47

Adamsville State Penitentiary

When Thomas pulled up to the guardhouse at the end of the day, the officer was busy with another car and driver. He turned to Thomas and shook his head as if in apology. “Tried to see if I could get him to leave, Chaplain. Couldn’t shake him.”

The man approached. “You Reverend Thomas Carey?”

“I am.”

“Little mail for you,” the man said, handing Thomas a large envelope. “Consider yourself served.”

“Served with what, for what?”

“Those answers, sir, are beyond the boundaries of my job description. Good day.”

Thomas considered leaving the envelope in his car and dealing with the contents in the office the next day. Whatever they were, Grace didn’t need to be burdened by them. But curiosity got the better of him, and Thomas removed the legal papers while the officer logged him out.

“Surely this is not the first time you’ve been served,” the officer said.

“Believe it or not, it is.”

“By an inmate, of course.”

Thomas nodded.

“Join the club.”

“You too?” Thomas said.

“Most all of us at one time or another. Get yourself a good attorney and try to keep the thing short.”

“Don’t worry.” An attorney?

Thomas couldn’t afford an attorney, and he hated to ask Ravinia. By the time he got home, he was distracted beyond reason, knowing he would have to at least tell her what was going on and seek her counsel. His thank-yous to the volunteer lady from the church were perfunctory. He would have to remember to be more effusive next time. He barely listened to her report, knowing that if anything had gone wrong or turned worse with Grace, the woman would have brought that to his attention first. Why did life have to be so complicated?

Thomas pasted on a smile and kissed Grace’s cheek.

“I need to sit up,” she said, gripping his arm as she slowly swung her legs off the side of the bed. She sighed heavily and slumped. “Feels better, at least for now. Something’s on your mind, Thomas. You know I can tell.”

“Just work.”

“Tell me.”

“Routine.”

“Nonsense. Now, come on. It’s bad enough I’m isolated from everything in your life. I can take it.”

The sad fact was, she could. She rolled with these things better than he did.

“I’m sure I can deal with it quickly,” he said, “but an inmate is filing charges against me for treating him ‘with malicious disregard and contempt.’”

“That will be hard to prove.”

“He says I disparaged his attempt to convert to Christianity and refused to represent him before the parole board. That led to extreme emotional distress that caused him to lash out at corrections officers and get him sent to isolation and cost him any further chance at parole.”

“The man from Central America? Ravinia will take care of it.”

“I hate to—”

“Come, come. She’d be hurt if you didn’t ask.”

After sharing a light meal with Grace, Thomas moved to the living room, where he phoned his daughter.

Ravinia paused after hearing his side of it. “You know who loves this kind of case? Dirk. This will get his back up, and the guy won’t know what hit him.”

“Dirk? Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

“I can’t afford—”

“Dad! Whatever Dirk is or whatever we are going through, he’s not the kind of a person who would charge you. And believe me, he won’t do this halfway. He’ll flood this guy’s lawyer’s mailbox with so many motions and demands, the guy will wish he’d never gotten involved. Tell me you’ll call him.”

“I don’t know. Won’t it be awkward? How are you two doing? Is he seeing Summer more, going to counseling with you? I certainly don’t want to get in the way of—”

“Well, one out of two ain’t bad. We’ve let the counseling slide for a while, because it turns out he really was swamped when he had to beg off from taking her those times. I threatened to get him cut off forever if he treats her that way again, and he cleaned up his act.”

“You no longer suspect him of—”

“Seeing someone else? I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t blame him if he was, after all this time. But we’re cordial, and honestly, I do think he’s behaving. I know I am.”

“Are you?”

“I am, Dad. It’s not easy. And don’t think I don’t have my opportunities.”

“I’d really rather not discuss it, if you don’t mind.”

“I know. Sorry. I just thought you’d want to know that I’m doing the right thing, even by your standards.”

“Well, I appreciate that. But you say Dirk is so busy. . . .”

“Dad, if you’re not going to call him, I will.”

“How would that look?”

“It’ll look like what it is. That you don’t want to bother him but that I knew he’d jump on this. Now I’m calling him, and that’s all there is to it.”

Addison

Brady Wayne Darby was helplessly, haplessly, hopelessly, head over heels in love. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his mug, and everyone teased him about it.

He and Katie were careful to follow most of the rules, especially the ones that showed. She had him back at Serenity on time every time, and while she allowed him to drive the car, it was rarely on the open road, and he drove like an old lady.

On one of their afternoon outings, after they spent their first twenty minutes making out, she drove to the motorcycle dealership. Katie made all kinds of noises to the salesman about looking to buy one of the top models if she could just get used to riding it.

Since Brady didn’t have a driver’s license, she left hers and the Benz at the shop while he climbed on the back of a top-of-the-line Screamin’ Eagle V-Rod. She drove, but once they were out of sight of the dealership, they changed places.

Brady was skittish as a new colt, reminding her that if he tipped it or caused any damage, she was going to have to take the heat or see him sent back to prison. “Where’d you learn to ride anyway?” he said.

“My boyfriends have always had Harleys.”

“Am I gonna have one too?”

“I actually prefer the Fat Boy,” she said. “And, no, I’m not buying you a bike. I will rent one, though, as soon as you prove you can handle it. I want us to come flying up to my house, rattling every window on the street. Then I’ll tell my dad I just met you, that you picked me up at the mall and gave me a ride.”

Brady was howling. “What I wouldn’t give for one of these,” he said.

“Stay close, sweetie.”

Oh, Brady loved this girl. She was crazy, but so was he. And best of all, just the thought of her was keeping him on the straight and narrow. Of course, had she said the word, he also would have committed any felony she asked. But for now he studied like he never had before, was diligent at his every chore, and was earnest and forthcoming with Jan and with Bill, his new parole officer. Well, as forthcoming as he dared. He wasn’t about to tell anyone about the phone, driving, and riding the Harley.

Brady was up at the same time every day, starting to work out (he actually ran a few blocks, but he was so new to it and his system so wracked by cigarettes, he wasn’t sure he had a future in jogging), and was cleaned up and ready to go early.

Bill had a list of local employers willing to take a chance on the top Serenity members. “It won’t be much at first, but as you gain their trust and prove yourself, who knows?”

It sounded good to Brady. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself when it came to Katie North, but he would have sworn she felt about him the way he felt about her. It didn’t add up, and he found it hard to believe. But she never talked about other guys, and they text messaged each other all the time and talked by phone when they could. And every few days, she picked him up for a couple of hours of fun.

Life could hardly get better.

Adamsville

Thomas found himself thinking about the pastorate again. In the prison system, if it wasn’t one thing, it was another. But at sixty, his energy level was already keeping him from diving into the daily grind, the same problem he would have if he switched careers again. And who but a tiny congregation without much money would want a man his age in the pulpit anyway, especially one whose ailing wife would come with the package? He felt stuck.

There was no getting around it: churches got free labor when a pastor brought along a healthy wife, whether she was into music or teaching or running a children’s or women’s program. Who was he kidding? Becoming a pastor again would virtually mean providing charity work for a struggling congregation, and they would be offering precious little to a needy, over-the-hill preacher.

“Man waitin’ in your office,” Gladys told him as he passed her one morning.

He stopped. “Another process server?”

She beckoned him close and whispered, “Your son-in-law. Calls you Dad.”

Thomas found Dirk had draped his overcoat over a chair, opened his briefcase, and laid his legal pad on the edge of the desk. “Hey, good to see you,” Dirk said, pumping Thomas’s hand. “Rav’s told me everything she knows, and I’m honored you would let me help.”

“Well, I—”

“I’ve already been studying this, Dad, and I think it’s a slam dunk. These guys love to drag these things out and make your life miserable, I know, but we’re going to put a stop to that, believe you me. First of all, you’re not to meet with him.”

“No? Won’t that play right into his hands?”

“At least not until he drops the charges. Meantime, he talks to his counsel, you talk to yours.”

Thomas removed and hung up his coat, held up a hand, and sat behind his desk. “Dirk, we really must talk first. I mean, here I haven’t seen you in ages, and we can’t just pretend everything is hunky-dory at home, can we?”

Dirk was finally silent. Then he threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Did you just say hunky-dory? Haven’t heard that in years. No, I guess we can’t, Dad. But the truth is, every minute I spend on your case, I have to make up for at the office. So can we do that another time?”

Thomas shook his head. “You know, Dirk, I don’t think we can. Maybe people of your generation can go about their business as if nothing is wrong, but I find it distracting. Now, I’m sorry this is causing you more work, and if you want to drop it and leave me to find my own lawyer, I’ll just have to bite the bullet and—”

“No way. If that’s a deal breaker, fine. Let’s talk. And if it helps me get Ravinia and Summer back into my life, it’ll be worth any sacrifice.”

“You serious?”

“Serious as a supermax. Nothing I want more than to be back home with my family.”

“Where do things stand? Does Rav know, and is she turning you down?”

“I haven’t told her.”

“You tell me and not her? What kind of a lawyer are you?”