Chapter Text
In the garden among the roses, a modern Socrates and Plato – a resurrected Dante and Virgil – begin the lesson plan. Prison was Governor Ferguson’s palace to rule. Overseeing the work of the women, Governor and Deputy stroll at an even pace. Vera doesn’t struggle to catch up with Miss Ferguson. She’s learning. While Joan is on the topic of correction, Vera listens in her currently enamored state. The breathy way in which she speaks lures her in like bait on a hook. It’s a piercing sensation. She’s cultured and knowledgeable, capable of quoting the classics and spill the truths of a long game. She is everything Vera wants to be.
Admiration and reverence tangled together like the lethal snare of vines. Without the gloves, Joan pinches a silken, red petal. She looks over the garden with the satisfaction of a creator. The petal shrivels from her touch and falls to the ground. Her Deputy swears that Joan grimaces – at least, a twitch of her lips could be perceived as such. Joan lets go, only to snap her fingers at Vera. The roses in the garden are corrupt, tainted like the inmates.
‘ Vera, are you listening? ‘
Blinking, she jolts back to attention. A deep flush of embarrassment tints the tips of her ears and her cheeks. Vera feels hope. For herself, for the women. She mistakes it for love. Seduced by reason and order, a crush manifests.
‘ Yes, Guv’na. ‘
With a nod, Joan walks and Vera follows.
She thinks it’s love.