To Love and Honor. Irene Brand

me to register the gun when I came into this office building.”

      Violet also had to leave her purse behind, and both of them were frisked thoroughly. After they cleared the security check and waited on the elevator, Violet leaned against the wall for support. She wanted to break and run. Perhaps sensing Violet’s despair, Roger pulled her into a firm embrace, and his hands gently massaged her neck and shoulders. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to—knowing he was there gave her the courage she needed to eventually walk down the corridor toward her mother’s cell.

      The guard opened the door, motioned for them to enter, and locked the door behind them. Violet was horrified by the stark surroundings. For the first time, she felt a glimmer of compassion for her mother, who had spent twenty-three years in such an atmosphere.

      Violet felt shocked as she realized the woman on the cot looked more dead than alive. She was dressed in a faded yellow garment and covered to her waist with a blanket. Her high cheekbones and wide brow which may have been delicately lovely at one time now gave her face a gaunt, hollow look. The sparse brownish gray hair was straight and stringy. The woman’s eyes were closed, apparently in sleep, and Violet wanted to run away before her mother roused.

      Perhaps he sensed Violet’s discomfort, for Roger said softly, “Shall we awaken her?”