Charlie shakes his head. “I’m not good at reading. I don’t do the counting good, either. I work for Fred.”
He looks at the book with what seems to me to be longing, despite what he just told me. “Go ahead and borrow it,” I say. “The more you read, the better you’ll get at it, you know.”
Charlie picks up the book and turns to the first page. He has a puzzled look on his face, as if the words on the page are written in another language.
“Where do you go to school, Charlie?”
“Oh. I don’t go to school anymore. No. I just work for Fred.”
I can see how much he wants to be able to read those words. I feel sorry for him. To be sixteen and unable to read! If Evie were in the room, she’d probably burst into tears. I wonder how his parents could’ve failed him so miserably.
“Here.” I pull the book from his hands; shove my pile of clothes, the doll, and the quilt to one side; and pat the bed. “Have a seat.”
I sit down and wait for him. He just stands there.
I pat the mattress again. “Sit down. I’ll help you get started.”
He finally ambles over to me and sits down beside me. He has the most amazed look on his face, likeIam the sand fairy about to grant him his wish for the day.
I open the book and point to the first word of the first chapter. “Can you read that?”
He smiles shyly and shakes his head.
“Sure you can. You did go to school, didn’t you?”
“I work for Fred now.”
“Yes, I know that. But when you were a little boy, you went to school, right? And your teacher taught you your letters?”
His grin spreads wide. “I do know my letters.”
“Well. See? Words are just letters put together. If you know your letters, you can learn the words. And if you can learn the words, you can read. Here. I’ll show you.”
He and I pore over that first page, sounding out every word at a wretchedly slow pace. I don’t know how long we are absorbed in the task. Long enough for him to be missed downstairs, I guess. Because next thing I know, there is someone else in the room—a young man with wavy brown hair, slate blue eyes, and Charlie’s kind features. But this man is thinner. Taller. He is smiling down on me, and for a second I feel like all the clocks in all the world have stopped. Our eyes catch each other’s, and it’s a breath or two before the world starts turning again.
“Well, here you are, Charlie. We were all wondering where you were,” the young man says. “Time to head back home.”
“She was reading,” Charlie says.
“Youwere reading.” I close the book and put it in his lap. “Take it with you. Keep it as long as you like.”
Charlie is beaming as he stands up.
I stand up, too. The man steps forward. “How do you do? I’m Charlie’s brother, Jamie,” he says.
I start to answer with my own name, but Charlie fills the tiny space of silence. “This one’s Maggie. Evelyn and Willa are the other two. Sometimes people call Evelyn Evie.”
Jamie tips his head toward me. “A pleasure to meet you, Maggie.”
I want to say something in return, anything, but my tongue seems tied up in knots.
Charlie puts the book in the crook of his arm, closes the lid on my empty trunk, and starts to drag it to the door. “Thanks for letting me borrow the book, Maggie!”
“Let me help you with that.” Jamie bends to grab the other end of the trunk as Charlie hoists it over the threshold.
“Nah. I got it. It’s empty now. I got it. Here, you can carry Maggie’s book for me.”
Jamie takes the book and then steps away to let his brother do his job. It appears to be one thing Charlie can do, and he wants to do it.
