and his body jerked.
Christopher stood in the bedroom doorway, hands fluttering at his sides. He had removed his pajamas, put on the jeans and blue sweatshirt he’d worn during today’s trip. His sneakers were laced.
A stream of accelerated speech poured from his mouth. “Anything-can-happen-to-a-helicopter-in-the-mountains.”
Rubens released a throaty sound. The boy turned. “Daddy?”
Oh, God, he’d mistaken Will for Dennis. Savanna grabbed her copy of the laminated agenda and hurried to the boy. “Christopher. This is your Uncle Will. Remember I told you—” a hundred times “—that we were coming to Alaska to see your uncle? This is him.”
As Christopher rushed forward to crowd her space and look straight into her eyes, a small thrill struck her heart. In the past two days he hadn’t made eye contact with her once. He’d been anxious and worried and disoriented, wholly out of his routine.
“Savanna! How come Uncle Will looks like Dad?”
“Because he’s his brother.” Even though he’s much taller and bigger and his eyes are another color. “We’ll talk more in the morning, okay, pal? Now it’s time for bed.” She held up the agenda, pointed to the tenth number. “See. Bedtime. Take off your day clothes and put on your pajamas.”
“Oh, yeah.” He turned and disappeared back into the bedroom.
“Excuse us,” she said to Rubens and followed Christopher.
She was helping the boy back under the covers when Dennis’s brother came to the door. “Anything I can do?” he asked.
“We’re almost done.”
“He always like that?”
She shot him a look. “I’ll be right out, Mr. Rubens. Then we’ll talk.”
Big and bold, he remained leaning in the doorway with those watchful eyes. She turned away, though the skin beneath her sweater grew uncomfortably warm. The man was like no other she’d met. Yes, she had known overconfident, arrogant males—she’d seen them in the Third World carrying guns—but Will Rubens needed no gun. His confidence stemmed from an innate source.
After tucking the covers around Christopher, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Go to sleep, pal. Get a good night’s rest.”
The boy closed his eyes. For several moments, she watched him, waiting. His mouth drooped, emitting the little snore; he was asleep.
She brushed back his hair—the aged-gold shade of his father’s—and dropped a kiss on the child’s temple. Christopher disliked hugs and kisses unless he initiated them, so Savanna contented herself with these sweet furtive rituals.
“Wow, fast sleeper.” Rubens spoke from the doorway where he still lounged. “Wish I was so lucky.”
“He wasn’t always as quick. Prior to his eighth birthday, he had a hard time falling asleep. The slightest noise would wake him.” She walked to where Rubens stood backlit by the soft glow of the lamps in the living quarters. Hands in rear pockets, he leaned against the doorjamb, comfortable with studying her. She hugged her waist.
Quietly he said, “Never heard someone repeat entire sentences like that.”
“He’s very bright, Mr. Rubens. You might say he’s gifted. But he’s still autistic, which means his development is not the same as most children. For example, if you asked him to name a very small item, he might say the electrons around the nucleus of a helium atom.”
“Really?” Awe gripped his voice.
“Really.”
He looked past her. “Sounds like he’s pretty special.”
“He’s incredible.”
Ruben’s attention reverted to Savanna. “You love him.”
She didn’t waver. “With all my heart.”
For a long moment he held her in place with his eyes. “How long did you work for my brother?”
“Three years. Initially it was a couple times a week, but because Elke was like a sister…” She looked back at the bed. “When he was born, they asked me to be Chris’s godmother.”
He didn’t respond. Not a flicker of an eyelash.
“Anyway,” she continued, disquieted with his scrutiny, “Elke cut back her hours at the clinic to be with Christopher in the afternoon. I taught her how to handle his behaviors, to work with routines.” And a thousand other strategies Savanna couldn’t explain in one evening.
“Why did it take so long before he was diagnosed?”
“They suspected something was amiss when Chris was three. He hadn’t started talking yet, and when he finally did, it was mostly repetitive. He also didn’t play with your typical toys, like trucks and cars.” She sighed. “At first, Elke tried to deal with the situation on her own, but she found it…exceedingly difficult.” She released a heavy breath. “That’s when I came into the picture.”
Still he did not let her pass through the doorway, and his eyes snared her with that dawn-dusk blue. “I’ve never worked with kids like him,” he said.
“Then you’ll learn.”
He pushed away, walked to the suite’s entry door. “Have the lawyer contact me, Ms. Stowe. I’ll make the arrangements for you to take the boy back to the Outside.”
“Mr. Rubens—”
He turned, eyes hard. “You have my number. Call me in the morning and we’ll discuss it further. Good night.” Stepping into the hotel corridor, he pulled the door closed.
Savanna’s heart thudded in her chest. From what she had observed, Will Rubens was not Dennis. He was not gentle or compassionate or caring. Instead she had brought Christopher into an environment far from conducive to his optimum upbringing. How could she leave him with this man, this brother who was the inversion of the one she’d come to respect and admire?
Dennis, how could you have been so reckless?
But she knew why he’d done it. She understood his reasoning to bring Christopher without warning.
Dennis had relied on his memories. On the one factor that made Will Rubens human. With Christopher, he’d gifted his brother part of his heart.
Chapter Two
Will tossed the keys to the SUV onto the kitchen counter. Beyond the window above the sink, a clear moon cut an icy hole in the starry night.
What was he going to do about the kid—hell, the woman? How could she have brought the boy so far north without checking with him first? And Dennis…what the hell was he thinking? Had been thinking…?
God, his brother. For two long minutes Will leaned his hands on the counter and hung his head, battling the tears, knowing grief and guilt would lie on his
