“My mother, Kathleen Holdaway circa 1946. Β She would have been about the age of Jenny in this story.
Look here, Jenny.” Β Lucille settled in a kitchen chair and pulled a letter out of her apron pocket. Β “You know I never go nowhere without my Mama’s Bible. Β I forgot I had the first letter I wrote your daddy at Huntsville. Β He wrote me back on the back side. Do you want to hear it?”
“Oh yes, Mama, if It’s not too personal.” Β Jenny examined the worn envelope. “It’s good you wrote small so he could scratch your name out and use the same envelope to write back. You wrote this in pencil. Β I’d have thought you’d have written in pen. Β This writing is so faded.”
“Honey, I didn’t have no pen. Β We was poor. Β I was at Aunt Lu’s and she gave me a dozen eggs. Β I took ’em to the store and traded for two sheets of paper, an envelope, and two stamps. Β She knew your daddy wouldn’t have no way to git stamps. Β The store owner had the post office, too. Β He told me how to address the envelope so your daddy could reuse it. I had to borry his pencil. Β Anyway, let me read it to you. Β It’s faded and you might not make it out.”
My Dearest Russ, We have fell on some hard times. Β I got word from Uncle Melvin about you and Luther gitting in trouble. Β I wish you had stayed clear of trouble, but I know you was trying to take care of me and the children. Β I will be waiting for you when you get out, for I love you.
That brings me to sad news. Β Our boy Jimmy died three days after we got here. Β We buried him down by the creek. Β My heart is broke to have to tell you when you already got trouble. Β I will stay here with Aunt Lucy. Β Jenny is well, but misses you and Jimmy.
Please write to me on the back of this letter. Β A stamp is folded inside. Β I love you always and will pray for you. Β I will write you again when I can get a stamp. Till we are together again. Β Your loving wife Lucille
“Now look here on the back where he wrote back.” Lucille said.
Dear Wife, When I put you on the bus, I feared it was the last time I’d see Jimmy. Β I wished I’d figured a way to git y’all away soon enough to save him. Β I hope Jenny is well. They say I will be here five years. You are a young, pretty woman. Β If you meet someone else and have a chance at a better life, I will set you free. Β I broke the law and must serve my time, but you don’t need to suffer along with me. Β I will always love and pray for you.
You must not worry about me. Β I will not do anything to get in trouble. Β I miss your cooking. Β We mostly get beans. Β The man in my cell don’t talk, but he don’t give me no trouble. Β Nobody here talks about what they done. Β I would be glad for a letter if you can get a stamp, but don’t do without to get one. Β Take care of yourself and Jenny. Β I hope God lets us be together again.
All my love, Russ
Lucille took her glasses off, took a hankie out of her pocket, wiped her eyes, and cleaned her glasses. Β She refolded the letter and returned it its envelope. Β “Don’t Β let me forget to put this back in my Bible.” Β She looked up to see Jenny with tears running down her cheeks.
“That’s so sad, Mama. Β Your heart must have been breaking when you had to write Daddy that Jimmy was dead.”
“That was one of the saddest things I ever done. Β I was still numb from losing Jimmy. Β That was the worst. Β Next to that was walkin’ off and leavin’ you a’cryin’ at the Hope Home. Β You were’t even three and ain’t never been away from me even one night. Β You done lost Jimmy, your daddy, and now I was a’walkin’ off. Β I never felt so low.”
It was three months before I got to write to your daddy again. Β I found a dime in the dust of the road when I was a’walkin’ to the store to get some lye for Aunt Lucy. Β That was the first money I’d had since before Jimmy died. I bought you a lollipop, two three-cent stamps, two sheets of paper. Β The store-owner gave me an envelope with a coffee stain and loaned me his pencil. Β I wrote your daddy I’d be a’waitin’ when he got out.