Escaping Redemption - The Sequel to "Leaving Grangeville"

By Kimberly R. Cimorelli

Fresh from a fifteen-year stint in prison, Sofia Beauchamp comes back to Grangeville, Texas. Her homecoming reintroduces her to the town she was so desperate to get away from, but the silver lining is that she finally gets acquainted with the daughter she was forced to give up, so many years ago. Hard feelings, resentment, and bitterness coldly greet her, the moment she arrives back. This includes her daughter Zooey, who wants nothing to do with her. Still, nothing prepares her for the bigger surprise she had in store for her. Or the rollercoaster ride she embarks on, when her daughter is taken by a dangerous drug cartel, leading her on a goose-chase ending in Mexico. Perhaps for good. Follow Sofia as she embarks on an impulsive journey that has many twists and turns, as she connects and disconnects with everyone around her. Every decision she makes brings her closer and closer to rock bottom. Will she find her way back home?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781678173029

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Escaping Redemption - The Sequel to "Leaving Grangeville"

Escaping Redemption

The Sequel to Leaving Grangeville.

By Kimberly R. Cimorelli

© 2014, Kimberly R. Cimorelli.  All Rights Reserved

ISBN 978-1-67817-302-9

Published by K R Cimorelli

First Edition: 2014

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited in any form. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

PART I

CHAPTER 1

The dry, warm breeze was abrasive against my face, and although I knew this feeling well, it felt like I was just now feeling it for the first time.  I stared at the highway in the distance that pulsated with life, and my own heartbeat seemed reinvigorated by the lack of barbed-wire fence between it and I. 

Fifteen years of incarceration.  Fifteen years of guarded concrete walls and zero privacy.  Five thousand, four hundred and seventy-five days of defeat and survival.  Learning how to live in an environment where you either conform or get punished - and I'm not just talking about the legal system; I'm also talking about inmates who have formed cliques, ranks, and a government of their own.  Forming relationships, friendships, alliances... These were the key to life behind bars, and it took considerable time for me to adjust, and not concern myself with everything outside of those walls that I was missing out on.

Now I was being emptied from the confines of it all to find a place in normal society again.  It was suddenly more intimidating than where I'd spent the last fifteen years.

Remember, if you need anything at all, or if you feel prone to do something you're not supposed to, you better call me. 

I pried my eyes from absently looking out the passenger window to look at Judy Williams, my parole officer.  She was the one who came to pick me and my small bag of personal items up from the gray, looming Texas prison to take me to the place where all my trouble first began.  I nodded at her and glanced down at her business card that she handed me.  I know.  Thank you.

She sighed and stared back out at the highway ahead of us.  I want you to succeed, Sofia.  And you will, as long as you know that this is not going to be easy.

No, I knew it wouldn't be.  I spent my entire childhood planning my escape from Grangeville, Texas.  Well, it was a mission I managed to accomplish, after getting myself into enough trouble that I was originally sentenced to twenty-five years in prison.  A conviction that was derived from the fatal shooting of Grangeville's sheriff, amongst robberies and a few other charges.  At the time, I knew I deserved it.  Then, time spent in jail turned into good behavior that was rewarded by a lesser sentence.  Actually, it had more to do with making room for other criminals who were potentially more dangerous than I was considered.  Either way, it landed me to restored freedom.  Kind of.  Parole came with rules, and even that had me nervous; rules were never something I was good at abiding by.

Prison had a way of keeping me in check, though.

The closer we got to the town I grew up in, the more apprehensive I got.  I knew Judy could sense it.  She and I had spent some time together since my release date was arranged, and she seemed to be pretty in tune with me.  She had faith in me.  She was convinced I was a good enough person to deserve a second chance at life. 

I hoped she was right.

The population sign had been updated.  It looked new, and the number of residents had risen to three hundred and four.  Main Street had gotten a facelift of sorts, in the time since I'd been here, last.  When I realized that we were approaching my father's garage business, my fingertips pressed to the window and a breath clung to the insides of my lungs.  Anticipation personified as tears instantly welled at the old automotive shop that looked just the same as I always remembered it; save for the fresh coat of blue paint that it proudly wore now. 

Judy cast a glance at me in my peripheral vision.  How are you doing?

I nodded my head, trying to blink away tears.  I'm okay.  It sounded more like I was trying to convince myself.

Let me know if you need me to pull off the road for a minute, okay?

I nodded, but said nothing.  This just needed to hurry up and happen.  I never was one for slowly pulling a band-aid off.  Was there really any way to prepare for this moment?  No.  I continued to fidget with her business card between my fingers, and I trembled as she turned into the driveway I used to play in, as a little girl.

You're home.  She tried to sound upbeat, but I was hesitant to get out of the comforting confines of her car.  Would you like me to go in with you?

I shook my head.  No, that's alright.  I picked up my bag of belongings, but instead of reaching for the door handle, I clutched them in my lap and stared at the small house that I grew up in.  The cars out front let me know that there were people inside.  People that were not expecting me.  People that I hadn't had contact with, face-to-face, in years. 

I can wait here for a few moments while you go inside, she offered. 

What, in case I run out of there screaming?  I chuckled, but the pity in her eyes confirmed that, yes, that was exactly why she suggested it.  I shook my head and reached for the door handle.  Thanks for everything, Judy.

I’ll be by to check on you in a few days, okay?

I shoved the car door open and inhaled a deep breath before faking an assuring smile at her.  Absolutely.

She stayed in the driveway to watch my ascent to the front door of my parents' house.  My heart was in my throat, and my head was swimming with endless wonder.  The shuffle of my footsteps over the gravel was loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, and it took forever for me to reach the front porch.  How would they receive me?  Would they even let me come in?  I couldn't look back at the sedan that sat running in the driveway, for fear of her seeing my uncertainty.  Was I just supposed to walk in, like I still lived there?  Do I knock? 

I hesitated, but my knuckles rattled the door.  I held my breath in wait.  Flashbacks of police at the door mixed with regrets that welled in the pit of my stomach and swirled around with my nerves.  Nervous.  Worried.  Sick.  Apprehensive.  The doorknob turned, and I didn't know what to expect as the front door then opened. 

My mother's lips parted with surprise, and her pretty face looked no different from when I saw it, last.  She threw the screen door open, and her eyes were instantly wet with tears.  A hug that I did not expect found its way to me, and I buried my face in her shoulder to enjoy the first physical contact I had with her since everything went down…

Sofia!  My name was whispered tearfully into my ear.  She kissed my cheek.  She grabbed my shoulders and took a step back to get a good look at me.  When did you get out?  We - I - had no idea!  Did Johnny know?

Johnny…  No, I answered her with a slight shake of my head.  I hadn't mentioned it in any of my letters to him.  I kind of wanted it to be a surprise.

She looked as excited and overwhelmed as I felt.  She cast a look over my shoulder, and I followed her gaze to give the woman in the car a wave that signaled it was okay for her to leave.  Who's that?

Judy Williams.  My parole officer.  I gave her a wry smile.

Parole, she echoed, before looking back over me.  Where are you staying?

I winced at her.  I have nowhere to go, I informed her.

She swallowed that piece of information and then blinked with a spirited nod.  Okay then, let's get you inside, shall we?

I followed her into the quiet comfort of the house.  I pursed my lips together tight, and eyed this structure that was exactly the same as it had always been.  All of the kitchen appliances had been replaced.  The living room furniture was new.  I stood in the tiny living room and stared down the short hallway of doors leading to shoebox-sized bedrooms.  I'm glad y'all got to keep the house, I stated softly.

Her smile was slight.  We had some tough times, she acknowledged. 

There was an awkward silence that followed.  I wondered if it had anything to do with the circumstances that allowed them to keep this place.  I know my thoughts certainly floated to the robbery I committed just to ascertain the money it took to pay off their debts…  Well, I'm glad you're still here, was all I could manage. 

Your father will be home soon.  I could see if he wants to bring Johnny with him, she offered brightly. 

I nodded.  This was weird.  Everything felt weird.  I was self-conscious.  This had to be normal, right?  Sure, I spoke, as her eyes followed my gaze down that hallway again.

He will be so happy to see you.  They both will.  She looked uneasy where she stood. 

Is she here?  My eyes lingered on the bedroom door that was once mine.  It was closed, but there was music coming from inside of it. 

I figured you could just use Johnny's old room, in the meantime.  Until you get on your feet.

She didn't answer my question.  Is Zooey in there?  I pointed.

And she looked utterly reluctant, shifting upon her feet.  Sofia, she spoke with pleading eyes.  We didn't have any warning, or time to prepare her...

Warning?  Like I was a threat?  I cast her a hurt look and then started for the door. 

Sofia, she doesn't even know who you are!

Every word was more hurtful than the last.  Of course she doesn't, Mother.  You took her from me when she was an hour old and then never brought her to see me.  I threw her a resentful glance and then knocked on the door. 

Can’t we talk about this first?  Her whisper of a plea fell upon deaf ears. 

And then the door opened, and the breath was stolen from my lungs.

Blue was all I could see, when her startled eyes caught sight of me.  Looking like a spitting image of me and my own momma, she was almost exactly as I remember myself at her age. 

Though, her eyes spoke of something and someone completely different.

She knew exactly who I was.  Didn't she?  How could she not?  Looking at one another like a mirror reflecting through generations of time, neither of us - none of us - could speak for a moment. 

I just felt like my heart was about to burst.

Zooey, my mother spoke up.  Your mother’s home, now.

The pretty fifteen year old girl standing before me flicked her eyes over at my mother, confused.  This is a surprise, she spoke with a voice that sounded like my own.  But, Jesus, those eyes… They assessed me again for a moment.  Welcome home, she said politely.

Honey, you can give her a hug.  It's okay, my mother urged.

She absolutely looked as if she’d rather not.  Awkwardly, this perfect girl that I dreamt about since before she was born, all during my trial process, and then given birth to in a jail hospital in secret, stepped forward and entered my embrace for a hug so tight I had to force myself to loosen for fear of breaking her.  I could've felt so many things in this moment - resentful, angry, robbed, bitter, and hateful - but finally holding her in my arms erased any ounce of negativity that I previously felt entitled to. 

My daughter.  My flesh and blood.  Taken from me to be raised in the very town that I grew up despising. 

Not a minute has passed by since the day you were born that I haven't thought of you, I wanted her to know.  I needed her to know it.  All the letters I wrote, every single day.  Never a response.  Did you get all the mail I sent you?

She nodded.  Yeah, I did.  Thank you.

Polite.  Awkward.  So cordial, like she was talking to an acquaintance.  Or a stranger.  You're beautiful, I remarked, looking her over.  Beautiful and perfect.  Just as I figured you’d be.  My tiny smile was comprised of intrigue.  We’ve got a lot to catch up on, I put out there.

Sofia, calm down.  My mother released a small nervous laugh.  We have all the time in the world, right?

I recognized the shift of weight upon Zooey's feet.  Standoffish.  It was a signature move of mine.  She curiously looked me over through slightly narrowed eyes.  You randomly showing up here after all this time with no warning is a surprise, she made sure I knew.

I guess this felt every bit as strange as I knew it would be.  My hands found my hips, and I felt at a loss for words.  I know, I acknowledged softly.  Never too late to start making up for lost time though, right?

She reached for her backpack and stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.  Well, maybe you'll get that chance, she told me.  But right now, I'm late for work.  She reached up onto her tip-toes and kissed my mother on the cheek.  I’ll see you later, Mamaw.

And then she was gone. 

CHAPTER 2

"Maribel, I know this job.  I can do it blindfolded."

The cynical little old woman staring back at me put one hand on her hip.  "No, you used to know this job.  Now you don't."

I cocked my head at her.  You have a new computer. So what?!

Not hiring.

I pointed at the sign in the window.  "It says 'Help Wanted,' right there!"

She frowned.  "Then I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm not hiring you," she declared before turning her back to me. 

I exited the Stop-n-Stay Motel and I had to count backwards from ten on the way to the '57 Chevy pickup that I learned to drive on.  I'd definitely seen and driven better vehicles than this one, since.  Expensive SUVs, hot little sports cars, luxurious sedans.  We stole all kinds of them, on our little adventure...

An adventure that managed to place me as the enemy of everyone I returned home to, after my stint in prison.  As if my sentence wasn't bad enough.  You'd think these people would've forgotten, already.  But no. 

Instead, their dirty looks and unkind words crucified me on a daily basis, finding me even beyond the confines of that fortress-of-a-prison I was tucked away at.

Johnny's comin' back over tonight, my father declared, joining me on the back porch.  He brought me a cold beer that I appreciatively took from his hand.  He and Andie are bringin' the kids so you can meet 'em.

I’d once wanted a different life for my brother than to get stuck in Grangeville.  I’d hoped he would follow a future doing something he loved - riding dirt-bikes - and getting the hell out of this God-forsaken town. 

Instead, he married the pastor's daughter and worked at our father's automotive business. 

He had come over by himself, the night before.  Probably just to gauge how different or even further tainted by the justice system I might’ve become.  His skepticism was replaced by the look of complete awe that overtook both of our faces just to be reunited again.  Growing up, I loved my brother more than I loved my own life.  He was even more handsome now than he was as the bright-eyed teen I left behind when I went on the run.  Oh my God, Sofia!  He was so tall that as he hugged me to him, my face was being crushed into his chest.  This is the best day ever!

It was the best day ever, regardless of how odd it all felt.

You gonna refrain from punchin' Andie in the face tonight?

My father's question stirred me back into the here-and-now.  Smirking, I looked over at him while he settled into the lawn chair a few feet to my left.  Depends.  Is she still the shit-talking little twit she was when we were kids?

He chuckled and brought his beer bottle upward for a sip.  It's certainly safe to say she hasn't changed much.  Just behave yourself, okay?  We just got you back.  He shot me a pointed look.

I sighed.  Yeah, yeah.

His eyes lingered upon me, in a mixture of sadness and relief.  He took a swig of beer, and then turned his stare to follow mine into the vacant fields leading all the way up to the setting sun.  Zooey will come around.  It was more of a hope than a promise.

Every day I wrote to her, I reminded him softly.  Some days, I didn’t even know what to say.  I just wanted to make sure I sent her something, so that she knew I was thinking of her.  He knew.  He knew, because he was one of the few people who wrote me back.  If not for the pictures and letters you and Mom and Johnny wrote me, I wouldn't have known her at all.

You'll have to forgive her for being as hard-headed as her momma.

Our eyes met, and the charming smile over my daddy's face transferred over to mine.  I've missed out on a lot.

You talked to him?  At all?

I shook my head.  No.  Not since the trial. 

He continued to stare at the sunset displayed before us. She's been well taken care of, you know.

I have no doubt.

And I'm not tryin' to bring up old stuff, but we owe you a lot.

I shook my head.  Just glad things got better for everyone after I left.

He looked to me.  You say that like you being here would've made it worse.

I took a sip of the ice cold beer that kept my hand cool.  It probably would've.  What kind of curfew did you guys give my kid?  She still wasn't home when I fell asleep last night?

She works late, Sofia.  Normally, she don't get home until almost midnight.

The beers continued to flow freely, especially after my brother Johnny's arrival.  Andie Johnston - sorry, Andie Beauchamp - had put on enough baby weight to make me feel as if that was sufficient punishment for being a hateful wench when we were growing up, but she still had a pretty face and a penchant for summer dresses, as was apparent by her choice of garb this evening.  Their kids were ten and seven, and the boy was my little brother all over again.  They were sweet and well-mannered.  As us adults sat on the porch and watched them bounce around in the kiddie pool my parents bought for them, it reminded me of how much I missed out on.

When my daughter came strolling out to join us, it further drove that point home.

She tossed us all a half-smile and stopped beside my father to drape an arm around his shoulder.  She wore short shorts and a tank top, and her long dark hair flowed as long as mine had, at her age.  She was thin and lanky with a pretty face, and her eyes that were the same shade as the sky looked stunning against her tan.  She waited until I stopped studying her before she glanced at me just briefly. 

Time.  She needed time.  I needed to be patient.  I was her mother. 

But man, this sucked...

James Hicks told me to tell you hi.

It took me a second, before I realized she was talking to me.  My head snapped around to where my daughter was eyeballing me with a smirk.  My eyebrow lifted, and I shifted in my seat.  James is still alive?  That's a surprise.

He's the assistant manager at the store, she disclosed.

The store you work at, I take it?

She nodded, but the sly look remained.  He wanted me to congratulate you for making it out of the pen.

You can tell him congratulations on his liver still functioning, I told her with a tight smile. 

Maybe he can hire you on at the store, since no one else in town will give you a job!  Andie's tone was bright.  The look on her face was innocent. 

I didn't even respond.  I sipped my beer and continued to stare out at the kids splashing around.  When I heard the ringing of a cell phone, my head whipped around once more to see Zooey take one from her back pocket and wander inside to answer it. 

My kid’s got a cell phone?

All teenagers do, these days.

No, I don’t think you get it.  I stared at my brother.  When I left, cell phones were still obsolete, here.  When did you guys finally get a tower?

He laughed and flashed me his signature smile.  Sis, we've been movin' on up in the world for the last decade.

I continued to feel out-of-the-loop.

Zooey re-emerged from inside the house, and her hurried footsteps aroused my curiosity while she pecked my father on the forehead and spoke in hushed tones.  Where are you headed so fast? 

She paused and those beautiful blue eyes blinked while she considered her lie.  I left something at work, was all she said, before skipping down from the front porch to grab her bicycle. 

Johnny intervened by poking my arm and pointing my attention at the bickering kids splashing around in the blow-up pool.  His laughter was eclipsed by the yapping of his wife, who bounced up from her chair to go snap at them to behave, and re-delegate the toys they were fighting over and now crying about. 

Did Zooey have anyone to play with, like that, as a child?  I looked to him, trying not to look as sad as I felt.

You mean, did she scream and cry and act like a brat like those two are doing?  The sparkle in his eye was mischievous.  She had plenty of folks around to keep her entertained, he assured me, as his eyes roamed from his wife back unto me.  We’ve missed ya around here, he spoke softly between us. 

The feeling was mutual.  I downed the rest of my beer and then rose to my feet.  Another?  Johnny shook his head, and I turned to our father.  Dad?

Yeah, I’ll have another one.  Thank ya.

I sauntered back into a house that felt not much cooler than the sweltering heat outside.  Ceiling fans were going nuts trying to circulate the dry, hot air and the country music my dad had turned on, out on the porch, followed me inside.  No, my efforts to keep my parents from losing their house fifteen years ago were definitely worth it.  As much as I wanted to get away from this town growing up, there was something about this house that made me believe my parents didn’t really belong anywhere else. 

Anyhow.  It was all water under the bridge, at this point.

On the way to the bathroom, I passed Zooey’s door.  I dared to push it open and step inside to let the interior of her bedroom wrap itself around me.  Normal teenage clutter spilled in the form of clothing from her bedcovers to the floor.  Schoolbooks and fashion magazines were scattered all over her desk.  Papers with school assignments were peppered all over it, and crinkled under more and more items being shoved upon them. 

A stack of envelopes pushed toward the back of the pile caught my attention.  I never really was one to pry, but I think my compulsion to get more personal with the daughter I never had contact with is what guided me forward to take a closer look.  I brushed some papers from the top of the stack to find that there were multiple stacks, a few feet high on the desktop.  Envelopes addressed to her, in my handwriting.

None of them had been opened.  They were all sealed shut, and they went back for at least two years.

Should I have felt as upset as I did, that very instant?  Did I have any right to be hurt and angry that she never opened any of the correspondence I was now staring at?  Did she ever open them?!  Did my parents ever read them to her, when she was little?

Did she care at all that she had a mother out there who thought about her, day-in and day-out???

My mother’s voice preceded her into the house, and the screen door shut behind her.  It rerouted my upset, and with a stomach that felt sick I marched from where I stood back out into the kitchen.  She was humming with her back to me.  For a moment, I couldn’t even speak. 

But when she turned around and found me scowling and clutching a hand full of sealed envelopes, she immediately knew what was going through my mind.

Sofia, where did you…?  Why are you holding those?

I slapped them down on the kitchen counter, between us.  Has she always ignored my letters?