Brute: The Valves MC (17 page)

“Unacceptable!” I exclaimed, pacing the floor in the bathroom. “I can’t let it happen.” The whole scenario with Annie revolted me. How could a school drop a child like that at the whim of an overbearing woman who happened to make large donations? It left me so shaken I’d sought refuge somewhere I could be alone and calm my nerves. I’d splashed cold water on my face and taken several deep breaths, but it wasn’t enough. I needed a plan.

My hands still shook, and I felt weak on my feet, anger toying with me. I sat down on a toilet to recover. Anything unfair or dishonest and driven by ulterior motives riled me up, making my insides simmer and my mind race, seeking justice. But what could I do? If I wanted to bring the issue up again, I had challenge the principal, and I needed something up my sleeve, a wild card.

I thought back through everything, but all I could come up with was to threaten resignation. But the thought sent shivers down my spine. What if Mr. Deck called my bluff? He was resourceful, knew how to play politics. If I lost my job, what would I do about Ginger? I was going to be her foster parent, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if my decision affected her negatively in any way.

I had to reconsider.

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts, and I pulled it from my purse. Dawson. I sighed. Par for the course today, one thing on top of another. “Hello?” I answered.

“Hi, Mari. Is this a bad time?” His voice warmed me, and I choked back tears.

“No, it’s fine.” I clipped my words and cleared my throat.

He paused, like he was putting thoughts into words, and I hoped he hadn’t noticed the tremble in my voice. “Are you all right?”

Damn. He knew. I fought the tears, swallowing hard and exhaling slowly before I answered. “I’m fine. It’s just a difficult workday.”

“I heard.” Great. “I called Ginger, and she told me about the incident. What happened?”

His habit of checking on me usually comforted me when I was blue, but now, it was too much. I couldn’t handle his attempt at being there for me, caring, not with what I had to do. I didn’t deserve it, and I wasn’t going to change my mind. I changed my posture as I stood, and I strengthened my voice, fighting to urge to pace. “Not well. Why did you call?”

“I told Ginger I would pick her up today. I wanted to check with you.” His voice changed, too, carrying injury at knowing I chose to put distance between us.

“Yes, it’s fine. I have to fix things here anyway. I wanted to call you about her.” That was a lie. Truthfully, I’d forgotten about taking her home, and the realization made me doubt my fitness as a guardian. What did I know about responsibilities of raising a child? Was I making a mistake taking her from her father?

“You did?” he asked, his tone warmer.

“Yes. About Ginger.” I felt a stab at cutting him off, but I wouldn’t make either of us suffer more than necessary.

“Of course,” he backed off. I knew I couldn’t hold back my emotions anymore. “I’ll take Ginger, then. See you later, baby.”

Baby.
It echoed in my head as tears rolled down my cheeks. I nodded, though he couldn’t see. “See you later,” I whispered, choking on pain. Afraid of how much agony I caused Dawson, I hadn’t looked after myself, and only now did I feel the rawness quivering inside as the tone told me he’d hung up. I held the phone to my ear, wondering why so much injustice weighed down on good people.

Then it hit me. Principal Deck was known for dirty tactics and methods used to get his way, and I’d witnessed those unsavory practices time and again. I just had to use his own methods against him, playing dirty to get justice. I checked my watch and decided I’d had enough time alone. I gathered my purse and phone and walked back to the classroom. I spent the afternoon half focused on finding weapons against Deck, and by the last bell, I had an arsenal.

I meant to present him with a considerable list of his past sins, explaining that I was not above pulling the skeletons out of his closet if I had to. I simply wanted fair treatment.

Ginger came to me and said her father was waiting outside. “I know, baby,” I said, a knot forming in my stomach. Dawson, here. I struggled to breathe, my mouth dry.

“Will you walk me out, Miss Bennett?” she asked.

“Sure, baby,” came the automatic response. My hands shook, and I stood to gather some papers from my desk before I reached for Ginger’s hand. She smiled as she led me out. At the gate, my feet stopped working as my eyes locked on Dawson’s. He held my gaze until Ginger ran across the street into his arms. He picked her up, exchanged a few words, and nodded to me as Ginger waved. It was long after they left that my feet moved again, and I walked slowly back in the building. It was time to find Mr. Deck.

He wasn’t in his office, and the school nurse – his minion – informed me he’d already left. Something about official school business. I could tell by her smirk she enjoyed my earlier defeat. I didn’t bother to tell her the fight was far from over. I just smiled coldly and left. I was done for the day.

I got in my car and drove home. I felt an unexpected surge of energy, thinking about my argument for tomorrow. I used the boost to complete some chores I kept putting off.

***

But Tuesday, I awoke unpleasantly tired, not having slept well. I felt like a child just before a school trip or the beginning of a new year. That excitement enveloped me, stealing a good night’s rest. I remained agitated and checked the time compulsively. I didn’t want to be late, but I couldn’t focus my scattered thoughts long enough to get ready. Eventually, I managed to make it out the door, decent. I wanted to take Ginger to school, so I went next door and knocked.

As I waited, I thought about managing the transition to motherhood, the responsibilities. Most of all, I worried about telling Ginger she would no longer live with Dawson. She would ask why. What would I say?

Things had been left hanging the night of the attack, and Dawson and I needed to talk. I dreaded the conversation, but I knew I had to set aside my fears and keep true to my word, for Ginger’s sake. But for the time being, I saw little harm in postponing until I’d dealt with Deck. Admittedly, I was afraid, and I was running away. To sooth my nerves, I told myself I needed the time to come to terms with this, what Dawson probably saw as an act of betrayal.

The door opened, and Dawson leaned on the frame, looking tired. All the signs pointed to him just waking up. I had waited longer than usual for him to answer the door, and I just realized that. “Is Ginger ready?” I asked suspiciously.

“What? I…”

“It’s late, Dawson,” I cut him off. “Is she still sleeping?”

I pushed past him, making a beeline for Ginger’s room. As I suspected, she was in bed, sound asleep. “Baby, wake up,” I said gently. She stirred and opened her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Dawson said behind me.

Ginger whimpered. “Can’t I sleep a little more, Mommy?”

“No, baby, it’s late. It’s time to get ready for school, okay?” I urged. I helped her up and guided her sleepy steps to the bathroom. I closed the door behind her and turned to reprimand Dawson.

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

“What were you thinking?” I whispered harshly.

“I had one glass too many, and I just slept in. I’m sorry.”

I frowned. “You never do that.” But I had an inkling why he was drinking.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, like he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“You’re damn right!” I hissed, instantly regretting it. I looked down, hoping the earth would open up and swallow me. I was right, it wouldn’t happen because he wouldn’t have his daughter. My face burned, and I gathered all my courage to look up at him, his tired features. His empty eyes and slumped shoulders. I felt guilty for inflicting something like this on him.

The bathroom door opened, and Ginger popped out, completely refreshed.

“Go change into school clothes, baby. I’ll wait for you by the door.”

She nodded and went to her closet. Needing space, I walked out, but I stopped in the hallway and whispered, “There’s still no excuse.” I didn’t look back. I knew I’d cry at the pain in his eyes.

Torn between guilt and his behavior, I paced the living room, wringing my hands nervously. Dawson offered me a cup of coffee, but I refused. Not for spite – I just couldn’t stomach anything with this much anxiety. Finally ready, Ginger gave me her hand, and we went to the door.

I paused. “We’ll be leaving now,” I said, turning slightly but not looking at Dawson. It sounded like a promise of the future. For him, an empty one.

“Have a nice day, baby.” He addressed it to Ginger, but I knew it was intended for both of us. One last attempt at showing he wanted to douse the bridges before they burned down. Tears stung my eyes as I walked out, waiting for Ginger to hug her father. He brought her to the car and settled her in the backseat and then waited on my lawn until I turned at the intersection. A heavy silence fell over Ginger and me.

“Would you like to live with me, Ginger?” I finally asked her, unable to fight the urge. I had searched for the right words and come to the conclusion there were none.

“Are you and Daddy finally moving in together, Mari?” she asked excitedly.

I glance at her in the rearview mirror with another stab of guilt. How did I explain this? I sighed and checked the time, the imminent danger of being terribly late making me gasp. I drove faster, welcoming the distraction, and got us there only five minutes late.

Breathing heavily from running across the schoolyard, I came to terms with having to postpone my meeting with Deck again. I caught a glance from the nurse, and I told her to notify Mr. Deck that I wanted a word with him at recess. She looked offended at my assumption of how close they were, but I didn’t stop to apologize. We both knew it was all an act.

In class, I went on with my day, taking advantage of every spare moment to review my strategy. At recess, I watched my students spread around the yard. When I was content, I squared my shoulders and marched to Deck’s office. I took several deep breaths and knocked on his door.

“Come in, Miss Bennett,” he said, motioning me in, just a hint of displeasure in his voice. I stepped in and closed the door. “I didn’t know you wanted to speak to me. What’s on your mind?”

I smiled politely. His words indicated clearly he knew I was coming. Though I didn’t know why, his attitude fortified me where my confidence lacked. I sat down, uninvited, and looked into his eyes. “I’m here because something has to be done.” I didn’t typically beat around the bush, but I needed to collect my thoughts. I continued, “Something that causes me, and probably many others, great dissatisfaction. I’m here to voice those concerns and offer a solution. And an ultimatum.” I never broke eye contact.

My last words raised his brows to his hairline. “Oh? Concerns and suggestions are always welcome, Miss Bennett. Of course. But ultimatums? I’m not sure there’s room for that in our institution.” He sounded sure of himself, even smug, but I could make his world crumble with a few words. I wouldn’t budge under his calculating stare.

“I’m afraid you leave me no choice, Mr. Deck. This is a school, a place to prepare the next generation, and we have a responsibility to lead them by example.” He nodded, thoughtful, and I continued, enjoying how he struggled to anticipate my move. “By the same argument, I could say expelling a student solely based on the wishes of a single sponsor with no regard for what we as teachers are obliged to offer said student does not set a good example. And this institution isn’t the place to play power games. Surely you agree.”

His eyes widened, but then he relaxed. “Is this what it’s all about, Miss Bennett?” He smiled, probably prepared to deal with situations like this.

I nodded. “Let me expound on that. This institution is not the place to conduct many unsavory practices. Like political games and personal agendas. I’m sure you understand where I’m heading.” I saw the tension return, his shoulders straight, his fingers dancing nervously on the armrests.