His Brother's Gift. Mary J. Forbes
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One. She might have moved Christopher into Georgia’s house, but she had kept her promise to Dennis.
“I’d like a chance with Christopher,” he said. “I’ll hire a nanny for the days I’m flying and can’t be with him or,” he looked back at the house, “I’ll make arrangements with Georgia.” Though he hoped that necessity wouldn’t happen.
“Georgia isn’t capable of watching Christopher for long stretches. She’s eighty-six with a possible onset of Parkinson’s. However, I am capable. As I’ve explained, I’ll be staying in Starlight until I see that Christopher has adjusted to you and his new home. And,” she paused, “until I feel confident you’re able to care for him. If not, we’ll both be on the next flight out.”
Will stared at her. If she wasn’t a woman and if his mother hadn’t whupped respect into him before she died, he’d tell Savanna Stowe in no uncertain terms to take a long hike into the mountains. She was using that superior attitude again. Like he had no sense, no brains. The way Rose had classified him.
Okay, fine. He’d play along. He wanted the kid. If that meant singing her tune, he’d sing. “Tell me what you want.”
She blinked, no doubt surprised he’d acquiesced without a murmur.
“You’ll need to readjust your flying time to be home when Christopher is finished with his day. He’ll need your attention then.”
“Seems he does fine with his maps.” He skipped another look toward the house. “I saw him with a Game Boy in there.”
She scowled. “Those are fine for emergencies. Look, except for his learning and some specific behaviors, Christopher is just a little boy. He requires stability and routine like other children. But he also requires a lot of mental stimulation. Which you’ll need to provide.”
“And if I don’t he’ll throw a tantrum, rip down curtains?” Will tried to joke.
Her pupils pinpricked. “Possibly. Imagine ignoring an active, anxious toddler.”
Will couldn’t imagine. The youngest kid he had coached was six. An age when they talked and walked and went to the washroom alone. When they could entertain themselves with a Tonka truck.
“Maybe he’ll like playing on a Little League team.”
She blew a soft sigh. “Will, have you read anything about Autism Spectrum Disorder or Asperger’s Syndrome?”
“Checked the Internet a bit last night.” Her scrutiny had him itching to pace. “Before that—” He shrugged.
“The Internet is a start. There’s also the library or bookstores.”
“Fine. What about his education at school?”
“I talked to the principal and the fifth-grade teacher at Starlight Elementary yesterday. They’re willing to let me volunteer as Christopher’s assistant for now. However, as his guardian, your input will be considered first and foremost.”
“Seems you have it under control.”
“Because my dedication is to Christopher, who needs an immediate routine. And sometimes even that doesn’t work as planned. Today he’ll be anxious. He won’t be familiar with the school or the kids. And he’ll worry they’ll stare and tease.”
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