Hope on the Inside

by Marie Bostwick

  “Well, you look good,” Hope said, and began walking toward the door. “I’ll save you a piece of the cake.”

  * * *

  The governor actually didn’t arrive until ten thirty, but she got there in time to help hand out the graduation certificates, present an award to Kate, who was so surprised that she was crying in all the pictures, and then give a short speech.

  “The creativity and determination that you women have displayed is something you can be very proud of. But as all of you are aware, without the creativity and determination of some very remarkable people this program could easily have ended before it began.

  “Facing enormous obstacles, your teachers refused to give up. When Mrs. Carpenter tracked me down to try and convince me that this program should be reinstated, it was her obvious passion and commitment to all of you that convinced me to investigate further. Another woman, a lesser and less determined woman, would have given up. But as all of you know, your teacher is not a lesser woman—”

  “That’s right!” Deedee shouted, pumping her fist in the air, a pinkish scar visible across her knuckles. “Amen to that!”

  “Yeah, Mrs. C.!” whooped one of the other women, while another added, “You’re the best!”

  Grinning, Governor Russman went off script briefly to say, “She is indeed,” nodding her agreement and allowing the inmates to have their say before continuing her remarks.

  “And when I had the opportunity to read a previously unpublished report written by Superintendent Hernandez, the insights he offered and value he attributed to this program convinced me it should be saved, if possible. When I urged him to take steps to get to the bottom of the safety concerns that caused the program to be suspended, he did so with characteristic commitment and professionalism. A lesser man, a man not as committed to the job and to you, might not have approved this program to begin with, might not have placed his responsibility for his charges above his personal safety.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Deedee cried, shouting again, as the other inmates clapped and cheered.

  “And a less determined man,” the governor said, looking toward the front row, where David sat, “might not have endured the hard work of rehabilitation so he could be present to celebrate your accomplishments today. I trust that determination will carry him through the remainder of his recovery so he may return and continue his good work here very soon.”

  More clapping and whooping greeted this pronouncement. Hope, who was seated next to David, clapped loudest of all.

  “Now, I know you’re all anxious to get to that delicious-looking cake I see on the back table,” the governor said. “But before you do so, I want to remind you of something important.

  “Though life isn’t always fair—in fact, frequently isn’t fair—the kind of determination that you have shown in completing this program, the same kind your teachers and superintendent displayed in keeping it going, is the thing that can tip the scales in your favor. You won’t always have control over the circumstances of life, but you are in control of how you respond to those circumstances.

  “If you didn’t know it before, all of you now know that you have something meaningful to offer. The quilts that you have made, the hard work and creativity that you have put into them, have blessed the lives of others. I hope you will take that knowledge with you today and that you will continue to be a blessing to others, both within these walls and, someday, without.

  “Congratulations, ladies. We are all very proud of you.”

  Applause broke out once again. Hope rose to her feet.

  “Excuse me, everyone. But before we have our cake and punch, we have one last presentation. Deedee?” she said, beckoning her forward.

  “Actually,” Deedee said when she came to the front, bringing along a paper grocery sack, “we have two presentations.”

  Two?

  Hope looked a question at Kate. The older woman spread out her hands, as if to say it was as much a mystery to her as anyone, but the twinkle in her eyes told Hope that might not be true.

  Deedee moved forward, standing directly in front of David.

  “Mr. Hernandez, when I started this program, the thing I was most excited about was making a quilt for me. I thought it’d be really nice to have my own quilt on the end of my bunk. But if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here today. So I want to give you my quilt. Thank you for saving me. And I hope you get done with all your surgeries and come back real soon.”

  Hope never had seen, never would see, David Hernandez cry. But she could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, moving under the scar where his life’s blood had once poured out. And she saw the expression in his right eye, the damaged left covered by a black patch, and knew that he was deeply moved.

  Deedee pulled the quilt from the bag, a pattern of scrappy red and white bow-tie blocks on a creamy background, and laid it over his knees. Hope saw his Adam’s apple bob again as he swallowed.

  “Well. This is . . . This is amazing. I don’t know what to say.”

  Deedee propped a hand on her hip. “Well, when somebody gives you a present, you’re supposed to say thank you.”

  There was a murmur of laughter. David joined in it, then smiled.

  “Thank you, Deedee.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Now, just one more present. Then we can eat. Miss Kate?”

  Kate stood up and came forward.

  “Several weeks ago,” she said, addressing the audience, “a group of students came to me and said they wanted to do something for Mrs. Carpenter, to thank her for all she’s done. All twelve of the original students, including one who has already been released, contributed two blocks to a baby quilt for Mrs. Carpenter’s new granddaughter, Leesha.”

  Kate reached beneath the podium, pulled out a folded quilt, then unfurled it so that everyone could see it, a simple but cheerful pattern of brightly colored snowball blocks on a crisp white background, with white sashing and colorful cornerstone patches at the corners.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful!” Hope exclaimed. “But how did you ever manage to sew the blocks without me knowing what you were up to?”

  “It was not easy,” Deedee said in a dramatic tone. “We thought for sure you were going to find out. Miss Kate took the blocks home and finished the quilt for us. We hope the baby likes it.”

  “Well, if she doesn’t then Grammy might just have to steal it from her,” Hope said, laughing and clutching the quilt to her chest.

  Hope turned forward to face the audience, but though the chairs were filled with many people—David, Kate, Nancy, Cindy, other guards and staff, the governor and her aides, and the photographers and reporters who had come to cover the event—in that moment, she only had eyes for her students.

  Hope’s gaze moved slowly down the row, pausing briefly to focus on every pair of eyes and every smiling face.

  “For a teacher,” she said, “the measure of a student is how much she learns from them. That’s why I mean it when I say that you’re the best class I’ve ever had.”

  * * *

  “This is good cake,” David said.

  “Glad you’re enjoying it,” Hope replied.

  “No, I mean it. This is seriously good cake. Like biblically good.” He bobbed his head as he chewed, the look on his face somewhere between wonder and shock. He swallowed and pointed his plastic spork at the paper plate. “You made this?”

  “Rick did. Oh, wait. That reminds me.” Hope turned toward the table, where Kate was tidying up, picking up discarded paper napkins and crumb-strewn plates. “Kate? Could you wrap up a piece of cake and put it aside? I promised Wayne.”

  “I would, but there isn’t any left.”

  “Seriously? It should have served fifty.”

  “I sent some home with the governor.”

  “Oh no,” Hope groaned, then raised a finger to David and said, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  Hope carried her partially eaten slice of cake to the table, trimmed a ra
gged edge in hopes that Wayne wouldn’t know the difference, asked Kate if she could carry it to the guard, and then went back to pick up the conversation.

  “Sorry about that. Wayne isn’t the kind of person who forgives easily.”

  “Oh, believe me, I know.”

  David lifted his spork toward Hope, silently offering her a bite of cake. She shook her head.

  “You go ahead. I can always get more biblically good cake at home. Now that Rick has settled into his new job, he’s started baking again. If he keeps this up, I may have to start running for real.”

  “So, Rick’s liking his new job?”

  “Loves it.”

  “And what about you?” he asked. “Liking your new-old job?”

  “More than ever. The part-time schedule really is better for me. Rick and I get to spend our days off together and we’re available to help McKenzie with the baby if and when she needs a backup or a break. They say you can’t have it all but, for the moment at least, it feels like I do. And the work itself?” Hope spread her hands to indicate that the answer should be obvious. “Apart from seeing my kids turn out so well, this is the most satisfying thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  “In some ways, it’s kind of the same thing, isn’t it?” David said, glancing around the room at the inmates who were still milling about, enjoying cake and one another’s company. “We don’t have as many success stories as I wish we did, but when they can leave here and make a new life for themselves on the outside? Well. There’s something pretty great about that, isn’t there?”

  “Speaking of success stories,” Hope said, “I saw Mandy a couple of weeks ago. She had a summer job with a landscaping company and they decided to keep her on over the winter. She’s doing office work, mostly bookkeeping.”

  David grinned. “Really? Good for her. Guess those math classes paid off.”

  “Best of all is that she and her parents called a truce. Well, it was her mother, really. Apparently, Lola told her husband that if he kept up with his plan to rescind Mandy’s parental rights she’d leave him. He didn’t believe her—not until the moving truck pulled into the driveway.”

  “So the daughter is living with Mandy now?”

  “Not quite. They’re working out a gradual transition of custody. Right now, Mandy just has Talia on weekends. That was Mandy’s idea; she thought it would be better for Talia. And they’re all going to family therapy. That hasn’t exactly been a picnic, but it sounds like they’re working out some issues.”

  “Huh. Well, that is really good to hear. I always thought Mandy had a lot of potential, if she could just get herself straightened out. Sounds like she has.”

  “On the road to it anyway,” Hope said. “But how are you doing? You look great.”

  David took another bite of cake.

  “Still the world’s worst liar,” he said, his mouth half-full. “I don’t look great. I didn’t look great even before Nita tried to slice my face up like a Christmas ham. But I definitely look better. After this next surgery, I’m hoping I’ll look kind of . . . rugged. Maybe pass myself off as a retired Navy SEAL. Or a reformed pirate.” Hope laughed and David grinned. “Of course, if this corneal transplant works like the doctors hope it will, I probably won’t be able to pull off the pirate thing. Who ever heard of a pirate without an eye patch?”

  “Or a parrot?” Hope added.

  “Good point. And,” he said slowly, drawing out the word, “as far as when I’ll come back, the answer is—I might not.”

  “What?” Hope gasped. “Why? David, I can only imagine how traumatic this has been for you. But you were a great superintendent. Did you hear all that stuff the governor was saying about you? Before she left, she told me the report you wrote about the quilting program and ways to better serve the female prison population is being shared with correctional superintendents all over the country. She personally passed copies on to other governors at the last regional conference. And you were just saying, not ten seconds ago, how satisfying this is.”

  “I know, I know,” David said, lifting his hands. “And it is satisfying. Or was. But even before this happened, I was starting to think I needed a break. A lot has happened to me in the last few years, Hope. I got cancer; my wife left me. I never really dealt with that. And now this?” He spread his hands.

  “It’s starting to feel like God is trying to tell me something. And since He seems to be trying pretty hard to get my attention . . .” David grinned. “Well, I don’t really want to dig in my heels and see what comes next. Plagues of locusts, maybe.”

  “Well. Okay,” Hope said grudgingly. “But I’ll really miss you if you don’t come back.”

  “I have a feeling we’ll be running into each other.”

  “I hope so. So, what are you going to do? I mean, I know you’ve got some recovering to do yet, but after that? Will you look for another job? Go work for another prison?”

  “Actually,” he said, “I was thinking of going back to school, getting my master’s degree.”

  “Criminal justice?”

  David shook his head as he scraped the last smear of icing off the plate. “Secondary school education.”

  Hope’s eyes went wide. “You want to be a teacher?”

  “Thinking about it,” David said, eating the last bite of icing. “I’m going to start classes down at Portland State in January, try a semester, and see how I feel about it.”

  “Well—Wow.” Hope blinked twice. “That’s great, David. Unexpected but great. So you’re moving to Portland. Need the name of a good Realtor?”

  “No, thanks. Already got one.”

  The twinkle in his eye was so mischievous and self-satisfied that, had David not had a patch over his other eye, Hope would have sworn she saw him wink.

  “In fact,” he said, his smile fading and lips flattening into something approaching uncertainty, “I was just talking to Hazel the other day. We’d been texting a lot, you know, before this happened. . . .”

  “Yes, she told me.”

  “Right. Well, after I got hurt, I kind of cut it off.”

  “She told me that too,” Hope said.

  “Yeah.” David sniffed and ducked his head. “That was pretty stupid of me. But I had a lot going on and I thought, if she saw me like this . . . Well. You know.”

  “I think Hazel really likes you, David. More than likes you.”

  David lifted his head to look at Hope.

  “And I more than like her.”

  Hope nodded.

  “So anyway,” he said, then cleared his throat, “after I get this corneal transplant, I’m going to have to recover for a while and figured that I might as well do it someplace warm, with a beach. I’ve rented a condo for a couple of weeks down in La Jolla. I asked Hazel to come with me and she said okay. Did she tell you that?”

  Hope shook her head. “No. She didn’t.”

  “Ah.” David pressed his lips together. “Well. That okay with you?”

  “David,” she said, her lips drawn into a bow, “not only is that okay with me; it’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

  Chapter 47

  Knowing Hazel and David needed to drive back to Portland that night after Christmas dinner, Hope had moved the meal a few hours ahead this year. So even though it was still early evening when she walked them to the door to say goodbye, the candles were beginning to sputter.

  The remaining revelers—just the family at this point, Kate, Nancy and John, and the other guests having already departed—were lolling on couches and chairs in the living room, digesting, apparently so bloated that they were unable to summon the energy to get up and say goodbye when Hazel said it was time they get going. The only exception was Pamela, who politely rose from the sofa and gave Hazel and David a farewell hug. The rest of the nephews and nieces held their ground, lifting arms to wave goodbye from their various places of collapse.

  “See you, Hazel!”

  “Bye, David!”

  “Drive saf
e!”

  “Thanks for the sweater!”

  Hazel gave Hope another hug and kiss. “Thanks, Sis. Another amazing Christmas. I honestly don’t know how you do it, but I’m really glad you do. It was wonderful, as always.”

  “I’m so glad you could come,” Hope said, squeezing her sister one last time. “Are you sure you’re not too tired to drive back? You could sleep here, get up early, and go back in the morning, you know. Reed and Pamela are staying over at McKenzie’s place, so we’ve got room for you.”

  “No, but thanks. I’ve got a sales presentation tomorrow,” Hazel said.

  “And I have a huge pile of reading I need to get to,” David added, shifting the armload of gifts he was carrying to one side and then kissing Hope on the cheek.

  “The semester doesn’t start for another two weeks,” Hope protested. “And who schedules a sales presentation for the day after Christmas?” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You two, I guess. That’s okay. Every family needs at least one overachiever. Or two,” she said, smiling at David.

  “Hey!” Reed shouted from his spot on the sofa. “Who are you calling an underachiever? I’m a tenure-track professor.”

  “Yeah, and I’m a doctor,” Rory added.

  “And I’m a single mother and head of my department,” McKenzie said, leaning forward to kiss baby Leesha on the nose.

  “And I’m . . .” Liam raised a fist over his head and then let it flop to his side. “Oh, wait. A total loser. Almost forgot.”

  “Oh, you are not,” McKenzie said impatiently, rolling her eyes. “It was a small production company and it ran out of money. Big deal. You’ll find another job. In the meantime, if you’re looking to make yourself useful, here. Be a good uncle and play with your niece.”

  She handed the baby to Liam, who started making goofy faces at his niece and talking in a voice reminiscent of Kermit the Frog. He was instantly rewarded with a drooling, beaming, toothless infant grin.

  After giving Hazel and David a final wave and reminding them that she and Rick were still coming to Portland for New Year’s Eve, Hope closed the door, went back into the living room, and started picking up the abandoned and empty glasses. A moment later, Rick, still wearing his baker’s apron, walked in and clapped his hands together.