Brute: The Valves MC

by Faye, Carmen

  I nodded. Something started to take shape in my mind, and I didn’t like the prospect. “What about Ginger?” I asked quietly, focusing on the blue mug in front of me.

  “What about her?”

  “I don’t mean to be offensive, but if they’re so aggressive for no reason at all, I can’t bear to imagine what they’d do if they found out your intentions. And Ginger…” I trailed off.

  “Don’t go there, baby. I take care of my family.”

  “I don’t want to. And I didn’t mean you aren’t capable, but you have to see beyond to the what-ifs. I can’t…” Finish. I cut off and blinked back tears. He rose and came to me.

  “Baby, I promise I will never let anything happen to her. Or you. I swear on my life. I swear to God.”

  I couldn’t look at him. I felt what I was about to say would seem like betrayal. “What about her mother?”

  With a slight pause, he stiffened, his demeanor changing. “What about her?”

  He was growing defensive, not a good sign. It meant he had something to hide, something terrible. I cleared my throat again, unsure of how to proceed. “Maybe she should take Ginger for a while. You know, until you clear things up. Where is she?”

  “Ginger doesn’t have a mother,” he snapped. “She doesn’t know her, and she can’t leave here. I told you, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my daughter.”

  Seeing him this way stabbed through my heart. My words must have stirred some painful memories. I rose and reached for him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I didn’t know.” He let me hug him, but he tensed in my arms. I pulled back, my hands still on his shoulders. “What happened? Did she leave Ginger?”

  His eyes flinched with pain, and my mouth went dry.

  I didn’t know how to make it right. “I’m so sorry. I’m stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything. I had no idea. Please, forgive what I said.” I hadn’t breached the subject before, and I didn’t know anything about Ginger’s mother. Now, I couldn’t imagine a worse situation. She could be dead, and here I was, yapping about her leaving her child. I dared a glance at him and saw how, with each word I spoke, his expression grew darker. I shut up. I’d hit the nail on the head, but that nail went straight into Dawson’s heart.

  “It’s not your fault,” he started, bending over the kitchen sink.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. I made you feel bad…”

  “It’s not your fault,” he repeated with a hint of guilt, and I couldn’t understand that.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, certain that it was all my fault for making him remember.

  “It’s not your fault. It’s…mine.”

  I didn’t get it. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Ginger doesn’t have a mother.”

  “You said that. I’m sorry.” I grew a bit frantic.

  “You don’t understand. She doesn’t have a mother. She doesn’t have a father, either.”

  “What are you talking about?” Of course she had a father. He stood in front of me. What was Dawson going through?

  He made a choking sound, and guilt emanated from him, the same guilt as when he’d confessed his dreadful past to me. My knees weakened as I tried not to think the worst. I reached for a chair and dropped into it, my mind blurring against coherent thought. Probably a protective measure, but Dawson broke through, giving me the worst, as I’d expected. “I’m not her father. I don’t know anything about her mother, except she never met her. But her father…I knew him.”

  An icy silence settled over us, creating a chilled atmosphere that slowed my heartbeat. He cleared his throat, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was harsh and raspy, like sandpaper. “He’s the reason the Valves don’t kill anymore.”

  Bile rose in my throat, the urge to leave filling every fiber of my being. I stood, and I spoke without my brain’s permission. “I’ll take Ginger. She can’t stay here with you anymore.”

  “What are you saying?” His voice pleaded with panic, but I didn’t give in.

  I stepped back. “I can’t stand the thought of her being in danger. I’m taking her with me, and that’s the end of it!” He reached for my hand, but I pulled back farther, aiming for the door and barely able to hold back tears.

  “Mari, think about your job! I swear, I’ll do everything in my power to protect her. Both of you. You’re my life now, too.”

  I swallowed hard, determined. “No, Dawson. Until you’re done with the Valves, I’m taking Ginger. She’s not safe here, around you. To hell with my job. She’s more important.” The next words hurt but I had to say them. With my hand on the door, I said, “I’ll call Child Protective Services in the morning, and I’ll take her, Dawson.” I chanced a glance back at him and saw his eyes widen. I didn’t want to hurt him, so I clarified, as best I could, “I won’t tell them about you. I just…intend to let them know Ginger will be relocating and needs a change of guardianship. I…” Couldn’t go on, seeing the pain in his eyes. I wanted to look down, but he came toward me, and I shook my head. “Don’t Dawson. I can’t…”

  I left, running to my house and slamming the door behind me. My vision blurred with heavy tears as the thud of the door sounded in my heart like an omen, shutting the door on a major part of my life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  The previous night’s events left me exhausted. By recess, every ounce of my energy had long been depleted. My students were outside. I should’ve been with them, playing in the schoolyard, but the peace and quiet of the classroom called me and proved healthier. I looked out the window again, checking on the two teachers who agreed to look after my students, and then I laid my head on the desk, my arms folded underneath.

  I didn’t plan on falling asleep, but I closed my eyes briefly and felt the sweet embrace of slumber whisking me gently away. I wasn’t sure at first if I was asleep or awake. Bits of reality mingled with dreams in a mosaic that kept me out of deep relaxation but didn’t keep me fully awake. It was warm and pleasant, and I gave in easily. It made me feel better about everything, forgetting the ugliness of life and what I had to do.

  Last night was the hardest, and sleep had eluded me. Ginger’s sleepover had been extended to last through the weekend, and I suspected Dawson had something to do with it. I hadn’t said anything because I knew that, while it was a selfish move, it was for the best. There was too much tension between her father and I.

  My limbs grew cold, and I frowned. I didn’t like gradually waking up, so I tried to adjust my position and go back to sleep. But a commotion outside interrupted me. Groaning, I lifted my head and looked out.

  I saw children running around and the two teachers fussing about in the middle of the playground. Still a bit hazy with sleep, I looked closer, and with understanding came shock. It jumpstarted me into a sprint. Knocking back my chair, I ran out the door, almost falling over because my feet were still asleep.

  But in seconds, I was outside, gauging the situation. The reason for the commotion cleared as I got closer. One of my students was crying, and one of the teachers tried to comfort her, while the other teacher gently reprimanded one of the older children not far away, wisely separating the two.

  A stocky boy, maybe two years older, seemed upset with the situation. He kept repeating things like, “It’s not my fault,” and “She is a lesbo”

  I went to my student and crouched down. “What happened?” I mouthed.

  The teacher nearest me returned a chilling gaze before answering. “The older student verbally attacked this girl. Said something awful about her having two mothers. You should have been here, as her teacher.” The middle aged woman glared at me.

  I said nothing, my colleague right this time. I hugged the child and tried to brace myself for a tongue lashing from the principal, who approached us with a steady gait. I feared the incident might be the last straw in his eyes with his determination that my behavior had been lacking for the last few months. Would I get fired before taking Ginger for good?


  I couldn’t think of a defense for myself as Principal Deck stopped a few feet away from the scene. “What happened here?” he asked quietly.

  I was surprised that none of the other teachers said anything. Grateful for their help, I stood, holding the little girl to my chest and clearing my throat. “Apparently, Mr. Clarkson’s student had another episode. He spoke to Annie and upset her.”

  “He said bad things about my mommies!” Annie sobbed, shaking in my arms.

  “Apparently?” Deck asked, staring at me and ignoring the child.

  “That is what happened,” I mumbled, swallowing hard. I tried to look unassuming, but I suspected I wasn’t very convincing.

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We’ll call her mother. Get her to the nurse’s office for now. And Mr. Clarkson? You and your student proceed to my office.” The turned on his heel, hands clasped behind his back, and left.

  I took a deep breath, relieved this was over. I knew my small victory wouldn’t last long, and the worst was yet to come. Annie’s mother was a wealthy divorced woman and an obnoxious Femi-Nazi. She held strong beliefs and had a habit of shouting them. I heard she had been involved in an altercation a couple years ago. Not the easiest parent to deal with.

  Dreading it, I excused myself and took Annie to see the nurse. Still regarding me with a hint of disdain, the other teacher stayed behind to gather the rest of my students and send them to the classroom.

  In the nurse’s office, rumors already circulated about the incident. I kept my mouth shut and focused on Annie. She seemed calmer, and I took that as a good sign. Maybe her mother wouldn’t explode after all. But it was a naïve thought, and she quickly proved me wrong.

  With her usual attitude, Annie’s mother burst into the room, still shouting at Mr. Deck. “How could you let something like this happen?” She turned her anger on me.

  “You have my apologies, Mrs…”

  “I don’t care how sorry you are! I want the other kid expelled! Sexism and homophobia should not be tolerated! Especially when children are involved.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration, ma’am. I understand where you come from, and I admit this incident is unfortunate. But to expel the other child is not the best solution.”

  “What?” she roared. The pitch of her voice stiffened my spine, and I stole a glance at Annie, who started to sob again.

  Mr. Deck cleared his throat. “I think Miss Bennett means that, indeed, expulsion is a drastic measure. But the incident is, indeed, of significant importance. We as teachers need to enforce the right sort of education.” I nodded, surprised he agreed with me. He continued, “Because this is an example of significantly bad behavior, expelling the student is, as you say, the best course of action.”

  “Wait, what?” I blurted out.

  “You’re a Communist and a sexist!” she accused. “I will transfer my child to another school, Miss Bennett, if you continue to set such a negative example for these kids.” Her threats flew while her daughter sat alone on the nurse’s couch, crying again. She didn’t even glance at Annie, too busy launching an unwarranted crusade against me.

  “No need for defamation,” Deck intervened, eyeing me with a sideling glance.

  I didn’t back down. “I believe it’s natural for children in this developmental phase to learn from experience. And that shows me that some behaviors are taught at home. It isn’t the boy’s fault that this behavior is what he sees at home. If we dump him like some pariah, we’re not being good teachers. There’s no one else to correct it.”

  “What qualifies you to argue that?” she challenged.

  I cleared my throat and supplied, “My degree in Child Psychology and my experience working with children.”

  She smirked. “Do you have children, Miss Bennett?” I thought of Ginger but shook my head. “Then don’t talk to me about children. Find me when you’re a mother. Until then, I want this delinquent expelled.”

  I stared in shock, no longer participating in the conversation or the decision. Troubled by the upcoming change in my life, I had to ask myself if I had children. I was choosing to take Ginger from Dawson, choosing to be her guardian. Her mother? The thought left me lightheaded and confused, stirring another struggle inside.

  What the hell was I doing?

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  “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 alon
e. 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.