Phyllis Halldorson - A Man Worth Marrying

“Me?” Eve asked, surprised. “But I don’t tutor private students. I just give a little help to those in my class who show potential and a willingness to work hard in order to learn. What I do is strictly on a volunteer basis. I don’t charge either the parents or the school district, but I do insist that the children attend every class, pay attention and do the light homework I assign.”

He leaned forward in his chair. “But that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do for Tinker, except I’d prefer that you work one-on-one with her—and, of course, I’ll pay you. Erik Johnson says you’re getting amazing results with your small group of students, and Erik’s word is good enough for me.”

She felt warmed by the compliment. “That’s very nice of you to say. I gather you know our district superintendent?”

He grinned. “Oh, yes. We in the media are on a firstname basis with most of the community leaders. It’s to our mutual advantage. We give them public exposure for their pet projects, and they give us news tips. Come on, what do you say? Will you help my little girl?”

When he put it like that, it was hard to refuse him. But she really didn’t have time to take on anything else. Surely someone with his money and contacts wouldn’t have any trouble finding another teacher to tutor his child.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Flint—”

“Please call me Gray,” he interrupted. “Grayson is too formal, and Mr. Flint is my father.”

He smiled winningly, and though she knew she was being manipulated, she couldn’t help being flattered. Still, she wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

“All right, Gray, and I’m Eve. But much as I’d like to work with your daughter, I just can’t take on anything more at this time. I’m sure there are other teachers in the area who would be willing—”

Again he interrupted. “I don’t want just anyone, Eve, I want the best. Ideally that would be a teacher specially trained in reading disorders, but the only one who was available here with those credentials was let go last year because of the budget crisis. That’s why I asked Erik Johnson for a recommendation, and he said there is no one better in the area than you.”

“I’m flattered, truly I am,” she said, “but—”

“He also told me you tutored one of his children who has dyslexia, and that that child is now making straight As in high school.”

She sighed. “That’s true, but that was when I was still in college, and a lot of it was just dumb luck.”

“Not according to Erik. His praise for your skill as a teacher is boundless. He tells me you’ve even discussed the possibility of going back to school and getting credentials in teaching special education.”

She wished Mr. Johnson wouldn’t be so vocal in his praise of her. It’s true that his young son had been an especially difficult case, and that after several starts and stops she’d finally managed to capture his attention and turn him on to learning. Unfortunately, his father’s gratitude knew no bounds, and sometimes put her in an awkward position, like this one.

“I would like to get into the field of special education. yes, but right now I can’t do justice to the youngsters I’m already responsible for if I take on more. My regular class is so overcrowded that it’s not possible for me to give the students as much of my time as they need, so I choose the ones I feel are most likely to learn with a little extra help. I tutor them for half an hour after school on Mondays through Thursdays. That doesn’t leave me much time for anything else.”

She tapped her pencil on her desktop. “I don’t mean to get personal, Gray, but I have no doubt that you can afford a tutor for your child. The parents of my students can’t. If I don’t give them extra time and help, it’s unlikely they’ll ever catch up and be productive citizens—even though the potential is there.”

He frowned. “Of course I can afford to pay a tutor, and I’m prepared to pay you whatever you feel is fair. It’s not the expense I’m concerned about, it’s the quality of the help she’ll be getting. She tries so hard, but learning is difficult for her and it’s affecting her self-esteem. She’s at the awkward stage, anyway, and being so far behind her classmates in school just adds to her burdens.”

Eve’s heart melted. He was right—his youngster could be permanently damaged emotionally if she didn’t receive expert help soon. But what could she do? She was no expert on dyslexia. Gray probably knew more about it than she did. He’d been dealing with it—albeit unknowingly—for all of his daughter’s life. Plus, Eve could only stretch her time and energy so far.

“I have no right to put my little girl’s problems on your shoulders. It’s just that I’m so worried about her. Her mother and I have handled this wrong right from the beginning. Except for the fact that her speech was difficult to understand, Tinker was always bright and cheerful before she started school. But that all changed once she got in first grade. We realized that some of her antics we’d thought were deliberate were actually the result of clumsiness, and she didn’t seem to know her right hand from her left. Her grades got steadily worse, and we thought she was just not paying attention. We tried to help her but she was so easily distracted and frustrated—”

“Those are classic signs of dyslexia,” Eve interrupted, “but they could also signal other problems. Believe me, you’re not alone in this. Actually, you were lucky to have caught on so quickly. Some dyslexic children aren’t diagnosed until they’re in middle or even high school.”

Gray had his back to her, so she couldn’t see his expression, but she saw him nod his head. “We know that now, but at the time we scolded her, even punished her—”

His voice broke, and Eve had to use all her self-control to stay where she was and not get up and go over to him. She was here to teach the children, not to comfort their fathers, but with this father it was hard to remember that!

She cleared her throat. “That’s a natural reaction. After all, you had no way of knowing she wasn’t just goofing off. Please, don’t blame yourself. These things happen, and it’s not anybody’s fault.

“By the way, I don’t think I caught her name correctly. It sounded as if you were calling her Tinker.”

This time he turned to face her before answering. “No, you didn’t hear wrong. Her mother is the free-spirited type, and she wanted to name the baby Tinkerbell after the character in Peter Pan, but I wouldn’t allow it. Who ever heard of a Tinkerbell growing up to be CEO of a company, or president of the United States?”

Eve chuckled. “I see you have grand ambitions for your daughter.”

A ghost of a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t all parents? But truly, all I want for her is to be happy, and giving her a name like that would only subject her to ridicule. I insisted we name her Sarah, but her mother didn’t like that and started calling her Tinker. It stuck.”

Eve sensed a family squabble of serious proportions over the naming of the child, and knew she should not probe, but she was curious.

“By which name does your daughter prefer to be called?” she asked.

“Oh, everyone calls her Tinker now. Even me,” he admitted. “She hardly remembers she has another name. I stopped calling her Sarah when she was younger—I realized it just confused her.”

His gaze roamed over Eve. “While we’re on the subject of names, are you by any chance related to Alexander Costopoulos, the building contractor?”

“He’s my father,” Eve told him. “Do you know him?”

“Sure do. He added a couple of rooms to the television station last year. How is Alex? I seem to remember hearing he’d fallen at one of the construction sites and broken some bones.”