Taking the Heat. Brenda Novak
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well. Other than the somber expression she wore, and a certain weariness in the way she moved, she seemed perfectly healthy and capable.
Gabrielle noticed the sound of a motor and checked her rearview mirror. Sure enough, her mother’s silver Camry was coming up from behind.
Without so much as a glance at the Honda waiting just past her house, Naomi turned onto her drive and pulled into the garage. A moment later she appeared carrying her purse and a bag of groceries, which explained why she was a little later today than usual, and walked out to the mailbox.
Now, Gabrielle told herself. There wasn’t any point in waiting. It had already been far too long.
She paused, trying to visualize approaching the woman in the black pants and short-sleeved button-up blouse and telling her who she was, then shuddered at what her mother’s reaction would probably be. A blank look, followed by recognition, horror and finally repugnance. Gabrielle had imagined the scene at least a million times, hoping her mother would smile or show some hint of regret for what they’d lost. But if Naomi felt any of the emotions Gabrielle did, they wouldn’t have spent twenty-five years apart. Her mother wanted nothing to do with her, never had, and in Gabrielle’s imagined confrontation, the question Naomi always asked first was “How did you find me?”—as though being found was the single worst thing in the world.
Gabrielle didn’t think she could bear the rejection. It was easier to live with not knowing, wasn’t it?
No, she’d come this far. She had to know. It was time to deal with the past and to put it behind her.
Bracing for whatever would follow, she shut off the ignition, got out and started to unbuckle Allie when another car pulled up and parked in the drive.
“Mom! Hey!” a tall blonde called from the shiny red convertible.
Naomi turned and the weariness that had existed in her demeanor immediately fell away. “Hi, honey,” she said, smiling in obvious pleasure. “What a nice surprise. I thought you had too much work to make it today.”
“Are you kidding? You said you made me a German chocolate cake. I couldn’t miss that.”
Gabrielle realized she wasn’t breathing. She stood in midmotion, transfixed, watching as this beautiful woman stepped out of her car and embraced her mother—their mother. Gabrielle had been right. She had more family than just Naomi. She had a sister, and there could be more….
Longing made her knees weak, and she put a hand on the car to steady herself. What would it be like, she wondered, to someday walk up to this person and smile that easy smile—the smile that denoted familiarity beyond friendship—and say, “Hi, sis, how was work?”
“Was traffic bad getting here?” Naomi asked.
The blonde shrugged. “I was visiting a client in Chandler, so I didn’t have that far to come. And traffic’s never bad this late, unless there’s an accident or something. How was the Historical Society today?”
“Oh, you know I like working at the museum. They need volunteers so badly. Today someone donated some dental instruments that date back to the 1880s. Should go well with the chair we already have.”
“Great. Here, let me get that for you.” She took the bag of groceries Naomi carried and began to follow her to the house.
Gabrielle knew she should say something, catch their attention. But she felt like such an outsider, as though she was watching them through the front window with her nose pressed to the glass. She had no idea whether she’d be welcomed. Whether they’d invite her to come any closer.
Allie whimpered, frustrated that she hadn’t been set free after the promising motions Gabrielle had already made, but Gabrielle couldn’t move. Approaching her mother would be difficult enough when they were alone, she decided. She couldn’t do it with her sister there and the two of them laughing and talking. Unless…unless one of them looked up. She’d do it if they noticed her, she promised herself.
She stared after them, willing them to give the slightest indication that they’d seen her. But neither of them even glanced in her direction. They were too caught up in each other. Their voices dimmed as they neared the house, the door opened and shut, and they were gone.
A truck rattled past on the street, windows down, its single occupant visibly sweating. Gabrielle let her breath go and closed her eyes. It was over. It was too late.
Allie started to cry, letting her know she wasn’t happy about this strange neglect, but Gabrielle felt too numb to comfort her. She tugged mechanically on the car seat to make sure she hadn’t loosened the strap, then slid behind the wheel, still hesitant to go anywhere when what she wanted was inside. If she could only witness whatever her mother and her sister did when they were together, see the house, gain a sense of who these people were so she could know more about herself…
Her mother was married, or at least she lived with a man; that much Gabrielle knew. She’d seen him pass in front of the windows before, wearing a plain white T-shirt and holding a can of beer or soda. She guessed he was retired, spent most of his time doing yard work and watching television. But today she could see nothing. The blinds were down to keep out the sun.
Gabrielle started the car, adjusted the air-conditioning vents and gazed off to the other side of the road, where sand-colored desert spread in front of her as far as the eye could see. It gave her the impression that her mother lived on the edge of the civilized world. Paloverde trees, palm yuccas, mesquites, cacti, brown parched earth, it went on for miles and miles….
Go home, she told herself. You have plenty of other things to worry about for one night. And it was true. The warden’s secretary had responded to her phone call, informing her that he’d agreed to see her. They had an appointment first thing in the morning.
“I’m sorry, babe,” she said to Allie, “I’m as disappointed as you are. But we’ll do it someday. Someday soon, I promise. Now let’s go home and give you a bath.” Shifting into Drive, she made a U-turn and headed back to her trailer.
WARDEN CRUMB reminded Gabrielle of Jack LaLane. Five feet ten, or so, he was nearly sixty but took great pride in his appearance. Even though he wore a suit, Gabrielle could tell he had the body of a much younger man and, while his hair was gray, he’d managed to retain most of it.
“How’s our new corrections officer?” he asked, flashing her a poster smile as soon as his secretary showed her into his office. Their appointment had been scheduled for seven o’clock, but he’d kept her waiting almost an hour.
“I’m fine,” she said as the secretary withdrew and closed the door.
Crumb didn’t get up, but he waved to a seat across from his desk. “Would you like to sit down?”
Gabrielle perched on the edge of an upholstered chair and took a deep breath to ease the tension in her stiff muscles. She might become a pariah among her peers, but she was doing the right thing—wasn’t she?
She knew David wouldn’t think so. He’d asked her to lie low, and she’d lasted only two days. But someone had to take a stand, even if Hansen was the warden’s nephew.
Crumb rested his elbows on the arms of his high-backed leather chair and laced his fingers together. “What can I do for you?” he asked, his blue eyes sharp and focused on her face.
Gabrielle swallowed against the dryness of her throat and told him what had happened in Cell Block 2. She mentioned Hansen and the others allowing the fight to continue, Tucker’s injuries and Hansen’s refusal to call the doctor. As she spoke, she expected a look of surprise or dismay to cross the warden’s face, but his pleasant expression never wavered.
“I can understand how you might be concerned by what you saw,” he said when she finished. “But fights break out in prison all the time. It might be easy to blame the other guards for not paying more attention to who doesn’t like whom, but those kinds of things change, depending on which way the wind blows. Today two men might get along