Saving Jane Doe

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Saving Jane Doe Page 18

by Carolyn Purcell


  “I probably have them,” Jessie said with some excitement. “Maybe he will see them.”

  I was paged to the hospital for a delivery. Bill offered to drive Jessie home so she could stay. She later told me she stayed all afternoon. Bill played the piano and she and Elaine sang old hymns and Sigmund Romberg songs that Jessie had learned in high school.

  Wednesday afternoon found me driving to Eddyville again. Even though I only worked until noon, the day was dark when I left the office. My heart felt heavy, like leaves weighed down with raindrops. I didn’t like the barren prison and worried it was not a good setting for Jessie to meet Mike. Jessie, on the other hand, had high hopes for this meeting. Her heart seemed light, like a leaf floating on the wind. Clutching a bag, which I rightly guessed held the scrapbook, she talked the whole way about Jeff, how he loved to sing as a little boy, how he protected his little sisters, how he confided in her when he was afraid. There seemed to be such a bond between them, I couldn’t imagine how heartbroken that little boy must have been when she was suddenly gone. Would he ever forgive her?

  As we parked the car, Jessie grew quiet. Cement parking areas abutted gray walls with no relief by grass or trees. The austere prison loomed before us. The weight of those walls seemed to settle over Jessie. Her eyes widened as her skin grew pale and her hands began to tremble.

  “What a horrible place,” she muttered more to herself than to me.

  “Unfortunately, the inside is no better. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “I’ve waited over twenty years for this day. Gray walls won’t stop me.”

  Inside we followed the guard down long corridors, through locked doors, coming to the same room I had visited before. There was no waiting room for people accompanying visitors, so I was shown into the room with Jessie. I offered to wait in the car, but she grabbed my hand and asked me to stay. “I need you,” she said.

  Mike, dressed in his orange prison clothes, came into the room. He stood tall, his face defiant. Jessie remained seated. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, he spoke first. “Dr. Parker says there’s more to your story than I know. I assume you have come to tell me.”

  “Yes, I’m here to tell you what happened, if you will listen.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Yes, of course you do. I’ve learned we always have a choice, even when we don’t think we do.”

  “Go on.” Mike sat down.

  “I didn’t leave with another man like you believed. I loved your father, and I love you.”

  Mike gave a grunt of disbelief as he stared at the floor.

  “Do you remember what happened a few months before I left?”

  “Yes, you had a stillborn baby boy. I felt like I lost you then.”

  “In many ways you did. I was depressed, forcing myself to go through the motions of life. Jeff, I got pregnant again, and I left that morning to have an illegal abortion. I thought I would be home by the time you got home from school, and no one would know. Dr. Parker was one of the doctors who saved my life when I was found unconscious and in shock. I had no identification so the hospital could not contact your father. When I regained consciousness, I had no memory of who I was or how I got there. I was in the hospital for months. When I got out, I became the housekeeper for Dr. Parker’s uncle. It was eighteen months before I saw your father and remembered my past.”

  Mike remained silent, now staring intently at her.

  “There was never another man, and there hasn’t been in all these years,” Jessie said.

  “Is that supposed to make it all right that you deserted your family?” Mike said, the pace of his speech speeding up with his rising anger.

  “No, Jeff. I am not making excuses. What I have done will never be all right. I just want you to know what happened and that I love you, that I never intended to leave you, and certainly not for some other man. I did a terrible thing, and you, your father, and your sisters have had to pay for it. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

  “I’ll have to think about that.” He abruptly rose and turned to leave. “I’ve heard enough,” he said as he walked out and slammed the door.

  Tears ruined Jessie’s silk blouse as we called the guard to let us out. She clutched the scrapbook like a drowning man clutches shattered pieces of his ship which has been dashed on the rocks.

  “He didn’t say no,” was all she said on the long trip home.

  Several weeks passed before I talked to Jessie or Elaine again. Then one Friday Elaine came to discuss her antidepressant. She looked well, wearing her makeup and an attractive yellow sweater set with khaki pants. She had been lifting weights and running with Mike’s Labrador retriever. She said she had seen a lot of Jessie and her father lately. Her father was planning to retire and move to Lexington.

  “I have taken antidepressants for over a year now,” she said. “I’m sure I needed them, but I don’t like the way they make me feel. I’m numb.”

  “Seems hard to believe it’s been that long. How are things going with Mike?”

  “He still refuses to see me, but I did find a job. It’s more receptionist than paralegal, and it pays a little more than half of what I was making. I put the house on the market. Without Mike’s income and with my decrease in pay, I can’t afford to keep it. It makes me sad to think of losing the home I shared with Mike, but I figure it’s better to sell it than to have a foreclosure. My father is helping me keep it until the sale.”

  Remembering the living room where Greg died, I said, “I’m sure it has some sentimental value, but there are some unhappy memories there as well.”

  “Well, that’s true.”

  “Have you decided what you’ll do when it sells?”

  “Jessie invited me to move in with her. She says that she rattles around in that big house since Grace, Ellen, and Henry left. I’m not sure about living with her.”

  “I lived with Jessie for a couple of years after my Uncle Henry died. I was a resident, working eighty hours a week. She was a wonderful roommate, used to have dinner on the table when I got home from the hospital. I don’t remember her saying a cross word. It might be good for both of you.”

  “I’m just concerned that, if I don’t have my own place, Mike won’t have a place when he gets out of prison. I haven’t given up on him, and I’m afraid he might not want to live with Jessie.”

  “Have you heard when that will be?”

  “The parole board will consider his case after a year.”

  “Maybe you could stay with Jessie until you know what they say. A lot can happen between now and then.”

  “Well, I still have to sell the house. Do you think I can stop the antidepressant?”

  “Yes, I think you can, especially since you’re exercising and eating properly. Your father and Jessie are providing support that you didn’t have when you started. You don’t need to taper off this particular antidepressant. You can just stop. I’ll see you back in three weeks to see how you feel off the medicine.”

  Three weeks later Elaine returned to my office looking a little tired. Since she did not need an exam, my nurse showed her into my consultation office. When we were both comfortably seated, she admitted that she had not slept well the night before.

  “I feel better off the medicine. Even if I don’t always sleep as well, I have more energy. You won’t believe it; I sold the house.”

  “I’m not surprised. I would have bought it for the yard alone. You did a beautiful job with your gardening.”

  “I’m relieved to be out of that responsibility. The closing is next week.”

  “Did you decide about living with Jessie?”

  “I’ve decided to take her up on the offer. I don’t really need to be alone.”

  “I think it will be good for both of you.”

  Elaine nodded. “Jessie is a wise woman. She says I need forgiveness not just from Mike, but from others as well. I thought about that and decided to go see Greg’s mother.”

  “Yo
u did? Did you know her?”

  “Yes, Mike and I had seen her several times at Greg’s home, and she’s a member of our church. I told her I was sorry about what happened to Greg and sorry that I aborted her grandchild. I asked her to forgive me.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said she did forgive me. She said she had always liked Mike and me, and she believed us that Greg’s death was an accident.”

  Amazed, I thought how difficult that visit must have been, both for Greg’s mother and for Elaine. I didn’t know what to say.

  Elaine continued. “You won’t believe what she asked me.”

  “What was that?”

  “She asked me if Greg forced me to have sex with him.”

  “Really?”

  “I asked her why she asked, and she said she was surprised that I would get pregnant with Greg’s baby. She had always thought that Mike and I had a good marriage. I didn’t respond, and she went on to say that Greg had been accused of rape in college. The grand jury didn’t indict him because the girl decided not to testify. The charges were dropped. I told her I didn’t want to have sex with Greg, but I didn’t fight him. He was insistent, and I was afraid.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She thanked me for not saying that in the trial, and she said she was sorry. She also asked me to tell Mike she forgives him too.” The intercom buzzed. My nurse said L&D was on the hospital line.

  “Excuse me Elaine, I need to take this.” I gave routine admission orders for a patient in early labor and calculated I would have several hours before they needed me. Then I asked my nurse to call Jon’s office and tell him I had someone in labor and would call him later. “I’m sorry, Elaine. That was someone in early labor. I guess you haven’t told Mike about this conversation with Greg’s mother.”

  “No.”

  “I wonder if Greg’s mother would visit him.”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask her that.”

  “Elaine, maybe I should have told you this before now, but when I saw Mike we talked briefly about his refusing to see you. I told him you might have something to say that would make a difference. He was angry, saying nothing would change the fact you were pregnant unless you were raped, when he stopped midsentence like he remembered something. Do you think he knew about the rape charges?”

  “He might have. They were friends from college.”

  “If he knows, maybe he would believe you.”

  “I hope I get the chance to tell him.”

  “Have you tried writing to him?”

  “Yes, he refuses my letters too.”

  “Have you taken him any more books?”

  “No. Why?”

  “He read the others before he sent them back.”

  “He did? I’ll take more. Maybe I could sneak a letter inside,” she said with a faint smile, the first I’d seen in a long time.

  “Did Jessie tell you she saw Mike?”

  “Yes, she told me about it. She wants to see him again, but she’s afraid he won’t see her. She’s not like me. She says she couldn’t go week after week and have him refuse to see her. She’s hoping you will offer to take her again.”

  “To tell you the truth, I was a little embarrassed being there the last time.”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t be. She said she couldn’t have done it without you.”

  CHAPTER 14

  A few weeks later, I had a free Wednesday afternoon. A patient scheduled for a hysterectomy developed a bad cold and the surgery had to be rescheduled. Having no intention of making another trip home from Eddyville with Jessie in tears, I decided to go see Mike and learn for myself where he stood on forgiving her.

  It was a beautiful fall afternoon; the trees were at that perfect color where there is still a little green mixed with the red and yellow. The bright sun made the colors even more vibrant, and I loved the crisp chill of sweater weather. Still, I dreaded the visit before me. I had no idea it would be one of my best afternoons ever.

  When I arrived, the sunshine seemed to remove some of the gray from the place. I noticed a beautiful oak tree to the left of the entrance that I had never noticed before. The slamming, locked doors did not disturb me as much as they had on my first visit. As Mike walked into the visitors’ room, I knew this was going to be a good visit. He looked me in the eye, and a big smile lit up his face. His step was lighter and quicker. Even the cadence of his speech was different.

  “Dr. Parker, I am so glad you came. It’s good to see you.”

  I returned his smile. “I’m glad to see you too. Why don’t you call me Cara? I’m not here to be anybody’s doctor.”

  “Okay, Cara it is.”

  “I guess this may sound like a strange thing to say to a man in prison, but you seem happier today.”

  “I am. I don’t know if my mother ever told you, but she made me take piano lessons from the time I was five years old. We had an old ebony upright piano that weighed a ton and had the ivory missing from some of the keys.” Mike looked past me, like he could see and that old piano. “We moved a lot when I was growing up, from one rented house to another. Dad always complained about having to move the piano, and Mom would just find more neighbors to help him. About a year after Dad married Mary, we moved to her house. Dad left that piano sitting in the house where my mother left it and us. I played until the day she left home, and I had not touched a piano since that day until about a month ago. The man who plays piano for our traditional chapel service is getting paroled next week, and the chaplain needed someone to play. He said that if anyone volunteered they could practice in the chapel whenever they wanted. Nobody stepped up, so I agreed to do it. I’ve been playing old hymns for hours every night, and they have changed my life.”

  “Why, Mike, that’s wonderful. I love the old hymns too, but I’m surprised they use traditional music in the services here. I would have thought they would use contemporary music.”

  “Oh, they have a contemporary service too. They actually provide every kind of worship service that is represented by the population. They even have an outdoor place for Native Americans to worship. The chaplain is in charge of finding someone to lead all of the services, but he doesn’t lead what is not of his faith.”

  “I’m glad to know they provide what people need spiritually.”

  “Chaplain Harrison is great. His mantra is, ‘If you have to do time, do it right. Don’t let doing time waste your life; have it make your life. Do time with your Lord.’ His theme song is ‘Take Time to Be Holy.’ That’s his idea of doing it right. I’ve practiced that one a lot, and the words are wonderful. We sing it every Sunday. I think he’s taken that text and extracted the ideas so that even the other religions can benefit from the wisdom. As I sit and play, reading the words over and over, I feel the anger and fear going out of me, feel peace and joy coming in. I’m glad my mother made me learn to play.”

  “Speaking of your mother, have you given any more thought to forgiving her?”

  “Yes, I choose to forgive her. Chaplain Harrison says forgiveness is a choice we make. We act like we forgive, and then the emotions gradually catch up with the conscious decision.”

  “Sounds like a wise man. Your mother wanted to show you something that she has been making all these years. I think it would be good if you could see it.”

  “Tell her to bring it. I’ll look at it.”

  “I will. Is one time better than another? I understand you have a job.”

  “Yes, but I’m off on Wednesday afternoons, evenings, and weekends. Grace comes every weekend. Maybe Mom could come with her.”

  “I’ll suggest it.”

  “What do you think about Grace?”

  “What do you mean? She’s an extraordinary young woman.”

  “I mean, is she okay?”

  “It has been so long, I would think that she’s cured. Childhood leukemia is cured now most of the time, but when Grace had it, cure was extremely rare. I read a paper, written in the 1970s, that repor
ted only fifteen out of over fourteen hundred children had survived for five to seventeen years. Grace’s survival is a miracle.”

  He looked pensive for a moment. “Grace is a miracle in more ways than one. I’ve never known anyone as loving. She sees the best in everybody, and everyone, male and female, loves her. There is no shortage of guys who want to date her, but she’s just amused and refuses to go out with them. She’s thirty years old. I wish she could find someone to share her life.”

  “Maybe she’s still concerned about getting sick. She did see how hard it was for you to lose Sara, and she’s the most sensitive person I’ve ever known.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think she could ever have kids?”

  “I would think that she’s fertile, but she might not want to have kids for the same reason she won’t date. Do you have many other visitors?”

  “Dad comes every weekend too.” I guess my face betrayed me, because Mike quickly added, “Cara, being my mother’s friend, you have seen my father at his worst, but he really is a good man. He’s hard on people, but hardest perhaps on himself. He grew up with that rigid, judgmental brand of Christianity that turns so many people off. This thing with me has finally made him realize that you can and should still love people when they disappoint you. He told me last weekend that he feels bad about the way he treated Ellen.”

  “Ellen needs to hear his apology. He hurt her.”

  “He knows that. I suggested he go see her. He hardly knows Henry, and he will graduate this June and be gone from home.”

  “Does Ellen ever get here to see you?” I leaned back in the straight, hard chair and thought about how hard it would be to visit if you were as sick as Ellen.

  “Rarely. Do you know that she was diagnosed with chronic active hepatitis?”

  “Yes, I know that. She told me when she came in for her annual gynecologic checkup. I feel so bad about it. I’m the one who gave her all that blood. I thought she had been spared, but her initial hepatitis was so mild we missed it. We all thought she was just tired from taking care of Carl Henry.”

 

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