Closed Doors

by Nancy Radke

  "You, not me,” she protested. “You have to do it for yourself. Learning is hard work and—"

  "Not play?" His glance, keenly speculative with a hint of mischief, lingered on her, and her heartbeat accelerated like a motor with the throttle on full.

  Flustered by her reaction, she hastily stomped down the excitement within her. This was becoming impossible—there was no way she could answer that and be able to teach him later, so she acted like she misunderstood.

  "I have some reading games, but I didn't bring them." She made her voice prim and starched: the teacher’s barrier.

  "I wasn't talking about that."

  She knew he wasn’t; but they were alone in his house; would be alone during the upcoming sessions. She was deeply committed to this man already. It would be easy to add fuel to temptation.

  Pushing himself back from the table, he said, "We’ll break for a while. How about coffee? Or tea? Or are you a water person?"

  "I... uh... I think I’d better leave. It’s late. Why don't you bring... uh, some papers or letters from your office tomorrow. They'd contain the words you need to learn first."

  "Done."

  "Then, goodbye. I'm gone."

  He walked her to the door. "See you tomorrow."

  Passing through, she stepped into the sunlight, amazed at how swiftly time had passed. As if reluctant to see her go, Jared followed her up the steps to her car, making her all too aware of him as he walked closely behind. The heightened sensitivity made her quicken her pace. They reached the top and she turned.

  "Good-bye. See you at four."

  He nodded, opened her door for her, held it a moment after she entered, then shut it. He was frowning and she wondered what bothered him, but said "good-bye," rather than ask. She drove away, tired, yet regretting having to leave. There was much about him that attracted her. Physically and mentally.

  Strange how his problem made Jared more attractive... or was it his struggle that appealed to her? He approached reading as a mountain to climb. Grim and serious, he would probably resist all her efforts to make learning fun. He did not need motivation; he needed something to help him relax.

  It was like teaching a smoldering volcano. She had students who smoldered because they resented reading, but Jared was different. Intense, driven, desperate... it burned out of his eyes—those expressive eyes—and his actions... the way he clenched his teeth while struggling with a word. There was no way she could ease that. He was vulnerable to the first person who discovered he could not read above first grade level.

  Tomorrow she would search her reference books and see if she could pinpoint his problem. Someone must have come across his particular reading pattern.

  Although he might become her toughest challenge, she looked forward to being with him... teaching him, anticipating his joy when he learned the reading code. She felt like a fairy godmother with a magic wand that could unlock this man's life and set him free.

  Jared stood in the driveway for a long time after Ellen left. He felt exhausted, drained. He hated the pity in her eyes. He didn’t need pity, he needed help.

  She held his future in her hands. She had integrity—otherwise she would have taken his highest offer, maybe even held out for more. Therefore, she would try to keep his secret. But could she?

  She had pried into his past, but he had no knowledge of hers. Just how stable was she? As far as he was concerned, women were constant talkers... always wanting to share their secrets. She was so young, she could easily mention that she was tutoring a man who could not read... and then later give away his identity, perhaps by accident. It wouldn’t take much.

  Consumed with worry, he stared up the road, willing her to return. Knowing that was futile, he wandered down around the house, out onto the dock. To the Sea Sprite.

  His sailboat. His refuge. He always ended up here.

  Jared stepped into the small sloop and stroked his hand across the smooth wood. The boat gently rocked beneath him as if in welcome and he felt his mind start to ease.

  He had started something that could alter his life... and there was no way to stop it. He had to finish this, no matter what. He felt almost fatalistic in his acceptance—and if his mouth weren’t so dry, he might even tell himself he was in control.

  Taking a deep breath, he dropped the centerboard, then released the lines tying the Sea Sprite to the dock. An off-shore breeze blew, gentle on his face as he checked his equipment, finding comfort in the familiar task. Next he unfurled the main sail, set the jib. He pushed the tiller slightly and the sails filled, carrying the sloop out onto the ruffled waters.

  He had left himself wide open. She would either help him or ruin him. He feared it would be the latter.

  Unlocking the door to her rented apartment, Ellen picked up her box of linens and stepped inside, still thinking about Jared.

  The teacher/student relationship forced its participants into a close, emotional bond—she had experienced it with every child she had taught. The hours Jared requested were not only long, they were night hours. She would not be able to teach this man without emotional involvement.

  Somehow she must try to keep a professional distance between them. Otherwise it would mean heartache for her, for as soon as Jared could read, he would have no more use for her. Her relationships always ended that way. Once taught, students rarely bothered to say, "Thank you." Boy-friends just stopped returning her calls. It always happened.

  The light flashed on her answering machine, which she had set up before anything else. Were there more replies to her ad? Dropping her box on a chair, she pushed the play button.

  "Honey. I need some milk and eggs from the store." It was her mother's voice, and Ellen felt her spirits sink. Not this. Not again. "Two dozen—you know how your dad loves eggs. Bring them over tonight so we can have them for breakfast."

  Ellen stared at the phone. It would take over a half-hour to drive there, get the items and deliver them to her mother. Yet she could not ignore the message; her mom would just keep calling. She dialed her parent's Renton phone number.

  "Hi, Mom." She tried to sound cheerful.

  "Ellen. Where have you been?" Her mother sounded like she expected Ellen to be by the phone, waiting for her call.

  "Interviewing for a tutoring job. Look Mom—"

  "Did you get it?”

  “What? The job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Uh... yes... I did.”

  “Where? Anywhere close?”

  “No, not really.” She had forgotten how pressing her mother could be, trying to find out what went on in each of her children’s lives. And her father, too, when the notion took him. She wasn’t a smooth liar, usually got found out, so she had better be careful when covering for Jared.

  “Kent? Seattle? Bellevue?”

  “Uh, Mercer Island.” That shouldn’t give anything away.

  “Then you won’t be too far. Any other calls?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I know it's late, but if you haven't had dinner yet, you come eat with us. You don't live that much further away."

  "I still have to unpack."

  "Then you need a good meal. I won't take 'no' for an answer."

  "I was just there two days ago."

  "I bet you don't have any food in."

  "Yes, I got a pizza on my way home and—"

  "It'll keep. I need the milk and eggs anyway. It's not that much for you to do. My arthritis has flared up again, and you know how that hurts."

  As always, Ellen felt her resistance melting, but she gave it one more try. "Why can't Dad get them?"

  "Your father doesn't want to grocery shop after he's managed the store all day."

  "Then how about Stan?" Her oldest brother lived only two miles away.

  "He's working nights. Bret doesn't have his license yet."

  And Matthew had moved out of state. With sports and other commitments, her three brothers never seemed available.

  "Once I start working, I'm
not going to be able to run errands for you,” Ellen warned.

  "All the more reason to come now," her mother responded. "Soon you really won't have time for us."

  That would be true in two months. Ellen could see her calendar filled up trying to teach school during the day and Jared at night. "Okay. But I have to leave early."

  "Of course, dear. And while you’re here, you can tell me all about your new job.

  *4*

  As usual, Ellen was unable to leave her parents’ house early. By the time she helped her mother cook a meal and wash up afterwards, trim the toenails on their miniature poodle, locate a newspaper clipping, and water the houseplants, it was past midnight. Consequently, she slept late the next day, ate cold pizza for brunch, then unloaded her car. It left no time for the research she had planned to do into Jared's problem. She felt frustrated, knowing she wasn't giving him her best.

  Throwing on a cool summer sundress, she left early, stopped for a fast-food hamburger and then whizzed along to his home, glad to be driving opposite the heavy afternoon commute. She licked away the last of the mustard as she turned onto the freeway exit on the island, and paused long enough in a handy pull-out for a quick glance in the mirror. It wouldn’t do to show up with mustard on her nose. Not the sort of impression she wanted to make.

  Jared stood waiting at the top of the long driveway, dressed in jeans and a white polo shirt, his smile welcoming. It was still ten minutes before four, but evidently he was as anxious to begin as she. Or could it be that he wanted to see her—as a person—and not just as a reading tutor? She hoped so. She smiled back, happily.

  He motioned for her to drive down the steep slope and into the garage. "It's been a scorcher today, might as well put it in the shade," he said.

  The open door revealed room for four cars, with little of the junk most garages accumulate. Only one space was occupied. She parked next to a Jeep Wrangler—dark blue, with Washington license plates—and got out.

  Envy struck first; she had always wanted a Jeep. Then the obvious question: "How'd you get your driver's license?"

  Jared closed the large door, dropping them into the dark for a moment until he flipped on the lights. "It took a little planning. I had some teen-age friends at the time who were taking driver's ed. along with me." He walked over to stand next to her and placed one hand on the Jeep's hood. "I was going to get my license or else. We 'borrowed' a copy of the test form and practiced on it. I had one of them read it aloud while the rest of us discussed the answers."

  "But that's dishonest," she protested.

  "For them, maybe. For me, it meant getting past the system. I had to have my license."

  "But they have several different tests. And since you couldn't read...."

  "There's nothing wrong with my memory. I memorized the test as they read it. My group all went in on the same day and I managed to trade for the version we practiced on. Then it was easy. I made sure I missed a couple."

  "It still wasn't honest."

  He looked smug. "I knew the answers, didn't I?"

  "Well, yes."

  "Probably better than anyone else. And I've never had an accident." He stepped past her, indicating she should follow. "Come on."

  Ellen could understand his rationale, but it still did not seem honest to her. A test was supposed to be just that. If he had admitted he could not read, the examiners would have read it to him, wouldn't they? Or would they deny him the right to drive?

  As she followed Jared through the garage to the door at the other side, she realized she had never considered the things adult non-readers were prevented from doing. It was as if all those who could read closed the doors, denying the non-reader access to their world unless he either learned to read or cheated his way past.

  Jared lived behind those barriers, forced to bluff his way through life. It was up to her to open them. And open them she would, even if she had to kick them down.

  They passed into a large weight room complete with hardwood floors, a treadmill, stair machine and universal gym. Along one wall was a rack for free weights. Above these were several clerestory windows, opened to allow the summer heat to escape.

  Ellen stopped. "Wow."

  "You like it?"

  "You weren't kidding when you said you worked out. This is quite a set-up."

  "Thanks. I started in high school with the free weights and gradually added the rest. It's a good way to deal with tension. Covering my tracks all the time... keeping people unaware... consumes a lot of nervous energy."

  Ellen nodded, remembering the debilitating behavior he had shown the day before. Jared had plenty of tension to work off. No wonder he stayed so fit, his muscles rippling as he walked with the grace and power of a panther.

  The treadmill would be perfect to run on when mentally tired. “Would it be okay for me to use this now and then... after some of our sessions burn us out?”

  “Sure. I’ll join you.”

  “I’ve never been able to afford the prices most health clubs asked, so do my running along the sides of roads.”

  “This is safer... plus there’s no exhaust to breathe.”

  She nodded. "What other sports did you do in high school?" With his athletic build he would have made a good football player—the attractive kind that always had a gorgeous cheerleader dangling from each muscular arm.

  "None," he surprised her by saying. "I wasn't fast enough for track."

  "Football?"

  "No. They use those "x's" and "o’s" and I knew I wouldn't be able to read them."

  "But you don't need to read to understand those," she protested, puzzled by his answer. Football plays looked complicated, but with Jared's memory, he shouldn’t have had any trouble.

  "I just knew I couldn't do it. I don't see how other people can." He pushed open the next door and motioned her through. "Come on. I want to get started."

  They went down a small staircase into the rest of the hillside house. Ellen was ahead and she stopped, uncertain of her way. "Where...?"

  "This way." He led her past a neatly kept laundry room and into the hall with the grandfather clock.

  "You didn't say anything to anyone, did you?" he asked, a hint of worry edging his voice.

  "No," she answered, remembering her struggle last night to evade her parents’ questions. She had not known how hard it would be to keep his secret. All during her visit, Ellen had to steer the subject away from her new job. The more she hedged, the harder her mother pushed.

  "Do you have any hobbies, besides your weights, that is?" she asked as they walked along.

  "I sail. Have you ever been out?"

  "No. I've been on a motorboat several times—a big one—but never a sailboat."

  "I'd rather sail than anything. It's like another world. Just me and the wind and the water." He rolled the words off, as if savoring each element.

  Ellen could easily picture him at the tiller driving through a storm, head thrown back, eyes defiant, his dark brown hair whipped by the gale as he guided his boat through the crashing waves. Master of his universe. It would be one area of his life where he could excel without worrying about anyone asking him to read.

  A collection of photographs hung on the wall near the clock and Ellen stopped to look at them. "Your family?" she asked, spotting Jared in them.

  "Yes. That's my dad and mom," he said, pointing to an elderly couple who looked happy and satisfied with life. "My brother and his wife there, and my sister, Meg, and her kids. That was taken about three years ago. Her kids are in school now. My sister raked in all the honors in the family."

  "Do they all sail?" Ellen asked, filing away the side reference to his sister's achievements. Comparisons hurt.

  "Just my Dad. He taught me. We built the boat and then sailed it. It's the only real thing we ever did together. Everything else, he did with Richard."

  Hearing the resentment in his tone, Ellen could imagine the frustration Jared felt. He thought he had been ignored by his father, and w
hether it was true or not, his feelings would have reflected that image. Sailing would have provided some relief from the helplessness of his situation. Out there he was in control. Evidently, it had kept him going all these years.

  "I bought this house from my folks when they moved," he added.

  "It's a beautiful home." She turned away from the photos and stepped into the library, noticing for the first time its unused, musty smell. Jared followed her, standing close enough to touch, and she found her pulse accelerating at his nearness. He fascinated her, making her want to learn as much as she could. "Where are your parents now?"

  "In Broadmoor. My dad lost the use of his legs in a car accident and he needed a home that was wheelchair friendly." He pointed to the full shelves. "These were their books. I come in and run my hands over the titles. And sometimes..." he paused, then stepped closer to the bookcase and soothed his hand across the back of War and Peace.

  "Yes?"

  Jared's gaze met hers, his soul open for her to see. "Sometimes... I open the books and stare at the words." His voice grew quieter, almost a whisper. "As if by some miracle I might know what they're saying.” He paused, glancing down to where his fingers stroked the titles. “You know what I mean?"

  "Yes. I do."

  "Especially this one." He reached out and picked up a copy of the Bible, turning it reverently around in his hand. "So many preachers on the radio say so many conflicting things. How can you ever know who's right if you can't read?" His gaze probed her mind. "Will I ever be able to read this?" He thrust the volume into her hands.

  It was an old edition with his sister's name on the cover, its pages tattered and dog-eared. Ellen had never bothered reading it through. His hunger made her feel ashamed of the fact.

  "I can't promise you anything, Jared, but if I can teach you to read, then, yes, you'll be able to read this."

  He looked down, scuffing his foot on the floor. "I used to wonder, as a child, if God would allow people into heaven who couldn't read His book." He looked up at her, and his eyes revealed the pain of those dark days.

  "Oh, Jared!" Ellen fought against the tears that threatened to flow. It was hard not to feel sad for the boy he used to be, and the secretive man he had become.