Page 56 of Redemption Ridge Vol II

“Yes, but I think I let my problem go too long.”

“Nonsense,” Wendy said. “I help people of all ages learn to read better. I worked for the local school district before I had my own children. I loved the educators, students, and the principal, but I had a major conflict with the superintendent and board members, who didn’t think intervention specialists were necessary. I refused to put my kids through the district, and private school was too expensive, so I used my education background at home. Now, I volunteer for a nonprofit that offers assistance where schools either can’t or won’t help. We also have evening classes for adults who’ve embraced that it’s never too late to learn.”

Never too late. That reminded Owen of the book he’d given to his mom for Christmas. He’d wanted to encourage her to follow her dreams while completely discounting his own. In fact, he’d never permitted himself to dream of any type of future beyond loving Tyler. If Owen wanted to provide Ty with the life he deserved—they deserved—he’d need to put himself out there and be the best version of himself. Howie was right about that. He couldn’t sit around and wait for stars to align or for magic to happen; Owen needed to create his own miracle. “Never too late,” he repeated.

“Did you get tested for dyslexia?” Wendy asked.

Owen shook his head. “I was too stubborn,” he admitted sheepishly.

Wendy smiled gently. “That’s a very common reaction.” She leaned forward and added, “Especially with young boys. Male pride starts at an early age, and boys equate needing help as being weak. Sound familiar?”

Owen briefly pursed his lips. “Maybe a little.” He straightened up and got serious. “But I’ve outgrown most of that stupidity. You can trust Tyler with me.”

“I trust my son to make his own decisions,” Wendy replied. “Despite the rodeo thing, Tyler has always had a good head on his shoulders and is an excellent judge of character. If I’d loosened up a little and let him know I had faith in him, I might not have pushed him away.”

Owen much preferred it when Wendy’s eyes sparkled with mischief or mirth over the sadness filling her eyes with tears. “Don’t forget Mistress Divine,” Owen added.

A loud bark of laughter boomed from her tiny frame before she slapped a hand over her mouth. Tyler had told him about Wendy’s bawdy laugh, and Owen was so grateful to witness it in person. She dropped her hand and inched closer. “He told you about that?” When Owen nodded, Wendy sighed and rolled her eyes. “I knew he’d gone into the tent and dismissed his curiosity as harmless. Tyler would hand over a few bucks, and a lady in a costume would give him a generic spiel. Imagine my surprise when I read the paper the next morning and discovered Mistress Divine used the tent for more lucrative hustles. I would never have been able to look people in the eyes if Tyler had gotten caught up in the raid.” Wendy’s grin grew sly. “I never asked what message she’d given him. Did he tell you?”

Owen figured it wouldn’t hurt to reveal this little secret. “She told Tyler he was on the dawn of awareness.”

Wendy blinked for a few moments before more bawdy laughter erupted. She didn’t try to hold it back this time, and Owen joined her. Tears streamed down Wendy’s face, and she wiped them away as she pulled herself together. “Yeah, I bet he was. I saw her mugshot in the paper, and she was a stunner.” She giggled a few more times and pressed her hand to her chest. “No wonder he eagerly accepted his month-long grounding. Tyler didn’t complain once about spending time alone in his room. His showers got longer, and I wore cleaning gloves when I washed his laundry.”

A chuckle rumbled through Owen as he realized Wendy wasn’t as uptight as Tyler suspected. He didn’t think he could possibly like her more until she spent the rest of their cleaning time telling him about young Tyler’s antics. Owen knew his love had an ornery side to him, of course, but it was fun to learn the origin of his mischievous streak. After they finished, Wendy invited Owen to her office, which was next to the kitchen. She pulled out a basket of books and tools she used as an educator.

“I could give you a proper assessment this weekend,” Wendy said. “But based on what you’ve described, I think it’s safe to say you have dyslexia. We can do a simple test with these.” She held up colorful transparent plastic strips that looked like rulers but without the numbers. “We call these Eye Lighters because they highlight lines of text to make it easier for you to read. The wider the strip, the more text you can get within its frame. To start, let’s not overwhelm you with a lot of words at one time.” Wendy picked a random paperback off her shelf and handed it to him with the thinnest Eye Lighter. “Try it and see if that helps.”

Excitement warred with apprehension. Could something like this really help him? And what if it didn’t? Hope was as enticing as it was terrifying.

“There are many other tools available,” Wendy said, as if she sensed his apprehension. “Some are high-tech gadgets like features on phones that read text out loud or apps with special software to help you read the text yourself. Some tools are simpler, like specialized fonts for computers and e-readers. I also have old-school workbooks to help you improve your reading and handwriting. And Owen,” she said, placing a hand on his forearm, “there are adult learning centers that can assist adults with dyslexia. If getting your GED is something you want to do, I promise you these centers can and will accommodate your needs. I can help you find a center close to the ranch, but only if that’s what you want.”

Owen held her gaze for several moments. This wasn’t the weekend he’d expected. He’d hoped for the best but braced himself for a frosty reception, if not hostile. The Booths had greeted Owen with welcoming warmth and acceptance, and Wendy offered him a solution to a problem that had plagued him his whole life—one that he’d allowed to define his worth. Tears of gratitude and hope filled his eyes, but he didn’t hide them from her. “Yes,” Owen said for the boy who’d felt stupid, hopeless, and unworthy. “Yes,” he repeated for the man who dared to dream. “I want that very much.”

Wendy squeezed his arm and removed her hand. “Try the Eye Lighter first to see if it helps.”

Owen flipped the book over and noticed the bare-chested man with long blond hair and a seductive sneer on his lips. He sat astride a sleek black horse with a busty redhead in the saddle in front of him. The bottom of her elegant gown hung low to reveal the upper swell of her breast. There was a menacing-looking pirate ship anchored offshore in the background. He set the Eye Lighter over the title and smiled as the letters formed words he could slowly decipher. “The Pirate’s Bride,” he read aloud.

“Um, maybe not that one,” Wendy said before she snatched it away and tucked it back among the educational books on the shelves. She took her time choosing the next selection before presenting it to Owen.

He set it down and used the reading aid to scan the title. “I Believe,” Owen read. The subtitle claimed the book would help a person unlock the secrets to self-confidence and uncover the power of self-love. Old habits are hard to subdue, but Owen wrestled the urge to scoff into submission. He flipped to the first page and slowly stumbled through what turned out to be a greeting from the author where she explained what a person could expect to find in the book. It took him a while to get through the first paragraph, but it intrigued Owen enough to finish the message. He was eager to continue to turn the page and keep reading.

“There you are,” Tyler said from the doorway behind Owen.

The relief in his voice made Owen turn in his chair to face him. Holding up the book and Eye Lighter for Tyler to see, he said, “Your mom is helping me figure some things out.”

Tyler shifted his gaze from Owen to his mother. “Thank you, Mama.”

“My pleasure.” Wendy pushed back from her desk and stood up. “Why don’t we head out to the family room so the others can get to know Owen too.” She smiled at him and added, “We can work on this more tomorrow if you want.”

Owen nodded enthusiastically and followed Tyler back to the kitchen. Turned out the family got to know Owen very well through a series of games—Candy Land, gin rummy, and Chutes and Ladders. By the time they trudged upstairs to Tyler’s old room, Owen was ready to collapse. He stared at the twin beds—the first disappointment of the night.

“I forgot the folks converted my bedroom into the grandkids’ room for sleepovers,” Tyler said.

Owen took in the pale blue walls with their space-themed mural and the star-shaped stickers on the ceiling that would glow in the dark when they turned off the light. The comforters featured rockets and cartoon astronauts. It was an adorable setup for a kid, but it kind of made Owen feel uneasy about the things he’d wanted to do with Tyler once they were alone. They’d been on each other like white on rice, and it wouldn’t kill them to sleep in separate beds for a few days. “Where are the kids sleeping, then?”

“In their own beds at home,” Tyler said. “This setup is for when they spend the night or weekends with my folks.”

Owen nodded. “Do you want left or right?”