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She ran into her apartment to get a few things, then joined him in the car.
Both seemed preoccupied during the drive. Abby helped him unload the picnic basket, her thoughts racing at breakneck speed. She folded the tablecloth she’d brought over a picnic table while Tate spread out a blanket under a shady tree. They hardly spoke.
“Abby—”
“Tate—”
They both began together.
“You first,” Abby murmured, and sat down, drawing up her legs and circling them with both arms, then resting her chin on her bent knees.
Tate remained standing, hands in his pockets as he paced. Again, something was obviously troubling him.
“Tate, what is it?”
“I didn’t know it would be so hard to tell you,” he said wryly, and shook his head. “I meant to explain weeks ago.”
What was he talking about?
His gaze settled on her, then flickered to the ground. “I tried to tell you Friday night after the movie, but I couldn’t get the words out.” He ran a weary hand over his face and fell to his knees at her side.
Abby reached for his hand and held it.
“Abby.” He released a ragged breath. “I can’t read. I’ll pay you any amount if you’ll teach me.”
Five
In one brilliant flash everything about Tate fell into place. He hadn’t been captivated by her charm and natural beauty. He’d overheard her teaching Mai-Ling how to read and known she could help him. That was the reason he’d sought her out and cultivated a friendship. She could help him.
Small things became clear in her mind. No wonder Tate ordered the same thing she did in a restaurant. Naturally their date on Friday night had been awkward. He’d been trying to tell her then. How could she have been so blind?
Even now he studied her intently, awaiting her response. His eyes glittered with pride, insecurity, and fear. She recognized all those emotions and understood them now.
“Of course I’ll teach you,” she said reassuringly.
“I’ll pay you anything you ask.”
“Tate.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “I wouldn’t take anything. We’re friends.”
“But I can afford to pay you.” He took a wad of bills from his pocket and breathed in slowly, glancing at the money in his hand.
Again Abby realized how difficult admitting his inability to read had been. “Put that away,” Abby said calmly. “You won’t be needing it.”
Tate stuffed the bills back in his pocket. “You don’t know how relieved I am to have finally told you,” he muttered hoarsely.
“I don’t think I could have been more obtuse,” she said, still shocked at her own stupidity. “I’m amazed you’ve gotten along as well as you have. I was completely fooled.”
“I’ve become adept at this. I’ve done it from the time I was in grade school.”
“What happened?” Abby asked softly, although she could guess.
A sadness stole into his eyes. “I suppose it’s because of all those times I was pulled out of school so we could move,” he said unemotionally. “We left New Mexico in the middle of first grade and I never finished the year. Because I was tall for my age, my mother put me in second grade the following September. The teacher wanted to hold me back but we moved again. And again and again.” A bitterness infected his voice. “By the time I was in junior high and we’d moved to Minneapolis, I had devised all kinds of ways to disguise the fact that I couldn’t read. I was the class clown, the troublemaker, the boy who’d do anything to get out of going to school.”
“Oh Tate.” Her heart swelled with compassion.
Sitting beside her, Tate rubbed his hand across his face and smiled grimly. “But the hardest part was getting up the courage to tell you.”
“You’ve never told anyone else, have you?”
