CHAPTER 37
The hallway leadingto the visitation room was long and narrow, painted a pale institutional green that had faded to something closer to gray. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a harsh, flat glare that made Naomi’s eyes ache.
Deputy Wallace—a stocky woman in her fifties with gray streaks in her hair and an expression that suggested she’d seen everything and been impressed by none of it—walked ahead of them.
“This way,” she said.
Naomi followed, Grace heavy and warm in her arms. Micah walked beside her, close enough that his shoulder occasionally brushed hers. She was grateful for that. For the reminder that she wasn’t alone in this place.
They passed through two more sets of locked doors, each one buzzing and clicking open after Deputy Wallace swiped her badge. The sound echoed down the empty corridors—metallic, final.
Naomi’s pulse quickened with each step.
The visiting room was smaller than she’d expected. A row of individual stations lined the far wall, each one separated bydividers. Plexiglass partitions ran to the ceiling, scarred and cloudy from years of use. Black phones hung on hooks on either side, just like she’d seen on TV.
Only two stations were occupied. A man in an orange jumpsuit sat at one, speaking quietly into the phone while a woman on the other side wiped tears from her face. At the other, a younger inmate leaned back in his chair, laughing at something the teenager across from him said.
Wallace gestured to an empty station near the end. “You’ll be here. She’ll be brought out in a minute.”
Naomi nodded and moved to the chair, settling Grace more securely in her arms. The baby was awake now, her dark eyes drifting across the ceiling. Micah stood a few feet back, giving her space but staying close enough to intervene if needed.
A few seconds later, a door opened on the far side of the room, and Sissy shuffled through.
She looked terrible.
Her hair hung limp and greasy around her face. Her skin was pale, almost gray, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. The orange jumpsuit hung loose on her frame, like she’d lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose.
But it was her eyes that hit Naomi the hardest.
They were hollow, exhausted, and desperate.
Sissy’s gaze found Grace, and her face crumpled.
She crossed the room quickly, stumbling slightly, and dropped into the chair on the other side of the glass. Her hands came up, pressing flat against the plexiglass, fingers splayed wide as if she could reach through it if she just tried hard enough.
Naomi’s throat tightened. She lifted the phone receiver with one hand, balancing Grace with the other.
Sissy grabbed the phone on her side, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Her voice cracked as she said, “She’s—she’s so big.”
“She’s growing every day.”
Sissy’s hand stayed pressed against the glass, and Naomi shifted Grace so she was facing forward, so Sissy could see her face.
Grace blinked at the glass and made a small cooing sound.
Tears began spilling down Sissy’s cheeks, and she pressed her forehead against the plexiglass, her shoulders shaking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, baby. I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t?—”
Naomi’s own eyes burned. “She’s okay, Sissy. She’s safe. I promise.”
Sissy sat up straighter, nodded and wiped at her face with the back of her hand, smearing tears across her cheek.
“What . . . ?” She stopped, swallowed, tried again. “What are you calling her? I couldn’t decide on a name. I’m sorry. I just felt overwhelmed.”
Naomi hesitated, unsure how the name would go over. “I’ve been calling her Grace.”
Sissy’s expression shifted into surprise and then something softer. “Grace?”
“Yes. If you want to change it, that’s okay. I just—I don’t know. Something about the name felt right.”
