“This is fine.” How she managed to voice the words around the parched mouth and tight lips amazed her. She opened the single page and had to re-read the beginning twice.
Dear Val,
I realize you don’t want to hear from me. But I felt that writing you would go a long way toward your healing… and mine.
You may or may not have heard that I come up for parole in two weeks. I want you to know that I have no intention of seeking parole.
In the five years since I have been in prison, I have developed a close relationship with our chaplain. About six months ago, I came to know Christ as my personal Lord and Savior.
I know this seems strange. I was such an evil man before. But, since then, I’ve worked hard to make changes in my life, in my heart, in my mind. Writing you and telling you was of the utmost importance to me.
I know you won’t feel safe until I am able to prove the changes inside of me. I know there is no recompense for what I did to you, but I pray that by finishing my complete sentence, you can have a little extra time of peace.
That is why I will not go before the parole board.
I pray that you can forgive me someday. There is nothing I can do or say to make up for what I have done but I beg you to forgive me.
Yours in Christ,
Tyrone
Valerie felt tears streaming down her face as she wadded the paper up in one hand and jammed it into her pocket.
“Valerie?” Buddy asked, his face drawn with worry.
“No.” She shook her head. “No, no, no. No way. No.”
Escape. Just run.
Whirling, she ran to her car, pulling her keys out of her pocket. She glanced over at the apartments as she drove out of the parking lot and saw Brad standing with Buddy, looking after her with a look of confusion on his face.
Brad waited in the livingroom while Valerie went into the kitchen to make tea. Normally, he would have followed her into the room and watched her work, but he sensed she needed some space. His unannounced arrival three minutes before had thrown her off somehow.
Buddy had convinced him to come after her. He didn’t go into any detail except to say she’d received a letter that upset her. He gave her twenty minutes, and when she didn’t come back to the apartments, he decided to go to her house. He used the excuse of returning her picnic basket to her.
Next to her keys, he saw the crumpled envelope and could make out the “Department of Corrections” on the return address. His stomach hurt at thoughts of what the letter might contain. Threats? Insults? Accusations?
Valerie finally came back into the room, carrying two steaming mugs. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes told him she’d been crying. Even so, she didn’t appear extra jumpy or on edge. Instead, he could detect a slow simmer of fury. Despite that, she calmly handed him his mug.
“Thanks.” He took a cautious sip and tasted peppermint. “What happened?”
“No small talk with you. Just cut to the chase,” she said, moving to the chair. She set her untouched cup of tea on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the chair cushion. “I got a letter.”
“That’s what Buddy said.” He sat on the couch close enough to her that he could reach out and touch her if she needed him to. “From?”
“From Tyrone.” She said his name in a whisper, then cleared her throat. “They sent the letter to Buddy’s address because mine is not accessible.”
“Right.” They sat in silence for several minutes until Brad said, “What did the letter say?”
She leaned back into the chair and covered her eyes with the palms of her hands. “I don’t even know how to start.”
He reached out and put a hand on her knee. “How can I help?”
“You can explain to me how fair it is that I have to share eternity with Tyrone Baker.”
Maybe he’d expected her to say something shocking, but not that. “I beg your pardon?”
She surged to her feet and crossed the room, snatching the letter up and coming back, tossing it into his lap. “Read it yourself.”
