More Than This: Contemporary Christian Romance Novel (30 page)

Something in Liz told her that she was going to have to take the lead on this, so summoning her courage, she stepped into the role she never anticipated preparing to fill.

“Liz,” Mrs. McLaughlin said, coming over to greet them from a table across the room. She held out her hand first to Liz who shook it.

“Good morning.” Then Liz stepped back and put her hand on the scratchy black wool of his coat. “Mrs. McLaughlin, this is Jake McCoy.”

Mrs. McLaughlin smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Jake.”

His hand came out of his pocket, shook hers, and then retreated back into its covering.

“We can go into my office,” Mrs. McLaughlin said, and with no other options, Liz nodded and glanced up at him.

She’d never seen him look so white. In fact, she wondered if he was even breathing anymore. Her short, soft smile helped nothing, and it was with grim determination only that they followed the woman into her office.

Once inside, Jake’s alert system verily blared at him to get away. It didn’t matter how— the window, the door, the wall, even the air vents— any method of escape would do. He sat in the chair that felt like it was made of knives. He’d been here before, on the other side of that desk that looked like it had been built specifically to intimidate him. It was the point of desks like that, like they had in every principal and guidance counselor’s office he had ever been in— to make him feel small, scared, and stupid. The air started tasting stale, and he wondered how he would ever make it through this without humiliating himself completely.

“First of all, Jake, I want to say how much I admire your courage in coming,” Mrs. McLaughlin started. “I know this cannot be easy for you.”

That surprised him. Courage? He felt like the weakest person on the planet. Carefully, he pulled forward with his elbow on the arm of the chair and licked his lips, wishing he’d found a way out of this. “I... I don’t... I’m not sure...”

“I know,” she said, and there was a note in her voice he’d never heard before. It wasn’t condescending or harsh, nor was it patronizing. It was... safe. “But now you’ve taken the hard step. The others from here should get much easier.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. The world was tilting and spinning in strange arcs around him. He felt Liz’s glance, but he had no way to find words in the jumble of feelings twining across his heart.

“I’m sure you want to hear more about the program,” Mrs. McLaughlin said.

Liz nodded for him because he couldn’t get any part of himself to move.

“Well, as you know, here at the Literacy Center we mostly work with adults who have reading issues, but there are others in other parts of the university that have been working on many of the same issues, and what we are learning is that there are common denominators in people who experience these difficulties. We’re beginning to understand that things we thought were multiple issues may stem from common problems. For example, one child may have trouble with letters, another with numbers, one with writing, another with reading, but the problem may be deeper— something that presents as these symptoms but only as an effect, not a cause. It may be a neurological path that was either damaged or never fully developed. That’s one avenue we’re researching. Another is that many of the brain scans point to a problem with the vision system.” She looked at Jake. “Do you get headaches a lot when you read?”

It was like he’d suddenly been thrust onto the witness stand, and he squirmed under the scrutiny. “Um, well, I don’t really read... a lot.”

“Okay. Well, can you think back to your school days then? Did you get headaches a lot back then?”

Strange, he’d tried so hard to forget all of that. It was almost like looking at someone else’s life when he thought about it. “Yeah. I did. Mom kept me home a lot. I stayed with Mrs. Jaramillo. She gave me orange popsicles.” He smiled at that, remembering how he had sometimes said he had a headache just to get the popsicles.

“When you read, could you focus on reading or were you easily distracted?”

All the old feelings ambushed him before he realized they were there, and he shifted to get away from them. “I was always the last one to finish, and by the time I did, everyone else was talking or walking around. It was always really hard to concentrate.” He felt Liz’s gaze but fought not to look at her.

Mrs. McLaughlin nodded. “Liz tells me you’re a writer now.”

He shrugged, thinking that air vent was looking better and better. It sure had gotten hot in here. Just how he would have accomplished it, he wasn’t really sure, but he would’ve given anything to take his coat off or run outside for air. “I try, but I’m not very good at it.”

“That’s not true,” Liz said like he’d just shot her. “He writes these amazing stories.”

“Yeah, but I can’t spell to save my life.”

“That doesn’t mean the stories aren’t good.”

Mrs. McLaughlin jumped in. “So when you write, do you get headaches?”

Jake puzzled over that. He did sometimes, but it wasn’t like before. “No. Not really.”

“But you’re not really reading it either,” Liz said, and his gaze jerked over to her. “I’ve watched you. I mean you look at the screen, but you’re not really
looking at it.
It’s more like it happens to be in front of you.”

“Well, that’s true, I guess. I tend to zone out when I’m writing.” He shrugged. “It’s easier that way.”

“How so?” Mrs. McLaughlin asked.

“I don’t... I don’t really look at the words when I write. I more watch what’s going on in my head and just type.”

“So you’re not reading what you write?”

Slowly he let his head slide back and forth. “No. Not exactly.”

She nodded and thought for the longest moment of his life. Really, he thought she was about to tell him how stupid that sounded. In fact, it sounded stupid even to his own ears.

“How would you feel about taking a couple of the visual screening tests today?” Mrs. McLaughlin said one second before he decided none of this was worth the humiliation. “They came yesterday and set up the equipment. I can call Carla, and we can get started right now if you want.” She reached for the phone but did not pick it up. “She could be here in ten minutes.”

Jake’s breath snagged on the movement and refused to vacate his lungs. The world started that tilting thing again, and he wasn’t wholly sure he wouldn’t get pitched off this time.
No,
screamed through him.
I can’t. I don’t want to. Please!

“Jake?” Liz’s soft voice called to him from the fun house of his mind. He looked over at her and blinked, trying to find reality back. Gently she put her hand over on his arm. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

A moment and he let the breath go, knowing he must be completely insane. “Okay.”

They were the shortest ten minutes of his life because before he could think of a way to get out of it, he was sitting in a small room off to the side of the big one. Carla, a nice lady with a big smile and lots of energy, sat on the opposite side of a very small beige-colored desk.

“These tests are the first screenings we do at our Vision Center,” she said as she arranged the two books in front of her. “There is no pass or fail. They are just to let us see how your eyes are processing.” Then she stopped and looked at him. “You ready?”

Jake wanted to cry, but he beat that back. He forced himself to nod.

“Good. This first one just lets us know if you’re having tracking problems— if your eyes are working together or not.”

Liz sat outside the little room on the bench that was supposed to be soft but felt anything but. Laying her head back on the wall, she closed her eyes and lifted her heart up to God. It was all she could think to do. It was the fear in Jake’s eyes when he had gone in that most gripped her spirit. It held her, pinning her under the fear, telling her that all of her assurances were meaningless and could she please let him just go home? She wanted to tell him she was sorry for getting him into this. What if he was right? What if they went through all of this, and it fixed nothing? What then?

“God,” she whispered softly so the tears threatening in her eyes wouldn’t be jarred free, “please be with Jake. Please help us find some answers. Please.”

“Very good,” Carla said when he finished yet another line of numbers and he sat back, blinking.

She was being kind. That was horrible. He was beginning to remember all about that headache Mrs. McLaughlin had talked about. It was a pinching thing just above his left eye, and it hurt like someone was stabbing a dull knife into him.

“We have two more short tests,” Carla continued. “But if you’d like to take a break...”

“No.” Jake shook the headache away. “Let’s get it over with.”

The sooner they told him it was hopeless, the better.

It had been nearly an hour since they’d gone back, and when they came out, Liz noticed instantly how tired Jake looked. She jumped up from the little bench and went over to him. He was holding his coat, and something about that looked odd, but she batted that away. “How was it?”

“He did very well,” Carla said.

Liz looked up to Jake who looked away. Worry and confusion coursed through her. “So what’s next?”

“I’m going to take this back to Dr. Melody, and we’ll decide on the next step.”

“Dr. Melody?” Liz asked.

“Yes. She runs our Vision Center. She’s a fully certified optometrist. In fact, on our next session, she will be with me. It will be an extended version of this one.”

“You mean there’s more?” Jake asked, and Liz heard the panic.

“A little, but you did great.” Carla reached over and touched his arm. “I know it’s been rough, but believe me, you’re on a good road now.”

A moment and head still down, he nodded.

She smiled. “Okay. We’ll be in touch.”

With that, she turned back for the little hallway and disappeared. Liz looked up at him, and worry smacked her across the heart. “Was it really that bad?”

His eyes, tired and sad, drifted to hers. “Can we go now?”

She wished he looked more enthusiastic about all of it or at least less hopeless. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Oh, Liz,” Mrs. McLaughlin said, striding up. “I’m glad I caught you all. I just verified your appointment Monday morning with the hospital.”

Liz yanked in air and glanced up at Jake. What had she been thinking dragging him through all of this? This was a nightmare.

“Here’s the directions for the hospital.” Mrs. McLaughlin gave her the paper, which she seriously wanted to trash. “It’s on the fourth floor. Ask for Dr. Bjorn in Neurology. He’ll be in charge of the testing.” It was then that she apparently realized all was not happy in their worlds. “Um, is everything all right?”

How Liz wished she could say yes, but the truth was, she didn’t know anymore. “I... Um... It’s just... We’re...” There were other words, but she had no idea what they were. She looked at him, head still down, and her heart broke. “I guess we’re just wondering what’s coming next. I mean, where is all of this going?”

Mrs. McLaughlin nodded. “Do you have a few minutes? We could go into my office.”

Oh, what was the correct answer? Liz couldn’t tell from his face. “Sure.”

Jake felt like a hamster on a spinning wheel he couldn’t stop. It was like life was spiraling somewhere outside of him, and he was supposed to understand it all. But he just didn’t. Carla said he’d done all right, but he knew better. He’d watched her pen and her eyes, and he knew... By the time they were sitting in Mrs. McLaughlin’s office once again, he was so tired, he could have fallen asleep on the flattened gold carpeting. Sleep. It sounded better than it ever had.

This time instead of sitting at her desk, Mrs. McLaughlin led them to a small sitting area to the side. Liz sat on the little couch, and he followed her down. He wasn’t cold, but he wished he had the coat on just the same. He felt so exposed without it.

“I’m thinking maybe we should talk a little bit about all of this,” Mrs. McLaughlin started, and Liz nodded next to him. Then her hand drifted across the space between them and latched onto the one of his that was clutching the coat on his knee. He didn’t even grab hold. It would’ve taken far too much energy.

“The test today was the first of many that you’ll be given while we evaluate where the issues are and what to do about them,” Mrs. McLaughlin began, and Liz squeezed his fingers. That, too felt somewhere outside of his ability to comprehend. “We’re trying to find the best ways to test so that when we do this with children, they don’t have to maybe do all of the testing that you’re going through. Maybe we can narrow it down to the tests that will pinpoint what we’re dealing with the quickest with the kids. But what that means for you is that you will have to take all of the tests.”

“How many are there?” he asked softly.

She let out a slow breath. “Well, you know about the neurology tests on Monday. There are two of those— an MRI and a brain scan. Those will tell us what parts of the brain are firing as they should be and which are not.”

It was hard not to squirm, but he fought it as best as he could.