Page 23 of Fighting for Tawny

As soon as their cell doors slid open the next morning, the women set about making the prison sparkle without being told to do so. They cleaned, scrubbed, straightened their messy cells, and hid contraband. On her hands and knees, Tawny scrubbed the bathroom floors and shower stalls. She hummed her and Finnigan’s favorite song, and others followed her lead. Soon, their humming accompanied the sounds of their cleaning. They spoke, when it was necessary, in quiet and respectful voices instead of the usual shouting. They cooperated with one another because they feared the consequences if they didn’t.

At precisely nine a.m., the atmosphere changed—charged with expectancy and trepidation. Tawny was in one of the classrooms conducting extra tutoring sessions to make up for lost time when an excited inmate burst through the door.

“He’s here!” she declared breathlessly.

“Okay, thanks.”

The inmate rushed off, and one of Tawny’s pupils asked, “What do we do now?”

“We keep on with our normal routine.”

Tawny deliberately kept herself hidden in the classroom as those who needed tutoring filtered in and out. Almost two and a half hours had passed since Director Jerry Dickinson’s arrival, and all remained quiet. While assisting Andee with one of her adult education classes online, Tawny’s worst fear materialized when Pomeroy entered the classroom.

“Director Dickinson wants to see you in the greenhouse.”

Tawny’s heart dropped into her stomach. The other women gazed at her with quizzical expressions on their faces.

“You gonna be okay?” Andee asked.

“Of course. Don’t worry about me. Worry about writing that essay for your American History class.”

As they strode toward the greenhouse near the flower garden, Pomeroy commented, “You’re getting a reputation in here.”

“Good or bad?”

“One that is causing Warden Stoltz quite a bit of concern.”

“He should save his concern for the women under his watch.”

“His job isn’t easy.”

“I agree. It’s also thankless. But he’s making it more difficult by his complete lack of empathy and mishandling of the prison environment.”

“That sounds like a speech you’ve rehearsed and intend to give to Director Dickinson.”

“Not really. I didn’t anticipate he’d want to talk with me.”

“You’re a complete mystery to me, Tawny.”

“Who me? I’m an open book.”

“Right. In a language no one can read.”

When they approached the greenhouse, Warden Stoltz hid his anger at this encroachment upon his authority behind a painted smile that did not reach his eyes. Tawny suspected that the morning hadn’t gone well for him.

Director Jerry Dickinson, a well-built, well-dressed man, approximately six feet tall with wheat-colored hair and brown eyes, separated himself from the warden and held out a large hand. “Ms. Westfall, hi. I’m Jerry Dickinson, director of the Department of Corrections.”

Tawny gripped his hand firmly. “Yes, sir. Hi.”

Director Dickinson turned his attention toward Stoltz and Pomeroy. “Please give us some privacy.” He opened the greenhouse door and indicated Tawny should go in ahead of him.

He didn’t waste any time on small talk. “So, you’re the pain in Warden Stoltz’s ass I’ve heard so much about.”

Tawny frowned. “I don’t understand. You sound as if you’ve heard my name before yesterday. From my lawyer?”

Director Dickinson smiled. “Oh, I heard an earful from TK Winchester, too. I’m referring to my niece, Wendy Corrigan.”

Tawny’s heart skipped a beat. “Your niece? May I ask a question?”

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