and a cracking voice. Instead he appeared to be making the transition into adolescence and manhood with little pain. He was growing steadily, which kept him lean, his skin was clear and she noticed the faint hint of a beard on his chin. Her baby brother was growing up.
“I’m impressed with your packing skills,” she said sincerely. “I have never taken a trip without forgetting something. Remember, when I went off to college and left all my registration stuff at home?”
Dirk laughed. “Mom had to bring it to you and she got real mad. You were in trouble on your first day.”
Darcy smiled at the memory, even as she tried to remember what it had felt like to be so irresponsible. Life had been easy back then—the world had been at her beck and call. Not anymore.
“You’re rarely in trouble,” she said.
Dirk beamed. “I can remember all the rules. Some of them are dumb, but I follow them. I like it here, Darcy. I want to stay.”
“I know.” She leaned forward and took his hand in hers. “You will stay right up until you’re ready to be on your own.”
He looked doubtful at the prospect. Darcy didn’t blame him. Self-sufficiency was years away for him, but the Madison School was one of the best in the country. The well-trained staff specialized in helping developmentally disabled teens become happy, productive adults. The process could take years, but Darcy was prepared to be patient. All the reports so far had been positive. Besides, Dirk was worth it.
“In the meantime,” she continued, “I guess you’re going to travel the world, aren’t you?”
He grinned. “I’m not going to see the world. Just Chicago.”
He made it sound like no big deal, but she saw the excitement brightening his eyes.
“Andrew says it’s cold there, so I’m taking my warmest jacket,” he continued. “You bought it for me last month. Remember?”
Darcy nodded.
“We’re going to sleep on the train. Andrew says the hotel will have a Turkey dinner for us when we get there.”
“I want to hear all about it,” Darcy said. “Will you write in your journal so you can remember everything?”
He nodded. “I have the camera you gave me for my birthday. I’m going to take lots of pictures.”
“Oh. That reminds me.” Darcy bent down and fished through her purse. She pulled out a three-pack of film for his camera. “This is for you.”
Dirk looked at the gift, then at her. “Darcy?”
She knew what he was asking—what worry drew his brows together and made him study her so carefully. Her brother might have the slow, studied air of someone out of step with the mainstream world, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that money had been tight for them for a long time. While he didn’t know what the school cost her or how many nights she stared into the darkness and prayed she would be able to hold it all together, he guessed that life still wasn’t easy for her.
She gave him a quick hug. “It’s just film, Dirk. I can afford it.”
He still looked worried when she released him. “I have my allowance. I can pay you back.”
“No. That’s your money. Spend it on something for you. Oh, but if you want to bring me back a postcard from Chicago, I wouldn’t say no.”
He nodded. “I’ll bring you two.”
“That would be great.”
He took the film she offered and turned the boxes over in his hands. In his chambray shirt and worn jeans, he looked like any other fourteen-year-old. But he wasn’t. His difficulties had become apparent within the first year of his life. Darcy’s parents had despaired, but Dirk’s uniqueness had only made her love him more.
“I’m going to miss you tomorrow,” she said, changing the subject. “I’ll be thinking about you.”
It was the first Thanksgiving they’d been apart. She tried not to mind.
Happiness poured back into his eyes. “We’re going on the train. I’ve never been on the train.” His smile faded. “I’ll miss you, too, Darcy.”
“Hey, no long faces. Only happy people get to go to Chicago.”
Both Darcy and Dirk glanced up as Andrew, one of the counselors at the school, joined them. He settled on the wing chair next to the sofa.
“How are you doing, Darcy? Keeping busy?”
She thought of her shift at the Hip Hop, followed by hours of baking every afternoon and evening. She had to shop for supplies for her home business and find time to make deliveries. Then there was the small matter of preparing a Thanksgiving dinner on a rare day off.
“I manage to keep myself occupied,” she said ruefully.
“I know you do.” He turned toward Dirk and nodded at the film still in his hands. “You’re going to see a lot of really great things in the city. Darcy’s going to be excited about your pictures.”
Dirk grinned. “I’ll put them in my photo album and write down what they were.”
“I look forward to that,” Darcy said honestly. She wanted to hear every detail of her brother’s first trip without her.
“He’s been getting really good with his photography,” Andrew said. “He’s got several of the other students interested as well. After the first of the year, a local photographer is going to be teaching a class a couple of times a week.”
“That sounds fabulous.”
“We do whatever works,” he said.
Darcy leaned back against the sofa and let the warmth of contentment flow over her. Whenever she questioned her decision to uproot Dirk and herself and move to Montana of all places, she reminded herself that this school was one of the best in the country. Where else would her brother get full-time attention from an excellent staff? Andrew, a Ph.D. in his mid-thirties, lived in the facility with his wife, who was expecting their first child. Most of the staff lived on the extensive grounds in private homes. Experts in various fields were brought in to teach the students. Activities were kept interesting and practical.
The trip to Chicago was one example. The students would have the experience of riding on a train, staying in a hotel and exploring a large city all under the careful supervision of the staff. The school offered two or three such trips each year. By the time Dirk was ready to be on his own, he would know what it was like to travel by train or plane, rent a room, order in a restaurant, go to a museum, ask for directions and find his way home. These were experiences she couldn’t begin to give him.
“Dirk’s doing well,” Andrew said, giving the boy a thumbs-up. “He’s made a lot of friends.”
Yet another thing she couldn’t give him, she thought happily. The opportunity to interact with peers.
“I’m glad,” she said.
Andrew
