Colby seemed to enjoy the quiet, as well.
To make the boy feel as comfortable as possible, they’d brought Miss Molly. Max had been concerned the dog might bark and scare way the fish, but the golden retriever was as quiet as a church mouse. She simply rested her head on Colby’s leg, her wide brown eyes watchful, alert, but calm. Max was starting to buy into this whole service-dog angle for autism. It had seemed kinda fuzzy wuzzy before. Not very scientific. But Max had been watching. And the dog employed techniques to keep Colby calm that went beyond the boy just feeling comfortable with his four-legged companion. Pressure at just the right moment to stop a meltdown. Alerting Natalie when Colby was growing agitated. The list went on and every time Margie came by for lessons, they fine-tuned training, increment by increment.
Colby cast a quick glance Max’s way, then turned his face back to the water. “My dad isn’t coming home.”
The air whooshed from Max’s lungs. This conversation had gone deeper than he’d expected. Deeper than he thought Natalie would want. But right now Max had to handle this as best he could for Colby’s sake. “I’m very sorry about that.”
He nodded, his head moving like the jerky fishing bobber. “Mom’s sad.”
Of course she was. Could that be a part of her pulling away? And how damn wrong was it to feel jealous of a dead man? “And what about you?”
“Lexie’s sad.”
“And you?” Max asked again.
The grief in the boy’s normally rather flat tones tore at Max. “I don’t like when people are sad.”
“I don’t either, buddy.”
“I’m not your buddy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You don’t know me.”
“All right. Fair enough.” More silence sprang up, allowing Max to contemplate the boy’s words. Max knew what it was like to be wary of trusting other adults—part of why he’d been so drawn to the logic of computers. An idea tugged at him. He cranked his reel in, then cast again. “Colby, when we finish up here, would you like me to show you some fishing games on my computer?”
“Yes, please.” He nodded eagerly, still keeping his face forward. “But we’re still gonna grill our fish, right?”
“Absolutely,” Max said without hesitation, pumped at the boy’s enthusiasm over th
e computer idea. “Absolutely.”
And he was unsettled at how much this victory meant to him.
* * *
The sun had already receded from the horizon as Natalie stood at the sink and cleared off the supper dishes. She’d tucked her children into bed, and sleep had found them quickly.
Colby had gone to sleep so quickly and deeply he hadn’t even needed his weighted blanket that helped him with sensory issues. He’d clearly enjoyed his afternoon with Max. Which, of course, made her happy.
But, God, it worried her a little, too. She hated that she had to worry about that, since she wanted desperately to see more signs of him connecting with people.
“You’re quite the chef.” She scraped the traces of grilled catfish, corn on the cob and a raisin-and-rice salad into the garbage disposal.
“You should see me in my own domain.” He sprayed cleaning solution on the kitchen table. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by her. Receiving help wasn’t something she was accustomed to, and she appreciated it.
Moving from the trash can to the sink, she pressed on. “Your house in Seattle?”
“Condo actually, in my company’s St. Cloud Tower. It keeps me close to work.”
“A condo. In Seattle.” She couldn’t imagine living without a yard for her children and Miss Molly to run in.
“I haven’t had much use for a yard with all the time I spend away from home. But I can see the benefits of a porch swing.” He winked. “I’ll have to look into installing one on my rooftop garden.”
For a moment, her mind wandered to the rooftop garden. What it would be like to nestle next to him in the cold Seattle air on that yet-to-be-installed porch swing. “I imagine that would be a lovely view.”
“You should come see it.”