“I mean they are deep, deep down. Down where ain’t nobody gonna find them.”
The audience laughed again, even more appreciatively, quite a few of the women nodding their agreement. But Debby Harper, who had been listening carefully to the exchange, even as her eyes remained glued to Mandy’s quilt, didn’t so much as crack a smile. Instead, she looked at Mandy and said, “You really think I could learn to make something like this?”
“Definitely. If you’re willing to put in the effort, you can learn to do just about anything. Of course,” she said, thinking about her struggles with advanced algebra, “having a good teacher helps. Hope is fantastic. You should put your name down on the waiting list for the quilting class.”
“Really? Do you think I could get in?”
“Sure. I mean, there’s no extra space right now, but the pilot program is going so well that I bet they’ll expand it. Shouldn’t be a problem, as long as your behavior record is clean.”
“You mean, shouldn’t be a problem as long as you’re willing to suck up to Hopeless Carpenter.”
Mandy looked up, twisting to the right, searching the edge of the crowd. Nita elbowed her way through the cluster of women until she was standing next to Mandy, Debby, and Bonnie.
“It’s a stupid program,” she said, turning her back to the others and addressing Debby. “All of those craft classes are stupid. Even if you didn’t have to kiss Hopeless’s ass to get in, become one of her little pets, it’s boring. Total waste of time. That’s why I dropped out of the crafting class.”
“You didn’t drop out,” Mandy said. “You were kicked out.”
Nita turned to face her.
“First off, you’re full of it. I dropped out because the class was boring. Second, I wasn’t talking to you.” Nita uttered an expletive and followed it up by placing her hand on Mandy’s shoulder and giving her a shove, not enough to knock her off balance but enough to make her challenge clear.
With this many women living in close quarters, many of whom had ended up there precisely because of their poor self-control and all of them with too much time on their hands, fights sometimes broke out among the inmates, but not that often. The quickest way to lose your privileges, or even get sent to medium security, was to get caught fighting.
Still, losing your privileges was one thing. Losing the respect of the other inmates was something else again. In the minds of many, failure to respond to a challenge made you a soft target, someone to be looked down on, someone to pick on when people were bored or feeling bad about themselves.
With such a short time left in her sentence, the risk was far greater for Mandy than for Nita. In addition to privileges, Mandy could also lose some of her “good time,” days that had been subtracted from her sentence for good behavior, delaying her reunion for weeks or even months.
Nita made a sucking sound with her teeth, then crossed her arms over her chest, staring at Mandy. The rest of the inmates stood, silent and immobile as mannequins, waiting to see what would happen. There was, after all, no punishment for witnessing a fight, not if it just happened to break out in front of you. Besides, they were overdue for a good one.
Mandy unclenched her fist and got up from her chair. Nita took a step toward her, purposely invading her space, but Mandy stepped aside, pulling her quilt off the table before pushing her way through the crowd.
“Hey! Did you hear me?” Nita taunted, raising her voice. “I said I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Yeah, I heard you. Fine with me. I wasn’t talking to you either.”
On a normal day, one of the guards would already have stepped in and said, or done, or threatened something to help diffuse the situation. But the same flu bug that had sent Deedee to the infirmary had also made its rounds among the guards. The prison was short staffed, which meant the remaining healthy guards were walking the hallways and common areas rather than staying put in one spot.
Mandy kept her eyes in front of her and her progress steady but purposely unhurried. She couldn’t afford to look like she was running away. Otherwise, every Nita clone in the unit would start coming after her. She had to appear tough and strong, not like she was backing down from a fight but like she couldn’t be bothered to fight because Nita was simply beneath her notice.
It seemed to be working. Somebody in the crowd chuckled in response to Mandy’s comment—she thought it might be Debby. Then a couple more people joined in. The laughter was light, but it was directed toward Nita, not her. Mandy found herself smiling. She shoved her hands in her pockets, slowed her pace even more, ambling instead of walking, and started to whistle.
That was a mistake.
With Mandy less than twenty feet from the door, Nita pushed through the knot of bodies, following in Mandy’s wake, lengthening her step with every stride to close the distance between them and shouting.
“Did you hear me? Hey! You better turn around and listen because I’m talking to you. Did you hear me? I’m talking to you!”
Mandy continued on her path, eyes still to the front, but took her hands from her pockets and clenched them into fists, readying herself for the blow that seemed all but inevitable.
Nita’s shouting was growing louder and more insistent. Mandy could tell she was getting close, was practically on her heels. Mandy stopped, ready to turn around and make a stand, but before she could do so, Nita lunged forward, shoving Mandy so forcefully that she stumbled and very nearly fell.
“Hey!”
The shout was louder than Nita’s and more reverberating, the shout of a man, an angry one. Regaining her balance, Mandy looked across the cafeteria and saw Superintendent Hernandez coming through the door opposite, eyes blazing, arms pumping like pistons as he strode across the room. The crowd of women parted before him, then hung back to watch, their faces bright with anticipation. They’d been cheated out of their fight, but being able to see the superintendent rip into the failed combatants was almost as good.
“What’s going on here?” He came to an abrupt stop in front of them, looked from one face to another. “Nita? What did you push her for?”
Having been forced into close proximity for several years, Mandy knew that Nita was a practiced and very accomplished liar. Still, it was sort of impressive to see her in action. Mandy could tell a lie if she had to and thought she was pretty convincing. But Nita? Nita was in a class by herself.
She didn’t flinch in the face of Hernandez’s ire, didn’t bite her lip, or shift her eyes, or blink, or do one single thing to tip her hand. Nita would have been an excellent poker player. Instead, she looked at Hernandez with an expression of very slight confusion, nothing too overblown, obvious, or innocent. She paused for a moment, as if it took her a second to figure out what was bothering him.
“I didn’t. Everybody was hanging out, talking, and then Mandy got up to go, but she forgot her quilt. So I grabbed it and ran after her. I didn’t shove her. I just tapped her on the shoulder, trying to get her attention.”
“If you just tapped her, why did she trip?”
“Dunno.” Nita shrugged, as if it were really none of her concern and he’d be better off asking Mandy. He did.
“Mandy?”
She lifted her brows, attempting to appear somewhat but not overly surprised to hear him speak her name, mimicking Nita’s manner. This was one of those moments, the moment when you had to lie.
“Why did you trip?”
“Like she said, I didn’t hear her coming. I was thinking about my algebra test next week. She tapped me on the shoulder and it startled me, so I tripped.”
Hernandez stared at Mandy long and hard, waiting for her to crack. She didn’t. Finally, he relaxed his stance, gave his head a slight shake, and said, “Okay.”
Nita turned around and walked back toward the tables. He watched her the whole way, as if he wanted to make sure she felt his gaze so she would know he had his eye on her and always would. When Nita took her seat, he turned toward Mandy.
“You on your
way somewhere?” he asked.
“Well, I was just—”
“Walk with me.”
They were halfway to the end of the corridor before he broke the silence. Mandy figured he was trying to do the same thing he’d done with Nita, use the power of his presence to send the message: Nothing got by him.
“Nice work,” he said at last, glancing toward Mandy’s partially finished quilt.
“Thanks.”
“What’s it doing out of Mrs. Carpenter’s classroom?”
“Deedee’s sick and I wanted to show it to her, so I asked Mrs. C. if I could bring it down to the infirmary and she said I could.”
“She did?”
The tenor of his question and the abrupt way he’d asked it made Mandy wish she could take it back. She should have lied, told him she’d slipped it out of the classroom when Mrs. C. wasn’t looking. If somebody was going to get in trouble, Mandy would rather it was her.
“I shouldn’t have brought it to the cafeteria,” she said, trying to deflect the blame back onto herself. “That was stupid.”
“Yes. It was.”
Hernandez halted his steps and turned toward her. His eyes were still angry, but there was something else in them too. Mandy felt like she’d disappointed him and it embarrassed her.
“Mandy, I remember when you first got here. I remember how scared you were. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it. I wasn’t sure you wanted to.”
He was right. She hadn’t wanted to make it. What she’d wanted was to die. Well, maybe not die exactly. What she really wanted was just to disappear, quit being, quit hurting, quit making mistakes that made other people suffer—her mother, Talia.
The chaplain convinced her it was possible. Not that she could erase her mistakes; what was done was done. But she could quit making new ones, make something of herself and her life, and make a future for Talia.
“You’ve done an amazing job of turning yourself around,” Hernandez continued. “You kicked your habit, got an education, and maintained a relationship with your little girl. You also kept your head down, didn’t attract attention to yourself, didn’t make enemies. That’s half the battle around here, Mandy. And you know that.
“What were you thinking, bringing this in there?” he asked, grabbing the quilt, fisting the fabric, and then shaking it in her face. “It doesn’t take much to make people jealous around here. You know that. So why would you start showing off about things you get to do that others don’t? Especially in front of somebody like Nita? She’s the type who doesn’t care how far she falls or how hard, as long as she brings somebody else down with her.”
Hernandez shoved the quilt back in Mandy’s direction, shaking his head. Some of the perfectly pressed quilt blocks showed wrinkles and creases where he’d crushed the fabric in his fist. She quickly rolled up the quilt and tucked it under her arm.
“You’re right,” she said, hanging her head as she realized exactly how right. “Sorry. It was a stupid thing to do. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Well, start thinking. You’re so close to release, Mandy. Don’t do anything to jeopardize that. From here on out, your only job is to steer clear of trouble. Understand?”
She looked up at him. “Mr. Hernandez? Don’t be mad at Mrs. C. This was my fault, not hers. She didn’t know—”
“Maybe not, but she should know. In here, not knowing can be dangerous. But don’t worry about Mrs. Carpenter. She’s my problem. You just worry about you, okay? Worry about walking through that gate and back to your family.”
“Yes, sir. Got it.”
Chapter 31
“Do you know he didn’t even offer me a chair? The man called me to the carpet and then literally left me standing there on the carpet!”
Hope lifted her wineglass and tossed back another swallow, then shifted her phone to the other ear.
“He just sat there behind his desk, chewing me out like some kind of wayward sophomore he’d caught skipping out of third period. The nerve. It’s January; has he already forgotten that we had him over for Christmas dinner? The man was our guest—”
“He’s also your boss,” Hazel said. “One doesn’t preclude the other. If you thought it did then maybe you shouldn’t have invited him.”
“I was trying to be nice,” Hope countered.
“Good. Then keep being nice and admit you were wrong. You knew you weren’t supposed to let students remove anything from the classroom. You said so yourself when we presented the program to him; you promised to keep everything under lock and key between classes.”
“Well, sure,” Hope said before taking another sip from her glass. “Scissors and pins and rotary cutters—anything that could be potentially dangerous. This was just a little bit of patchwork. Not exactly hazardous.”
“But it sounds like it could have been,” Hazel said, “if David hadn’t shown up when he did. Look, whether you like it or not, everybody has a boss. And whether you like him or not, David is yours. He might be younger than you, but he knows more about running a prison than you do. So stop being defensive, learn from your mistake, and move on.”
“Hey, just because he’s your boyfriend doesn’t mean you have to take his side all the time. I’m your sister. I was here first.”
“Okay, first, David isn’t my boyfriend.”
“No?” Hope asked, refilling her glass. “Why not? Sure looked like he was at the Christmas party.”
“Well, for beginners, David has a job in Olympia and I own a business in Portland. I’ve done the long-distance thing before, too many times. It never works.”
“Sure it does. If you want it badly enough, you make it work.”
“Would you make up your mind?” Hazel said. “One minute you can’t stand him; the next minute you’re saying I should upend my entire life for him.”
“Good point,” Hope said. “I revert to my earlier position; I can’t stand him. He’s too rigid and all wrong for you. Unless . . .” Hope paused to take another drink. “Unless he has hidden qualities that I don’t appreciate and you’re crazy about him and he makes you really happy. If that’s the case, then make it work.”
Hazel laughed. “Wow. You’re just a hot mess tonight, aren’t you? How much wine have you had?”
Hope glanced at the half-empty bottle on the counter. “Too much. It’s been a rough week.”
“So? Tell me what happened. Because I know this is about more than David chewing you out.”
Hope told her what had happened at the end of the baby shower, after Hazel and the rest of the guests had departed, explaining how McKenzie had dropped the bombshell about her expectation that Hope would be providing full-time childcare after the baby was born.
“What?” Hazel gasped. “Why would she think that? She just expects you to quit your job to become a full-time babysitter?”
“Apparently.”
Hazel’s laugh was incredulous. “Well, that’s interesting. What did she say when you told her it wasn’t happening?”
Hope was silent.
“Oh, Hope. Come on. You’re not really thinking about doing it. Are you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s my grandchild. I haven’t even met this baby and already I’m in love. Of course I want to help take care of the baby; I’m looking forward to it. What grandmother wouldn’t? When Mom was dying, at the end, do you know what she said to me?”
“No. What?”
“Of all the things she regretted leaving behind, the biggest was the chance to meet her grandchildren. Mom never had that chance. But I do!” she said urgently. “I can be part of my granddaughter’s life!”
“Yes, of course. But you shouldn’t have to quit a job you love to do it. This is McKenzie’s baby, not yours. She needs to raise it, just like you raised your children.”
“For the first time in our lives, McKenzie and I are really connecting the way I always hoped we would. I don’t want to lose that. Besides, McKenzie needs me. I have Rick, but McKenzie’s all alone.”
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br /> “And your students at the prison? They don’t need you?”
Once again, Hope was silent. She rubbed her hand over her forehead, then pinched the bridge of her nose where a headache was coming on. She was so tired. She’d felt like that ever since Christmas. Maybe she should have given herself a little time to recover from the holidays before organizing the baby shower. Was she getting old? If she couldn’t even manage to throw a party without feeling exhausted, how could she possibly find the energy to take care of a baby?
“What does Rick say about it?”
“Just that it was good the timing worked out so I’d be able to get the first group of quilters through the pilot program before the baby came.”
“So he just assumes you’re going to walk away from all your students and the program you created, and not only created but practically went begging door-to-door to get funded?”
“Hazel,” Hope said, speaking in a purposely calm and modulated voice, hoping her sister would follow suit.
“No! Uh-uh. After all you’ve been through, the way you’ve supported him? This just really ticks me off. Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why doesn’t Rick stay home and take care of the baby? Now that he’s retired from both engineering and golf, he’s got time on his hands.”
“Don’t,” Hope said. “Seriously, Hazel. Don’t go blaming Rick. None of this is his fault. If I asked, he would take care of the baby. I know he would. But I don’t want him to. I didn’t say anything yet because he asked me not to tell anybody, not until he’s sure.”
“Sure of what?”
“Well, don’t tell him I told you, but you know he started volunteering at that housing charity, Many Hands, right? Once he fixed absolutely everything that could possibly be fixed at Kate’s house, he needed something to fill his time. Anyway, somebody on the staff saw that he really knew what he was doing, then found out he’s an engineer. Now it looks like they might offer him a job as the project coordinator. It would only be half-time, at least to start with, and the pay would obviously be a lot less than he used to make. But he’s really excited about it.”
Hope on the Inside Page 22