Hidden Memories (7 page)

“Well, red is my favorite color.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “Thank you, honey. I might have to hire you as my fashion consultant; you did such a good job picking everything.”

“You know, come to think of it, red reminds me of candy apples.” Ramion paused and moved closer, eyeing her like a piece of fruit. “I want to take a bite.”

* * * * *

“I told you to kill him!” the old man screamed, his bony finger pointed at his son.

“Father, suspicion would have been directed at us in a heartbeat if I had him killed in the middle of the campaign.”

“Like hell. Those people get killed every day. You could have paid some crack addict to shoot him, and he would have done it for chump change.”

“Yeah, well, we just have to reexamine the situation,” the son said.

“There’d be nothing to reexamine if you had listened to me. I should have never put you in charge. Resurfacing those FBI files certainly didn’t work.”

“Frankly, Father, I didn’t believe Hudson could win the election. I didn’t think he had a prayer of capturing the white vote.”

“Traitors, that’s what they are.”

“I realize now, Father, that different measures are called for.”

“Such as?”

“Just because Hudson is governor doesn’t mean he has to stay governor.”

“Okay, son, now you’re starting to think right. But we missed our window of opportunity Getting rid of him now won’t put Baker in the governor’s office,” the old man said. “It’ll just mean the lieutenant governor will take over. Ah well, he’s not my choice, but at least he’s white.”

“So we’re agreed, first we watch his family…”

“Uh-huh, keep talking.”

“And keep a close eye on people close to him.” The younger man grinned and licked his lips. “I would love to get more than my eyes on his campaign manager, though.”

“Don’t get sidetracked, boy!”

“I wouldn’t call focusing on her getting sidetracked. If it weren’t for her, Senator Baker would be taking his rightful place.”

“That’s right, boy. And he would make a fine governor. I knew his grandfather when he was governor. He was one of the good old boys.”

“Well, those days are long gone, Father. We have to concentrate on the present, which means figuring out the right time to take action. I’ve called a meeting for next Friday.”

“All right! Now you’re showing some spunk,” the old man said.

Chapter Four

Sage Kennedy walked into the Fulton County North Annex government building, carrying her purse, briefcase and laptop computer. She struggled with her unwieldy baggage as she pressed the elevator button and then stepped back to wait for the elevator to arrive.

“Congratulations, Sage, on a job well done,” said Roy, a friendly, older black man who supervised the building’s cleaning crew. “You’re one tough cookie,” he added with a gold-toothed grin. “I was real sorry to hear about you getting hurt in that explosion. Me and my wife prayed for you.”

“Thank you, Roy. I appreciate your concern. It means a lot.”

“But, we got the last laugh, didn’t we? We got us a black governor after all.”

“You’re right,” she said, with a light chuckle. “But the battle has just begun.”

“Yeah, but Mr. Hudson got a master plan,” Roy said. “I know that’s right.”

The elevator doors opened and the old man stepped back. “Have a good one,” he said.

Sage stepped off the elevator at the fifth floor and walked around the corner to the relocated campaign headquarters. The door was open, and she moved into the reception area. “Hudson for Governor” posters still hung on the walls, and campaign brochures remained scattered on the coffee table, sofa and receptionist’s desk.

“Good morning, Sage,” Marika said. A large contemporary painting in muted shades of mauve, blue and green hung on the wall behind Marika, complementing the mauve walls and carpet through the office suite. Holding up two fingers in V formation, she added, “Victory!”

“I’m just glad it’s all over.”

“Me too,” Marika agreed. “I thought it would be quiet today, but the phones haven’t stopped ringing. Reporters are calling for interviews, and…”

“I’m not surprised. When is Cam coming in?” Sage asked.

“At eleven.”

Sage looked at her gold watch. “Good, that gives me some time to get some work done.”

Sage placed the laptop and briefcase on her desk and tucked her purse away in a drawer. Next, she looked through her mailbox, separating the mail into three piles—read, file, Cameron. She went through her briefcase and pulled out several file folders.

For the next two hours, Sage worked at her computer, printing reports and documents for Cameron’s review. When he arrived, she heard him talking to Marika before heading down the hall to his office, whistling a happy tune.

A half hour later, she went around the corner to his office. He was on the phone when she entered, sipping coffee from his “Mayor of Atlanta” mug while listening to the other party. She placed several files in front of him and was turning around to leave when Cameron hung up the phone.

“That was some celebration,” Cameron said. “No one wanted to leave.”

“Folks were just so happy that you were elected.”

“I’ll tell you, Sage, I was sweating bullets all afternoon. It didn’t look like we were going to win.”

“So was I. All I have to say is thank goodness for the late voters.”

“And the first-time voters.”

“I was happy that the bombing didn’t scare people away from the polls.”

Cameron nodded. “That worried Sarah too.”

With a soft chuckle, Sage said, “Who knows, maybe it scared away the people who were going to vote for Baker.”

“You just might be right about that.”

“But now we get the pleasure of hiring your staff,” she said, handing him a list of names for positions in his new administration.

“Some interesting names you have here,” Cameron said, perusing the report through the reading glasses perched on his nose.

“I know you don’t care much for Harry,” Sage said, “but he’s perfect for the job.”

“True, he’s just mean as hell.”

“Well, it’s not like we’ll be dealing with him on a daily basis.”

Cameron scribbled some notes on the report, crossing off names and adding others to consider for his staff. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt with his initials—CJH—embroidered on the cuff. The red-and-blue diamond-patterned tie matched the suspenders and pocket scarf in the custom-made suit jacket that hung on the back of the door.

“I’m also compiling a list of legislators who we may be able to influence on the vote for a new flag,” Sage said.

The noisy chair squeaked as Cameron leaned his football-player frame back in the chair and focused on Sage. “That’s why I hired you. You stay on top of things,” he said, giving her an affectionate smile.

“If you want to change the flag in the next legislative session, we have to move quickly.”

“Sister, I like your style.”

“Thanks,” she said with a light chuckle. “Well, tell me, has Sarah started packing?”

“She started talking about it last night.”

“Are you going to sell the house?”

“I don’t think so. Sarah wants to, but four years will fly by. Who knows if I’ll be reelected. For now, I think we’ll just rent it out.”

“Excuse me,” Marika said. “These flowers arrived for you,” she said, handing Sage a vase filled with a dozen white roses.

“Thanks,” Sage said, admiring the beauty of the delicate flowers.

“Your mother is on the phone,” Marika said in a curious tone. She had worked for Sage for three years and couldn’t remember her mother ever calling. She noticed the warm smile on Sage’s face transform into a frown.

“I’ll take it in my office,” Sage said as she walked out of Cameron’s office.

Sage placed the vase on her desk. She opened the card and read the message:

Congratulations on winning! I’m so very proud of you.

Love,

Mama

She walked around her desk and sat down. She glanced at the blinking button on the telephone and for a moment considered ignoring the call, surmising that her mother would eventually hang up. But the line continued to blink.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Sage depressed the flashing button and picked up the receiver. “Hello,” she said dryly.

“Oh, Sage,” Audra said, relieved that Sage finally answered the phone. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you and how much…”

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“I’m sorry about Aaron showing up like that. I told him not to come but he wouldn’t listen. I wasn’t trying to trick you. I just wanted you and…”

“Mama, I’m really busy right now.”

“Did you hear me, Sage? I wasn’t trying to trick you.”

“It really doesn’t matter. I have to go. Thanks for the flowers,” Sage said and hung up the phone.

* * * * *

Ramion turned into his parents’ subdivision, where all the streets were named after women—Mary Ellen Terrace, Susan Drive, Elizabeth Street, Anna Maria Way. It was an older development, built in the late 1960s, when carports and porches were the architectural rage. Most of the homes were ranches or split-levels, featuring long driveways, wide picturesque windows and lots of trees and shrubbery.

It was a picture-perfect Thanksgiving Day—the leaves were orange and yellow, and the sun was bright and glowing.

“I can’t believe I’m finally meeting your family,” Sage said.

“You should have met them sooner, but…”

“I know,” Sage said. “My schedule can be erratic. I was just thinking if I hadn’t run into you at the mall, we might not be doing this.”

“We were always running into each other,” Ramion said, remembering the weekend that changed his life.

* * * * *

It happened like a summer shower, unexpectedly and unplanned. They ran into each other at Lenox Mall on a Saturday afternoon. Sage was riding the escalator up to the main level of the mall, and Ramion was riding down to the food court. Passing each other, they spoke, and Ramion impulsively asked her to wait for him at the top of the escalator.

While riding back up, Ramion knew his life was about to change. He felt a magnetic pull every time he saw her and imagined touching her skin, tasting her lips. He wanted her and knew, from some voice within, that he needed her.

“You’re not going to call me, are you?” Ramion asked when he met her at the top of the escalator.

“I was waiting for you to call me,” Sage said with a teasing smile.

Over
café au lait
and beignets, talking and laughing, their long-simmering attraction began to bud. Saturday turned into Sunday and, before the weekend was over, their relationship was in full bloom.

* * * * *

Ramion pulled his black 750 BMW into his parents’ driveway. “Eventually we were going to stop running from each other,” he said.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” Sage said, indicating the rows of flowers decorating the yard.

“Mama probably spends three to four hours a day in the yard.”

“It shows,” Sage said. She paused before continuing, “I’m a little nervous.”

“My parents are going to love you. I promise you.” Hearing the familiar squeak of the screen door opening, Ramion looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway, waving at them. “There’s Mama,” Ramion said. “See? They can’t wait to meet you.”

Ramion stepped out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to open the door for Sage. After climbing out, she reached back inside to retrieve the rum cake she had baked for dessert.

They walked up the steps of the tidy red-brick ranch house with black shutters around the windows. “Hello, hello!” Linnell called, clapping her hands together in excited welcome.

“Hey, Mama!” Ramion said, as he hugged and kissed his mother on the cheek. Short and a bit stout, Linnell had to reach up to put her arms around her son’s waist. Her nose was flat and broad, her black eyes deep-set, and her lips full and wide. Her hair was completely grey and softly fluffed around her chestnut-brown face. She never missed her weekly appointment with her beautician, who roller-set her hair. Linnell had been wearing the same hairstyle for more than twenty years.

Ramion introduced the two women.

“So good to meet you, Sage,” Linnell said. She took one of Sage’s hands, and then changed her mind and impulsively hugged her.

“I’m happy to meet you too,” Sage said. “Ramion talks a lot about his family.” Handing Linnell the Tupperware container, Sage said, “Here’s a cake I made for dessert.”

“Honey, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Sage said. “It’s rum cake. I hope everyone will like it.”

“Umm, smells delicious,” Linnell said. “Come on in. Olivia and the kids are downstairs.”

Ramion and Sage smelled collard greens and sweet potato pie as they entered the house. They followed Linnell down the narrow hall, passing the living room and dining room along the way. The large kitchen was bright and cheery, decorated in yellow-and-green wallpaper scripted with the names of herbs and spices. The yellow- and white-tiled floor complemented the yellow valances draping the windows.