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.
It took me a moment to steady myself. I pressed my hands to my warm cheeks and wished I hadn’t blushed. Mase had called to see if she was driving me home. He was thinking about me aside from when I called him. The crazy grin that was stuck to my face every time I thought of Mase was back.
When I had started dusting the steps again, Harlow reappeared at the top of them holding a wide-eyed, smiling Lila Kate. She was happy now that she had her mommy. The little girl could light up a room.
“Lila Kate is expecting you for cookies and milk, too. So you can’t turn her down. No one is allowed to tell her no. Just ask her daddy,” Harlow said, starting down the steps. “Let’s go enjoy our break,”
I wasn’t going to argue. It would be rude, and, well, if Mase wanted her to give me a lift so badly that he was calling to bug her, I wasn’t telling her no. Besides, I really was hungry.
The Carters’ kitchen reminded me of something from a sitcom. It was warm and lived-in, but no expense had been spared. Harlow placed Lila Kate in her swing, which sat looking out the bay window into the backyard. “You swing and watch the birds, and I’ll get your bottle ready,” she told her daughter, as if the baby understood what she was saying. Then she turned to me. “I can make you coffee if you prefer it. I can’t drink coffee unless it’s decaf, and then I can only have a little. But I do have it here. Grant drinks it.”
Milk sounded just fine to me. “I like milk,” I replied. “Can I help you?”