Page 14 of Sweet Courage

“But he’s right there,” Mason whined, his voice peaking into a register that made Hanson’s own temples throb in sympathy.

“He’s getting acclimated,” Alice reminded her grandson, her tone mild but firm. “Do you have any chores to do before Kat gets here?”

Disappointment shining in the boy’s eyes, he dug a toe into the dirt and shoulders sagging, softly muttered, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Then you’d best get to it. Ms. Kat will be here shortly.”

That made Hanson stand a little straighter and battle a sudden urge to grin like a fool.

“I’ll let you all get to it.” Hanson took a deliberate step back. He couldn’t help noticing the way the dog, now a bit more settled at Sarah Sue’s side, kept his gaze on Hanson. He wouldn’t have expected the dog, despite his training, to want to play with the enthusiastic boy. Then again, if anyone understood how feeling out of step with your surroundings could unsettle a person, he could. Shaking his head, he took another step aside. “I should go get cleaned up.”

Everyone nodded, but Alice shared a knowing grin that took him slightly aback. There was something unnerving about a woman who seemed to know more about him than he did. And yet, it was somewhat reassuring at the same time. How was that even possible?

“You are doing a great job!” Kat stacked the tile cards into their case and clicked it shut. Mason had nailed every silent E word she threw at him and by the end he’d been practically bouncing off the kitchen chair, which was either enthusiasm or the three shortbread cookies Alice had slipped him when she thought Kat wasn’t looking. Either way, the energy in the room had been considerably higher than an afternoon of tutoring warranted.

“Do we get to play with the tiles again next time?” Mason had both elbows on the table, chin in his hands, his expression almost as delighted as a kid anticipating a visit with Santa.

“Absolutely.” Nothing could make Kat happier than to see one of her kiddos not only learning to master reading, but having fun along the way. She loved that he considered learning, playing—at least for now.

The boy flashed a gap-toothed grin and was off the chair and out the back door before she’d finished zipping the bag, the screen door announcing his exit with its characteristic smack.

Emerging from the pantry, Alice smiled at her. “Things seem to be going well.”

She nodded.

“There’s lemonade on the porch if you’re not in a hurry.”

She should be in a hurry. She had plenty of work to do, but when she opened her mouth, “That sounds nice,” came out instead maybe another time.

Leaving her bag on the table and walking onto the back porch, the setting looked suitable for a Norman Rockwell painting. A large pitcher of what was most likely fresh squeezed not powdered lemonade was on a round wicker table, a stack of clear plastic glasses beside it for anyone so inclined to quench their thirst. In the far corner, in a large open door crate, the new K9 to the ranch rested with his head on his front paws. The dog’s gaze darted everywhere, his ears twitched to match the flaring of his nostrils. Poor boy was probably trying to orient himself with other sensations than sound.

Hanson came around the side of the house with Mason attached to his elbow, the boy chattering at a velocity that suggested the shortbread had definitely been a factor in the kiddos enthusiasm levels.

“Mason,” his grandmother called from inside the kitchen. “I have your snack ready.” The way Mason bolted past everyone and ran inside, someone might think Santa was in the house as well.

“How is he doing?” Remaining on the ground below, Hanson tipped his head in the direction Mason had just run past and settled one booted foot on the step above.

The simple easy gesture almost had her catching her breath. Sin on a stick rushed to the forefront of her thoughts before she managed to shake the words aside and return the question at hand. “Not bad, actually. Until now, reading has been excruciating for Mason. It’s even harder when you can’t understand something that all your friends are excelling at.” Kat took a slow sip. “Think of dyslexia as a big umbrella. There are multiple issues under that umbrella and not all kids have everyone. For Mason one thing he struggles with is directionality, so what makes sense on the blackboard in class may not when he looks down to the paper on his desk. This is also a processing issue. He might happily tell you Austin is the capital of Texas, but if you turn that around and ask the Texas state capital is where? He could stare at you for days and not find the answer.”

His gaze was steady on her, intent, almost as if listening took great effort.

“Part of that is the lack of a retrieval system.”

Now Hanson frowned, his head tilting slightly to one side as if that would make comprehension easier.

“Think of his brain as a filing cabinet. The average person receives a sheet of paper with information and files it in a cabinet. They find the proper alphabet divider, then they seek out the appropriate subfolder and file it away to be retrieved easily when needed.”

“Makes sense,” he nodded.

“Only for Mason, imagine he’s filed the information away, but when he goes to retrieve it, someone has removed all the alphabetic dividers and to make matters worse, they’ve also removed all the file folders. So, now he has a drawer full of papers and has to dig through each one to find the information he needs.”

“If he can find it at all.” Hanson went perfectly still. His gaze stayed fixed on her, but there was no missing the rigid set of his jaw. The silence stretched for a few seconds. “So what do you do when the frustration hits?”

“We stop. Reset. Use different tools. That’s what my job is. To teach him all the tools at his disposal to help him get through. Hitting a brick wall over and over doesn’t break the wall, it just gives you a headache.”

“What if there are no tools?”

Her heart tightened. No doubt he was just now finding the parallels with Mason and his own life. Different problems, no magic pill answer for either. “There are always tools. In Mason’s case he’s learning alphabetic phonics now. When he learns the rules of how words work, then he’ll eventually be able to tackle any word that was not sight recognizable before. Then there is an extensive list of organizing tools. We’ll eventually start using folders and color coding to keep track of all his work and assignments, and he’ll probably have to do that all through his academic and eventually professional career.”