“That’s her greatest wish?” he asked.
Kate stared at the painting, haunting in shades of white, wheat, and gray. The girl in the bed reminded her of herself: thin with long brown hair, filled with constant yearning. She could never have expressed that to her father or anyone. No one thought of her as a girl in bed; she was an athlete, always on a tennis court, a sailboat, or skis. She laughed; she didn’t moon. At least those were the things she showed the world.
“Kate?” her father prodded. He stood beside her, tall and lean, the handsomest man she knew. He wore a navy-and-black houndstooth jacket from Allen Collins, gray flannels, and loafers without socks. He had a narrow face with a crooked nose and deeply sensitive hazel eyes always ready to smile. His hair was short and full, brown with white starting to come in.Silver threads among the gold,he would joke.
“Her fondest wish is to get out of the bed and run,” Kate said. “And do something exciting.”
“That’s my girl,” he said. “You still think it’s a hope chest?”
“It’s a blanket chest. For when the nights get cold. When it’s winter.”
“That’s what I think too,” he said.
They always had lunch at the Hartford Club, with its brick facade and arched windows, just across Prospect Street from the Atheneum. He seemed proud to show her off—she’d wear a dress, and he’d ask people if they didn’t think she had long legs like a thoroughbred. She had often been conscious of thinking she had been lucky to be there alone with him, that he’d taken her and not their mother or Beth, but it had made her feel guilty at the same time.
Speeding past the Colt Armory with its dark-blue star-dazzled dome and the ghosts of makers of firearms, she couldn’t help glancing at the Hartford skyline, trying in a split second to locate the museum and the club. Memories flooded into her just like the dam her dad had told her about that had broken in 1936, nearly washed away Hartford and his parents’ home, drowned an aunt he’d never meet. He had grown up with the family’s legacy and fear and hatred of that flood and all it had taken.
“We’re getting closer,” Kate said to Lulu.
“Are you okay?” Lulu asked.
“Yes.”
“Because it seems like you might not be. In fact, how could you be? It’s a big deal seeing him.”
As she listened to Lulu’s words, Kate’s heart began to harden again. To purposely do without someone you loved was a big deal. But so was setting in motion a crime that would destroy his family.
She took one of the last exits before the Massachusetts border. The maximum-security prison was set back from a main road, down a long driveway. Two rows of tall anchor fences topped with triple coils of razor wire surrounded the premises. The visitors’ parking lot was clearly marked. It was crowded, but Kate noticed a steady stream of people, mostly women, leaving the building, getting into their cars. Kate imagined them visiting husbands, boyfriends, sons, fathers—all incarcerated just like her father.
“I don’t know how to do this,” Kate said, staring at the brick building. “The procedures. I should have called to see about visiting hours.”
“I’m sure they’ll tell you when you get to the door,” Lulu said. “Are you nervous?”
Kate nodded.
Lulu hugged her hard. “I’ll wait in the car,” she said. “Take your time.”
Kate walked down a sidewalk, past a sign:
NO WEAPONS
NO CELL PHONES
MODEST DRESS
Despite the number of people leaving, there was a line, again mostly women, many holding grocery bags. One by one they went through metal detectors. Correctional officers stood talking to each other while watching the visitors enter.
“Who are you visiting?” a guard at the desk asked Kate.
“Garth Woodward,” she said.
“Your name?”
“Kate Woodward,” she said, watching him scan a computer screen. “Why?”
“You have to be on his visitors list.”
“I’m not,” she said.
