“Yeah, I do. Why can’t this be easy?” He just shrugged his shoulders in response.
When they found Miss Zimmerman’s classroom, they poked their heads inside, only to discover she was teaching a group of students. “Did you need something? We’ll be finished in 15 minutes.”
Fifteen minutes didn’t seem to be much time to wait, so they sat down on the floor outside her door.
“Thanks for coming with me, Zane.”
“Hey, not a problem.”
“I’m a little scared, to be honest. I opened up this door with Mom, and I’m not quite sure what I’ll do if I can’t help her walk through it.”
He reached over and once again held her hand in his. It was warm, and for a moment all thoughts of her mother left. “Just keep at it. You’ll figure it out,” he said.
“How can you be so calm?”
“Well …” He covered his mouth to cover his laughter. “Sorry, that wasn’t nice, was it?” She shook her head. “Madelyn,” he turned so he could face her, “it’s a journey. None of these people represent the end or the goal, they’re just steps along the way.”
“More like roadblocks, I’d say.”
He laughed. “Probably.”
They were quiet for a while after that, silently entwining their fingers. Madelyn glanced around the hallway. Outside her classroom, Miss Zimmerman had various posters of books—some of them she had read, and others she hadn’t.
“Zane, do you like to read?” Madelyn whispered the question, almost afraid of the answer. It shouldn’t matter, especially with her mom not even able to read, but he was helping on this crusade to make it possible for her to do so. And Madelyn realized she needed to know. If he didn’t like to read, then he was just humoring her. But if he really did like to read, then she could trust him, knowing he did want to help her, to help her mom, that they weren’t just fools. He didn’t answer right away, and Madelyn found herself holding her breath.
He finally responded without actually answering the question. “Did you ever wonder how I got a name like Zane?”
She didn’t want to be sidetracked, but his question intrigued her. “I guess not. You’re the only Zane I’ve ever known, but I’ve known you since I was little, so it just seemed like a normal name to me.”
“I’ve never met another Zane either, but I know of one—Zane Grey. Do you know who that is?”
“No, but it does sound vaguely familiar.”
“He’s an author. He died a long time ago, I think around the start of World War II. He wrote stories about the American West.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah. Anyway, my grandpa loved Zane Grey novels, and so my dad read them as a kid too. It was a connection they had. Whenever they might have disagreements about something, they could always repair things by talking about Zane Grey. It’s something that kept them close over the years. My dad wanted to name me Zane because of that father-son bond that he wanted to continue, and I guess Mom relented.”
“That’s cool. Did he tell you all that?”
He laughed out loud. “Of course not. He probably did it without even thinking about it. My mom figured it out and told me. She actually swore me to secrecy because Dad would probably be embarrassed. But, yeah, I think it’s cool too.”
“So, do you like Zane Grey novels?”
“No,” he said, laughing and shaking his head. “I don’t. They’re just not my thing. Isn’t that terrible?”
They were both stifling laughter when Miss Zimmerman’s door opened.
. . .
“You know, I’d love to help you,” she said after they’d explained the situation. “I’ve never diagnosed an adult before, but the process would be the same as for a child. I just don’t have a lot of leeway with the district watching over my shoulder.”
Madelyn was about to object when Miss Zimmerman continued, “I’m not saying no. It’s just a matter of timing. We’re getting geared up for the new school year, and I’m up to my eyeballs in testing that needs to be done at all different levels within the school district. That should continue into the first several weeks of school. I’ll get in all kinds of trouble if I deviate from that. However,” she flashed them a smile, “once that’s done, I’m sure I could sneak her in. It just won’t be until late September or October.”
It was good news, it really was, Madelyn kept telling herself. “Thanks. It’s not what I was hoping for, but it’s the first good news all day.” They exchanged numbers and agreed to keep in touch. As they left the room, Madelyn thought of one more thing, “Oh, Miss Zimmerman, do you teach freshman English? I’d kind of like to avoid ending up in Mrs. Cutler’s class.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I’ll take care of it. Zane? How about you?” He nodded his head.
After collecting their bikes, they rode over to the park. Madelyn knew she should go home and report what had happened, but she was still trying to process it. And, besides, she didn’t mind in the least spending more time with Zane.
Lying down on the grass, she said, “So, you never actually answered my question earlier. Do you like to read?”
“Yes, I love to read. I may not like the same books as my dad, but with an author for a namesake, I couldn’t exactly not like to read, could I?”
“Yeah, I guess not.” She was smiling in relief. “Have you ever read The Hobbit?”
“No, I haven’t. Is it good?”
“Yeah, it is. I’m not finished with it yet. My dad and I are reading it together over the summer. He has a copy and I have one. It’s … I suppose it’s our version of Zane Grey—only we don’t usually fight.”
“I’ll have to read it when you’re done. I mean if I can borrow your copy?”
She rolled onto her side so she could see his face. “As long as you don’t dog-ear any pages, I’m fine with that.”
He matched her feigned serious stare. “All right. I’m reading Watership Down right now. We’ll swap. You can hold my book hostage until I return yours—unscathed.”
“Okay, it’s a deal. Let’s shake on it. What’s it about, anyway?”
“Rabbits.”
“Rabbits? You’re kidding, right?”
“No, seriously, it’s about rabbits and a journey they make.”
“A journey? There seems to be a lot of that these days. You know, The Hobbit is about one too.”
It wasn’t until they had gathered their bikes that Madelyn realized Where the Wild Things Are involved a journey as well, even if you could argue about whether Max ever left home.
. . .
“The car’s in the garage. Where did they go?” Madelyn said as the two of them searched an empty house upon their return.
“They’re not out back,” Zane said, shrugging his shoulders.
“It’s not like them to just take off without leaving a note or something.”
Before she could say another word, a chorus of voices reached them, coming in through the front door. Aunt Dory, Mom, Jillian, and Daniel spilled inside. They were talking and laughing, only stopping when they saw Madelyn and Zane looking puzzled in front of them.
“You’re back. That’s great,” Mom said.
“Not as great as you might think,” Madelyn was quick to say. “You won’t believe what we’ve run up against. After that disastrous phone call this morning, we went to the library, like I told you we were going to, but it didn’t stop there –”
“Madelyn, it’s okay,” Mom said, interrupting.
“No, it’s not. You don’t understand. The librarians can’t or won’t help. So, then we ended up back at the high school and
waited to talk to –”
“No, Madelyn, I’m telling you it’s okay. Just listen to me for a minute.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I saw how determined you were this morning. I appreciate that more than you know. It also got me thinking. I know having a dyslexia diagnosis will be beneficial in the end, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get started now.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Madelyn was nodding her head. “We could –”
“Hold on. We’ve already figured it out. I’ve been talking with Dory. She’s going to help me. I needed the push from you, Madelyn; I really did. But if I could teach my little brother how to walk and talk, maybe I can learn to read too—with help, of course,” she said, nodding in Aunt Dory’s direction.
“Wow! That’s great, Mom. And thanks, Aunt Dory.” She turned to Zane, “I’d like you to meet Aunt Dory. She lives next door. Aunt Dory, this is Zane.”
“Nice to meet you,” Aunt Dory said.
Zane, on the other hand, was bewildered. “Your aunt lives next door?”
“Sorry,” Madelyn said, laughing. “She’s our neighbor, Mrs. Burnham, but we’ve just decided to adopt her into the family.” He still wore a confused expression, so she added, “I’ll explain it all later.” He nodded, willing to accept it for what it was.
“So, you can teach her to read? Even with the dyslexia?” Zane said.
“Yes. The school district might be willing to supply tutors once she’s diagnosed, but I can get started right away.” Then she winked. “And you know what? I know quite a few retired teachers, and a lot of them would welcome something to fill their time.”
“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you,” Mom said. “We’ve been on the phone all morning. Everything is set up.”
Madelyn looked at each of them. They were all nodding in agreement. She turned to Zane. “I guess our work here is done.” He smiled in response.
. . .
When Zane left to go home later, Madelyn walked him out. “Thanks for everything, Zane.” He just nodded. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he said.
“You like to read, and your family clearly likes to read, but you didn’t judge my mom.”
“Is that a question?”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Well, it’s not like we’re out there reading classic literature. What we read and enjoy isn’t exactly high-brow.”
“So? Still, you didn’t …”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Why would I?”
She gazed deep into Zane’s eyes. A few years down the road who knew what might happen between the two of them—maybe something, maybe nothing. But one thing Madelyn knew for sure—she would be forever grateful for those three words.
Tuesday
Mom came home from her first real tutoring session looking like nothing Madelyn had ever seen before. Her eyes were on fire. Her jaw was set, and if it was possible, Madelyn could have sworn she was taller.
“So, how was it?” Madelyn said.
“Hard. Probably harder than anything I’ve ever done before.” Madelyn’s face fell, until Mom continued, “But it’s also the most amazing experience. Letters … well, they’re not just random shapes to me anymore. That’s all they’ve ever been. How could you make sense out of a line of shapes, like seeing a circle, followed by a tree, followed by a mountain? And then sometimes the mountain would move in front of the tree.” She was shaking her head. “But Dory is teaching me with things I already understand.”
“Like what?”
“Well, she pulled out yarn, for example. I use that in my craft projects all the time. So, she had me use pieces of yarn to form the different letters. I used red yarn to write ‘red,’ and brown yarn to write ‘cat,’ which is fuzzy and brown like the yarn. She kept saying the words as I wrote them. You know, Madelyn, she even told me that tracing the letters is a good idea. I just laughed and told her I’ve been doing that for years, but it never helped. She pointed out, rightly so, that I wasn’t tracing them so I could learn the words. I was only doing it so I could turn in assignments. I suppose I’ve already got the skill, now I just need to focus on why I’m doing it.”
“That’s kind of funny, Mom.”
“Yes, somewhat ironic, I know. Madelyn, the letters are more than individual letters. I can see how they’re part of something bigger. It’s like all the pieces I gather to make an art project. Together they make something interesting or amazing. You look at it, and you don’t see the individual parts, only the whole. That’s the way words are. I just never understood that before.” She was gesturing with her hands, and her voice was animated, even when she added, “It is still hard, so hard, but I’m not afraid of the work—at least not when I can see that it will work. We can do this, Madelyn. We can do this.”
Madelyn almost couldn’t get the words out, “Yes, we can.”
Friday
They soon settled into a routine, one that would have taken them to the end of the summer—if things hadn’t conspired to change it. The routine was simple enough. Right after breakfast, Mom would go to Aunt Dory’s or she would come over to their house to work for a couple hours. Then most afternoons, Mom would spend about an hour reading with a different retired teacher, usually in their homes. She finished both of these exhausted, but she never backed away, and the newfound light in her eyes never dimmed. If she wasn’t too tired at night, all the kids would take turns reading bedtime stories with her—something other than what she had memorized.
With all the warm weather they’d been having, they were reaping a bountiful harvest from their garden. As often as Madelyn could, she’d take a basket of fresh vegetables over to Aunt Dory’s house to share.
“Thank you, Madelyn,” she’d always say, but she was thanking Madelyn for more than the vegetables. Helping Mom to read was clearly the highlight of her day. Becoming an honorary member of their family didn’t hurt either.
Despite all the good news—and Mom’s determined efforts were definitely good news—it had not escaped Madelyn’s notice that even though Mom said she wanted to read her father’s letter, she’d never mentioned it again. With that gnawing at her, the second letter riding around in Madelyn’s back pocket ate at her even more.
Working outside on the yard, or at least pretending to, became an escape. She was proud of her mom, but at the same time, she was uncomfortable with the closely-guarded secrets, fearing they would come between them.
Half-heartedly, Madelyn dug up a few dandelions in the side yard. If she were determined, the lawn would be green with no yellow polka dots by the time Dad returned. That was the only motivational thought she could come up with.
“Hey, how’s it going? Can you use some help?” Zane had appeared out of nowhere, moving in close enough to block the sun.
Madelyn’s day was immediately better. “Hey, yourself. I’m not sure you want to dig up dandelions, but be my guest.”
“All right,” Zane said, sitting on the ground beside her, without making any real overtures toward the dandelions.
Madelyn had been kneeling over her work but sat back when he joined her. She was certain he could hear the slight crinkly sound of paper from her back pocket as she did so, but his face betrayed nothing. She sighed. “Zane, read this,” she said, pulling the now opened letter from its hiding place.
“What is it?”
“It’s from my grandpa to my mom.” He raised his eyes but didn’t ask the obvious question, much to her relief. He spread it out on the grass in front of them, silently reading the words, while she reread them for the tenth time.
Dear Rachel,<
br />
I hope you’re doing well. I know you haven’t responded to the other letter I wrote, but I thought I would reach out to you one more time. If what I asked is too much, then please don’t worry about it. But if not, I could use your help. Would you please come visit?
I don’t blame you for not coming to see me. I completely understand. But I hope you will reconsider and that I might see you soon. Please watch over Tommy for me.
Love,
Pop
“What is it?” Zane said.
“I’m not sure.” She started picking at the grass around her. Afraid to meet his eyes, she spoke to the dirt instead. “He’s in prison. I don’t know why, but that’s where this letter came from. It fits too. He hasn’t been around. We haven’t seen him for quite a while, and Mom gets evasive if I ask where he is.”
Zane was silent, but when she dared look up to see his expression, it was sad and full of concern, not repulsion, like she had feared. “I found the letter in the mailbox last week. I haven’t given it to my mom yet. There was another letter from him at the beginning of the summer, only I didn’t realize it at the time. But now … well, his home was broken into, and it was clear he wasn’t living there. I tried to ask about it, but I couldn’t get a straight answer. This letter, or at least the postmark, have given me more information than I had before.”
“Why did you open it? It doesn’t say much.”
She let out a sigh. “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t going to open it, but everything seems to be going so well. Everyone’s so happy about Mom—and I am too—but there’s still something wrong, something missing. And no one else seems to care or notice. I thought maybe if I opened it, I’d find some answers. But all I have is more questions.”
“Well, then we’ll just have to find the answers on our own then.”
Dandelion Summer Page 16
