Now and Always Yours Read online

  Cover design copyright © 2016 by Covenant Communications, Inc.

  Published by Covenant Communications, Inc.

  American Fork, Utah

  Copyright © 2016 by Anita Stansfield

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format or in any medium without the written permission of the publisher, Covenant Communications, Inc., P.O. Box 416, American Fork, UT 84003.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real, or are used fictitiously.

  978-1-68047-992-8

  Dedication

  To Dennis, my big brother

  Chapter One

  The State of New York

  Gregory Turney rolled over in his narrow bunk and gazed through the nighttime shadows toward the prison bars of his tiny cell. He’d become accustomed to sporadic sleep during his years within the walls of this modern-day fortress, just as he’d become accustomed to not being in charge of his own life in any and every way. He was told when to eat and what to eat. He went to bed when the lights went out, and he got up at the same designated time as every other man who shared his predicament. He’d learned whom to avoid, whom to stand up to, and whom to defend. He’d learned how to show perfect respect to the guards no matter how unsavory their behavior; some of them were decent men, and others thrived on the power associated with their occupation.

  The situation among the prisoners wasn’t much different; the same culture existed on both sides of the lines drawn in this place. Gregory had found friends among his prison mates, those who were humble and regretful about the crimes they’d committed and their reasons for being here, men who only wanted to avoid trouble and serve their time. And he’d also learned there were many who only wanted to serve their time so they could get back on the streets and continue their criminal activity, men with no remorse and only a delusional perspective of their standing in the world. These were men who believed the injustices they’d suffered somehow gave them the right to mete out injustice to others in a variety of horrible ways. And they were just biding their time. Greg avoided these men, and he’d managed to be tough enough to avoid being hurt by them—for the most part anyway.

  For Gregory, prison had changed his life. It had changed him. He’d committed no violent offense, and he’d never taken anything that didn’t belong to him. But he’d been closely associated with some very bad people, mostly because that’s where he could get the drugs he’d become addicted to in order to escape the painful realities of all the inequity he’d endured from the time he’d come into this world. He’d been completely stoned when he was arrested, so he didn’t recall details of all that went down. But he hadn’t been able to deny that he’d been in possession of an inordinate amount of illegal substances. He’d quickly figured out that his supposed friends had sold him out and had let him take the rap for many of their crimes, and Gregory had ended up being sentenced to many more years than he deserved—at least that’s what his attorney had told him. But there was nothing to be done about it since Gregory couldn’t even remember enough to help piece together a case in his own defense. So he’d entered these prison walls and had turned his life over to the undeviating structure and tedium of doing his time.

  Not many weeks into his sentence, Gregory had awakened to the realization that the only thing he had control over was how he conducted himself and whether or not to take advantage of what little good this place had to offer. He started reading more than he ever had, loving the way books could lure him out of the horrors of his surroundings. And then he found out there was a Bible study class held twice a week, and he couldn’t help feeling drawn to it. The more he attended, the more drawn to it he felt. He’d also begun attending the church meeting held every Sunday in the prison, and with time, the Bible study and church services started to change him from the inside out. He’d shared these changes in lengthy letters he wrote every week to his sister, Shannon, and he’d shared just a little with his two children in the same way. Now, his only friends on the inside were those who were also genuinely drawn to these spiritual things, and his only friends on the outside were his kids and his sister.

  While he’d been serving his time, his sister had obtained legal custody of the children when their wretched mother had proven herself unfit one too many times. Gregory had felt overwhelming relief once he’d known his kids were in Shannon’s care. His sister was an amazing woman who had made all the right choices in spite of growing up with the same horrors he’d experienced. She was now married to a wonderful man and had a new family that Gregory only knew from photos and letters. He was happy for her and grateful for all she’d done for him, but he wondered every day if it would ever be possible for him to be a part of her life again. Or that of his children.

  A typical day began, drawing Greg away from his sleepless musings. He was glad to be distracted from his thoughts and worries—even if it meant immersing himself in the same old tedious routine. But he did have Bible study to look forward to in the afternoon. During the hours leading up to one of his favorite aspects of life, he mentally counted his blessings, which was something he’d learned to do a long time ago after he’d heard about it in church. He’d found gratitude to be a great remedy for all the things in his life he had no control over and all the things he hated. He was grateful for such a remarkable sister, grateful his children were in her care, grateful she’d found a good life for herself. He was grateful he didn’t have to share his tiny cell with anybody; at least while he was there he had privacy and didn’t have to put up with the foul language and negative attitude that would have come with the majority of any possible assigned cell mates. He was grateful to have found God in this most unlikely place and for the healing and mighty change that had taken place within him during these years of incarceration. He was grateful for the good people who gave of themselves to come to this place to teach Bible classes and conduct church services every week. He recounted the list over and over while he did his assigned work, went through his daily exercise routine, and endured the barely tolerable meals.

  Greg felt a little downhearted after Bible class. He’d enjoyed it thoroughly but hated that it was over, knowing that the time until they would gather again felt so far away. He was on his way out of the class when he received the news that he would be going before the parole board the following week.

  “But it’s too soon, isn’t it?” Greg protested. He was well aware of the length of his sentence, and he hadn’t expected this to happen yet.

  “Good behavior, apparently,” he was told.

  That night Greg tried in vain to sleep while the possibility of parole both thrilled and terrified him. As much as he longed to get out of this place and make a fresh start, he knew that beginning life as an ex-convict was no easy road. At least here inside he knew exactly what was expected of him, and he was considered one of the “good guys” among his peers. Given the overall population, he didn’t necessarily see that as a positive thing, but perhaps he needed to keep perspective. He was one of the good guys here; but he wouldn’t be on the outside—at least not among the kind of people he would choose to emulate in a new life. He wanted only to be part of a community, to get a decent job, to become capable of caring for his kids. But his criminal record would follow him wherever he went, and his relationship with his kids was little more than several years’ worth of letters and phone calls. They knew he loved them, but they didn’t really know him. They’d been so young when he’d separated from their mother, and not much older when he’d gone to prison.

  Two days later, Greg had the weekly phone call with his sister and his kids. They had an establishe
d day and time; therefore, it was rare that the three of them weren’t all available to talk to him for a few minutes. Unfortunately, minutes were all he’d ever been allowed. His son, Neal, was now fifteen; his voice was getting deeper, and Greg knew from photographs that he was growing tall and starting to look more like a man than a boy. Jeanie was thirteen and just beginning to blossom out of childhood. They were both happy and well-adjusted—thanks to his sister. Her husband, Phillip, and his mother, Marj, had also made tremendous contributions to the care of his children, and had made them a part of their family in every way. Greg was grateful beyond words for these people, for their love and generosity, for their genuine Christian attitudes toward him and his kids. He couldn’t even imagine where he and his kids would all be without such love and acceptance. Greg was grateful for the letters, the photos, and the phone calls that allowed him to remain as close to them as possible, even though they lived too far away to visit. And he’d insisted from the start that he didn’t want his kids coming to this place to visit him, even if it were possible. He preferred the distance. But now there was a possibility that the distance might no longer exist. As much as he ached to see his kids and hug them and be a part of their lives, he was terrified over what the reality of that might entail.

  After Greg had talked to both Neal and Jeanie for a few minutes, Shannon came on the phone, and he hurried to say, “I’m going before the parole board next week.”

  “Seriously?” she said and laughed, as if it was the most wonderful news she’d ever heard. When he didn’t comment, she quickly asked, “What’s wrong?”

  He admitted with only a little hesitance, “I don’t know if I’m more afraid of having to stay or of getting out.”

  Shannon had never been one to dismiss his feelings, and he wasn’t disappointed when she said, “I can understand why the prospect of such a big change would be unsettling, but . . . you know we’re all here for you, right?”

  Greg pondered exactly how to say what he needed to say. “I’m grateful for that, sis; more than I can say. But . . . I wouldn’t blame you if you would prefer that I—”

  “That you what? Stay in prison? Go somewhere else when you get out? Greg! We’ve talked about this. How many times have we talked about this? Go back and read the letters we’ve all sent you.”

  Greg recalled the many letters from Shannon assuring him that he was welcome to stay in their large home so that he could be with his kids while he became acclimated to society. Legally it would take some time for him to prove that he was capable of having full custody of them, but Shannon was supportive in helping him with that, and since she’d been caring for the children for years, it was understandable that she’d want them to remain close even when he regained custody. Shannon’s husband and mother-in-law had also sent him very convincing letters, assuring him that he was completely welcome in their home and in their lives. They were good Christian people, and he had no reason to believe they hadn’t been sincere. Still, he had his doubts that everything could work out as well as they all seemed to believe.

  “You’ve all been very kind,” he said. “But . . . the reality . . . is . . .”

  “Greg, listen to me. If you need me to remind you of all this, I will. You know that none of us will tolerate any bad behavior or anything that would bring difficulty to our family or the community. That’s the way it needs to be, whether you were an ex-con or not. You know all of that. But I know you’re not that kind of person; we all know it. And we all know that you have a much better chance at succeeding in this transition if you come to a place where you have support and a stable environment. You need your kids, and they need you.”

  “Do they?” he asked, trying not to sound as cynical as he felt.

  “Yes!” she insisted. “You know they do!” He heard her sigh, and her voice became softer. “We love you, Greg. If this works out . . . and you get to come home . . . we will all be thrilled.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” he asked, again wondering which prospect frightened him the most.

  “Then we will deal with it the best we can and pray that next time goes better.”

  “Okay,” Greg said and took a deep breath. “I’ve got to go. Obviously I will let you know, one way or the other.”

  “There’s a room waiting for you if it works out—when it works out.”

  “Thank you,” Greg said, trying to be gracious, and trying even harder not to be terrified.

  “I’ll be there to pick you up . . . whether you get out next week or next year or . . . whenever. You let me know, and I will be there.”

  “But you’re so far away.”

  “I’m on the other end of the state; I’m not in Siberia. Picking you up when you get out is a moment I’ve been imagining for years,” Shannon said. “I won’t let you deprive me of it.”

  “Okay,” he said and blinked back the sting of tears. “I love you, sis. I thank God every day for you.”

  “And I thank God every day for you,” she said. “These kids love you, Greg. They talk about you all the time. Whatever happens, just keep being their dad; they need to know they have a dad who loves them, even if he’s not physically here. We never had that, you know. And you’ve given them that. The letters and calls mean more than you could ever know.”

  With an audible crack in his voice, Greg said, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

  “Okay,” she said, sounding emotional herself. “Good luck. Let me know. If you need me to do anything, let me know that as well.”

  “I think everything is already in order, but I’ll let you know.”

  They said their “I love yous” and “good-byes,” and Greg reluctantly hung up the phone. Walking back to where he was expected to be, he considered the letters that he knew had already been written on his behalf in anticipation of this day. His sister and some decent people he associated with from the church services and Bible study classes had all written to the parole board on his behalf, and they were kept updated. His brother-in-law—a man he’d never met but had shared many letters with—had also written a letter on his behalf. And so had his children. He prayed that the hearing would go well and that it might actually be possible to start his life over. Now that he’d heard Shannon’s encouraging words, he missed her and his kids so much it hurt, and he wanted this to be over. He knew in his heart he was a different man, that the changes inside of him were real, that he would never again return to his old habits or lifestyle. He only hoped the parole board could believe that it was true.

  * * * *

  In the days leading up to the parole hearing, Greg prayed more frequently and with more intensity than he had since he’d feared that his children were in danger while he’d been stuck within these prison walls, unable to do anything about it. Shannon had been the instrument in God’s hands to answer his prayers. She’d left behind a successful law career and a nice apartment in New York City in order to take on the care of his children and give them a fresh start. Years after that, his fervent prayers had once again been answered when his ex-wife had sued for custody of the children and it had seemed there was a good chance she might win. Greg knew from phone calls and letters how terrified Shannon had been of losing the children to their biological mother. The children had surely been at least as terrified, and Greg knew that Shannon’s husband, Phillip, and his mother had felt much the same. He marveled that these people he’d never met had become so involved in the care of his children. He’d had a few moments of being tempted to feel some jealousy toward Phillip over the way he had become a father figure to Neal and Jeanie, filling a role that Greg hadn’t been able to fill. But he had always been able to pray away such petty feelings, replacing them quickly with an overwhelming gratitude that a man would be so thoroughly charitable as to take on the care of two troubled children and treat them like his own. Phillip and his mother were certainly evidence of how many times God had answered Greg’s prayers, and all these events combined had strengthened his belief in the power of prayer and
the existence of God. And now he was trying desperately to hold on to those beliefs with the hope that God would give him yet another miracle.

  The very idea of freedom felt nothing less than miraculous. Greg had become so accustomed to living within prison walls that he could hardly comprehend life outside of them. In fact, during the days since he’d been told that the possibility of parole was before him, he’d come to realize that he’d long ago forced himself to stop thinking about what it might be like to live outside of prison, simply because it had been too painful. It had been easier to just accept his circumstances and get used to them. The theory had been useful to him then because it had helped him cope, but now he realized it had perhaps been detrimental. He’d stopped trying to imagine life on the other side, and now the possibility felt as out of reach as it felt terrifying. However, there was one idea that overrode his fears and that was the desire to be reunited with his family. The prospect of being with Shannon and the kids again felt so thrilling that he couldn’t think about it without feeling his heart rate increase, and he often had to fight back the urge to cry. He missed them so much! And he could see now that he’d missed them far more than he’d allowed himself to feel, simply because it would have been too difficult. He hadn’t seen any point in torturing himself over what he couldn’t have. But now the possibility of getting it back was before him, and his fears had quickly become outweighed by hope.

  When the time finally came to be interviewed by the parole board, Greg felt more nervous than when he’d gone before a judge to receive his prison sentence. Back then he’d likely been in shock, or perhaps the drugs he’d been using prior to his arrest had still been affecting his brain. Now he was fully aware of his past crimes, his time served, and the deep changes within himself. He could only pray that the words that came out of his mouth would sound as sincere as they felt and that he wouldn’t sound like just another criminal trying to say whatever he believed the parole board wanted to hear. Greg felt sure these people had heard it all, and he prayed over and over that the men and women who held his fate in their hands would be able to feel the truth and sincerity of the man he’d become and give him a chance for a fresh start.