Loree Lough - Devoted to Drew

When the dog answered with a breathy woof, Drew’s entire demeanor changed.

“Look, Mom! That dog is smiling!”

The only smile Bianca noticed was Drew’s.

“Can I have a dog, Mom? That man said it would be good for a kid like me.”

A kid like him. She grinned at his ability to make the connection. “We’ve talked about this before, remember? We can’t have a dog because Grandmom is allergic to them.”

His shoulders slumped. “I forgot.” But he perked up when the curly-haired mutt walked off-screen. “But—but—but—but Mrs. Peterson has a dog like that. I saw the picture on her desk.” He paused. “And she’s allergic.”

His grandmother’s sensitivity to fur and dander had almost been a blessing in disguise, giving Bianca a good excuse to avoid housebreaking and training a dog and cleaning up after it. Still, if she could find one like the curly-haired mutt grinning into the camera now, she might think about it.

She didn’t dare admit such a thing, of course, because in Drew’s mind, anything but a flat-out no was a bona fide commitment, one he’d obsess about until something else came along to take the place of his desire for a dog. Bianca decided to divert his attention before mild curiosity turned into fixation.

“Did Mrs. Peterson give you any other homework?”

“She said ‘Study for a spelling quiz tomorrow, boys and girls!’” He started reading his list of words as Logan recited the charity’s contact information. The camera zoomed in on his face. “The kids need you. Tell ’em, Poe.” And right on cue, the tail-wagging dog barked.

“Mom, can we at least think about getting a dog?”

She picked up the spelling list. “How about you finish your homework, and maybe then we can talk about thinking about it.”

“Great. More ‘Grandmom is allergic’ talk.” Drew sighed heavily. “Sometimes,” he said, “that mother of yours is so exasperating.”

“Exasperating,” she echoed, mussing his hair. “Do you know what it means?”

“Frustrating, annoying, maddening...”

No wonder every specialist called him The Little Professor, she thought as he assigned a new synonym to each of his fingertips.

Grinning, Bianca started Drew’s favorite supper. She grabbed mac and cheese and tomato soup from the pantry and thought about how, in nursery school and pre-K, the county had assigned him to class settings designed specifically for children on the autism spectrum. Almost immediately Drew had sensed that his learning deficiencies weren’t as severe as most of his classmates. In typical Drew fashion, he began gathering data, and one day, halfway through his kindergarten year, he put his self-assessment into words: “I can do lots of things those other kids can’t do, and I know stuff they don’t know.” He’d stopped flapping and crossed both arms over his chest to add, “And I control myself way, way better, too.” Chin up, he met her eyes. “I think it’s time for me to go to regular school.”

So Bianca met with his pediatrician, his teacher and the school principal and guidance counselor. Thanks to a school board member whose granddaughter was on the spectrum, the team decided to give Drew a chance. His academic performance and personal conduct would be closely monitored. If it was determined that his behavior distracted fellow students, or that he couldn’t keep up with curriculum, back to special sessions he’d go. She gave him a lot of credit because he’d held his own...until Joseph was introduced to the mix.

Bianca watched him, eyes squinted in concentration as he whispered “Mother. M-O-T-H-E-R.” He repeated the process with all twelve words on his list.

“Hey, Mom. Can you do two things at once?”

“Depends what the two things are,” she said, stirring elbow noodles into the boiling water.

“Can you mix noodles and test me?”

She turned down the heat under the pot and sat beside him. One by one, she read the words aloud, and one by one, he spelled them. “Great job, honey!” she said when he finished. “You got every single one right!”

“Does that mean I can turn the TV up now?”

Bianca winked. “Okay, but only until I get supper on the table.” She gave the macaroni a quick stir, then grabbed three plates and a handful of silverware as the exact same commercial came on, again.

Logan, looking all handsome and savvy in neatly creased black trousers and a pale blue shirt that brought out the green in his eyes.

“Ninny,” she grumbled. “Why would you notice something like that?”

Bianca blamed it on the tiny café table that had put them nearly nose to nose at the coffee shop. Or the sunshine streaming in through the windows that made his eyes glitter like sea glass. Or the long, dark lashes that—

“Look, Mom,” Drew said, tugging at her sleeve, “it’s him again.” He narrowed one eye. “Say...isn’t he the guy who played a cop in that DVD we watched with Grandmom the other night?”

Bianca’s mother walked into the room and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “Why, Drew,” Maddy said, looking over his shoulder at the television, “you’re absolutely right. That’s Logan Murray, and he did play the part of the cop who helped Mr. Action save Grand City.” She kissed the top of his head. “Your mom is friends with him. Maybe she can get you his autograph.”

Drew’s eyebrows disappeared beneath thick blond bangs. “Whoa. Mom.” He shot her an admiring glance. “You know him? For real?”

“Easy, you two,” she said, laughing. “I booked him for The Morning Show a couple of times, that’s all.” She remembered the feel of his big warm hands as he draped his jacket over her shoulders.

“Well,” Maddy said, “maybe friend was too strong a word.”

“But you really, really know him?”

“Yes, Drew.” Her brain conjured the image of Logan nodding attentively as she rambled on and on about her only child. “But only in a professional capacity.”

“Professional capacity,” he echoed. “Does that mean you could ask him how we could get one of those dogs?” He grinned up at Maddy. “Don’t worry, Grandmom,” he said, “we’ll find one that won’t make your eyes swell shut.”

As Drew’s attention returned to the commercial, Bianca caught her mom’s gaze and mouthed, Let’s talk later, okay?

Maddy squatted beside Drew’s chair. “I have a bunch of shopping bags in my trunk,” she said, mussing his hair. “After supper, will you help me bring them in?”

His eyes never left the screen. “Mmm-hmm.”

Rising, Maddy faced her daughter. “So tell me...is he as charming and handsome in real life as he is on the big screen?” She glanced at the television. “And the small screen?”

As a matter of fact, she thought Logan was more attractive in person than on film, but admitting it would only invite a volley of requests for autographs for her friends...and a repeat performance of “Honey, Jason died three years ago!”

Bianca did her best to sound indifferent. “I wouldn’t say that.” She dished mac and cheese onto three plates. “Supper’s almost ready, Drew. Time to wash your hands.”

He rose slowly and walked toward the powder room. “A dog for Drew,” he said. “A dog for Drew. A dog for Drew!”

Maddy waited until he was out of earshot. “Good heavens, Bianca, how are you going to talk him out of this dog idea?”

“I may not have to,” she began. “I’ve heard good things about these canine companion/autism kid partnerships. Sometimes, if people volunteer to foster these dogs, the agencies bypass the fees. I’ll need to do more research before talking with Drew, of course, but if I can work it out...” She met her mother’s eyes. “But what about you?”