He’d tried to make up for his weaknesses by riding hard on his strengths. He was anal at times because everything had to be perfectly organized for him to function optimally. Sometimes he really didn’t understand when someone was teasing, so he said nothing at all. He’d probably never ignored her on purpose. Hadn’t he mentioned that he didn’t know what to say? So he hadn’t said anything. If he’d never had much of a chance to be around people who joked around, it was natural that he still might not always be completely comfortable with someone who teased him.
Every child with dyslexia had their own path to success and learning. She was willing to bet Evan’s road had been long and hard, with his background of abuse. But he’d still made it, still achieved a level of success that most people could only dream about.
Yes, he’d been born wealthy, but his partnerships in megasuccessful businesses almost from their inception had made him even richer.
“Mom’s here,” Matt exclaimed happily, shaking Randi out of her own thoughts.
Randi saw Matt’s mom standing near the door with her son’s jacket in her hand. Luckily, his mother was a caring parent who understood Matt’s disability.
“Go,” Evan told Matt as he clapped the child gently on the back. “And remember what I said.”
Randi was sad that she’d missed part of the conversation because she had been lost in thought.
Matt nodded at Evan with a cheerful smile and an expression of hero worship on his face. Randi watched her pupil leave, and turned to Evan, uncertain what to say.
Finally she found her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t tell anyone.”
“Why?”
“I know I’m not stupid, lazy, or slow, so why should it matter to anyone else?” Evan remarked, raising a questioning eyebrow at her.
“Is that what your father thought? He thought you were lazy and slow. Is that why he beat you?” Randi clenched her fists on the table, hoping to God he’d deny her suspicions.
He didn’t.
“Yes. That’s how it started,” Evan explained, looking away from her probing eyes. “I was expected to excel in school. I was the Sinclair heir apparent. Anything else was unthinkable to him. I wasn’t supposed to have defects.” Evan released a long breath. “I was my father’s greatest disappointment. I was slow to read and I had a problem with numbers, an inconceivable problem for a Sinclair. Sometimes I still do mix up numbers. I need my staff to make sure what’s in my head is on paper properly. I dictate reports a lot so they can be properly put on paper to avoid mistakes.”
The way he hid his disability when he should be proud of all he’d accomplished tugged at Randi’s heart. She rose and moved around the table, hefting herself up to sit on the table right next to his chair. “How did you learn?” He still wasn’t looking at her, and she wanted to weep for the boy he once was. Evan was brilliant, but he’d been made to feel less than smart by an insensitive idiot.
“After my father discovered that beating me senseless wasn’t going to miraculously make me smarter, he got me a tutor. The teacher was a bastard, but it worked. Repetition and phonics helped; memorizing the words that connected to a tangible object or person was easier. Bigger concepts came later. I worked with a tutor every night of the week and on the weekends when I wasn’t in school.”
“You’re amazing. You know that, right?” Randi reached out her hand and turned his head toward her.
“Not really. It was the way I was wired. I had to deal with it.”
Evan was so nonchalant that her heart melted. It had hurt, and it had hurt badly when he was a child. Obviously, it had made him all the more determined to find a way to conquer his problems, and he had. Dyslexia was never cured, but he’d found his own way to understand.
She’d studied examples of how children with dyslexia saw written words or books, and how best to conquer the problems. It had opened her eyes to children with learning disabilities and made her want to be able to teach them to cope. Plenty of famous people were dyslexic, including some of the brightest and most creative minds in history.
“I disagree,” she commented, trying to get him to look at her by keeping her palm on his face.
“So you teach children with learning disabilities?” he asked huskily, obviously trying to change the subject.
Randi shook her head. “No. I teach a regular class of third graders. I volunteer here for special needs. Amesport doesn’t have an organized program for gifted or special-needs students.”
“So you’re overqualified?”
“Not really. I just can’t use all of my skills in my current position. I don’t mind volunteering here.” Usually it was the best part of her day. “It makes me happy. Do you know what it’s like to be happy, Evan?”
Randi wondered if he’d ever been able to step out of his comfort zone in the past. He considered himself a caretaker of his siblings, responsible for their happiness. But what about him? He had a brilliant mind that functioned uniquely, and he’d compensated by being solemn and ultra-organized. Okay . . . he was majorly anal, but he had a reason to be. His learning disability didn’t explain his arrogance, but Randi figured that was all Evan. He’d gained confidence over the years, and he wasn’t shy about sharing his lack of insecurity about his intelligence.
He got to his feet and finally looked at her, his nostrils flaring and his eyes flashing blue fire. “I think I do understand happiness. Maybe I didn’t last week or last year, but I think I’m beginning to get the concept now.”