Hope on the Inside

by Marie Bostwick

  “I was,” he said. “Until I came in on Monday and found out that, in my absence, the associate superintendent, Jodie Whittaker, who conducted your phone interview, and the chaplain, Nancy Hendricks, made a hiring decision based primarily on a video of you telling a sentimental story about your mother.”

  He let out a sarcastic huff, turned his head away, and mumbled something. Hope couldn’t be certain, but she was pretty sure she heard the words “women,” “incompetent,” “soft,” and an expletive linked together in a way that, assuming she was hearing him correctly, wiped away her momentary sympathy.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You can’t run a prison on sentiment,” he snapped, ignoring Hope’s affronted expression. “Look, Mrs. Carpenter, I’m sure you’re a nice person. And I’m sure you did a perfectly fine job teaching a bunch of privileged, college-bound teenagers in the suburbs—”

  “My district was in the city,” she said calmly, “and my students came from a variety of cultural, financial, and family backgrounds.”

  He shook his head while she was speaking, making it clear that he wasn’t listening. “I don’t care where you taught before, Mrs. Carpenter. You’re not qualified to teach here. If I’d been here to make the decision at the time, you wouldn’t be sitting here today. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but I believe in being up front.”

  “I’m glad to hear it because I believe in being up front, too. And the fact is, Mr. Hernandez, I am sitting here today. I received a formal letter of employment from your office. If you are trying to rescind that offer on my first day and without legal justification . . .”

  Hope crossed her legs, sat up straighter in her chair, and smiled sweetly.

  “In any case, and in spite of your reservations, I’m glad to be here. I’m going to try my best to do the job well and earn the respect of the inmates and staff, including you.”

  The superintendent pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

  “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?”

  “Yes, we will,” Hope said stoutly. “By the way, as long as we’re being up front? I just want you to know that it’s not as easy to hurt my feelings as you might think.”

  There was a knock on the door. Hernandez left off frowning long enough to bark out, “Come in!” to whoever was standing on the other side.

  Hope folded her hands in her lap, happy to have had the last word. For now.

  Was this a good idea? Did she really want to work for a condescending boss who had made up his mind to dislike her even before he’d met her? Maybe she should tell Hernandez to stuff his job, then go home and make up with Rick.

  Did she really want to spend her life dealing with two grumpy men with chips on their shoulders? One at home and the other at work?

  No. But she’d come here to do a job and she was going to do it. Neither Rick, nor David Hernandez, nor anybody else was going to stop her from doing it. Or at least from trying.

  Would she fail? Maybe. The complications of simply getting inside the building had already shown her she had a lot to learn. But she had to try.

  “Come in,” Hernandez barked impatiently, responding to a second knock.

  The door opened halfway. A woman’s head popped through.

  Her short salt-and-pepper-colored hair was gelled into stiff spikes on her head. She wore a black shirt with a white clerical collar. The bright blue rims of her enormous eyeglasses matched her blue eyes, which lit up when she spotted Hope’s face.

  “Ah! There you are! So sorry I’m late,” the woman said in a low but lilting British accent. “I wanted to be here to greet you, but I was counseling a new arrival who was pretty upset and—Anyway, doesn’t matter.”

  She waved her hand dismissively before grabbing Hope’s and pumping it enthusiastically.

  “Delighted to meet you, Hope! As soon as Jodie and I saw that video, we knew you were the right woman for the job!”

  Hope’s face lit up with recognition and relief. At least somebody in this place was glad to see her.

  “You’re Nancy, right? Beth’s cousin.”

  “Yes, and the chaplain here. I’m so happy that you and Beth ran into each other. And even happier that Beth didn’t have an opening for you!”

  Nancy let out a laugh, then clapped her hands together and looked at the superintendent and Hope in turn.

  “So? How goes it here? You two getting on?”

  Chapter 11

  Rick was sitting at a Thai restaurant, drinking hot chai and checking his phone for text messages every ninety seconds, wondering where McKenzie could be.

  It was a busy place, crowded with office workers who were in a hurry to grab a bite and get back to work. He envied them for their urgency, for having someplace they needed to be and things they needed to do, too many things. To think that he used to complain about that; he wouldn’t now.

  The waitress came over for the third time to ask if he was okay and see if he was ready to order. “That way, your food would be here when your daughter arrives. Not trying to push you,” she said. “It’s just that the kitchen gets pretty backed up at lunchtime.”

  Rick glanced at his phone again—still no text. McKenzie was often late, but not this late. Had she forgotten about their date? He decided to give her another ten minutes.

  Rick glanced at the menu, then up at the waitress. “How about some spring rolls to start. We’ll decide on entrées once she gets here.”

  He would have preferred to wait until he saw the whites of McKenzie’s eyes before placing an order, but the waitress was obviously anxious to turn the table.

  Spring rolls seemed like a good compromise. The appetizers arrived about a minute before McKenzie.

  He saw her trotting down the sidewalk in her high-heeled boots, head down and hands shoved into the pockets of her raincoat. He knocked on the rain-spattered window to try to get her attention, but she didn’t see him then, not even after she entered the restaurant and he waved. When the hostess pointed across the noisy dining room toward his table, she finally recognized him and her face lit up.

  “Sorry I’m so late, Daddy,” she said, bending down to give him a peck on the cheek before hanging her raincoat on the back of her chair. “My meeting ran long.”

  “It’s all right. You’re here now.”

  Rick pushed the spring rolls to her side of the table. McKenzie plucked one off the plate and dipped it into the sauce.

  “I’m glad you went ahead and ordered. I’ve got another meeting at one fifteen.”

  “Oh. Well, I only asked for the appetizer so far. I wanted to wait for you.”

  Rick caught the eye of the waitress and ordered spicy mango chicken. McKenzie asked what would be fastest and ordered chicken pad thai based on her recommendation. After she’d left, McKenzie apologized again for being in such a rush. Rick lifted a hand to let her know there was no need.

  “Don’t worry about it, kitten. I get it. I used to be the busiest man on the planet, remember? You do what you have to do. How’s work?”

  He took a sip of tea and waited for her to finish chewing, smiling to see how she attacked the spring rolls. She must have been starving, Rick thought. Probably rushed out of the house without eating breakfast that morning.

  That was McKenzie. Always in a hurry but always late.

  Hope was three weeks before her due date when McKenzie decided to make her entrance. Hope’s labor had gone so quickly that Rick had to pull the car over and deliver his baby daughter by the side of the road, two miles short of the hospital. It was the greatest, most terrifying, and most exhilarating ten minutes of his life.

  After the baby was born, he pulled off the sweater he’d been wearing, wrapped her up in it, and laid her in her mother’s arms. Hope, lying on the back seat of the minivan, her face beaded with sweat and glowing with happiness, looked down at her daughter, then up at her husband, and said, “My hero.”

  Though he didn’t realize it until just that moment, these were the words he’d
always wanted to hear from her. He’d spent every moment since trying to live up to them.

  “It’s good,” McKenzie said, bobbing her head and partially covering her hand with her mouth until she had a chance to swallow the entire mouthful.

  Rick arched his brows, giving her a doubtful look.

  “No, really,” she protested. “It is. It’s just a lot of hours. I always feel like I’m playing catch-up. But it’s good,” she assured him.

  “Good. And how’s Zach?”

  “Fine. Still waiting to hear about that promotion. I really hope he gets it. He’s been working so hard. Between his schedule and mine, we barely see each other. Thank God for weekends,” she said.

  The waitress arrived, apparently just in time. McKenzie practically fell on her food, shoveling the noodles into her mouth. Rick laughed.

  “You’re really hungry. Must not have eaten today, eh?”

  McKenzie shook her head. “Uh-uh. I got a McMuffin on my way to work. I think the stress of the job just makes me hungry.”

  “Oh.”

  For two minutes that felt like ten, father and daughter ate in silence. It never used to be like that, Rick thought as he chewed. Before the move, he and McKenzie would talk on the phone three times a week and never run out of conversation.

  But no. That wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t the move that had done it. It was losing his job.

  The reason he never used to run out of things to say was because he was always talking about work, the latest project, the latest build, the latest problem he had solved, swooping in and saving the day when others had failed. That had been his reputation in the firm, his identity—Rick Carpenter: troubleshooter; the guy who got it done no matter what.

  If Rick couldn’t talk about work, he didn’t know what to talk about. Certainly not himself. He’d fallen out of the habit a long time ago. And even if he remembered how it was done, nobody wanted or needed to hear all that. There’s nothing as boring as listening to somebody complain.

  What was it his mother always used to tell him? “If you have the time to complain about something, then you have the time to do something about it.”

  Now here he was, with nothing but time, and he couldn’t seem to do anything about anything. God, how disappointed she would have been in him. He was almost glad she wasn’t around to see it.

  That was the kind of thing he thought about these days. Nobody needed to hear it, especially McKenzie. Better just to shut up and eat.

  McKenzie slurped up a bunch of noodles and said, “So. How’re things with you and Mom? She started the new job today, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, giving a slow and knowing nod. “But I’m pretty sure you knew that. Kenz, is that why you invited me to lunch? Because you’re worried that I won’t know what to do with myself for a whole eight hours while your mother’s out of the house?”

  McKenzie swallowed her noodles but didn’t say anything, just arched her eyebrows and looked at him.

  “Kitten, I’m fine. Really. I’ve got plenty to do.”

  “Good. Like what?”

  “Well, like having lunch with you for one thing.”

  “What about two things? What are you doing after this?”

  Rick took a bite of mango chicken, chewing slowly to give himself time to think of a response.

  “Thought I’d go look for some new pants,” he said. “All of my old ones are too tight. Which reminds me . . .” Rick reached under his chair, pulled out a paper sack, and handed it across the table. McKenzie opened the top of the bag and sniffed.

  “Rosemary olive loaf? Are you that upset about Mom taking this job?”

  Rick shook his head and let out a disbelieving chuckle.

  “Wow. You’re as bad as your mother. Listen, for your information, I don’t bake olive bread because I’m sad, or depressed, or trying to make the best of a bad situation. I make it because I like it. And I made it this morning because, with Mom out of the house, it seemed like a good time. She hates the smell of it.”

  “But, Daddy—”

  “Hey,” he said, reaching across the table, “if you don’t want it, I’ll take it back, okay?”

  McKenzie smiled and hugged the bag to her chest.

  “I’ll take it home to Zach. Maybe. Unless I break down and make it my midafternoon snack. Smells so good. I can’t believe Mom doesn’t like rosemary.”

  “Neither can I. But your mother has always been a hard woman to figure out.”

  McKenzie tipped her head to one side. “So. You two okay? I know you’ve been upset about her going to work.”

  “Not true,” Rick said, pointing a correcting index finger toward McKenzie. “I’m not upset about her working. If she wants to work, fine. She can. She doesn’t need to. Now that we’re in the condo everything’s fine. But if she wants to work . . .” He shrugged, feeling a little silly for having snapped, and took a bite of his food. “I just don’t like her working in a prison, that’s all. Why would I? I don’t think it’s safe.”

  “Where is safe these days?” McKenzie asked, surprising Rick. He couldn’t recall her ever coming to Hope’s defense before. “You didn’t have a problem with her working in a public high school. If you think about it, prison might actually be safer. I’m sure they’ve got . . .”

  McKenzie rested her fork on the side of her plate and cast her eyes around the room, searching for a word. “. . . you know, procedures and stuff. Besides, Mom’s smart. She knows how to look out for herself.”

  Rick shook his head. “Your mother is entirely too trusting. And she gets way too involved. First it was the kids in the neighborhood, then her students at the high school. Gets herself so worked up over a bunch of strangers that she doesn’t have time or energy left for her family.”

  He stabbed a chunk of mango with his fork and put it in his mouth, then looked up and saw McKenzie staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

  “What? You don’t agree?”

  “Well,” she said slowly, her forehead creasing into a frown, “I did until now. But hearing you actually say it out loud makes me realize I was being kind of a jerk about it.”

  Rick didn’t really know what to say to that, so he scooped some rice on his plate, prepared to endure another awkward silence. But McKenzie had more on her mind.

  “Sorry, Daddy. I wasn’t saying that you were a jerk, just that I was. Trying to juggle job, house, and husband is making me appreciate Mom more. Honestly, I don’t know how she did it. I drop into bed exhausted every night, and I don’t even have kids yet.”

  At the mention of kids, Rick shifted his eyes from his plate to McKenzie’s face, hoping this might be the precursor to an announcement, but none was forthcoming. McKenzie was scraping her fork across her nearly clean plate, trying to corral enough noodles for one more bite.

  “I know you’re worried about her,” McKenzie said. “The prison and all. I get that. But you can’t blame her for wanting to do something important with her life, can you? Beyond raising her kids? I mean, you can understand that, right? People need a purpose.”

  Rick bobbed his head but didn’t say anything or make eye contact. McKenzie wiped her mouth with her napkin.

  “So, listen. Daddy. I heard about this job opening for an engineer with the planning department. It’s a temporary contract and only part-time, but I was thinking that—”

  Rick lifted his hand to stop her.

  “Thanks, Kenz. But no. I’m done.”

  “But, Daddy—”

  “No,” he said firmly. “I’m not going through all that, not again. Especially not for a part-time temp job. I’m retired. I’m happy. I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile to emphasize the point. “End of story.”

  “Okay,” McKenzie said, sounding a bit defeated. “I was just trying to help. I really think you should get out of the house more.”

  “I’m thinking of taking up golf.”

  “Really? That’s great!” McKenzie glanced at her phone. “Oh, shoot
. I’ve got to run.”

  She pushed back her chair and reached for her purse, but Rick waved her off.

  “I’ve got this.”

  “Oh, I don’t . . . You sure, Daddy?”

  Rick reached for his wallet. “Don’t worry about it. You need to get back to the office. If it makes you feel better, you can pay next time.”

  “Fair enough. Same time next week?” she asked, popping up from her chair. “Unless, of course, you’re out on the links.”

  “More likely stuck in a sand trap,” Rick said, getting to his feet and returning McKenzie’s squeeze.

  After she left, Rick paid the bill. When the waitress brought back his change, a man who’d been sitting nearby got up and walked over to his table.

  “Hey, I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your daughter. A friend of mine works at a pro shop. If you’re in the market for a set of clubs, I can give you his name. I’m sure he’d give you a nice discount.”

  “Thanks. But I don’t play.”

  The man frowned a little. “But you told your daughter you were thinking of taking up golf?”

  “Yeah,” Rick said, counting out a few dollars to leave for the waitress before putting the change back in his wallet. “I think about a lot of things. But that’s not the same as doing them, is it?”

  Chapter 12

  “David is gruff,” Nancy admitted to Hope a few minutes after the two of them left the superintendent’s office for a tour of the facility. “And bitter. Harbors an intense distrust of women.”

  “No kidding,” Hope said. “Why is that?”

  “I’ve never been able to get the whole story out of him. At least not yet,” Nancy said with a small smile. “But I think it has something to do with his mother. But then, when it comes to men it always does, doesn’t it? Some way or other?

  “Anyway, from what I can gather, his mother was involved in some sort of nefarious activity when he was young. She was arrested and convicted and David was shipped off to foster care.

  “Hard to know for sure, but I’m guessing that this is his way of punishing her,” Nancy said, sweeping out her hand, and they walked through the noisy dayroom, crowded with tables and women, including a petite girl with dark hair who Hope thought might be the same one she’d encountered at the guard station when she first arrived.