He shook his head slowly. “I can’t, Lord. I honestly can’t, and if You don’t, I guess I’m going to be shoveling on this stupid mountain forever. Please, help me, Lord. Please.”
There was no bolt of lightning, no thundering voice from above, but peace settled over and through Jake, and when Liz knelt, so did he. He didn’t understand all of it, but that one mustard seed of faith already felt like it was changing things— inside of him if nothing else, and maybe even that would be enough.
They stopped at the little bistro on the way home to get breakfast in pita sandwiches. Liz watched him trying not to as they sat at the tiny table. Something had changed though she couldn’t quite tell what that something was. “How was church?” she finally asked, hoping she wasn’t overstepping her bounds— whatever those even were anymore.
Jake’s face went through five emotions before he said anything. “Interesting.”
“How so?”
He fingered the edge of his sandwich. “Do you believe all that stuff about the mountains?”
That surprised her and sent her backward. Besides the youth group where she didn’t talk much, she’d never really discussed her faith with anyone. “Yeah. I mean, I’d like to.”
Concern and confusion drifted through his eyes. “But you’ve been doing this church thing for a long time.”
Liz puzzled over the statement for a moment. “So that means I should have it all figured out then.”
He shrugged. “Something like that.”
No longer eating, she thought that through. “Well, to tell you the honest truth, I feel like those disciples a lot of times. I want to have faith, I try, you know, but sometimes I’m left going, ‘God, why didn’t that work? I worked so hard, and it just flopped.’”
More confusion crossed his face. “But that’s not what he said, was it? I mean, he said the faith part is putting it in God’s hands and not trying to do it yourself. At least I think that’s what he was saying.”
She thought about that, leaned forward, and took a drink. “Maybe that’s my problem.” She sat back again, thinking it all the way through. “Maybe I’m trying to do too much myself.”
He nodded. “Yeah, me too.”
“So how’s the story coming?” she asked at two when they broke for lunch. She had ditched the paper and was now just reading and taking notes on the two books. They were fascinating.
“Okay, I guess.” He scratched his ear as he closed the laptop.
She had come to know and accept that he was not going to let her read it. That much was now a given.
“Jasmine finally found the guy that lived out in the sticks, but he’s an ornery old coot. He nearly shot her too.”
“Man, she doesn’t exactly lead a quiet life, does she?” Liz went into the kitchen and found she only had Tuna Helper left in the cupboard. “How are you on tuna?”
At the door he shrugged. “Fine by me.” He went over to the cabinet and leaned on it to watch her and to help. “So how’s the book? The one you’re reading.”
“Great. It’s so interesting, you know?” She reached into the cabinet to get the tuna can, which she handed to him, and he went to work opening it. “Like, did you know that the prison system actually estimates the number of beds they need by how many kids can’t read by the third grade?”
The can slipped out of his hands and hit the counter. “No kidding?”
“Yeah, but the weird thing is some schools don’t even classify dyslexia as a learning disability. I mean, hello! Kid’s struggling over here. Do something!”
He handed her the tuna. “But what can they do? What can a school do if they figure out a kid has this?”
“Lots of things actually, but they all cost money. That’s the problem. The schools are understaffed the way it is. Teachers aren’t given real training in how to work with kids like this, so they are just kind of pushed off into the corner, passed on to the next grade and good luck. In fact, in that other book, the guy said his first grade teacher said not to worry about that he was having trouble reading because a lot of kids have trouble learning to read in first grade.”
“Do they get it then in second?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Do they? Or does the second grade teacher think they will get it in third and on and on until no one’s really done anything about it?”
“But there’s testing now, in the schools. You have to pass to go on.”
“Ah, yes. Enter the special ed teachers. Special ed used to be for those who really, really couldn’t do it. Now, the special ed teachers are reading the tests to the kids who could do it if they could read.”
“But they can’t read, so they can’t do it.”
“But they could if they could read... obviously because they can do it if someone else reads it for them.”
“Yeah, but does it help to read it to them and pass them because they know the stuff if they don’t really have the reading skills to do it themselves?”
Liz shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know. Does it?”
It was a question she struggled with the rest of the afternoon as she read more. The stumbling block for these kids was a lack of reading skills. Most, if not all, of them could do it if they could read it, but they couldn’t do it if reading was the real issue. Which led right back to why they couldn’t read in the first place and how to teach kids who couldn’t read to do so. Jake had gone to the restroom, so the room was quiet except for the noise of the traffic outside her window. She put her head back on the couch cushions and thought through everything she had learned. It was a maze with no real answer.
Then a thought hit her. “Okay, God. I’m here. This is my faith of a mustard seed.” She felt silly even saying the words, but she pushed that away and continued, “Do this for me. Show me what I’m missing here.”
The brochure. Her mind clicked on that image and held there. It had listed all of the services at the Literacy Center. Nothing else came, so she stood and went over to her backpack that was lying next to the wall in the dining room. Hoping it would still be in there, she picked the backpack up and stood to go back to the couch to find it. However, with one, single glance at his laptop, her whole world slammed to a stop. Her gaze narrowed on the sea of squiggly red and green lines as confusion laced with worry coursed from her head, slithering down into her heart. She stepped one small step closer and narrowed her gaze at the words.
Jasmin gav the man the tiket, hopeg he wud not notis the noch on the side.
Her breath hitched as skimming, her gaze took it all in as she fought to make sense of any of it. She heard the door open down the hall, and the sound jerked her upward and propelled her back to the couch where she plopped down. The backpack. Only then did she remember she still had it in her hand. She was looking for something in the backpack except she couldn’t remember what that something was.
“How’s it going?” Jake stopped at the back of the couch and leaned there as he brushed her shoulder with his hand.
“Oh, g-good.” Her hands shook so violently she could hardly manage the zipper. “You?”
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 skill
s. 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.”
Chapter 15
“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.
More Than This: Contemporary Christian Romance Novel Page 26