“Honey, come in.”
“I have the Friday loans, sir.” I held up two novels, Strangers on a Train and The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter.
He peered over his spectacles. “Millie will be delighted. She’s gone over to Beauty to visit her brother and his family for the weekend.” He took the books and placed them on the marbled foyer table and motioned me inside. “You’ve been asking for weeks, and I’ve finally got news on your mother. Get on in here, child.” He raised a crooked arm, flapping it twice. “Come in.”
I followed him into his library, glancing at all the beautiful shelves. Full of books, they circled up to the ceiling behind his fine oak carved desk and a regal matching chair.
“What is it, Doc? Is she well—”
“Sit down, Honey,” he said, pointing to the pretty upholstered chair with a delicate fleur-de-lis pattern in front of his large desk.
He scattered a pile of papers, moved journals, and pulled out an envelope, then handed it to me. “From your mother.” He sat down behind his desk, pleased.
I turned the envelope over and traced my name.
“I visited her briefly on Wednesday, and she asked that I give this to you.”
“How is she, Doc?”
He propped his elbows onto the desk and tapped his fingers against each other. “Doing quite the opposite from the last time you saw her. Her health has greatly improved, and they’ve assigned her a job.”
I let out a breath. “What kind of job?”
Doc pushed a book toward me and tapped, beaming. “The perfect one. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it in her letter. She’s thriving, Honey.”
I exhaled loudly, relieved she was safe and happy.
“There’s more,” he said.
I perked, wondering what else.
“Warden Sanders has really taken to her, and she said your mother has also helped many of the prisoners. They’ve become quite fond of her. She’s used her former job and has been instrumental in teaching and fostering literacy. The warden reported many of the inmates are begging your mother to teach them to read and write. And, the best”—his eyes twinkled—“the governor has promised to grant her a commutation of sentence if she continues to work diligently and stay in the prison’s good graces—maybe as early as Thanksgiving.”
I jumped up, joyful. “Mama could be coming home in the fall. The fall,” I savored the words, then ran around the desk and gave Doc a kiss on the cheek. He blushed and cleared his throat.
“That’s right, child. Possibly fall, latest the first of the year.”
“Much obliged for the news, sir. I’ll see myself out.”
“You’re welcome to join me for supper. Millie left me more than enough.”
“Obliged, but I’d like to get home before dark.” I couldn’t wait to get out the door and read Mama’s letter, find out more about her job.
“Wait, Honey. Millie would dish me up a sinner’s funeral if I let you leave here without feeding you.” He turned and walked down the foyer toward the kitchen. In a moment, he returned with a poke.
I peeked inside the paper bag. “Looks tasty, Doc. Much obliged.” It was filled with two apples, a wedge of cheese, figs, a small jar of marmalade and a half loaf of bread. I clutched the sack and letter to my chest, thanking him again.
Opening the door, he said, “Bluet’s fine now, child. Ride safe and rest up. Looks like you might be needing some extra.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, tired of the sleepless nights and nightmares, wondering when they’d ever go away, wondering how long I had to fear Gillis and his kin coming for me or, worse, the leg shackles the state had waiting for me. “Doc.” I looked up at him. “Have you heard anything about Perry Gillis?”