by Liz Johnson
“What’s going on?”
JB sighed. “I know Mac doesn’t want to bring this up, but this governor’s race is getting sticky. Things are being said by his opponent.”
Suddenly Mac was back by her side, and she turned to look at him, praying that things were not going wrong. “What is your opponent saying, Mac?” He shook his head, but she squeezed his hand tightly. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Claudia Suarez has purchased some advertising that makes me out to be something of a crook. She says I haven’t been completely responsible with the state’s budget.”
“But it’s not true! Just tell them that it’s not true.” Tears filled Kenzie’s eyes, and she knuckled them away angrily.
“It’s not that easy, sweetheart. The voters are going to believe what they believe. But this could be a closer race than we thought.”
Men in orange jumpsuits suddenly began filing into the room, taking their assigned seats. The men nearest to her sat staring at their hands folded on the table. None of them said anything or looked at her, Mac or JB. Taking advantage of the men’s lack of attention, she blinked rapidly and rubbed black smudges of mascara onto her fingers from her bottom eyelids.
“I have another class to teach, Mac, but I’ll see you tonight, right? We’ll finish talking about this?”
He shot a glance at Candace, who checked her calendar then nodded. “Of course. I’ll take you out for a steak after you finish with this class. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got it all under control.” He squeezed her shoulder, winked at her, then followed JB toward the door. Somehow, that was all it took to reassure her that everything was right with the world.
“What looks good?” Mac said, sitting across the table from Kenzie that night.
“Maybe the prime rib with steamed vegetables.”
“Hmm. That does sound good. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had a good T-bone and baked potato.”
“Nana hasn’t made you any lately?” Kenzie asked. It seemed a bit strange for Mac to not have a good steak and potatoes regularly. Her grandmother was a wonderful cook and had created an amazing pineapple-chipotle marinade that Mac loved.
When Kenzie was growing up in Mac and Nana’s home, Nana loved to cook for the three of them. Each evening meal was a special event, with delicious food and close conversation around the dining-room table. Those nights provided the stability that Kenzie craved after her parents’ deaths. At the age of five she had struggled to understand, to accept what was really happening. Her father, Mackenzie Thorn II, was an avid pilot. He and her mother, Grace, loved to fly together, traveling the country.
It had only taken one plane crash to leave her an orphan. And in Kenzie’s childhood mind, it only took two of her grandmother’s meals to know that she wouldn’t have to be alone again. Mac and Nana took her into their home and loved her as their own daughter through grade school, high school, college and beyond.
“We’ve both been very busy lately,” Mac said in response to Kenzie’s question.
“Where is Nana?” It seemed strange to Kenzie that Nana would choose not to accompany Mac on a trip.
Just then the waiter arrived to take their orders—and just as quickly disappeared.
When it appeared that Mac had forgotten the question, she asked again. “Where’s Nana? I haven’t seen her in almost six weeks.” Living in Evergreen, close to the prison—but a two-hour drive from Salem—Kenzie often missed seeing her grandmother regularly.
“Oh, she…she decided not to come on this trip. It’s mostly just meetings and election items on my agenda. Your grandmother would have been bored, tagging along on this trip.” Mac cleared his throat and adjusted his silverware. He seemed a bit stiff, oddly uncertain of himself.
He was probably worried about his opponent, Claudia Suarez.
Kenzie reached out and covered Mac’s weathered hand with her own, much smaller one. “You’re thinking about Claudia Suarez, aren’t you?”
Mac looked a little bit guilty. “I’m afraid so. I can’t stop wondering what her advertising lies will do to my election.”
“But she can’t just lie and get away with it, can she?”
Mac’s broad shoulders beneath his suit jacket rose and fell with his sigh. “No, she can’t outright lie. But there’s nothing stopping her from twisting the truth and making it look like I’m not doing my job, or have taken advantage of my position.”
“But you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to the state of Oregon! Just think about how much this prison education reform is helping the inmates and their families on the outside.”
A broad grin spread across Mac’s lips. “Thanks for the support, honey.” He squeezed her hand, and in that moment, Kenzie was never more proud to carry his name.
“Now,” he said, suddenly looking stern, “your grandmother tells me that you met a young man.”
Kenzie burst into laughter, her cheeks turned a bit red as she answered Mac’s questions about her virtually nonexistent dating life. The only men she had time for these days were her students.
Like Myles Parsons.
Something about the inmate intrigued her. His arrogant smirk and cocky attitude warned her that he could be trouble if she wasn’t careful. But the unsteady rhythm of her heart during their first encounter hinted that he already affected her more than she cared to admit.
Mac’s brow wrinkled. “You know, if you moved to Salem, there would be more single men for your consideration. And I can guarantee you a position at Northgate Academy. I went to college with the headmaster there.”
Kenzie smiled and patted Mac’s hand across the table. This wasn’t the first time—today—they had discussed her leaving the prison. “I do love kids,” she began, before she was interrupted by the waiter delivering their meals. She bowed her head and offered a quick, silent prayer of thanksgiving.
God, thank You for this food. And please soften Mac’s heart toward You. In Your name—Oh! And please take care of the men in my classes, and help them to follow the rules and stay out of trouble with the guards. Especially Myles.
The moment she lifted her head, Kenzie saw Mac’s knowing smile. “I know you love kids. So why not work with them? Think how wonderful it would be, being close to your grandmother and me.”
“Well…it would be nice to be closer to you. But what about these inmates? They deserve to have someone believe in them. Why shouldn’t it be me?”
“But why does it have to be you? There are plenty of other qualified teachers that could take your place.”
Kenzie tried to keep the sting of those words from showing on her face. How could she explain how much she loved working with the men at the prison—teaching them, offering them hope beyond the walls of the prison? Would another teacher pray for the inmates, care for them as she did? She took a bite of her prime rib and chewed slowly on the succulent meat, buying some time.
“I like children, but I really love my job right now. I’m not going to leave.”
“But think of the pay raise and the budget for your classroom in a private school like that.”
Kenzie looked directly into Mac’s gray eyes and said, “No. I’m not leaving.”
Mac’s shoulders slumped as he shoveled a chunk of steak into his mouth, his whole face morose.
“So tell me about the campaign. What have you been up to, other than dealing with Claudia Suarez?” As she’d hoped, Mac was easily distracted with the details of the campaign. He quickly obliged, falling into stories from the electoral trail.
As he regaled her with tales, Kenzie’s mind drifted for just a minute to another man in her life. Blue eyes and a handsome face flashed through her thoughts. She fought the smile that Myles’s memory brought and had to physically shake her head to clear away any thoughts of him.
This night was about her relationship with Mac, not some strangely intriguing new inmate.
TWO
Two days later, Kenzie sighed softly as she waited for the guard t
o open the front gate far enough to pull her maroon sedan into the bus barn inside the prison walls. She slipped the gear shift into Park, turned off the engine, but remained seated behind the wheel.
Her stomach felt like it was tied in knots, and she took two cleansing breaths. But the uneasy feeling remained.
Usually she only felt this way the day of the GED exam, which was still three days away for her most advanced class. Forcing herself to be honest, Kenzie admitted to herself that today she feared facing a set of piercing blue eyes and an arrogant smirk. Oh, she had really done it this time. She had crossed the line of professionalism that was to be strictly adhered to at the prison, for her own safety, and now she had to face up to her mistake.
Leaning her forehead on her steering wheel and closing her eyes, in her mind she replayed the scene from the day before.
“Great work today, guys.” She took a sip of water from the cup on her desk as the men shuffled papers into a pile for her to collect after they left. “Now, don’t forget that we have a review of the math section tomorrow and an English review the next day. The following class I’ll be taking your questions, so make sure you have plenty to keep us busy. And the next class—the following week—is your test.”
Per their usual, the men mumbled unintelligible responses.
Larry, her usual guard, stepped forward from his location just inside the door of the room and the men began lining up to exit. Kenzie started erasing the chalkboard, white dust billowing around her head.
“Ms. Thorn.”
She jumped at the sound of her name. Larry stood on the other side of her desk.
“Yes?”
“Superintendent Ryker wants to meet with Inmate Parsons. He just radioed that he’s been held up at another meeting and will be here in just a few minutes. He said to have Parsons wait here for him. I’ll be right here at the door if you need anything.”
“That’s fine. Since he was late today, it’ll give us a chance to make sure he’s ready for the exam in a few days.” As the guard motioned to Parsons to return to his seat, she knew she hadn’t spoken the whole truth. The whole truth was that Myles Parsons was more ready to take the GED than any other student she had taught in her two years at the prison. He probably could have passed the exam his first day in her class.
Larry moved to the open doorway, standing half in the hallway, leaving Kenzie and Myles in relative privacy.
“Good lesson today,” Myles said from his seat at a table, his tone serious. But his eyes and wicked smirk mocked her from his semirecumbent position.
She heard Mac’s advice to not respond when there was no good counter, but ignored it, blurting, “You have no idea—You just don’t get—What is your problem?” She charged at him, fists clenched at her sides. She certainly had no intention of hitting him, but his one little comment and snide sneer riled her beyond reason.
Just as she reached the table where he sat, he stood. Forced to crane her neck just to look at his chin, her anger boiled hotter. How dare he try to intimidate her with his size? With those broad shoulders and muscular arms?
One call to Larry would have Myles in solitary confinement for a week.
Only one other inmate had ever tried to intimidate her. That was well over a year ago. That time she had crumbled, calling for the guard on duty, having the inmate permanently removed from her class. Fearing that the other inmates in her classes would think they could overrun her, Kenzie had grown braver, stronger. She had read somewhere that kindness could be mistaken for weakness. She let her students know right away after that incident that that was not the case with her. But now she was faced with another inmate who wouldn’t back down. She should have been angry or frightened, but she wasn’t. Inexplicably, she felt safe with him. Oh, he might infuriate her, but for some reason, she felt he’d never hurt her. Was she a fool to trust him so much?
Those terrible, beautiful blue eyes never looked away, never broke eye contact as Myles put his hands around her fists and held them gently.
“I meant it as a compliment,” he whispered. “The polite thing to do would be to say ‘thank you.’”
She should have wrenched her hands from his, stepped back, put at least three feet between them. Instead she took a tiny step toward him, closer to the strength he exuded.
Finally able to look away from his hypnotic eyes, she noticed a bruise forming around his right cheekbone. “What happened?” she instantly demanded. Of their own volition, the fingers of her right hand gently probed his cheek, feeling minor swelling. Was this from an inmate? Or worse, a guard?
That offending smirk returned as he gently pushed her away. Just then JB and Larry had charged into the classroom, pushing desks out of their way as they appraised Myles.
Today Kenzie hung her head low, still too embarrassed to exit her car. While nothing really tangible happened between her and Myles, they both knew that rules had been broken. She was to have no physical contact with any inmate. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to enjoy the feel of his hands briefly holding hers.
He simultaneously irritated and intrigued her. Along with her trust in him came more emotions than she wanted to own up to at the moment. Was she crazy? She didn’t even know what he was convicted of. How could she think that he was safe, that she would be safe with him?
God, why does my heart skip a beat every time this man, who is so clearly off-limits, comes around? she prayed. I just don’t understand what’s wrong with me! He’s an inmate, and yet I can’t help the way my stomach drops to my toes when I see him. He makes me so angry, but he makes me feel so safe. Please take these feelings away from me. I don’t want them anymore.
Glancing at her watch, she realized she was already five minutes late for her first class of the day. “See what you made me do, you…you…blue-eyed man,” she grumbled to herself as she hurried from the car to the security checkpoint. “You made me late!”
The rest of the morning and the first part of the afternoon sped by in a blur.
When three o’clock arrived, she said goodbye to her second class and began preparing for her advanced class, which would arrive in just thirty minutes. Myles would arrive in just thirty minutes. Her heart gave a telltale flutter at the thought of his grin. That sometimes-teasing, sometimes-kind, sometimes-devastating grin.
Devastating? Are you kidding? Kenz, what is wrong with you? Too many romantic daydreams. Get your head in the ball game!
Pushing aside her own inner monologue, Kenzie began doing the physical chores to prepare for the class. Scooting chairs behind desks and wiping off chalkboards required little mental activity, and for the time being she thought it might be best to wipe everything from her mind.
Especially Myles Parsons.
But her heart betrayed her when the inmates in her third class began walking into the classroom. It leapt excitedly, as she anticipated seeing Myles’s face. She watched each man intently as he entered. Nineteen orange jumpsuits, nineteen men, nineteen faces. But no piercing blue eyes.
Where could he be, just a few days before the exam?
A body slammed Myles out of line as he walked toward Ms. Thorn’s classroom. He had managed to maneuver his way to the very end of the line. If he was completely honest with himself, which he really did not want to be at that moment, he had finagled his way to the end of the line of prisoners, hoping to have some opportunity to connect with Ms. Thorn.
As he hoped every day during class. Only because of the mission, of course.
He knew the rules, knew that breaking them meant solitary confinement. And while he had no desire to spend a week alone in a hole—that would defeat the purpose of keeping an eye on Kenzie—neither could he deny the strange effect she had on him when they were in the same room. He knew he needed to keep his contact with her in check, but she made it awfully difficult to keep his mind on his assignment.
Now bright spots flashed before Myles’s closed eyes. He rested his aching head against the block wall, leaning the rest of his body he
avily there, too. He felt like a bulldozer had just rammed him into a brick wall.
Peeking out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the rest of his class was already in the classroom along with the new guard. He and the bulldozer were alone in the hallway.
Venturing a peek at the other man’s uniform shirt and brown pants, Myles mumbled, “Did I do something wrong, boss?”
The guard—what was his name?—Whitestall, didn’t say anything for several seconds. He just smacked his open palm with the enormous flashlight that doubled as a nightstick.
“Do you think I’m stupid, Parsons?”
“No, sir!” Myles jumped. Whatever this was, it was not going to go in his favor.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you cozying up to the teacher?”
Myles bit his lip and kept his mouth shut. Nothing he said would improve this situation. He wanted to know what Whitestall was after, what he was trying to hunt out. Silence was usually the best provocateur.
“You know that if I turn you in to the superintendent for inappropriate conduct with a female state employee, you’ll be spending the next six months in solitary.”
“Yes, sir.” It was best to agree with anything the guard said, though six months seemed a bit extreme. Likely he was just trying to intimidate Myles.
“Do you want to spend six months in solitary?”
“No, sir.”
“I didn’t think so.” Whitestall leered and let out a long, putrid breath. Sweat beaded on his jaw, and his greasy hair fell in front of his beady eyes. He stopped beating his flashlight against his palm for a moment. “I’ve seen you and Ms. Thorn in her classroom, when you think I’m not watching. The way you look at her—sidle up to her. You want to get closer, don’t you? You wish you were outside these walls, so you could really get to know her.”
Myles was stunned. How could he possibly respond? Silence was his only hope, so he bit the inside of his cheek viciously to keep quiet.
“I knew it,” Whitestall snarled. “I can see it in your eyes. You’ll be in solitary for a year if I turn you in.” A slow, cruel smile shaped his lips. “But…I might be willing to help you. Get you what you want and let you have a little fun with her…if you do something for me. You’ve got nothing to lose now.”