I realized how much I had been thinking about this particular inmate all day. Of course I was upset by Buck’s reaction and now my father’s. They made me feel as if I had done something wrong, something very wrong. I kept going back trying to uncover exactly what it was I said or may have done that would necessitate such strong reactions. So I had told him I was the pastor’s daughter. So what? Buck had been the one to actually say my name, not me. And my father, well, I thought I was just doing what he had wanted me to do. I had no idea he hadn’t known I was going down there, but I still felt bad about it nevertheless. Amongst all these thoughts that drifted through my head all day, Emry Logan was still right there in the midst of them all, the most centered thought.
I wondered why he was in jail. He was so young, younger than me for sure. The other prisoners actually looked like bad people to me. They had a rough look about them that screamed ‘I’m dangerous’ out to everyone who looked in their direction, but Emry Logan, he looked … perfect. He looked as if he could walk into the church with that orange jumpsuit on and nobody would even consider him dangerous at all. And he seemed so very sad. Was it a mistake that he was in there? It had to be, I decided. He looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly. I remembered seeing his slumped-over shoulders and how motionless he had sat in the chair. No wonder he was so distressed. He must have been framed. I started to become outraged at who exactly had done this terrible thing to him, who had made him so sad that he would have to sit there and feel such pain.
Wow. I sat straight up in bed. When was the last time I had ever thought about someone so intently? I couldn’t remember. I had never been fixated on someone like this before. I felt the lump return in my throat. I searched for an answer. It had to be because I was so stricken by his pain. I felt genuinely awful for him having to be locked behind those bars. And then in my mind, Emry Logan suddenly looked up at me and his blue eyes fixated on my own tiny brown eyes and remained there. I tried to remember the striking color as they lured me in.
Emry Logan. “Emry Logan,” I whispered, allowing myself to speak his name in the darkness. It sounded like music rolling off of my tongue.
“Goodnight, dear.” I realized at once my mother had my door cracked open and was peering in at me.
“Night!” I blurted out, immediately embarrassed and falling back down in the bed, my head indenting into the pillow.
Had she heard me say his name? I held my breath for a moment, listening to my heart. No, I decided. She hadn’t. It had barely been a whisper. My head was spinning from the emotions. I felt remorseful. I was being secretive. I usually told my family everything, but I couldn’t tell them I was thinking about one of the inmates that I had met today, well, sort of met. My mind jumped ahead to tomorrow morning, getting up and going to work in my mother’s antique store, and suddenly, I felt as if I didn’t really care. Work sounded boring. When had I ever really been bored with my life before? Never bored, always content, I thought. But there were other people out in the world, exciting people that fascinated me, like Emry Logan. I was absolutely intrigued but couldn’t quite put my finger on why. I wondered what he would be doing down in his jail cell at this exact moment. Would he be sleeping? Perhaps he was reading a book. Maybe he was sitting on that chair again, his mind drifting, his mood depressed and sad.
No, that’s no good. I immediately shook the thought from my head. He didn’t wear sad well. His kind of sad made me feel sad. He deserved to be happy. My eyes snapped back open and moved to the white ceiling above my head. My eyes traced around the outline of the stationary ceiling fan. What was the matter with me? I felt so alive. A funny feeling filled the pit of my stomach. I felt like such a child. This was absolutely silly. I’m a grown woman thinking of ways to help a criminal escape from a prison I didn’t believe he deserved to be in, but I didn’t know that for sure. It was exhilarating, this feeling. I smiled at the way I felt, then I shut my eyes tight, pulled the covers up over my head and forced my mind to be empty to try to get some sleep. Every time I tried, there stood Emry Logan again.
Chapter 2
The next few weeks seemed to drag on, especially since it rained almost every single day. I glared at the gray clouds hovering above my head and cursed them as I wished they would go away. The air was getting colder as winter approached and soon snow would cover all of Seneca. I wanted to enjoy the remains of autumn. It was my favorite season after all, the red and gold leaves. However, this nasty weather had made the leaves turn straight to brown and fall off the trees in a hurry. The wind continuously whipped them in spiral swirls on the ground.
It had been almost a month since my notorious jail visit. My parents hadn’t brought it up again. My memory of the morning had gone from front burner in my mind to back as I busied myself with Christmas choir practice, and business at the antique store had suddenly picked up. It had seemed so long ago, just a dull ache now.
On a Friday after a busy day at the store, Sammie decided to walk with me back to my house. She was a part-time hire who sometimes came in to do inventory when things got too hectic. She had bright green eyes and red, frizzy hair that was usually pulled back into a messy ponytail. It seemed as though she never stopped talking. She was a few years younger than me and only lived a couple houses down the street.
Days like these I forced myself to walk, even if it was getting chilly. Walking let me clear my head from the day, unwind, and I knew there were only a few precious days left for walking before winter really set in full swing. However, with Sammie by my side, it was difficult for my head to clear properly with her jabbing away in my ear.
“And then I didn’t know what to say, you know?” Sammie paused to look at me, to make sure I was listening, which I only partially was.
“So what are you going to do?” I asked, trying to pretend as if I cared. I truly just wanted to be by myself right now and not try to keep up with Sammie’s drama. She sighed as if this were so terrible. Two men. She had two men chasing after her. Dreadful. “I just don’t know. I’ve been with Tim for three years. Three years is a long time. But then, on the other hand, Dave is so cute. And he’s different from Tim, too, you know?”
No, I didn’t know. I didn’t even know what it was like to have one guy chasing after me. Guys weren’t exactly drawn to someone like me. My background was intimating, first of all, and then there was my appearance. I rarely stopped to look in the mirror before I left in the morning.
“I sure hope I can figure this out soon before I lose them both. That’s what they say, you know. You have two men and then suddenly both of them go and you’re left all alone. I couldn’t imagine what that would be like.”
I gave her a hard stare. She was talking to me about being alone. I had never really felt alone living with my family, but recently something had changed in that regard. There was this strange sense of loneliness wearing on my every move. That’s probably the reason for my being in such a sour mood lately, I supposed. And then there was this weather, this dark gloom creeping in all around me, suffocating me, and then the clouds lurked overhead, adding to my misery. I threw my hood up, put my head down and picked up my steps so that I was almost jogging down the street and away from her.
“See you later, Anna!” I heard Sammie call out from behind me. I was sure by the tone of her voice that she was frantically waving her arm up and down at me. Once I saw my brightly lit house directly in front of me, I slowed my pace. Sammie was long gone. The curtains were tied back in the living room, and I could see Matthew propped up in front of the TV and my mother walking around the room, her lips moving slowly. More than likely she was singing.
I stepped in a puddle of mud as I reached the door of the mailbox. I moaned, my frustration growing. I felt the cold, murky water seeping in through my shoe and drenching my sock. Just great, I thought. I grabbed the mail and rushed up the sidewalk to the front door.
“Anna!” Matthew greeted me.
“Hey,” I said, bending over to take off the wet shoe.
“What now?” my mother asked, stopping her pacing to watch what I was doing.
I grunted in annoyance. “Oh, I stepped in a mud puddle getting the mail.”
She continued to watch me struggle to get my foot out of it. “Here, I’ll take the mail,” she offered, stretching out her hand.
I quickly hopped into the kitchen on one foot and tossed the mail onto the counter. I went to turn to go toward the stairs to go to my room to change out of my clothes, when my eyes caught sight of my name on a small off-white envelope.
Ms Anna James, 305 Walker Lane. Then I glanced at the return address. Seneca County Prison. I felt my heart skip a beat as I quickly snatched up the letter and put it under my arm before darting up the stairs.
I turned the small gold lamp on that sat on my nightstand beside my bed and sat down. I stared at the envelope in my hand for a moment. What on earth could this be? I tried to get my breathing under control as I quickly tore at the top of the envelope to get it open. A small piece of notebook paper was inside. I unfolded it and my eyes scanned the words.
Dear Anna, My name is Emry Logan. I don’t know if you’ll remember me or not, but I was one of the men you gave your father’s pamphlets to at the jail a little while ago. I hope I’m not being inappropriate by writing to you this way. I have read over the pamphlet and have a few questions. I was hoping you could come see me to discuss these things. I completely understand if you cannot and want to stay away from me, but I believe that you may be the only one who can help save me.
Hope to see you soon.
E.L.
I sat there on the edge of my bed feeling suddenly short of breath. My head was spinning. Emry Logan had written to me. He wanted to see me. A sudden gush of panic grabbed hold as the realization set in. Buck had been right. I had said too much. From just a little information, he had enough to track me down. How in the world did he get hold of my home address? He was trying to find out more about me. He was trying to lure me in. Why? For what reason? He was a hunter, and I, his prey. He was dangerous. He sat in that prison for a reason.
Ugh! I wanted to scream. My life had been so uncomplicated, and now it seemed as if everything was going to change, and I was the one to blame. I should have acted the same with him as I had with every other inmate. Why did he have to look so sad? Why did my emotions have to take control of my head? I felt so naive.
I stood up. That’s it. I knew what I had to do. I had to take this letter downstairs and tell my mother what had actually happened at the jail. I had to show her that Emry Logan, I mean an inmate, had written me a letter. He was thinking about me, stalking me. She would call my father and he would come home right away, rush to be by my side, and between the both of them, they would know what to do. Maybe Buck could help them find a way to stop this man before things got even more out of control.
I was halfway down the stairs, the letter in hand, before I began to scold myself. Turning around, I ran back up to my room and read the letter again. I thought I heard my mother’s footsteps on the staircase shortly thereafter and quickly folded the letter in half and tucked it safely away in the first book that I picked up off my bookshelf.
You are so ridiculous, I thought to myself. Emry Logan wasn’t dangerous. Didn’t I remember his eyes? Remember his eyes, I commanded myself. The face. His composure. Just a few weeks ago I had sat here and talked myself into what the real reason was that he was in prison. Of course. He was an innocent man who had been unjustly wronged. He didn’t do anything--could not have done anything. Innocence was written all over his face. His sadness had pierced my heart, had filled me as if I felt it too. I wanted to free him of his pain. He didn’t look like he deserved to be in there. The other men, yes, they looked like they should be there. But not Emry. I refused to believe it.
I sighed and buried my face in my hands. What was I going to do now? He wanted to see me. He wanted my help. He thought I was the only one who could save him. Save him from what? Himself? Hell? And why would he want me over my father the pastor? He would know exactly what to do and say. If he wanted help with knowing God, that is. But if he meant from himself, maybe he thought of me instead. But why? How could I help him sort through his past? I had no experience with anything remotely bad. I was not one who could properly counsel someone. Maybe he thought he would be more comfortable with me than my father. My father could be intimating at times, I supposed. He could get a very serious look on his face that could be misunderstood as intimidating from outsiders who didn’t know him.
My parents definitely weren’t going to approve of this. Shame washed over me. I had never been sneaky or secretive in my life. This I could not tell them. They wouldn’t let me go, and I felt now like I needed to go. I needed to see what he had to say and more even, what I had to say back. Maybe I wouldn’t have anything to say, but I had to go and see. I felt the impulse from the bottom of my stomach, a spark that jumpstarted me to life and could cast all of these gloomy storm clouds away. I felt that alive feeling again, and I didn’t want it to go away. I suddenly felt very selfish.
If Emry Logan was dangerous, I would march right up to him and see exactly what the danger was. I couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing why he was in there or what he wanted from me. He couldn’t hurt me. Look where he was and look where I sat. I was free, and he certainly was not. That should be enough reassurance to know that I was not putting myself in harm’s way by simply talking to a man behind bars.
And then I began to plot in my mind how I was going to betray my family’s trust. I already knew for certain what my parents would think about all of this if they had actually known about it. They would be 100% against it. I could already tell that after my mother sent me down there, I was pretty much banned from stepping foot inside that building again. It was clear how abrupt the conversation had ended and how angry my father had been at my visiting to the jail. I could not let anything slip or anyone know what I was doing or else it would all be ruined. My little feeling of being driven to want to do something for the first time in my entire life would be ripped away if I couldn’t hold it together in front of them. I had to dig up all the deceitfulness from within myself and put on a good face for my parents. They couldn’t know any different. It would hurt them too much, and it would steal away what little bliss I was feeling at this very moment of desiring the unknown. I wasn’t asking for too much. I just wanted to know someone outside of my sheltered box, someone different, someone interesting.
Confusion of what was going to happen filled the pit of my stomach, and I liked it. It was decided. I was going to go see Emry Logan the first chance I got.
I stood up and looked at my face in the mirror and grinned. Then I wiped the smile away as quickly as it had come and took off down the stairs to help my mother prepare dinner. My scheming had to wait for a few days. I carefully planned it out at the store when my mother would leave to make her rounds to all of the widows of the church with lunch, which she did once a month. I peeked outside the antique store window as she and a few other women loaded up the back of a suburban with boxes of Styrofoam bowls full of piping hot vegetable soup and others with salad. These days the store was left in my hands. I knew that Sammie would also be working on this particular day. She was checking inventory in the back and would appear periodically at the front of the store with items that needed to be replaced. She would say something to me every now and then, but I just kind of mumbled a response. My mind was far away, just a few miles, actually, down at the jail where I soon knew I would be.
“Sammie?”
“Huh?” She looked up, her red pouffy hair bouncing as she did so.
“I have an errand to run. I shouldn’t be too long.” I knew exactly when visiting hours were at Seneca County Prison. I had checked into it and double checked before I left the house this morning. “You can manage for a little while, right?”
Sammie’s smile beamed as if I had just entrusted her with my life or something. It made me want to laugh out loud, but
I contained myself.
“Of course I can,” she squealed.
I doubted there would be many customers, if any, this afternoon anyway. A few snowflakes flittered down from the dark sky, and the wind started to pick up. It was the beginning of winter, and most people would be staying inside their warm houses all nice and cozy, not wanting to venture out to go antique shopping.
I gave her a quick smile and reached for my coat. I felt the weight of it in my hand as I had just pulled it from the closet this morning. It was my heavier coat, thickly insulated to protect me from the winds that so notoriously whipped around Seneca during the winter months. I could feel the chill settling in this morning and was glad that I had decided to bring it along. I glanced at my watch. Fifteen minutes until visiting hours began, plenty of time to make it down to the other side of town.
When I reached my car, I realized that a customer had just gotten out of their car and was headed up the steps of the store. Great, I thought. I should go back in there and deal with it, but instead, I didn’t. I couldn’t waste a minute. Sammie could handle it.
The drive down to the jail seemed to take forever. The anticipation of getting there was awful. My mind swirled with all sorts of things. How exactly was this going to work? Buck wouldn’t be there, I knew that at least. This was his day off. But who would be working the front desk? What if they recognized who I was? They would send me away immediately and probably tell my parents that I had been there. What excuse would I give my mom and dad? But a more important question was pressing upon me. How could I bear being forced out of the jail without first speaking to Emry Logan? An uncomfortable fluttering filled my stomach as I started to feel physically sick.
Strange in Skin Page 2
