More Than This: Contemporary Christian Romance Novel (27 page)

He took a long breath and let it out slowly. “Good since I’m here with you.” Leaning over, he pecked her cheek. Then he straightened and stretched. “You about ready for some supper?”

“Uh, y-yeah. What are we having?”

“Well, unless we go shopping, I think we’re stuck with tuna surprise and the last of the pumpkin pie.”

“Hm. Sounds good.” There it was. The brochure. “Um, I’m just going to read through this, and then I’ll be there.”

“No biggie. I think I can work a microwave.” With that, he pushed away from the couch and went into the kitchen.

Her heart was pounding like a kick drum. Those squiggly red and green lines continued to snake across her consciousness as she forced herself to read through the list of Signs and Symptoms of Dyslexia on the brochure.
Creative. Imaginative. Good with Hands. Poor spelling.
The words started lodging in her throat.
Poor reading skills.
Her mind cris-crossed back and forth through their time together. What had she seen him read other than his own story? Anything? Surely there was something, some clue.

Possible difficulty in math. Frustration with schoolwork. Inability to complete homework in normal amount of time. Reading sentences over and over. Decoding issues.

She could read no more. Every word hurt like a knife. Not that she knew for sure, and yet she did. From the kitchen she heard him humming softly, and it broke her heart. How much was he covering up? How much had he gone through? Had anyone ever helped him? Had he even finished school? How would she ever ask?

Suddenly in clear view, the mountain loomed large and frightening in front of her, and knowing nothing else to do, she bowed her head and prayed as she never had before. “Oh, Lord, please help me here. I need to know what to do for him. Please, please help.”

“So, how’s the story going?” Liz asked over her tuna although eating was last on her list of things to do. Truth was, she felt kind of sick, but she took a bite trying to act normal— whatever that was anymore. The noodles tasted like mushed-up bland baby food, which wasn’t helping.

“Good. Jasmine finally got the old guy calmed down. At least he’s not going to shoot her now.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, and now she has this ticket thing she found in the book. I think it has to do with the Holocaust.”

“The Holocaust? How can you tell?”

He narrowed his gaze as if he was trying to see something in his mind. “It’s just this feeling I have, that somehow it’s all connected.” Then he opened his eyes fully and shook his head. “I don’t know. Who knows where any of this is going. Maybe nowhere.” He forked through the noodles, laughing at what he clearly perceived to be a joke.

But to her this was no laughing matter. It was as serious as life got. This leap of faith felt more deadly than any she had ever taken before, but she wanted to know, no, she needed to know. And now was as good a time as any to start asking. “I guess you were really good in school, huh? I bet the teachers loved you.”

Surprise laced with a definite thread of fear crossed through his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Yeah, but I bet English was a snap for you. History too. I mean, you just seem like a sponge for that stuff.”

Worry, panic, terror, they all paraded through his eyes though he quickly covered them with a shrug before his gaze fell to the noodles on his plate. “Oh, you know. School was okay I guess.”

She reached for her glass and took a drink, willing herself not to spill it. “So where did you graduate from anyway? I never did ask.”

He looked ready to jump off a cliff in the other direction, and his glance up really wasn’t. “Oh, uh…” He scratched his head as if he’d suddenly developed a bad case of lice. “You wouldn’t know it. It’s not one of the bigger schools.” At that he stood and headed to the kitchen. “There’s only one slice of pie left. Are we sharing it, or are you going to be nice and let me have it?”

Deep knowing settled into her. He was running. That much was obvious now. It took a full ten seconds to get the answer out of her mouth. “You take it. I’m not very hungry.”

It wasn’t his fault. It really wasn’t. Somehow Jake had just hoped the subject of his past would never come up with her. It was so much easier to live in the present. However, when the dishes were finished, he knew in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t go on any longer hiding who he really was. Besides, he was tired of hiding it. When he was alone, it was easier. This just felt too much like lying. Maybe she would understand. Maybe she wouldn’t. But she deserved to know the truth one way or the other.

She was already back on the couch reading when he shut off the light in the kitchen and stepped into the dining-living area. His heart jerked at the sight. She was so beautiful sitting there, and he heaved a sigh, praying she wouldn’t throw him out once she knew. Fear yanked him backward, making every step to that couch feel like it took all the effort in the world. How could he face this? What words could he use? “God, help. Please.”

Liz heard him come into the room. She had expected him to go to the laptop on the table— the one with all the confusing squiggly lines, but he didn’t. Instead, he came over to where she was on the couch and sat down on the other side of it. Hope that maybe he was coming to spend time with her nosedived with one glance over at him. He looked ready to run or to jump off the nearest high-rise, and that thought dragged up the memory of how scared he was in the statue. Yes, it was the same look he had now.

She closed her book and laid it on the coffee table. “You okay?”

He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together; however, he didn’t say anything.

Fear knocked across her heart hard. “Jake?”

The breath was slow and deliberate, and he never so much as glanced at her. “Um, I have something to tell you, and I don’t know how you’re going to take it.” He swallowed so that she saw his Adam’s apple bob.

“Okay.” She sat up, scooted toward him, and then leaned toward him before putting her hand over his. “Tell me.”

Worry and wonder twined in her as he sat there saying nothing. Would he really trust her that much?

His glance at her spoke of both fear and embarrassment, and when he put it back on their hands in his lap, he let out another gasp of air. Finally he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I never...” He let out another breath. “Um. I never... finished.”

So it was true. “Finished?” The word tried to coax more out.

Pain flowed from his face like a raging river down a mountainside. It hurt to watch. Then his gaze came to hers and held. The pleading in it, the begging her not to trash him shattered her already fragile heart. “High school. I never finished high school.”

She had known, maybe almost the whole time but this knowing felt very different than that. This one actually hurt. “Why not?”

That question sent his gaze skittering again, and her heart panged at his obvious desperation to get away.

“It’s okay, Jake. Really. It is. I just want to know.”

He stood and took two steps away from her so that all she could see were the black jeans and blue plaid over T-shirt he wore. The struggle he was having was as clear as the struggle in her own heart over how to help him. “I don’t know. I... just... I couldn’t do it, you know? I couldn’t... Everything was just so dang hard. I tried. I really did, but it just kept getting harder and harder, and I finally had to admit that I couldn’t do it. So when I was a junior, I quit. Dropped out and went to work at the ship yards.”

Liz listened, absorbing the pain in the words, and then she stood. She went over to him and gently took hold of him to turn him around to face her. Only then did she see the silver tears shimmering in his eyes although they never fell. “It’s okay, Jake. Really it is.” She pulled him to her and held him, willing him to feel the love in her embrace.

In her arms, he sniffed and swiped at his eyes. “You don’t deserve this. You deserve somebody great. Somebody who has their act together. Not me.”

But she only shook her head in his chest. “No, Jake. Don’t do that to yourself.” She backed up so she could look into his eyes again, which didn’t really work because he looked as if he might never have the courage to look at her again. “No. Now, look. You listen to me. This is not you. Okay? You are brilliant and creative and intelligent. And you have so much to offer this world, so don’t you dare quit on yourself. You hear me?”

She hugged him again because he said nothing. Then breaking the hug, she took his hand to lead him back to the couch. He came behind her dragging his feet rather than walking. When they sat, she made sure to sit right next to him, their legs touching, her hands clasped over and through his. “Talk to me, Jake. I really want to know.”

He sat for a moment before his gaze fell to the darkness at his feet. “I think I have that dys... thing, whatever it is.”

“Dyslexia.”

He nodded and she joined him in the nod.

“How do you know?” she asked gently.

His gaze came up to hers, and she’d never seen anyone so torn apart. It made her cry out again to God to help her through this because she was on standing water that could swallow her up at any moment. After another ten seconds, he let out a breath and stood. She followed him with only her gaze this time as he went around the couch and over to his laptop. Her heart jammed into her throat as she fought to hold onto calm.

In what felt like two seconds he was back, sitting next to her, opening the lid of the thing. He took one more glance at her and hit the power button. It took a small eternity for it to come on, and when it did, Liz braced herself for what she would see there. She already knew, but that had been only a glimpse at the outcome not at the horrendous amount of effort it took to get there. Tears pooled in her eyes as she saw first the red and green scrawled on the screen and then the look on his face. His head was down, but she could see the humiliation etched there just the same.

When he looked up at her, there was a sad apology in his eyes. “That’s why I didn’t want to show it to you.”

She dragged in a ragged, shaky breath to keep the tears down as she shook her head, embracing him with her gaze, praying he would know she wasn’t going anywhere. “How long have you known?”

With a small shake of his head, he turned the computer back to him and closed the lid. “Since I was little. I just never knew what to call it until you started telling me all that stuff.”

Anger pummeled into her. “You never knew until now?”

He exhaled hard and put the computer on the coffee table with a small crack. “No. I always thought it was just me.” Coming back he took hold of his wrist with his other hand. “And I’m still not real sure it’s not.” Not even a glance came her way. “I know. I’m a writer who can’t write. That’s a pretty sad, huh?” He sounded as if his spirit had been beaten into submission, and she realized then that it had.

Slowly she bridged the small gap between them. “Jake, look at me.”

He didn’t for a long minute, and then his gaze slipped up to hers.

She willed calm into her heart. It was time to be strong for both of them. “I don’t know how, but we’re going to get you help.”

Jake shook his head and flopped back onto the cushions.

“Yes, Jake. Now, you listen to me. This is not hopeless, and I’m not about to let you give up on yourself.”

“I’ve been trying... to fix this my whole life. What makes now any different?”

A smile brushed her heart. “Well, for one thing you’re not alone anymore. For another, I know where we can find the answers. Look. I am not going to just let you out there to twist in the wind. I hate what this thing does to kids, and I hate what it’s doing to you. I look at you, and I see this terrific guy who’s got so much to offer, and I’m not willing to let you go the rest of your life without doing something to fix it.”

He let his head fall to the side to look at her. “Yeah, but is it fixable? I mean, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Yeah, but I do.” The determination solidified in her chest as she leaned into his arm then, and although it took a moment for his embrace to fall around her, it finally did. She slid her gaze up to him. “This time you’re not doing this alone. Okay? We’re in this together. You and me. And we’re going to find the answer.”

His only reply was rubbing her arm with his hand and one small kiss on the top of her head. But it was enough. She closed her eyes, hugged him to her, and whispered a silent plea that God would show them the way.

When he finally got to the door to leave, Jake felt as though he’d gone ten rounds with the heavy weight contender.

“Will you be all right getting home?” Liz asked as with her arms around him, she gazed up at him.

He turned a small, grateful smile down on her. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” She pulled him to her and put her head on his chest. How she could make something so simple feel so incredible, he couldn’t clearly tell. “I’ll go by the Literacy Center tomorrow. Don’t worry, okay? We’re going to figure something out.”

What else could he do? What could he say? He’d fought for so long. Was he really going to turn down help even if it was pointless? Wearily he relinquished the fight into her hands. He was tired of fighting. “K.”

“And don’t you dare stand me up at the coffee shop tomorrow night either. You hear me?”

This nod had even more weary attached to it. “K.” Funny, was she starting to read his thoughts as well? But he wouldn’t stand her up now even if he wanted to. “I’ll be there.”

Liz’s tennis shoes slapped on the concrete as she hurried to the Literacy Center the next afternoon. She had three hours, and she had a feeling that wasn’t going to be nearly enough. At the doors, she let out a breath, closed her eyes, said a breath of a prayer, and then boldly told the mountain to move. With a small smile, she pushed into the doors.

All morning as he worked the forklift back and forth, Jake thought about her. She hadn’t run... yet. Whole pieces of him still said she would eventually, that sooner or later she would see he was hopeless and it was hopeless and then she would be gone. Still, she wasn’t gone now, and somehow that gave him one, tiny glimmer of hope to hold onto. “God, I don’t know if You’re listening right now, but I need you here. Please, show me how to believe even though all I see is how this can’t ever work.”

“Why Liz,” Mrs. McLaughlin said with a smile, “I thought you had forgotten all about us.”

“No.” Liz clutched the strap of her backpack trying to focus on the woman and not the other eight people in the room. They were all moving blocks around on the tables. She needed so many answers to so many questions, she didn’t know where to start. “Um, can we... talk? Somewhere without...” She glanced around, and Mrs. McLaughlin caught at least something of the apprehension.

“Certainly. We can talk in my office.”

“Thank— thank you.”

She followed the woman across the gold-carpeted area, past the tables, and into a small office with windows on the other side.