Camp sat looking him over in a way Lee didn’t like. “I have a request from Morgan Blake.”
Lee waited. Why tell him about Blake’s problems?
“Blake wants you to accompany him on his wife’s visiting days, says she’d like to meet you.”
“Why would she do that? What the hell is that about? Visiting is for families.” Why would Blake want him there during that private time? Why would the woman want to meet him?
“It’s an unusual request,” Camp said. “Did you know Blake before you were transferred to Atlanta?”
“Never heard of him. Why would I want to get involved in someone else’s family?”
Camp leaned back until his wooden chair creaked. “You’ve gotten friendly with Blake pretty fast.”
“He’s a nice enough kid. But visiting day? I don’t think so.”
Camp just looked at him.
“I listen to him,” Lee said, “the kid needs someone to vent to, but I sure didn’t put it in his head to meet his family.”
“Morgan says that talking to you has helped him accept his situation. You think you’re some kind of counselor?”
“I listen good,” Lee said, hiding his amusement.
“Whatever you’re doing,” Camp said, “seems to be working. I’ve noticed a change in Blake.”
“So what do I get, a medal? Maybe I can counsel the whole family.”
Camp gave him another long, hard gaze. Lee was about to rise and leave, but his curiosity got the best of him. What harm would it do, a few minutes in the visiting room? It might answer some questions about the way Blake watched him, frowning and puzzled. “What the hell,” he said. “I can give it a try.”
Camp studied him, made a notation on a pad, and handed Lee a list of visiting hours. Lee moved on out of the office wondering why he’d agreed. Wondering why Blake had made the request. If there was something Morgan knew that Lee didn’t, maybe now he’d find out.
Bushed from the cotton mill, he skipped supper and headed for his cell. One day on the job and his cough was bad. His body ached, his head pounded, he knew he should have taken the kitchen job.
But he wasn’t going to call it quits, he’d wear a damned handkerchief around his face, he’d get used to the noise.
In the cellblock, as he climbed the metal stairs and moved in through his barred door, his bunk looked mighty good. He collapsed onto it, his strength gone. He was getting old. The thought sent a chill through him. He was deep asleep when Misto dropped onto the cot and stretched out beside him, lying close, listening to Lee’s ragged breathing.
“She will come now,” the cat whispered, placing a soft paw on Lee’s cheek, sending his words deep into Lee’s dreams. “The child will come now. You’ll know soon enough why Morgan watches you. You’ll know soon enough why, all these years, you’ve carried Mae’s picture with you. You’ll begin to see now that you can defeat the dark spirit. You will take strength not only from me, but from the child.”
LEE DIDN’T WAKE until morning, to the sounds of men starting the day, coughing and grumbling, the water running, an angry shout, springs creaking and metal clanging. He washed, dressed, stood for the count and then headed for breakfast. Collecting his tray, he found Morgan already at a small table.
“What’s that about?” he said, setting down his tray. “Why would your wife want me to visit? What kind of scam is this?”
Morgan looked down at his plate, his face coloring. “Actually, it’s my child who wants you there, it’s Sammie who asked for you.”
Lee scowled at him. “How does your kid even know about me? What have you told her? Why would . . . ?”
Morgan drizzled syrup over his pancakes. “I didn’t tell her anything about you. She . . . she dreamed about you. She . . . said you came here from California.”
Lee looked hard at him.
“She’s only a little girl,” Morgan said, forking pancakes. The clatter of breakfast dishes and the staccato of men’s voices echoed around them, bouncing off the concrete walls. “She . . . Sammie has these dreams. About people, about things that will happen. Sometimes,” he said, looking almost shyly at Lee, “sometimes her dreams turn out to be real.”
“What do you mean, real?” Lee said uneasily.
“She knows what you look like. She knows you worked in the desert, driving a truck, and she dreamed of you flying in a small, open plane. She knows you, Lee, though you’ve never met.”
Morgan’s words chilled Lee, pulled a memory from deep within and nearly forgotten, incidents from childhood that he’d put away from him, that he hadn’t wanted to think about. Secrets came alive again, his sister Mae’s secrets when she would whisper her dreams to him, dreams that later turned out to be real.
Once Mae told him that their milk cow, Lucy, would birth triplet calves, and triplet calves were rare. Lucy bore three live calves, all healthy little bull calves. The predictions frightened Mae; she would tell them shyly, painfully but earnestly, only hoping the adults would listen. Once she told Pa that he’d better fix the roof of the hay barn before the next snow or it would cave it in. Pa didn’t fix the roof. In the heavy winter it did collapse, ruined half a barn full of good hay, but luckily none of the animals was hurt. Pa was angry at Mae that the roof fell in, like it was her fault, and that was the last dream she ever told Pa.
By the time Lee left home, either the dreams had stopped or Mae stopped talking about them. Pa grew angry if she mentioned a dream, and their mother didn’t want to hear it, either. Lee was the only one who listened, uncomfortably, then he’d put the dreams away from him. Mae never knew how much they frightened him, this seeing into the future, predicting a future that hadn’t yet happened, that no one should be able to see. Now again the shadowed memories from that long-ago time filled him. “Your little girl dreams of something that hasn’t happened?” he asked softly.
Morgan nodded. “She described you exactly. She dreams of you and feels close to you. She wants you there on visiting day,” he said awkwardly.
Lee shivered.
“She’s only nine, Lee. She’s my child and I love her and she has these dreams, that’s all I can say. What will it hurt to humor her?”
“She dreamed about me because you talked about me.” Lee said nothing about Mae, he wasn’t telling Morgan about Mae.
Morgan laid down his fork, fixing his attention on Lee. “I never talked about you. I never mentioned you. I can’t explain why she dreams of you. She dreamed of you and me talking together in the automotive shop.”
“That’s because you told her you were working there. That’s where she pictures you, in a place like your shop in Rome.”
“In her dream there was a red Buick roadster up on the rack.”
“How would a little girl know a Buick roadster from a hay wagon?”
Morgan smiled. “She helps . . . used to help me in the shop, handing me tools. From the time I came home from the navy she’s hung around the shop, she knows all my automotive tools. She knows the makes of most cars, she can stand on the street and rattle off the make, model, and year of nearly every car that passes.
“It was hard on her,” Morgan said, “being without a father. Hard on all the service kids, those years without a dad to lean on and to learn from. Becky took the best care of her, but when I got home Sammie clung to me, wanted to be with me in the shop.” Morgan shook his head. “We were so happy, the three of us together again, our life starting again as it should be. And then, long before the robbery and murder, Sammie dreamed about me being locked behind prison bars.