Chapter 4: Pickup Line

Floyd left Monday night without a word about the toothbrush.

He turned his phone face down against his leg, said, "I'll see you Friday," and went out to his truck.

On Tuesday I went back to work, because twenty-two kindergarteners had done nothing wrong.

Eli stayed in the staff daycare room next to my classroom, where the aide knew to call me if he so much as sneezed.

At three-fifteen the hallway filled with parents.

I stood at my door the way I do every afternoon, calling names and handing out folders.

A girl in a pink backpack hugged my legs. Her father smiled and said, "Rough weekend? You look tired, Mrs. Stallworth."

"I'm fine," I said. "Thank you."

Then the hallway got quiet from the far end.

Harlan Stallworth was walking toward my classroom in his work boots and his good hat, and Floyd's brother was a step behind him.

Parents stepped aside for him. They always had.

"Emme," Harlan said. He didn't lower his voice.

"Harlan. I'm at work."

"Then it'll be short. Friday, ten o'clock, my lawyer's office on the square. You bring that baby with you."

A mother near the water fountain had stopped with her hand on her toddler's hood.

"Eli will be at the lawyer's office when I am," I said. "I'll bring what I choose to bring."

"You'll bring the child," Harlan said, "or Sheriff comes out Friday afternoon with a paper that says you do."

His son stood behind him, grinning at the floor.

Keep reading free with an account. Start My Husband's DNA Test Said Our Baby Wasn't His from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.