He had the decency to flinch at that, but pressed on. “Mrs. Westfield showed the board photos from some rally. You were wearing… insignia. Patches that looked… intimidating.”
I almost laughed. My vest with the American flag patch. The POW/MIA emblem I wore to honor my brother who never came home from Vietnam. The patch that said “Rolling Thunder” because we supported veterans.
“Ray, please understand our position. The safety of the children—”
“Don’t.” I held up my hand. “Don’t you dare talk to me about the safety of those kids. I carried Jessica Meyer from her driveway to the bus for three years after her accident. I performed CPR on Tyler Brooks when he had an asthma attack. I’ve gotten every single child home safe through forty-two years of driving, even when the roads were sheets of ice and I couldn’t feel my fingers on the wheel.”
My voice broke then, something that hadn’t happened since Margaret passed five years back.
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