With Love from the Inside (25 page)

“The invitations have been mailed and the clubhouse confirmed,” Mindy said. She sat across from Sophie in her living room. The smell of sausage and shrimp jambalaya drifted over them as they worked. “The only thing left to do is make sure the chefs show up and the people of West Lake bring fountain pens to write big fat checks.”

“No kidding.” Sophie tried to pay attention to Mindy, but when Mindy was going over the secret-auction items, Sophie read the blog on the Innocence Project's website.
Three hundred sixteen inmates exonerated and counting.
She'd sent them three letters about her mom's case since she came home from the hospital. She made a mental note to send the fourth.

“Yoo-hoo.” Mindy waved her hand in Sophie's face. “Earth to Sophie.”

“Sorry, I'm having a hard time concentrating.” Sophie picked up her checklist. “Thank God the clubhouse was open. Much less work than having it here.”

“You've been having much more important ‘events' in your home,” Mindy said, pointing to Sophie's stomach. She air-quoted the word
events
, and then raised her hand to give Sophie a high-five.

Sophie laughed. “You're such a guy.” She appreciated Mindy's attempt to lighten her mood.

“Give me some credit,” Thomas interrupted as he walked in from the kitchen.

Mindy held her fist to bump his.

“The cornbread will be done in about ten minutes,” Thomas said. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Smells delicious, but I have to get home to the twins.”

“What's gotten into him?” Mindy winked at Sophie as Thomas went to stir something on top of the stove. “Quite the chef.”

“He loves to cook now. Home by six and meal on the table by seven-thirty.” Sophie glanced in the kitchen to make sure he couldn't overhear. “He does everything for me. I think he's scared something's going to happen to the baby.”

“Your doctor said everything's okay, right?”

“Yes. I saw Dr. Johnson today and my blood pressure's fine. Baby's heartbeat is strong. I'm about fifteen weeks.”

“Are you still on bed rest?”

“Modified, I guess. The doctor told me my first priority has to be the health of the baby. I'm not supposed to worry.”

“Easy for your doctor to say.” Mindy scrunched her forehead and nose. “Doctors can be so blunt sometimes,” she whispered, so Thomas couldn't hear her. “At least the fund-raiser is on autopilot now. Don't worry about a thing. Just show up on February fourteenth and enjoy.”

Sophie pulled out the calendar on her iPhone to count the days.

“Twenty-four days until the fund-raiser.” Twenty-five days until . . .
That won't happen. That can't happen.

The phone rang as Thomas was taking the cornbread out of the oven. “I'll get it.”

Sophie prayed it was Ben with some good news. She helped Mindy gather the last of her papers and gave her a quick hug.

“Can I use your restroom?”

“You know where it is,” Sophie told her.

Mindy closed the restroom door just as Thomas said, “Of course we'll accept the charges.”

You know all of what happened next, but I had to write it down. I had to make sure every moment we shared was documented. I couldn't bear the thought of forgetting even one second.

“Of course we'll accept the charges.” My son-in-law's deep voice reminded me of your history I hadn't been a part of.

“Hi, Thomas. It's Grace.” I willed my cracking voice to be strong.

“How are you?” His voice sounded anxious. I don't think he expected this phone call to be from me.

“Did Ben tell you I was going to call?”

“No. I mean, yes. He said he gave you our number, but not to get our hopes up you'd be allowed to call.”

“I'm surprised, too.” I fidgeted with the cord. He wasn't the only one anxious. “I don't have much time. Is Sophie there?”

He hesitated, so I asked again. “Is she there?”

“She's saying good-bye to a friend. Let me get her.”

Thomas covered the receiver, but I could hear his muffled voice. “Take this in the study. I'll get rid of Mindy.”

My darn legs started trembling so much I had to brace my back against the wall.
Breathe,
I told myself. A large part of this moment felt as foreign as the first time I met you.
Mom, meet your new baby
girl.
The masked doctor placed your red-blotched skin on top of mine.
Look, she has your long fingers.

I didn't know that baby any more than I know you now. Did you want to talk to me? It's taking forever. Did you have company? Did they know about me?

The recording announced, “Thirteen minutes.” I looked for Officer Mackey. He's at his desk, reading the newspaper.

Finally, I heard a click on the other line.

“Mom?”

Your voice sounded fragile, but I'd have recognized it anywhere.

“It's me,” I said.

Your next words sounded like they could break. “I can't believe I'm finally talking to you.”

“I can't believe it, either.”

“I have so much to tell you. So much to apologize for.” Your voice faded, and I could barely hear you.

“Sophie, it's okay. It's all okay. I understand. I'm not mad at you.”

“I talk to Ben every night. He's going to get you out.”

“I know he's doing everything he can, but, Sophie, I want to hear about you. Tell me about your life.”

I heard you take a few deep breaths, and then I think you started to cry.

“Please, stay calm. Your blood pressure . . .” I could hear Thomas in the background.

“Are you sick?” I asked. Like William? The automated voice reminded me of my dwindling time.

“Not exactly.” Stay calm, Thomas told you again.

You sniffled, and I heard you
ask him to get you a glass of water. After
you took a drink, I heard the most magnificent words
I'd ever heard.

“Mom, I'm pregnant. You're going to be a grandma.”

“You're going to have a baby?” her mom shouted into the phone.

“I'm due in June.”

“My love runneth over.”

Sophie closed her eyes. Suddenly she was six again. “Mommy, see my picture. It's our family.” Her mom had placed the picture up against her heart and said, “My love runneth over.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Sophie kept her eyes closed. She could feel her mother's tender arms around her, shielding her and stroking her hair.

“I'm feeling great, Mom. The doctor's watching my blood pressure, but I'm fine, I promise.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Sophie could hear her mom sniffling into the phone.

“Are you happy?” her mom asked. Sophie could tell from her tremulous voice that that was all she cared about.

“I try to be.” Sophie answered that question honestly for the first time since her mother left her. “I tried for as long as I could to pretend everything was okay. I became good at it, but I can't do it anymore. I miss you. I need to see you and bring you home.”

“I want to see you more than you know,” her mom said, her voice now barely above a whisper.

“It'll happen, Mom.” Thomas stroked her hair while she talked.

“I like your husband.”

“I thought you would. He reminds me of Daddy.” Sophie reached up and held Thomas's hand. “I wish you could have been there. On my wedding day, I mean.”

There was quiet on the other end.

“I didn't mean to make you feel bad,” Sophie interjected.

“You only make me feel good,” her mom finally said. “Everything about you makes me feel good.”

The phone beeped, indicating their time was almost up.

Sophie took her hand off Thomas and gripped the phone. “I love you, Mom.”

For the first time in eleven years, her mom whispered back, “I love you, too, Sophie.”

We just hung up the phone and I have so many things I still want to ask you. Big questions, like “Do you want a boy or a girl?” and “How are you decorating the nursery?” but mainly I'm curious about the small details most mothers know about their kids, like “Do you still need to hear the dryer running when you fall asleep?” and “Do you still eat your toast with cinnamon sugar sprinkled all over it?” The observations mothers store in the back of their mind that no other person would even care to notice.

I want to be able to run to the grocery store and buy you lemon drops because sucking on them will help your nausea (are you having morning sickness?), or make you thirty different freezer meals just to have on standby when you're too tired to cook. All the tangible favors moms are privileged to do for the ones they love. Since Lakeland won't let me out to run those errands, I'll have to concentrate on the intangible gifts that only come deep from within a mother's soul.

I can't explain how amazing it was to hear you say “I love you.” Parts of me that hadn't been alive since the last day I saw you breathed again. I floated back to my cell.

I know Thomas loves you, too. He told me so when we met, but he showed me when I overheard him caring for you when we were on the phone. I can sleep, like never before, because I know you have someone else in your life who adores you.

I don't know how many phone conversations we have left or if I will ever get to see your face again. Those are the decisions I can't control and you can't, either. No matter what the governor does or doesn't do, please know I will be fine and in a much better place surrounded by love.

You will be fine, too. Every morning when you look into the ever-changing expressions on your newborn's face, know I am with you.

Guard against letting any more of your moments be soaked in regret. I'm choosing to let go of any resentment and make a conscious effort to let my enemies bring out the best in me—not the worst. I'm praying you will have the strength to do the same.

I asked myself over and over throughout my years in here . . . Was I a good mom? Did we bake enough cookies?

I wasn't able to teach you everything you needed to know to make it in this unpredictable world. I don't even know if you can balance a checkbook or have proper table manners, but as I go over the “good mom” checklist in my mind, I realize only a few things really matter. Are you loved, and do you love others well?

As I looked back over my life, I realized my purpose was to give you yours. To show you the way, to tell you the truth, and to give you everything I had to give.

Slow down and enjoy. Fish sticks and macaroni and cheese always taste better at a happy table.

I can't believe my grandchild is growing inside you.

“I'm doing everything I can think of,” Ben said.

Sophie had waited until Thomas left for work to call him. The execution date was two weeks away and her impatience was growing as fast as her stomach was. While they spoke, she cut tags off of the new elastic-waist pants she'd ordered online.

“Why haven't we heard anything?” Deep down she knew he didn't have an answer, but she couldn't stop herself from questioning him every time they talked. He'd explained to her and Thomas, in depth, the death row appeals process. This new information could be heard only if the governor's office would listen.

“The governor's office has assured me they have received the petition, but that's all they will tell me. I have no idea when a decision will be made.”

Sophie felt like she was pulling a rug with an enormous armoire on top of it. “I'm starting to lose hope. I feel like no one in the whole world cares my innocent mother is rotting in jail but you, me, and Thomas.” She hurled her scissors onto the middle of the bed.

“We knew this would be a long shot,” Ben said.

The Internet searches she repeated late at night when her mind refused to shut down told her Ben was probably right. History wasn't on her mother's side. A South Carolina governor hadn't stopped any of the forty-three executions since the death penalty had been reinstated more than thirty years ago.

“I don't know what they'll do,” Ben finally said.

“We can't give up.”

“I'll never give up on your mom, but we have to prepare ourselves.” He paused, then exhaled.

“For what, Ben? Prepare ourselves for an innocent woman who has already spent over a third of her life in prison to die there?” She bent over the best she could and started picking lint off her bedroom floor.

“This new information may have come too late.” Ben stated what Sophie knew.
I waited too long to help my mom. She's going to die because of me.
Sophie picked up a broken gold tube of Elizabeth Arden's Beautiful Color Maximum Volume Mascara that had fallen off her dresser and chucked it at the wall.

“Well, you can do that, Ben. You can prepare yourself, but I'm not going to. My mom is coming home, and I won't let anyone tell me otherwise.” She hesitated for a minute, but then her words erupted while her shame turned to anger: “Maybe you're not the one for this job.”

Ben didn't respond to her threat. “I know you're frustrated. I am, too.” When she didn't reply, he said, “How are you feeling? How's the baby?”

She knew he was trying to change the subject to get her to calm down. The truth was, she could never fire Ben. He'd become her family and the only connection she had to her mother. His concern reminded her of that.

“The baby's doing fine. My doctor said I can do limited activities—go to the grocery store and get my hair cut. She won't clear me to travel yet.”

“I know your mom understands,” Ben reassured her. “She's not allowed visitors right now, anyway.”

“Why? Did she get in some kind of trouble?” Sophie fixated her gaze on the newly black stain she'd created on her wall.

“I received a fax earlier this morning,” he said reluctantly. “Two weeks prior to the scheduled execution, the inmate is moved off of death row and to a death-watch cell for observation.”