Freedom of Love (Letter From Home #2)(7)

Now, with renewed vigor, I moved to the box of books near the back, more determined than ever to send as many as I could to the military base. This is something I can do for someone else!



My step was lighter as I made my way down the hall to the social worker’s office. Knocking, I entered as she called out. Now greeting each other with familiarity, I sat down in the chair provided, my gaze shifting around the pleasant room.

Susan sat quietly, her eyes not leaving my face for a moment before she lifted one eyebrow and commented, “You seem different today.”

Sucking in my lips, I had no idea how to respond.

“Has something happened that has made you appear less stressed?”

Shrugging, I replied, “I…I really don’t know what you mean.”

“Hmmm,” she mumbled, her gaze still pinned on me. “How is everything with your cellmates?”

“They’re still good. Ellen and Jackie are really nice and Jocelyn’s not too bad. She’s kinda moody, so I stay out of her way.”

“And your job in the library?”

At that, my smile broke free. “I love it.”

“Tell me why,” Susan prodded, her gaze not wavering as she smiled encouragingly.

I looked behind her at the eye-catching picture hanging on the wall in her office, the bright swirling colors, reminding me of a sunset over a beach, sending a sense of happiness through me. Looking back at Susan, I shrugged as I answered, “I just love books. I’ve always loved books.”

“Why?”

Forcing me to analyze my answer, I continued, “I can disappear in the pages. Become someone else. I can go to another place or time. I can delve into a romance or mystery or time travel. Books…I don’t know…can take us away from where we are.”

Nodding, Susan smiled and said, “I like that answer. I enjoy books as well, but you’ve stated the reason perfectly.”

We sat for a moment of peaceful silence before she asked, “And what of your project?”

At that reminder, my smile turned into a full blown grin. I was uncertain if I should share about the email but l knew that I was supposed to show proof that my community project served a purpose. Looking at her hesitantly, I said, “I stuck a note in one of the books that was a favorite of mine and asked whoever got the book to send me an email just to let me know they were received.”

Susan, her interest piqued, leaned forward, resting her forearms on the desk and asked, “And did you hear back?” Her excitement was palpable and her eyes sparkled in anticipation.

Nodding, I rushed, “I got an email this morning and the soldier who found my note told me he liked the book and thanked me. He talked a bit about how he likes mysteries and hopes I send more.”

Leaning back, a satisfied gleam in her eye, Susan said, “Congratulations, Molly! Well done!”

I sat, prim and proper with my hands in my lap, and smiled back. My smile drooped when she continued, “So what’s your next move?”

“Um…well, I’m definitely going to get another box together,” I rushed, hoping she didn’t think my project was a one and done.

“Okay, I expected that, but what about the soldier who emailed? Will you be corresponding?”

Surprised, I dropped my calm demeanor and with a hasty shake replied, “Oh, no. I…I’ll just send more books.” I looked at her raised eyebrow again, indicating she was questioning my answer, but I had no idea what to say.

“Why would you not respond?”

Hurt slashed through me as I looked down at my hands. I wasn’t sure why I had to explain…surely she knew my reasons. “I’m nobody. I’m in prison for killing someone.” My words were barely above a whisper, but I felt their force echo through me.

“You were not convicted of murder, Molly. You certainly would not be in a minimum security facility if you were a danger. I’ve read your file, and while you won’t talk to me about what happened, I know that someone died after you had struck them but you were not trying to kill them.”

All my pleasure from the book email slid away as my reality slammed into me—not that it was ever far away. The bars, guards, locked doors, and lack of freedom tended to keep incarceration front and center. No words came so I just sat, rigid once more, my hands tightly clasped as my knuckles turned white from the pressure.

“Molly,” Susan’s soft voice called.

I looked up, swallowing deeply.

“Whatever happened is in the past. But you need to work on reminding yourself that there will be a long life after this stay here. There is nothing wrong with having some communication outside of these walls. And if this soldier is a book lover then they might enjoy a conversation with someone else who loves books just as much. I’m not suggesting you have to become pen-pals, but I think it would be good for you to focus on this project, and it should involve getting to know some of the people that it helps.”

“I’m embarrassed,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. I’m not sure if I’m speaking to her or admitting it to myself. But no matter, the words were out now.

“I’m sure you are,” she nodded, her slight smile understanding my plight. “But you are not obligated to tell anyone what you have done or where you are. All that matters is the shared love of a good book.”