Travis
One phone call to Jaco, and I had an appointment the next day with a physiologist with a PHD in learning disabilities, only an hour and a half away from Miami Place. The man stood up to shake my hand from behind his wide, cluttered desk after pushing his glasses back up his nose from where they had slipped. He didn't seem very thrilled about our meeting. An annoyed furrow sat between his white eyebrows, giving him a pinched look.
"You must know people in high places, Mr. Miliani. I, as you can imagine, am a busy man, and my courses are coning to the end of the semester."
As I had guessed, he wasn't happy about this. Knowing Jaco, he'd called the president of the university where this guy taught and had him order Dr. Michael Roberto to meet me today.
"I'm sorry that I've come during a bad time for you. I leave town tomorrow, and there's some business that I need handled before I go back to California."
The man's time was obviously important, so I wasn't going to waste it. I pulled the piece of paper Blair had left crumpled on the floorboard of Karleah's Mercedes when she scrambled out in panic. Every time I looked at it, I remembered her struggle, and it made something inside me ache.
I handed him the paper.
" I had asked the person who wrote this to write down three-three-three Berkly Road. If that person is an adult around the age of twenty-two and struggled to write this much, what do you think that means? Why would she write that? And why would it be so difficult and send her into a panic?"
The doctor frowned down at the paper.
"Twenty-two, you say?" He asked.
"Yes, sir." I replied.
"Are you asking me for you or for her? Surely a twenty-two year old who suffers this severely has already been diagnosed in school or as a child and knows what her problem is."
He knew what the problem was. My heart sped up.
"No, she doesn't know. She couldn't finish high school. She can't pass tests. She been told she's.... Stupid. But she's not. Not at all."
The doctor muttered a curse and sat back down in his chair, looking at the paper I'd given him.
"I thought that by this day and age, our public school systems were more adept at labelling and dealing with learning disabilities. Especially one as common as dyslexia. Tell me, does she read?"
Dyslexia. Fuck me.
I'd known someone with dyslexia in school. He had special classes and a tutor who helped him everyday. He ended up passing and graduating with honors. No one had helped Blair, and it had been this simple.
A lump formed in my throat, and I pressed my fist into my thighs. Anger, relief, and frustration all coursed through me at once.
"No, she can't read. She tries, but she struggles. I need to get her help. Someone who can help her read and write. She struggles daily with things that are so simple to everyone we, and she thinks its because her brain isn't all there. I will pay whatever price."
Fuck, I wanted to roar in protest. It was just pure injustice and neglect.
"I know a professor in Chicago city. He is younger, but this is a condition that is near and dear to his heart. His father suffered from the same thing and didn't learn to read or write until he was fifty years old. Ryker VanWoodson has had several adult cases that have ended successfully. He even works at a school for dyslexia in a less fortunate neighborhood pro bono, several afternoons a week.
I will give him a call and have him contact you as soon as possible."
A man. Blair didn't do well around men.
"Is there a female who can do the same thing? Men make her nervous."
Michael frowned.
"I don't know offhand of a woman in that area who can help with someone who suffers as severely or has been as neglected as your friend. But I assure you, Dr. VanWoodson is a nice man. He'll set her at ease."
Maybe she would let Owen go with her. She trusted him. Fuck, I needed to stay. But I couldn't. My life and responsibilities were back in California. I had done this much. Now it was up to Blair to take the next step. I couldn't force her.
"Okay, thankyou sir. I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me."
He nodded, no longer looking as annoyed as he had when I arrived.
"She'll need testing to confirm my diagnosis, but from what you've told me, and what this says"- he held up the paper I gave him- " it's dyslexia."
He reached for a pad and pen, and slid them to me.
"Give her info and yours. I'll have Dr. VanWoodson contact you either later today or tomorrow, depending on his schedule."
Blair was going to have a chance. I was going to give her one.
I waited to call Blair until I heard from Ryker VanWoodson. Twice I had caught myself about to text her when I realized she won't be able to read a text or text me back, so I stopped myself.
Instead, I spent the rest of my day and evening with Karleah, Dave, and Adelia Jane at the beach, then went back to De's to pack my things. I needed to leave as soon as I got the call from the professor.
Before ten the next morning, Ryker VanWoodson, called me and said he was very interested in helping Blair. He even sounded excited and intrigued by her situation. His price wasn't cheap, but he explained that he was fitting her into a very tight schedule. He asked me questions that I didn't know the answers to.
She had shared very little of her past with me. I gave him her contact information and told him I would be going to talk to her today. I hope she would call the professor on her own after I left, but if he didn't hear from her in two days' time, he assured me he, would give her a call.
Blair was was home when I called her to ask if I could stop by to talk. Now here I was, back at her apartment door, hoping she would take this chance and use it. I couldn't do anymore than this. Even if I wanted to stay and hold her hand, that wasn't possible.
I had horses and a ranch to get back home to. Blair opened the door on the first knock and smiled shyly at me before stepping back to let me in. Her hair was down today. Long, dark, silky layers hung halfway down her back in soft waves. It had curl. Damn, that was better than I had imagined. I had to clear my throat to calm my instant lust.
"I like your hair down," I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Blair's cheeks turned pink, and a pleased smile touched her lips. Someone had to have told he that before.
"Thankyou," she replied softly.
I stepped inside and tore my gaze off her long legs, on complete display in those shorts. Even the brightly stripped socks that came half way up her calves didn't distract from those legs of hers.
"Can I get you something to drink?"
Her voice wavered like she was nervous.
"Uh, yeah, thanks." I replied knowing that I didn't have time to drink anything.
I needed to give her the details and get to the airport. She started walking to the little corner of the room, that was her kitchen.
"I have orange juice, and I just made some lemonade. Sorry I don't have a large selection," she said, glancing back at me.
"Lemonade sounds good."
She beamed like it pleased her that I wanted to try her lemonade. I watched ad she pulled down a glass from the open shelves she had instead of actual cabinents.
Everything was neatly arranged. The food shelves were even organized. I needed her to cone to my place and do my cabinets. They were a fucking nightmare to find anything in.
Ice clinked in the glass, and I shifted my gaze back to her. She poured some lemonade, then put the pitcher back into the narrow fridge. There couldn't be much room in that thing.
"When you were in school, did anyone ever mention that you could have dyslexia?" I asked, as she brought me the drink.
She paused mid step. Then she continued walking towards me.
"No, but I've heard of that. I just don't know what it is exactly."
I took the glass and sat down on the chair across from the sofa.
"The specialist I met with yesterday believes that is what you suffer from. Dyslexia does not mean you are in anyway less intelligent than other people. I've been put into contact with a professor who has a PHD in learning disorders. He specializes in dyslexia. He's willing to work with you free of charge after hearing about your problems. His father also was never diagnosed and didn't learn to read and write until he was fifty years of age. This is a passion of his now. He wants to help people. He wants to help you."
Blair sank down onto the sofa, looking at me with many emotions crossing her face. But the dominant one was fear. I didn't want her to be scared of this. I wanted to give her hope.
"Tell me what you're thinking," I encouraged her.
She gripped her hands tightly in her lap.
"What- what of we find out that's not it, and you went to all this trouble. I might just be stu-"
"Don't let me hear you call yourself that again. It infuriates me, Blair. I'm serious. You are the farthest thing from that. I promise you.
And if that's not your problem, Dr. VanWoodson will find out what it is. This is a learning disability. It can be conquered."
She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. I could see her wanting to hope for this. I just had to persuade her to take the opportunity and try it.
"He can figure out what my problem is if it isn't dyslexia?" She asked, looking at me with those wide, baby-blue eyes that did things to my chest.
"Yes, he can."
She let out a small laugh, then covered her mouth as a sob broke free. I wasn't sure if I should comfort her or wait it out, but then she stood up and launched herself at me. All tbh cinnamon sweetness engulfed my senses.
"Thankyou... I don't even know... That's not even enough. I can't find the right words. But just... Thankyou," she said, as she let out another sob, still holding tightly onto me.
I gently wrapped my arms around her and tried like hell not to think about how good her fits felt pressed up against me. She was emotional and thank in me; I was not going to take advantage of this.
"You're welcome. I am glad you're willing to do this. I think you're bound for great things, Blair. You just needed someone to give you a lift up."
She pulled back to look at me and gave me a watery smile, then burried her forehead in my chest.
" I can't believe you. I don't know why you wanted to help me or what I did to deserve this. I woke you up by singing, and I know my singing is horrible and was probably very loud. And I broke your mirror an made a mess that I haven't even cleaned up yet, and I bled on you. I just don't know why all that led up to you doing something like this for me. But thankyou."
She barely stopped for a breath as she let out all her feelings against my chest.
Smiling, I reached out and touched her hair. I had been fighting the urge since I'd walked in and saw that it was down. Just as I'd imagined, it was silky.
"You broke my sister's mirror, and I don't care much for De. Besides, she can afford to replace it. You never bled on me, just the floor, and I've cleaned up that mess. Its long gone. As for your singing, yes, its horrible, but there's something about you, Blair. That makes me want to ease that lost look in your eyes."
She went very still in my arms, then loosened her hold on me and pulled back to look at me before untangling herself from around my neck and moved away, but only by a few inches. A grin tugged at her lips.
"My singing is horrible, isn't it?"
Then she laughed.
"God, I was so embarrassed when I turned around and saw you standing there."
She shook her head.
"I can cook better than I can sing, I promise. Can I make you dinner tonight? I want to do something for you."
Never had I been upset about getting new horses to board. I liked money, and I needed horses to keep the ranch running. But I'll be damned if I wasn't resenting them right about now.
"I have to go." I told her.
The light in her eyes dimmed but only for a moment.
"That's right. You have to go back to California. I forgot."
I nodded.
"I have to get to the airport right away."
I stood up, and she backed away, putting more space between us. I didn't want her to back away. She took all that cinnamon and sugar smell with her.
"Dr. VanWoodson has your number, but here is his contact information. Call him. He's expecting you to call him. He will only contact you, if you don't."
She took the paper in my hand and nodded.
"I will. Today." She replied.
"Good."
I needed to leave, but here I stood, staring at her.
"Thankyou, again. Really. I may say this a million more times."
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
"You don't have to do that. But I'd like for you to call me after your meeting with him. I will be curious about how things go. Keep me updated."
She beamed at me.
"Yes. I can do that."
With one last look at her, I headed for the door. I had to get out of here before I reached out and pulled that shiny hair back over to me, so I could smell her cinnamon scent and get tangled in all those silky locks.
"Be careful!" She called out to me.
I opened the door, then glanced back at her and winked.
"Always."