Chapter 1
\nThe slate-colored sky matched Lena\u2019s spirits as she sprinted toward the bus stop. \u201cDon\u2019t be late,\u201d Mrs. Stanfield had warned earlier. \u201cThe bus leaves promptly at 5:15 and there won\u2019t be another until tomorrow morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lena hadn\u2019t planned to be late. But with two hours to spare, she had ducked into the public library to use the restroom and escape the elements, then found a comfy easy chair. While reading a recipe for cranberry cake in the December issue of Better Homes and Gardens,<\/em> Lena had dozed off, lulled by the warmth, the flickering fluorescent lights, and the sweet, musty smell of books. If not for the librarian\u2019s nudge, since the library closed at six, Lena would probably still be sleeping.<\/p>\n Instead, she was running down the sidewalk with the icy wind in her face and her purple parka flapping wildly behind her like a parachute. She waved her arms, calling frantically to the bus driver. \u201cWait! Please, wait!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou were cutting that mighty close,\u201d he told her as he opened the door for her. \u201cHurry up, lady, I\u2019ve got a schedule to keep.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks,\u201d she gasped breathlessly as she handed him her wrinkled ticket. \u201cI really appreciate\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGrab a seat\u2014now.\u201d He jerked his thumb backward.<\/p>\n As the bus lurched forward, Lena found an empty pair of seats near the back and quickly ducked in. Scooting next to the window, she clutched her handbag in her lap with trembling hands. That had been close. But she\u2019d made it.<\/p>\n Her stomach rumbled as the bus left the lights of Indianapolis behind. She\u2019d been lucky to snag two seats together. Maybe she could use the space to lie down and really sleep. Except that she was wide awake now. As if on high alert, she watched the bus zip out into the freeway traffic. They were moving so fast that Lena felt dizzy. Was the driver speeding, or was this just one more thing she\u2019d forgotten during her eight years in prison?<\/p>\n Lena tried to peer out the window, but due to the darkness outside and the reading light from the passenger in front of her, all she could see was her own dismal reflection. Pasty round face, weary blue eyes, and dishwater blonde hair in need of attention. She looked away and swallowed hard. Self- pity was something she\u2019d learned to suppress while incarcerated. It served no purpose and could even make an inmate appear weak. And weakness, she\u2019d learned early, was preyed upon. No, she\u2019d quickly decided, bitter was better. And perhaps it would be better here on the outside as well.<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t want to return to your hometown?\u201d Mrs. Stanfield, a volunteer social worker, had asked Lena last week. The older woman had been helping make arrangements for Lena\u2019s release. Getting out eighteen months early for good behavior had been a bit of a surprise to Lena, although she knew the women\u2019s correctional facility was getting crowded, and a number of inmates\u2014some with crimes much more serious than hers\u2014had been paroled. Plus, with Christmas less than four weeks away, perhaps a spirit of goodwill had warmed the hearts of the parole board. Whatever the case, suddenly it was time for Lena to reenter the world at large.<\/p>\n \u201cI want a fresh start in a new town,\u201d Lena had firmly told the volunteer. \u201cSomewhere far away from Willow Creek . . . somewhere outside of Indiana.\u201d<\/p>\n Mrs. Stanfield frowned. \u201cBut we have a much better success rate for parolees who return to their hometowns and families\u2014it\u2019s like a built-in support group.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot for me,\u201d Lena said. \u201cMy parents both passed away while I was in here. There\u2019s nothing for me back in Willow Creek.\u201d She didn\u2019t add that she suspected her parents\u2019 illnesses and subsequent deaths, within a year of each other, were partially due to the stress and shame she\u2019d thrust into their otherwise calm and slightly boring lives. They hadn\u2019t lasted long enough to hear the truth. Not that they\u2019d been listening\u2014not to Lena anyway.<\/p>\n \u201cSo where do you want to go?\u201d Mrs. Stanfield asked with concerned eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cTo be honest, I don\u2019t really care,\u201d Lena admitted.<\/p>\n The social worker shook her head as she studied the paperwork in front of her. \u201cI see here that you\u2019re only forty-three.\u201d She said this as if forty-three were young. \u201cAnd you seem intelligent and well-spoken . . . and is it true that you were a pastor\u2019s wife?\u201d She looked up with raised brows.<\/p>\n Lena sighed, averting her eyes until her gaze landed on a faded poster about STDs that was hanging lopsided on the bulletin board behind Mrs. Stanfield. The headline read, \u201cWhat You Don\u2019t Know Could Hurt You.\u201d Well, that seemed true enough.<\/p>\n Mrs. Stanfield cleared her throat. \u201cLena?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was just saying, how about if I put a release package together for you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA release package?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. I can choose what I think would be a suitable town for you, make your living arrangements, set up some temporary employment, get your transportation worked out. Would that be acceptable?\u201d<\/p>\n Lena slowly nodded. \u201cI would really appreciate that.\u201d<\/p>\n Mrs. Stanfield smiled as she closed the folder. \u201cThen we\u2019ll do our best and trust God with the rest. Right?\u201d \u201c<\/p>\n Right.\u201d Lena forced a smile, but as she thanked the woman, her voice sounded flat and lifeless to her own ears. When she returned to her cell, she decided not to think about her upcoming release anymore. It wasn\u2019t that she wanted to remain in prison. But at the same time, she couldn\u2019t imagine life beyond prison. In fact, she couldn\u2019t imagine life at all.<\/p>\n Today, when the head matron had handed Lena a rumpled grocery sack of used clothing\u2014which included this ugly purple parka with a broken zipper, a pair of black polyester pants, and a red acrylic turtleneck sweater\u2014Lena had wondered if she\u2019d been naive to allow someone else, even a kindly older lady, to make arrangements for her fate and future.<\/p>\n Now, as the bus sped north into what seemed the heart of this winter storm, Lena clutched the worn handles of the secondhand bag and wondered about the \u201crelease package\u201d tucked inside. Was she a fool to have trusted Mrs. Stanfield? But then, na\u00efvet\u00e9 had once been Lena\u2019s trademark. Even when her own trustfulness betrayed her and naive innocence deceived her, she still hadn\u2019t grasped the magnitude of her own gullibility.<\/p>\n Her stomach growled again, almost as if scolding her for oversleeping in the library. Of course, her laziness had cost her dinner\u2014her just deserts reminded her of her father\u2019s \u201cdiscipline\u201d when she broke his unbendable rules. He would scowl and remind her that \u201ca rod is reserved for the backs of fools.\u201d<\/p>\n Lena didn\u2019t want to think about that now. Instead she turned on her reading light and opened her oversize handbag. Despite the Ziploc of travel- size personal items and a large envelope that contained her \u201crelease package,\u201d the bag was mostly empty. And it smelled funny. She extracted the envelope and looked at it. Her future was contained inside this envelope\u2014it would likely be as bland as manila too.<\/p>\n \u201cYour destination is New Haven,\u201d the social worker had informed Lena as she met her outside the women\u2019s correctional facility earlier that day.<\/p>\n \u201cConnecticut?\u201d<\/p>\n Mrs. Stanfield shook her head. \u201cThere are actually a number of New Havens in the country. In this particular New Haven, a small town in northern Minnesota, I happen to have a friend who is willing to give you a job.\u201d As she drove Lena into town, she explained that a bus ticket, directions, names, and addresses were enclosed in the envelope. \u201cYou will also find a small amount of cash in there,\u201d she said before she dropped Lena off. \u201cBut you\u2019ll have to be extremely frugal until payday.\u201d<\/p>\n As it turned out, Lena had already been frugal by forgetting to purchase tonight\u2019s dinner. She flipped through the small stack of bills. Two twenties, one ten, two fives, and five ones\u2014a total of sixty-five dollars to last . . . how long? She tucked the cash into a zippered pocket and decided not to think about this either. So much not to think about. She vaguely wondered if the brain used more storage to repress memories than to remember them. She knew it took more energy.<\/p>\n \u201cExcuse me, do you mind if I sit here?\u201d<\/p>\n Lena looked up to see an elderly woman peering down at her. She had on a scarlet coat with white fur on the collar and cuffs\u2014very Christmassy in an odd Santa sort of way. Although it looked warm.<\/p>\n \u201cI, uh, no . . . I guess not.\u201d Lena reluctantly moved closer to the window. If she\u2019d been honest, she would\u2019ve told this woman that she did indeed mind\u2014 that this seat was hers and to just move on, thank you very much. Before doing time, Lena had considered herself to be scrupulously truthful. The kind of person who followed the rules. She corrected a cashier if she received too much change, never sneaked into a movie, and always waited when the sign said \u201cDon\u2019t Walk.\u201d Almost painfully honest. But prison had taught her how and when to lie. Nearly always for the sake of self-preservation. Now she wondered if it would be a hard habit to break\u2014or perhaps a habit to hold on to.<\/p>\n The old woman sighed as she eased herself into the other seat. \u201cI always feel that two women traveling alone are safer when they pair up. My name is Moira Phillips.\u201d She stuck out a gloved hand.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m Lena Markham.\u201d She gently shook the old woman\u2019s gloved hand. The smooth black gloves felt like good leather, soft and gently worn.<\/p>\n \u201cLena.\u201d Moira smiled. \u201cWhat a pretty name. I\u2019m reminded of the exquisite Lena Horne. Did your parents name you after her?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cActually, it\u2019s short for Helena.\u201d Lena set her purse between herself and the window as a safety precaution. Not that she actually thought this old woman was a thief, but she just didn\u2019t know. Cautious paranoia was another thing prison had taught her.<\/p>\n \u201cHelena is a lovely name too. But that Lena Horne . . . oh my, what a voice she had, and such a beautiful woman too. I saw all her movies when I was a girl. I just adored her. Goodness, I haven\u2019t thought of her in years. Have you seen any of her films?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not sure.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course, she was long before your time. But she was exquisite.\u201d Moira prattled on about some of the Lena Horne movies she recalled and which ones she had liked best or had seen twice. Lena pretended to listen, but mostly she wished she\u2019d had the guts to tell Moira that she was perfectly comfortable traveling alone and wanted these seats for herself. She wondered if it was too late.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you think she\u2019s still alive?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Lena realized Moira was expecting a response from her.<\/p>\n \u201cLena Horne. Do you suppose she\u2019s still alive?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have no idea.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe would be rather old though. At least ninety, I\u2019d venture.\u201d<\/p>\n Lena shrugged.<\/p>\n Moira attempted to peel off her big red coat and Lena offered a hand. \u201cThat\u2019s a nice coat,\u201d Lena said as she touched the furry cuff. \u201cIs that real fur?\u201d<\/p>\n Moira laughed. \u201cJust rabbit fur. My sister Lucille forced it on me when the weather snapped cold last week and I hadn\u2019t packed a warm overcoat. Then she insisted I wear it home today. I\u2019m sure she was only trying to get rid of it since her daughter-in-law gave it to her a few years ago and she never wore it. I only took it to make her happy. Do you really like it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, it looks warm anyway. And it\u2019s rather festive.\u201d Lena glanced at Moira\u2019s outfit\u2014a smoky blue tweed pantsuit with a gray turtleneck underneath and a pretty silk scarf tied loosely around her neck. A stylish contrast to the unusual coat.<\/p>\n \u201cSo, where are you headed, Lena?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNew Haven.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, wonderful! That\u2019s my final destination too.\u201d She patted Lena\u2019s hand as if this somehow connected them. \u201cAre you going there to visit someone for the holidays?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo . . . I, uh, I\u2019m actually relocating there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re moving to New Haven?\u201d<\/p>\n Lena nodded. \u201cHow about you? Are you visiting someone for the holidays?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, no. I was just visiting my sister Lucille over Thanksgiving. I\u2019m on my way home now. I live in New Haven.\u201d<\/p>\n Lena nodded again. She suddenly felt very tired, and more than ever she wished she had the courage to tell this woman that she really needed these two seats for herself.<\/p>\n \u201cSo what made you choose New Haven?\u201d Moira asked with curious eyes. \u201cDo you have relatives or friends there?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. I don\u2019t know anyone there.\u201d<\/p>\n Moira looked surprised. \u201cNo one? Then what made you want to move there? And so close to Christmastime too?\u201d<\/p>\n Lena pressed her lips together. She had a choice to make right now\u2014 either tell the truth and risk offending this seemingly nice woman, or concoct a story to make both of them feel better.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t mean to be nosy,\u201d Moira said quietly. \u201cIt just seems an odd time to be moving, especially when you don\u2019t know anyone in town.\u201d Lena took a quick breath. \u201cThe truth is I was just released from the women\u2019s correctional facility and I figured New Haven was as good a place as any.\u201d There, she\u2019d said it.<\/p>\n Moira blinked then slowly nodded as if absorbing this information. \u201cI see.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy parole came earlier than I expected, and I didn\u2019t want to go home. So I\u2019m off to a fresh start in New Haven.\u201d Lena forced a weak smile to soften the news.<\/p>\n Moira slowly pushed herself to her feet, and Lena felt certain that her truth tactic had succeeded\u2014who wanted to sit by an ex-con?\u2014but she wasn\u2019t sure whether to be happy or sad.<\/p>\n \u201cCan you help me get my bag up there?\u201d Moira pointed to the overhead storage on the opposite side.<\/p>\n \u201cYour bag?\u201d Lena frowned as she stood.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a bit heavy, I\u2019m afraid. And the cold is bothering the arthritis in my elbow.\u201d<\/p>\n Lena opened the storage area and waited as Moira pointed out a gray-and- white tapestry bag. \u201cThat one right there.\u201d<\/p>\n Lena reached up and pulled down the carry-on, holding it out toward Moira. She was curious as to the contents and why Moira suddenly had need of it. Hopefully she wasn\u2019t carrying some sort of self-defense weapon in there\u2014something to fend off a dangerous jailbird\u2014although the bus terminal security probably would\u2019ve noticed that sort of contraband in their scanner.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you.\u201d Moira balanced her bag on the armrest as Lena returned to her seat. To Lena\u2019s surprise, instead of scurrying off to a safer spot, Moira sat right back down next to Lena and proceeded to unzip her bag.<\/p>\n Lena pretended to stare out the window, but she was actually watching the reflection of this mysterious old woman as Moira pawed through the contents of her bag. \u201cAh, here it is.\u201d She held up a rumpled brown paper sack.<\/p>\n Lena continued gazing toward the window. Perhaps she should simply excuse herself to the restroom and then find another seat. \u201cAre you hungry, dear?\u201d Lena turned and stared at Moira, who held out what looked like a thick, tasty sandwich encased in plastic wrap. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy sister wouldn\u2019t think of putting me on the bus without enough food for several days.\u201d She chuckled. \u201cLucille is certain the bus could get stuck somewhere and I\u2019d die of starvation. Would you care for a sandwich?\u201d<\/p>\n Lena looked longingly at the neatly wrapped sandwich. The bread appeared to be sourdough and she spied lettuce and tomato peeking out the edges.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s turkey from Thanksgiving. And Swiss cheese, I believe she said.\u201d<\/p>\n Lena\u2019s mouth was literally watering now. Too nervous to eat lunch at the penitentiary, she hadn\u2019t had anything since breakfast, and even then she\u2019d mostly just picked at the lukewarm, lumpy oatmeal. \u201cThank you,\u201d she said as she took the sandwich. \u201cI\u2019m actually pretty hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you might be.\u201d Moira reached into the bag to produce an identical sandwich. \u201cWe also have an orange and an apple and some pretzels and a couple of candy bars.\u201d She chuckled. \u201cI told Lucille that I couldn\u2019t possibly eat all this, but she insisted.\u201d<\/p>\n Lena was ashamed of herself as she slowly unwrapped the sandwich. To think that she\u2019d almost shooed Moira away. Here this kind woman was generous enough to share food\u2014really good food too. In fact, if Lena hadn\u2019t already given up on old ideals of faith and God\u2019s goodness, she might\u2019ve even wondered if Moira could possibly be an angel in disguise. As it was, she didn\u2019t think it likely.<\/p>\n