Love Letters From the Grave(18)

‘You know what I’m going to do?’ Charlie asked Amos one afternoon when they were re-stacking the shelves with returned books.

‘Run for president?’ Amos laughed with his customary good humor. Nothing ever seemed to rattle him, even when his young children visited him in prison and left in tears. ‘You could be the first lifer to lead the country.’

Charlie pretended to consider it, then laughed. ‘Nope. Not yet, anyways. No, what I’m going to do is read every single book in this library.’

Amos studied the spine of the book he was holding and located its position on the shelf. He’d been able to read when he entered prison but not much; Charlie’s friendship and tutelage had pushed him to higher levels in all sorts of ways, especially in mental arithmetic, for which he had a natural talent. ‘You’re even going to read this one?’

He held up a copy of Gone With the Wind.

‘Even that one.’ Charlie winced at the thought, but a promise – even to himself – was a promise.

‘Actually, I asked Mr Danvers about getting hold of some more mathematical books,’ said Amos thoughtfully, ‘and he said we could borrow books from the public libraries outside of the prison.’

‘Really?’ That was amazing. ‘You might just have saved me from some very long tales of passion, Amos. Now I can really target what I’d like to read.’

‘You and me both, Charlie. You and me both.’

Truth be told, he didn’t have much time for tales of passion in any case. His close association with the church, including the legacy of his scripture lessons with Father Patton, had helped Charlie to control his sexual desires whenever he had them. He’d been an altar boy, for goodness’ sake; he’d even been considering the priesthood.

Whenever such thoughts would enter his mind, which they often did during visitation periods which exposed him to women from the outside, he simply thought of the celibacy such a life would have required. His prison counsellors included the priest, Father Hannity, and Sister Brighid, who were also very effective in helping him to overcome sexual desires, particularly at times when they began to overwhelm him because of something Amos or Justin said about their wives.

Or when he saw Muriel, the young daughter of Cecil, one of the other lifers.

‘Celibacy. Celibacy,’ he would repeat to himself, and somehow it worked.

All in all, Charlie was comfortable with his lot. He knew he was in prison for life, for something he’d never intended to do or known would create such harm, but he spent every day doing just as Mr Adams and Warden Kelly had told him: counting his blessings, reading his Bible, learning both trades and academic subjects alike. His friendships were deep-seated and rewarding, and he had enough visitors to keep in touch with the outside world.

And then the outside world stepped into the prison.



Pearl Harbor dramatically changed everything at the Penitentiary.

It was Amos who told him about it, running into the woodwork shop where Charlie was fashioning a toy figurine for William’s son.

‘We can volunteer, Charlie! We can get out of here!’ Amos waved a poster in Charlie’s face. ‘There’s not enough manpower in the services, especially after Pearl Harbor with America joining in the war completely. The Government’s agreed that prisoners who volunteer for the armed forces can have their sentences commuted or be granted parole early.’

‘Oh, my Lord, Amos. That’s our way out. That’s our way out!’

Clutching each other’s arms, they bounced up and down among the woodwork benches, hearing the cheers as the news spread around the prison.

‘What do we do? How do we volunteer?’ said Amos breathlessly.

Charlie knew instantly. ‘I’m going to straight to the Warden. And you’re coming with me.’

They joined the queue that had formed at the Warden’s office door, made up mostly of younger men like themselves. The guards shepherded them half-heartedly along the corridor, clearly wondering how much easier their life was going to be with all the young bloods fighting for their country. Maybe they were even thinking of signing up themselves.

Charlie pushed Amos through the Warden’s door first and waited until he emerged, grinning, before allowing himself a little rush of anticipation. He hadn’t been looking for a way out of prison, of course, but if there was a route that allowed him to be paroled and to serve his country, then he wanted to be one of the first to volunteer.

Finally, he stood before the warden’s desk, only realizing then that he was still clutching the half-chiselled figurine. He shoved it behind him.

‘Warden Kelly, sir, I’d like to volunteer to serve in the armed forces.’

Kelly stared at him bleakly, and Charlie faltered a little.

‘I … I’m in excellent physical condition, sir. I have numerous skills both from my time in the penitentiary and my life on the farm before I came here, especially with engines. I believe I could help out a lot with planes and service vehicles, Warden Kelly. I’m also exceptionally well-educated, all thanks to the many opportunities that I’ve taken here in prison, sir. Just like you said I should. I—?

He stopped short, because the Warden wasn’t responding. He looked pained, with that sad, wearied expression clouding his eyes once more.

‘I’m sorry, son,’ he said eventually. ‘I don’t disagree with a single thing you’ve just said. If it was up to me, I’d say you were the best qualified volunteer of all. The most likely to do his country proud. A young man in the prime of life. But it’s out of my hands, I’m afraid.’