Mary Forbes - His Brother's Gift

Something shifted inside Will. He studied the house. Inside was a child vulnerable to the panorama of life. The thought of Christopher huddling in a corner because of some cruel gesture or word had Will pressing his lips together. For the first time he realized how much Savanna knew about the boy and how much he did not.

“Is that how it’s always been, kids teasing him?”

“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.”