Page 61 of Off Limits Daddies
So I do what I've been doing for ten years. I keep the secret and carry the guilt.
My phone rings and I see my secretary's name show up on caller ID, so I answer.
"Principal Lewis? I have two couples here requesting an urgent meeting with you."
"Did I forget about an appointment?" I ask with a frown.
"They don't have an appointment. But they're quite insistent." Her tone tells me this isn't going to be pleasant. "It's about Miss Wilson."
My stomach drops. "I'll be back in the office in twenty minutes."
The Hendersons and the Pattersons file into my office with tight expressions and folded arms. I recognize them from various school events. Their children are sophomores in Mia's English class.
"Thank you for seeing us without an appointment," Mrs. Henderson says, though her tone suggests she expected nothing less.
"Of course. Please, have a seat." I gesture to the chairs across from my desk, already knowing where this conversation is headed.
They sit stiffly. Mrs. Patterson clears her throat.
"We've heard some concerning rumors about Miss Wilson," she begins.
I keep my expression neutral, folding my hands on my desk. "What kind of rumors?"
"About her past," she says, leaning forward. "About why she left Riverside so suddenly ten years ago. About her reputation. And we're concerned about whether someone with such a questionable past should be teaching our children."
I take a slow breath, slipping into the role of Principal Lewis. Calm, professional, unshakeable. "I can assure you thatMiss Wilson is a qualified, dedicated teacher with impeccable credentials."
"Credentials aren't everything," Mr. Henderson says. "Character matters. And from what we've heard, her character is questionable at best."
"What specifically have you heard?" I ask, my voice hardening despite my best efforts.
The four parents exchange uncomfortable glances. Mrs. Patterson speaks first. "That she was involved with multiple men. That she left town because of some kind of scandal."
The word hangs in the air like an accusation. I feel my jaw tighten.
"We have daughters in her class," Mrs. Henderson continues. "We don't want them exposed to that kind of influence."
"Miss Wilson's personal life is her own business," I say carefully, each word measured. "What matters is her performance as a teacher. And in that regard, she's exceeded expectations."
"But surely you can understand our concerns," Mr. Patterson insists. "The moral character of our children's teachers matters."
I lean back in my chair, studying each of them. "What I understand is that you've come to my office with vague rumors and no concrete complaints about Miss Wilson's actual teaching. Has she been inappropriate with students? Has she failed to maintain professional boundaries? Has her instruction been inadequate in any way?"
Silence.
"I didn't think so," I continue. "Miss Wilson is an excellent teacher. Her students are engaged and learning. That's what matters in this school."
"Principal Lewis," Mrs. Henderson says, her tone turning icy, "We're not the only parents who feel this way. There are others. And if the school doesn't address this situation, we'll be forced to take our concerns to the school board."
25
MIA
The card sits on my desk. I catch a glimpse of it as I gather my notes to write on the board. Simple white paper with cheerful flowers printed on the front and "Have a Good Day!" written in looping script. Inside, Kyle's handwriting:Thinking of you. Hope today brings you everything you deserve.
My stomach twists as I slide it into my desk drawer with the others. Three cards in two weeks. Each one more personal than the last.
The morning passes in a blur of lesson plans and student presentations. I keep my eyes on the clock, dreading fourth period when Kyle will walk through that door with his intense gray eyes and unsettling stillness.
