Page 29 of Scot on the Run
She saw his shoulders rise and fall and heard his deep sigh. “I suppose I must. It’s no’ a big secret, really.”
She stayed quiet. His Scottish accent had thickened, indicating a change in his mood, though she wasn’t sure why.
“I had trouble with school,” he said simply. “My aptitude for numbers and reasoning developed early. Many of my teachers quite honestly didn’t know what to do with me. Most of them did their best. They let me muddle along on my own…gave me advanced textbooks, that sort of thing.”
“I’m guessing it’s not every day a genius comes along.”
“Not a genius,” he protested. “But different than most.”
“Okay, not a genius. Call it what you will, I’d say you ended up at one point knowing more than the instructor.”
“Aye. When I was fourteen. The man thought I was smarting off to him, but honest to God, all I wanted to do was learn. One day before school he wrote out an involved equation on the board. Most of my classmates were outside, lingering to the very last instant because they hated the classes and the homework. Me, I loved it. I always went in early to get my notes in order and to be ready for the lecture. I sat down at my desk as usual, but that’s when things went south.”
“Tell me,” she said, her heart in her throat. The image of Ian as a vulnerable young lad haunted her.
“I sat there reading the figures he had written, and I saw a mistake.”
“Oh, Ian.”
“It was plain as day. I didn’t want him to be embarrassed when the other lads came in, so I jumped up, erased a few letters and numbers, and corrected the math. Mr. Bingham showed up as I was doing it. He was apoplectic… started screaming and calling me names. The others came running, of course. I was stupid and naïve when it came to the nuances of male pride. I had diminished him in his own classroom, and he made me pay.”
“What did he do to you?”
Ian’s rough laugh held little humor. “I may have forgotten to mention that I stuttered. School was often hell for me when I was forced to give an oral report or simply to answer a question verbally. You know how children can be. Not only were my abilities an affront to them, but my speech impediment gave them plenty of fodder to torment me.”
Bella winced. She knew she didn’t want to hear what came next, but since she had asked the question, it was too late. “Go on,” she said. “Tell me.”