“Uh huh,” she said, nodding her head vigorously. Her hair had been straightened and put up in a ponytail that bounced as she nodded. “Who drew it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But Mr. Stone can tell you. Do you draw?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’d like to see one of your drawings.” I said.

“You would?”

“Uh huh,” I said enthusiastically.

Her face brightened into a large smile, her dark eyes sparkling as she said, “I’ll color one just for you. Do you want one of Jesus?”

“I’d love one of Jesus,” I said.

“Chaplain Jordan, I know we’ll be running on a very tight schedule this afternoon,” Stone said impatiently, “but if we happen to get back early, I want you to sit down with Bobby Earl and discuss some ideas he’s got for your chapel program.”

I stood up and looked at them, stunned, bristling at even the suggestion.

“I want to help in any way I can,” Bobby Earl said, then winked at me as they all walked out.

Blood of the Lamb Chapter 2

After unlocking the chapel and letting Officer Whitfield into the library to listen to some preaching tapes, I met briefly with my inmate orderly, Mr. Smith. Once in my office, I popped in a cassette of Gregorian chants and spent some time in thought and prayer.

I felt frustrated and angry at my reaction to Bobby Earl and what I suspected his brand of religion would do to the inmate population. Many of the men who attended chapel teetered on the precipice between genuine faith and love, and irresponsibility and over-simplicity. I was afraid the apocalyptic excitement of Bobby Earl’s hellfire and brimstone preaching would cause them to plunge to their spiritual deaths.

What was a man like Bobby Earl even doing here? There was nothing the inmates could do to expand his television empire.

I picked up my phone and punched in Anna Rodden’s extension in Classification. It rang several times, but there was no answer. I hung up, and like the unexpected answer to a prayer, Anna walked into my office.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, closing the door behind her.

As I came around my desk, she dropped the envelopes and inmate requests she was carrying into a chair, and we embraced. She was tall and athletic, and our bodies fit together like they were made to. The hug was quick, but the connection immediate and intense, and I had to release her and step back while I still could.

“I’ve missed you,” she said. “Doin’ time’s not nearly as much fun when you’re not around.”

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s good to be back.”

“How was training?”

“I can think of more fun ways to waste time,” I said.

And then, for a long moment, we stood there, neither of us seeming able to move.