When I'm Gone (Rosemary Beach #11)(19)

My phone rang. Suddenly, I didn’t care about Cordelia anymore.

“Hey,” I said, as I held the phone to my ear, anxious to hear Reese tell me about her meeting.

“I hope it’s not too late. There was a wreck on Thirty-One A, and traffic was backed up.” Her soft voice warmed me through the phone.

“No, it’s not too late. Who drove you?”

“I took a cab. There’s a lady Jimmy knows who lives near Panama City. She’s been working this strip of the beach for about twenty years. We don’t have many taxis around here.”

She had been with a lady. That made me feel better. A strange man driving her would have made her uncomfortable. I hadn’t thought about that. I kept forgetting that she didn’t have a car. Wait . . . “Reese, can you drive?” If she couldn’t read, she never would have passed her written test to get a license.

“No,” she answered.

Another thing that had hindered her life. “Next time I’m in town, I’m taking you out on a back road and giving you lessons. We’ll study the written test, too.”

She was silent a moment. I wondered if she was scared to get behind a wheel. Then I finally heard her shuffle around. “OK. I’d like that.”

I would, too. “Tell me about your meeting.”

“Dr. Munroe was nice. He’s very excited about helping me. I took some tests, and I’m definitely dyslexic. That’s it. That’s all that’s wrong with me. He said my teachers or my parents should have caught it when I was a kid, but somehow it was overlooked or misdiagnosed . . .” She trailed off. I didn’t want her thoughts going there. Someone had told her she was stupid, and I knew her parents were part of that.

“When do you start working with him?”

“Monday afternoons, he has to come to Grayton Beach, which isn’t too far from here. His mother lives there, and he has dinner with her. He said we could meet at the library in town. Then, on Thursday afternoons, I have to go to his office to do lessons. He thinks I’ll read quickly once he helps me learn how to focus on the words. No one has worked with me before the way I need.”

She was excited. As she continued, she got louder and talked faster. It was cute. I could imagine her blue eyes twinkling with happiness.

“By the time you come back, I might be able to read to you,” she said, and then I heard her nervous laugh like she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Why wait until I visit? You can read to me on the phone when you call to tell me about your lessons.”

She was quiet again, and I let her play with that idea a moment. I didn’t want to make her skittish. But I did want her to be comfortable with me. Even on the phone. “You want me to call after my lessons?” she asked.

“Of course I do. If that’s OK. I’d like to know how things go.”

“Yes, that’s fine. I’m . . . I will do that. And when I’m brave enough, I’ll read to you.”

Reese

For two weeks, I went to my lessons and called Mase afterward. By the fourth lesson, I realized that I was more excited about hearing Mase’s voice than I was about my actual lessons. And that was saying a lot, because I loved my lessons. I loved how strong I felt as I learned to focus on words and decipher what things said.

I would never be a fast or avid reader. Dr. Munroe had told me not to let that get me down. Reading would never be my strong point, but I would be able to do it. This wouldn’t hold me back from driving, going to college, or filling out job applications anymore.

At the beginning of our third week, I was all set to meet Dr. Munroe at the library in town. He was going to send me home with a book to practice on. The last two books he had given me were very simple, one or two words a page, picture books. I had read those in five minutes each by my next lesson. He was going to give me something more complicated tonight. I was preparing myself for it. I could do it.

Then I would get to call Mase afterward and tell him about my lessons.

Lila Kate woke up from her nap and cried out, and I moved from the stairs where I was dusting to call for Harlow, but she was already coming running around the corner with a grin on her face. She kept a baby-monitor device on her whenever she wasn’t with Lila Kate. I’d forgotten about that.

“She let me finish the cookies I was making for Grant,” Harlow said, as she passed me on the stairs. “When they cool, why don’t you take a break and have cookies and milk with me?”

Harlow always asked me things like this. She didn’t ignore me the way my other clients did, and she didn’t look down her nose when she spoke to me. Instead, she acted like I was her partner. She appreciated my help, even though she was paying me to do it.

“I would like that, and thanks for asking, but I have to meet someone tonight. I need to finish up and get home to clean up before I go,” I wished I didn’t have to decline the offer. I had skipped breakfast and was hungry.

Harlow beamed at me. “Well, I can fix that. You have milk and cookies with me, and I’ll give you a lift home. You’ll be back much sooner with a ride. And don’t tell me no. You turned me down last week, and my brother called to make sure I gave you a ride. I explained that you wouldn’t let me, and he blamed me. So from now on, I’m driving you. No arguments.” She turned and hurried after Lila Kate, who was now crying louder since she’d heard Harlow’s voice.