Free Moonlight and Shadows by Tara Janzen Page B

more than a
trace of enthusiasm in her voice.
    “Good,” she amended. “He’s very good at his
job.”
    “Oh?” Didi’s eyebrows didn’t budge a
millimeter. “Are we talking about a good, illiterate, old carpenter, or a good, illiterate, prime-of-manhood carpenter?”
    “Actually, he’s dyslexic.”
    Didi gasped. “I don’t believe it! You’re
seeing a man!”
    It was a leap of logic to be sure, but Lila
knew how her friend’s mind worked, and she knew Didi would be hard
to dissuade. Still, she had to try. She couldn’t let one of her
oldest and dearest friends harbor false hopes.
    “I said he was dyslexic, Didi. I wasn’t
being evasive.”
    “You were being evasive, totally evasive. Of
course, dyslexia is a whole different problem from functional
illiteracy. You should have told me right up front. The library
program is no good. Their volunteers aren’t trained to tutor
dyslexics. I can’t wait to meet him. He must be very special. Do
you know how long it’s been since you had a date?” She paused as if
she expected an answer, and when she didn’t get one, she filled in
her own blank. “A year ago December.”
    “Thank you, Dee,” Lila drawled, “for
reminding me of such a pleasant occasion.” Thankfully, Didi missed
the sarcasm.
    “It was awful!” she exclaimed. “I was there.
Remember? But a whole year, Lila? Man does not live by bread
alone.”
    “And it’s physically impossible to die of
embarrassment,” Lila countered, one clichéd phrase for another.
    “Hey, wait a minute. You said he couldn’t
read the letter you’d written him?”
    “Yes,” she said, wary of what Didi was going
to ask next.
    “Handwritten?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, hell, Lila. I can’t read your
handwriting, and I have a doctorate.”
    “My handwriting is not that bad.”
    “It’s worse,” Didi said succinctly. “Bring
him around to the reading lab on Wednesday, and I’ll have him
tested. Then we can figure out where to go from there. Okay?”
    “No, not okay. He doesn’t want to be tested.
I’m not even sure he wants to learn how to read.”
    Didi thought about that for a moment, then
threw Lila another curve. “Maybe he already knows how and he just
doesn’t like to read. It wouldn’t be on the top of a dyslexic’s
list of fun things to do.”
    Perfect, Lila thought, sinking deep into the
chair. She hadn’t fired him because he couldn’t read, and she
couldn’t teach him to read because he might already know. She’d
ignored him and confronted him, kissed him and offended him, lied
with him and to him. She’d be darned if she knew what else to do
with him.
    * * *
    Fortunately, Jack was full of ideas, and he
wasn’t shy about pursuing them.
    “I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said
that evening. He’d taken a short break from working on the office,
helped himself to a cup of coffee in the kitchen, then unerringly
wandered into the sitting room, where Lila worked every night.
    She swiveled her desk chair around at the
sound of his voice, and he wondered anew at the sheer delicacy and
beauty of her face. He’d never seen skin so pretty, like cream
blushed with rose petals, and he knew she’d be like that all over.
It was enough to drive him crazy in the dark hours of the night. He
wanted to do all the things to her men did to women who made them
feel the way she made him feel.
    “About your offer,” he explained at her
expectant look.
    “You mean the reading?” she asked, and he
swore he heard hope and anticipation in her voice.
    “Yes. I’ve thought it over, and if we can
agree on a couple of ground rules, I think reading lessons would be
a good idea.” His sister, Karen, would have shot him for saying
such a thing. Even after all these years, he hated to think of the
many sacrifices she’d made trying to beat the difference between b and d into his brain, the missed parties, the
canceled dates, the homework she hadn’t had time to finish for her
own classes because doing his