“You might have fooled a few of the do-gooder types around here into thinking you’ve changed, including that bleeding-heart chaplain, but not me. You’re just as worthless as you’ve ever been. I won’t have you ruining Talia’s life the way you ruined everything else. Look at you,” he snarled, looking her up and down. “Just as worthless as ever. You’ve had your chance. I won’t give you another, not with Talia.”
Mandy ducked her head and swiped her hand across her eyes.
In this room, this box inside a box, the inside of the inside, people saw her as intelligent, capable, worthy, and changed. Inside this room, that’s how she saw herself.
But if people on the outside couldn’t see that she was different from before, if they’d never even give her a chance to prove it, then what was the point? If there was no hope of redeeming her past mistakes, what was the point of trying? Or living?
Twin tears dripped onto the block Mandy held in her hands, leaving two dark splotches in the fabric, turning them from lavender to grape. Mandy felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up.
“You okay?”
Hope looked so pale, not like herself at all. She’d seemed fine at the beginning of class, but now Mandy could see her teacher was tired and weak. Mandy felt a twinge of guilt. Hope was only here because Mandy had begged her to come. Why had she done that? It wasn’t as if it would change anything. Her father would get his way: he always did. And she’d known Hope was sick. Although not this sick.
She looked awful. Mandy wiped her eyes and frowned at her teacher.
“You should go home.”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Hope bent down to inspect Mandy’s quilt block. “Let’s see what you—”
Hope stopped in mid-sentence and opened her mouth wide, as if she was gasping for air. Her hand, still resting on Mandy’s shoulder, started shaking. A moment later, her whole body started to shake. Hope clutched her hand to her chest.
Mandy let out a cry and sprang from her chair. Hope collapsed into her arms. Mandy looked across the room toward Kate, who was helping Linda.
“Kate! Kate, help!”
In an instant, the room was filled with exclamations of alarm and fear and a tight circle of bodies pressed in on Mandy and Hope, who was conscious but still gasping and seemed unable to speak, her eyes wide and frightened. Mandy heard Kate’s voice.
“Stand back! Let me through,” she demanded, and then, “Oh, my Lord.”
For a moment, the old woman looked almost as weak and white as the teacher, but she quickly came to herself.
“Linda! Pick up the phone and dial eight. Tell whoever picks up that it’s an emergency and we need an ambulance, right away. The rest of you, stand back and give her some air. Mandy, help me put her on the floor so we can cover her up with one of the quilts. We need to keep her warm until the ambulance gets here.”
She helped Kate lower Hope the rest of the way onto the floor and then covered her with a quilt, but as soon as the older woman took command Mandy felt numb, almost frozen. She couldn’t respond on her own or think for herself. Her whole being was consumed with the belief that Hope was dying and that it was her fault because everything she ever did was wrong and everything she ever touched got ruined.
Cindy and another guard were on the scene in less than five minutes and the EMTs were on the scene shortly after that. To Mandy, it seemed like time stood still.
The EMTs strapped Hope to the gurney. Kate turned toward Mandy.
“I called Rick. He’s on his way to the hospital. I’ll ride along in the ambulance and meet him there. I need you to take charge here and check in all the machines and equipment,” she said. “Can you do that?”
Mandy blinked. “Yes. Okay.”
“Make sure everything is accounted for and give Cindy the key when you’re done. I’ll call as soon as I know anything.”
Mandy bobbed her head.
Kate frowned. “Are you going to be all right? I can ask one of the others to handle the check-in if you’re not feeling up to it.”
“No. You go on to the hospital. I’ll handle things here. Really,” Mandy said, responding to the deepening doubt she read in Kate’s eyes. “I’m fine.”
And if she was or if she wasn’t, did it matter anymore? Did anything?
Chapter 36
Hope wasn’t quite asleep when she heard a tentative tap on the bedroom door. Opening her eyes, she saw Rick standing at the threshold, looking apologetic.
“David Hernandez is here. I can tell him to come back another time if you’re too tired.”
“No, that’s all right,” Hope said, sitting up. “I’ll put on a robe and be out in a couple of minutes.”
“He brought flowers,” Rick said.
“You’re kidding,” she said. Rick shook his head no. “Well. In that case, I’ll be out in thirty seconds.”
* * *
David was already sitting on the sofa, drinking coffee and eating a slice of Rick’s homemade pumpkin bread, when Hope came out of the bedroom. The bouquet David had brought, pink carnations and white daisies, was sitting on the coffee table.
“Thank you,” Hope said, nodding toward the flowers. “You’re very kind, but honestly, I’m embarrassed over all the fuss.”
“Sounds like you gave everybody quite a scare. They thought you were having a heart attack.”
“So did I,” admitted Hope.
“Do they know what caused it?”
Hope shook her head. “They kept me a couple of days and ran a bunch of tests. We don’t have the results yet, but I’m feeling much better.”
“Good,” David said, bobbing his head. “That’s good to hear.”
David fell silent, his head still bobbing, avoiding eye contact. Funny, Hope thought to herself, he always seemed so in control, one of those people who never had trouble speaking his mind. Not today. The silence between them was awkward enough that Hope was just about to tell him to spit it out when Rick came in from the kitchen, carrying a coffee mug.
“I thought you might want some tea,” he said. “It’s herbal.”
“The doctor wants me to lay off caffeine until we figure out what’s going on,” she explained to David before thanking Rick.
“Right,” Rick said after putting the tea down in front of his wife. “Well, looks like you two have things to talk about. Honey, I’m going to go down to the jobsite, just want to see how the foundation is looking. Will you be okay on your own? I won’t be gone more than an hour, hour and a half at most.”
“Honey,” Hope said with a small roll of her eyes. “You can stay for as long as you want. I’m fine.”
Rick bent down and gave her a peck on the lips. “See you in an hour,” he said, and headed out the door.
“He worries too much,” Hope said after Rick had left. “I’m feeling so much better. As soon as the doctor gives me the green light, I’ll be back at work.”
David finally made eye contact. The look on his face, the way he said her name, as if it was an apology, made Hope’s stomach sink. “Hope, I . . .”
Hope licked her lips. “Ah. So this isn’t a social call.”
“I wish it was,” he said, sounding utterly sincere. “All incoming and outgoing calls from inmates are recorded, so I know about the phone call between you and Mandy on Sunday. I’m sorry, Hope. I have to let you go.”
“David. David, come on. We talked for about three minutes.”
“Four,” he said. “And twenty-seven seconds.”
“Okay, four. Fine. It wasn’t like we were planning a breakout or jewel heist. She was overwrought, desperate, and sobbing. What was I supposed to do? Hang up on her?”
“What you were supposed to do was not accept the call to begin with. And you know that, Hope. I’ve told you before, every policy we put into place—”
“Is there for a good reason,” she said, finishing his sentence for him. “I know. And you’re right. It was a mistake. I was wrong and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again; I promise. Give me ano
ther chance.”
“I can’t.”
Hope felt her pulse beginning to rise. This time, however, it wasn’t the wild galloping that she had no control over but the anxious uptick that comes from realizing that something you truly care about is about to be taken from you and that you’re the one who caused it.
“David. Please. Please listen to me. I know I deserve whatever happens to me, but the inmates are the ones who’ll suffer, especially the women in the quilting program. They’ve been making such incredible progress. Not just on their sewing but in things that matter a whole lot more. They’re calmer and more confident. They’re able to focus and make their own choices. And they’re more responsible.”
David held up his hand. “Hope, you don’t need to convince me. The inmates in the quilting program have made huge strides. I’ve noticed it and so have the other staff members. Even Wayne has noticed. Just last week he told me that the inmates in the quilting program are the best in the facility.”
“See?” she said, throwing out her hands. “I know you’re a stickler for the rules, but if even cranky old Wayne sees a difference. . .
“Come on, David. Give me another chance.” David moved his head slowly from side to side. “At least let me come back for a couple of months. That’ll give you time to find a replacement and me time to help the women warm up to the idea of a new teacher.”
David looked at her. His gaze was clear and his voice was firm.
“Hope, I’m shutting down the program, permanently.”
“What? David, you can’t! Why? Why would you do that?”
David picked up his coffee mug, cupping it in his two hands, and sighed heavily.
“I don’t have a choice. Nita and Mandy got into an altercation in the bathroom and a fight broke out. There was a razor blade involved. Nita got cut on her hand, nothing very deep, thank God. Fortunately, Cindy heard some noise and broke things up pretty quickly. But it could have been a lot worse.
“Nita admits that she was the one who started it. There’s been some tension between them for a while now; I got between the two of them in the cafeteria a couple of weeks ago. According to Nita, she was giving Mandy a hard time, made a comment about Mandy’s father suing to remove her parental rights, saying it was a lucky thing for Mandy’s little girl that he was—”
David paused when Hope’s gasp interrupted his story, and then went on.
“You know what Nita’s like. She has a talent for knowing how to hit so it hurts. Anyway, according to Nita, Mandy lunged for her. They tussled around for a minute and then Nita says that Mandy pulled the razor on her. Mandy denies it, says that Nita was the one who pulled the blade, but . . .
“It was a round blade, Hope. Same kind as the ones you use in your sewing program.”
“And you think Mandy stole it?” Hope’s jaw went slack. “Never. She wouldn’t do that, David. Mandy is the most responsible, hardworking student in my class. No matter what was going on between her and Nita, Mandy would never do something like that, especially not when she’s so close to her release.”
“A week ago, I might have agreed with you. I sent Nita back to medium for a month. I just cut back on Mandy’s privileges and took back some of her good time, so she’ll be staying with us a little longer. That’s the best I could do. But”—he took in a breath and shook his head—“this thing with her father has hit Mandy hard. I listened to the phone call she made to you, Hope. She’s not the same person. You said it yourself; she’s distraught and desperate.
“She’s also the only one who had access to the cabinet where you keep those rotary blades,” he said. “When they were taking you to the hospital, Kate left her in charge. Cindy was supposed to keep an eye on the check-in process and do a pat-down when the women left the room, just like always. But things were pretty confused that day and those blades are thin and small, small enough to conceal. Obviously, she missed something.”
“No,” Hope stated definitively. “I don’t believe it. No matter how confused things were, there is no way that Mandy would take advantage of the situation just so she could settle a score with Nita.”
“I’m not saying she took the blade because she wanted to hurt Nita.” David rubbed his hands around his coffee mug, as if he were trying to warm them. “I think she had someone else in mind.”
Recalling Mandy’s phone call, the desperation in her voice, Hope felt her stomach clench.
“No,” she said slowly. “No. She wouldn’t do that. She’s got so much to live for, Talia. Talia means everything to her.”
“And now her father is trying to take Talia away.” David tilted his head to one side, letting his words sink in for a moment. “Mandy has a history of depression. We had her on suicide watch when she first got here.”
“That was years ago,” Hope protested.
David put the cup on the table and got to his feet. “I’m sorry, Hope. You’re fired. You’re a good teacher and the quilting program was a good idea. I wanted it to work as much as you did. But my first instincts were right; it’s too risky. The experiment is over, Hope. I’m shutting down the program.”
Chapter 37
Three days after Hope was released from the hospital, McKenzie came to visit, bearing an African violet in a terra-cotta pot and a plate of homemade cookies. Hope, glad for the distraction, invited McKenzie to sit down in the kitchen while she made a pot of tea.
“Wow. So he came over here specifically to fire you?” McKenzie moved her hand in front of her lips, as if she’d just realized that her mouth was full of cookie. “That’s got to hurt.”
“It does,” Hope admitted, pouring chamomile tea into McKenzie’s mug and then her own. “But I’m more sorry for the women than myself. It’s just so unfair.”
“Yeah, but . . .” McKenzie said slowly, as if she hated to disagree with her mother but couldn’t quite bring herself not to. “You can’t really blame him, can you? I mean, if students are smuggling razors out of class . . .”
“If,” Hope replied, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “I’m not convinced that’s what happened. Quilting class was the highlight of the week for these women. They wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the program, Mandy especially.”
“Well,” McKenzie said slowly, still proceeding with caution, “then where do you think the blade came from?”
“Not from any of my girls. I’m sure of it.”
Hope sighed and rubbed her forehead. She’d felt a dull ache behind her eyes all morning. Whether her headache was caused by the stress of losing her job or anxiety over the uncomfortable conversation she needed to have with McKenzie was impossible to say. Probably some of each.
“Anyway,” Hope sighed. “It’s done now.”
McKenzie sighed as well, signaling her sympathy.
“I’m really sorry, Mom. I know the quilting program meant a lot to you. I’m sure it meant a lot to the inmates too.” She laid a hand on the shelf of her pregnant stomach. “But, on the upside, maybe it’s good you have some time to recover?”
Just then the baby kicked, so hard that McKenzie’s hand bounced. McKenzie laughed and then looked up at her mother.
“Did you see that? I swear she’s doing kickboxing in there. She was doing the same thing all during our last birthing class at the hospital. I was lying down and Zach was pretending to time the contractions. All of a sudden the baby did a complete somersault! My stomach was rippling like a waterbed that somebody was bouncing on. You should have seen Zach’s face. He looked like he thought an alien was going to come popping out of me any second.” She laughed.
“You’d better rest while you can, Mom. Because once your granddaughter makes her appearance, I think it’ll take every ounce of energy you’ve got just to keep up with her.”
The throbbing behind Hope’s eyes spread to her temples. She swallowed her tea and took a breath.
“McKenzie. Honey, there’s something we need to—”
“Well, I’m off!”
Ric
k bounded into the kitchen, wearing jeans, a red and white flannel shirt, a brand-new pair of work boots, and a grin. He grabbed three cookies from the paper plate that was sitting on the kitchen table between Hope and McKenzie.
“Big day. Need to keep up my strength.” He winked and took a bite of cookie. “Kenz, did you make these? They’re fantastic!”
“What can I say, Dad? I learned from the best.”
“Chip off the old block.”
Rick bent down to kiss McKenzie’s head before looking up at Hope.
“It’s only a half day today. Ben’s just going to show me the ropes. I should be back by one. You’ll be all right until then?”
“Yes,” Hope said wearily. “I’ll be fine.”
The news that Rick had gotten the job as a part-time construction coordinator for Many Hands Housing could not have come at a better time. His concern over her health was touching but tiring. He asked how she was about every five minutes.
His first real day on the job wouldn’t be until the following week. And though he was already a different man than he’d been during those dark days of depression, it seemed to Hope that he’d suddenly found another gear. He was like a kid again, bursting with energy and enthusiasm, chomping at the bit to get back to work. The salary was less than a quarter of what Rick had earned in the past, not surprising for a three-day-a-week job at a nonprofit organization, but Hope knew Rick would give the job his all and then some. She was proud of him.
“Did you take your pills?” he asked.
Hope picked up the prescription bottle from the table and gave it a little shake.
“Don’t forget the ones at lunch. I’ll keep my phone on. Call if you need me.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Rick grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. “You going to stick around for a while?” Rick asked McKenzie, who bobbed her head. “Keep an eye on your mother. Don’t let her overdo it.”
Hope on the Inside Page 26
