Inevitable Sentences

by Tekla Dennison Miller

  “Look, I know you’re trying to help, but this is …” Priscilla hesitated. “This is something only I can handle.” She bit down so hard on the cookie her teeth clicked. She vigorously chewed and then gulped her tea.

  Celeste studied every action. Whatever was troubling Priscilla had to be crushing. She’d never seen this side of her before. “Is it your husband?”

  “Ex-husband,” Priscilla spat. “No.” She pushed the plate of cookies at Celeste.

  Celeste reached out to stop the plate from tumbling to the floor and slid it back to the center of the table. She had never been certain whether Priscilla had actually divorced Dwayne. Priscilla rarely discussed her past with anyone, including Celeste. Maybe one day she would feel comfortable enough to let it all out.

  Priscilla abruptly stood, causing her chair to teeter for a few seconds, making a clicking sound against the linoleum before righting itself. “Why can’t you drop it?”

  They were quiet for a while as they stared at each other. The unforgiving wind screamed up from the lake across the yard, slapped against the house, and then disappeared into the woods with a reverberating moan. Celeste stood, too, and walked around the table to Priscilla. She circled her arm around her friend’s waist. “It hurts me to see you so upset and distant. I’ve never seen you this way. I’m your friend and I want to help you.”

  Priscilla eased from Celeste’s embrace. Tears ran freely from her eyes. She turned her back and wiped her face with a tissue. “I don’t know how to make you understand,” she whispered. “You can’t help me. No one can. Not this time.”

  “Trust me. There is a solution to every problem. Even—”

  Priscilla swung around with such speed she nearly knocked Celeste backward. She leaned over to bring her face mere inches from Celeste’s. “Like you solved your problem with Marcus? You lost your daughter to a serial killer, remember?”

  “That’s not fair.” Celeste collapsed back onto her chair.

  Priscilla straightened and moved away. “You know as well as I do, life isn’t fair. Sometimes we have to make decisions that seem unclear to everyone else. Sometimes we screw up our lives so badly, there is no way out.” She grabbed her coat. “What would you know, dressed in your fancy clothes and doling out charity? Do you think that’s going to get rid of your own guilt?”

  “What have I done to deserve this?” Celeste’s voice quivered. “I only want to help those who need it.” She lowered her head and murmured, “Perhaps I do feel a little cleansed of fault in Pilar’s death when I do.” She raised her head and stared deeply into Priscilla’s eyes. “Is that wrong?” Was she using the women and their children to cover up her own weakness? Or did she use the lighthouse to prevent herself from facing decisions about her life and her future?

  “You know nothing of the real world. You’ve been coddled most of your life.” Priscilla’s voice grew as shrill as a witch’s and her face formed into the lines of an angry hag.

  Celeste believed Priscilla was trying to give her clues—whatever was causing her grief had to do with her past and her ex-husband, Dwayne. She only lashed out at her because of their closeness. At least Celeste prayed that was why Priscilla was acting uncommonly hateful toward her. This kind of breach had never occurred in their friendship. “Please,” Celeste begged. “Please tell me what I have done to hurt you.”

  Priscilla buttoned her coat. “Nothing. I’m …” She wound a scarf around her neck. “I’m sorry to tell you this; I won’t be able to help out for the next few days. Can you get Kip or Beth to fill in?”

  “Sure.” Celeste was even more concerned because Priscilla never missed both days on the weekend. Suddenly, fear washed into every pore. Had Dwayne escaped? Was Priscilla afraid he’d come after her? Nonsense. Wouldn’t she tell Celeste? It had to be even worse than that. What could it be? Celeste risked one last attempt to get to the bottom of the secrecy. “What are you so afraid of?”

  Priscilla’s face turned a deep red and her chest heaved in anger. “I’m”—breath—“not”—breath—“afraid.”

  “Then why are you running?” Or was she? Celeste asked herself. At that moment everything and nothing seemed plausible.

  “Why is everyone asking me that?” Priscilla reached for the doorknob. “I have no intention of going anywhere but here.”

  Celeste wanted to clarify what she’d meant—that Priscilla was running from herself and troubles, not away from the UP. Instead, Celeste kept it to herself, fearing more questions would only provoke Priscilla further. She placed a hand on Priscilla’s arm to stop her exit, but Priscilla pulled the door open. The motion forced Celeste’s hand to flop off and hit the jamb. The contact smarted, but not as much as the pain she observed in Priscilla’s eyes.

  “Leave me be.” Priscilla ran out the door and to her car. Gunning the engine, she sped away, tires spewing stones.

  Celeste stared at the taillights. Her legs went weak and she braced a hand against the door. Something told her she’d never see Priscilla again, at least not as her good friend. Although the knowledge seemed clear to her, she couldn’t explain why. Was this the predicted event that had been haunting her thoughts the past few days? The notion of losing Priscilla to whatever “problem” awaited her out in this stormy night was simply unthinkable. Celeste had already lost Pilar. Not another, she thought. Heaviness descended on her like a shroud.

  Chapter Ten

  UNPREDICTABLE

  ON SATURDAY, LIZZIE, FOLLOWING her usual routine, parked the food service truck outside the salleyport. She handed the gate officer an inventory of the products she was bringing from the off-grounds warehouse to the prison kitchen. While she waited for him to check the vehicle, she studied Hawk Haven Prison—a compound she really had paid little attention to, except for her everyday route from the warehouse, to the salleyport and onto the road to the kitchen.

  Today, Lizzie marveled at the sight she had ignored over the past six months. A tower loomed over the center of the red-brick main house, or administrative building. Castlelike turrets flanked each corner. The imposing structure reminded her of a Gothic castle from a fantasy or historic romance novel. She half-expected to see a shirtless, muscular, Greek-god-like male on a graceful white stallion rescuing a damsel in distress from the tower window. She snickered, even as she shivered at the thought of having to live forever behind those thick, impenetrable walls like her poor Chad. She found little romance in that.

  The whole building was incorporated into a thirty-foot-high concrete wall, an ominous perimeter protected by razor ribbon, electronic detection system, and eight gun towers. No one had gotten out of Hawk Haven in its one-hundred-year history, even though Chad had once tried. Most of the inmates knew they had no place to go once they escaped unless they had someone waiting. After all, the prison was in the middle of the Hiawatha National Forest in the Upper Peninsula between two Great Lakes.

  Lizzie and Chad intended to use the wilderness to their advantage. This time Chad would get out. Lizzie would make that certain. They’d be off to Mexico and never again have to face the bleak weather of a November like this, or the gloomy walls of a prison.

  Lizzie had to chuckle. She would be Chad’s knight, in a food service uniform riding in a cumbersome white truck, rather than on a stallion, to rescue him from his cell. Reality didn’t hold the charm of a fairy tale. Yet she had no reservations that the ending to their flight would be as happy.

  “All clear, ma’am,” the officer announced. “Hey, Chatfield wake up.”

  Lizzie cleared her mind of her reverie. “Sorry. I’m daydreaming of sunshine and beaches.” Should she have told him that? After all, once she and Chad were free, it would be a clue for the investigators who would search for them.

  “In this weather, who isn’t?” Clancy answered. He pulled a handheld radio from a pouch on his belt and notified the tower officer to open the gate.

  “Thanks. See ya on the way out, Clancy.” Lizzie waved. She shifted the truck into first, and waited
for the gate to slide open, which always seemed to take an eternity. It would seem even longer on Sunday night.

  Officer Clancy was more thorough than most. The good news was that he’d be off tomorrow. That was why she’d chosen Sunday as the day for the break. The other gate officer was usually more lax. There would be less traffic through the salleyport—usually only the food service personnel in the truck. Also, everyone knew most prisoners were in the visiting room and not on grounds. The administrative offices were closed. Nothing would be happening from that end. Even though Eagle, the duty deputy, would be here, he’d be more interested in visits. No one would suspect problems on grounds, especially in the kitchen. The deputy warden and officers were more concerned about the possibility of a fight in the visiting room or drugs being transported by someone’s girlfriend. What’s more, everyone except the truly hearty stayed inside unless it was absolutely necessary to venture onto grounds because it was nearly dark and freezing-ass cold by 4:30. Ah. Lizzie preened. She and Chad had been smart enough to use all that to their advantage.

  On Sunday Lizzie usually did double-duty. She would make two runs inside rather than her regular one. The first run would be with the nonperishable items and the second with the refrigerator truck, the one in which Chad would escape.

  Lizzie maneuvered the truck through the gate and drove toward the kitchen as she had every workday for the past six months. The few prisoners who dared to face the cold and go to the yard caught Lizzie’s attention. Their uniforms created a wall of navy blue as they huddled near the fence in small groups. Their jacket collars were pulled to their ears where blue knit caps were snug against their heads to protect them from the wind, which was approaching gale force. From where Lizzie drove, she could never tell one man from another. Even Chad would be lost in that blue maze.

  While the inmates talked and smoked, two officers circulated among them. The officers also hunkered into their black winter jackets and hats to stay warm. Their eyes were barely visible above their collars, and their breath curled from their mouths like steam. The officers stamped their feet and rubbed their gloved hands together as they meandered among the inmates, seeming more intent on staying warm than watching for unusual activity. The storm predicted for tomorrow would give the officers, including those at the salleyport, even more reason to be intent on staying warm, rather than being curious about the food service truck.

  Other inmates jogged or walked in twos along the fence. Their breath spiraled into the air like smoke. Lizzie could almost hear their heavy exhalations. Each inmate made sure he didn’t get close enough to the fence to set off the alarm or attract the gun tower officers who were armed with automatic rifles. She glanced at the nearby tower sentry. He was peering through highpowered binoculars at the yard below. Lizzie knew that each tower officer kept an M16 automatic rifle within easy reach, in case he had to break up a brawl or stop a prisoner from scaling the fence. She worried most about the officer in the salleyport gun tower. He had a clear shot at whoever came and went through that portal. She’d have to be absolutely sure not to attract any unwanted attention from him tomorrow.

  On the horizon the heavy metal sky seemed to press down on the yard and its occupants. The dark clouds building over the lake held the promised storm and forecasted the ominous day ahead. It was a scene that would play out many times until the first tulip bloomed in spring, and one she was happy not to have to face. “It’s too depressing,” she said aloud to herself. She gunned the truck and headed for the kitchen. Her mood brightened when she thought about Chad. She could hardly wait to see him. Every minute they were apart felt like a year. Her heart already pounded at the thought of a stolen touch as they worked side by side.

  CHAD, CHARLIE, AND Lou, wearing clean, bright white kitchen uniforms, a stark contrast to the dreary day, were waiting for her on the loading dock at the rear of the kitchen. As soon as she backed the truck up to them, Charlie opened the doors. All three prisoners hopped inside and started removing the contents. They’d performed the task so many times no direction was needed. None of them spoke except to say “hello” to Lizzie.

  Lizzie thought Chad seemed on edge. When they were alone in the cargo area of the truck, she placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “You’re ignoring me.”

  He shrugged.

  “If we act any differently from normal, they”—she thumbed toward the kitchen—“will think something’s up. We can’t afford that, and you know it.”

  Chad turned to her, clearly exasperated. “I know, I know. I want this whole thing over so my mind can rest and—”

  Charlie jumped into the truck. “You got anythin’ else to cart in, Ms. Chatfield?”

  “Yeah.” She pointed to a stack of boxes. “Once those are unloaded, you’re finished out here. Then the fun begins.” She winked at Chad. “I could use a cigarette,” Lizzie said.

  “Who couldn’t?” Chad scowled. “You know the rules, though—Hawk Haven is smoke-free. You should have had one before you got here.”

  He reminded Lizzie of her father, always reprimanding her for not having gone to the bathroom before the family set out on a road trip. She knew Chad never smoked. His glaringly white teeth were evidence. She also knew he disliked her smoking. Oh, well. She’d quit when this was over. She wouldn’t need the crutch any longer. She’d have Chad, sunshine and endless beaches. She frowned. “I did have a couple. As our time gets closer, I’m so nervous I could—”

  Charlie came back. Chad hurriedly picked up a carton, and he and Charlie carried the last boxes inside, Lizzie following them to the kitchen. She sniffed the air, crinkling her nose awkwardly—her entire face joined in. She was overwhelmed by the smell of disinfectant, detergent, and cakes baking. “What’s with the cleaning?” she asked.

  Jones poked his head out from the storage area. “The warden’s stopping by to make sure we’re ready for our public health inspection on Monday.”

  “Now?” Lizzie shrieked. “It’s nearly three. He never works this late on a Saturday. Beside, he’s not even on duty this weekend. The deputy is.” The news of Stump’s unscheduled appearance unnerved Lizzie. Relax. She couldn’t let anyone see how upset she was. If they did notice, though, they’d probably relate it to inspection nerves. She started to breathe more easily.

  “He’s the Ghost, remember?” Chad dared to respond. His face creased into concerned lines.

  No playing touchy-feely with Chad today, Lizzie mourned. Too many eyes watched her every move. It didn’t matter. She was more alarmed by the unexpected visit. What about tomorrow? Would Stump make another surprise appearance? She and Chad hadn’t counted on this bump down the Yellow Brick Road to freedom.

  When Jones checked on Charlie and Lou, Lizzie followed Chad into the storage area. Chad suddenly turned to face her. “Stump better not screw up our plans for tomorrow. What if he wants to do extra cleaning or something?” His eyes were narrow and accusing.

  “You act like this is my fault,” Lizzie seethed. “I don’t like it any better than you. We need all the help we can get to pull this off. You needn’t worry about Stump, though. I doubt he’ll give up his Sunday. He may drop by today, but not Sunday. Church and everything, ya know. His wife, if she’s still around, wouldn’t like it.”

  Chad leaned into Lizzie and grabbed her hand. He squeezed it so hard she gasped. “What are you doing?” Lizzie’s words merged together. “That really hurts.” She winced when his hand tightened and he twisted her wrist.

  “You do have everything worked out with that Ph.D. friend of yours, right?” This man was nothing like the Chad she loved.

  “Of course.” Lizzie wheezed the words. “Let go.”

  Chad dropped her hand and it thumped against a crate. Lizzie flapped it several times to rid it of the sting, then rubbed it. Small wormlike welts had already appeared. An unusual meanness was etched in Chad’s face. Surely he was scared of the risk that lay ahead for them tomorrow, Lizzie thought. She was, too.

  Chad hoisted a carton of
f a shelf and walked to the storeroom exit. “Sorry,” he called out over his shoulder. His tone held more scorn than apology.

  “It’s okay,” Lizzie mumbled.

  “What’s okay?” Warden Stump stepped inside the storage area.

  Lizzie jumped. “Oh, Wilbanks dropped the box. I told him it was okay because there’s nothing breakable in it.” Had the warden heard anything else she and Chad had talked about? She studied Stump’s face for a clue. It held the usual blankness.

  Jones stepped inside behind Stump. “We need to check that everything is stored in its proper place and stacked on pallets, don’t we, Ms. Chatfield?”

  “Sure. We don’t want to get caught off a pallet,” Lizzie said with too much enthusiastic sarcasm.

  Jones and Stump laughed. The three walked to the prep and cooking areas, observing that everyone was dressed properly. Chad had even put on a hairnet without being told.

  “Good to see you have all your cleaning supplies stored in the appropriate place and well labeled,” Jones said to Lizzie as he beamed at the warden for approval.

  Stump was paying no attention. He was too busy ogling Lizzie.

  Your cleaning supplies? Lizzie asked herself. When had they become hers and not the prison’s? Didn’t Jones think he had anything to do with the kitchen he supervised? Tomorrow couldn’t arrive fast enough.

  Jones motioned to the warden and Lizzie to follow him into the chow hall. He pulled a thermometer from his breast pocket and checked the temperature of the macaroni and cheese stored in a heating tray waiting to be served in less than a half hour. He read it. “Good, good.” Jones rubbed his hands together as though he’d discovered something delicious. He turned to the warden. “I think we’re ready for the inspection. Everything’s spic ‘n’ span, don’t you agree?”