The Path To Love. Jane Myers Perrine

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СКАЧАТЬ since they were kids. Even the young woman who’d been so helpful had probably spent more years reading the Bible than Francie had wasted being a troublemaker in school.

      And Mr. Fairchild must have read lots and lots of it. He knew about the fruit of the spirit.

      How could she even attempt this? But, if she wanted to change, Francie knew she had to tackle all these pages. Francie Calhoun was not a quitter.

      Where should she begin? Obviously at the beginning. It would take her an eternity to finish all of it but she had to, really had to.

      Besides, the Reverend Mr. Jonah Miles and that nice lady at the church had probably read the entire book. They’d started her on this road. She couldn’t let them down. She was behind, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t try.

      She said to herself, “‘…love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control….’ That is a good place to start.”

      Chapter Two

      Too impatient to wait for the elevator, Francie reminded herself that she had to work on this problem of constantly running behind as she dashed up three flights of stairs in the Austin, Texas, courthouse annex. She glanced at the clock on the landing—ten minutes after ten. She was only a few minutes late, but she was also panting and her hair was a springy mess. On top of that, her cheeks must be bright red from the exertion of running from the bus stop.

      Terrific, she mumbled. Here she’d wanted to impress Mr. Fairchild with what a fine citizen she was, and she couldn’t even arrive on time for her second appointment. She stopped just inside the door of the parole office and attempted to slow her breathing.

      From the cubicles, separated from each other with six-foot-high gray metal walls, she could hear the low buzz of voices. Telephones rang from the offices that surrounded the cubicles. Parolees waited on hard wooden benches, reading or sleeping, while others wandered through the open space drinking coffee and talking.

      In spite of the chaos in the small area, she was aware of Mr. Fairchild who sat quietly and alone in his cubicle scanning a page of a file folder.

      Oh, my, he was absolutely gorgeous. When she saw him, she wished she was at least three or four inches taller and a few pounds heavier. And wouldn’t she love to have something to wear besides jeans and ratty tennis shoes? And, while she was wishing, wouldn’t it be nice to be absolutely gorgeous, too?

      With a pat to the top of her head, she attempted to tame her wild curls as she walked across the scuffed gray vinyl floor toward his desk. “Mr. Fairchild?”

      He glanced up, saw her, stood and reached his hand out toward her. She took it and smiled. He had such a nice, strong grip.

      “Miss Calhoun.” He nodded. “I was looking over your file and realize Gentry didn’t keep up with you very well.”

      “No, he didn’t. I was assigned to Mr. Gentry when I got out of prison six months ago. I think he was winding down for retirement.”

      “That may be true. Nevertheless, I still need some very basic information about you. There’s almost nothing written here other than the dates of your appointments and your address.”

      As he read further, he tapped his pen, silver with what looked like his initials engraved on the side. “I find no mention of what you discussed during your appointments. He didn’t keep up with your employment or much of anything else, no information from your trial or prison records.” He looked up at Francie. “That’s not at all professional.”

      Professional must be very important to him, Francie thought as she put her book on the floor and leaned forward. “I think he was really burned out.”

      “It’s kind of you to say that, but I can’t be as forgiving.”

      Wow! He thought she was both kind and forgiving. That was at least one fruit of the spirit. “Thank you.”

      “Miss Calhoun, you shouldn’t be forgiving, either, not in this case. A parole officer is supposed to assist you to return to the community as an honest, upright citizen. Gentry let you down.”

      She nodded. He was right.

      “Let me check on the information I have.” He read a few lines. “Your father, aunt and uncle are all—”

      “Incarcerated.”

      “Your mother?”

      “I don’t know where she is. She walked out on us when my father was arrested. I was six.”

      “Who brought you up?”

      “Oh, different people, off and on. Usually, when they weren’t incarcerated, my uncle Lou and aunt Tessie, my father’s brother and sister. Larceny runs in my family, I fear.”

      “You believe it is a genetic characteristic?”

      “Yes,” she said with a sigh. “I’m afraid so, but I’m working hard and hoping to overcome that unfortunate trait.”

      “Commendable, Miss Calhoun.”

      He glanced at his watch, a lovely thin silver-colored one. Expensive, she thought. Of course she knew nothing about watches. Maybe it wasn’t as costly as it looked.

      “Oh, it’s probably getting close to time for your next appointment. I’m sorry I was late.” She put a hand against her cheek. It felt warm. “I had a test that lasted much longer than I thought it would. The bus was late so I had to run all the way from the bus stop. I thought I’d be here sooner but I kept dropping stuff and the lights held me up.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I do hate to keep people waiting.”

      “A test?” he asked. “Are you not feeling well? I don’t believe I’ve read anything here about health problems.” He leafed through the pages to check.

      “No, not a medical test. English lit. Jane Austen. You know, she writes wonderful characters and she’s really funny, not what I’d expected from the classics.” She scooted forward on the chair and whispered, “Have you ever read Pride and Prejudice?”

      “Yes I have…but why did you take a test on Pride and Prejudice? Why are you even reading it? I remember being forced to read parts of it in high school. I also remember it was slow and not very interesting.”

      “Oh, no, it’s wonderful.” She sat back and pondered for a moment. “Even though they lived in a totally different time, those people are incredibly interesting. They’re not all that much different from us.”

      “You’re reading Jane Austen for pleasure?”

      “No, no, for English lit, but if I’d known it was so much fun, I’d have read it years ago.”

      “Miss Calhoun,” he shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Would you please explain why you are reading Pride and Prejudice.”

      “Isn’t it in my file?” She moved forward and tried to read the record upside down. “Didn’t Mr. Gentry mention that I’m working on an associate’s degree, picking up the required courses?”

      He frowned СКАЧАТЬ