A Seal Upon Your Heart (15 page)

There were so many such moments kept alive only by his memories…and of course the items themselves. How could anyone else appreciate that?

He looked at Martier. “But I now know that people appreciate what they need. Someone can make better use of her things than I ever can by keeping them closed up here.” He looked around at everything. “You would honor her by using what you need,” he whispered. “Pardon me.” He left her in the room and she saw him go to an adjoining bathroom that she hadn’t noticed.

She sighed sadly. Though he might not really show it, she knew that this was a hard step for him. She fingered some of the fine, rich material. She would take what she needed and help Tim donate the rest. Bartholoma didn’t have a need for suits and fancy evening gowns but they did get money from consignment. This would bring them well needed money. She didn’t know why she still considered her school at all after what had transpired, but she did. It was more for the young girls that lived there than anyone else.

Tim returned a few moments later and he had pulled himself together. This was hard but knowing that Martier would take them made him feel better. He waited while she selected several items to try on later back at the cottage, and he pointed out certain other items that he thought would fit her nicely. Unfortunately the shoes would not work, they were much too small for her larger feet. She would have to switch to her everyday shoes until she could do better. They were just loafers but she really didn’t have a choice.

It was getting late and both were tired. He got her the spare keys and instructed her to be ready to leave promptly at 7:30 am. They made Saturday plans to collect the clothes she couldn’t use and take them to St. Bartholoma’s who would sale them for consignment.

She thanked him again at the backdoor and wouldn’t allow him to walk her back to the cottage so he stood at the window and watched until she was inside. He was tired but hit the treadmill. If he began making excuses he would always make them. He ran for half an hour than showered. In bed that night he had a hard time sleeping. He remembered something Martier had said.
‘…the name of a murderer.’
Besigye…She had also mentioned that she didn’t remember; that they didn’t want her to remember. If she had come to the convent at the age of six, as she said, than why didn’t she remember?

He rolled over and tried to sleep.

~***~

Thank God it was Friday! Tim would be on a conference call for most of the morning and had given Martier money to buy them lunch from a nearby deli. He wrote down exactly what he wanted and she told him that she knew how to get to the little deli because it was on route with her bus stop.

The day was great and the sun was shining and it had warmed up nicely. Martier drew on her new jacket that matched the skirt, which covered her new grey silk blouse. She was just getting ready to get on the elevator when Claudette waved at her from across the room. She waved back with a happy smile and the older woman gestured for her to wait. Claudette did a few things on her computer and grabbed her purse and hurried to the elevator.

“Look at you!” She leaned forward and whispered. “You look great.”

Martier grinned. “Thank you.” While Corinne hadn’t been nearly as tall as she was, the clothes were so classic that they looked good on her as well…just shorter. There were many sleeveless items that were meant to be covered by jackets but which looked just as good without them. She knew that she could make some alterations and had decided that she could make use of many of Corrine’s clothes.

“Where are you off to?” Claudette asked.

“Tim’s going to be on a conference call for several hours and he’s sending me to pick up lunch.”

“May I join you?”

“That would be nice,” she said happily and they left the building together.

Claudette cleared her throat. “Martier…um…”

“What?” Martier stopped walking and looked at her new friend nervously. “Is something wrong?”

“Only those shoes. Sugar you cannot wear a five thousand dollar Chanel suit with penny loafers.”

Jane gasped and blinked her eyes. “Oh my goodness…” Did she say five THOUSAND?!

“Yes.” Claudette said. “Corrine didn’t buy off the rack, honey. I’m assuming that’s one of hers?”

Martier nodded, still too stunned to speak. Distraught she decided to confide in her friend. “Claudette, I don’t have the money to buy shoes. These are the only ones I have.” She would never be able to afford these clothes. It was insane that she would be wearing five thousand dollars worth of clothes!

Claudette smiled. “Come on dear. We’re going shopping.”

“But I don’t-”

“-have money. I know. Consider this a loan. You’ll pay me back one hundred dollars each pay period until it’s paid off.”

Martier almost choked. “How many hundreds will that be Claudette?”

Claudette just chuckled and took charge, dragging Martier to Macy’s department store. “Can you walk in heels?”

“I’ve never tried.”

If that surprised Claudette she didn’t show it. “I saw some fabulous Marc Jacobs flats. But they were six hundred and forty dollars.” Martier gasped.

“Can we get something cheaper?”

“Shhh.” She said suddenly. “Don’t use the C word in this store!” Then she gave her a smile, letting her know that she was only kidding. “Don’t worry, hon. I’m going to show you how to find a deal on shoes!”

Claudette was like a whirlwind.  They went to the shoe department and straight to a sign that said Nine West. When the sales lady came to help them she had her measure Martier’s feet even though she could have told her what size she wore.

“Size 11.”

“Wow.” Claudette said. “Are you six feet tall?”

Martier nodded shyly.

“Hmmm.” Claudette squinted one eye. Then she selected a very nice pointy toe shoe with a short heel. She had Martier walk in them and she nodded her approval. Then without asking whether or not she even liked them Claudette charged three pairs; one in taupe, one in black and one in navy. As they headed out of the shoe department Claudette exclaimed that they were on sale for seventy-nine dollars each and Martier did the calculation quickly including tax.

However Claudette wasn’t finished. “What type of nylons?”

“Um…”

“Thigh highs or pantyhose?”

“Pantyhose I guess.” Three pairs of pantyhose came to fifty-five dollars.

When they left Macy’s, Martier had a full shopping bag and she wasn’t quite sure how it all had transpired, only that she was happy that one of them knew what they were doing.

Before they headed for the deli, Claudette made her take off the loafers and put on a pair of her new shoes. She did and as they walked down the street Martier truly felt like a new woman. She smiled proudly.

When she got back to the office she placed her bags in her cubby and quickly carried Tim’s lunch into his office. He had his jacket thrown over the back of his chair and was contemplating the ceiling as he leaned back in his chair listening intently to someone speaking over the speaker phone.

“…I really think we should rethink taking on several of the cases that were turned down by you and the other partners. I even understand your reasoning. But they were high profile cases and I know we would have been successful at them.”

“Ken,” Tim said. “You’re a good attorney but you’re just starting out in your career. I know you’re hungry. I was too at your age. I’ll re-think the Tobiason case and bring it…”

Tim’s words faltered as Martier quickly placed his lunch on his desk. He’d seen her wearing the suit when she had brought him coffee. But he’d also seen her sad looking shoes and had been distracted from how good the suit fit her. But now she was wearing new shoes and somehow he could take in everything in a way that he hadn’t before.

“Tim?”

“Oh! Yes, Ken…the Tobiason case. I’ll bring it up to the partner’s and you can decide if it’s really what you want.” He glanced at her as she left his office then quickly consulted his notes. “Okay, Lloyd, I’m assigning you the Hendrix case…”

Martier went down to the canteen for iced tea. She’d seen Tim purchase the bottled beverage the night before and decided to bring him back one as well.

“Excuse me.”

She turned and a man wearing a very nice suit and tie was staring at her. He seemed confused or alarmed. “Yes? Can I help you?” She gave him a helpful look.

“Wow…I’m so sorry for staring. I—my name is Karl.”  He held out his hand. “Karl French.” Martier took the offered hand, shaking it firmly.

“Martier Besigye.”

“Your accent…African?”

She smiled. Was he…flirting with her? He wasn’t very tall, maybe even an inch or so shorter than she was. But he was very handsome. He was African American with a light brown skin tone and hair that was very short and tapered down to nothing in the back and sides. He had a slight goatee and big arms as if he worked out.

“Yes, African.”

He stared at her and then seemed to shake himself out of a trance. “I’m sorry. I’m an attorney here…I don’t recall ever seeing you before...”

“I’m new actually. I’m assistant to Tim Singleton.”

His brow went up. “Oh? A partner? Quite a coup.” She didn’t know what he meant by that but she smiled anyway. “Martier…is it okay if I call you that?” She nodded. “I was wondering if I could take you out to lunch?”

“Well, I-” she stuttered in alarm at the invitation, “I already have my lunch-”

“Not today!” He said quickly. “Maybe next Friday?”

“Well,” she chewed her lip. “My lunch is based on Tim’s schedule-”

“Then dinner?”

“I…don’t know.” She smiled shyly. “I’ll think about it.” She turned to leave. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too Martier. Please think about it, okay? You can find me in the directory; Karl French.”

She smiled all the way back to her workstation. She knocked once on Tim’s door, he was still on his conference call, and she placed his iced tea on his desk. He had just taken a bite of his corned beef sandwich and a spot of mustard appeared on the side of his mouth.

He gave her a quick smile of thanks for the iced tea, and she smiled back wondering how long before he realized that he had mustard smeared on his face. He was so cute. She closed the door and went back to work.

CHAPTER 14

The conference call had taken an ungodly amount of time. After he used the restroom he sent emails highlighting the key points to each of the partners. Afterwards he decided to do some of the research that had been on his mind since finding out that Martier had been a survivor of events that happened in Rwanda.

He pulled up information on the computer about the Rwanda genocide. In just over a three month period more than 800,000 Rwandans were killed. It began
in April of 1994 when President Juvenal Habyarimana’s plane was shot down. Tutsi extremists were blamed but know one knew for sure. Factor into that a long standing feud between the two groups which resulted in the violent uprising and the mass murder of the Tutsi people.

Tim rubbed his face, he remembered when this was going on, the almost disbelief that it was happening in this day and age…and the pictures. That’s when Corrine began helping the survivors there. She found St Bartholoma because they were bringing orphaned children back to the states and trying to get them placed in homes.