Closed Doors

by Nancy Radke

  Ellen found herself shaking hard and collapsed onto the couch. She had failed Jared. All her promises to teach him to read, all the effort to give him hope... wasted. He would’ve been better off if she had never entered his life.

  Wiping her eyes, Ellen realized she was crying, the tears flowing with abandon down her cheeks. Her love would survive, tearing her apart through the lonely hours, but would Jared’s? She did not know how strong it was. She had probably destroyed it forever.

  She loved him enough to step back and let him handle this problem himself. She could stand it, if only she could be sure he would return to her eventually.

  Jared would probably never want to see her again, she'd made such a mess of things. She remembered her father's deep depression when he had been laid off his first job. How much more tragic, how severe, the blow to Jared. Worried, she knew she had to contact him, if nothing else to let him know she loved him. Perhaps it would be wise to call him and tell him that she would not interfere, but that she would always be there for him.

  Ellen shook her head. No, that was not the right thing to say to Jared. He'd take that the wrong way; she knew he would.

  Standing up, Ellen walked in circles, thinking. She did not want to imply that Jared couldn’t handle this himself, but she did want him to come back to her. Therefore, she had to phrase things carefully, asking him not to cut her off. He had already rejected her once today. She hoped she would not push him away forever with her call.

  Anxious she might say the wrong thing, she wrote it down: "I will stand aside and not interfere, just don't cut me off, please. I love you. I've been wrong."

  She dialed his number. The answering machine came on and she gave her name, said the words, then hung up.

  Wondering if she had done the right thing, she started to pick up the phone again, but snatched her hand away and walked purposely out of the room. Looking for some way to occupy her anguished thoughts, she put some CD’s into the player, then grabbed the first novel handy and opened it up. She made certain she could hear the phone if it rang, then started to read.

  Not caring whether the sail caught much wind, Jared thrust the tiller away from him. He was not trying to go anywhere. Just licking his wounds out in the middle of the lake.

  His mind replayed the scene at the office, then in the parking lot. Had Ellen really meant it, when she said she was through with him?

  Some people needed a prod rather than a hug when things got rough. It was the same as slapping a hysterical person. Maybe that was what Ellen had tried to do to him. Whatever her purpose, he should not have snapped at her. It was not her fault he was a loser.

  Loser, loser, loser! He might as well admit the truth. No matter how well he did anything, he lived on the edge of a perpetual storm, his ship in danger of sinking at a moment's notice.

  The sail luffed in the light breeze and flapped out its annoyance until he moved the tiller to correct it. Before coming out he had changed into shorts and an old T-shirt, but the flash of gold on his wrist alerted him to the fact that he had forgotten to change his watch. The numbers on the dial shifted as he glanced at them and he rubbed his eyes, trying to ease their discomfort. When the numbers still refused to stay motionless, he closed one eye, then read them easily. Ten after three.

  Why couldn't he read books like other people? What was wrong with him? Ellen demanded he see an optometrist. He might as well. He had nothing to hide anymore. Nothing at all. He might as well tell everybody. He couldn't hurt any worse than he was hurting now.

  Jared cried out, loudly, in anguish, trying to dispel his grief. Everything he'd struggled for, gone because of Larry. The destruction couldn't be any more complete.

  The taxes on his house would eventually destroy his savings. Once nothing was coming in, assets didn't last long, sucked like water from a bathtub. He should sell the house right away and put the proceeds into stocks... he had always done well on the market. That would give him an income until he could get a new job. Still, he wanted to work with boats; they were his whole life. He couldn’t imagine doing anything different.

  He stared with sightless gaze over the sunlit water. Should he move to a new town? No. Then it would look like he was as guilty as Larry. His good name was about all he had left.

  Good name—for how long? Richard probably wouldn't tell the workers why Jared was gone, so the crew would think he had been involved in the theft. After all, Larry had vanished, the police had come, and Jared was “fired.” Also Richard had stepped down, then reclaimed his position. The men were sure to put two and two together and get anything but the right answer. Rumor would take advantage of the circumstances. If he didn't straighten it up, no one would.

  He could tell the men he couldn't read, but would that help? Or would they pity him, too? Telling Richard had cleansed him of the thousands of lies he'd been forced to tell his brother. Perhaps telling the crew would clear up past misunderstandings, also.

  Somehow he had to prove to Richard that he was still an asset to the company, even if he never learned to read. He had hated the lies and subterfuge; he should have told Richard years ago. Larry's theft might have been prevented if Richard had known, for he could have acted as a backup, keeping an eye on finances.

  Jared let the quiet water calm him, as it had done countless times before. He thought best out in his boat, and his mind now focused on one person. Ellen. She believed in him. If he wanted to marry her, he had to get his life in order.

  Until he was completely honest with people, he could never guarantee that this wouldn't happen again. He would always be sitting on a ticking bomb, never knowing when it would explode. He didn't want Ellen to have to live a life of secrecy. He not only had to wipe the slate clean, he had to rebuild, even if it took him years before he was finally in control of his life. From now on, he would just tell people, "I'm sorry, I can't read."

  That meant telling everybody. His workers, his television producer.

  Angelique. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, then took a deep breath. That would make her day.

  Would Ellen, the only one who really mattered, wait for him? He could only hope so. Turning the Sea Sprite to catch the onshore breeze, he sailed speedily back to the dock. He needed to get started.

  Telling people was not going to be easy. Angelique would be the hardest, so he'd call her first.

  His hands were clammy and he wiped them off on his shorts. Once he told Angelique, it would mean the end of his television show, so he would call his producer right after he called her. Then he'd drive over and talk to Richard and try to make him understand why he hadn't told him. He'd tell his parents and sister tonight; the crew tomorrow when they came back to work.

  He would miss the TV show almost as much as building yachts. Besides being able to help people, it was the one place where he was not only equal to, but better than others, and recognized as an expert. Even though his partner could read, Jared was the star of the show.

  Letters had come in from grateful business owners and CEO's he'd helped with his advice. His producer had shared these letters with Jared, so he knew his tips had guided many.

  Reaching the dock, Jared reefed the sails and tied the little boat to the stanchions. The Sea Sprite bobbed on the water, its mast nodding back and forth as if approving his actions. He gave the boat a pat, then strode up to his home with grim resolve.

  Throwing open the kitchen door, he left it ajar as he dialed directory assistance and asked for the paper's phone number. He wrote it down; dialed. It went immediately to her voice mail, so Jared hung up, feeling a moment of reprieve.

  Once Angelique's Friday column came out, he would lose his TV show immediately. Who would want to take the word of a non-reader?

  The phone rang, but he waited for his answering machine to handle it. Ellen's voice came on, asking him to call back. His heart sang at the sound of her voice, but he left the phone cradled, not wanting any calls from her, any sympathy. It might weaken him; undo his resolve. He had
to overcome this by himself, without her help. Otherwise he would never feel like he could face her.

  There were other messages on the machine, so he played them back. Three were calls from salesmen, but the last was Ellen's first call.

  She still loved him. It was what he needed to know. As soon as he made his calls, he'd drive over there and explain what he'd done. If she was willing to let him handle this, then he didn’t have to stay away from her while his life disintegrated.

  He did not have her address—here at home—but it was in the personnel files at the office. He still had the key. He could look up her file, copy down the address, then hire a cab to take him to her house.

  The phone rang as he reached for it, ready to re-dial Angelique's number. He waited, listening, wondering if it was Ellen again. Could she no more wait than he, eager to be together?

  No. Richard's voice came on the machine. What did he want... the second key to the office? Rejecting the negative thought, Jared intercepted the call before his brother hung up.

  "What is it?" He ground out the words, too bitter to speak normally.

  Richard faltered, sounding unsure of his reception. "I was... I was... uh... well, I... I just wanted to talk to you.”

  “So?”

  “It's still hard to believe. Larry, of all people."

  "Yeah. You begin to wonder who you can trust."

  "You're right about that. It's... well it's hard to find honest help." Richard paused for a minute, then spoke just before Jared had decided he was finished. "I... I don't; well, I just don't feel right about what happened, Jared. We need to talk."

  Jared didn't want to talk. The bitterness was still within him, eating at him. "If it's about leaving the company—"

  "No... no. Not that."

  What else did they have to talk about? "Is it about Ellen?"

  "What she said? No. Not really."

  "Then what? I've decided to tell everyone... my producer, Angelique, the crew—"

  "Do you think that's wise?"

  "Why not? You've cut me out of the company; I at least—"

  "You could do sales again."

  "So? The way it looks now, if we don't give them an explanation, it still looks like I’ve been demoted."

  "But your producer? And Angelique? You know you love doing that show."

  "Not as much as I love building boats."

  "It means that much?"

  "Yes."

  "Why don't you come over? I'm at home."

  "Now? I'm on my way to see Ellen. I have to get her address from the personnel files."

  "I have them with me. Why don't you come here first, then go? We need to talk."

  "Well..." Jared didn't know if he could see Richard at the moment and keep himself from saying things he'd regret later. Still, his brother’s health was not up to any of this. If he needed his help, he had better give it. "Okay. I'll come."

  Hanging up, Jared took a deep breath and tried Angelique's number again. Still no answer.

  Now that he had decided to tell her, he couldn't stand to wait. So... he'd call the television station first instead of second. Get that over with.

  Unlike Humpty, he was going to put his life back together again. Somehow.

  He punched in the numbers of the station, listened as it rang.

  *23*

  The secretary recognized Jared’s voice; put him through to the producer, Collin Settle.

  “Settle here.”

  Collin always answered that way; thought it was a great joke. Jared did not smile.

  “Jared Steel.”

  “Hey, good to hear from you, man. I gave a copy of those letters I showed you the other day to our sales staff. Rave responses like that make their jobs easier. They’ve just renewed your main sponsor, and the head office is talking about having you do a daily show instead of just on Sunday. Could you swing that?”

  Clutching the receiver tighter, Jared rubbed his fingers across his forehead. Could he swing it? Yes. He was free as of today to do as many shows as they’d like. The temptation to stay silent, to not tell Collin about his inability to read, reared up, strong within him. Who would it hurt?

  Himself. And Ellen. He would be building another potential disaster, having it loom over his head. He was not going to do that again.

  “I’d love to take the job, Collin, but—“

  “Great. I’ll tell Ed.”

  “But there’s something you need to know first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I can’t read.”

  “What? You what? Say that again.”

  “I can’t read.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Collin’s voice grew progressively louder as Jared’s message hit him.

  “I can’t read. I let Ed do the report, then I’d do my market analysis from what he says.”

  “But I’ve... I’ve seen you read. On the show. You quote market figures.”

  “It’s all bluff. I memorize the numbers Ed gives... the ones I want to talk about.”

  Silence. Then, “This isn’t a joke, is it?”

  “No. No joke. I wish it were. I’ve never been able to read.”

  Collin groaned, trying to recover from the unexpected blow. “Why are you telling me this?” he pleaded.

  Jared smiled grimly, hearing the near panic in his producer’s voice. Collin did not want to deal with his problem. “I’ve decided I need to tell people, to start anew on a more open footing. I realize it can cost me my job.”

  “Well... it could. It could.”

  “I thought you should know.”

  “You’ve just taken a year off my life. Five years.”

  “I’m sorry, Collin. Do you want me to resign?”

  “Uh... no. No. Uh... let me think a minute here. This isn’t general knowledge, is it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then I don’t see why you shouldn’t continue on. Given the popularity of the show, I don’t care whether you can read or not, as long as you interpret the trends and give advice as well as you do. If people find out about it and start to complain, then that’s a different matter. Then we might have to let you go. My advice is for you to soft-play this. The fewer who know, the better.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Just keep it quiet. Please!”

  Jared laughed grimly to himself as he hung up. Angelique would take care of that in a hurry. Maybe he should just announce it on the program. Then he wouldn’t have to call her.

  No. He’d decided to do it this way—and he would. Wiping the sweat off his hands, he dialed again.

  He got through this time. “Angelique? This is Jared Steel.”

  “Ah... you read my latest article.” Her voice purred in satisfaction.

  “That’s not what I’m calling about. I thought I’d give you a scoop you’d kill for.” He paused, then took the plunge. For Ellen. All for Ellen. “I can’t read.”

  “You what?” Angelique sounded puzzled.

  “I can’t read. I never could.” There it was said. Cold sweat covered his entire body and he took a deep breath to steady himself, braced to endure her scorn.

  There was silence at the other end of the line. Jared could picture her, eagerly reaching for her pad and pen. He said it over again. “I can’t read. Not much anyway. I’m learning. Trying to,” he added.

  “Really?” She sounded shocked.

  “Yes.”

  “All this time,” she said, her voice edged with wonder. “So that’s why you were so touchy.”

  “Yes.”

  “No wonder you fought the teachers... and me. I never guessed.”

  “You tended to get too close,” he admitted. “Even as a child, you had a reporter’s curiosity.”

  “That’s for sure. What brought this out into the open?” she asked, her voice edged with suspicion.

  “Ellen. She’s teaching me to read. I can handle the exposure now. I think.”

  “Your office manager? How interesting.”

  “My
tutor. She agreed to work in the office for me until I could read better.”

  “That explains a lot of things. Well, how are you doing?”

  “Not very well, I’m afraid. It’s a long process.”

  “I see.” She sounded disgusted and it took Jared aback. She should be shouting with glee.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You. You dog, Jared. I finally get my story of the year, and I can’t print it.”

  Had he heard right? “Can’t?”

  “Won’t.” She laughed at the admission, a harsh sound, as if she’d once been ridiculed for her ethics. “Even I have a limit. I absolutely will not write about personal problems that a man—or woman—has no control over. And this does not sound like something that would be your fault.”

  He looked upward in thanks as the burden of a lifetime dropped away, leaving him weak, shaken. “Thank you.”

  “Well... in a way... thank you. You kept me on my toes, you know, wondering what you were hiding. I could sense it, but never uncover it.”

  “I imagined you would take great delight in telling everyone about me.”

  “I don’t write things like that, although I’ve lost some good stories along the way because of my rule.”

  “But you can live with yourself and that’s what counts.”

  “Tell that to my editor. Anyway, I think it’s wonderful you’ve managed as well as you have. Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re still fair game in everything else, you know.”

  “I don’t care about everything else. Write away.”

  She laughed, light and easy this time. “See you in the papers, then.”

  “If I ever get ready to announce it publicly, I’ll let you do it, okay?”

  “That’s a winner.”

  Jared hung up. Throwing up his hands, he let out a wild whoop of joy, then ran into the garage for his car. As long as he had the television job, he could ask Ellen to marry him.

  Reality set in as he drove to Richard’s home in Laurelhurst. So far, the people he had told were prepared to keep his secret, but it still took just one person to spread the word through the general public, and he’d lose the TV job also.