With Love from the Inside

by Angela Pisel

“WHAT’S SHE LIKE?” Sophie asked Thomas after the night-shift nurse left the room.

  Thomas had already stretched out on the empty bed closest to the window. His back was turned to her, and she thought he might be asleep.

  “Your mom?” he asked. He sat up and pushed back the peach-striped curtain that semi-divided the room.

  “Does she hate me?”

  Thomas swung his legs around and sat on the side of the bed. He straightened the bedsheets before answering. “No, she doesn’t hate anything about you.”

  Sophie picked at the lint balls on her blanket. “After my dad died, I was all alone. Our church brought me food for a while, but no one knew what to say to the poor orphaned girl whose mom was on death row.”

  Thomas didn’t say anything.

  “When I left for college, I realized no one knew me, knew my story. I could be anyone I wanted. Before I knew it, I’d become someone else.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” The word me shot right across the room.

  “I wanted you to accept me. I loved you from the first moment you walked into Starbucks. You knew where you were going, what you wanted. I didn’t. I drifted into your life by accident, and it was by pure luck you decided to love me.”

  He stood up and walked over to her bed. He pulled the covers down and slid in beside her. “You drifted into my life because you were supposed to.” The tenseness in his posture had started to fade. “There was nothing accidental about it. I looked in the window and watched you make dozens of lattes before I had the nerve to ask you out.”

  Sophie rolled over and laid her head on his chest. “You watched me? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “I guess there’s a lot of things we didn’t tell each other.”

  She wrapped her arm around him. When she finally let go she asked him, “How’d you find out about my mom?”

  “It took some work. I didn’t understand why you left. Nothing made sense. At first I thought maybe you didn’t believe me about Eva, then I thought maybe you were disappointed in me about the whole malpractice thing. I called Carter to talk it through. He did a background search and found some information.”

  “So Carter knows?”

  “My whole family does.”

  Sophie adjusted the neck of her hospital gown to make sure it was covering her. “I suppose that went over well.”

  “I don’t know how well it went over.” He rolled over so he was facing her. “It doesn’t matter.” He pulled her hospital gown up and put his hand on her bare stomach. “All that matters to me is you and this little baby.”

  —

  “NO,” SOPHIE CRIED OUT. “Stop. You’re hurting her!”

  Thomas jiggled her shoulder. “Wake up.” He put a wet washcloth over her sweaty hair. “Everything’s okay. You’re having a bad dream.”

  Sophie opened her eyes, glad to be out of her nightmare, then realized she wasn’t.

  “All these years,” she blurted, “I blamed my mother for something she didn’t do.” She took the washcloth off her head and threw it across the room. “Her baby died. My little brother. People in my small town hated her. Called her all kinds of horrible names.”

  She buried her face in her blanket.

  “You need to calm down.” Thomas gently scratched the side of her arm. “For our baby.”

  “I scoured the court records looking for anything to prove my mom didn’t poison William, but all the evidence said that she did.” She pulled the blanket away from her face. “I was with her when she bought windshield-wiper fluid.”

  Thomas hesitated. “You had no way of knowing.”

  “How will she ever forgive me?”

  He put his index finger on the dimple under her lip. “She already has.”

  Sophie looked out the door and saw Ben pacing the hallway. “Would you please come in and sit down?” Sophie yelled to him. “Tell him to get in here.”

  Thomas shut off ESPN and stepped out into the hallway. By this time, Ben felt like family. Thomas told her how a worried Ben stayed by her side in the emergency room until he could get there and arrange to have her transferred to Duke. “He cares about your mom and about you,” Thomas told her. Ben had explained to him the need for the genetic testing before Sophie had the chance.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she said to Ben when he appeared in the doorway. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “What’s wrong with me?” He waved his arm at the IVs still attached to Sophie’s arm.

  “What’s your gut telling you?” she asked him.

  “My gut’s telling me the geneticist is going to tell us exactly what we already know.”

  “My mom’s innocent?” Sophie looked at Ben and then Thomas for confirmation.

  Ben was heading for the hallway to pace again when Dr. Blakely, the geneticist, met him at the door. “We have the results of your test.”

  Thomas held out his hand. “Thanks for rushing these.”

  Sophie raised the head of her bed while Thomas and Ben stood on either side of the doctor. He laid out the lab sheets on the overbed table.

  “This metabolic disorder is mapped to a mutation in the gene.” He pointed to a number value on the paper. “This is your wife’s sample.”

  Thomas picked up the paper and examined it more closely. “She has the carrier mutation.”

  “So that means her parents had to be carriers, too, right?” Ben said with cautious excitement.

  “Sure does,” Dr. Blakely replied.

  “What about my baby?” Sophie couldn’t celebrate until she was sure her baby would be okay.

  “That’s some more good news. Thomas has two normal genes. Your baby will not be affected.”

  After the doctor left, and Sophie gave Ben a long and overdue hug, he gathered his coat and packed up his briefcase. “We have the evidence. Now we need to pray someone will listen to it.”

  GRACE

  A metabolic disorder. William died of a metabolic disorder.

  I’m trying to process all of this, but I don’t understand.

  Ben’s roller-coaster visit confused me. One minute I’m feeling elated and hopeful, the next vindicated but disgusted. Why couldn’t anyone save my baby?

  Ben told me you were here. YOU WERE HERE! That news makes me jump up and down. Thanks for coming back to me!

  The tiny lines on the corners of Ben’s eyes pointed upward when he told me the news. “Sophie and I came to visit you on Christmas Day.” His presence felt lighter than it had the last time I saw him.

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t see you.”

  “Sophie and I came.”

  “Soph . . . Sophie was here?” I, on the other hand, stuttered. My spine cracked against the back of the metal chair. I felt like I might topple over.

  “That’s what I tried to tell you when you called. I found Sophie.”

  “You found Sophie, and her husband found me?”

  “Something like that.” Ben shrugged in disbelief. “She came to see me because she had some information.”

  “Information? What in the world are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about your husband and your daughter. They may have saved your life.” He talked fast, but paused long enough to emphasize the word may. “Remember you told me Paul kept working on your case after you were convicted?”

  I nodded. “That’s all he did when he wasn’t working or taking care of Sophie.”

  “Sophie came to visit me on Christmas Eve. We visited your old house and dug through his paperwork. To make a long story short, we talked to Dr. Robinson. The person Paul hired to test the baby bottle.”

  “Test the baby bottle?” I took a quick look around the room to make sure the officer wasn’t going to cut our time short. “Who did what?”

  “I had no idea, either, but we found his
name.”

  “How’d you find his name?” I tried to scratch my forehead, but the chain holding my wrist to my waist was too short.

  “We’ll fill you in on that later.” Ben stared at the clock on the wall. “The point is, the tests were negative. No windshield-wiper fluid.”

  “I know.”

  “Sorry,” Ben said. He reached across the table to touch my hands, but they were in my lap.

  “Wrap it up,” the officer notified. He held up his spread hand to indicate we had five more minutes.

  “Why am I just now hearing this?” Was I missing something?

  “Paul died and he never received those results. He didn’t tell you because he didn’t know.”

  Paul knew. He always knew. He didn’t need a lab to tell him I didn’t kill William.

  “That’s not the best part. Dr. Robinson thinks William died of a metabolic disorder.”

  “A metabolic disorder?”

  “Some type of metabolic acidemia.”

  “Is that why he threw up? Is that why he wouldn’t wake up?” I felt sad and relieved at the same time. “His pediatrician? Why didn’t he know?”

  “It’s rare. They didn’t know much about it when William was an infant.”

  I tried to take hold of what he was telling me. “What does this mean?” Would it change anything?

  “It means we have a genetic test providing evidence that you didn’t kill William.”

  “From a baby bottle?”

  “No. From your daughter. Sophie is a carrier for the same disease.”

  “She is?”

  He might as well have been speaking in Japanese, but at least it sounded like good news. “Will she be okay?”

  I couldn’t stand it if you were sick.

  “She’s fine. Her—” He stopped. I could tell he wasn’t telling me everything.

  “Grace, this is all good news. I’m just sorry it took so long to discover.”

  “Me, too.” I knew it wasn’t his fault. And I didn’t know who to blame.

  “I have a lot of work to do. The only hope we have left is executive clemency.”

  “The governor?” My newfound hope started to sink. “Is that even a possibility?”

  “I hope so. We’ve exhausted all our appeals. We’re throwing a big Hail Mary.”

  Ben crossed his fingers and placed them over his heart. I closed my eyes and prayed.

  When I opened my eyes, he said, “Your daughter is lovely.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “She’s a phenomenal young woman. We waited to see you. When we finally got to the window, the officer wouldn’t let her through.”

  “Because of Thomas?”

  Ben nodded. “She had to leave town. How about setting up a phone call?”

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  “I didn’t think so.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a yellow piece of paper. Typed beside Sophie’s name was her telephone number.

  SOPHIE

  Sophie’s phone buzzed all day with texts about the Secret Chef fund-raiser. Eva, Mindy, then Kate. Then two more from Eva. I need to talk to u.

  Since she’d gotten home from the hospital, Thomas had done nothing but wait on her. He’d even learned to cook. She heard him on the phone with his mother: “So how long do I stir the flour to make the roux?”

  After eight days, he finally returned to work.

  “Promise me you’ll stay off your feet.” He kissed her on the head and pulled out the ottoman for her to put her legs on.

  “I promise,” she said. “I can talk on the phone from my chair.”

  No one in West Lake knew about Sophie’s mom, but it was all she thought about. She begged her doctor to let her off bed rest (“I have this big fund-raising event I’m in charge of!”), but Dr. Johnson wouldn’t budge.

  “Not until your blood pressure stabilizes.” She’d taken over her records from Jack when she returned from the holidays. Sophie would eventually have to confide in Dr. Johnson, but then Dr. Johnson might “confide” in Jack. She’d tell the world about her mother, but she needed to come to terms with everything herself first.

  Can u come over? Sophie texted Mindy. She hadn’t told her about the baby and needed to share some good news. Eva’s texts, she ignored.

  Mindy arrived with Starbucks and two cherry-frosted cupcakes from her twins’ birthday party.

  “Can’t believe how big they’re getting.” Mindy handed the one with the most icing to Sophie. “You need this more than me.”

  Sophie stuck her finger in the icing. “Delicious. I’ll have to pass on the coffee, though. No caffeine. Doctor’s orders.”

  “You’re pregnant!” Mindy shouted. “That explains your weird behavior!”

  “Part of it, anyway.” Sophie unwrapped the cupcake and took a bite. “I’m on bed rest. High blood pressure.”

  Mindy scrunched her nose. “Already?”

  “Already. I need to stay calm—if I’m good, I hope the doctor will let me get back to normal. Can’t have a successful fund-raiser while I’m sitting on my ever-expanding bottom.”

  Mindy laughed and then stopped. “Are you happy about the baby?”

  “Of course I’m happy about the baby. Why wouldn’t I be?” It was a sassy rhetorical question Sophie immediately regretted the moment she asked it. Mindy was asking the kind of questions close friends ask each other when they care to know more.

  “Well . . .” Mindy paused.

  Sophie put down her cupcake and pressed her hands together, holding them close to her lips. “I’m sorry, Mindy.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t want the baby,” Mindy said while picking cupcake crumbs off Sophie’s ottoman. “It’s just weird, that you left and all, over Christmas.”

  Sophie grabbed Mindy’s hand so she’d stop with the crumbs. “It was weird,” she said, beating down all the boards and bricks she used to put up. “Sit back, because my story gets even stranger. I went to visit my mom.”

  GRACE

  To be honest, Ms. Liz didn’t have many words to make me feel better. She couldn’t give me any answers with certainty or make any promises that would take my fear away. There was just something about her, though, that made me feel safe. Recognized. Significant. Valued. With her, my feelings never felt judged, and my fears never felt minimized. And today I got to share with her a part of me she’s never seen before.

  “Exhilaration is what I’m feeling most of the time.” I fought the urge to hug her as I filled her in on the latest news. “I’m so full of joy, these walls, the noise—I barely notice.”

  Ms. Liz squinted like she didn’t fully recognize me. “Have you talked to her?”

  “Not yet. Ben gave me her number.” I ran the words over in my head. I HAVE MY DAUGHTER’S PHONE NUMBER. I actually pinched the top of my thighs to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. “I’ll call the second I’m allowed. The warden suspended my phone privileges until I get my execution paperwork filled out.”

  “What are you going to say to her?” Ms. Liz asked, biting down on her smile.

  I’ve thought about our first conversation so many times. What I’d say. What she’d say. I closed my eyes to relish the thought of that moment. Finally, I said, “I just want to hear her voice.”

  “And I’m sure she wants to hear yours.” Ms. Liz placed her hands close to her heart. “Have you talked to Ben?”

  “Not since he left last week.” I hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.

  “I’m sure he’s busy.”

  “They have to let me out. Don’t they?” My wide eyes pleaded with hers to say yes.

  “I’d think so,” Ms. Liz said. “How could they not?”

  “I’m sure Ben is doing everything he can as fast as he can.” I refuse to give up now. “Have you heard anything abo
ut Roni?”

  Ms. Liz straightened her skirt and then glanced around the room to see how close the nearest officer was. “You know I’m not supposed to tell you information about another inmate,” she whispered.

  I nodded, but encouraged her to continue.

  “She’s alive. She’s in intensive care, but she’s alive.”

  The officer on duty seemed engrossed in whatever paperwork he was doing, so Ms. Liz leaned in and carried on. “I couldn’t stand the thought of Carl Cooper not seeing Roni on Christmas. So I waited for him in the visitors’ area on Christmas Day. I told him what happened.”

  “Visit’s over,” the officer shouted before I could ask her any more questions.

  “I took him to meet his daughter,” Ms. Liz whispered, then winked. “Mr. Cooper finally got to meet Roni.”

  “Ms. Liz,” I said before the officer escorted me away, “if you see them again, will you tell them I’m sorry?”

  —

  WHEN I GOT BACK TO MY ROOM, I made myself sit down. I thanked God for Roni and the time she got to spend with her dad. I prayed they’d have many more visits and that Roni would finally feel what it was like to be loved.

  After I finished praying, I forced myself to fill out the warden’s papers. The task seemed much less daunting when I reminded myself I might be going home soon. I’d fill out anything if it meant I’d get to talk to Sophie.

  Ben had taken the application for executive clemency. “I want to make sure we dot our i’s and cross every t. We don’t want to give the governor any reason not to intervene.”

  I asked Ben to make sure I get buried in Brookfield, in our family plot—next to Paul and William. He promised he would.

  The only forms left for me to tackle were my execution witness list and the last meal. Ben took my will and hand-delivered it to the warden’s office.

  “Put my name down.” Ben tapped his index finger on the witness list before he left. “If this happens—I want to be there for you. Put Sophie’s and Thomas’s names down, too.”

  I adamantly shook my head. I didn’t fear dying, but I did fear Sophie watching me do so.