up p-e-r-s-p.” Beth knew it would be a lot faster and easier on everyone if she spelled the word completely for Jane, but she wanted to see how the teenager did. She had a feeling a lot more was going on with the young woman. Not only did she have few word attack skills, but she read with difficulty.
Jane blew out a breath and flipped the dictionary open, thumbing through the pages until she found the p section. With only a handful of selections to choose from, Jane pointed and said, “There.” She pushed the dictionary to the side and wrote down the word, grumbling about the time it had taken to find it.
Beth made her way back to her desk. Jane had been struggling with the writing assignment for an hour. The past few days working with her after school had sent red flags waving concerning Jane’s academic ability. Beth decided that when Samuel came to pick up his daughter she would have a talk with him about Jane.
Not ten minutes later Beth knew the instant Samuel appeared in the doorway. As though she had a sixth sense when it came to the man, she looked up to find him smiling at her from across the room. A dimple appeared in his left cheek, drawing Beth’s attention.
The second Jane saw him she finished the sentence she had been writing and gathered up her papers. She started to slide from the desk.
“Are you through, Jane?” Samuel asked, entering.
His presence seemed to shrink the large classroom to the size of a small closet, and for the life of her, Beth couldn’t understand why her pulse began to race. She suddenly worried that she looked as if she had spent the whole day in front of 150 students trying to inspire them to love literature—which she had. She felt even plainer, and wheeled her chair closer to her desk to shield her rather drab dress of gray cotton that didn’t quite hide her extra pounds. Maybe she should buy a few new outfits, more updated with some splashes of color, she thought.
“Yes.” Jane rose and brought the paper to Beth’s desk. After plopping it down, she headed for the door. “I’m getting a drink of water and going to my locker.”
The tension that churned the air left with Jane. Samuel watched his daughter disappear through the doorway before he turned toward Beth with one brow arched.
“This writing assignment was very difficult for her.” Beth picked up Jane’s paper and skimmed it. “And from the looks of it, she doesn’t have a firm background in grammar, punctuation and spelling. Her thoughts on the subject are good ones, but she has a hard time getting them down on paper.”
Samuel covered the distance between them and hovered in front of Beth’s desk—way too close for her peace of mind. The dimple in his left cheek vanished as he frowned.
“What are you telling me?” He took Jane’s paper and began to read.
“I think Jane needs to be tested to see if she has a learning disability.”
His head shot up, his gaze riveted to hers. “A learning disability!”
“A learning disability doesn’t mean that Jane isn’t smart. People with normal, even high, IQs can have a learning disability that hinders them learning what they need to know. How’s she doing in her other classes?”
“Not well except for geometry. She’s got an A in that class. That and advanced drawing.”
“Is she doing the work for the other teachers?”
“No. The same as yours. I’m trying to help her every night. She can’t do anything until she gets her homework done, which basically takes her the whole evening. The Morgan household has not been a fun one this past week. I feel more like a drill sergeant than a father.”
Disregarding how she imagined she looked, Beth stood, feeling at a disadvantage sitting behind her desk. She came around beside Samuel, wanting to help, to comfort. “I think she struggles with the reading part. When I gave her the learning-styles inventory, she tested almost completely a visual learner. So much of the work in high school is from lectures. I’m not sure she’s getting it. Her auditory skills seem to be weak.”
“Then what do I need to do?”
“Sign permission for her to be tested. I’ll refer her and our school psychologist will contact you.”
“I don’t know how well Jane will take this.”
Beth touched his arm, the urge to comfort growing stronger the longer she was around this man. There was something about him that conveyed a troubled soul, and she had never been able to turn away from someone in need. “This can all be handled without the other students knowing.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
As his gaze locked with hers, Beth forgot where she was for a moment. Finally when she shook off the effect he had on her senses, she said, “You always have a choice. But if she’s having trouble reading it’s better to know now than later.”
“You don’t think it’s normal teenage rebellion?”
“No. I think she’s using her defiant attitude as a way to cover up not knowing.”
“Then refer her.”
“Do you want me to talk to Jane about what I’m doing?”
“No, that’s my job. I’ll talk with her on the way home. I don’t want her to be surprised.”
“I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”
Again his gaze snared hers, drawing her in. “You’ve already done so much.”
“Dad, aren’t you coming?” Framed in the doorway, Jane slung her backpack over her left shoulder.
“Yes. I’ll be by this time tomorrow to pick her up.”
Samuel left the classroom, with his daughter walking ahead of him at a fast clip. When he stepped outside, the brisk winter air blasted him in the face. Snow still blanketed the ground, but the roads had been cleared. He found his daughter in the passenger seat of his Ford Mustang, her eyes closed, her head resting against the cushion. For a few seconds he took in her calm expression, which of late was rare, and regretted the conversation to come. But Jane needed to know what was going to happen.
Samuel started the car and drove out of the school parking lot. Lord, I know I haven’t visited with You as I should. But I need help with Jane. Please help me to find the right words to explain about the testing. Please help me to understand what is happening with my daughter.
“What were you and Miss Coleman talking about?” Jane sat up, watching the landscape out the side window.
He took a deep, composing breath. “She wants to refer you for testing and I told her to go ahead.”
Jane twisted toward him. “Testing? What kind?”
“She thinks you’re struggling to read and that you might have a learning disability.”
“I’m not dumb!”
“She didn’t say that and I’m not, either. Your A in geometry proves that. But something’s going on, Jane. Don’t you want to find out what it is?”
“I’m not dumb!” Tears
