Read Online Going Where It's Dark by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor - Free Book Online

he’d still turned around and walked out? He’d already been rude once today.
    “Okay,” he murmured, and followed Jacob into the kitchen. But then, having said yes to the lemonade, he realized he could hardly say no to whatever jobs Jacob had lined up for him that afternoon, and he felt mad at himself all over again. He had been planning to finish the glass standing up, but when Jacob lowered himself to a chair and nodded toward the one across from him, Buck felt he had no choice. It was getting worse by the minute.
    Jacob’s voice was still deep and gravelly, but seemed to have lost some of its sharpness, and his bushy brows no longer met in the middle like a V. He picked up the plastic jug on the checkered oilcloth and filled two glasses. Pushing one toward Buck, he took a swallow of his own drink, his mouth puckering at the sourness. Then he asked, “How long have you been stuttering?”
    One thing you could say about Jacob Wall, he didn’t beat around the bush. What business was it of his? What was
with
this guy, anyway? It was all Buck could do not to say, or try to say, “What’s it to you?”
    What he said was “Why d…do you want t…t…to know?” He was surprised at his own boldness.
    “I used to work in a military hospital with speech patients,” Jacob said. “I figured your uncle found that out somehow and thought this whole thing up—you working here, and that annoyed me last week.”
    Buck lowered his glass. “You’re a d…doctor?”
    “Was. Not practicing anymore. A speech doctor, not an MD.”
    “We hardly know anyth…th…thing ab…b…b…”
Not here! Not now!
Buck thought, and started over. “Hardly know anything ab…b…bout you. J…just thought you n…n…needed some help.”
    For a long time, it seemed, Jacob sat without speaking, and Buck sensed that he too had to work not to be rude. Finally the man said, “Well, I was thinking the same about you. I worked with men who stuttered.”
    Try as he would, Buck could not picture this stern-looking man in this small cramped house as a professional in a white coat. Or maybe he hadn’t worn a coat. Buck still couldn’t imagine it.
    “Wh…wh…what d…did you d…do for them?” he asked, unconvinced.
    “It’s what they did for themselves. But it’s hard work, and I didn’t accept just anyone into the program.”
    “Yeah, well…” Buck drained his glass and pushed it away. “I’m g…going to start th…th…the…” He took a deep breath and tried again, blinking his eyes and tightening his jaw. “I’m going to st…st…start th…therapy at school. Th…thanks.” He was stuttering on practically every word!
    “How often do they see you in therapy at school, Buck? Every day?” Jacob just wouldn’t quit.
    Buck almost laughed. If you saw the therapist every
week,
that was exceptional. “C…couple times a m…m…month,” he said.
    “And you think that’s going to help?”
    “I d…don’t know,” said Buck. “B…but it’s all s…s…s…set up.”
    “Okay, then,” Jacob said. “Just thought I’d offer.”
    Buck stood up. “G…got any jobs for m…me today?”
    •••
    When Buck got home from school on Wednesday, Mel was there, showered and rummaging stocking footed through the refrigerator.
    “Heeeey!” he said when Buck and Katie walked in. “What do you guys eat when I’m gone? Nothing much here but peas and carrots. You a bunch of bunnies or something?”
    Katie laughed. “There’s nothing in there you like, you mean. We didn’t know you’d be home.” She gave her uncle a quick hug. “Amy and Sara are coming over and we’re making popcorn, if you want any.”
    “Take more’n popcorn to fill me up,” Mel said, and sat down on a kitchen chair to put on his shoes while Katie took her stuff to her room. Soon music by her favorite band drifted down from upstairs.
    Buck had just grabbed a couple of crackers when Mel gave him a mischievous look—first the squint in his brown eyes,