will changed his mind, she’d have the kid out of Starlight within the hour.
Her indifference on his behalf bothered Will. He wanted Savanna Stowe to care about what he thought, what he felt. Mostly he wanted her support, and the logic of that made no sense. He lived his life the way he liked, without a woman’s whims or approval.
“Does he like school?” he asked, slamming the door on his emotional analysis.
Amusement sparked her eyes. “Oh, he loves school. He just wishes the other kids weren’t there.”
Will chuckled. “Did he say that?”
“The first day of every school year. As I’ve said, he has no desire to be with his peers.”
“Because of the teasing.”
“Because of his genetic makeup.”
That stung. “I didn’t give him autism, Savanna.”
“Maybe not.” Elke had fretted over the same possibility. “What I meant is that his condition won’t seem so different or odd once you understand the underlying factors.”
“What causes it?”
“They believe it’s how the brain develops. Specifically, deficits and delays in those areas dealing with social and emotional behavior and reasoning.”
“Delays. You mean he’ll be normal, typical, one day?”
“Like you and me? Not entirely. But he’ll have mastered life skills that will assist him as an adult.” A smile touched her mouth. “It’s believed Einstein, Sir Isaac Newton and Henry Cavendish, the scientist who discovered hydrogen, all had a form of Asperger’s. If that helps.”
It didn’t.
A weak sun peeked through the gray-blue patches, dusting the frosted trees in glitter. For a few moments they stood silent, contemplating the emergence of spring.
Will said, “This isn’t all, is it?”
A head shake. “We’ve barely touched the surface. But with each day I’ll explain more when a particular behavior crops up.”
Will pursed his lips. “Seems he likes maps.”
“You’ll find he’s very possessive about certain items. Like his maps, his knapsack, the sketchbook. He’ll draw trains for hours. But he’s averse to taking direction. Not because he’s belligerent, but because he relates it to negativism. He needs a lot of praise and encouragement.”
“Terrific. So how do I tell him when he’s done something wro—inappropriate?”
“Why don’t we take it one day at a time?”
He was all for that. What she had given him had overloaded his brain.
He studied her while she surveyed their surroundings.
She was small and curvy, with hair that spiraled around the shoulders of her black coat the way forest fires whorled into a night sky. Genetics had given her a linear nose, a little on the long side with tiny nostrils—and well-shaped lips. Kissable if he had an inkling. Which he did not.
On the whole, she matched nothing of what he found appealing in women. Her brows and lashes were auburn, her chin small and narrow. And she was shorter than he preferred. However, her smile was sincere and kind and he wished she’d volunteer it more often.
Suddenly he wondered about her age and how long she’d worked on foreign soil. “How old are you?”
Her head turned slowly, eyes wide and dark. “That’s rude, don’t you think? To ask a woman her age?”
He shrugged. “I figure with you and Elke being best friends you know my age.” Lifting his eyebrows, he cut her a grin. “Fair is fair. And it’s not like we’re interested in each other.”
She regarded him for a moment. “Forty-two.”
“This year?”
“No.” Her eyes flashed; he curbed a laugh.
Forty-three this year. A separation of nine years. He’d already had his thirty-fourth birthday.
“I think,” she said, moving down the path toward the house, “we’re done here.”
“Are you planning to live with Georgia for the duration?”
She hesitated. “I’ll be looking for a place to rent. Georgia is kind enough to have us stay, but I’d prefer not to take advantage.”
Not with a high-maintenance kid. Will nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“I know.” He shifted on his feet. “Thanks for the information about…”
“His name is Christopher.”
Was she for real? “I know that. Look, it may take a few months to adjust my schedule. I’m already booked into June.”
“He doesn’t have a few months, Mr. Rubens, so I suppose it depends on what’s most important to you. Your job or your nephew.”
Damn the woman. “My job,” he said, breathing deep for control, “pays the bills. It’ll keep the boy in clothes and food with a roof over his head and a babysitter at his beck and call—”
“Babysitter?” Two steps and she was back within his space, a compact bundle of tenacity. “Christopher needs someone specialized in working with autistic children, Will. He’ll need a behavior interventionist to help reinforce strategies to curb his anxiety and frustrations, establish boundaries. He may require an SLP. And you’ll need to participate in his IEP. There’s also the respite worker—”
He threw up his hands. “Whoa. Speak English. An IEP and SPL?”
“SLP. Speech language pathologist. An IEP is an individualized educational plan the school requires for his workload.”
“Okay, understood, but a respite worker?”
“As sweet as Christopher is, you’ll need breaks. Respite workers are trained in special needs.”
“And where am I supposed to dig out this nugget of gold?”
“I don’t know. Maybe instead of going dancing or playing pool, spend the time doing research.”
“What? Where the hell do you get this sh—Argh!” He headed down the frozen path. “Elke, right?” Swinging around, he jabbed a finger in Savanna’s direction. “Well, let me tell you something, Ms. Stowe. Her mother ruled the roost in that family, so I told Dennis not to marry the daughter. I also begged him not to leave Alaska. He’d started a fledgling practice right here, did you know that? But he wanted her and she wanted to be rid of Rose. And now they’re dead. Because of her.” The pain of it all had him breathing like a winded sled dog. “And here’s another newsflash. I gave up ‘craziness’—” he dittoed the air with quotation marks and a scowl “—the day Christopher was born. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke and if I play pool, it’s once a month with good, decent folk. And, damn it, yes, I like dancing. You ought to try it sometime. Might loosen that block sitting on your shoulder.”
Turning sharply, he strode for the back gate and alley that led to his cabin. Damn it. Forty-eight hours and the woman had his temper in a knot more times than in ten years.
“Will!”
She rushed after him. He strode on.
“Will, stop a minute. Please.” Her fingers brushed his coat sleeve. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m making assumptions when I shouldn’t. It’s… It’s been a very grueling week, and I know that’s no excuse. I apologize. Can we start over?”
One street over, a diesel engine fired into the morning quiet, and he knew his neighbor Nate Burns, their local flight-service controller, was bound for the airport.
Will took a deep breath. “Are we gonna argue every time something doesn’t go your way?”
“That I can’t promise, but I can give you honesty. If it means Christopher’s rights versus yours, I’ll choose his. Each and every time.”
A heavy moment passed as his eyes held hers. Far in the distance his mind registered her green irises as beautiful with sun-gold dots dappling the outer rims. His gaze dipped to her slightly parted lips emitting a wisp of breath to the frosted air, and he wondered about the degree of warmth he’d feel there if he were to bend down and—
“Here’s the deal,” he said, annoyed because she confused him and had his libido running roughshod over his gray matter. “While you’re in Starlight I’ll respect you’re Christopher’s parental figure. But my free time is none of your business. Clear?”
“Only if—”
“It affects Christopher. It won’t.”
“Yes.”
Again the long look. Again he felt a tickle in his gut. “I’ll see you tonight when I get in.”
He left her as he had last night. Standing among shadows. It wasn’t until he slammed into his house that his words tracked back. I’ll see you. Not, I’ll see Christopher.
Will shook his head. The woman had his insides on a seesaw. One minute he was admiring her mouth, the next he wanted her out of state. He decided to go for a run.
Escaping, Will?
Shut up and get your gear.
Chapter Four
Six days later, Christopher’s teacher phoned and left a message on Will’s answering machine. She wanted to discuss present and future educational goals for his nephew.
Must be the IEP Savanna mentioned, he thought, driving into the school parking lot a half hour after the home-time bell.
A few kids still hung around the yard, playing a game of basketball on a cemented pad. He remembered those days when he’d been twelve, right here, joshing around with his buddies after sitting in a desk for five hours.
Those had been good days. Kind days.
His parents had been alive then, his brother down at Stanford and Aileen…sweet Aileen…had sat on the grass and watched Will and his pals show off, dribbling the ball, tossing it over their shoulders, twirling it on their fingertips, sinking pointers into the ratty net. He’d been the star player then, his sprout of height lending him a five-inch advantage to the rest of the group.
He had laughed in those days. Laughed and sent Aileen all sorts of mischievous grins. And she had held her hand over her mouth, giggled with her friends, but he’d known, clear as a July sky, that he would marry her one day.
God, how naive he’d been then. Twelve years old and already he’d mapped the direction his life would take.
He hadn’t counted on Aileen’s sensitive heart, her need to help the underdog, to travel and teach in disadvantaged areas of the Outside. Like Savanna, and Dennis.
He pushed through the school doors and strode down the hall to the office. The smell of youth, sweaty bodies and chalk dust stung his nose, filtered into his memories. His boots echoed on the tiled floor.
Valerie sat inputting data on a computer. Her son drew silly faces with a blue erasable felt on a dry board next to a filing cabinet.
“Will!” the kid called.
“Hey, Josh.” Will nodded to the woman. “Val.” Her face lit like an ornamental lamp; he looked away.
Josh rushed over. “Whatcha doing here?”
“Got an appointment with Ms. Murphy.”
“Cuza the new boy? I mean your…your nephew?”
Will flicked a look toward Valerie, and shame rose. He should have told Josh about Christopher. In all senses except bloodlines, Josh was his little brother.
But he knew why he’d kept Christopher to himself, why he hadn’t been up-front with Josh, or anyone else for that matter.
Christopher was different.
Oh, hell, admit it, Will. You don’t know what to make of the boy.
Jeez. He wanted to walk out of the school, out of Josh’s life for fear his shame would touch the kid.
Sweat popped from Will’s skin. Could he be any more of an ass? If Savanna knew how he felt…
“Yeah, sport, I’m here because of Christopher.”
“Oh.” A tone of resignation.
“Sorry, pal. I should’ve told you about Chris earlier. I will later, okay?”
Valerie had gone back to typing. As always, she wasn’t getting involved. More loudly than necessary he said, “But right now, I need to speak with his teacher and Mr. Germaine.”
