“I fear that will be a while.” She tossed the pen onto her stack of papers and pulled out a desk drawer, digging inside until she snatched up an envelope. “The prison is on lockdown due to the rapid spread of fevers, and all their men are in isolation because of the polio outbreak. Buttermilk Sullivan’s contracted it, and they don’t know if the poor soul will make it. They’ve lost fivemen already.”
“Polio,” I barely breathed, horrified for the kind maintenance man.Did Jackson have it? Was he even alive?
“Poor Mr. Sullivan.” She kissed her teeth, tsking. “Well, I believe we covered everything today. And now you’ve been given arebirth. Well done, Prison Book Woman. I’ll see the crate is delivered to your library in the morning.” She turned her attention back to the pile of papers and dismissed me.
With the news that my husband could be suffering—or worse—I felt the life leave me, the coldness cloaking, twisting and knotting as I reached out a hand wildly and latched on to the warden’s desk for support.
“Lovett?Lovett.” She shot up and stepped back. “Are you sick?”
Quickly I righted my spine and pressed the book to my chest. “I apologize for the alarm, Warden. I’m just a little weak-kneed from skipping breakfast, and it’s, uh, well, my—” I looked down and mumbledmonthly, then turned toward the door before she could see the lie in my eyes and the color bruising my face.
“Strawberries in season again. Well, I don’t missthat.” I heard the snap of paper and her sliding chuckle.
That.“Ma’am?” I looked back at her.
She frowned.
“That! Your…whatever your kind calls it,” Warden said, flicking her wrist. “That. That.Straw. Ber. Ries.” She clamped her teeth, loudly annunciating the word.
“That,” I repeated stupidly, the word pummeling and taking root, to land uneasy in the pit of my belly.
Eighteen
Waldeen shoved the bowl of bright-red berries closer to me.
Wrinkling my nose, I pushed it aside and clutched the letter from Honey I’d been reading.
The lawyer sent news of the judge’s order declaring Honey had won her emancipation, and I was thrilled for her. My daughter had asked permission to see a boy. It warmed my heart that she would even bother to ask, since the state now considered her an adult and free of her parents’ control.
“A picnic with a boy,” I repeated to the old madam.
“Read it to me again, kid,” the older woman urged, hungry for any news outside the cheerless walls.
I tapped the envelope to my chest, savoring the rare letter from home. Pressing my thumb across the three-cent stamp, I peered closer at the details of the 4H postage. Studied the drawing of the smart-dressed smiling girl and boy and the rolling hills in the distance, imagining the same for Honey.
I chewed over the words, rereading.
June ’53
Dear Mama,
I received your letter. I’m sleeping and eating well enough. I’ve been working a lot but I still love deliveringbooks with Junia. There’s 19 families on my route with more signing up each week. Oh, how they hanker for their new books!
It makes me happy to knowyouryou’re working with the books and growing patrons again. Is Papa well?? I never heard back from him after we talked on the telephone. But I’m seeing Francis now since he gave his permission when we talked.
I’m taking good care of the cabin and critters. Devil John came over two weeks ago and helped me shore up Junia’s stall after the rains took out the left side. The creek spilled out of its banks, almost to the corn! The weather finally cleared last Sunday and Francis asked me out on a picnic near the forks of Troublesome Creek.
But it was adisaterDisaster!
Junia! She ruined everything! She is the mostoneryOrnerycreature in all of Kentucky!! She kicked Francis’s bowl of his Mama’s prized banana pudding clean into the creek. Then when I tried to give Francis a sandwich, she took her big ugly teeth and tugged hard on his hair. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, Junia plopped her stinky butt smack down between us on his clean picnic blanket and wouldn’t budge. When poor Francis tried to shine up to her, the wicked beast stood and peed on his polished boots! I scolded her but she sassed me right back and went running off. By the time we caught up with her, the ants had invaded our picnic!
Junia is so ill-tempered around Francis he’s decided to take me to aresturautrestaurant for our next date. I fear she will never warm to him, Mama. Please let me know how Papa won her over.
I have a long route tomorrow and must close for now. I love you and can’t wait to see you again. Write back soon!
Your loving daughter,
Honey Mary-Angeline Lovett
