“What false statement?” I asked.
“The statement you signed giving your account of what happened during and after the escape. It is clear now that you knew she was alive and did not disclose that to the sheriff’s department.”
“I had no idea—”
“Matthew,” Stanley interrupted. “Let me do the talking.” He leaned onto his elbows and turned his attention to Mr. Norton. “Now, Ernest, you and I both know you’d be hard pressed to prove that Major Doyle knew Mrs. Doyle was alive at the time he signed that statement. The truth of the matter is, he had no idea. Besides that, everything you want to charge him with lies outside the statute of limitations.”
“You would prefer I pursue the other charges, then?”
“I would prefer you stick to charges that reflect my clients’ actual conduct and character. As for Major Doyle, he has broken no laws. He came upon a scene that appeared dangerous to the life of Mrs. Doyle. He drove her away from the scene with every intent of returning her to the custody of the Cullman County Sheriff’s department. Are you telling me you want to go to trial and try to prove to twelve men that Major Doyle—a man who risked his own life to save the lives of countless others in the Philippines, a recipient of a Silver Star—you want to try to prove that you know his intent on that day? I think you would better serve the Cullman community by dropping these ridiculous charges for Major Doyle. Then we can have a real conversation about a plea deal for Mrs. Doyle.”
Mr. Norton raised an eyebrow and looked between us before letting out a sigh. “He is still guilty of aiding and abetting her continued flight from justice. The very fact they are married and were together in the Philippines confirms that fact.”
“All that is confirmed, Ernest, is that Major Doyle discovered that Mrs. Doyle was alive only after the war in the Philippines began. Yes, they were together, but it was while the entire group of islands was under siege. Could he really be expected to return her to custody at that time? How could he have even achieved that? Let’s be reasonable. As soon as he returned home from the war and was released from the hospital, he and Mrs. Doyle made their way back here to bring this case to a resolution. Like I said: You would be better off dropping any charges against Major Doyle.”
I could see that Mr. Norton was giving way, and I silently thanked the Lord for sending us Stanley. He might not have looked prepared, but he had Mr. Norton singing an entirely different tune than when he’d first come in.
“All right,” Mr. Norton said. “I won’t press charges against Major Doyle. However, I will not waver one bit on the charges against Mrs. Doyle.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Stanley said. “Now, let’s hear what your idea of a plea deal is for her.”
I could see that Mr. Norton was none too happy with the way things were going. His back stiffened as he turned his attention to me. Matthew’s hand slid over to mine beneath the table.
“Mrs. Doyle, although your conviction from 1936 was vacated, the indictment for murder still stands. You will still be charged with murder if you wish to go to trial, which still carries the maximum penalty of life in prison or execution. You will also be charged with fleeing from justice, conspiracy to escape, escaping custody, and the attempted murder of two sheriff’s officers. Do you understand the charges as I’ve read them to you?” He peered at me over his glasses again.
“Yes, sir.”
“All right then, if you plead guilty to voluntary manslaughter and fleeing from justice, I’ll drop the other charges. I’ll recommend the maximum sentence of fifteen years in the state penitentiary.”
“Fifteen years?” Matthew said. “That’s crazy.”
“I assure you, Mr. Doyle, that this sentence is fair considering the seriousness of the charges. I believe your wife was sentenced to the electric chair after her first trial. I would think that fifteen years would be a welcome change in the outcome.”
I squeezed Matthew’s hand, and he didn’t say anything else. Mr. Norton gathered his papers and put them back into his satchel. Stanley pushed up from his chair and extended his hand over the table to Mr. Norton. “Thank you for your time today. We’ll discuss the offer, and I’ll contact you as soon as they’ve come to a decision.”
Mr. Norton took Stanley’s hand with a deep frown. “I look forward to hearing from you. Like I said, this is a very reasonable offer. I don’t wish to be unjust. But there were serious illegal acts committed, and restitution must be made.”
“I believe we’re all in agreement on that. Good day, Mr. Norton.”
“Good day, Mr. Pierce. Major. Mrs. Doyle.”
After the door closed behind him, I turned to Matthew with the most determined expression I could muster. “All right. So, I think we should take the deal. What do you think?”
Matthew turned in his chair and took my hands in his. “I don’t like it one bit. You shouldn’t have to serve fifteen years for something you didn’t even do. Ruby, you’ve already suffered so much. How much is it worth? Are you willing to miss Hope’s entire childhood to continue down this path?”
I couldn’t fathom going fifteen years without being a part of Hope’s life. My stomach swam with nausea. But I’d started down this path to protect Samuel from what I knew would be an unjust system. And there was no reason to believe that system had changed for the better.
I turned my gaze to Stanley, who’d taken a seat at the table across from Matthew and me. “What do you think we should do?”
He folded his hands together and laid them on the table, looking at us thoughtfully for a while before he answered. “I read over the transcripts from your first trial. And I read all of Mr. Oliver’s notes as well. There were definitely some irregularities in that first trial that I believe will work in our favor this time. The footprint evidence for one. It never should’ve been admitted, and I don’t believe it would be this time around. Judge Thorpe would likely preside over your case, and he’s a stickler for procedure. That would work in your favor. There was also a damaging testimony from a pastor that I believe we could make sure was omitted. But all in all, I can’t guarantee anything. There is a chance you could end up convicted of murder again.”
“Just ain’t right,” Matthew said, standing and pacing the room. Eventually he stopped and let out a deep sigh. “Ruby, maybe it’s just time to tell the whole truth and let God take care of the rest. Isn’t that what this whole journey has been about? Turning yourself in and walking in the truth?”
“Matthew, you know I can’t.”
Stanley looked from me to Matthew, and then back to me again. “What’s the whole truth?”
I met Matthew’s gaze and gave him a slight shake of my head. He went back to pacing, so I answered Stanley’s question. “I can’t say.”
“Well, my instincts tell me that you should take the deal. It’s not the best deal I’ve ever seen, and there might be some ways to get the sentence down, but there’s no telling what kind of sentence you might get if you go to trial.”
Matthew stopped and leaned back against the wall. He ran his hands through his hair and then threw them out to the side. “Well, I reckon we’ve done started down this path of surrendering. We need to see it through and trust God knows what He’s doing.”
With all the fear swirling around inside of me, it did my heart good to hear Matthew putting his faith in God again, even if it wasn’t very enthusiastically. I just hoped our faith and our family could weather another storm.
***
We decided to pray and give it a few days before we made a final decision about the plea deal. Stanley stepped out of the room for a few minutes to give me a chance to say goodbye to Matthew, and we stood together near the door, his arms around my waist, mine still cuffed around his neck. He pressed his forehead to mine, and I closed my eyes.
“I don’t know if I can walk through this fire, Ruby,” he said. “I’ve been reading my Bible, and I’ve been praying just about all day, every day. But I just don’t know.”
; “I’m scared too.”
“Remember the day you were being transferred to Wetumpka? I came with Asa and your mother to see you, and Asa read the story of Peter stepping out of the boat and walking on the water toward Jesus.”
“I remember.”
“You tried to tell me that day to hold on to my faith. You were right, and I didn’t understand what you were saying. But I read that story again, and I got it this time. I saw what you meant. Peter took his eyes off Jesus. He looked at the crashing waves and the storm raging around him. That was when he began to sink. I get that I’m supposed to keep my eyes on Jesus.”
My chest warmed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “It only took you nine years to finally get it. But that’s better than a lot of folks, I suppose.”
He lifted his head and managed a smile. “I’m pretty hard-headed, I reckon. You want to hear the verse I’m memorizing? It’s what gets me through every day right now.”
“I’d love to.”
“It’s Galatians 2:20. ‘I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.’”
I laid my head on his chest and soaked up every ounce of the joy God had given us for this moment. “I love that verse. I’ll keep it in my heart every day too.”
There was a knock on the door, signaling our time was up. Matthew leaned down and kissed me deeply. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” I slipped my arms over his head and walked over to the door.
Matthew opened it for me, and we stepped into the hallway. Stanley shook Matthew’s hand. “I’ll be in touch soon,” Matthew said. Then he turned back to me. “And I’ll see you Sunday afternoon. I’ll bring Hope this time.”
Once again, John took me by the elbow and led me out into the parking lot behind the courthouse. We made our way back to the jail, heading down the hallway that would come out behind his desk. But about halfway down the hallway, my stomach took a nosedive, and I nearly lost my balance.
“Ho—hold on,” I said, reaching for the wall to keep from falling over.
“What’s the matter?” John asked.
“I don’t feel so well.” I closed my eyes, nausea making the bile in my stomach rise. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Come on. There’s a restroom up ahead.”
He supported me now as he led me the rest of the way down the hall. We came out into the foyer of the jail and crossed the room to another door. I was nearly doubled over at this point, and John threw the door open. I rushed inside, bending over the toilet and heaving into it.
To his credit, John stayed by my side, keeping my hair out of my face as I retched again. When it finally stopped, I stood and leaned back against the wall. John went out and came back with a glass of water. He looked at me like he wasn’t sure what to do with me. Then he unlocked my cuffs.
“I reckon you ain’t going anywhere at this point,” he said.
I drank the water, trying to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth. “Thank you,” I managed.
“Are you sick?” he asked then rolled his eyes. “I mean, I see that you’re sick, but do you feel like you’ve got something contagious? Maybe it’s just nerves.”
I put my hand on my stomach and drank another gulp of water. “I don’t know yet. I just feel a little dizzy. But my stomach feels better now.”
“Why don’t you go lay down on your cot, and I’ll check on you in a bit. If you think you need a doctor, I’ll call one in for ya.”
He walked me back to my cell, and I laid down on the cot. A few minutes later, John brought me an extra blanket. “Thought you might get the chills or something.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He stood over me like he wanted to say something else. He glanced around the cell and grabbed a chair from the corner, pulling it over beside my cot. “Ruby, can I ask you something?”
I nodded.
“That day your uncle shot me. Did you know? I mean, did you know what they were gonna do?”
“No. I would never have agreed to something that was going to hurt anyone else. I’m so sorry, John. I really had no idea what they were doing.”
He sat back in the chair, his expression softening. “I reckon…I reckon I always knew that.”
He went quiet for a few minutes. I closed my eyes, the nausea slipping back into my stomach. He cleared his throat, so I opened my eyes and looked over at him. He was leaning forward on his elbows, but he kept his gaze on the floor.
“Ruby…I…I need to ask you something else. That day, after I was shot. You helped me, didn’t you?”
“Well, I tried. I helped get you into the car. And I did my best to tend to you. Matthew showed up, and we both tried.”
“I heard you,” he said, raising his gaze to mine. “I was gone. I was out of it, but I had this sense that I wasn’t in my body somehow. And then I heard you praying. You asked God to bless my spirit, to work a miracle in my body and soul. You asked Him to heal me.”
All I could do was speak the truth. “Yes. I did.”
“And He heard you. He healed me. Whatever you…can do. Whatever your gift is…it worked. Even the doctors couldn’t explain it. Said I had all the signs of being shot, just none of the actual blood loss. They said I should have bled to death. Same for Sheriff Peterson. No one could explain it.”
“God loves you, John. He knew you’d serve a greater purpose one day. Your work on earth wasn’t finished yet.”
He let out a long breath and rubbed his hand over his face. “I got a couple of kids, you know. Sharon, she was just a baby back then. My wife, Sue, she’d have had to raise her all alone. But you…you did something amazing.”
“God did something miraculous. It wasn’t me.”
“You’re forgetting something. I was there that night old Emmitt Hyde tried to kill himself. I knew it then. I knew you did something. You healed him too, didn’t you?”
“God healed him. I just obeyed.”
He looked at me as if he didn’t know what to make of all this. My stomach churned again. “John, I may need a pail or something.”
He jumped up and left the cell, not bothering to close the door. Soon he returned with a metal pail, placing it on the floor by my bed. “I better get a doctor in here.”
“I don’t think a doctor’s going to help matters,” I said. I closed my eyes again, doing the math in my head.
“Why? You know what you got?”
I finished counting and opened my eyes. “Yes, and it’s not contagious. It’s a baby.”
John’s eyebrows shot up. Slowly, he backed away from me and sat in the chair. “That’s something new. I ain’t never had a pregnant prisoner before.”
“God’s got an interesting sense of humor, doesn’t He?”
“That’s one way to look at things.”
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. God’s timing was always perfect; I knew that in my heart. But I had to wonder at this particular instance. Was it really His plan for me to have a baby in jail? Didn’t I have enough on my plate?
***
I spent the next few days trying to convince myself that I wasn’t really pregnant, that I just had a stomach virus. I couldn’t remember a whole lot about my first pregnancy, especially the first few months when I’d been so focused on finding Matthew. I couldn’t even remember if I’d been sick since I’d been recovering from malaria at the time.
But this pregnancy was doing its best to sear itself into my memory. I spent most of the days on my cot or kneeling over my pail. It was awful. I could barely stomach any of the food John brought me. He finally started bringing me just plain toast and water. The other men in the cellblock complained about the smell, but there wasn’t anything that could be done about it. John even called in the doctor, who agreed that I was most likely pregnant and just had to get past this bit of morning sickness. I took issue with tha
t description. It was all-day sickness.
On Sunday, I was determined to appear as healthy as possible for my family’s sake. There was nothing that could be done for me at the moment anyway, so adding another worry to Matthew’s burdens seemed needless. By midday, I’d gotten myself cleaned up and was sitting in the chair awaiting my visitors.
But to my surprise, it was James that walked in to see me. I jumped up from my chair and met him at the cell door. He looked so much older than I remembered him. Much more like I remembered Daddy looking. His leathery skin was deep brown from being in the sun, and his dark eyes held the same hardness they always had.
“James,” I said, unable to hide my surprise. “What are you doing here?”
He stopped at the door, clearly uncomfortable. He held on to a newspaper and slapped it against his hand. “I reckon I needed to see for myself that you was alive. It’s just…so crazy. I mean, you were dead. But now, here you are.”
“I’m so glad you came. I’ve wanted to say so many things to you over the years. I’m so sorry. So sorry for everything.”
He held up his hand to stop me. “Now, hold your horses. We can get to all that in a minute. I don’t have a long time for visiting today. I just wanted to see you for myself. You don’t have to go apologizing.”
“Oh, but I do. I was such a terrible sister. I never realized how much you sacrificed for us, and I made it seem like I was ungrateful for all you did to take care of me when I was growing up. And then, I kept that awful secret from you. I’m so sorry, James. I really am.”
His eyes widened, and he came closer to the bars. “You’re sorry? Ruby, I’m the one that needs to apologize. I was too hard on you and Henry. I didn’t have to be that way. I know that now.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “We can start over.”
Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Page 32