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But it’s not about my mom’s parole.
It’s something much worse.
“I’m afraid there was an incident at the prison today. Your mother’s been injured. She’s in the infirmary, about to go in for surgery. Please call me as soon as possible.”
Chapter 39
I startle awake for what must be the fifth time, the beeping of medical monitors piercing my light doze. At first, I think I’m dreaming. I pray that I am—even as I open my dry eyes and see the green walls of the Muncy State Prison infirmary.
But it’s not a bad dream. After a dangerous fall down a flight of stairs during her morning work shift in the prison laundry, my mother is now only an hour out of surgery for multiple broken bones and a pierced lung. I am seated on a hard plastic chair, my arms folded under my head like a pillow on the lowered side rail of her hospital bed while she rests on an oxygen tube and medically sedated. I try not to notice the handcuff that shackles her left arm—her only limb without any fractures—to the bed. The prisoner recovering from surgery across the room from my mom is also restrained to her bed.
The door to the room is open. As I lift my head and blink away my exhaustion, the public defender quietly steps inside.
“Is there any word from the doctor?” I ask, sitting up to speak to him.
Stadler nods. “I’ve just come from meeting with him now. Surgery and a couple of titanium pins took care of her femur fracture, which was the worst of the breaks. The others should heal up in time. They’ll be starting her on a physical therapy program as soon as her lung is recovered.”
A tear rolls down my face as I glance at her in the bed. I swipe my cheek, hating that she’s here, knowing that she doesn’t deserve this. None of it.
“What does this mean for the parole board review?”
Stadler runs a hand over his balding head. “The doctor wants her under observation until her lung is healed, which he said could be up to a week.”
“The parole meeting is in a few days,” I remind him. “She’s
counting on it. She’ll be devastated if that appointment doesn’t happen.”
“I know she’s going to be disappointed. We’d all like to see her plead her case for the board, Avery. And she will. Let’s focus on getting your mother strong and back on her feet first. We can reapply with the parole review board once Brenda is ready.”
I want to scream at him that she’s ready now. My mother would wheel herself to the meeting in this hospital bed if she were given the chance. Hell, I would roll her in there, too—assuming she’d permit me anywhere near the judicial system to try to help win her freedom.
She likely won’t be happy to know I’m here now either.
She’s been protective of me all my life, but even more so after she realized what her second husband had done to me. She’s sacrificed everything to keep me safe, to keep me shielded from any pain. It breaks my heart that there is so little I can do for her now.
Stadler checks his watch and awkwardly clears his throat. “Unfortunately, visiting time is ending in about ten minutes, Avery. I’ve got to get going, but if you need a ride somewhere—”
“No, thanks. I drove down from the city. My rental car is in the visitor lot.”
“Well, you have my number if there’s anything you’d like to discuss. I’ve got another client meeting across town, so I really should be going.”
I stand up and shake his offered hand. “Thank you for letting me know about this.”
“I’ll keep you informed,” he tells me as he heads out the door. “Your mom’s a tough lady. And she loves you more than anything.”
I nod, knowing it’s true. And I love her more than anything too. There was a time when I’d have said I love her more than anyone else in my life . . . but that was before I met Nick.
Just thinking about him puts a cold ache of longing in my breast. And regret.
I haven’t spoken to him since we parted last night. After Stadler’s call this morning, my primary concern had been my mom. I left Vendange and raced to the nearest rental car agency, then drove more than three hours to Pennsylvania.
I haven’t spoken to anyone since I arrived at Muncy. The prison policy prohibits visitors from bringing in all manner of things when visiting an inmate, so for the past several hours, my purse and cell phone have been secured at the registration desk.
I know I need to call Nick and tell him where I am. I need to tell him what happened.
I need to ask him to forgive me for all of the things I’ve kept from him, fearing he wouldn’t want me once he knew my truths.
Now I’m terrified that I’ve lost him because of everything I haven’t said.
