Chapter Fourteen

“She could have died.” Ryan made the bold statement from his place at Henry Murphy’s kitchen table. It held as much gloom and doom when he said it to the older man as it had when Amara collapsed. And in the five days since the competition, not a day had passed that he wasn’t reminded of why she could have died.

And not a day went by that he didn’t think of the dark-haired beauty and the kisses he had stolen. He had planned to steal another, but the events of the previous Saturday caused his plans to go awry.

The experience, however, had motivated him to donate most of his winnings to the church literacy program and the rest to diabetes research in Amara’s honor. The silver convertible no longer held any appeal.

The newspaper, his new apartment lease, the letter in the prize envelope from the resort – they all mocked him with a viciousness he had never before experienced. But no one’s life had ever been compromised by his inability to read until that night.

“But she didn’t die, and for obvious reasons that’s good,” Doc said. “And apparently you couldn’t read how much money is on this Junonia card or you might not have given it away.” Doc turned the multi-colored gift card toward Ryan and pointed to the five and two zeroes printed on the front.

“I can do numbers,” Ryan replied with a shrug. “It’s the letters that don’t compute. And I don’t feel like that’s enough. I’d never have managed without your help. Take that new lady friend of yours and treat her to dinner.”

Doc scowled at him. “How did you know about her? I thought I’d been pretty careful to keep her a secret.”

Ryan chuckled. “Remember? I’m the best secret keeper on this island. I know all the tricks.”

Doc didn’t appear convinced, though.

“Okay, I saw you two coming out of the movie theater in Naples a few evenings ago. I didn’t want to say anything. But you two looked pretty chummy. Don’t deny it.”

Doc contemplated the salt and pepper shakers at his fingertips. “Oh, I’m not going to deny anything. I’ve been seeing Eloise for a month or so, but I’m not ready to bring her to the island and expose her to the gossip girls of Mimosa Key.”

Ryan laughed. “I hear ya. But even Charity Grambling and her horde of gossip mongers don’t know my secret.”

“Let’s just make sure she and that sister of hers don’t find out about Eloise. But since you mentioned it, how long are you going to deny it?” Doc continued.

Ryan’s gaze snapped up, but he didn’t move. Deny what? His inability to read? He couldn’t deny it if he tried, at least not to Doc.

“Deny isn’t really the right word, though,” Doc explained before Ryan could answer. “You know you can’t read. And unfortunately, you accept that as the norm. It doesn’t have to be that way. It shouldn’t be that way.” The older man stopped just short of ordering Ryan to attend the adult literacy class they had discussed so many times before.

“If she had just told me about the diabetes and what could happen, I could have been prepared.”

“Ah, yes. I can picture that.” Doc shook his head. “Amara, can I have one of your spare glucose kits so I can practice sticking the needle into an orange and figure out how to give you an injection if you pass out on me? That’s a great way to win the girl.” Doc paused thoughtfully. “Actually, it might be a great way to impress a woman – be prepared to save her life.”

“Who’s trying to win the girl?” Ryan asked innocently.

Doc’s gaze pinned him in place. “That’s the other thing you’re in denial about. You care about that woman above and beyond helping her in a medical crisis. You couldn’t get out of that dance studio fast enough a month ago when you started rehearsing. By last week that’s where you were every spare minute of the day.”

“We were rehearsing.” Ryan said the words a little too loudly. Too forcibly. He cleared his throat and inhaled deeply. “I still had trouble with one part of the routine, and we needed all the rehearsal time we could get.”

“And apparently it paid off. At least in the dancing department.”

“Second place?” Ryan spat the words out. “That’s the first loser. And the real loser was Amara. She was going to donate her winnings to the literacy program.” He released a deep sigh. “And I had decided to do likewise. I wasn’t good enough, and I failed. I failed again.”

Ryan rubbed his shoulder.

“Is it bothering you?” Doc asked, nodding in Ryan’s direction.

Ryan shook his head. “The shoulder isn’t what’s bothering me. What am I gonna do, Doc?”

The older man leaned forward. “Seems to me you have a couple things you need to tackle. And I can’t do that for you. You know my position on the reading issue. The other? Only you have the answer. And I’m sure I don’t have to remind you the adult class meets tonight in, oh, about ninety minutes.”

Doc was absolutely correct. Damn it. And no, he didn’t have to remind Ryan about the class. Ryan pushed away from the table and stood. “You and Eloise let me know how you like Junonia, okay? Maybe I’ll take a date there one day.”

The men said their goodbyes and Ryan headed to the Harley parked in Doc’s drive. He strapped on the helmet, slung a leg over the seat and fired up the bike. The familiar pop-pop-pause of the V-shaped engine mocked him.

Learn to read. Learn to read. Learn to read.

He ignored the repeated taunt and turned toward the south end of the island. Maybe a stroll along the water with the wind and smell of the ocean would help him sort out things.

Forty minutes and several miles later, he still had not come to any conclusions. Perhaps today he needed a long ride on the bike more than a walk along the shore.

When the engine sputtered as he approached the intersection of the island’s two main roads, he angled the bike toward the Super Min and pulled up beside one of the gasoline pumps.

After adding gas to the tank and re-setting the trip odometer he had ignored, he went inside to pay.

“Well if it isn’t Whiz Kidd,” the voice from behind the counter announced.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, hating the old nickname that was a sore reminder of an earlier failure. “I owe you for some gas,” he said, handing over his credit card.

“You were pretty danged good in that dancing contest the other night,” she said as she rang up his purchase. “And I voted for you every day in that tweeter contest. Got my sister to vote for you, too. I thought that Alvarez fellow was over the top. Didn’t you think so? I mean having that airplane fly over the island all the time was annoying. I’m SuperMinCharity if you want to follow me.”

Ryan bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Oh? Were you there? I couldn’t see the audience for the lights and then…well, you know.”

“Me? At that fancy bash? Oh no,” she replied, drawing out the last word. “Too rich for my blood. But the paper has a real nice write-up about it with pictures and everything. Here, let me show you.”

She pulled a wrinkled paper from under the counter and fumbled until she found the right page. Folding the paper in half, she laid it on the counter and pointed. “See? Read that part right there.” She tapped a spot with a crimson-tipped finger. “I especially liked the part where they said your dancing was good enough to be on that TV show.”

Ryan let his gaze wander over the page. The paper had printed a photo of him and Amara mid-promenade as well as photos of the other Mimosa Key couples in the competition. The largest photo showed Nino and Glynnis accepting the winners’ trophy.

The captions were Greek to him. For all he knew, the paper panned his performance. Except Charity had said they didn’t.

“Uh…I’m kind of in a hurry, so if you have an extra copy of that paper, I’ll buy it and be on my way.”

“Oh, you just take this one.” The frowzy-haired woman neatly re-folded the paper and handed it across the counter to him. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh at the leer on her face or be creeped out by it.

“Th…thank you, ma’am,” he said, taking the paper from her grasp.

“You can just call me Charity, okay?”

“Okay, ma’am. I mean, Charity, ma’am.”

The woman cackled and began to walk from behind the counter.

Ryan turned quickly and strode away. “Thanks again,” he said, holding up the paper and exiting the store.

He sat in the Super Min parking lot for too long. Charity glared at him from the doorway, and the motorcycle’s engine continued to challenge him. When Charity opened the door and yelled at him about loitering, he kicked the bike into gear, the back tire throwing up a plume of dirt and gravel as he roared away.

Fifteen minutes later he stood in the hallway at Hope Presbyterian Church. The same hallway he’d run from weeks before. Class had already begun because he had spent too long in that parking lot arguing with himself.

He heard Amara’s voice, and this time instead of a threat, he heard it as a life preserver. Something tossed to help a drowning man. And he was definitely drowning – in functional illiteracy and love for this amazing and beautiful woman.

And it was time to tell her about both.

He sucked in a long breath and blew it out before stepping into the classroom. All eyes, including Amara’s, turned toward him.

“Ryan? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

Yes. Something was very wrong.

He nodded in her direction, then opened his mouth to speak. “I need to…because I…can’t…” Despite multiple rehearsals during the ride from the convenience store to the church, the words came with difficulty.

He swallowed once, twice and began again. “I’m…”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Her voice was low and calming. “Come in and have a seat.”

At the end of class, the other students filed out of the room while Ryan hung back in his seat near the rear of the room. He fingered the workbook Amara had given him, then flipped through the pages that might as well have been in a foreign language.

“I imagine it took a lot of courage for you to come in here tonight.” Amara’s voice was barely audible. “This explains a lot. And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for coming. After last weekend I wasn’t sure you’d ever speak to me again. And I surely didn’t expect you here.”

“Not speak to you? Why wouldn’t I? I thought you probably hated me for…you know.”

She sat across the table from him and folded her hands in front of her. For several minutes neither of them spoke.

“I guess we both kept secrets we shouldn’t have. I thought you didn’t want to join me at the café after the contest because of the diabetes. You wouldn’t be the first person to shy away from me because of it. Some people actually think they can catch it from me and—”

“Oh, no,” Ryan interrupted. “No. After I couldn’t help you at the contest I was too embarrassed to be around you. I actually came here a couple weeks ago to join the class and when I heard your voice I turned around and left for the same reason – embarrassment. But I can’t ignore it any more. I can’t risk another person paying a price for my pride. I hope you’ll let me stay.”

“For the class?” she asked.

Ryan reached across the table, grasped her hand and put it to his lips. He kissed her palm before clasping her hand between his two larger ones.

“Yeah. And for good.”

A puzzled look creased her forehead. “What do you mean? For good?”

“I mean, I hope we can either pick up from where we left off or even start all over again because I’m falling for you. Falling bad. And I hope I can make you feel the same about me.”

Her smile made his heart do flips in his chest.

“Of course you can stay in the class. And you don’t have to do anything to make me care for you.”

She paused, and Ryan’s heart went from flips to flops, thinking he had blown his chance with her.

“Because I already do.”