“Tell me what I’ll be doing. Washing windows? Sweeping floors?” She cocked her head. “No, you’ll be working with the kids as my aide.” His whole face closed down. His hands fisted briefly. He reminded her of a picture in a Sunday school book she’d seen when she was little of a sinner condemned to hell. “No, I won’t, Ms. McPherson. I will not, ever, be working with kids.” “But that’s all we have here for you to do.”
