pal,” Savanna said, giving Will her best stern look. “We’re staying in Starlight.”
“Forever?”
“Hopefully for a long time.”
Thankfully, Mindy the waitress arrived with their food. For several seconds Savanna watched Will and he watched her while the waitress doled out the plates, asking Christo pher to move his map so she could set down his plate.
The boy disregarded her.
Savanna slid her hands gently beneath Christopher’s, lifting him and the page free from the table’s surface.
“Doesn’t he hear?” Mindy asked.
“He has difficulty—”
“He’s autistic,” Will cut in.
“Awesome-tistic,” Christopher corrected without raising his head from the map. “I’m awesome-tistic and you’re an NT.”
The waitress looked as if she’d swallowed a raw egg. “Sorry. Um, well… Holler if you need anything else.” She scurried off.
Savanna picked up her cereal spoon. “Let’s eat.”
Will studied Christopher. “What’s an NT?”
“Neurotypical,” the boy said, checking both sides of his toast; finding them acceptable.
Savanna explained, “People who are not aspies, who don’t have ASD, are sometimes called NTs.” She winked at Will, hoping he would clue in and let the topic drop.
“You mean nor—”
“Yes. Exactly. But that’s an old term.”
“Sorry, didn’t know.”
“Now you do.” She leveled her gaze across the plates of food. This was his child. His obligation according to Dennis’s last request. Given the choice she never would have brought Christopher to Alaska, to this man with his wily handsome eyes. She would have taken Christopher to Tennessee, to her hometown where her brother and family lived, and reared the boy as her own.
But she had to give Will Rubens the conditional twelve weeks.
She turned to the boy. “It’s time to eat your breakfast, buddy. You can study the map once you’ve finished your juice and toast.”
“Triangles,” he said.
She cut the bread into the geometric shapes; the boy chose one and bit off a corner. “Chris likes his food cut into precise pieces and I help him get it right.” Over the table she caught Will’s gaze. Give the man something positive, Savanna. “He’s also a pro at drawing maps and trains.”
“Trains.” The boy munched his toast and latched on to his current pet topic. “They were once steam engines, y’know? People think they were invented by a Scotsman James Watt in 1769, but he only improved the mechanics and designed a separate condenser. The real inventor was Thomas Savery in 1698 in England.”
“Yes,” she conceded. “And you sketch those old engines with a lot of detail.”
Christopher spread a pat of peanut butter from a tiny packet the waitress had set on the side of his plate.
Savanna glanced at Will. A little hammer tripped in her chest. It had been a long time since a man looked at her with such intensity. Softly she said, “I know this is all a shock to you, Mr. Rubens. However, Chris and I will remain at the lodge for the interim until I find a place to rent. It’s important you and your…nephew begin the changeover as soon as possible.”
The man across from her dug into his eggs. “There’s a flight out of Anchorage this evening. I can have you there in two hours, then you can sleep on the way home, wherever that is.”
“Tennessee.” Savanna set her fork against her plate. “You might as well understand. We are not leaving.”
Slowly he laid down his utensils. “Fine.” From his hip pocket he drew out his wallet; tossed down a twenty. “This conversation is over.” Pushing back his chair, he offered her a nod, then walked out of the restaurant.
Well. That certainly was interesting. At least he hadn’t said flat-out no.
Packing the New York businessmen’s fishing gear into the storage compartment of the helicopter, Will thought long and hard about Savanna Stowe. Hell, he’d been thinking long and hard about the woman since he heard her message on his answering machine.
Five foot whatever of unadulterated obstinacy, that’s what she was. Where did she come off figuring he could manage a kid who had those kinds of behaviors and learning problems—with him flying all over hell’s half acre at the drop of a hat?
Kid is Dennis’s.
Yeah, and the boy had some of his brother’s DNA, but he also had Elke’s gene pool running in his blood. And Will hadn’t been a fan of Elke. After conceiving—an analytical experience he’d never go through again for any reason—she’d coaxed Dennis into that jungle. Where he had died in a fixed wing, a single-engine plane, not entirely different from the bird Will loaded.
Ah, Dennis.
Why hadn’t he returned to Alaska after the boy was born? They needed doctors like him up here just the same as down there. But, no. Elke got that damned do-gooder notion in her head and thought Dennis, with his skills, could save more souls in those godforsaken jungles than in Alaska. As if they didn’t have one-room shacks and diseases in this neck of the woods.
Truth be known, Elke hadn’t wanted to live near her mother who had, by the way, considered Dennis’ younger brother a “juvenile thrill seeker.” So rather than stand up to Rose Jarvis, Elke chose to run and take Dennis along.
With a last shove, Will secured the expensive black tackle boxes the Henricks twins would use to fly-fish off the shores of the Big Su. This was the brothers’ fifth trip to Alaska, and they always used Will as their pilot of choice. There were others—Ike Markham, Vince Forrest—but none flew the risky areas.
Only Will.
And Savanna Stowe wanted him to play Daddy.
He climbed from the helicopter’s cargo area and motioned to his two passengers gazing out of the windows of the tiny airstrip’s service station. Airtime.
The men, carrying shoulder packs, headed through the door, into the bright afternoon sun. As Will gave instructions, he settled them onboard.
A thousand feet up, the Talkeetna Mountains bumped along the western horizon and beyond them Denali, Alaska’s highest rock, speared the sky like a chunk of white chocolate.
As always sky time was like touching heaven. For a moment Will imagined Dennis beside him with that crazy, slanted grin, eyes full of mischief—the way Christopher’s had been when he’d said “awesometistic.”
Will’s heart thumped in his chest. God have mercy, what had he been thinking?
He couldn’t
