Chapter 57
Chapter Fifty-Seven
LILY
Standing in the living room—Ronan’s living room—I can almost see the ghosts of our younger selves.
The dreams we whispered to each other in the dark of that factory, the futures we imagined between stolen kisses and shared warmth.
All of it here, made real in hardwood floors and built-in bookshelves, in morning light streaming through windows that still need replacing.
I move deeper into the room and trail my fingers along one empty shelf, feeling the smoothness of the wood that’s waiting to hold stories.
“He really listened to everything I said, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Ronan’s voice is rough behind me.
The enormity of what Harris did hits me all at once. He didn’t just leave Ronan a house. He left him the exact house we used to dream about. The one place that might actually make him want to stay.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out, checking the messages. The reminder shatters the moment like glass.
School board meeting. One hour.
Reality crashes back in. Beverly Walsh will be there, waiting with another carefully crafted narrative she’s developed about my fitness to teach.
Ronan must see something in my expression because he steps closer. “What is it?”
“The board meeting.” My stomach twists, nausea rising. “It’s in an hour. I should go back home and change.”
“I can drive you.” He pauses, uncertainty crossing his face. “Actually, that’s a bad idea. Of course I shouldn’t. It’ll just make things worse for you.”
And there it is. A crossroads. I can go home, change into something professional, and arrive at school alone like I’m ashamed of being seen with him. Or …
“I’d like that … if you don’t mind giving me a ride, I mean.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.” And I am. I’m done hiding. I’m done letting Beverly Walsh and her particular brand of small-town morality dictate my choices. “I’m not ashamed of being seen with you, Ronan. I never was.”
A mix of things flash across his face—surprise, maybe hope—before he can hide it. But before either of us can say anything more, movement catches my eye through the window. There’s a man standing on the neighboring porch. He sees me looking and waves, then disappears inside his house.
Ronan sighs, but the sound isn’t so much irritated as resigned. “Tom doesn’t believe in boundaries.”
A moment later, the front door opens again. Tom appears, crossing the yard between the two houses with surprising speed for his age.
The older man flashes Ronan a grin when he opens the door and lets himself in.
“Well, this is interesting.” He looks from Ronan to me. “Didn’t take long, did it?”
“We were just leaving.” I check my phone again. The board meeting looms closer. “I have to be somewhere—”
“To hear your fate from our favorite judge?” He laughs at my surprised look. “How long have you lived in this town? You can’t be surprised that everyone knows everything.” His expression turns more serious. “That’s why I came over, actually. I have something for you.”
He takes an envelope out of his back pocket and hands it to me.
“Take that with you. Give it to Beverly. But only if things get bad. If she leaves you with no other choice, or you think you’re going to lose your job.”
I take it, frowning at the weight. “What is it?”
His smile holds an edge. “Insurance, for when Beverly starts rewriting history to suit whatever story she wants to spin.”
He walks out of the house with us, and stops beside the car, leaning forward when I settle into the passenger seat. “Make sure you take that envelope into the meeting with you, Lily. Don’t leave it in the car.”
He slams the door, and bangs on the roof, and Ronan reverses off the driveway. We pause at my place so I can take a shower and change into something more suitable than the jeans and T-shirt I was wearing, and then we head back out.
The drive to school passes too quickly. When Ronan pulls into the parking lot, my eyes find the classroom where I’ve spent the last year teaching. My hands are shaking, and I press them flat against my thighs.
“Do you want me to wait, or get out of here before someone sees me?”
I lean over and kiss him, pouring everything I can’t say into it. “Wait for me.”
The boardroom is full when I enter. My heart pounds against my ribs as I step inside.
Principal Martinez rises from her seat near the door, giving me a small nod.
Beverly Walsh sits at the head of the table, perfectly coiffed in her designer suit, pearl necklace gleaming.
She looks like she’s presiding over a trial.
The other board members fill their usual seats.
Robert Anderson and William Hayes sit on Beverly’s right, both old money who have never voted against her.
Dr. Eleanor Stewart, who’s served on the board almost as long as Beverly, takes the spot on Beverly’s left.
Michael Burke and Anne Sullivan complete the row.
I take the single empty seat facing the row, spine straight, chin lifted. The envelope from Tom burns in my pocket.
“Ms. Gladwin.” Beverly’s voice carries that particular note of false concern she’s perfected over the years. “I trust you understand why you’ve been called into this meeting?”
My mouth is dry, a lump forming in my throat, but I force myself to speak clearly. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”
Her smile is cold. “We’re concerned about your … judgment, and your choices. The example you’re setting for our youngest and most impressionable students.”
“You mean the choice to stop a fight?” I meet her gaze. “Or the choice to see past someone’s mistakes?”
“The choice to engage in public displays of inappropriate behavior with someone who has a violent criminal record.” She shuffles some papers, then slides a newspaper clipping across the table.
It’s a grainy photograph of the incident outside Wilson’s.
“And then to involve yourself in an altercation that resulted in injury. Parents don’t want their children exposed to someone who shows such … disregard for proper conduct.”
Heat floods my face. Before I can argue, Dr. Stewart speaks up.
"That isn’t exactly accurate. I've reviewed the police report from Saturday. Mr. Hartman was clearly the aggressor, and several witnesses confirmed—"
"Eleanor." Beverly's tone carries a clear warning. "We are not here to debate the specifics of the incident. We're here to discuss Ms. Gladwin's pattern of poor decision making."
"My students are not at risk." My voice comes out sharp. "And you have no right to—"
"We have every right!” Beverly leans forward. “When you choose to conduct yourself in a manner that reflects poorly on this school, it causes parents to question whether you should be teaching their children at all."
"What exactly are these parents questioning?" I keep my voice steady despite the anger building inside me. "My teaching ability? My dedication to my students?"
"Your judgment," Beverly repeats. "Your choices. I have multiple letters here." She pats a folder. "All expressing serious concerns about your behavior, and the example you're setting."
"May I see them?"
Her lips pinch together. "I'm afraid these parents requested anonymity. They're worried about potential ... retaliation."
"That's convenient." The bitterness in my voice is impossible to hide. "Just like it was convenient when you spread rumors about Ronan seven years ago. When you made sure everyone believed exactly what you wanted them to believe about a homeless kid who needed help."
"Ms. Gladwin." Robert Anderson leans forward. "This attitude isn't helping your case."
"No?" Something snaps inside me and I laugh. "Then let me be perfectly clear. You're not concerned about the children, and you don’t care about my teaching ability. This is about you having control, and making sure everyone in this town falls in line with Beverly's particular brand of morality."
"How dare you—" Beverly starts, but I cut her off.
"How dare I?" My voice rises. "How dare you sit there in judgment of others? How dare you decide who deserves redemption and who doesn't? Who are you to decide who gets to make mistakes and who gets crucified for them?"
"If you're referring to Mr. Oliver's criminal record—"
It’s clear that she’s already decided how this meeting is going to go, so I pull out Tom's envelope and place it on the table. "I was asked to give this to you."
Beverly reaches for it, her expression dismissive. When she opens it and pulls out a handful of photographs, her expression changes. The color drains from her cheeks and her hands shake as she stares at whatever is on them.
I catch a glimpse of one as she frantically tries to shove them back into the envelope.
A younger woman I assume is Beverly, wrapped around a leather-jacketed boy on the back of a motorcycle.
Another shows them kissing against a brick wall.
A third of her climbing out of a window, skirt up around her thighs, hair messy, and lipstick smudged.
"I move that we table this discussion." Her voice has lost its sharp edge. "Pending ... further review of the situation."
"Table it?" Dr. Stewart's eyebrows lift. "We're here because you insisted Ms. Gladwin's behavior warranted immediate review. You claimed to have dozens of parent complaints. Yet I notice those letters haven't been shared with the rest of the board."
Principal Martinez clears her throat. "I've received no formal complaints about Ms. Gladwin's teaching. In fact, several parents have specifically requested their children be placed in her class next year."
"Then unless Beverly would like to share the letters she’s received …” Michael Burke speaks for the first time, and pauses to look at Beverly. When she says nothing, clutching the envelope to her chest, he continues. “I move that we close this matter, and reinstate Ms. Gladwin immediately."
"Seconded." Dr. Stewart doesn't hesitate.
Beverly's lips press into a thin line, but she nods. "All in favor?"
The vote is unanimous.
When I walk out into the sunshine on shaky legs, Ronan is leaning against the side of the car. He straightens when he sees me, tension visible in every line of his body.
"Well?"
I practically run down the steps and throw myself into his arms.
"I still have my job." The words tumble out against his chest. "And I'm taking the rest of the week off."