Closed Doors

by Nancy Radke

  He turned away from her, seeming to withdraw into himself. "I know better now," he said, gruffly.

  "Of course. Did you ever think of listening to books on tape?"

  He turned back, the frown turning into an expression of disgust. "Of course. I have an extensive tape library. I tried to teach myself to read that way... listening to the words, then looking at the print. I always get lost. With the Bible, even the words I knew didn't come out right."

  "You probably had a version that didn't match your tape."

  "That was all?" He shook his head. "I didn't think about that."

  "So you have read extensively, at least on tape."

  "Of course. But not all books are on tape. And that doesn’t help me at work.”

  Ellen looked around the dark room. "We need to get another lamp," she said. "Do you have one?"

  "This is good enough." He clicked on the small table lamp, pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Ellen looked down at the patch of light. It was going to be difficult maintaining a teacher-student relationship with this man. He was used to giving orders, not taking them.

  "We must have better lighting," she said with determination. Was he going to fight her on everything? "I will be using hand-written flash cards."

  "That doesn't matter. I have twenty-twenty vision."

  "But I can't read well enough with just that lamp...."

  "Oh, if you need it, I'll get one. My eyes get tired at the end of the day, so I prefer the dark."

  "I see. But I really need more light." Perhaps once he saw that more light made reading easier, he would admit it was a good idea.

  "Okay."

  He left, returned with a halogen floor lamp; plugged it in, turned it on. The shadows disappeared, making the room appear more cheerful. "There. That enough for you?"

  "Yes. Thanks." It would have been easier to just open the drapes again, but perhaps he had a neighbor near enough to see into the room. And of course, once the sun set, they would need artificial lighting.

  Jared resumed his seat and Ellen sat down opposite him.

  "Let's start," she said. "I've learned that some reading barriers can be cured with a simple rule or two, such as ‘The letter “d” turns its back on the word.’ So let's check out the alphabet and make sure you have letter recognition first."

  She did and Jared had no trouble differentiating between "q" and "p" and other troublesome letters, but he had failed to learn certain letter sounds when they were put into combinations, like the 'th' sound.

  She made a note of those he had trouble with, then showed him three endings that caused confusion: -ion, -sion, and -tion.

  "They all sound the same," he remarked.

  "Usually. Welcome to the English language."

  He grinned and rubbed his eyes. "That's something I didn't know."

  "I'll write fifteen words down on these blank flash cards, using those endings, and see if you can learn them."

  She did. He did. His memorization abilities were so great, she became even more confused. He did not switch "saw" and "was," so did not appear to be dyslexic. How had he not learned to read in all this time? She had written these words pretty large. Was it the size of the print?

  She pulled out a different set of children's lesson sheets, ones with large, one-inch letters, and asked him to read them. Halfway through he started to flounder. He gave up and stared at her in frustration.

  "Let's take a break," he said.

  "Oh, well... we just got started, but a drink of water would be welcome." It would also be an ideal time to lay down some ground rules. Already he had tricked her into reading a sentence for him.

  He rose and stepped around the table, standing over her as she laid the sheets down in numerical order. He was close; so close she could smell the sweet spice of his after-shave, feel the soft cotton of his blue jeans brushing against the fine hairs of her arm. It triggered an instant glow that networked within her body until it was suffused with warmth.

  Disconcerted, she shuffled the sheets, putting them out of order. That only rattled her more, so she re-stacked them, trying to calm her reactions which were as scrambled as the sheets.

  She felt his hand fall lightly to her shoulder, resting among the soft neck hairs that had come loose from her French twist. A flush of warmth coursed through her body, further undoing her efforts to compose herself. This jangled sensation had definitely not been a problem when teaching children.

  "Leave those," he commanded. "We'll come back." He shifted his hand to the back of her chair, releasing her from the magnetism of his touch. One finger, no more, had brushed the bare skin of her neck, but it had seared the spot and thrown her emotions into a riot—an impact far greater than a casual contact should warrant.

  Pulling her chair back, he waited politely as she preceded him. "Kitchen's to your right," he murmured as she hesitated.

  He followed her, making her acutely aware of the swing of her hips, the awkwardness of having her arms free, hands dangling, without a glass or book or some object to hold. Like a person getting a portrait taken, she did not know what to do with her hands and finally clasped them together, as if hugging herself.

  Jared Steel. Just to be close to him was exciting. Already she felt the vibrations between them, although it could be just sympathy, resulting from his great need. If she ignored any feeling she was beginning to have for him, it would go away, wouldn't it? Wouldn’t it? She would feel more at ease once she knew him better, she decided—and walked right past the open kitchen doorway.

  "In here." He waited for her to switch directions, then followed her in.

  Ellen looked around with envy. The way to a man's heart might be through his stomach, but this room would be the way to a woman's. An open fireplace dominated one wall near the eating area, its sand-colored bricks glowing warm in the incandescent lighting. This plus wooden cabinets transformed the large kitchen into a cozy refuge of warmth and comfort. Two skylights—one over the cooking island and the other over the table—made this the first room she had seen in his house with enough lighting to satisfy her.

  "How lovely!"

  Jared looked about the familiar room, seeing it afresh through her eyes. He had always found it a happy spot... a place where he felt relaxed. Content. Wanted. "I spend a lot of time in here."

  "I don't blame you. It's welcoming."

  He searched for something to offer her. He stocked health-food items mainly, some of which called for an acquired taste. He needed to find out what she liked, have it ready for her when she came.

  "Is water okay?" he asked, motioning to a five-gallon bottle of spring water. “Or would you rather have—"

  "Water’s fine." Her eyes, their green matching the color of the water bottle, smiled her acceptance, and Jared glanced away quickly. It was awkward having a beautiful woman as a teacher. It made it hard to think... and totally destroyed his concentration.

  He filled a pint glass for each of them and handed one to her. She almost dropped it as their fingers touched, using her other hand to save it.

  So, she was not immune to him after all. Jared smiled to himself. He had hoped she felt the same stirring of interest that had sent him hurrying home sooner than normal. Yet, how could she like him now that she knew his secret? Could it be... was it pity?

  He drank his water, then blended up some protein powder. He did not need it. Did not want it. But it occupied him for a minute while he considered her reaction.

  He had become adept at dissecting people, prying out their hidden motives, sensing their emotions. But with Ellen, he felt unsure. She knew he couldn’t read, so how could she be impressed by him? Everything he did was tainted by his inability to read. It dogged all his relationships, in one way or another.

  "Want one?" he offered, holding up the can of powder.

  "No, thanks. I'm not hungry." To him, her eyes seemed as refreshing as the cool water.

  He noticed her looking at the picture of the bodybuilder on the can.
"Are you into any sports yourself?" he asked, needing to learn more about her.

  "Swimming and skiing."

  He nodded. Her slim, well-toned figure reflected the fact.

  "My brothers all lift weights," she added.

  "How many brothers?"

  "Three. All younger. They compete against each other."

  He remembered how competitive Richard had been; and how that competition had forced him to do better than he might have done. He looked down at his arm, glad that it was not skinny.

  "Well, let me see your muscles," she teased with a smile, and his heart swelled with pride.

  Pulling up the short sleeve, he flexed his biceps. They bulged in all the appropriate places, their mass impressive enough to most women. He was not huge, but he was well defined, and proud of the shape he kept himself in. With a grin that mocked himself, he asked, "Can they equal this?"

  "Probably. I'm not much of a judge."

  He brushed his sleeve back down. "I've been at it twelve years. Now I work at maintaining what I've got and building the smaller muscles."

  "That also applies to reading, you know."

  "What does?"

  "It takes time, and lots of effort to learn to read. It will be like building your muscles. You can't expect instant results... and there's going to be a lot of hard work."

  "Huh. Little children learn to read fast."

  "Little kids can learn anything amazingly fast if it's presented in the right way. Languages, math, reading, the violin.... It's all harder for adults. But I need to get something straight."

  "Like what?"

  "Yesterday you spoke of a crash course. There isn't such an animal. There is just hard work. Are you prepared to commit to that?"

  "Yes."

  "Over several years?"

  "Not if I can help it. I have to learn, now."

  "Well, you stuck to your weight lifting. Most people don't. Just stop trying to trick me into reading for you."

  "I'll stop," he promised, nodding. He’d have to reverse a life-long habit, but he felt sure he could do it.

  "You want to bet on that?" Ellen challenged, knowing that for any man, a bet was almost guaranteed to elicit effort. If she could get him to bet on the things she wanted him to do, it would make her job easier. "I bet you can’t make it through a lesson without trying to get me to read for you.”

  His dark gray eyes—the color of quicksilver—flashed, joining his lips to form a lopsided smile. "A challenge, eh? What shall we bet?"

  "Not much. Five dollars?"

  "A good bet shouldn't involve money." His eyes gleamed seductively. "How about a kiss?" His gaze lingered on her lips, still moist with the water she had drunk.

  That wasn’t why she had challenged him. Feeling caught in her own trap, Ellen took a step backward, trying to regain control of her thoughts. Her heart was stumbling all over itself—because she wanted to accept. She delighted in the sparks they struck off each other.

  When he showed her his muscles, Ellen had felt herself purr inaudibly with admiration. She had teased her brothers about lifting weights to attract the girls. Now she realized just how very attractive a well-sculpted, manly physique could be—at least on this man.

  If they were to maintain a teacher-student relationship, she had better not let him know he interested her in that way. At least not until after he learned to read.

  And how long would that take?

  Suddenly anxious to get back to work, she set her empty glass on the kitchen counter with a thump, then glanced up at him, realizing they still had to settle on the bet. "Let's... uh, change that to a baseball game or a movie. If you make it for a week without trying to trick me, I'll buy." That would never happen.

  He grinned, an eyebrow flicking expressively upward. "I like my stakes... better."

  Sensitive to his ultra-masculine presence, she became aware of each word she said, each object she touched, each move he made. It was like standing on the edge of reality, with all sensations registering at once. Overwhelming in intensity. Even breathing became a challenge, no longer automatic and natural.

  She bit on her lower lip to steady her whirling emotions. Did he realize what effect he had on her? "With your stakes, we wouldn't get any studying done." The anticipation alone would drive her to distraction... at the least. "Let's choose a stake we can both be comfortable with."

  "All right." He hesitated a brief moment, then said with a mischievous smile, "If I trick you, I'll take you sailing."

  "That's great. If you win, I'll take you to a restaurant, my treat."

  "No. That won't work. I don't want to be seen with you."

  "Why not?" Ellen demanded, deeply hurt by his snub. After all, he had just asked for a kiss. Did he think she was good enough to kiss—and to teach him—but not good enough—perhaps not pretty enough—to be seen with him in public? She stared at him, dreading his answer.

  *5*

  Ellen wanted Jared to like her, whether he needed her or not. She looked at him as he stared down at the kitchen floor, his foot drawing circles on the tile. She wondered if he was going to give her a straight answer or try to come up with an excuse.

  He looked back up before he spoke, his gaze troubled. "It's not you, as such. I... I just don't want people wondering, 'What is Jared Steel doing with a reading tutor?'"

  "People would think I was only a friend," she scoffed, finding his ‘reason’ hard to believe. Was he so used to lying that he could not tell her the truth—that he did not want her around socially? "No one would notice."

  "One would, if she saw us."

  "Who?"

  "Angelique."

  The name, spoken flatly and with distaste, conjured up an image of a woman in red, using a long cigarette holder and draped in rhinestones. "And she is...?"

  "A society reporter for the local newspaper who delights in rattling cages. If she spots us together, even once, she'll be after a story."

  The image disappeared. "But there wouldn't be any—"

  "She's clever. It wouldn't be hard for her to find out you're a tutor, talk with my old teachers, and put two and two together. We'll need to keep a low profile, whatever we do. I'm very much a public figure; she'd love to get a hold on me."

  Public figure? "I realize you're wealthy, but what makes you news-worthy? A yacht builder shouldn't—"

  "The Pullman-Steel Show."

  "What?" She was unprepared for the change in subject.

  "You might have heard of it. It's on TV. Sundays. I do the—"

  "Oh. Oh! You... you're that Jared Steel!" She gazed at him in astonishment, completely overwhelmed by his accomplishments. Now she knew why she had found his face familiar. "I've watched it. Quite a few times. Even though I've never felt in need of business advice."

  "John Pullman gives the report and I give the analysis. I've never told him I wing it from what he says. He thinks I come in with a memorized script. We have a large viewing audience."

  "My dad watches your show faithfully."

  "I know people in the media are not respected very much, but I've built a reputation for being honest, for being able to spot trends and give accurate advice. I can't have my integrity challenged. Worse, I can't have people knowing I can't read."

  "I see." It explained why he had double-checked her car when she arrived. He might have a good reason for his caution, but she still felt he was overreacting. "Surely this Angelique would understand if you told her."

  "Not her. She hates me."

  "But why?" Ellen found it hard to believe. There had to be a reason.

  He rubbed his eyes slowly, his fingers outspread, covering his face. "Revenge. We were in school together... from elementary all the way through high school. She was an aggressive kid, always into everything. Wanted to help. Wanted to know what everyone was doing. She also talked about people. Constantly."

  "Just what you didn't need."

  "Right. She kept trying to latch onto me. I was downright mean to her during grade school;
I didn't know how else to protect myself. She came awfully close to guessing my secret. She never gave up. So I drove her off by being obnoxious."

  "I think I've read her column. It's carried in the Eastside newspapers, isn't it? Sort of a 'Who's doing what in the area?'"

  "That's it. She's a good reporter, which is why I'm scared of her. I got pretty nasty our senior year and I've paid for it ever since. Anything I do that's at all questionable hits the top of her column."

  "But if she knew it was due to your not being able to read...."

  "If she found out, she'd broadcast it far and wide. It would be picked up by the larger Seattle papers. Jared Steel, yacht builder and business adviser, can't read the contract he just signed. I'd lose all credibility. Be the laughing stock of Seattle."

  She nodded. "Tar and feathered."

  "Ridden out on a rail."

  Deciding his paranoia was well-founded, Ellen said, "Okay. Restaurants are out. How about an ultra-special home-cooked meal?"

  "You're on."

  "Great."

  "I'm ready to get back to work. Are you?"

  "Yes."

  They walked together down the hall, past the picture of his family and Ellen paused to glance at it once more.

  "Didn't your parents ever try to find out why you weren't able to read?" she asked.

  He shrugged. "They had me tested, once. Second grade. Dad decided I was too dumb, and Mom was never around enough to care. She figured I'd learn when I got ready to try hard enough."

  "Are you sure? My parents have their faults, but they would have tried all possibilities until they found out why any of their five children had a problem. Sometimes kids don't always understand what their parents say."

  "Oh, I heard right." He spoke bitterly, his voice harsh and guttural with a hurt borne silently through the years. "I'll never forget what Dad said. 'That boy won't amount to anything; he's too dumb to learn!' He was too busy at the time to teach me himself, and the woman he hired to try to improve my grades couldn't get me to open my mouth. I was convinced I was dumb, you see, so what was the use of trying. So I learned to trick them; all of them."

  Ellen had heard this before from children she had taught. She knew the best way to erase the past memories of lost opportunities, of frustration and heartache, was to lift her student to success. Success; where Jared Steel could spit in the eye of a world he viewed as laughing at him. When he could say to everyone, "See, I did it!" She wanted to be the one to help him succeed.