LITMIR.BIZ

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to look after him when I’m gone on those trips?” Abruptly he rose to pace from TV to hallway. Back and forth. Scraping a hand through his hair. Muttering, “I can’t do it. The time schedule…”

      “Mr. Rubens, if you could calm yourself…”

      He barked a laugh. “Calm myself? Lady, first you inform me my brother and his wife are dead, then you tell me I’ve inherited their kid. How do you expect me to react?”

      “With responsibility,” she retorted.

      His head jerked. “You think I’m not responsible? Do you have any idea what it takes to fly into a mountain range with six people aboard a helicopter?”

      The way Dennis and Elke had four days ago. “Yes,” she said steadily. “I do. And, please. Could you speak with a normal tone? You’ll wake Christopher with your shouting.”

      He stopped, once more running a hand through his shaggy hair. “I wasn’t shouting.”

      “Your voice is raised.”

      “I wasn’t shouting,” he repeated stubbornly.

      “Okay. We agree to disagree. Let that be the only thing.”

      A snort. She ignored it. “What matters at the moment is that you are now Christopher’s guardian.” And father.

      He continued to pace. “Why the hell would Dennis make this—this request when I don’t know the first thing about kids.”

      “But you do,” she said patiently. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, she might have laughed at his expression. “You used to volunteer for Big Brothers, although you stopped that a couple of years ago when you got involved coaching Little League teams during the daylight season.”

      His blue eyes pinned her. “Been busy, have you?”

      Gossiping, his gaze accused. Except, she hadn’t; she hated idle chatter. “Shane down at the desk volunteered the information.” She lifted a brow. “Your fishing buddy?”

      And Elke. Elke had told her more than Savanna wanted to know about the notorious freewheeling Will Rubens.

      He grunted. “Shane’s flapping his gums, as usual.”

      She had no idea what Shane’s “usual” was. “Don’t blame him. I made some inquiries before I set out on this trip.” Like contacting Elke’s grandmother and longtime resident, Georgia Martin, as well as Starlight’s mayor, Max Shepherd. “I was not about transfer a ten-year-old from the only home he’s known to this frozen tundra without investigating who he’d be living with for the next decade.” She gestured to the rust-colored sofa. “Would you please sit down so we can go over the issues?”

      “What are you, a teacher?” he grumbled, but did as she requested.

      “Actually, I teach special-needs students, though I began in ESL—English as a second language.” She hesitated, then decided if they were to get on the same page, he had to know the wheres and whys of her history with his family. “Elke and I were roommates at Stanford and became best friends. It didn’t matter that she married Dennis, we continued to keep in touch through the years. Then I moved to Cedros and began teaching there.” She paused, letting this brother absorb the information. “When Christopher went into third grade, Elke and Dennis asked me to set up a behavior intervention program for him.”

      “Behavior intervention?” Rubens shot a look toward the bedroom as if Christopher might appear, fangs bared. “Like those nannies on TV?”

      “No, I assist children with Autistic Spectrum Disorders, or ASD as we know it.”

      His head came around slowly. “Autistic…?”

      “Yes,” she confirmed so there would be no mistake. “As you probably know, Christopher has Asperger’s Syndrome. It’s a form of ASD. A milder form,” she added when he set his hands on his knees, ready to spring into a mode of action. “But autism nonetheless.”

      “Dennis never said anything about autism.”

      Savanna couldn’t look away. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rubens. Maybe they were afraid to tell you.”

      “I’m his brother.” He shook his head slightly. “Was his brother.” Again the blueness of his eyes startled her. “He should have told me.”

      Oh, Dennis, she thought. Why didn’t you forewarn him? The child is his, after all. “Yes, he should have.” The omitted fact spoke more than she wanted to consider about Will Rubens.

      Again, he scraped at his hair. The result left a rumpled look she imagined he saw in the mirror each morning. She looked away.

      “Guess I had that coming,” he continued. “Dennis and I…our relationship went by the wayside after—Ah, hell. Look, Ms. Stowe. I can’t look after the boy…Christopher. My work takes me miles from home and it’s dangerous. Anything can happen to a helicopter in the mountains. And besides, my place…my life isn’t set up for kids, never mind one with problems. Have my brother’s lawyer contact me and I’ll arrange to give him complete permission to put the boy into foster care or adopted into a loving and trustworthy family.”

      “Mr. Rubens—”

      “Will. Please.” Suddenly his head swung left 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

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