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?”
“What about me? If there’s really a breed out there that won’t make my eyes swell shut,” she said, quoting Drew, “I see no harm in it. Every boy needs a dog.”
“But everything will be different with a furry four-legged kid in the house.”
Maddy ladled tomato soup into bowls. “We’ll need to make some adjustments, of course. But you know, I think a pet will be good for all of us. It’ll give Drew something to focus on besides those ridiculous electronic gizmos of his.”
He did spend an inordinate amount of time with handheld games and such, Bianca admitted to herself as she filled Drew’s glass with milk.
“I’m not complaining, mind you,” Maddy continued, “but it gets lonely around here when you’re at work and Drew is in school. Might be nice to have a warm body around that enjoys affection.”
Bianca couldn’t argue. Drew participated in physical affection—if she was careful not to overdo it—but barely ever hugged his grandmother. All in good time, she thought. Hopefully.
“Bianca...since you need to find out more about these helper dogs anyway, have you considered asking Logan Murray to help?”
“He’s the organization’s commercial spokesperson, Mom. He might not know anything that might help us.”
“How will you know unless you ask?”
Drew hopped into the room, grabbed his napkin and rolled it into a tube. “Grandmom is right,” he said through it. “Like you’re always telling me...you won’t know unless you ask.”
Laughing, Bianca rolled her eyes. “Two against one isn’t fair!”
“Something else you keep saying and saying and saying... ‘Life isn’t always fair.’”
She
