Mary Forbes - His Brother's Gift

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.”

Valerie’s head turned. “Of course, Will,” she murmured. “Follow me.” She led him down a tiny hallway to another door, one he’d gone through more than once as a student and not always for praise. “Mr. Germaine, Will’s here to see you.” She gave him a hesitant smile, then bustled back to her desk.

Will nodded to the principal, “Harry,” and shook the teacher’s hand. “Ms. Murphy.” The woman looked to be in her early twenties. He’d bet his helicopter that Starlight Elementary was her first teaching position. A neophyte in the business of education. And kids with Asperger’s Syndrome.

Behind the desk, the man Will had flown up the Copper River for fly-fishing the past four summers gestured to the empty chair beside Ms. Murphy. “Thanks for coming, Will. Penny, here, wanted to discuss some possibilities for your nephew next year. Since she teaches a split fifth-sixth grade, he’ll be in her class again come September. Penny, why don’t you explain your concerns?”

The woman studied a notebook in her lap. “As you know, Memorial Day weekend and the end of the school term is only seven weeks away, Mr. Rubens. While Ms. Stowe has agreed to volunteer in class with Christopher for the interim, she’s made it clear she won’t be here in the fall.”

Oddly, hearing the information from this girl-teacher made it more real than hearing it from Savanna. Will’s gut clenched.

“Therefore, Mr. Germaine and I recommend Chris be placed in a specialized program in September.”

“Specialized program?”

“A special needs class. There’s a very good one in Palmer.”

Will’s heart pounded. They wanted Christopher to travel sixty miles to attend a class separate from his peers? The idea did not sit right with Will. Years ago, educators like Ms. Murphy had singled him out because he’d been three grades ahead in math. The geek in elementary school.

The daredevil in high school.

“Has he been in a special class before?” he asked calmly.

“Well, according to Ms. Stowe, no. But—”

“Then he’s not going in one now.”

“Mr. Rubens—”

“Will,” Harry began.

“No,” Will said, forcing his breathing to level. “I want Chris staying here , with the other kids. I don’t care where you get the help, but he’s not going into a class that’ll make him feel more different than he is.”

“Mr. Rubens.” Ms. Murphy clenched her hands on top of her notebook. “I know Christopher has been in class only a week and I’m not completely familiar with his behaviors, but I’ve read that autistic children can be highly agitated if…if things don’t go their way.” Her knuckles paled with pressure. Will almost felt sorry for her. “They’re also prone to being very focused.”