She led the way because I had no clue where her classroom was. The other times I brought her, I would just let her out at the end of the walkway and watch until she was inside the building like Marcela instructed me to do. Finger paintings and posters splashed color on the otherwise plain setting. The halls were far quieter than I expected, too-compared to those of the public school I attended as a kid. St. Ann's prided themselves on the good behavior of their student body, though. They enforced the rules heavily from what I heard. Apparently, that extended to their staff as well. At the thought of how they'd done Brynn, my free hand tightened into a fist as we slowed our pace.
The new teacher met us at the door of Bel's classroom wearing a smile for my niece. "Good morning, Isobel!" she chirped. Bel didn't respond or smile back and I recalled her saying she didn't particularly care for the woman. For that reason, I didn't correct the behavior or force her to speak, although I was sure, as the adult, I probably should have.
Bel turned to walk in and take her seat, but I stopped her.
"Hey, forgetting something?" I called out, gaining her attention. When she doubled back, I crouched down low to match her height. The big hug I gave her was reciprocated with a tight squeeze around my neck.
"I love you. Be good."
She giggled into my ear at the absurd statement. "I'm always good, silly," she countered.
I kissed her forehead. "You're absolutely right."
As I stood straight again, Bel hurried over to her seat. I watched until she got settled in with a sheet of paper and her pencil on the table in front of her, talking and laughing with the girl beside her. I turned from the door and backtracked toward the front of the school where I hoped to have a talk with Turner.
Marcela's concerns came to mind again, but I didn't plan to cause any trouble. All I wanted was to gain an understanding as to how Turner, or anyone else, justified what they'd done to Brynn. As far as I was concerned, our situation wasn't anyone's business but ours.
Period.
Damn the contract.
The hallway was starting to clear as a warning bell sounded and the stragglers picked up the pace. I didn't quite have what I wanted to say nailed down, but it was probably best that way. I'd give this man a chance to speak his piece and we'd go from there.
There were two offices directly across from one another-one marked ‘Main' and the other ‘Administrative'. The main office was where I expected to find Turner and the second I walked through the door, I felt the vibe of the woman seated there-middle-aged, looked like she forgot how to smile a long time ago. She eyed the tattoos on my arm first with a long, hard stare and then she finally found my face. There was no attempt whatsoever at hiding the judgment she passed on me long before I even spoken a single word. In my line of work, I'd been on the receiving end of that look enough times to recognize it and be numb to it.
"May I help you?" she asked in a dry tone.
I rested my elbows on the high counter separating the waiting area from the three wooden desks behind it. "Good mornin'," I said first, using my manners, although she hadn't done the same. "I need to speak to Turner. He in?" I asked, nodding in the direction of the closed door with the man's nameplate mounted beside it.
Her vacant expression didn't change as she glanced down at her computer screen again, returning to whatever task she was engaged in before I entered. Apparently, I didn't deserve her full attention.
"May I ask what this is in regards to?" was her next question; however, I had no intentions on giving her much more information than I already had.
"It's a personal matter," I answered, earning myself a hard look from the woman when she quickly whipped her head my way. "Now, is he in or what? I'm pressed for time." I added, glancing down at my watch.
She was listening now … and mad, too, from the looks of it.
Before she had a chance to respond, the very door I'd been staring at swung open and a tall, dark-haired man stepped out, clutching a folder beneath his arm. He handed it off to the woman acting as gatekeeper and then glanced up at me. When he smiled and I didn't, he turned to his secretary, possibly picking up on the tension in room.
"Jean, uh … has this gentleman been helped?" Turner asked.
The lady, Jean, cut her eyes at me again. "He's asked to see you," she answered.
I was still in shock that this was the guy I was looking for. In my head, he was supposed to be much older-head full of gray hair, wrinkled with cataracts. I assumed as much because, again, in my head, someone old-fashioned enough, primitive enough, to fire a woman because she's pregnant and unmarried had to be ancient. But that wasn't the case. If I had to guess, he was in his late thirties, early forties.
"Do we have an appointment?" he asked, speaking to me again. His tone was polite and I got the impression he was a little confused about why I looked so upset, but he'd know soon enough.
"We don't, but it's urgent," I assured him.
He glanced down at his secretary and then up at me. "Well, I uh … I don't have anything pressing to do at the moment, so please, come on in," he offered, gesturing for me to enter his office.
I rounded the counter and glared at the secretary before passing Turner at his door. He closed it behind us and offered me a seat. I took it and then watched him take his own, holding the striped necktie he wore to his chest as he lowered.
"So, what can I do for you today, Mr … "
"Rios," I replied.
"Ah, ok. What can I do for you today, Mr. Rios?" he repeated.
Tension spread across my shoulders and I focused on the pictures that lined his desk-one of a kid posing in a soccer uniform, another of him and a blonde I assumed was his wife, another of a young girl about the same age as Bel.
I looked at those pictures and wondered if he was the one person on Earth who'd done everything right. That had to be the case in order for him to come down so hard on Brynn. Turner must've done everything by the book. There were no hiccups or shortcomings to speak of. That was all a bunch of bull, but I had a feeling this guy thought at least this highly of himself. The bottom line is that we all come from different places in life. My normal might not look like the next guys', but that's okay. Well, it should be anyway. But it's people like Turner who make it their point to shame those whose normal doesn't mirror their own.
And I was here to shut that down.
The only difference between him and Brynn was that she didn't have any way to hide what she'd done. As her stomach grew, she'd be on display for friends and family to see and there's no hiding it. I'd bet money Turner had a few things on record that would tarnish his reputation if they were outed. Thinking about it all, I felt myself getting angry.
I reached for one of the frames and picked it up, staring at the faces of strangers behind the glass.
"Beautiful family."
Turner sat back in his seat and laced his fingers across his stomach. There was such pride in his voice when he responded, "Thank you. That's my wife of twelve years, Caroline; my son, Jensen, is eight, and little Molly just turned six last month."
I gave a nod, imagining the tidy little life he and Caroline had built for themselves. "I uh … I bet you're very protective of them," I added distractedly. My eyes stayed trained on his wife and children. "That right?"
Turner's seat made a sound as he straightened his posture, meeting my gaze when I set the picture back where I found it. "I am," he answered.
I nodded again. His response was what I expected and it helped me make my next point. "Then it should be pretty easy for you to understand why I'm here today."
His brow creased and his head tilted to the side. "I don't uh … I don't follow."
I let out a long breath and said one thing, one name: "Brynn Palmer."
Turner stared for a moment and then held my gaze as he slowly folded his arms across his chest. "What about her?"
"You let a good teacher go because of something that had absolutely nothing to do with her job. I just came here hoping you could help me understand the thought process behind making a decision like that." When I finished speaking, I sat back and waited for an answer. I really was curious to know how he, and whoever had a hand in firing Brynn, justified what they'd done.
A smirk from Turner set me on edge, but I kept my cool. My mom used to always tell me that the louder you are, the harder you are to hear. It would take everything in me not to cuss this dude out, especially if he didn't wipe that grin off his face, but I definitely came here to be heard. For that reason, I was taking my mother's advice.
"Mr. Rios is it?" he asked, seeking clarity.