A Smidgen of Sky (15 page)

Mama sucked in her breath.

I kept my eyes on the reporter.

“At the same time, in the areas where these officers had previously been, the inmates left their housing units and moved up to the C-block corridor. Although the details are hazy at this time, Karen, we do have reports of at least two injured guards and several injured inmates. The prison has been placed on lockdown and will remain that way throughout the disturbance.”

Ginger let out a yelp. “Daddy!” she cried.

Mama's face was the color of a mushroom.

I turned back to the TV and heard a woman's voice ask, “Is there any indication as to what might have triggered this disturbance, Charlie?”

“Well, nothing concrete at this point, Karen. But we do know that the Georgia legislature has recently slashed funding for many popular inmate programs, such as college accreditation courses and many sports programs, and there's been a lot of dissention and unrest because of it. So that's a likely possibility.”

“My God,” Mama whispered. “Ben was right.”

I was about to ask,
Right about what?
But as soon as I opened my mouth, Mama put a finger to her lips and pointed back at the TV.

“So what is the plan at this point?” Karen asked.

“Well,” Charlie said, “correctional professionals know that, unlike movie portrayals where a massive show of force is used to overwhelm the bad guys, disturbances such as this one are most often resolved through patient negotiation and interagency cooperation. Local law- enforcement agencies are providing perimeter security at this time, and a command center has been set up by officials of the Georgia Department of Corrections.”

The reporter paused and looked down at some papers in his hand.

“Apparently the governor has placed the National Guard on standby, but as the governor indicated, his primary mission is the preservation of life and to bring a quick and peaceful end to this disturbance. We'll certainly keep you updated as events unfold. Charlie Gallagher, reporting live for News 4.”

Ginger got up and stumbled toward Mama. “Is Daddy okay, Heather? What did they say?”

Mama opened her arms to Ginger. “I'm sure he's fine, honey.”

I pictured Ben, how he'd moved those heavy railroad ties around by himself when we'd made the garden. Of course he'd be fine.

“What does
lockdown
mean?” I asked.

“It means nobody is allowed to go in or out,” Mama said.

“For how long?”

“Until the officers get control again, I s'pose.”

“Heather,” Ginger whispered, “I'm worried about Daddy.”

Mama blinked very fast and smoothed Ginger's hair.

“What are we gonna do?” I said.

“The officer on the phone said we're s'posed to go to the Creston High School gym,” Mama answered. “They've set it up for the families so they can keep everyone updated at the same time.”

None of us spoke the whole ten-minute ride across town. Mama gripped the steering wheel and stared out through the light rain pattering the windshield. Ginger sniffled. I didn't know what to do. One thing was for sure, though—I could quit worrying about our big talk.

Creston High School was an old, red brick building that looked as though it had been there since the Civil War. Cars filled the parking lot and spilled out onto the grassy areas bordering the side streets. We parked and headed for the main entrance.

People darted around inside, talking on cell phones or clomping up and down the bleachers. Mama searched the crowd, looking lost. Finally she steered us over to the far side of the gym and we sat down on some bleachers, next to a blond lady with a baby on her lap.

The lady gave Mama a nervous smile. “I'm Patty Patella. My husband, John, works as a guard.”

“Your baby's cute as a button,” Mama said. “How old is he?”

The lady's eyes filled with tears. “Fourteen months. And I just found out this morning I'm pregnant again. Can y'all believe it? I haven't even gotten to tell John yet.”

Mama reached over and gave Patty's hand a squeeze as though she'd known her a long time.

After we'd been there a half hour or so, a man with a microphone walked to the center of the gym. He wore tan pants and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He blew into the microphone, and the harsh hissing grabbed everyone's attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “My name is Carl Stevens. I'm the assistant director of the Georgia Department of Corrections. Thank you for being willing to come here; I know this is an extremely stressful time. Let me start by quieting the rumor mill and giving you some basic facts.

“The disturbance began about ten this morning. A fight broke out among twelve inmates as they were being taken back inside after recreation. By the time other guards were able to respond, the fight had expanded to include roughly sixty inmates. At this point, we believe there are at least twenty guards and twenty-five inmates being held hostage.”

People shouted angry questions at Mr. Stevens, like they thought the whole thing was his fault. Every time he tried to walk away, someone shouted a new question. I was glad I wasn't him. At last he raised both hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, that's all the information I have right now. The second I hear anything more, you'll hear it, too. In the meantime, help yourself to coffee and soft drinks.”

Ginger's chin quivered. “If something happens to Daddy, I won't have anybody. I'll be all alone.”

“Oh, honey,” Mama said, “nonsense. First of all, your daddy's gonna be just fine. And you wouldn't be alone anyhow—you have me and Piper Lee.”

“Not Piper Lee,” Ginger said. “She doesn't want you and Daddy to get married. She probably hopes something happens to him.”

I jerked back like she'd tossed me a firecracker.

Mama placed her hand on my knee. “She didn't mean it, Piper Lee. She's just scared.”

I jumped up. “I'm gonna go get something to drink.” I slipped over to the refreshment table, where two coolers overflowed with ice and drinks. I reached in for a cherry cola and then moved a few steps away. Ginger's comment burned like scalding water.

Did she truly believe I wanted something bad to happen to Ben? It wasn't true. But to have her think so made me want to shrivel up like a slug in the sun. I caught glimpses of her and Mama through gaps in the crowd. Ginger was resting her head on Mama's shoulder. I could tell she wasn't trying to win points; she was just real scared for Ben.

I took a closer look at the people around me, at the fear in their faces. Something bad really could happen inside those gray prison walls—to Patty Patella's husband, maybe even to Ben.

I finished my Coke. Then I fished a root beer out of the cooler for Ginger and filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee for Mama. She smiled when I offered it to her. “Thanks, sweetie. That was nice.”

Ginger opened the root beer, took one swallow, and then set the can beside her. Patty's baby made a grab for it. “What's his name?” she asked Patty.

“Austin James.”

“Could I hold him?”

Patty shifted the baby onto Ginger's lap. “He's so bored. He wants to get down and run around.”

“We could walk him around,” I said. “If you want us to.”

She seemed relieved. “Go right ahead.”

Ginger and I each took one of his fat little hands, and he grinned. But it took only a few seconds to figure out that he didn't want to hold hands—he wanted to run free. We circled him like a moving fence, trying to keep him in Patty's view. But all of a sudden he slipped free and took off in a wobbly run.

Halfway across the gym I grabbed him by the back of his overalls. He squealed as loud as a cornered hog, and a bunch of people scowled. I let go right away.

Patty came out of nowhere and scooped him up. “Thanks for trying,” she said. She hurried away with Austin shrieking in her arms. Ginger stared after them.

“What?” I said.

“How old do you think Patty is?”

“I dunno. Why?”

“'Cause I was just thinking that I was about Austin's age when Mama decided to leave.”

Austin's little blond head bobbed over Patty's shoulder as she wove her way through the crowd. I tried to picture her walking out on him, saying he was just too much work. But of course she wouldn't. How could anyone?

“I think Patty's older than your mama was.”

“Mama was plenty old enough,” Ginger said with a spunk I hadn't heard before. “You don't have to stick up for her.”

“I wasn't,” I said. “I was just . . .” and then my voice trailed off. I didn't know how to explain that it was her I was trying to stick up for, not Tina.

“She called yesterday.”

“How come you didn't say so before?”

Ginger shrugged. “After she finishes her travel-agent training, she wants to come see me for a couple days.”

“What'd your daddy say?”

“That it's up to me.”

“Well, you want her to come, don't you?”

“Maybe. I gotta think about it some.”

I recalled what she'd said a minute before, about Tina being plenty old enough. “You know I don't want anything to happen to your daddy, right? I swear I never thought such a thing.”

“I know,” Ginger said. She rubbed at her face. “You probably think I'm acting like a baby, but it's just that I wanna see him so bad right now.”

“I don't think you're being a baby.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “I wouldn't mind seeing him myself.”

I wish I'd had a camera to capture the look she gave me—as though for just one second she thought I was the greatest person in the whole world. It gave me enough courage to say the rest. “I should never have gotten you all excited about trying to find your mama. I'm sorry I ever started it.”

“I'm not,” Ginger said. “Not really. 'Cause now I don't have to wonder so much.”

“You don't hate me?”

“Course not.”

And then it was my turn to get choked up.

The afternoon dragged into evening. Mama and Ginger and I went outdoors and walked three laps around the high school track. It was still raining a bit, but the air was warm and smelled of damp earth and jasmine.

We went back inside, and Ginger and I ate some pepperoni pizza. Mama said she wasn't hungry and drank another cup of coffee. It was 6:35 p.m. when the sharp whine of a microphone caught our attention. The room hushed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Stevens said, “I'm thrilled to announce the release of all of the hostages, with the exception of five inmates and five guards.”

Shouts and whistles filled the air. Mama let out a happy gasp.

“Who?” somebody hollered from across the gym.

Mr. Stevens raised both arms until everybody shut up again. “I'm going to read off the names of the released guards. You can meet up with your loved ones at the Maycomb County Hospital, where they're being checked out.”

Mama leaned forward between Ginger and me, holding our hands. She squeezed mine so hard that it filled with pins and needles.

Mr. Stevens held up his list. After each name he paused for what seemed like forever to allow for the ruckus as people gathered their stuff and hurried out.

Patty's husband was number nine. I smiled as she swooped up Austin's diaper bag and bent to give Mama a quick hug.

“Go,” Mama whispered. “Go tell that man of yours he's gonna be a daddy again.”

Patty's eyes shone. “Y'all are in my prayers.”

I counted every name Mr. Stevens read.

There were seventeen.

But not one of them was Ben Hutchings.

 

M
R
. S
TEVENS SET
down his microphone and folded the paper. The look on Mama's face ripped a hole in my chest big enough to walk through.

I put an arm around her. “It's gonna be okay,” I whispered. “He'll read the other names soon. You'll see.”

“Oh, Ben,” Mama said. “Please don't do this to me.”

I understood exactly what she was saying. She'd already lost Daddy. She couldn't stand the thought of losing another person she loved. And that's when I knew just how much she loved Ben. And I realized more than ever what a stupid thing I'd done—not just as far as Lyn, but the whole Operation Finding Tina thing. A million little needles of guilt pricked through my skin and ground their way down to my very soul. Ginger was right. I didn't have a speck of brains—or a speck of heart. I clamped my eyes real tight, but the tears leaked through anyhow.

When I opened my eyes again, a flash of color caught my attention. A woman wearing a red windbreaker was carrying a cardboard box into the gym. She pulled out a bunch of plastic bags and lined them up on the refreshment table.

Mr. Stevens scooped up an armful of bags and began making his way around the gym. Finally he came around to us and offered a tired smile. “Hello there. How are you ladies holding up?”