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He wasn’t wrong. That meant she wanted him too. The joy of it made the room spin around him. He reached for her, but she held up a hand to stop him.
“Can we do this later, Galen? The principal needs to see me at the school.”
He froze, finally taking in the details of her appearance. She was pale, and the hand holding her phone trembled. Something was wrong. All other worries and considerations fled from his mind. “Why?”
“They know about my book.”
“So?”
“So some people might think she shouldn’t be teaching fourth-graders,” her mother said, as if that made total sense to her.
Brenda’s color came and went, and she ran her tongue across dry lips. She nodded in confirmation of Laney’s comment.
“They’re wrong,” Galen said flatly. “I’m coming with you.”
“That’s not—”
“Please. Let me come with you.”
“But my note…you looked so angry…” She wrung her hands together, looking so miserable he wanted to sweep her into his arms. He resisted the urge, because then he’d never want to let her go.
“We can talk about all that later.” He took her hand in a firm grasp. “Come on. I got you. I got your back. Let’s go.”
The flush of gratitude that flooded over her face clinched it in his mind. She loved him too, and not only that, she needed him.
As long as that was true—but only if that was true—he’d be here for her, like a burr stuck on her coat.
twenty-eight
Somehow word had gotten out, and a small crowd had gathered in the hallway outside the principal’s office at Lake Bittersweet Elementary. Once Galen had declared he was coming with her, Brenda’s mother and grandmother had followed suit. So Brenda arrived at the school with her own little entourage.
Galen’s instant and unquestioning declaration of support had galvanized her family into doing the same. No one would ever guess that CeCe and Laney were at odds, or that her mother had tried to bribe her to ditch Galen.
God, she loved that man. If only she could find a moment to tell him so. But that wasn’t so easy to come by in a packed car or a crowded hallway.
Principal Roscoe poked his head out the door and blinked at the crowd. He was a mild-mannered former teacher in his seventies who planned to retire soon. He abhorred controversy above all else. He caught Brenda’s eye and beckoned to her. She eyed the group that filled the space between her and the principal. Were they with her or against her? She couldn’t tell.
She took one last look at Galen, who gave her an encouraging nod and a squeeze of her hand. “Go ahead, we’ll be here.”
But before she could go any farther, shouts broke out among the crowd.
“Are you going to fire her?” called one woman.
“We don’t need that kind of crap around here!” yelled an older man.
Brenda didn’t recognize either of them. She knew all the parents of her own students, and many of the others. These particular angry people looked old to be parents; maybe they were concerned grandparents?
“No decision has been made,” said Principal Roscoe. But the nervous tone of his voice told her that might not be true. He was just trying to work out the least controversial way to handle this situation.
A flurry of shouts shot through the air like bullets.
“Fire her or we’ll picket!”
“Boycott!”
“Get rid of her!”
“We’ll shut this place down!”
