Her Kind of Man. Pamela Yaye

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      Kenyon rubbed a hand over his head. “Let’s hold off on hiring a lawyer until we know what happened. Once we know the truth we can—”

      Veronika dismissed his suggestion with a flip of her hand. “Terrance wouldn’t lie to me. There’s nothing to discuss. Ms. Stevens hurt him. Case closed. I’m going to sue the skirt off her and there’s nothing you can say to stop me.” She brushed a strand of dark blond hair out of her eyes. “No one messes with my baby and gets away with it!”

      Kenyon had heard enough of his sister-in-law’s ranting for one day. He was just as upset as she was about what happened but he wasn’t going to lose his head. Kenyon knew little about Ms. Stevens, but she didn’t strike him as the kind of person who would intentionally harm a child. She was warm and nurturing and seemed to have a soft touch for kids. Then again, he’d learned a long time ago that looks could be deceiving. Kenyon turned to Terrance. “I’m going to the cafeteria. Do you want anything, li’l man?”

      Absorbed in cartoons, Terrance shook his head.

      “Veronika?”

      “No, thanks.”

      Kenyon opened the door and strode down the hall to the elevators. As she reached out to press the down button, the elevator doors slid open and Ms. Stevens stepped off.

      “Oh,” she said, stopping abruptly. “Hi.”

      Kenyon took a deep breath. Her feminine fragrance sweetened the antiseptic smell in the corridor. “Hello, Ms. Stevens.”

      Makayla could tell by his subdued greeting that he wasn’t happy to see her. Still, she could see the deep brown flecks in his eyes more clearly under the fluorescent lights, as well as his flawless skin. The man was truly a sight to behold. “I came to see Terrance. How is he?”

      “We’re waiting on the X-rays.”

      “Can I see him?” She lifted the bag she was holding in her hand. “I bought him something to help pass the time. Nothing big, just some puzzles, a few coloring books and his homework.”

      Kenyon stole a look down the hall. Veronika was standing outside Terrance’s room, talking on her cell phone. “Now’s not a good time.”

      “When should I come back?”

      “I’ll tell Terrance you stopped by.”

      Makayla held out the bag. “Can you see to it that he gets this?”

      “Sure.”

      “Do you have a few minutes? I was hoping we could talk about—”

      “You bitch!”

      Makayla froze. Storming down the hall, screaming obscenities marched Veronika Blake. Narrowly missing an elderly man in a wheelchair, she flung her hands and yelled, “How dare you show your face here after what you did!”

      Eyes wide, Makayla looked helplessly at Kenyon. She shrank back like a panic-stricken child and frantically jabbed the elevator button. “I’ll leave.”

      Kenyon felt for Veronika, he really did, but now was not the time for her to act out a scene from A Thin Line Between Love and Hate. He stepped forward, blocking her path. “We’ll discuss this later.”

      “Like hell we will. I’m going to kick her ass!”

      Kenyon gripped her shoulders. “No, you’re not. You’re going to go back to Terrance. He needs you, remember?”

      The mention of her son’s name momentarily calmed her. Her thin lips curved into an ugly sneer. She wagged a finger at Makayla. “If you ever put your hands on my son again, you’ll be sorry. Trust me. You haven’t heard the last of me, Ms. Stevens. This is only the beginning.” Straightening her sweater, she shot Makayla an evil look and tramped off.

      When Kenyon turned around, he was shocked to see Ms. Stevens shaking. Her eyes were heavy with tears and her bottom lip was quivering. As curious as he was to find out what had happened that afternoon on the playground, he didn’t have the heart to question her. Overtaken by compassion, he put a hand on her back, steered her into the open elevator and said, “Let’s go somewhere to talk.”

      The main-floor cafeteria was bright, modern and clean. There were dozens of round tables and several gigantic windows, which overlooked an open field. Hospital personnel occupied many of the tables.

      Makayla plopped down on one of the cold plastic chairs and buried her face in her hands. This had to be the worst day of her life.

      After recess, Principal Gibson had summoned her to his office. He’d stared at her for several minutes before he finally asked, “What happened outside at recess, Ms. Stevens?”

      Since Makayla had nothing to hide, she told the truth. “I grabbed Terrance’s arm, but he broke free and jumped off the play structure. Everything happened so fast I—”

      “You do know the school’s discipline policies, don’t you, Ms. Stevens?”

      “Yes, but—”

      “School personnel are not supposed to touch children in an aggressive manner.”

      “I am well aware of that, Principal Gibson, but I had no other choice. Terrance wasn’t responding to my orders and—”

      “Terrance said you pushed him.”

      “He said what!”

      “Is that true, Ms. Stevens? Did you hurt that child?”

      “No, of course not. I would never—”

      Principal Gibson leaned forward in his chair, his gaze strong and intense. “Have you ever heard of teacher burnout, Ms. Stevens? In my day, things like this happened all the time. Stressed teachers would rough up students and—”

      Makayla tuned out. Images of being frisked and handcuffed in front of her students attacked her fragile mind. In one of her more lucid moments, she heard Principal Gibson ask if she was okay. She must have nodded, because he advised her to seek legal counsel and informed her the superintendent would be in touch.

      Later that night, Desiree showed up with a tall, lean-faced man who smelled like new money. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal gray suit, shiny cufflinks and a designer watch, he strolled into Makayla’s living room as if he had the deed to the house.

      Desiree knew a host of white-collar men, everyone from plastic surgeons to city officials to restaurateurs, so Makayla didn’t blink when she was introduced to Chancellor Hughes, attorney-at-law. Somewhere between serving coffee and telling her side of the story, Makayla remembered that she was innocent. She wasn’t burned out, or stressed, or lashing out like Principal Gibson had implied. She was wrong for grabbing Terrance’s arm but she wasn’t responsible for his fall. Makayla listened politely to Mr. Hughes, but when he recommended she take a polygraph test to clear her name, she kindly showed him the door.

      “Give it some thought,” he told her, handing over a crisp white business card. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need me.”

      After a quick stop at the school, Makayla drove СКАЧАТЬ