For Pete’s Sake

He looked at the card again. There was a drawing of a pretty girl swept from the path of a speeding car by a handsome young man. Beneath the drawing were words.
Peter looked at her. I can’t read, Christie. Didn’t they tell you? I’m just a dummy. The smile that had played with his lips suddenly disappeared and sadness came into his eyes.
Christie pointed to the card. “You’re my Gallant Knight,” she read. “Get it? Don’t you think it’s just perfect?”
Peter nodded and shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, do you want to or not?” She pointed at the words printed inside.
“He can’t read, Miss.”
Christie was startled at the unexpected voice behind her. George Greeley was standing behind the massive counter that ran along the right side of the store. His bushy white eyebrows were thick above steely, gray eyes, his gray hair mussed. He chewed on the ever-present stump of a cigar.
George came around the counter and moved toward them.
“He ain’t been to school a day in his life,” he said. “His pa was embarrassed by his condition, thought people would look down on them for having a dumb child so he kept him isolated on their farm. Many a time I tried to talk some sense into him and Bessie, but he wouldn’t have none of it.”
“You mean just because he can’t talk they didn’t let him go to school? That’s . . . that’s . . . just terrible.” She couldn’t think of anything more to say.
George nodded. “The two of them thought he was retarded, but he ain’t . . . not by a long shot. Peter is smart. He always knows what goes where and he can find anything people ask for. Just look at this place.” He waved an arm. “This is Peter’s doing. You can’t tell me a dumb person could organize like this.”
You’re going to scare her off, Uncle George.
“When he came to live with you, why didn’t you send him to school?”
Her question seemed to take George by surprise. He paused for a moment, his eyes wandering about the store. “I suppose I’ve asked myself that question more than once. The truth is, I don’t know.”
“Well, I think it’s just awful.” She took the card from Peter, opened it, and read what she had written inside. “Thank you, Peter. Would you like to have an ice-cream with me at the park?”
Peter nodded affirmative, a big grim blossoming on his lips. He looked at his uncle.
George looked at the two of them. He took the stump of the cigar out of his mouth and said, “What are you waiting for, Pete? You can’t turn down an invitation from the prettiest girl in Walnut Ridge, now, can you?” He laughed.
Peter took off his dirty apron and handed it to George.
“I guess that means a yes.”
Laughing, Christie grabbed his hand and pulled him through the store.
Watching them go, George grinned. “Those two look good together. Maybe she’s just what Peter’s been needin’.”