Devora's Spring

By Deborah Winfrey Keene

After thirty years in prison, Devora is finally free. And she's on a mission to find the infant daughter she left behind all of those years ago. Before she can do that she'll have demons to wrestle - both inside and out. After all, Life is no fairy tale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deborah Winfrey Keene
• Release date: Jan 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798218114824

Deborah Winfrey Keene

Deborah Winfrey Keene is a former criminal defense attorney, parole/probation officer, and legal educator in Michigan.

Book preview

DEVORA’S SPRING

Chapter One

Spring

April 2, 2018

Women’s Huron Valley Correctional Facility – Ypsilanti, MI

Finally! She was gonna go find her Spring. First, she’d have to lock horns with the beast. Devora looked up at the clock, then at it. She knew it better than most, so she walked right up to it, smiling all the way. The van would be out front soon, 8 a.m. sharp. No time to waste.

It started right away. You ready? You got everything? Big Mama charged in.

Here she goes, Devora thought. Yep, I got my stuff together last night and packed my bag this morning...like you told me.

Good child. Big Mama patted Devora’s hand. Let’s go over it one last time.

Devora’s stomach churned — as she nodded and agreed to her mentor’s demand.

The van drops me off at the Hall of Justice. My cousin is picking me up there. She’s letting me stay with her for three months.... No more.... So I have to get a job quick and get out of there. She looked away. She looked down. Then she went silent. It was Devora’s way. Sudden bursts. Then nothing.

When Big Mama signaled that she couldn’t hear well because of the noise, they scooted closer. The cafeteria was noisy. Inmates crowded the place, lining up for breakfast. The smell of powdery scrambled egg product and white bread toast filled the steamy spring air. The hard-as-concrete brown and gray industrial bench seating did its job: Folk didn’t linger after they’d finished a meal, so there was lots of coming and going about. Pleasant cafeteria workers in hair nets plopped the fabricated mush onto inmates’ steel trays as fast as they could while the girls moved down the line.

Now, what you gonna say when they ask where you’ve been working the last thirty years? Big Mama huffed. Then thrust a fist into her side, leaning into Devora’s personal space, like the evil stepmother.

My parole officer is gonna help me get a job...somewhere they already know about... my time here.

Big Mama treated Devora like a child. And Devora let her. She knew Big Mama’s stern tight-jawed expression was meant to help prepare her for the outside, but she’d outgrown Big Mama and resented having to perform. Quiet as it was kept, she liked having a mother figure. She’d learned how to turn on child-like Devora when it served her. It had come in handy when she was shuffled from one foster home to another. They wanted nice compliant girls and she’d learned to give them what they wanted. So it was with Big Mama.

Yes, Big Mama. You’re right, Big Mama. She shouldn’t have done that, Big Mama. You are so right... Okay, I’ll make sure to do that, Big Mama. Whatever it called for, she pulled out. She’d seen the consequences of getting on Big Mama’s bad side. Many girls had and they’d paid the price. Officers too.

Deft, Devora slid a couple of inches back. She was getting frustrated but held it in. She knew she’d better. She didn’t dare lose control.

Big Mama was tall like Devora, though a bit heavier. Not large, mind you. Everyone called her Big Mama because she was older than most of the inmates, including 49-year old Devora. She was also a mother figure to them. She listened to their problems, always relaxed, deliberate, and in control—and always had all the answers. Big Mama had a way of crawling inside of you. Devora had watched her operate for years. She felt guilty for not warning the new girls; but, she wanted out. Once I’m out of here, she’ll never see or hear from me again, was her mantra. She’d won.

Big Mama wore cornrows like Devora but nicer. Devora’s were okay, just not special. They were neat black cornrows going front to back, ending like treble clefs just below her ears. Big Mama’s auburn rows with greying roots also traversed her head from front to back, in a perfect herringbone pattern. Their warm tone complemented her light green eyes and her creamy dark fawn complexion.

Devora felt Big Mama had had to have been quite a catch in her younger years. Her charm, welcoming presence, and habit of going out of her way to help everyone gave her power. Control. Status. Over the years, however, she’d decided that everything about Big Mama was transactional.

Now, you got your parole papers, honey?

Yes, Big Mama.

Knowing she had larger battles ahead, Devora reached into the brown paper bag containing all that she owned she’d placed on the bench next to her. Fishing through it, she found the manila envelope with her important papers. She flipped through. Big Mama watched. Devora managed to stop her mind from racing when she’d felt her stomach quiver. Thank God. Her heartbeat quickened as she handed her papers to Big Mama.

Big Mama was special. A trusty inmate, she could walk through the prison unsupervised, along with other special privileges. To her credit, she took care of the younger inmates. As if by magic, she could get things for them. Whether it was a special commissary order, recreation time, or even a job, Big Mama could make it happen.

In truth, Devora had a love-hate relationship with her. On the one hand, she owed Big Mama big time for pulling strings to get her into a brand-new computer training class. It had changed her life. She’d mastered word processing – no problem. So her teacher challenged her with spreadsheet and database management. From there, she was on her own. The high, the rush she felt when working with graphic design was like floating through the clouds. The teacher had given her free rein to explore all the computer had to offer.

Email management was a snap. She learned to set up video conferences, coding, and HTML formatting. But her heart was in graphic design. That sent her sailing into another world, in the clouds—exploring and pushing the boundaries of an artistic talent she’d not realized she had. Devora had become known as the prison’s computer whiz. She was a natural and never felt more at home than when she was at a computer. It was the challenge she needed to make life behind bars bearable. She was most proud when summoned to troubleshoot problems in the administrative offices that the clerical staff couldn’t handle. Big Mama had made all of it possible. She’d given Devora life.

Watching Big Mama laser-focused on her parole orders, Devora thought, what the hell does she know about parole? She’s never been on parole and never will be. She’s gonna die in here. Everyone knew Big Mama was doing mandatory life for killing her three little girls. No one knew why though. They talked about it amongst themselves but never with Big Mama. Maybe that’s why she was intent on mothering all the girls—to make up for killing her own kids, Devora thought. At first, she had loved Big Mama’s help. It was a mother’s love she’d never known. But after a while, Devora had started to resent Big Mama being so deep in her business.

How’re you getting to the parole office?

"My cousin is taking me."

It says here you have to be there once a week. Big Mama pointed to the green eight-and-a-half-by-eleven-inch paper with Devora’s rules of the road for the next three years. She have that kind of time?

It’s once a week for the first month. Jaws clinched, she added, ....after that it’s just once a month. Devora’s voice slowed and softened almost to a whisper – frustration mounting. Mind racing. Stomach churning.

Oh, okay, baby Big Mama whispered, staring at the paper. What about your treatment...your counseling? I don’t see it here. Big Mama looked up from the paper and stared at Devora.

"I don’t have to do it anymore.......I’m finished."

Who says?

"Dr. Bob.... You know, my psychiatrist...maybe I do, but maybe I don’t. Devora snorted, snatching the papers from Big Mama and stuffing them back in the envelope. I have a letter from him." She pressed the envelope to her chest, then held her head high.

She was feeling full of herself—or maybe it was Hester, her closest confidante. Whichever it was, she chuckled to herself. That’s right. We fooled him too! Like Big Mama, Hester treated Devora like a child. Devora’s only way of fighting back was with the medication she’d refused to take of late.

Seeing Big Mama through glassy eyes, Devora knew she was losing control. She’d sworn she wouldn’t. She’d practiced what she’d do instead. Over and over. But Hester was upon her. Heart racing and stomach churning, she knew she needed to get out of there. Instead, she bolted straight up, looked down on Big Mama—who didn’t look so big anymore—and unloaded. Devora let her have it about everything, including Spring, her daughter.

Look, I’m gonna live with my cousin, do my parole, get a job, start looking for a place to live! she screamed, stuffing her envelope back into her bag of stuff. Then she took a deep breath, looked Big Mama square in the eye, and screamed, and I’m gonna go find Spring!

For the first time since Devora had known her, Big Mama seemed discombobulated. Were those tears welling in her eyes? That’s when Devora also realized that everyone in the cafeteria was staring at them, and that she’d been shouting.

Her sorrow was immediate. She looked down. Silent. The hurt in Big Mama’s eyes pained her. Despite her problems, having a soft heart wasn’t one of them. Devora loved deep. Even Big Mama. But she also loved her baby, even though she hadn’t seen her in over thirty years. And she was on a mission to find her. Devora had dreamed of the day she’d look into her daughter’s eyes. Touch her. Feel her. Rub her smooth, chubby cheeks. She’d hug her and never let her go.

Sit down, child! Big Mama yelled, pointing a finger in Devora’s face.

Devora bristled. Then sat.

"Listen to me. How many times have we talked about this? You claim to love that girl, but let’s be real. You haven’t seen that child in thirty years!"

Devora’s shoulders slumped. Her heart flopped.

Do you really think you could be a mother to her now? Big Mama straightened herself on the bench, both legs straddling it as she leaned in. Huh? It’s best to let the child go on with her life...and you go on with yours.

Diverting her gaze from Big Mama, Devora’s heart sank even more, seeing inmates look away when she caught them staring at her.

She’s all I got, Devora whispered, shaking her head and looking to Big Mama for understanding. I know it’s been a long time, but she’s still mine. I just want to see her. Touch her. Touch my blood... And explain where I’ve been.

Listen, I know how you feel, baby. I know. But sometimes you just have to let go. Listen, your baby couldn’t even walk or talk when you came in here. I know you don’t want to hear it, but...she won’t remember you...see, you’ve never been a mother...not a real mother.

That stung. Devora’s heart stiffened and her back straightened. Big Mama’s admonishment pierced her to the core. Still treating me like a child, she thought, tightening her grip on the table and bench beneath her.

Listen –life’s not a fairy tale, baby. Being a mother can be hard.

Gently, Big Mama wiped the single tear making its way down Devora’s cheek. Honey, I know the truth hurts. She grasped Devora’s head with both hands, she turned it so that they were eye to eye. Would Big Mama steer you wrong? I’m just looking out for you. I want you to make it out there. I love you like I love all my girls. I want all my girls to make it.

Devora took Big Mama’s hands from her face and held onto them, never losing eye contact. I’m gonna make it. She whispered, I’m gonna make it because of you. I was a young, know-it-all child with a huge chip on my shoulder, when I came here.  She paused, closed her eyes, shrugged her shoulders then shivered thinking back on how things were – before Big Mama. You showed me the ropes, how to get along with the other girls, staff, and you got me in the computer classes.... You saved my life, she murmured, looking down at her hands.

Big Mama looked around the cafeteria at nothing before looking back to her charge.

"With what I can do with computers, I’ll be able to get me a good job. And it’s all because of you, Big Mama."

Baby. Big Mama stroked Devora’s hair, stared into her eyes and pleaded, listen to your mama then—

—I can do my parole, work, find a place to live, and look for Spring at the same time. I know I can do it all, Big Mama. And it’s because of you. She paused, then grasped Big Mama’s hands in her own. But I hear you...I’ll give it some more thought.

Devora was lying, and she knew Big Mama knew it.

7:55 a.m. Five minutes til freedom. Under the watch of officers, Devora and Big Mama left the cafeteria and walked past the officers staffed at the Control Center, where they were buzzed through. Once in the lobby, Devora caught her first glimpse of freedom.

They were a striking pair—Devora and Big Mama. Two tall, mature figures walking with purpose and self-assurance, despite having spent most of their lives behind bars. Two strong women. Survivors. Convicted killers.

Devora walked slower than normal to match Big Mama’s pace. She’d had a stroke a few years earlier that affected her gait. Big Mama tried to disguise it. Devora pretended not to notice. As they walked toward the officers who would escort Devora to the van, they encountered a surly new inmate who was giving officers a hard time.

A new project for Big Mama.

As they got closer, Devora couldn’t bring herself to look at the young woman. She seemed all too familiar. It broke her heart to see the girl starting the journey that she was finishing. Devora and Big Mama moved past the fledgling, minding their own business.

Big Mama stopped at the door as Devora took her first steps back into the world. She walked to the van with her bag of stuff and an increasingly nagging self-doubt.

DEV-ora? the driver asked as she stepped in the van.

My name is De-VORA! she snapped.

Startled, the pale, portly driver quickly turned to his clipboard and checked off her name.

Devora gave Big Mama a final wave before taking her seat. She was excited, but even more frightened. Since being removed from the Wilbourn foster home, she’d longed for the day she could be on her own. In control of her own life. No one could hurt or reject her again.

That day had finally arrived, but there was no elation. The sun struggled to peek through gloomy gray clouds. Birds didn’t sing. Devora didn’t feel sunny and bright. All she felt was fear clawing its way back into her heart, the way she’d felt the day social worker Quinlan yanked her and Jeff from Mama Wilbourn all those years ago.

Today, there was no Jeff. And there was no Jacques to plan a future with. She was on her own.

As the van lurched forward, Devora heard an all-too-familiar commanding voice from within say, hold on, sista. It might be a bumpy ride. Life’s no fairy tale, you know. Devora sat back and held on.

*****

After watching the van pull away, Big Mama turned around and was making her way toward the Control Center when she saw that new inmate she’d have to groom. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. A bit heavy with a large afro and a pretty round face. Fresh from quarantine, she was being escorted toward her permanent house, carrying the requisite scratchy sheets, paper-thin blanket, and assorted toiletries in hand.

I’m Big Mama. What’s your name?

I’m Chunky, came the young woman’s answer, punctuated with an upturned lip.

Big Mama could not help but notice that Chunky had an odd way of looking at her yet not quite looking at her.

Where’re you lockin’ and what’s your bit?

I’m lockin’ on Three West. I hear there’re some crazy bitches up there. Mess with me, and they’ll see some crazy, all right... I got a thirty to forty-five bit for murder two. Can you believe that shit? No way I’m doing that kind of time.

Big Mama nodded.

My lawyer’s getting me out of here long before that.

Nothing new. Big Mama heard this tough talk from fish all the time.

As Chunky walked on with the officer, Big Mama shouted back to her, Chunky, what’s your real name? I try to help everybody out, especially when they’re new. I need to know where I can find you.

Spring, she shouted. "My name is Spring.

Chapter Two

Back in the World

April 3, 2018

Mel’s House

Close the damned door, for God’s sake! Melody, Devora’s cousin, grumbled her way down the hall.

Quickly, Devora stretched to shut the bathroom door from her seat on the toilet. Mel, as she was called, kept a neat and clean bathroom. It was tiny, but, like the rest of the house, spotless. Despite Mel’s order, Devora left a sliver of daylight so that she could see the hallway. Being incarcerated had a way of making one want to avoid confined spaces. For the past thirty years, she’d relieved herself for all the world to see. No such thing as privacy. Ever. So it hadn’t crossed her mind to close the door. Being back in the world would be more of an adjustment than she’d thought.

When she’d arrived at Mel’s the day before, she’d been excited to see Mel’s laptop on the kitchen table as soon as she’d walked through the front door. Finding Spring might be easier than she’d thought. She longed to stroke the smooth black keys again. They’d calm her. They