Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (14 page)

“What about security?”

“The guards in the towers will be able to see them. It shouldn’t require any changes, other than making certain they’re aware of the daily schedule.” She paused. “You could have male trustees dig the beds.”

“All right.” The warden nodded. “Next?”

“The next items on my list are more about rehabilitation and the answer to your question about what happens when they leave. Ivy Cochran needs her vision corrected. She’s illiterate, but if she could see, perhaps she could learn to read. Agnes Sweeney doesn’t seem to know basic arithmetic. I could go on down the list of names, but the point is, how can we expect them to succeed once they leave here if they can’t read or do sums? We have some reading materials that have been donated, and my sister Manerva has proposed midweek Bible lessons, but what good is any of it for women who can’t read?”

“Point taken.”

Mamie took a deep breath. “These issues aside, I think the most difficult thing for them revolves around the fact that they just don’t have enough to do. I’d like to start an industry. Even two sewing machines would make it possible to produce any number of things.”

“Scissors make excellent weapons.”

“So do hammers and stonecutting tools, and dozens of other things the men have access to every day to keep their industries going.” Mamie paused. “Not a single one of these women is guilty of a violent crime—except Jane and Pearl. You’re keeping Pearl in solitary confinement, and Jane—as I said, Jane isn’t a threat to anyone.”

“Adam Selleck has said he thinks Agnes Sweeney bears watching.”

Mamie frowned. “Agnes is brusque. And Mr. Selleck—not to speak ill of him, mind you—but he teases the ladies. Nothing out of order, but Agnes doesn’t like it. I don’t think she likes
him,
actually.”

“We’ll come back to the plans for an industry in a moment, but since Selleck’s name has come up, I’d like to ask your opinion of something. He should have heard the attack on Vestal. Can you think of any reason why he didn’t?”

Oh dear.
The very thing she’d dreaded. Mamie hesitated.

“Have you ever seen a guard asleep in his chair when you came onto the floor in the morning?”

Mamie shook her head. “No, sir. Never. They grumble and complain about how boring the post is, but they’re always waiting, eager to leave when Mr. Underhill and I come to fetch breakfast.”

“Underhill.” The warden murmured the name. “He’s a good man.”

“One of the best.”

“I’m going to promote him.”

Mamie smiled. “He’s certainly earned it.”

The warden was quiet for a moment more. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “All right. Daily fresh air. Flower gardens at the entrance. School. A sewing industry.” He paused. “That’s quite a lot, but it all seems reasonable.”

“It—does?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. Everything you’ve said makes sense. Why shouldn’t we try them all? I’ll assign Underhill to think through the security issues, and we’ll have another meeting and get things going.” He reached for the newspaper article about Jane Prescott’s trial as he asked, “Is there anything else on that list of yours?”

“Nothing else written down, sir, but there is something else I was hoping to discuss.” Mamie’s heart pounded when he nodded. “I’d like you to consider letting Vestal keep her baby.”

“Impossible.”

The abruptness of the answer took her aback. She swallowed. “May I ask why?”

“Because, as I told Mrs. McKenna when she raised the same idea, we aren’t the Home for the Friendless where destitute mothers and children are allowed to reside together.”

“Then petition the governor for a pardon for Vestal.”

“And release her to… what?”

“I’ll find her a place to stay. A position somewhere. Minnie might be able to use her in the shop.”
Minnie will kill you for not talking to her first.

The warden had just opened his mouth to reply when someone knocked on the door. When it proved to be Mrs. McKenna, Mamie tried to excuse herself, but the warden waved for her to wait, even as he bent to kiss his wife on the cheek.

Mrs. McKenna spoke to Mamie as she reached up to inspect the dark bruise at the warden’s hairline. “Dr. Zimmer mentioned someone keeping an eye on my husband in regards to headaches or vision problems connected with this.” When the warden winced and pulled away, she frowned. “And
do
you have a headache, you stubborn old goat?”

The warden caught her hand, then bussed her palm. “I’m fine. You can go back to watering flowers and planting okra.”

She turned toward Mamie. “And did he remember to invite you to tea on Saturday?”

“He did,” the warden said, “although he hadn’t quite gotten around to it yet.” He grinned. “You’ll be pleased to know Miss Dawson has been presenting her plan for improvements in the female department. It includes flower gardening, instruction in reading and arithmetic, a sewing industry, and more. Overall, it’s brilliant.”

Mamie could feel herself blushing at the praise. “I don’t know as I’d call it ‘brilliant,’ sir, but if that means you’re going to approve
everything,
I’ll accept the praise.” She hoped he understood that Vestal’s keeping her baby was part of her proposal.

Mrs. McKenna spoke up. “I’m told that my predecessor was known for her pie. I’m no pie-maker, but I’d like to think there’s something meaningful I can contribute to the… work. If that’s even the right word.”

“I should probably warn you, Miss Dawson,” the warden cautioned, “that once Ellen gets a bee in her bonnet about something, she has a way of taking over.”

“Ian McKenna!” she scolded, then turned to Mamie. “I don’t really know what I’m offering… except that yesterday, because of Vestal and Jane, something changed in the way I feel about this place.”

W
hen Jane finally got word she had a visitor the day after Vestal had her baby, the dread that washed over her had very little to do with whatever had brought Max Zimmer to the penitentiary. There was half a floor of relatively empty space and a poorly lighted, narrow stairway between them and the visitors’ room, and Adam Selleck had come to fetch her.

“You must have made some kind of impression on the man for him to be back out here so early today,” he purred. “Way I heard it, he was waiting on the stairs when the warden came across the road this morning.” He winked. “What say, princess? You granting audiences today?”

Disgusting as some of his coarse talk was, Jane had always thought Selleck harmless—until that exchange between Vestal and Agnes yesterday morning resurrected the memory of a host of unexplained sounds in the night. Jane didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but she didn’t want to be alone with Adam Selleck, either. Her heart began to pound. The thought that she might be able to convince Max to plead Vestal’s case with the warden won out over her dread of Adam Selleck. She had to speak to Max about Vestal. And so she nodded. “I’ll see him.”

“All right, sweetheart.” Selleck nudged J. B., the guard who’d been on duty all night, and made a crude remark about the doctor’s “special interest” in the female department.

J. B. unlocked the door, and Jane stepped into the hall. It took all of her self-control not to pull away when Selleck slid a hand beneath one arm, ostensibly to “take her in hand.” It was the first time she’d been touched by another human being in a long while, and it made her skin crawl. And then, as Selleck grasped her upper arm, he pressed against her breast with the back of his hand. She jerked free.

“Well how about that,” he taunted. “There’s fire in the old gal, after all.” He reached for her again.

J. B. cleared his throat. “What say I escort the prisoner downstairs, Selleck, and you wait for Miss Dawson.” He put his hand to his mouth and coughed, then tucked a finger in his shirt collar and tugged at it. “Been feeling like Job most of the morning. Thought it’d get better if I ignored it.” He coughed again. “Got a fever coming on. I’d owe you if you’d spot me, so I can go over to the infirmary.” He nodded at Jane. “I’ll drop her on the way, get someone to mind the visiting room, and let Dawson know you’re up here.” Selleck relented when J. B. rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand and said something about a terrible headache.

Handing his keys over, J. B. nodded toward the stairs. “Get going,” he said to Jane. He coughed again, but with every step down toward the second floor, he seemed to feel better. Just before they got to the visitors’ room, Jane thanked him. J. B. nodded. And then they were at the doorway, and she was looking across the room at Max… and steeling herself against the kindness in those gray-green eyes. She slid quickly into the chair J. B. indicated, her hands in her lap, her fingers interlocked. J. B.—apparently feeling suddenly and completely well—went to the far end of the room and stood in a military “at ease” position, his back against the wall.

“I didn’t know if you’d agree to see me,” Max said in a low voice. “I’m grateful you did.”

“I’m surprised the warden didn’t banish you from the premises when you told him.” She paused. “You have told him we know each other?”

Max nodded. “I rode out early. He wasn’t very happy with the news, but I think he believes that it all just happened. Unforeseen circumstances, and all that.” He glanced toward J. B, then asked about Vestal and the baby. “I just spoke with Miss Dawson, but you were with Vestal in the night. Do you think she’s really doing all right?”

“She’s tired, but seems amazingly well. As for the baby? Hungry.” Jane allowed a smile. “We’re all fairly well wrapped up in it.” She hesitated. “Vestal’s so terrified they’re going to take the child, she won’t even name her.” She might as well get it over with. She blurted out the request. “Do you think you can convince the warden not to do that? Is there some reason—some medical reason—it would be a bad idea? I’m not asking you to lie. But it
was
a hard birth. Wouldn’t it be better for the baby if—“

He didn’t even let her finish. Simply nodded and said, “I’ll do my best.”

“You… will?”

“Of course. You’re in a better position than anyone to know if Vestal’s a fit mother, and obviously you think she is.” He paused. “But I do have to ask—because of the stabbing. Will a baby be safe up there?”

“Vestal has done some bad things, but she’s not an evil person. As for the rest of us, the baby seems to be helping us all remember a softer side of ourselves.”

“But doesn’t remembering make it harder?”

Jane took a deep breath. “If Vestal gets to keep the baby because of… you—” She broke off. “It would be nice knowing I did something like that. Something to help. But I am
not
asking you to lie.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

Jane thanked him, and for a moment they sat in awkward silence. Finally, he said, “Don’t you want to know why I came out here in the first place?”

“You’re smiling, so it must be good news. Is it about Rose?” Jane’s heart thumped. Had Flora changed her mind? Was she coming to visit? No. There’d be no reason for Max to know about that.

Max frowned. “Why would you think…?” He studied Jane for a moment. “Haven’t you been seeing Rose all along? I thought Flora promised to bring her for visits. Surely you’ve been getting letters.”

Jane shook her head. “She decided that kind of contact would be too… difficult. Too confusing for a little girl.” She told him about the last postcard, blinking back tears as she murmured, “I’m sure she meant well.”

Max’s face flushed. “You haven’t had any news in four
years?”
Jane shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell someone?”

“Who would I tell? Who would care?”

He jabbed his own chest with his forefinger. “Me. You could tell me. I care. In fact, I’ll go to Nebraska City. I’ll find out—“

“No!” She leaned forward. “Don’t.” She glanced at J. B. and forced herself to sit back and lower her voice. “I’ve had a long while to think about it, and maybe Flora was right. Maybe it is better for Rose this way.” She swallowed. Forced herself to give words to the fear she’d barely let herself think, let alone talk about. “If anyone causes a stir, she could just… disappear. Make sure I never saw either of them again.” She slid one hand, palm down, across the table toward him, beseeching. “Please. Don’t do anything. Don’t say anything to Flora or anyone.” She sat back, tugging at the too-short sleeves on her gray waist. “When it comes right down to it, Flora’s probably right.” Tears gathered in her eyes. Embarrassed, she tried to brush them away. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She changed the subject. “You’ll really try to help Vestal?”

“I will.” And then he changed the subject back to Jane. “I’m meeting with the governor about your case tomorrow. I’m going to present—“

“Don’t. Don’t say it. I don’t want to know.”

She might as well have slapped him. He brushed his cheek with one palm before saying, “Why in tarnation not?”

“Because I can’t afford hope.”

“But you’re hoping to help Vestal. You’re fighting for her to keep her child. Why won’t you fight for yourself and Rose? I don’t understand.”

She took a deep breath. “I know you don’t. You don’t have to. But please believe me. I am fighting for myself—and for Rose—with every ounce of strength I can muster.” She looked over at J. B. “I’d like to go back to the ward now, please.”

Max stood up when she left, and she almost did the normal thing. She almost put her hand on his arm and thanked him for coming. All the way back to the ward she wondered. If she’d done that, if she’d stepped close… would he have put his arms around her?
That is a dream you had better put away.

Back up on the third floor, Adam Selleck was still on post outside the dormitory. At sight of him, Jane folded her arms across her chest and held on tight until she was back inside the bars. Safe. For now.