She had gone into the sexual relationship knowing nothing more could ever happen with Evan. It was her that wanted something more; not him. She really had no right to expect any other reaction than one of relief. Randi knew she should feel the same way. Oddly, she didn’t.
“You think he doesn’t care about you?” Beatrice asked as she ran a feather duster over the shelves.
“I know he doesn’t,” Randi agreed, leaning back against the counter of the store.
“You’re wrong,” Beatrice chirped. “He hides a lot, but the truth will come out eventually.”
“He’s not for me, Beatrice.”
“This isn’t one of my errors. My spirit guides seem to be strong with the Sinclairs,” Beatrice said firmly.
Randi smiled. She wasn’t about to break the news that she thought Beatrice’s spirit guides had dementia.
“I have to run,” she told her warmly. “Lily is in the car.”
She hadn’t been home, so she was still carrying her dog around with her.
Beatrice turned and speared Randi with a pointed look. “Don’t give up. He’s worth the wait. He was always going to be a tough nut to crack.”
Randi nodded even though she wasn’t a believer in Beatrice’s predictions. At least not this one. “What about the cousins?” she asked, wondering what Beatrice was likely to predict for them.
“They all belong here, and I’ve already had dreams about the first one.”
Poor guys. The Sinclair cousins have no idea what’s coming.
She highly doubted any of the cousins were going to move to Amesport. Micah was into extreme sports, Julian’s place was in Hollywood, and Xander the bad boy had to be out painting a big city red to remain happy. Not a single one of them belonged here.
“Take care of yourself, Beatrice,” Randi said fondly as she reached for the door.
“You too, honey, and remember what I said. You two were meant to be.”
Shoving the door open, Randi called back, “Thanks, Beatrice.”
Once outside, Randi sprinted to her vehicle with a shake of her head. Poor Beatrice was destined for failure on this prediction. She just didn’t know it yet.
Later that afternoon, Randi had a tutoring session at the Center. School would start up again tomorrow, but she’d committed to an appointment, and she was glad Matt’s mother hadn’t canceled.
She’d been working with him on his reading, one of the third grader’s problem areas.
“It doesn’t make sense,” the child complained, frustrated as he tried to read a passage in a storybook.
“It will,” Randi encouraged. “You just have to keep trying. Sound the word out,” she told him with a patient smile. “You’ll get it.”
Matt was smart, but unfortunately he needed more one-on-one time, something that she wasn’t able to give him in class. She’d asked his parents to start sending him to her free tutoring sessions at the Center, and she made sure to carve out an afternoon where she could work with him alone.
Catching a brief movement out of the corner of her eye, Randi turned her head to see Evan watching her and Matt as they struggled through the book. His shoulder was comfortably propped against the doorframe, so he’d obviously been there for a while.
He was dressed in a power suit again, and his expression was darkly brooding. Putting his hands into the pockets of his wool coat, he strolled into the room as he spoke. “It will take him at least four times as long for word recognition. What he sees isn’t the same as what other kids see. His brain is wired differently. Sometimes he won’t be able to connect a word with an object or a meaning. Sarcasm might be hard to understand sometimes, and he might have problems finding the right words to say. Joking around might be something he can’t always grasp, so he might be uncomfortable with it sometimes. But he can be just as accomplished as any other child.”
Randi stared at Evan, dumbfounded at his words before the lightbulb went off in her head. There had been subtle signs: his need for extreme organization and rigid routine, him asking her to dial her own phone number instead of doing it himself, his quirk of sometimes taking things seriously that were actually teasing, and his drive and determination to succeed when he was already more accomplished than most men in the world.
Evan had way overcompensated for his disability.
“You’re dyslexic?” It was almost an unnecessary question. After Evan had stated accurate facts and she’d pieced things together, she was certain of her conclusion.
He nodded slowly, never taking his turbulent eyes away from her face. “I am.” He nodded his head toward Matt as he asked, “Did you know he is, too?”
She swallowed hard before answering. “Yes. I have a master’s degree in education with a certification to teach children with learning disabilities.”
Matt was looking up at Evan, his eyes wide. “You have the problems I have?” he asked curiously.
Evan sat next to Matt at the table, both of them seated across from Randi now.
“I do,” he told the child honestly. “We’re different, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be successful. Lots of famous people are dyslexic.”
“I know,” Matt chattered enthusiastically. “Randi told me. But it gets hard to read, and sometimes I get my numbers mixed up.”
Evan nodded solemnly. “Your brain will figure it out in a different way. Just remember you’re special and not stupid. You have ways of figuring things out that nobody else can.”
Randi’s hands were shaking as she closed the book they’d been reading and listened to the honest conversation Evan was having with Matt. It was hard to fathom that Evan had dyslexia, but after thinking about it for a moment as he chatted with Matt, it made sense.