A Child's Wish

by Tara Taylor Quinn

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE HOUSE WAS CLEAN enough by the time Delilah White’s morning show ended.

  “I did all the dusting, Daddy,” Kelsey said, coming up behind him in her bathroom. Brush in hand, he turned from the toilet bowl to see a reasonably dirty rag in her hand. She’d gotten some dust from somewhere.

  “Great, sweetheart,” he said, flushing the blue out of the toilet bowl. “As soon as I wash my hands and change my shirt, we can head for the grocery store.”

  “They weren’t very nice to Ms. Foster, were they?” Kelsey asked, her dark hair hanging down around her shoulders—the way he liked it best. She was frowning as she followed him into his room.

  “No, they weren’t.” The bed wasn’t made. He’d intended to wash the sheets, but that could wait for another day. Pulling off his T-shirt, he grabbed a pale-green polo shirt and dropped it over his head.

  “Do you think they hurt her feelings?” Kelsey was right behind him as he stopped in the kitchen for the grocery list held by a magnet on the refrigerator door.

  “I hope not.” His sneaker made a small catching sound as he stepped away from the fridge. Kelsey had spilled cranberry juice there earlier in the week. He hadn’t scrubbed the floor this morning, either.

  “But do you think they did?” his daughter persisted.

  He stopped, gazed at the girl who, in her butterfly jeans and short-sleeved pink T-shirt, looked like a mini-version of the teacher she’d talked about nonstop the year before—the friend she’d avoided since Meredith’s run-in with Larry Barnett had caused her distress at school.

  “Yes, Kelse, I think they did.”

  “Then we should go see her, Daddy.”

  His small companion with the big heart was back. Thank God.

  “She’s not going to want to see us right now, honey.”

  “She’ll want to see me,” Kelsey said, all nine-year-old innocence and confidence. “I know she will. And you’ll just have to be nice to her for once.”

  She grinned at him and he fell in love with her all over again. “We’ll see.”

  MARK STILL FELT more trepidation than assurance as they drove down Meredith’s street several hours later, groceries purchased, taken home and put away.

  “Promise you won’t yell at her,” Kelsey said, her leg bobbing on the seat as she stared out the window toward Meredith Foster’s house.

  “Jeez, Kelse, you make me sound like an ogre. I don’t yell.”

  “Just be nice, okay? She’s had a hard day.” Kelsey’s expression was earnest.

  “I’m a nice guy, sweetheart.”

  “Daddy!” There was exasperation mixed with warning in the word.

  “I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mark grinned at his offspring, wondering how he’d managed to raise such an opinionated imp.

  DRESSED IN A LONG DENIM SKIRT, white blouse and sparkling beads, her long golden-red hair loose down her back, Meredith looked ready to meet the world when she opened her door. She wasn’t home, depressed, needing visitors. Mark felt like an idiot standing on her front porch, a dripping banana-pie ice-cream treat in one hand.

  “Hi, my dad isn’t mad at you,” Kelsey said before he could excuse their intrusion and hightail it out of there.

  “Kelsey!” Meredith’s pleasure sounded genuine. “Come on in!”

  So much for a rapid departure. They were inside. With a perfectly fine woman who did not appear to need any cheering up at all.

  “We brought you a treat,” Kelsey said. “Didn’t we, Daddy?”

  “Uh, yes,” he finally spoke, handing her the bag, but avoiding her eyes.

  “We got some for us, too,” Kelsey said, leading the way to the kitchen where she took a seat at Meredith’s round table. His daughter had spent the night there once and acted like she owned the place. Mental note: Teach Kelsey some more manners.

  “Banana pie!” Meredith said. “And cookie dough for you.” She put a lidded and sweating cup in front of Kelsey.

  “Daddy got banana pie, too.” Kelsey told her, dripping ice cream on the place mat as she removed her lid.

  “I see that.” Meredith put his cup in front of one of the remaining chairs. Glanced up. And looked him straight in the eye. Her gaze was full of questions he couldn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what they were.

  “The people on the radio were jerks,” Kelsey said, around a mouthful of ice cream. “Daddy even said so. Didn’t you, Daddy?”

  Meredith was still watching him. “Yep.”

  His employee’s shoulders relaxed visibly.

  And, ironically, so did Mark’s.

  “YOU WANT TO GO to Osage Hills with us?” Kelsey asked as she licked the last of her ice cream off the plastic spoon. “We’re going on the trail to the waterfall, and then Daddy and I are going to play Frisbee.”

  Hiking. Playing. It sounded wonderful.

  “I’m sure Meredith has plenty to do this afternoon, Kelse.” Mark intervened before Meredith could reply. “She’s obviously ready to go out. We’re probably holding her up.”

  Kelsey looked at her. “Are we?”

  “No.” Meredith smiled. Kelsey was trying too hard; she wasn’t as happy as she’d have them believe, but Meredith was soaking up the genuine warmth that emanated from the little girl. She’d missed her. A lot. “But I’m sure your father has other plans for the afternoon, honey.”

  She couldn’t look at Mark again. There was danger there. Something she didn’t understand.

  And there was guilt. She’d kissed him, after her friend had trusted them alone together. No matter that Susan had subsequently broken up with him. Susan might have made a mistake. She loved him.

  “Nope,” Kelsey was saying, her feet swinging under the table, knocking against the chair leg. “Today’s my choice.”

  Oh. “Well, I’m sure you don’t want me barging in on your twosome.”

  “Yes, we do,” Kelsey said. “Don’t we, Daddy?”

  If she hadn’t been so uncomfortable herself, Meredith would have laughed at the strained expression on Mark’s face. “Yes,” was all he said.

  And because Meredith had been climbing the walls there by herself, because she adored Kelsey and couldn’t bear to have the little girl disappointed in her again so soon, because Susan was at the hospital seeing patients, Meredith accepted their invitation.

  THEY HIKED. They laughed. They played three-way Frisbee. And somehow they ended up back at Meredith’s house with takeout Chinese food for dinner, followed by Kelsey’s favorite movie, The Reluctant Astronaut. The little girl seemed happy, contented. But anytime Meredith focused on Kelsey, her stomach grew tight and uneasy. Just like it had that Friday night of the spring dance, when she thought she’d eaten something bad.

  Maybe it was ice cream followed by Chinese food.

  At nine-thirty, halfway through Meredith’s favorite, The Truman Show, which Mark had never seen before, Kelsey fell asleep.

  “I should go,” Mark said when Meredith noticed the child’s head hanging awkwardly off the side of the armchair and paused the movie.

  She should let him. But after Kelsey’s brief mention of it, they’d done a marvelous job of avoiding all mention of the radio show that morning and Meredith needed to know what he thought—where she stood—without having his daughter intervene on her behalf. “You could put her on the bed in my guest room,” she said. “Just until we finish the movie.”

  He glanced at her. Looked like he was going to refuse. And then nodded.

  Meredith led him down the hall, past her room to one across the hall, and helped him settle his daughter under the covers.

  Someday she wanted a life like that.

  “GOOD AFTERNOON. Good evening. And good night.” Meredith felt like cheering when Jim Carrey delivered his last line and walked through the movie set that had been the boundary of his life since the day he was born.

  Mark was watching the credits roll.

  “What did you think?”

  He glanc
ed at her, sat forward and reached for the remote control. “It was good.”

  “That’s all? Good?” The movie had hit a chord so deep within her, the first time she’d seen it at a theater, that she’d gone back twice more that same weekend.

  The television went dark. Leaving them only with the soft light from a lamp on the table by the window. “It’s a bit discomfiting to realize that one can be so completely manipulated,” he said now. “They kept him trapped in that set for decades and he never even knew it wasn’t real.”

  “You’re deeper than you want to believe, Shepherd,” she said, telling herself that the extent of her pleasure was ridiculous.

  “I’m just me,” he said. “And right now, that’s ready for bed.”

  His words, innocently intended, she was sure, hung between them. Only because it was late. And the lighting was soft. And she’d had a hard day.

  She sat forward in the chair she’d been lounging in all evening. “Before you go, can you tell me what you really thought about the radio show this morning?”

  “He was prepared, thorough.”

  “And?”

  “I think he made headway.”

  She’d known that. But to hear him say it brought a stab of fear to her chest.

  “How much headway?”

  Mark glanced at her, his eyes glistening in the dim light. “You don’t want to get into this tonight, do you?” he asked softly. “Today was supposed to be about forgetting.”

  “And the problem with that—” she tried for a chuckle and failed “—is that you always get your memory back and it’s like finding things out all over again. You come down with a thud.”

  “Monday morning is soon enough. Give yourself the weekend, at least.”

  “Mark, if you know anything, please tell me. The rest of the weekend will be little more than a torture chamber of waiting and wondering and worrying. I’d much rather just know what I’m dealing with.”

  He sighed, rubbed his hands together and then sat back, facing her. “I had a call from the superintendent today. He intends to recommend you be dismissed.”

  Her stomach dropped, but she tried to rally.

  “On what grounds?”

  He leaned closer, his expression compassionate. “It doesn’t matter tonight, Meredith. Get some sleep and we’ll talk about this on Monday.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Mental abuse of a child, for one.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t breathe. The room was warm and yet her skin felt frozen. “My entire life is about helping children.”

  “I know. I told you we should do this later.”

  She stared at him. “How is later going to make this any different?” she asked him, her throat raw. “I’d never, ever abuse a child. That’s ludicrous. I spoke with Tommy’s mother. Period. I never went near him, never talked to him about any of this. If he’s suffering, it’s because of what his parents did with the information I gave them.”

  “I know,” he said again, and she couldn’t tell if he was attempting to placate her or not.

  “Don’t humor me, Mark.” She heard the edge in her voice and was relieved to know she had some fight left. She felt completely lethargic, beaten, and she wasn’t sure she’d have the energy she required if she tried to stand.

  “I’m not.” His tone, the straightforward look in his eye, convinced her. “And I don’t think that charge will stick,” he added. “But the second one might.”

  “And it is?”

  “Moral turpitude.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes and Meredith blinked them away. “What base act did I commit?”

  “Making false statements.”

  “They were true.”

  “According to Larry Barnett, they’re false.”

  “I said that I felt his son was being abused. How can he, or anyone else, stand in judgment about what I feel?”

  “You told his wife that Tommy was suffering from emotional abuse,” Mark said. “You have no proof that that statement is true.”

  She had said that. Because she knew it was true.

  “The superintendent’s in a tough place, Meredith,” Mark said, and she tried to listen to him, although she didn’t give a damn about the man’s predicament at the moment. “He’s under a lot of pressure to make a decision here and all he has to base that decision on are the facts he has before him. He thinks the facts show you making false statements.”

  “That means that if enough members of the school board agree with him, I’ll be getting a letter to that effect.” She’d read the statutes when she’d been hired as a teacher. And again that afternoon.

  “You’ll have no less than twenty days before a hearing is called, at which time you’ll be free to present your reasons for nondismissal.”

  “And then the board votes.”

  He nodded.

  She’d wanted to know. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.

  “It’s completely out of your hands.” Not that it mattered. He’d agreed with Barnett from the beginning.

  “Not entirely.” Mark’s speech was slow, drawn out. “I’ll put together a folder similar to the one I handed out at the parents’ meeting, with the more sensitive material included as well, and I’ll see that it gets to every member of the board.”

  “What kind of more sensitive material?”

  “Amber McDonald,” he said. “Amber Walker now.”

  She’d just had a letter from the little girl’s mother a couple of weeks before. Amber had gone to a slumber party—had had a great time—and had called her step-father to come get her the next day. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to be alone with him—with any man—since her abuse and she’d acted as though it happened every day. Her mother was very hopeful.

  Meredith was, too.

  “Obviously we can’t speak about her publicly,” Mark was saying. “But we can include the information in a confidential packet.”

  “What do you think about that episode?” Meredith asked, too tired to figure it out on her own. Tired physically. And tired of feeling ostracized. She could keep her feelings to herself. They didn’t mark her in any way. Didn’t show. No one would know they were there and she could be normal, just like everyone else.

  In another town. And if she was fired for moral turpitude, in another career.

  “I think you saved a little girl’s life.”

  “So why is this time any different?”

  “You didn’t get lucky.”

  He thought the previous time had involved luck. As if she’d just guessed that little Amber was being molested. As if she played some kind of Russian roulette with children’s lives. Meredith wasn’t surprised by his words, but she was shocked by how much they hurt her.

  She stood. “You’d better go.”

  Reaching for her wrist, Mark pulled her down beside him on the couch. “Meredith, listen, I’m on your side.”

  She couldn’t look at him. “How can you say that? You don’t believe I know what I’m talking about.”

  “I believe you think you do,” he said, the softness of his words compelling her to listen. “And if a wrong is unintentional, it’s not moral turpitude.”

  Peering at him, Meredith tried to focus, to allow the bit of relief teasing her heart to flower into something powerful enough to heal the panic.

  “They don’t have to prove that I intended to hurt Tommy, only that I intended to speak a false statement in an effort to help him.”

  “All you have to do is convince the school board that you believe what you say you do.”

  “How do I do that?”

  He shrugged, gave her a soft grin. “I have no idea how you do it, but I know it’s true,” he told her. “You’ve certainly convinced me that you believe in yourself.”

  Well, that was something. Especially since she wasn’t sure anymore that she even knew who she was, knew where she stopped and other people started.

  His hands were on his thigh
s. Strong hands. Capable. Gentle. And she was in them. He didn’t believe in her gift. But he believed that she did.

  He seemed to think that might be enough.

  “HERE’S YOUR BAG.” Kelsey shoved the brown paper package at Kenny, hardly looking at him. She’d run as fast as she could across the playground, checking behind her the whole time. She looked behind her again, scared to death that someone would be there, seeing her do this.

  “Thanks,” Kenny said. “How you been?”

  “Fine.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, ’bye.” She bent to push her way back through the bushes and climb over the fence.

  “Hey, wait.” Kenny stepped forward. She could see the ratty bottoms of his jeans just above his black tennis shoes.

  “What?” She’d worn her butterfly jeans again today, just because she was seeing him, even though they were a day dirty. They were her best jeans and she’d wanted him to notice her. Now she just felt stupid. It wasn’t fun seeing Kenny, when she knew she could go to jail.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, there is. You mad at me?”

  She kicked a clod of dirt on the ground with her toe. “No.”

  “Then what?”

  He sounded like he might start to cry if he were a girl. Kelsey turned her head to check and she was right. His face was sad and not at all laughing at her like it usually was.

  She hated when people were sad. Especially if it was her fault. “I’m sorry, Kenny.”

  He didn’t say it was okay. He just stared at her a minute. And then said, “What’s wrong?”

  She’d promised not to tell. But maybe Kenny didn’t count, since he was part of it.

  “Do you know how much trouble we could get in?”

  He shrugged. “Not if we don’t get caught.”

  He wasn’t too worried and Kelsey figured he didn’t know about the jail part.

  “But Kenny, what if we do?”

  “How can we? We’re just kids.”

  Should she say it? Could she let him get in that much trouble without telling him? “They have kid jail.”

  His eyes got narrow like he was thinking, but he was looking at her.