Brute: The Valves MC (16 page)

When I came to, I was cold. A hand slid over my shoulder, and I bucked, horrifying thoughts of what the stranger must have done to me swirling through my mind. I had to get away! I elbowed aimlessly and tried to get up, unsure of my surroundings. But a strong arm wrapped around me, and I relaxed at the voice in my ear.

“Calm down, baby. You’re fine. I’m here,” he whispered, warm breath dancing on my neck.

My body went limp, and I would have drifted back to sleep if not for the wave of nausea that came over me. I stood automatically and reached to grab something. I needed to get to a bathroom, fast.

“Shh, you’re fine! It’s me,” Dawson tried to comfort me again, but I shook my head.

I couldn’t speak, or I might get sick in front of him. My vision cleared, and I saw I was in his bedroom. I fell on the bed and rose again, unsteady, and headed for the bathroom. He tried to follow, but I pushed him out and closed the door. The minutes felt like hours as I worked to make myself presentable, and I looked at my watch. Fifteen minutes. He must be disgusted!

I stepped out of the room with my eyes on the ground. I didn’t dare look at him. I started to apologize, but he grabbed me by the shoulders. “Baby, are you okay? Should I get you to the hospital?”

I lifted my gaze to his, confused. “What? No, I’m fine. Maybe a mild concussion. Did I hit my head?”

He shook his head. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, and he walked me back to the bed. I waited for details under his warm, enveloping gaze, and I relaxed once again with a hesitant smile. “What happened?” I asked.

“You fainted baby. Just as…uh, the guy was leaving. Are you sure you’re all right?” I nodded again, despite a wave of dizziness. I leaned against the headboard, trying to get control, and I thought of Ginger. “Oh, God, is she all right?” I exclaimed, jumping off the bed and dashing through the door. I stopped in the doorframe to her room, only then remembering she was at a sleepover. I turned to find Dawson watching me with heavy concern. “I forgot she wasn’t home,” I mumbled, waving it off and starting for the kitchen.

He was on my heels. “Maybe you should lie down a bit longer.”

I shook my head. “I just need some tea.” Before I got the sentence out, he was heating the water. “Make it with lemon.” I smiled sheepishly and he smiled back, pulling his head out of the cupboard.

I felt suddenly tired but didn’t want to sit down. I went to the window. Outside, the night was dark, but the rain had stopped. I opened the window, welcoming the cold, fresh air, breathing in a lungful. Another wave of nausea struck, but I suppressed it. Focused on not getting sick in his kitchen, I didn’t notice Dawson’s approach until he circled me and pulled me tight to his chest. It made me smile, and I leaned into him, my uneasiness already slipping away.

He gently kissed my neck, and I giggled, and if it weren’t for my dire need of a cup of tea, I would’ve taken him back to the bedroom. I turned into his arms and kissed his lips, the kettle whistling its job done. He pulled away and took my hand. I let him guide me to the table and sit me down, and I watched him prepare our drinks in matching mugs.

I circled mine with both hands, the warmth helping against the bite of the chilly draft from outside. Dawson gestured to the window, and I nodded. He rose to close it. Looking down into my mug, my thoughts drifted to Ginger again. I wondered how she was, questioned if she was better off away from here. But then, I felt guilty for such a thought. I had to do something, so I cleared my throat and asked, “These guys, the Valves, seem really bad.” He glanced up with a frown, and I went on, “Violent, I mean. Like this guy, he tried to assault me.”

“Yeah, they’re a vile bunch. I’m sorry, baby. Really sorry for that.” I waited for more, watching him and knowing there was more on his mind. I knew he would tell me if given enough space. “Why do you think I want to sever ties? I don’t like this life anymore.”

I raised a brow. “Anymore?”

He sighed and rubbed his brow. “I haven’t liked it for a while, baby, a long while.” A shadow washed over his face, like he tried to keep bad memories at bay. I wanted to comfort him so badly, but I knew that would put an end to any discussion. I just sat there, watching and trying to give him a look of acceptance. He had to get things off his chest, and I wasn’t going to let him harbor any of those things anymore. But I wouldn’t push. He hedged, “I really am trying to get out. I promise, it’s just that it’s hard. It’s not a simple get up and leave situation. I’ve considered all the possibilities, and I have to make sure I don’t step on any toes. Do you understand?”

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.

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?