Gospel According to Prissy

by Barbara Casey

  Miriam smiled as she yanked at one particularly difficult weed – nut grass. She shook the dirt from its root-ball and tossed it into the basket next to her with the other weeds to be discarded. This was going to be fun. Not since her daddy had been appointed justice of the North Carolina Superior Court had she been involved in the game of politics. There hadn’t been any reason to be. But Miriam didn’t like being lied to, especially when it involved a little girl named Prissy. And if it meant getting involved and playing the game, so be it. She had recently accepted a position on the Administrative Council of North Carolina Piedmont College in Rocky Mount, and a meeting was scheduled for the next week. She knew most of the people on the Council from the days when her father was judge. Senator MacAlly, in particular, had been a friend and supporter in the past. Maybe it was time to discuss some of her ideas with him. And Lara Kruger, the young woman who had come to speak to the inmates about taking correspondence courses through the college, would be there as well. It would be nice to see her again.

  * * *

  Ed Johnson pulled down the tarp, covering the wooden-framed stand while his daughter and daughter-in-law tidied up. What vegetables hadn’t sold that day he would leave for the next. No one would steal anything, and if they did, it was because they were hungry, Ed figured, and they needed it more than he did. He would tell his family that Miss Miriam had stopped by, and that she was planning to drop some things off for them next Saturday. They would like that. She always brought them such nice things and she usually included something for the little ones as well. Something she had just gone out and bought.

  Ed had been born in the old house that three generations had called home. As a small child in a family with many, he had often wandered through the nearby woods and fields, exploring the land and following the imagination of a young boy. He had heard tales of a great battle that had been fought there before it had become Johnson land, and in his youthful mind, he was a great general leading his battling troops to some glorious victory. As he grew older and the demands and responsibilities placed on him became greater in the large household, it was his need to occasionally be alone that drew him to the woods and eventually to the discovery of the giant oak tree. Others, no doubt, had come before him, probably before it had ever been considered Johnson land, for there was a sense of sacredness about the tree. It was the land, Ed reasoned, that was the single, defining element that connected the lives of people not only through time but who otherwise had nothing in common. It always had, and it always would.

  Ed didn’t consider himself a religious man. With so many people depending on him to take care of them, he didn’t have time to go to church. But he knew the difference between right and wrong and always tried to follow the right path. He had been more than a little concerned when the state built the women’s prison right next to his property. But when Miriam Temple took over as warden, he knew it was for the best. He had known her family and had watched her develop into the fine woman she was. She was one of the few people he knew who made a difference.

  It was the tree that eventually made him decide to donate the land to the Braden Women’s Correctional Institution, for he felt that perhaps it would call to those who needed it the most, and give them the peace and solace that he had received on so many occasions. In some way, maybe he could make a difference, too.

  He had watched with interest when the small child first visited the tree. Just as he had so many years before, she chose the tree as the place where she could communicate with her Lord. What surprised him was the fact that she was so young. But it wasn’t his place to question the Almighty. The tree had drawn the child to it, just as it had drawn him so long ago.

  * * *

  “Hello, Lara.”

  Jake filled the doorway to her office.

  He had caught her unaware, at the end of the day, when she was finishing up a news release she wanted to send out before shutting down her computer.

  Instinctively she stood up, keeping the chair and desk in front of her. She must have backed up as well for she was vaguely aware of the bookcase pressing against her. She reached behind her back, bracing herself with her hands and digging her fingernails into the hard wooden surface.

  “Hello, Jake.”

  She looked at his face, examining, analyzing every move, every gesture. Was he angry? Had he been drinking? What was he thinking? She could feel the paralysis of fear course through her body, causing the confident, efficient, intelligent woman she was to once again become a helpless victim. On a much different level she had observed the same type of behavior in some of the students. On campus they proved to be independent, free-thinking young adults. But when their parents came for a visit, they suddenly switched back to the giggling, silly-acting adolescents they had once been. Most of them eventually got over it; they simply grew up. Others never did.

  Jake smiled and moved easily and purposefully toward Lara, consuming the space – her space – with his confidence, his aggressiveness, his self-absorption.

  “I know you must be busy so I won’t take much of your time.” He looked at Lara possessively, knowing all he had to do was to raise his voice to bring her under his total control. “I have been wanting to talk to you. I received the divorce papers.”

  His eyes glanced down from her face and paused briefly on the neckline of her dress. “You look nice. Is that a new outfit?”

  Lara didn’t answer. She knew it wasn’t meant as a compliment. He was just reminding her that he knew her wardrobe. He had bought it. Like everything else, it was under his control and he wasn’t going to let her forget it.

  “Did you receive the restraining order as well?” she managed to ask.

  Jake laughed. It was a contemptuous laugh, as though it was absurd to think that the law could or would keep him away from what was his.

  “I just want to let you know that I won’t contest it. You can have your divorce.”

  Lara stared at him. She didn’t believe him. The only way he would agree to a divorce this easily was if he initiated it. She tried to take slow, even breaths.

  “I’m glad, Jake. I hope that we can always be friends.”

  She saw the familiar darkness pass across his face and quickly disappear. He was doing a good job of controlling his emotions. But Lara knew him well. And when the vein started swelling on his temple, she held her breath.

  “Lara, Tyree needs to ask you something.” Sylvia walked briskly past Jake with Tyree in tow. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t know you were busy.” She stood between Jake and Lara’s desk with Tyree by her side.

  “That’s quite all right,” said Jake smiling. “I was just leaving.” He looked up at Tyree, contemplating if this young buck was making it with Lara. Then glancing back at Lara, “I’ll see you later.”

  Tyree followed Jake from a distance out of the building and watched him get into his truck. Then he waited just to make sure he didn’t come back.

  “I’d better shut the door. Piedmont College is like a small hick town. The faculty are the worst gossips I have ever known,” said Sylvia closing the door to Lara’s office. Lara was shaking so violently she couldn’t even sit down without Sylvia’s help.

  “I saw him come in here as I was walking down the hall. Tyree was the biggest thing I could get my hands on.” She laughed nervously and glanced back at the closed door as though expecting to see Jake come crashing through it. “Are you all right?”

  “Thank you, Sylvia,” said Lara taking a deep breath to compose herself. She tried to smile, but when she did she burst out crying instead.

  * * *

  The divorce was quietly finalized two days later. Because everything was pushed through so quickly, Lara was convinced the Caldwells must have had a hand in it in order to avoid any scandal. It didn’t matter. Just so long as she got her divorce.

  As an uncontested divorce all Lara had to do was answer three questions asked by the judge in his chambers with Jake and his attorney present. Lara’s answers to those th
ree questions ended her marriage. Those same answers marked the beginning of a new life for Lara. For the first time in nine years she felt that freedom and happiness were close to being within her grasp. She could deal with the nightmares. In time she knew that eventually they would go away or at least fade into some dark hidden recess in her mind. And the fear that Jake would suddenly show up either at the motel where she was staying or at her office was already starting to disappear as well. Although each time she and Sylvia returned from having lunch together, Lara had the feeling that someone had been in her office and gone through her desk. Things didn’t seem to be exactly where she had left them. Some papers slightly shuffled instead of neatly stacked, a desk drawer not completely closed, her chair facing in a different direction. And there was that dark green jeep she kept seeing – on campus, or when she went off campus. She thought of it as a jeep although she really didn’t know what it was. It looked like so many of the large vehicles of that type – not quite a van, but bigger than a regular car. But she tried not to worry about these things. She was probably just imagining them. After all, Jake hadn’t contested the divorce. Therefore, he must have accepted it.

  The same day Lara’s divorce was settled, Carole Parker called and invited Lara to lunch. Lara had first met Carole at a fund-raising dinner at the college soon after she started working there as vice president for development. Carole was a successful real estate broker and her husband, Bob, was an attorney. The two women took an instant liking to one another. After only a few moments of conversation, they were telling each other intimacies that are usually only shared between life-long friends and family: Carole’s concerns over her seventeen-year-old daughter, Beth, and Lara’s difficulties in accomplishing everything that was expected of her in a new job. Lara was now included in many of the Parker social activities and family outings. “You are the sister I never had and always wanted,” Carole often told her. And for all Lara knew, maybe she was. Lara had told Carole she was temporarily staying at the motel the day Tyree helped her move her things in. Actually, it had been Tyree who suggested she ought to let someone know where she was staying, and the first person she thought of was Carole.

  After picking Lara up, the two women drove out to a residential area with tree-lined streets, decorative lamp posts, and in particular, a pretty little Cape Cod that Carole wanted Lara to see.

  “I can’t afford a house, Carole. I mean, thank you for going to all this trouble, but…oh, my…it is beautiful…oh, my. Look at that bay window. Is that a dogwood tree out back? Just look at this kitchen – those beautiful cabinets. My gosh, it has three bedrooms and an office! And hardwood floors. Oh, my….”

  “So you like it?”

  “What’s not to like.” Lara kept walking from room to room, looking out of the windows, peeking into closets. But of course it was ridiculous to even consider buying a house right now.

  “Well, you can’t keep living in that motel, that’s all there is to it.”

  The next day, with Carole’s financial assistance and the legal maneuvers of Bob, Lara moved out of the motel. Lara was able to retrieve from the house she and Jake had lived in, with the help of Tyree and his truck and a homeless veteran named Randall she picked up not too far from her new home, what furniture, dishes, and other household items that belonged to her. Lara worked all weekend putting things in order. It felt so good to have a place of her own again – to feel settled and have that sense of belonging. She hadn’t felt that in a long time. Certainly not in the house she and Jake had lived in. It was big, old, and beautiful, but she didn’t feel like it belonged to her. It was more like she was a guest in it rather than the owner.

  When she got to the office on Monday morning Sylvia was waiting for her.

  “Did you see this?” she asked as she spread out a newspaper on top of Lara’s desk.

  Lara shook her head. She hadn’t read a newspaper in over a week. The Piedmont College Board of Directors had hired a professional fund-raising firm, Koonze and Beardmore out of Chicago, to participate in the school’s annual fund-raising campaign. Student enrollment was at an all-time low. Rumors were circulating around campus that the school would close after graduation in May. Lara had been coming into the office early every morning and leaving late at night in order to do all she could on the campaign. By the time she got home, she was too tired to do anything but eat a sandwich and go to bed. And then with moving and all….

  On the society page of the local section of the paper was a picture of Jake and Leona Walker, formerly Mrs. Alton Walker. They had been married over the weekend and were honeymooning in the Bahamas.

  “Mrs. Alton Walker,” Lara read out loud. “Why does that sound familiar?”

  “Alton was on the Administrative Council up until about a year ago. He died of a heart attack right before you started working here.”

  Lara studied the picture of the newly married couple. “She looks . . .”

  “Older?” offered Sylvia. “She is. She’s fifty-two.”

  “What business was her husband in?”

  “He owned a lot of land and a chain of seed stores. And, of course, Leona comes from old money. Her family was instrumental in getting the railroad cut through Nash and Edgecombe counties back near the turn of the century.” Sylvia leaned over Lara’s shoulder, studying the picture. “Well, if he wanted to marry money and get an entree into Rocky Mount society, he picked the right one. The only way he could have done better is if he had married either Louise or Margaret Caldwell.” Sylvia laughed. “I’ll leave the paper with you. You might want it for your scrapbook.”

  After Sylvia left Lara re-read the brief announcement. It must be true then. He had moved on with his life. She would never again have to worry about him. So why did she still feel afraid?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHEN MIRIAM GOT to her office the next morning, there was a plain white envelope on her desk. Inside was a handwritten note from Lynda, the inmate who had caused the commotion in the laundry room.

  Dear Warden,

  I want to apologize for causing trouble the other night. I was so filled with hate and anger that I didn’t know where to turn. Prissy showed me the way. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I am a different person. The hate and anger I once felt is no longer there. I know you have to punish me for my actions. I expect that. But I also want to let you know that I will do anything to gain your trust in me. I am strong. I can work. I can help you any way that you will let me. If you will let me. Prissy has led me to the Lord, and it is through my new faith in Him that I now realize anything is possible.

  —Lynda

  After reading it, Miriam carefully folded the note and placed it back inside the envelope. The words “If you will let me” seemed to hang in the air. Normally, the disciplinary procedures for a violation such as the one Lynda had committed required a minimum of three days in solitary confinement, as well as the loss of benefits, such as watching television. Rachael, the guard Lynda had held a knife to, hadn’t been injured. The only harm done was a few broken chairs and a little lost sleep. As far as Miriam was concerned, if it meant that Lynda really did have a change of heart – a conversion of some sort – It had been worth it. Lynda had a lot to offer. She was still young enough to be impressionable which meant with some guidance she could turn her life around. Miriam had seen it happen many times before.

  There were a number of things about Lynda’s case that had bothered Miriam when Lynda first arrived at Braden. Her age, for one thing. She should never have been tried as an adult; she was only sixteen years old at the time. Her records indicated she had been found guilty of killing her stepfather, even though she denied it throughout the trial. No one else was even considered a suspect, not even the mother who simply disappeared. Lynda had been transferred to three different prisons before coming to Braden. Knowing what she found at Braden before she hired an all-woman staff, Miriam could imagine the horrors a young attractive girl like Lynda must have endured. Miriam had been around
the penal system long enough to know that things weren’t always as they seemed or should be. Sometimes justice simply got it wrong. If that was true in this case, and Lynda really was innocent, it was no wonder she felt so much anger. Maybe now that anger could be turned toward something more positive.

  Miriam tried to concentrate on what she needed to get done that day, but her mind kept going back to another time, another envelope, when she had been a head-strong, outspoken fourteen year old. That was the year her father was running for a seat on the circuit court. She had never belonged to the “in crowd” at school. She was much too independent. Instead, she preferred the company of her parents and their friends. Many of her classmates considered her a loner. Her mother told her she was simply mature beyond her years. There were only two candidates running that year, and the entire town seemed to be equally divided on which candidate should be elected. At school, she was teased unmercifully. One boy in particular, a high school senior, seemed to deliberately goad her by saying negative things about her father. On this particular day, she had all she could take and in a fit of anger she punctured a tire on his car. The next day, the day before the election was to take place, she learned that the boy had been in an automobile accident, and he wasn’t expected to be able to walk again.