Hidden Memories (43 page)

“Hmm. Where is she living now?” Sage asked.

“She’s staying with her mother.”

“Where is she working? I can’t imagine that a law firm would hire her. Not unless she’s using an alias,” Ramion said.

“She’s a hairdresser, and she’s working at her mother’s salon in Decatur.”

Sage shrugged her shoulders. “So what’s so interesting?”

“She’s been really broke, bouncing checks and not paying bills. Two weeks before she filed charges against you, a large deposit was made into her account!”

“That should be easy to trace,” Ramion said.

“It actually was transferred to her account,” Drew said.

“Don’t tell me it was transferred from Edwinna’s account,” Sage said suspiciously.

“I don’t think she’d be that stupid,” Ramion said. “Where’d the money come from?”

“Her mother’s business account. I’m tracing the source of the deposit.”

“It does sound fishy,” Ramion said.

“Oh, I would love to expose her,” Sage said strongly.

“I know it’s probably too late to help, with the election three days from now, but you never know,” Drew said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Let me know what you find out,” Ramion said.

* * * * *

The cork flew out of the dark-green bottle, and champagne bubbled over the top of the bottle. “Give me your glass, give me your glass,” Ramion urgently said, not wanting the entire contents of the bottle to spill onto the floor.

Sage tilted her glass as Ramion poured Dom Pérignon into the gold-rimmed champagne glass. Laughter pealed from her mouth as the bubbles tickled her nose when she drank the champagne. “Ummh, delicious,” she said.

She signaled with her glass for a refill.

“Already?” Ramion teased before filling up her glass.

“Congratulations, honey,” Sage said, and spontaneously hugged her husband. “I’m so happy for you! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks to you, baby, I won,” Ramion said.

“To Senator Sandidge,” Sage said, clinking her glass against his.

They stood on the balcony, overlooking the hotel ballroom where family, voters and supporters were celebrating Ramion’s victory.

“It wasn’t as close as I’d expected it to be. All that worrying for nothing,” Sage said, her voice lilting with joy.

“It was the debate you talked me into. Good move.” Ramion kissed her on the top of her head. “Now I know why you have that Maya Angelou poem on your office wall. You’re a phenomenal woman, baby.”

“That’s my inspiration. But then again, you are too.” She kissed him softly on the lips. “Do you think they’d miss us down there?”

“Hmmh,” Ramion said, with a seductive smile. “What did you have in mind?”

“I happen to know that the penthouse suite is available. It has a heart-shaped bed, a Jacuzzi tub…”

“Say no more,” Ramion said. “Let’s go.”

“On second thought, I don’t have a change of clothes or…”

“No second thoughts allowed. All you need is what’s under those clothes. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ramion sat in the chair across from his mentor’s desk. Looking around the office, he didn’t notice anything different since the last time he’d been in the office a year ago. He glanced over at Sage, who was looking out the window, lost in thought. It was midafternoon, and the sky threatened rain.

They heard Edwin Williamson’s distinctive voice as he approached the office. “Good to see you, Ramion,” Edwin said when he came inside.

Ramion stood up and extended his hand to Edwin.

“Hello, Sage,” Edwin said, nodding in her direction. “How are you?”

“Hello, Mr. Williamson,” Sage said with a slight smile. “I’m doing fine.”

“Call me Ed.” He settled in his chair, and then said, “I was surprised by your call.”

“I was surprised by what I found out about…”

“Winna. I know things have been awkward, but I do understand that you wanted to win on your own.” Edwin leaned back comfortably in his massive desk chair. “And you did. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Ramion said. He cleared his throat before adding, “I’m here today on a very difficult matter.”

“You know I’m a straight shooter. Let’s be direct.”

“I have a copy of a cashier’s check drafted from Edwinna’s account. It was deposited into Selena Tucker’s mother’s account. The money was then transferred to Selena’s account.”

Edwin studied Ramion for a minute. “That’s a very serious accusation,” he said somberly.

Ramion leaned across the desk and handed him the check. “I know, Ed. That’s why I’m here.”

Edwin stared at the check, his expression unreadable. “Can anyone else confirm this information?”

“Actually, it was Drew Evans. He’s a reporter for the
Atlanta Times
. He uncovered this information and brought it to us.” Sage paused, and then added, “I went to college with him.”

Edwin laid the copy of the check facedown on his desk. “Why didn’t you use this during the campaign?”

“We didn’t find out about this until two days ago,” Ramion explained.

“I see. What do you plan to do about it?”

“That’s why we’re here, Ed. You’ve opened many doors for me and helped me in countless other ways. I’m letting you decide how to handle it. My wife did not agree.”

“Your daughter has done everything she could to destroy our relationship. She’s lied, and she’s falsified tapes,” Sage said. “Believe me, I would love to expose her in the newspaper. But Ramion felt that you would want to handle it.”

“And I will. I’m most grateful that you chose not to embarrass me. Not only could she be disbarred, but she’d surely face criminal charges.”

“I’ll be honest, Ed. I feel the same way as Sage. But out of respect for you, I didn’t go public with it.”

Edwin looked at them and humbly said, “Thank you both.”

* * * * *

When Edwinna returned from court, she was surprised to find her father sitting behind her desk. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him in her office.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said with a bright smile, then kissed him on the top of his bald head.

Edwin stared at his only child for a long time. He didn’t speak.

“What is it, Daddy?” Edwinna asked.

Edwin continued to quietly stare at her.

“Daddy, what’s the matter?”

He pointed to the copy of the cashier’s check on her desk. “Explain this,” he said.

Edwinna’s stomach took a nosedive when she saw the signature on the check. She slumped into a chair, too embarrassed to return her father’s piercing gaze. She wondered how he found out, but it didn’t matter. He would always look at her without respect. His respect was the only thing that really mattered to her.

Edwin moved over to the conference table and sat beside her. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I was just so angry that he left me.”

“So you risked your career, your reputation, your freedom…”

“I wanted to win the election, Daddy! I wanted to prove to him that I was better than him, better than Sage,” she said vehemently.

“Ramion brought me this check. He didn’t have to. He could have destroyed you and really embarrassed me.” Edwin spoke the words slowly, deliberately, as if he were giving a final summation to a jury, “But he chose not to.”

Edwinna looked at her father for the first time, her expression puzzled. “Why didn’t he? I certainly would have.”

“It’s obvious, my child, you wouldn’t understand.”

Edwinna sank back in the chair. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“If it doesn’t get in the media’s hands, hopefully nothing.” Edwin stood. “But, I think you should leave Atlanta for a while. Perhaps you should consider working for one of our affiliate offices.”

Edwinna raised her head and stared into her father’s eyes. She saw reflections of disappointment and suppressed anger. She swallowed, and asked, “For how long?”

“I don’t know, Winna.” Her father moved toward the door, and then turned around. “Surely you understand that you will never be elected managing partner.”

* * * * *

Sage knocked on the door when no one responded to the ringing doorbell. Her knocking pushed the door open. “Hello,” she called out at the front of the door. When no one responded, Sage stepped inside the studio. She walked down a narrow hall and around a corner into a large open area that reminded her of a big warehouse.

“Hello,” she repeated.

Bright sunlight beamed through the skylights into the studio. It was the only source of light for the high-ceiling loft with walls of brick. The building had been a manufacturing facility, but now served as a consortium for creativity, housing artists of all types.

She heard the unmistakable voice of Billie Holiday singing “God Bless the Child”. Sage remembered stacking the Billie Holiday albums on the record player, waiting for an album to fall down and the needle to drop on the edge of the album. She’d hear the popping, scratching noises of an album played too many times, then the infectious whine and seductive purr of Billie Holiday’s voice.

This time Billie Holiday’s sultry voice was loud and clear, with no crackling sounds or sudden skipping to the next verse in the middle of a lyric.

Sage felt the bottom of her feet tingling, shooting straight up to her shoulders, as if she had stepped into a puddle of cold water.
Can it be Daddy?
Sage wondered.
Billie Holiday is playing, it has to be him.

If it is Daddy,
she thought,
what do I do? Maybe he doesn’t want to know me. Maybe he doesn’t care after all these years. Maybe he never did.

With her thoughts swirling around in her head, she felt dizzy with fear and trepidation.
I wish Ramion was here,
she thought.
Maybe I should leave and come back with Ramion.

She turned toward the front door. Suddenly the music stopped, Billie Holiday’s plaintive voice lost in the air. She heard something hit the floor. She took a deep breath and called out again, “Hello, I’m looking for Shakura.”

“Over here.”

Sage walked in the direction of the voice, a voice that was familiar, a voice that traveled inside her ears to tap her subconscious and retrieve one special memory from her past.
It’s him,
she thought.
Oh my God, it’s Daddy.

She heard water running and moved toward the sound. A large canvas was propped on an easel, and she could see feet underneath. She stopped in front of the easel and peered at a mural of people running around in circles, in bold, vibrant colors. She stared at the painting, lost in the symposium of her memories. She heard her heart beat, louder and louder.

Sage sighed deeply and peeped around the mural painting. “Shakura,” she whispered. She saw a man leaning over a sink, cleaning his brushes. He had a wild grey beard that seemed to cover his face. She tiptoed closer. Her heartbeat and the running water were the only sounds she could hear.

“Shakura,” she said in a quiet whisper.

“That’s me.” He tilted his head in her direction, but the glaring light from the skylight distorted his vision. He put his hand over his eyes to block out the sun.

He stared at Sage.

“Oh no,” he cried, grabbing at his chest and falling back against the sink, knocking his paintbrushes to the ground.

Suddenly frightened, Sage stumbled over to help Shakura to the table.

“Are you all right?” she asked, looking into eyes that were the same olive green as hers.
It’s Daddy,
she thought.
It’s
him!

He shook his head and moved over to the small sofa and two chairs positioned in the corner. Crackers, cheese and a decanter of red wine rested on the table. Shakura took a sip from the glass of wine.

With his eyes closed, he took long, deep breaths.

“Should I call a doctor?” Sage asked.
How do I explain who I am?
she wondered.
And what do I do if he denies me?
She desperately wanted to touch him, to gently stroke the full grey beard framing his caramel-brown face. She peered closer and saw brown freckles splattered across his cheeks. Tears puddled in her eyes. She had forgotten about his freckles.

He shook his head.

Sage didn’t know what to say and resisted the urge to bolt out the door, to leave their lives intact. Because, the moment he recognized her, their lives would be forever changed. And what if the past unraveled the present and destroyed the future? She stood up and said, “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

Sage took a few steps and stopped when she heard a voice from the past.

“I should know you—” Shakura said. Memories from his past life zoomed through his mind like a reel of film on fast forward. He closed his eyes to freeze a frame and catch a memory of the little girl from his dreams. But the memories, as always, were as elusive as a ray of sun.