by Nancy Radke
The walnut-paneled entrance contained some original oil paintings—a good selection of Northwest artists. Very beautiful, but the quiet perfection made her wonder.
This was no kind of house for a child. No toys appeared on the hall’s marble floor; no dropped books, no smelly tennis shoes. No scuff marks on the wall or melted chocolate sticky on the doorknobs. No laughter. No noise. No pets.
Not a welcoming house at all... at least not to her. Ellen’s childhood home had been cluttered with toys and sports equipment. With five children and two dogs growing up inside, it had glowed with life and laughter.
The phone rang, but Mr. Steel didn’t answer; just waited for the message: Angelique, trying to catch him at home. She didn’t leave a number and he made no move to pick it up.
Shaking his head, he stalked down the long hall past a kitchen entrance and into a dining room. “We can talk in here,” he said, motioning Ellen inside.
Ellen hesitated to let her eyes adjust to the lack of light before she entered. It contained a table long enough to seat fourteen. Dark wood paneling and heavy, full-length drapes kept things cool... and dark.
This home unsettled her, as if a brooding presence lived within—a dark frustration lurking in the dim corners. It might have been a result of reading too many gothic novels, but she didn’t think so. She disliked dark houses, and this one had an atmosphere that intensified the darkness.
Or was she picking up these vibes from the man himself, who paced restlessly around, clasping and unclasping his hands, finding nowhere to put them?
“Could we have a little more light?” she asked, patting the French twist that kept her fine hair under control.
“Oh. Uh...sure.” Jerking around, he separated the drapes a crack. “I don’t like the glare.”
The shaft of light brought out the deep tones of the wood and the glitter of the overhead chandelier, chasing away her fanciful emotions. He probably didn’t use this room much and left the curtains drawn to prevent fading.
He pulled out a chair for her and Ellen sat down, feeling dwarfed by the table. Definitely not a family gathering place. Come to think of it, most of their lives were probably lived in another part of this big house; hence the silent perfection of this area. She wondered how Mr. Steel would react to some of the teaching games she used, which tended to get rambunctious. Her students didn’t exactly swing from the chandeliers, but she had found that relaxed students, having fun, learned faster.
“Where’s your son?” she asked, dismissing the visual image of a child turning somersaults on this huge table. They could find a friendlier room for their lessons.
“Later. I need to know a few things first,” he declared, plunking himself down opposite. “Like what kind of reading problems you’ve handled.” Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on the highly polished table, as if closing the gap between them would help him examine her qualifications. His rigid soldier-stiff pose implied he required more assurance than usual.
Having dealt with distraught parents before, Ellen’s nervousness fled. She smiled. “Each child is unique. I tailor my teaching to their problem. I need to—”
“You said you had references. May I see them?”
Like ice water on hot skin, his interruption jarred the progress of her thoughts and she stopped, regrouped.
“Well?”
“Uh... yes.” She removed the documents from her briefcase, handed them over. “Here’s my diploma, transcript, and teaching certificate.”
Taking the papers with a frown, he glanced over their fancy scrolled words as she continued.
“I graduated with a MA in education from Virginia Tech, but my tutoring has given me a lot of experience apart from that. I teach fifty to seventy students a year.”
“In your ad you said you guarantee your work.”
“Yes. You must be satisfied with your son’s progress.”
“Hmm.” He examined her papers with great care, then handed them back. “Have you any other jobs this summer?”
“Not yet. Yours was the first call.”
“Good. I’d like to hire you exclusively.”
Ellen’s smile flattened. “Oh, I can’t do that. I need more than one tutoring job. You see, a session should never last over two hours. More, and we will just be wasting time. A child’s attention span isn’t that great.”
“I’m willing to pay four hundred a day.”
“For two hours?” She sat up straighter. “My fee is fifty dollars an hour. If you want to pay me more, that’s fine, but I don’t ask for it.”
“Six hundred. You won’t need another job.”
“Mr. Steel!”
“Seven hundred... a day.”
Ellen stared at him. Crazy as well as rich? No; his level gaze told her he was sane... and proud. Serious... and desperate. His eyes glowed with almost hypnotic intensity. In them she could read a cry for understanding.
She recognized that hidden cry. She had seen it before in the eyes of children hurt and bewildered by the education process... and in parents who did not know where to turn. As much as her heart reached out to answer his unspoken plea, she could not answer it... yet. For some unknown reason his child might be unteachable—at least by her.
“I can’t agree to anything without some testing.”
“How professional are you?” he demanded.
Ellen hastily placed a tight hold on her simmering emotions. Her features might be dainty, but her temper was not. “I consider myself very professional.”
“You do?” He sounded doubtful.
For the first time in her life, Ellen considered turning down a job. There was a hardness to his eyes as he questioned her. Also pain, and in the far recesses... the wariness of an injured animal.
“Here are my references.” She lifted out a stack of letters filled with praise. Whether they would be good enough for “Mr. Perfect,” she had no way of knowing. “I’ve never met anyone I can’t teach. I always test my students first to find out where they’re at and what th—.”
“Can you keep your mouth shut? Let me rephrase that. Can you keep a secret?”
Clamping tight the mouth in question, she glared at him.
“No one is to know who you’re tutoring, or where you’re at,” he said.
“I do not talk about my students.”
“Not even to your husband?”
“I’m not married.”
“Your boyfriend, then?”
“There’s no need—”
“He won’t wonder where you’re working?”
“No. Not at all.” She looked away, not bothering to add that her boy friend at Virginia Tech—whom she had expected to marry—had let her help put him through school, then dropped her when he landed a high-salaried job. His refusal to repay had forced her to take out a student loan.
Jared scrutinized her letters of reference. “Hmm. These are fine.”
“Those are very good,” she corrected him, feeling peevish. She was through trying to appease the beast.
A quick smile kicked up one corner of his mouth. “I stand corrected. They are excellent.” He spoke soothingly, as if becoming aware of her anger, and at the same time unleashed a charm that could dazzle a star from the sky.
She felt herself succumb, while wanting to resist. Drat the man. He had read her like a book, and was now shifting gears to persuade her. Angry at herself, she replied, “That top one—their son had been diagnosed as mentally retarded.”
Not bothering to re-read the letter, he asked, “So what was wrong?”
“A high fever had made him hard of hearing; just enough to miss words. His mother got him a hearing aid and I brought him up to grade level.”
He nodded, actually looking impressed. It was the most positive sign she had received yet.
“So you’ve never, ever found anyone you couldn’t teach?”
“No. Not as long as they’re intelligent. Some take—”
“How intelligent?”
Discon
certed by his interruptions, she forced herself to change thoughts. “It depends. You see, the older a child is, the harder it is for him to learn; but basic intelligence is all that’s needed. It’s just that you can teach a young child to read much faster than an adult.”
“I see.”
“A child with mental difficulties just takes longer, that’s all. Anyway, where’s your son? I can’t work with an invisible student.”
“He’s not invisible,” he muttered.
It felt like that to her. “I have to hear him read before I guarantee my work.”
“In time,” her interviewer replied brusquely, waving off her request once more. “When I’m completely satisfied you’re the teacher I want.”
The way he was progressing, that could take all day.
He spread his hands on the table, his deeply set eyes regarding her warily. “You won’t be able to say anything about your situation here... even vaguely.”
“I can live with that.”
“I need your promise.”
“You’ve got it.”
“Even afterwards... years later. If I hear a rumor of it, or if it hits the papers, I’ll....” He stopped and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head slowly from side to side.
“You’ll what?”
“Nothing. I’d like it in writing, though.”
The old clock struck a note, making her jump. It was time to terminate the interview. She had had enough. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can help you. You’re going to have to find another teacher.” Picking up her case, she stood to leave as the clock chimed the hour.
Just as quickly, Jared Steel knocked back his chair and rounded the end of the table, blocking her path to the open door. “You can’t leave. Not now!”
Her heart skipped, then accelerated. “I most certainly can.” Throwing her head back, she looked up from her five-foot-two disadvantage, acutely aware of being alone and vulnerable.
“You already know too much.”
He was not an overly big man, but he had a presence which accompanied him, making him seem larger. Fear dried her mouth and left a taste of copper. “I assure you, I know noth—”
“You know more than you think!” He brooded silently for a moment. “If you can hold your tongue, you won’t have any problem. It’s the boy friend who bothers me.”
“He—”
“Does he live in?”
“Certainly not!” Indignation sharpened her words.
A flicker of disillusionment crossed his lips. “You say that very decidedly—but women change their minds overnight.”
“This one doesn’t. I believe in marriage. I don’t play around, Mr. Steel—if it’s any of your business.” Her hair was almost carrot-colored, with just enough auburn in it to make it her crowning joy and not her enemy. Her temper matched the flame. This aggravating man had worked hard to ignite it ever since she arrived, and had finally succeeded.
“Then you’re hired.”
“No!”
“No?”
“No. I can’t work for someone who doesn’t trust me.”
He shrugged, unperturbed. “Tell me, Miss Craig, what will change your mind? More money?”
“Nothing.”
“Even if I eat humble pie?”
His gaze captured hers, but there was no begging in it. Humble pie was unknown to this man. Instead she saw his challenge as he sized her up, trying to figure out how he could get around her. As a result, she felt no sympathy.
“I’ve done it before.” His voice was as smooth as the ripple of a harp, but his eyes still denied his words. His calculated look was the same one her ex-boyfriend had used while he talked her out of her college savings.
“Save it. I am not... taking... the job.”
“I’d need you to work at night, say five to midnight.”
“Those hours are impossible.”
“Can’t you do it?”
“I could, but no—”
“Five to midnight. On weekends, eight to five.”
“How old is—”
“Are you available those hours?”
“I am, but no child can learn—”
“We aren’t talking about a child.”
“We aren’t?” She stared at him, open mouthed.
“I’m not married, Miss Craig. I have no children. I never said I did.”
Her mind raced to make sense of this. No children. “Then who...?”
His eyes answered her question before he spoke. In them were pride, anguish... and a terrible burden.
“Me.”
*2*
Jared fought his emotions as his confession ended years of silence. No sound entered the room except for the muffled tick-tock of the grandfather in the hall. The steady beat counted off the seconds as Ellen stared at him, hands over her mouth.
He lifted his chin, his eyes challenging her, even as she shook her head, denying his situation. He knew what she was thinking. It could not be. She had watched him read her references.
He could see her surprise pass, comprehension swiftly following. Although she said nothing, her eyes spoke for her... and her look of sympathy—of pity—was worse than anything she could have said. Unable to bear her gaze, he half-turned away; wincing as if to ward off a blow.
He should never have opened his door. What a fool he was!
Yet what else could he do? He was on the verge of exposure to the world, and if this stranger could, somehow, take his shame away, then he would endure her pity... however long it took. He had never understood why life had dealt him the joker and made him different; only knowing that the harder he tried, the more frustrated he became.
“You understand what I’ve just told you, don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes. No wonder you wanted assurance that I don’t gossip. I assume no one else knows.”
He closed his eyes, recalling the trouble he took daily to keep his secret, then opened them again. “Right.”
She nodded. “Then, if you want me to, I’ll take the job... on one condition.”
“What?”
“A trial period; say for a couple of days before I make a final commitment. I won’t charge you if I decide not to take you on.”
“A... a ‘trial?’ Don’t you think I can do it?”
“No. That’s not why.”
“Why then?” Suspicion jumped forward, demanding an answer.
“I never take on a student without some preliminary testing. I need to understand your problem. Right now I’m as much in the dark as you.”
Moisture on his hands... he wiped them on his slacks. “You can’t back out now.”
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, whether I teach you or not. Although fear is a greater barrier than reality. You might want to consider how much easier your life would be if you told—”
“Not mine. You don’t know what is involved.” Just the thought made him sick. His entire life would have to be re-built... if he managed to save any of the pieces.
“True. One more reason I need to learn about you.”
He took a deep breath, wishing there were some other way to solve his problem than through this head-strong young woman. Why couldn’t she just teach him? However... “If that’s the only way—when can we start?”
“As soon as you like.”
Jared looked through the slit in the drapes. The sun sent its long rays through the opening, highlighting her figure. It was almost six, but Seattle’s June sun would not set until after nine and twilight would linger past ten. He was willing to go past midnight, if she was. “Now. We’ll start now.”
“The fee will be fifty dollars an hour.”
Interesting. He stared quizzically at her. “Even though I offered more?”
“That’s my fee. No less, no more. Although your offer is tempting. I have a very large college loan to pay off.”
“What about the hours? I want a crash course.”
“Whatever you can stand. We can have longer sessions than a child wou
ld tolerate. Although I’ve never taught an adult before. I’ll need to get different material.”
“We could use the newspaper for now,” he suggested. “I subscribe, because that’s what everyone does—who can read.”
“Not yet. I need to learn more about you before we start.”
“You know I can’t read,” he growled. “Isn’t that enough?” He glared at her, impatience smoldering within. Why was she insisting on knowing about him?
“No, I—”
“I have to start now. I don’t have time to waste.”
“I need to know your reading history, Mr. Steel.”
“I don’t have one.” Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “I never really began.”
“Still, I need to know what happened when you tried to learn. No one lives in a vacuum.”
He sat down again, elbows on the table, fingers bridged under his chin. “Like what?”
“How far did you go in school?” she asked.
“College. I graduated.”
Her mouth dropped. He almost laughed. “College? Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“I don’t see how.... You must be able to read a little.”
“Not much. I didn’t have to.” He shrugged, unconcerned with his ability to work through a system specifically designed to weed out non-readers. “I checked out the teachers and only took classes that were mainly lectures... with true-false or oral exams.”
Ellen rubbed her forehead, biting hard on her lower lip. It had taken her five years to get her BA. It was not fair when someone who could not read got the same degree she had sweat hours for, reading reams of material until her eyes ached. He was either very brilliant or very clever. “Are you proud of that?” she asked.
“It was the only way I could get an education.” He spat out the words, as if they tasted bitter.
His life must be filled with deceit, Ellen realized. Today he had bared his deepest secret to a stranger. What that had cost him, she could only guess, and her thoughts spun back to her arrival at his house. She had indeed heard someone on the other side of those huge doors: Jared Steel, frozen in indecision, sweat-streaked with effort, trying to turn the handle. Her resentment ceased. She had not lost anything through his success. She could almost admire his feat.