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The doctor stood and smiled down at Sammy. “Cute little guy. You can see the people in the front office to schedule his next appointment.”
As the doctor left the exam room, Sammy lifted his arms, and Jack knelt to pick him up and held him close.
Autism.
The diagnosis didn’t shock him—he’d had suspicions—but the reality of figuring out a coping strategy was hitting him hard.
Two hours later, back at their new home at Redemption Ranch, Jack had just gotten Sammy down for a nap when the sound of a loud, mufflerless car broke the mountain silence. He hurried to close Sammy’s window, glanced back at the crib to make sure his son was still sleeping and then looked outside.
From this angle, all he could see was a tangle of red curls emerging from a rusty subcompact.
Arianna. He’d heard she was in town.
He took another deep breath before double-timing it down the steps to anticipate his former sister-in-law’s loud knock on the door. Once Sammy was asleep, you didn’t want to repeat the complicated process that had made it happen.
He opened the door just as Arianna was lifting her hand to knock. Under her other arm, she held a giant painting, done in her trademark primitive style.
“When I heard you’d moved, I wanted to bring a housewarming gift,” she said. “And a treat for Sammy. Sorry I didn’t call first. Is this a bad time?”
“I just got him down,” Jack said. He half felt like closing the door in Arianna’s face, but he couldn’t. She was his son’s aunt after all, even if her chronic disorganization and flamboyance had driven his wife crazy, causing some disturbing family fights. Arianna was way out of his comfort zone. “Come on in,” he said. “What are you doing in Colorado?”
She waved a hand. “I’m in town visiting family. Thinking about moving back to the area. Penny had mentioned she might do some art therapy with the vets, so I came up to try to sell myself.”
“Out of a job again?” he asked as he carried the canvas she’d brought to the middle of the living room. “Pretty,” he added, gesturing at the wild yellow painting.
“Jack!” She blew out a sigh he could hear from behind him and then flopped down onto the couch. “Yeah. I’m out of a job. How’d you know?”
He shrugged and sat on the big chair catty-corner to the couch. “Just a guess.” He let his head rest against the back of the chair.
“You look awful,” she said with her usual blunt honesty. “What’s going on?”
He looked at her sideways without lifting his head. “Sammy and I visited the doctor today,” he said.
She sat up straighter. “Bad news?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” He kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the ottoman. “We got a diagnosis I was hoping we wouldn’t get.”
“Oh no!” The panic in her voice was real. “Is he going to be okay? What’s wrong?”
Her concern brought him upright, and he leaned forward, waving a hand to calm her. “He’s fine, he’s going to be just fine. It’s not some horrible disease.”
“Tell me!”
“It’s autism.”
She sucked in a breath, looked up at the ceiling. He thought she was looking in the direction of Sammy’s room. Maybe even praying—she was a fairly new Christian, from what his wife had said only weeks before she’d died.
But when Arianna looked back at him, he realized her eyes were glittering with tears she was trying not to let fall.
“Hey,” he said, moved by her concern. Everyone in town liked him and Sammy just fine, but there was nobody who felt the intensity of this diagnosis like he did. Or so he’d thought. “He’ll be okay. It’s just...I have to figure out how to cope, make some new plans.”
“I’m sure.” She drew in a couple of deep breaths and looked out the window. He wondered if the view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains would calm her, like it did him.
“He’ll be okay,” he repeated. “There’s so much help available these days.”
“You don’t sound that surprised.” She studied him, head cocked to one side, eyes confused.
“I... No.” He looked at her. “I kind of knew.”
She frowned. “I should have guessed. I’ve done art therapy with kids who had the condition a fair amount, and now that you mention it...he does seem kinda like those kids. Although he’s his own sweet, wonderful self,” she added fiercely. “If he’s going to grow up a little different from neurotypical kids, that’s okay. I’ll still love him just as much.”
“I will, too,” Jack said mildly, surprised at her vehemence. But on the few occasions she’d spent time with him and Sammy, she’d been an enthusiastic aunt. More enthusiastic about Sammy, when it came to it, than her sister, Chloe, his wife, had been. “The problem is that I have to hire a nanny, and there aren’t many candidates in Esperanza Springs.”
“I could do it,” she said.
Jack stared at her. “You?” He couldn’t keep the surprise and doubt out of his voice.
“Just until you find somebody permanent,” she amended quickly. “I mean, no way could I do that long term, of course, but I’d like to help if you’re in a spot.”
“Wow, thanks, Arianna, but...” He trailed off.
How to tell Arianna that she looked too much like her sister? That she was too disorganized? That her liveliness and fun were a direct contrast to his own staid, boring life...and that they disturbed him?
She leaned forward, one eyebrow raised, a long leg crossed over the other. “What, Jack? Go ahead, say it.”
“It’s just...I guess I was thinking of a Mary Poppins type,” he said, trying to make a joke of it. “You know, laced up and experienced and efficient.”
“Sure. You’re right, of course.” She sighed and stood up. “I’m nobody’s idea of a good employee apparently. But I’m here to help if you need me.”
He felt like a heel as he followed her to the door, unable to keep his eyes off her chaotic, shining curls. “I appreciate your coming by and bringing the gift,” he said, although truthfully, he had no idea where he’d put the giant sunflower. It didn’t exactly match the couch. “Stop back and see Sammy anytime.”
That comment made her whole form brighten, and she turned to him. “Thanks, I will. I miss seeing the little guy. I need a Sammy hug.”
It occurred to him to wonder why she needed a hug, but that wasn’t his business. He opened the door for her and held it while she walked out, the scent of musky roses tickling his nose.
Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to get involved with a woman like Arianna, colorful and warm and relaxed. But he always stifled the notion. He realized, almost instantly, that it shouldn’t and wouldn’t happen.
Love and marriage weren’t about fun; they were about sacrifice and responsibility and hard work.
And getting drawn to Arianna made his face heat and his stomach churn with guilt, because of Chloe and all her suspicions. She’d died fourteen months ago, but her angry accusations still rang in his ears.
Anyway, and fortunately, no woman like Arianna would be attracted to a methodical, scientific nerd like him.
One minute later, his business phone buzzed, and five minutes after that, he was trying to figure out how to get someone to come watch Sammy while he drove to one of the neighboring ranches to help with a cow that was suffering from a dangerous case of bloat.
He’d moved from town up to Redemption Ranch because he’d seen how happy the wide-open spaces made Sammy. Made him, too, really. The fact that he believed in the ranch’s mission as a haven for struggling veterans and senior dogs was a factor, too. Living here, he could serve as the ranch’s on-site veterinarian, which was a needed role and one he relished.
On the downside, moving up here meant he was thirty minutes away from his normal babysitters, and they had both just refused to come at this short notice. He hated to impose by asking Penny, the ranch owner, or Willie, a Vietnam veteran and permanent resident of the ranch.
You could just ask Arianna.
The thought came to him, and before he could second-guess himself, he was out the door. Arianna was walking back toward her car from Penny’s house. “She’s not home,” she called in explanation.
“Could you stay a couple of hours with Sammy now?” he asked, holding up his phone. “Vet emergency.”
Her face lit up like he’d offered her the world. “Of course! I’d love to!”
He beckoned her in and showed her the laminated instruction sheets he’d made for Sammy’s care. A little ridiculous, but Sammy was particular.
Now Jack knew at least a part of the reason why.
A smile tugged at the corner of Arianna’s mouth. “It’ll all be okay, Jack, really,” she said. “I know Sammy, and I’ve worked with autistic kids before. Go help your...steer or whatever. We’ll be fine.”
* * *
Three hours later, Arianna patted Sammy’s back as he bounced a bedraggled blue-and-white-checked bear. Whew. She’d finally found the toy he needed, and for the moment, he was content.
She, on the other hand, was anything but. Getting to take care of Sammy was sweet torture. She loved him with all her being, and Chloe had never let her be alone with him. She leaned forward and kissed the sweaty top of his head as he pushed his stuffed bear back and forth, humming tunelessly.
He glanced back at her as if slightly surprised but didn’t reject the contact. Good. She knew that some kids on the spectrum resisted physical touch, but Sammy didn’t seem to be in that category.
She looked around the living room, noting the bare walls, the end tables devoid of decoration, the shortage of pillows on the couch. Of course, Jack had just moved in. He hadn’t had time to add the small touches that made a house a home.
Would he ever? Was he the kind of man who could do that, could be both mom and dad?
Oh, how she’d like to stay nearby and care for Sammy. But the job situation in the small ranching town of Esperanza Springs was bleak. At most, she might be able to cobble together some part-time gigs, but to support herself...not likely.
She’d find work aplenty in a bigger city, where her education would be valued and her references—which were actually stellar—could help her to get a job.
But she liked Esperanza Springs, had spent a lot of time here as a kid and young adult. Now, with her parents living in Europe and her sister gone, Sammy, plus the aunt and uncle she was staying with, were the only family she had.
And she was the only one who knew the truth about him.
The sound of a vehicle pulling in outside, the slam of a car door, made her jerk to attention. Was Jack back already?
Sammy held his bear to his chest and stared impassively at the door.
It opened.
It was Jack. And his handsome face went from gladness to amazed frustration as he looked around the living room.
Arianna looked around, too, wondering what his expression meant. As she took in the overturned basket of toys, the three sippy cups she’d tried until she’d found the one Sammy would accept, the box of diapers she’d brought down from Sammy’s room and not found time to take back up, she realized what was bothering him.
“I meant to clean up,” she said. Why was she so messy? When was she ever going to get organized? Chloe, thin and disciplined and neat, would never have let her house get into such disarray.
Of course, Chloe would never have let her care for Sammy at all.
“It’s okay.” He walked over to Sammy. He knelt beside the boy, picked him up and swung him high.
Sammy struggled to get down, and Jack let him. Then he sat and rubbed circles on his back.
Sammy went back to his bear, gently bouncing it.
“Up, down. Up, down.” Arianna said the words in rhythm with the bear’s bounces and watched Sammy for any recognition of the words.
“He doesn’t talk,” Jack said, his voice bleak. “I’ve done some reading, listened to some podcasts on autism. I guess that’s part of it.”
“It’s probably a delay, right? Not a life sentence.”
“I hope.”
“When he heard your car, he sat there looking at the door until you came in. And when he wanted water instead of juice, he, um, persisted until I understood. That’s all communication.” If Jack got discouraged, gave up on Sammy, she couldn’t handle it.
“Thanks, Arianna.” He gave her a brief, haggard smile. “And thanks for staying with him on no notice. It was kind of you.” He gave the messy room another glance.
Oh brother. “Let me go clean up the kitchen,” she said. “You stay here with Sammy.”
“No, it’s fine.” Jack stood and followed her. “He plays well by himself.”
She hurried in and knelt by the overturned trash can, stuffing garbage back into the container. When she looked up, Jack had stopped at the doorway, looking stunned.
“I’ll clean it up!” She grabbed paper towels to wipe up the floor where the garbage had spilled, then rinsed her hands and started putting away beverage containers.
“Arianna.” His hand on her shoulder felt big and warm and gentle. She sucked in a breath and went still.
He pulled his hand away. “It’s okay. I can do this.”
“No.” She spun back toward the cracker-scattered counter to hide her discomfort, started brushing crackers and crumbs into the sink. “I made the mess. It’s only fair I clean it up. See, especially for kids with disabilities, low blood sugar is the enemy. But you have all these special requirements—” she gestured toward the laminated sheets “—so it took a little longer.”
“There’s leftover chicken and rice in the fridge. You could have served him that.”
“I didn’t see it.” But another, more practical person—like Chloe—would have looked harder.
“Look,” he said, “I appreciate what you’ve done, more than you know. But right now, I’ll be fine.”
You didn’t have to be a genius to read the subtext. I want to be alone with my son.
“Of course.” She sidled past him out to the living room and found her purse. She knelt down by Sammy, swallowing hard. “Good to hang with you, little man,” she whispered.
Then she went to the door, where Jack stood, no doubt impatient for her to go. “See ya,” she said, aiming for breezy.
He tilted his head to one side. “You okay?”
She nodded quickly, forced a smile.
“Thanks again. Stay in touch.”
Stay in touch. The same thing you’d say to a friend you encountered after some time away, a friend you really didn’t much want to see again.
