Yesterday's Tomorrows

Chapter 3

Maddy

The door swung open with a slight creak, and I looked into my new home for the first time. A few white tiles led to a carpeted living room, already furnished with a blue plaid couch and a solid blue wing-back chair. A maple-colored table held a television across from the couch. A couple of end tables with lamps completed the room.

Feeling a little self-conscious in front of the solemn man I'd left standing at the door, I wandered into the small kitchen that was a tiled extension of the living room. I gingerly ran my fingertips across the laminate countertops colored in various shades of browns and tans to look like granite. I almost couldn't wait to try to cook once again in this kitchen, which was newer than any kitchen I'd been in.

My grandmother's kitchen was the place where I'd learned to mix away my troubles. Hers had been bigger, but the wood counters were scratched and chipped, the stove had a burner that only heated the center coils, and the dial on her ancient oven had to be set about twenty-five degrees higher than recipes called for. But that hadn't held her back from making the most amazing dishes I'd ever sampled. And as her mother had taught her as a little girl, she passed her knowledge down to me. She taught me about measuring cups and spoons, but we rarely used them. Pshaw, she'd say, a good eye and the palm of your hand are all you need. I wasn't that good, and she'd laugh and call me a cheater when I pulled out the small, slightly dented metal nesting spoons or cups. Giggling, I'd hug her and remind her that she was one of a kind, and I'd never 'measure up' to her.

God, how I missed her - the one person who loved me unconditionally. I blinked back the tears that her memory invoked and hurried down a short hallway toward the one bedroom, feeling those dark eyes following me.

Inside the room, which was slightly larger than I expected, was a full-size bed outfitted simply with a plum-colored comforter with an ivory band embroidered in flowers across the center. It looked so soft I couldn't stop myself from sinking onto it. I closed my eyes as I ran my hand across the bedding that was so much better than the two-inch thick, narrow mattress I was accustomed to. I was sure it was as close as I'd ever be to curling up on a cloud. I grinned and fell backward on the bed with my arms flung wide, not missing the steel rails and cinderblock walls that I usually encountered if I stretched too far.

"I take it meets with your approval?"

I looked up to see Mr. Andrews leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved in his pockets and his ankles crossed. I couldn't tell from the glint in his eyes if he was amused or being sarcastic, but I suddenly felt such a sense of jubilation, not even Mr. Tall, Dark, and Moody was going to ruin this day for me. I moved my arms up and down as if making a snow angel. "It's wonderful! Like a slice of heaven on Earth!"

"Well, if you're done flopping around like a fish, I need to return to my office," he scowled.

I sat up but didn't move off the bed. I cocked my head in curiosity. "Are you always so grumpy or do I just bring out the worst in you?"

He frowned. "Maybe a bit of both." He turned and walked back toward the living room. "I have something for you from McCloskey," he called.

I scurried off the bed and followed him. A large, brown envelope was pushed in my hands. "If you don't need anything else, I'll leave you to settle in."

A little flurry of nerves shot through my stomach. When was the last time I'd had time to myself? Suddenly, even his company felt better than being alone. I swallowed hard and stuck out my hand. "Thank you for meeting me and, well, for everything."

He looked at me through thoughtful eyes that softened as if he could read my mind. "You'll be fine. Good luck to you, Ms. Stone." He squeezed my hand, then turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

I leaned my back against the door and closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions of being on my own for the first time in...well, ever. I'd been left alone a lot during my life, but I'd never lived on my own. Having lived the last fourth of my life constantly dictated to, I wasn't sure what to do next. I didn't have anyone to report to, I wasn't restricted from going anywhere, and I didn't have to worry about who might be lurking around the next corner. Yet, I still felt frozen with indecision. Was it possible to feel imprisoned by too much freedom?

Curious about the envelope Mr. Andrews had given me, I slid my finger under the flap and pulled out several papers stapled together. They looked like the lease for the apartment. The law firm had generously supplied the first month's rent, but I would be responsible after that. A handwritten note written in bold, block letters was paper-clipped to the top.

Dear Madelyn,

Welcome to your new home and a new beginning of your new life. I consider myself a shrewd judge of character, so I know you are more than deserving of this opportunity. Don't look backward, but focus on your future. You've paid a huge price to get here, but those roots you spoke of are severed. Grow. Thrive. Bloom. You deserve it.

Respectfully,

John and Emma McCloskey

The letters on the paper grew blurry as the tears I'd held back earlier refused to go away. I would never be able to repay John and Emma McCloskey, either for their generosity or their staunch belief in me. I didn't know for sure how my former third-grade teacher had found out about my circumstances, but once she had, she'd immediately sent her husband to me, and he set to work right away filing and arguing for my early release.

It hadn't taken long for me to recognize that my new lawyer not only excelled at his job arguing a case in a courtroom, but also in expelling knowledge from his newest client. Somehow, he'd gotten me to share things about myself that I'd never told anyone. If I were a criminal, I'd hate to be on a witness stand being cross-examined by him.

After Mr. M's initial visit to meet me to learn more about my case, he continued to make visits while he pursued the necessary paperwork. During those times, he asked questions about what it was I wanted to do before I was incarcerated. Slowly he pulled out the painful details of my broken family life and how I wanted to go to college and become a teacher. Eventually, he moved on to my plans once I was released. One day, he informed me of a new program his firm was developing to partner with released criminals to assist them back into the civilian world. I was suspicious of the timing and my deservedness, but he never faltered in his determination to convince me to apply for the opportunity. 'It's a chance to start over. Where else are you going to go? Why not you?'

I looked back at the paper in my hands. His words touched me. I knew he had carefully chosen them, especially his closing. Respectfully. He understood that I felt I'd lost all chance of being respected by anyone, including myself. In one word, he was trying to tell me I was worthy.

Thoughts of Holten Andrews drifted into my mind. It was obvious by his demeanor that he didn't think I deserved this opportunity. I wondered what he'd think of me if he'd met me under normal circumstances, out in town or at work, or if I didn't have a criminal background.

Oh, who was I fooling? I wasn't good enough for members of my own family. How could I be good enough for anyone else?

You need to love yourself first.

The words from the counselor we'd been forced to listen to as we were coached about re-entering the 'real world' played in my head. I wasn't stupid; I knew there was something to the sentiment. But she made it sound so easy. She spoke as if there was some magical formula to make everything better. I'd always been an excellent math student, and the laws of math dictated that adding zero to anything else still yielded the same. I felt like adding me to any situation was equivalent to adding nothing.

And yet Mr. M thinks you're worth taking a chance on, I reminded myself. According to him, I was more than a zero. For now, I would have to trust that his math was better than mine.