Simeon's Promise: Simeon's Promise, #1

By Lewis Kelley

Vowing to honor an impossible promise, Simeon Carver, a black man falsely damned to a hellish fate, emerges from Fort Leavenworth Penitentiary into the company of the Secretary of State's daughter, Nadine Porter, the very woman who, while suffering from mental illness fourteen years before, fabricated the terrible lie that robbed him of his life—and liberty.

A still unstable Nadine has come forward with the stunning truth that sets Simeon free and led to the beginning of their emotion-filled, unfathomable attempt at reconciliation. When she disappears however shortly after his release, the trail leads toward unexpected discoveries of an intricately veiled deception. A deception that makes men loyal to Nadine's father eager to kill to keep it secret. And the life of an orphaned ex-convict means less than nothing to any of them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lewis Kelley
• Release date: Apr 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215254516

Lewis Kelley

Lewis Kelley has lived an eclectic existence; husband, father, author, soldier, athlete, coach and firefighter have encompassed some of the stops along the way. He lives in Colorado with his wife. He is the author of the Auslander and Simeon's Promise series, as well as, Consider Job(e). Along with living life, he is hard at work on several writing projects which will be made available as they become ready.

Book preview

More from Lewis Kelley:

Foreign Son

(Book 1 in the Auslander series)

Flight

(Book 2 in the Auslander series)

Consider Job€

Coming Soon:

Simeon’s Promise II

(Homecoming)

Petra

An Auslander Book

Elise

An Auslander Book

Baby Girl

Archaea

Visit Lewis Kelley’s website for more information about upcoming books and events.

Created in association with Auslander LLC and Anisha’

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

The cataloging-in-publication data is on file with the Library of Congress.

The subject matter in this work is adult in nature and requires parental discretion. It is not intended for children.

SIMEON’S PROMISE IS dedicated to humankind and its struggles and triumphs throughout this life.  

Prologue

July

Amother and father’s desperate forewarnings weren’t enough. Simeon was anxious—breathless. Soon he would leave Leavenworth Penitentiary and stand face-to-face with her . Fourteen years of life lost because of that mad woman ’s lies... The thought replayed endlessly, robbing him of his superficial calm. He survived the world she condemned him to by embracing the same emotionally detached fog each morning his eyelids fluttered open. Emerging from that place hurt in ways he never imagined.

Purging his lungs, he shuddered with a numbing realization. His paralysis was as real as the man standing in front of him spewing words that refused to register against his stopped ears. Within the space of three heartbeats he understood more. Full understanding of who he was, what he lost, and what it would take to restore his spirit would take place only through the continued passage of time—a phenomenon he understood uniquely.

He immediately hated this part of his awakening—the anguish of coming back to himself. Desperately trying to reconcile the confusion ravaging his emotions, he forced the torment deeper, and gradually he felt the damning sentiments ebb and his anxiety fade. This was his solution. His tortured rebirth would remain buried until he could manage it. Even then he would allow his consciousness to surface one controlled fragment at a time. Now he could comprehend again. The frantic words filling the void surrounding him started to register.

1

Fort Leavenworth Penitentiary, Kansas

Already tepid, the heat inside the space deepened. Sweat beaded on the surface of Skully’s forehead, forming miniature, translucent balls that dripped off his brow. He wouldn’t have another chance to be alone with the man glaring back at him with flames smoldering behind his pupils. His jaw clenched as he made the agonizing decision to release the hard words roiling inside him.

I don’t know how to get inside that stubborn head of yours other than doing this raw and real... He stepped closer. You walking out of here—leaving with the woman that did this to you—I can’t think of anything more demented, Simeon. Skully saw the hard twitch to his colleague’s jaw. He didn’t care. "You keep rambling on about forgiveness... But that ain’t real life. Some things are unforgivable. Remember this about the people waiting for you out there in that self-absorbed, posturing world.  The bulk of those selfish bastards will burn anyone to get what they want. Most don’t have loyalties to no one but themselves. At least here there’s sameness—as barbaric as it is... Beyond the scheming opportunists, no one’s going to care what your story is, or nothing about any wrongful conviction. Skully’s rage deepened as the thoughts that twisted his gut in knots spilled out of him like fermented bile. That female’s the reason you got the privilege of spending half your life shackled inside one of these cages like some wild beast. Her lies already stole your past...  Why would you give her the chance to rob you of your future too?"

Skully pushed so close this time his hot breath stung the nostrils of the man opposite him. "What happens when that woman and her diseased brain decide to accuse you of something else? You’ll be back inside...passing your life with the same heartless convicts until they drag you out again feet first. That’s if they don’t execute your black ass next time—that’s not any white girl you’re dealing with. I know you didn’t forget how that worked against you the first time. I’m Italian...I’ve heard those closed conversations you never could. Here it is straight. Not everyone likes watching you brothers walking around free with your blue-eyed snow-queen on your arm. Those kinds of people won’t care about the story behind what they’re seeing. As soon as you’re out there that’s only part of what you have to deal with. You do remember her politician daddy, don’t you? What do you think a man in his position feels about little homey, just got out the penitentiary yesterday, standing on the doorstep with his lily-white baby girl? Can I come in, please, sir? Oh, and will you take me on a tour of the White House?

You need to walk away from him and his insane daughter at the same time...let her go, Simeon. You’ve got enough to deal with just getting back to being you again and not some emotionally crippled ex-con who forgot how to live free."

The pause after the blunt words was brief—charged with misery. I want nothing to do with fighting that man or anyone else, Skully. I’ve had enough of that struggle for one lifetime... And I was born in this skin. Living in it isn’t something I could forget even if I wanted to. This world and the way it sees me drummed that lesson into my skull a long time ago. Simeon raised his head until the two men stood eye to eye. "I might get burned again... I’m taking that chance anyway because I’ve got nothing but my promise to my parents left to live for..." He stopped to clear his throat. It was a weak attempt at disguising the fear building inside him. ...and as crazy as Nadine is she did finally tell the truth... She didn’t have to.

Truth? Skully grunted obscenely before spitting on the worn cement floor outside the cell. "That calculating lunatic took fourteen years to remember your truth... She waited until an innocent man’s best years were almost gone—until thugs cut your ass up so bad you should be dead. The way I see it, she revealed her little secret when it was convenient. You haven’t thought that maybe she decided it was time for act two in the play to begin and she needed you out there with her to make it happen? You’re that woman’s dangling little black puppet jumping for her amusement...a modern day sambo...and it’s time to dance again, boy," Skully spat mockingly, disgustedly.

My mother had a saying... Simeon broke in aggressively. ...God doesn’t always give us all the answers. I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t believe I’m being played like that.

Skully gritted ivory-colored teeth. Listen to only the second human being ever to live capable of turning the other cheek and forgiving anything... But I know you better than that, Simeon. That’s why I can’t stand hearing you defend that demon. It’s like you’re taking a rusted piece of steel and driving it through my spine when you talk like that. Nothing you say can change my mind...  And don’t be preaching at me about any God that allows men to make a world like this one—and places like Leavenworth—as if the hell waiting for us isn’t enough.

An exasperated rush of air gushed out of Simeon’s mouth. "Don’t get it twisted, amigo. Men and their black souls make this world what it is. Free will means we don’t get to pin that on anyone but ourselves. And you know I wasn’t preaching so don’t be twisting my words trying to make them fit whatever it is you want to say. What you believe in is on you, just like every other person in this world. The one thing you know about me is that I’ve always been me.  I never hid who I was in this place despite doing what I had to, to survive. My parents are the reason for that and more than I can remember...  It’s why I have to honor them by doing this." Simeon stopped to clear his throat. His voice broke repeatedly as long suppressed memories came to the surface.

"Let me clarify something...My father and mother taught me everything I knew before coming here. But I didn’t have a clue about the deeper meaning to their words until after the real world I encountered here. You’re seeing the only hope I have to hold onto. Let me ask you something. How many convicts have you heard say they’ll take their chances in hell for what they’ve done?"

Why you asking me that? It doesn’t matter how many there was—every one of those men was full of shit.

I’m asking because I never heard you sounding like them until now... I guarantee you not even the most ruthless man that ever spent time in a cell wants to know what hell really is, Skully. Think about it, you never heard a single one of them extend their lie and say they’d go there willingly. Simeon stopped to be sure he had his opposite’s complete attention. "We both listened to all of them running their mouths about only wanting the freedom to live as they choose.  But the sad truth is that all of us watched nearly every one of those same ignorant bastards dragged back here after being released and within a few months, or weeks, finding themselves drowning in the same toilet that brought them here to begin with. Inevitably, all of them cursed God and every living thing in the earth when the choices they made as free men went bad. Who’s responsible for what a man says and does if not himself, Skully? Simeon calmed his voice when a rustling noise at the end of the corridor intruded.  We can’t have it both ways. We don’t get to blame heaven for the bad then take credit for the good. I’m rambling because I refuse to be one of those men. The next time you see me will be when I come to pick you up outside. Not marching back into this pit with a number for a name stamped across my chest. My one option is to take my chances with Nadine... I’ve lived with the worst of mankind more than half my life. There’s got to be something worth holding onto out there. Simeon clenched his eyes shut. I already said it... I’m about out of hope there’s anything worth living for. That’s another reason I have to do this... I need to find the will to live, and if that means being close to the woman that sent me here so be it."

Skully studied the man in front of him until he was able to summon an answer. You’re right; you were rambling—trying to empty everything out of your mind, just like I was... I get what you mean about choices. I’ve made enough bad ones to understand I’m on my own. I sow and reap accordingly as you good Christians say—it’s what I expect—what I deserve. Loathe to feeling any form of regret no matter how infuriatingly intangible, Skully turned to stare outside the space. Eventually his voice emerged with a completely different timber. "I’ve never been a good man, Simeon. My way of thinking—my life—has been corrupt as long as I can remember... Even during the times when I tried to stay on what the world calls the ‘straight and narrow,’ it didn’t work for long. Prison...or worse is what I always had coming.  The Italian’s throat caught as he struggled to subdue awkwardness he refused to acknowledge. There’s nothing about you remotely like me though... How do you possibly walk out of this desolate hole after so many years and willingly put yourself within a continent of someone that stole the last years of your mother and father’s lives from you? Skully stopped the viler tirade mounting inside him when he glimpsed Simeon’s wide eyes. With a visibly pained effort he changed the direction of his speech. You were one of the golden boys....  Again he paused, his jaw clamped, his blemished face ashen and his voice edgier. Doesn’t some part of you want revenge? I’m one of two men who know how much you hated that woman when you came here. We both smelled it flowing out of your pores. What you should do is take some of that ass she claimed you already had all those years ago. And because I may never have another chance to say these words to your face, you get to hear them now. If I ever stand in front of that devious woman, I promise you I’ll strangle her myself."

Simeon shuddered as raspy words slid between rigid lips with arctic calm. I would die a thousand miserable deaths piled in the filthiest corner of this prison before I would ever hurt any woman the way you’re talking about, Skully. You and Tanaka are the only men inside Leavenworth who know about the rape and murder of my cousin. She never had the chance to live past being a girl thanks to a degenerate who’s still free and breathing somewhere—you and me are closer than brothers...but never talk to me again about raping anyone. And Skully, if you were to stand in front of Nadine and act on your promise to kill her; you better understand something. You will have murdered two people. I lost me while incarcerated. I’m praying that being close to the mentally disturbed woman that did this to me forces me to come back to myself...at least as much as possible. It took me incessantly meditating on murdering her to realize what my parents knew instinctively. Whatever tortured reflection comes from my connection with my accuser is exactly what I need to force a confrontation with the rage seething inside me.  I know it doesn’t make sense, but if you or anyone else takes her from me you’ll be destroying my best chance of becoming whole again. You were right when you said I was once obsessed with revenge... That’s changed. When I think of leaving here with her I do ask myself if I’m the crazy one. But the possibility that she may not show up when I walk outside scares me even more. As warped as you think it is, I’m tied to her, Skully. I can’t say it any plainer.

The untamed look stretched across his friend’s face was one the peering Italian saw only when Simeon had to defend himself or die at the hands of brutish felons who would have murdered him without remorse. The inmate who genuinely feared no man swallowed the thick liquid pooling at the back of his throat the same instant a tremble rocked his solid frame. "Alright...I was out of line bringing up rape... I knew that before I said it... But knowing what I do about your cousin is why her coming here makes my blood boil. Despite that...I ain’t above apologizing to a man I consider my brother... You do what you have to but I had to let you know what was clawing at me... Skully rubbed a rugged hand over his lips before saying more. ...I didn’t know anything about the rest of what you said until now. There’s something else I have to say though. Your girlfriend chose the one crime you could never commit and spun it into the lie that took your life away. I can’t wrap my mind around that irony. Skully observed the emotionless response to his words before grinding the heels of both hands against his temples. She’s got your head twisted too tight—you ain’t hearing me...."

Despite what the soul in front of him believed, Simeon absorbed the bitter sting of every syllable hurled at him. On his feet and facing the wall, he remained still.

It sounds crazy to hear myself say this but I can feel her, Skully continued. She’s not even coming for me but I swear it’s like that woman’s crawling over the top of me digging her sharp fingernails into my eyes. I can’t imagine what thinking about walking out of here into the arms of that devil does to you.

His eyelids narrowed to slits while contemplating a faded poster hung from a scarred wall with thread plucked from an unraveling blanket, Simeon appeared like granite.

You straight? Skully asked.

No answer. 

Simeon...

I’m good... He flexed strong shoulders so strenuously the sinuous striations within each deltoid rippled beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. I don’t know whether it’s her or what might come out of me that scares me most.

I guessed that much. Look...like I said; I had to be straight with you before I lost my chance. Skully reflexively crossed his own muscularly-lean arms in another subconscious attempt at avoiding the appearance of unease.  I know I’m not going to change your mind... Do what you told your people you would—truthfully, I didn’t expect anything different from you. That’s the way this thing has to play out because ultimately, this is between you and your little nut-bird. He forced a dry laugh, hoping the odd phrase might ease the mood. The response he got was unexpected.

I’m leaving FloJo with you, Simeon said.

Skully felt his jaw slacken. You following in your loony girlfriend’s footsteps? The only time I ever saw you flip out was when someone managed to ‘borrow’ that poster. Good thing it turned up a couple days later when the genius who stole it realized he could never hang it on his wall without being found out and slipped it back into your cell.

Trying to make sense of the maze of feelings lost inside its image, Simeon absently fingered the print. "You didn’t hear me say the word forever: bring her to me when you get out. Until then, she’s yours to help you keep your head right."

So, it was your psyche you were concerned with when you meditated on that beautiful woman late at night?

Simeon’s eyes flashed dull. That’s twice you’ve taken our conversation to the penitentiary standard, Skully. That’s as many as in all the years I’ve known you. Yes, she was beautiful, I can’t deny that. But you more than anyone know what she meant to me. Especially after watching me run around the yard every day. The Olympics was my dream. With the exception of your help and my parent’s prayers, it was only that fantasy that let me survive this. He paused to look again at the image of Florence Griffith Joyner striding powerfully over a vivid red track, her lithe frame the epitome of controlled power and grace. Might have gotten there too...

A different voice interrupted. Its pitch, altered by the acoustics of the metal and cement architecture, made it sound oddly tinny and hollow.  Time, Carver.

Simeon’s response was direct. I need two minutes, Hague.

The guard outside would never voice it but over the years he’d come to respect this particular convict’s consistent demeanor like no other’s. He turned without drama. Two minutes.

Simeon wasted no time once the sentinel was gone. Skully, something else is eating at me.

Happens to most inmates... Facing the outside world again ain’t easy...

Just keep that forever-moving Sicilian mouth of yours closed and listen for once.

Tossing back shoulder-length, gray-black hair twisted into a pony tail with an agitated flick of his head, Skully smoothed bent lips and bit his tongue.

I was trying to say I’m nervous but I’m going to fight to get my life back. When you leave Leavenworth—and you will—I’ll have a place for you set up where I’m at. Don’t go back to Detroit, Skully. You do that and you’ll end up back here...or dead.

A stoic convict responded flatly. Can I talk now, boss man?

It’s true...there is a first time for everything. You’ve never asked permission for anything in all the years I’ve known you. Simeon suppressed a smirk despite the mood.

Skully closed the distance between the two men with one exaggerated stride. I don’t know what’s waiting for you out there but I’m going to say it again. That woman coming here doesn’t feel right. I don’t have the inside track like you do... He gestured heavenward. ...so I can’t tell you why she makes my skin crawl, but everything in me tells me she’s pure poison.

Skully...

You shut up this time—I ain’t finished. I need to say this... Don’t hesitate to part ways with that female if that’s what needs doing. She’s burned up enough of your days. Take that from a man who’s been that worst side of life people fear. Human beings are capable of every form of evil. Keep that inside you in case you need a reason to let go of the wild idea you have about forgiving someone that stripped so much of your existence away.

Simeon nodded his understanding just as the guard reappeared. Thanks for saving my life, Skully. You and Tanaka are the reasons I’m still above ground. I meant what I said. When you get out, I’ll have a place for both of you.

You’re the only innocent convict I know, Simeon. Go and don’t think about me or this place. I don’t want you ever coming back here to see me and neither does Tanaka. We’ll meet again on the outside once I’ve paid my debt. You already know it but unlike you, I ain’t innocent.

Simeon squeezed Skully’s extended hand one last time, hugged him with sincerity uncommon amongst perpetually-posturing convicts, and then turned to gather his belongings. His accumulated effects—the equivalent of fourteen years of existence—fit beneath one arm. He passed through the exit and without looking back, managed three final words.  On the outside...  

2

Intent on purging his senses of the cloying stink and unrelenting memories of Leavenworth, Simeon consciously refused to look back at the looming structure. Instead he focused on allowing the warmth of the Kansas sun to renew his body and thoughts. It was miserably humid but the weather was exiled to the edges of his subconscious. Flickering through his soul were sentiments he couldn’t hope to understand, so he stood contemplating the numbing realization that moments before he’d bid goodbye to a penal system that represented his only home in the world. No known destination awaited him but the dream of all convicts was reality: he was outside—free.

I hope I’m not trading one prison for another... The abstract thought struck him with the subtlety of a sucker punch. Struggling to function like a man who wasn’t terrified, a pensive soul expectantly surveyed the road. Anticipating the reunion to come was something he could manage only in snatches of time. Periodically, he distracted his brooding by absently checking the dead watch encircling his wrist until he impulsively snatched it off and thrust it inside a pocket.

Thirty yards away, a reporter made small talk with his videographer as they too awaited the coming meeting. More than fourteen years before, when the visibly nervous black man they studied from a distance had gone to trial, accused of brutally raping the white daughter of a congressman. Then there had not been enough room for all the media to gather as he hobbled past the silent, gawking throng toward the courtroom, his hands and feet shackled so he could maneuver forward only by shuffling awkwardly, like a tethered penguin.

There was no way for the watching journalists to know their subject’s focus lapsed back to the same surreal moment. Mercifully, before he could descend into reliving that terrible period, the atmosphere shuddered when a bottomless, liquid-smooth rumble intruded. When Simeon glimpsed the near-translucent, smoke-gray tint, his throat closed. Approaching in what felt like slow motion was a subtly-lowered 1965, Pontiac Catalina. Meticulously restored and mildly but sensuously customized, its dark-tinted windows hid the driver entirely.

Chatter between the reporter and his associate stopped when the pair saw the machine gradually turn in and stop. The camera was recording when the door swung open and out stepped a being who instantly demanded the attention of everyone present on that small patch of earth. Even the guards hidden from view, intently peering through binoculars from a distance forgot to breathe. Caucasian, tall and willowy, the woman slowly unfolded her taut frame. She allowed a vague glance toward the two journalists before transferring her entire attention to the muscularly-lean black man staring in her direction. Mirroring his intensity, she absorbed every intricate detail of his attire: Khaki pants, a loose-fitting, burgundy-colored, button-up shirt, and a pair of white, retro, Adidas Pro-Model basketball shoes with maroon stripes completed his ensemble. Beside him, a faded green laundry bag, frayed at the seams, perched on the ground. When her attention came back to the even brownness of his face, before continuing toward orbs seemingly burning through her, she saw only time—time she had cruelly and treacherously stolen from him.

Simeon traded silent regrets with the woman past a shimmering atmosphere made warmer by the numbing emotions both felt. His mouth stuck, despite having practiced this moment in the hopes of guarding against this kind of paralysis. Thick with saliva, his tongue remained glued to the roof of his mouth.   After several eternal seconds, he managed a parched swallow. He watched the woman’s throat bulge in the same instant and realized something. Her struggle matched his. Moving deliberately, he took his first steps toward the being whose calculating deceit stripped him of everything he’d known.

3

Gliding on the balls of his feet—predator-like— the man stalked forward while an anxious female tracked his approach. Paralyzed by fear, she subconsciously fell into counting the rhythm of her escalating heartbeat.

Close enough... Simeon stopped. He stared into the same green eyes he’d pictured for so many years without speaking until fully comprehending the visible dread behind them.  Nadine...you made it okay...that’s good. The words were stilted but intelligible.

Nothing could have stopped me from getting here, she replied with a minimal stammer. Her next sentence, because she’d practiced it for the past hour while driving east on Interstate 70, came out smoother. I hope you like my surprise. It took me two years to find it, she said, sweeping unsteady fingers toward the Pontiac.

Simeon hesitated as his synapses made innumerable, lightning-swift connections. This can’t be the same ragged car I drove in college..? As he stared, he subconsciously computed the time. Two years to find it and he guessed at least that long to restore and modify it.  A question for later was instantly stored away.

It’s her, Simeon.  I found the shell in Nevada wasting away behind a man’s house and had it brought to Phoenix for restoration. I hope the customizing is okay—there was so much rust... It’s yours.

Mine? Simeon was still stuck on the fact she’d planned this out for so long. He was meditating on the thought when her voice brought him back to the moment.

It’s the first of so much I hope to return to you.

He was trying to order what he wanted to say but faltered when he watched Nadine’s lips buckle and water pool at the corners of her bloodshot eyes. The amount of redness made it obvious she must have been crying as she drove. Before he could respond, a voice interrupted.

Mrs. Porter...Mr. Carver, may I have a word?

Nadine spun toward the idiot who dared to interrupt while angrily swiping at the salty liquid freely streaming down both cheeks with the insides of her wrists.

Unused to seeing women cry—or do anything at all—Simeon was unsure as he watched this one unexpectedly retreat into the car’s front seat. Peering past tinted glass, he saw that she’d retrieved several tissues from somewhere and was dabbing aggressively at her face. He turned toward the source of the interruption. Can I help you, sir? He managed with a hint of irritation.

Mr. Carver...Jake Spearman, CNN, I would love to get a statement if possible? The man extended his free hand with enough caution that it was noticeable.

Out of a habit drilled into him by his deceased father long before he came to Leavenworth, Simeon accepted it automatically while trying to plan words he hadn’t expected to use. Mr. Spearman...judging by the turnout; it doesn’t look like many people are interested in me leaving prison. I don’t know if anything I have to say will be worth your trip?

Jake had experience and know-how that should have seen him somewhere more important news was taking place. And he would have been if not for his struggles with alcohol. That critical flaw was the reason he was working his way back up the ladder—again—after having missed another assignment due to being too drunk to get out of bed. He wanted to tell the man in front of him he was right; only a few bleeding hearts wanted to hear about a wronged convict leaving prison. The marketable part of the story—told weeks before to a reporter with a firmer control of his vices—had been Nadine coming forward and admitting she lied all those years ago. The daughter of a once congressman and current Secretary of State, her words were the ones that would sell newspapers and magazines in a world fixated on celebrity. Jake didn’t say that, however.

Mr. Carver, your release is of interest to more people than you realize. I would like to help you share your story with them.

Fourteen years spent amongst men who were peerless innovators in the art of lying and manipulation exposed Simeon to cons this reporter could never fathom. He recognized the glint of untruth in the man’s words with his first syllable. Mr. Spearman, you have my admiration for being the only reporter to figure out the release date leaked to the world was a false one... But the truth is that being an obscure footnote at the back of some nameless newspaper is what I want right now. I have zero interest in becoming the world’s latest freak show, so there’s no need to pretend me being released from Leavenworth is a momentous occasion for anyone other than me. Simeon watched to see what effect his blunt words had. When the reporter fought back a grimace, he knew he’d judged correctly. I’m guessing you had the misfortune of drawing the short straw?

Jake hated being read so accurately. It especially bothered him that a man so long away from society could