Page 34 of His Old Lady

Chapter 12

Faye

The guard left herin the chair in front of the Plexiglass that would separate her from Uncle Walker. She wiped her palms on the thighs of her jeans. There was never a time when she comfortably walked into the prison and remained at ease.

Everything about the place made her feel dirty.

The guard on the other side of the room eyed her as if he could read her thoughts. The criminals partitioned from her gawked as if starving for the sight of a female. She could sense the way they wanted to touch her and imagine what they'd do if given a chance to be shut in the same room with her.

The penitentiary was an old and rundown building with years of grime, sweat, blood, and bodily fluids caked on the floor, walls, and ceiling, adding to the odd musty scent hanging heavily in the air.

She tapped her foot against the sticky surface, impatient for Uncle Walker to be led into the small area on the other side of the protective glass. There were times she'd waited for up to an hour only to be informed the visit was canceled, with no explanation, and she'd made the trip for nothing.

Motion from inside the secured room brought her to the edge of her seat.

Uncle Walker shuffled his chained feet forward, clasping his hands in front of his body to hold the cuffs still. Three feet of iron links secured his wrists to his ankles. It was absolutely ridiculous how they treated human beings in prison.

What could he do while visiting her when there was unbreakable glass between them that was thick enough, they had to talk through a phone?

She smiled, knowing her uncle had few bright spots in his days. He was serving a twenty-five-year sentence and had nine more years left. To her, he'd already been gone a lifetime and missed out on so much.

The thought made her sad. It wasn't fair.

Uncle Walker was alone. Confined. Miserable.

The jury only judged him on his crimes. They never looked past the murders to see the person who took care of his young niece when nobody else would or religiously took Grandma June to church every Sunday morning and picked her up after the potluck. They never heard how he often donated his money to his MC brothers, because they were struggling through hard times and had several mouths to feed at home. They never heard about how he'd sit on the edge of her bed and tell her wacky stories to get her mind off why her life was different than the other kids at school. They never witnessed him hugging her, drilling in the fact that she was loved.

They only saw a killer when they looked at the big man who wore his hair too long, left his beard uncut, and had tattoos snaking up both arms.

She studied Uncle Walker. Beyond the dedicated blood relative who loved her, his brown eyes were the same as hers. If he pulled back his hair, anyone could see that they had the same crazy ears that stuck out a little too far from their heads.

Uncle Walker sat down. Raising both his hands because of the cuffs, he grabbed the phone receiver he'd use to talk with her. She retrieved the receiver on her side of the Plexiglass.

"Hi, Uncle Walker," she said softly.

He cleared his throat, but his voice stayed rough. "Hey, sweetheart."

"My goldfish died yesterday." She shrugged. "It's pretty crazy when I think about how long it lived."

She always brought up something in her life to keep herself from asking how he was doing. It was apparent what he was doing and how he was handling prison life. He needed a glimpse of what was going on in the outside world. Whether it was good or bad, it would give him something to think about while he sat on his cot and stared at the four walls.

"It lived for fourteen years." She leaned closer. "In a tiny bowl. Most of the time, the water was dirty because I was too busy to keep it clean, and I fed it too many flakes because I felt guilty for being out in the nursery instead of in the house."

"Sorry." He stroked his beard with his free hand since he couldn't lower his arm. "Everything okay with the house?"

She nodded. "The grass is growing fast now that I've started the fertilizer schedule. All the snow is gone. The rhoddies out front are budding already. Everything in the greenhouse is ahead of schedule, and I'm waiting to roll up some of the partitions soon, once there's no hint of the temperatures dipping to freezing at night."

"Summer is going to keep you busy," he muttered.

She nodded. "I hope so."

"This winter, make sure you roll up a towel and put it at the bottom of the back door to the yard. It'll keep the drafts out and lower your heating bill."

He'd reminded her every few months, every year, no matter the season as if saving her money was important to him. She rubbed her lips together. There were so many things she wanted to talk to him about, but they were uncomfortable topics, and she was hesitant about ruining their visit if she upset him.

But if he found out any information about her from one of the Tarkio members and not from her first, he'd be even madder.

"So, I quit my job." She wrinkled her nose. "Cal, the owner, he became impossible to work for."