?What? What are you getting at?? But Lee felt the cat curl up as if he?d tucked his head under, and in a moment the ghost was softly snoring. Lee smiled, turned over easy so as not to disturb him, and soon they both slept, Lee drifting off to Misto?s rumbling purr, soothed in his apprehension of the days to come.
9
DRIVING SOUTH TO the Atlanta Penitentiary to visit Morgan for the first time, Becky made herself sick thinking every ugly thought about his life inside, so upsetting herself that her driving was off. Twice, passing another car on the two-lane highway, she had to swerve fast into a tight space to avoid hitting an oncoming vehicle. She felt as if she was turning into one of those women so ruled by sick nerves they couldn?t do anything right.
Coming into Atlanta, where they would be moving in a few days, driving down Peachtree and on south through mixed commercial and small cottages, she was shaky, her hands unsteady on the wheel. When she drew into the parking area outside the prison wall she sat in the car for a long time trying to pull herself together. She felt so nauseous she was afraid if she went in she?d be sick in the visiting room.
Thinking about leaving Rome didn?t help, about leaving Caroline, thinking how much she depended on her mother?to take care of Sammie, but most of all tobe there for them. Caroline was her friend, her best friend except for Morgan. Life was shattered without Morgan and now would be more empty still without Caroline nearby.
But at least living in Atlanta she?d be closer to Morgan, not an all-day trip to visit him. She and Sammie could run over to the prison in just a few minutes, she thought bitterly, just swing by the prison after school like any mother and child.
She got out of the car at last, feeling the stare of the guards from their towers. They would be wondering why she?d sat there for so long. Would they call down for extra security measures because she seemed suspicious? Her neck prickling from their stares, she hurried up the walk, up the steps. She pressed a buzzer, waited for the lock to click, and pushed through the iron door into a six-foot-square sally port, bars and heavy glass trapping her in the small space.
Through the slot in a thick glass barrier she told the guard her name and Morgan?s name. A second guard stepped out of the glassed area, a tall, pale-haired man who asked for her purse. She watched, embarrassed, as he searched around a pack of tampons. Satisfied she wasn?t carrying a weapon he handed it back and motioned her through a door into the prison?s visiting room.
The room didn?t look anything like part of a prison, was far more welcoming than she had expected: tan tweed carpeting, white walls, beige couches, and soft chairs set about in little groups. Half of the seating was already occupied, wives and children, elderly couples, each group gathered around an inmate dressed in prison blue. Most of the men were somber and withdrawn even among their friends and family. One man was so emotional, hugging his wife and children, he was almost in tears. Only two of the prisoners seemed relaxed and at home, chatting away, one man holding two little boys on his lap. She chose an empty couch, stood beside it watching an inner door where Morgan would most likely enter.
What would they talk about? For the first time in their lives she couldn?t be open with him. She didn?t want to tell him about her aborted effort to question Natalie Hooper. She was so sorry she?d done that. And she didn?t dare tell him how Falon had come to Caroline?s and gone after Sammie.
She didn?t understand Falon. If he wantedher, Becky, as he?d always said, why did he go after Sammie? Caroline said he showed psychopathic tendencies; Becky had to agree but the thought terrified her. She could cope with a normal person, but how did you deal with a psychopath?
She couldn?t tell Morgan about this morning at work, before she left for Atlanta. Couldn?t tell him that Falon had cornered her in the storeroom of Rome Hardware as she was getting together the bills to do their books. He must have waited hidden behind the shelves of stock as she came in. She was standing at an open file drawer when he grabbed her from behind and backed her against the shelves, his voice a low whisper.
?Keep your mouth shut, I can hurt you bad.? His slimy tone sickened her. ?You haven?t any man in your bed now, Becky.?
She came alive, kicking him and shouting. He slapped his hand over her mouth. She bit him so hard he grunted and slapped her again, harder. She yelled louder, so the clerks up front had to hear her.?Get out of here! Help! Help me!? When footsteps came pounding he slammed her against the wall, spun away, and was gone, vanishing between the shelves. She heard the back door open and scrape closed, heard the latch click.
The storeroom was empty, only her fear remained.
She had gotten through the confusion with the two clerks and the assistant manager who came running in, had fielded their questions, begged them not to call the police. She?d said she didn?t know who the man was. The Rome police would do nothing to help her, she couldn?t handle their patronization, and she didn?t want Falon?s added rage if she filed a report on him. When she?d mollified the staff, calmed them down, she?d hurried home to Caroline?s to change clothes, to head for Atlanta.
When she told Caroline what had happened, her mother said,?That settles it. You?ll have to move down to Anne?s.?
?But??
?I talked with her this morning. She was??
?She doesn?t want us, Mama.?
?Let?s say she was reluctant. She?ll get over it. You have to go, as soon as you can, at least until you find an apartment. As long as you?re here Falon won?t leave you alone, won?t leave Sammie alone.?
Caroline put her arm around Becky.?Anne will soften up once you?re settled in. Once she gets to know you better, and gets to know Sammie.?
Becky said nothing more. This plan would have to do for the moment.
?We can trade cars,? Caroline said, ?I keep mine in the garage, he can?t see in there. I always drive the van. I?ll leave your car out, park it in different parts of the drive so he knows it?s being used.?
?It will take me a while to wrap up my accounts,? Becky said, ?to give notice and pack a few things.? The thought of moving in with Anne unwanted wasn?t pleasant, she felt like a charity case.
?When you?re ready, we?ll pack the car at night and you can leave before dawn. You said Natalie and Falon sleep late??
Becky nodded.?I think so, as much as I can tell from the street.? She?d driven by Natalie?s apartment several mornings, looking up at the windows. The curtains were never open until midmorning, and twice when she drove by at midnight she?d seen the living room and kitchen lights burning. Maybe she could slip away before daylight without Falon knowing.
NOW SHE WATCHED the door into the visiting room open, repeatedly letting other prisoners through, but all were strangers. She watched openly as inmates, each with a black identification number stenciled on his shirt, were hugged and kissed and made over. She needed Morgan to comfort and hold her; and she couldn?t imagine how lost he felt, lost and alone. She didn?t want to think what his life was like within these high, cold walls.
She?d promised herself she?d tell him only hopeful things, that she?d make the move to Atlanta sound like exciting news: She?d be near the prison, she could come every visiting day. If she found a lawyer in Atlanta it would be easier to see him often. But she?d have to lie to him, tell him Anne had invited her. Of course he?d ask questions; he knew the cool relationship between Anne and Caroline. Maybe she could distract him with the four Atlanta attorneys she?d seen this week. She?d leave the best one for last, she thought, smiling.
When a guard ushered Morgan in, for an instant she didn?t recognize him: another reserved figure in prison blues, his eyes cast down, his face expressionless, his hands limp at his sides, his walk stilted as if every ounce of fight had been taken from him.