Inward, I winced, wondering how Bonnie would be dressed today.
Twenty-Seven
The first day of April brought a light snow to the hills, the tender shoots of new life blanketed in a deceiving Christmas-white as a determined wood thrush rang out its roundelay, the flutelike notes calling for spring. And still no word from Mr. Morgan.
Junia rode us up to Pearl’s on our last Wednesday drop. I’d been missing my friend these past couple of days and was anxious to see her again. Dipping my gloved hand into my coat pocket, I touched the coins and dollar bills, hoping Pearl would let me use her telephone.
At the lookout, I tied Junia under the first landing, grabbed some books, and hurried up the steps.
Pearl lifted the hatch and I climbed inside. “Here, give me your wet coat, and I’ll hang it by the stove.” She took the books and set them on the table, then hung my coat. “Coffee, Honey? I just made a fresh pot.”
“Much obliged.” I slipped off my gloves and rubbed my cold hands together.
She set two cups down and took a seat across from me.
“Any more trouble from Hardin?” I asked, remembering Gillis and his mama’s conversation in the Company store, wondering how to tell Pearl. I started to say something, but thought better. I’d tell her when we had the pajama party. Right now I was desperate to call my folk. I glanced at the telephone.
She noticed and said, “It’s been quiet. They repaired the telephone. Did you get to Louisville with the nurse?”
“Doc took me, and I saw Mama on Sunday, but only for a few minutes. They had her in the infirmary.”
“I’m so sorry. What’s wrong with her?”
“She has a broken arm from when the lawman arrested her, and they performed a sterilization. And now she’s become a curiosity for the prison doctors.”
“They did that, stripped away her motherhood? Your poor mother.”
“Mama’s only thirty-five, and she and Papa hoped to have more babies one day.”
Awful. “Did you see your father?” Pearl asked.
I shook my head. “I wanted to ask to use your telephone to try and call him. I have coins in my coat pocket to pay.”
Pearl waved a hand and pushed the telephone toward me. “Call.”
I studied the telephone, remembering 0 was for operator. “He won’t be able to speak with me. I’d have to give him your number and tell him to ring back.”
“That’s fine.” She handed me the receiver.
I wiped my anxious hands on my britches, raised the receiver to my ear, and dialed zero.
“Number, please,” the operator asked.
“I don’t have a number, ma’am.”
“Ask her to look up the number and connect you,” Pearl whispered, resting her elbow on the table with her chin perched on a palm.
“Ma’am, could you connect me to the Kentucky State Reformatory in La Grange, Kentucky, please?” I asked.
“One moment, please.”
“It’s ringing, Pearl.” I stood up and looked out the cab windows, holding my breath.
“Kentucky State Reformatory Administration Building. Clark speaking,” the man answered on the fourth long ring.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Clark, this is Honey Lovett over in Troublesome Creek, and I want to see when I can telephone my papa, Jackson Lovett.”
“Lovett, Lovett, Lovett, Jackson…” he said, papers whispering out rattles as I heard him thumb through the pages. “Here he is. Prisoner Lovett is allowed to make one phone call on Saturdays at 2:00 p.m., miss.”