Northern Rebel Daring in the Dark - By Jennifer Labrecque Page 0,52

damn panic ever since he got Natalie’s note. He’d thought she’d say no. And then he started thinking of all the ways she might find out just how dumb he was and those thoughts had all made him feel as if he was sinking in quicksand. Not that he’d ever been in quicksand, but he’d seen a couple of horror movies and he figured that was close to what it would feel like.

Lars paused at the door and for a second Dirk thought his older cousin might give him a break.

“Okay, I’m here for moral support, but this is your show to run.”

No such luck. Dirk nodded, manned up and opened the door.

Merrilee looked up from her desk. “Ah, two of my favorite nephews.”

Yep. That was nice.

“Hey, Merrilee, you think we could talk to you for a few minutes?” The words rushed out of Dirk’s mouth.

“Of course.” She picked up a plate of muffins and held them out, offering them to him and Lars. Dirk passed since he sort of felt like puking, but Lars grabbed one. “What’s up, boys?”

“Maybe it’d be a good idea to take a walk or something,” Dirk said, glancing over at Dwight and Jefferson. Dwight was half-deaf but Jefferson’s hearing was just fine.

“Sure thing.” She put the plate of muffins back and picked up her coffee cup. “Hey, would you guys hold down the fort for a bit?” Jefferson nodded and she turned back to Lars and Dirk. “Picnic tables okay or do you want to go over to the house?”

“Picnic tables,” Dirk said. Given a choice, he always liked it better outside. Maybe it was because he was so damn big, but he always felt hemmed in indoors.

They dipped out the back door and crossed the landing strip clearing to a couple of picnic tables at the edge of the trees.

Merrilee perched on the table top, her feet on the bench seat. Lars sat down on the other end of the bench, leaning his back against the table edge, his legs stretched out in front of him.

Dirk paced. There was no way in hell he could sit down. The birds were chirping, over on the sandlot kids were playing ball, and there were background noises everywhere. But here, with just the three of them, it was quiet. Merrilee and Lars waited.

Lars studied the sky as if there was a message in the clouds. He was probably just making sure the plane didn’t turn around and bring his mom back. Dirk had been nice when he’d said Aunt Janie was tough. She was a horrible woman. But he didn’t want to put Lars in the position of having to kick his ass defending his mom, even if Dirk’s words were true. Some things you just didn’t say about another guy’s mom.

Shit. He was just standing here bullshitting in his own head to put off spilling his guts.

Merrilee waited patiently. She looked as though she could wait until next week, if that’s how long it took.

He felt the heat rising in his face. The longer he put this off, the harder it would be.

Screwing up his courage, Dirk looked Merrilee in the eye. He might be a dummy, but he wasn’t a coward. “I have a little trouble with reading. Sometimes, a lot of times, the words get mixed up. I mean, I can read, but...” He trailed off. There was no sugarcoating it.

Merrilee shrugged. “Okay.”

He saw it in her eyes. There wasn’t even a flicker of surprise. “You knew?”

“I guessed last night. You just beat me to the draw on bringing it up.”

Dirk sat on the ground. He wasn’t sure his legs would hold him up. Merrilee hadn’t looked at him with impatience the way his teachers had, or pity like that one woman had when he’d had to ask for help. He only saw kindness.

“Well,” Merrilee said, “then I’ll teach you. We’ll work together and you’ll get better at it.”

She made it sound so simple. She’d teach him and he’d learn. Just like all the other kids. The teachers taught and they learned. He’d sat there with the rest of the kids in those classes, paying attention, but he’d never caught on. What made him think it would be any different this time? Maybe it would be the same—

“Don’t even let your brain go there,” Merrilee said. “Everyone can learn. You’re everyone.”

Dirk swiped at his eyes, at the tears he couldn’t hold back. “Damn bugs.”

She’d said we—he wasn’t in this alone. He wasn’t hopeless.