Ginny stared out the window as they drove the short distance to the church. Lisa made no attempt to talk to her unless she did something she didn’t like.
Pulling into the parking, Lisa stopped the car. Instead of getting out like Ginny expected, her foster mother rolled the window down before using the mirror to reapply her lipstick.
“Do you need to come inside with me?”
“No. Pastor Dean will call me when you’re done. Wait inside the church doors until you see my car.”
Nodding, she walked toward the church.
The building was silent when she entered. The large cross on the wall behind the pulpit facing her was the first thing she saw. The empty pews were arranged row after row with a center aisle in the middle. The peaceful atmosphere loosened the tight knot in her chest that she’d been unaware of. The memories of sitting in the third pew from the pulpit brought back memories of sitting there every Sunday with Papa Will.
Tears built in her eyes. She hadn’t talked to him after he had taken her from her brothers.
Making a left, she headed toward Pastor Dean’s office. The door was open. Drawing closer, she saw the pastor sitting behind his desk.
Seeing her at the door, the pastor gave her a welcoming smile. “Come in, Ginny. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Pastor,” Ginny greeted him back.
“Don’t look so apprehensive. I don’t bite.”
Ginny forced a smile to her lips, dreading him finding out how stupid she was.
The pastor was younger than the one before him. Plus, he was much nicer. Even her dad had said that Pastor Dean made him want to go to church again. He hadn’t, though he had stayed outside during services, saying each time he would give a try the following week. That Sunday had never come, and it never would.
“Set your books down on my desk and pull up a chair. We’ll get started.”
Doing as he asked, Ginny placed her books on the desk. Dragging the chair from the front of the desk and to the side beside him, she then sat down.
Pastor Dean looked at the books she brought with a raised brow. “You have homework in all the subjects?”
Flushing, she started fidgeting in the chair. It wasn’t going to take him long to find out how stupid she was. “Yes, Pastor.”
“Which one is giving you the most trouble?”
Ginny reached for her math book, moving it to the top of the stack.
“Math is my best subject. What chapter?”
Ginny opened the book to the chapter she had been attempting to work on.
“You’re only on chapter three?”
Turning red, she stared fixedly down at the page, praying she had miraculously learned how to work the problems on the drive to church. She hadn’t, and now both God and the pastor knew how stupid she was.
“I’m behind.”
“Then let’s catch you up.” Encouragingly, he asked which problem she was working on.
Taking a handout from her homework folder, she handed it to him. Expecting the pastor to immediately begin telling her how to work the problem, Ginny took a pencil out of her bag. When he set the paper down on his desk and just stared at it with a frown, Ginny wondered if he was having as much trouble with it as she.
“Do you have any of your math papers with you?”
She opened her notebook to the section that she used for math, and the pastor pulled out the papers that had been graded. He gave a quick glance when he saw the red mark at the top of each of them before returning to the checked papers. It was several minutes before he raised his head again.
“I know I’m stupid,” she said miserably, cutting him off before he could tell her what she had already been told.
His frown grew deeper. “Who told you that you’re stupid?”
At the sight at his building anger, Ginny hastily retreated into her shell where no one could pry information out of her if she didn’t want to tell.
“No one. I don’t need anyone tell me what I already know,” she said mutinously.
His expression turned kind. “You’re not stupid, Ginny; you’re dyslexic.”
“What’s that?”
“It means that numbers and letters look different to you than they do to me.”
“Does that mean I need glasses?”
“No, glasses correct vision. It can’t help the way your brain is seeing the information. Once you’re taught a different way to look at letters and numbers, you should be able to catch up. Your teacher should have caught this when she graded your papers and helped you instead of using that red pencil so much. She didn’t even bother to show you how to work the problems you got wrong. Do you have a clean piece of paper I can use?”
Ginny ripped a piece of paper out of her notebook and gave it to him. As she did, the pastor flipped through the rest of her notebook, turning to her reading section.