A Seal Upon Your Heart (51 page)

“Martier. I apologize for calling you. I got your number from Sister Madden.”

Martier rubbed her eyes and frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Actually I’m calling because I understand that you’re in Rwanda not only on a fact finding tour but to accomplish some missionary work.”

“Yes.”

“Well we at The Centre would like to offer you a job.”

“A job?”

“Yes. You would be under the employment of the documentation department and we would like to ask you to join us in our door-to-door interviews with survivors. We would pay you but it would still be missionary work.”

Martier’s heartbeat raced. “I…I don’t know how well I would do talking to strangers and-”

“We won’t send you out alone and you’ll see how we approach this delicate subject.”

Martier drew her bottom lip into her mouth and twisted the phone cord without knowing that she was doing so. She suddenly realized that she couldn’t think of anything that she wanted to do more.

“Yes. Yes, I think that I would like to do that Geoff. But I will only be staying in Rwanda indefinitely. I have a home…back in the states.” Yes, that was true, her home was with her family and friends. She smiled. The pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place and the smile that she had lost so many months before finally returned.

She dug through her suitcase and pulled out a small notebook quickly writing down the words that filled her soul.

the warmth of the sun

radiates

from my being

awakening me from within

up my spine

i feel the force

of it

creating the thing

that has eluded me

my smile

Chapter 43

Tim rounded the corner, heading back to his office after his Monday partner’s meeting. He stopped when he the heard a masculine voice at the reception desk. He took a few moments to pretend to check his messages on his blackberry as he listened to the man trying to sweet talk Linda.

“Look we can just go for a cup of coffee downstairs at the coffee shop. I’ll even treat you to a pumpkin muffin.”

Linda giggled shyly.

“Look at those gorgeous dimples. Have you ever thought about modeling; you’re exquisite.” Tim cringed.
Ugh, don’t fall for that sorry line, girl.
He rounded the corner.

“Good morning Lindewe.” He ignored the bumbling idiot.

“Good morning Mr. Singleton. I left your messages on your desk.”

“Thank you.” He opened his office door and then turned and looked at the young man standing by his receptionist’s desk.

“Hello Mr. Singleton.” He said quickly.

Tim gave him a piercing look. “Did you need something?”

“No no, I was just…” Blushing the young attorney smiled at Lindewe and then gave her a quick goodbye before beating a hasty retreat.

“Lindewe, will you bring me a cup of coffee please.”

“Yes, Mr. Singleton.”

Tim loosened his tie and then hung up his jacket. He sat down and turned on the radio and then glanced at a picture of he and Martier taken at a local fair. It had been her first and she had wanted to try everything; the rides the food, even the ring toss where Tim had failed to win her a stuffed animal. Eventually he just paid a shitload of money to the vendor for a cheap, two dollar teddy bear. Tim leaned back in his chair thinking of nothing until there was a soft tap at the door and Lindewe entered carrying his coffee.

“Here you go, Mr. Singleton.” She placed the mug on his desk. Well at least she wasn’t afraid of him anymore even though he maintained a polite distance. He didn’t even ask her to call him Tim. She appeared a lot more confident and looked much better, although she still wore a weave but at least it wasn’t god-awful. It also made him feel good to see her wearing both Martier’s and Corrine’s clothes. It was obvious that she appreciated them and it helped her fit in as his assistant. “Uh…Mr. Singleton I noticed that you still call me Lindewe. Everyone calls me Linda—”

“Lindewe is your name,” He took a sip of the coffee. “Until you change it officially.”

“Oh, yes sir.”

“Who is that attorney that you were talking to?”

“Oh, sorry about that. His name is Bradley McPherson.”

“Who does he work under?”

“Aaron Rangbo.”

“Okay. Well, take off for lunch if you like.”

“Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“No. We had lunch delivered.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll be back soon.”

“Take your time Lindewe.” He turned on his computer and navigated through the firm’s directory and then he pulled up information about Bradley McPherson. He then dialed Aaron’s office number directly.

“What, Tim?”

“Hi to you, too.”

“Didn’t I just see you?”

“Yes you did.”
You crotchety old bastard.
“Look I wanted some information on one of your attorney’s; Bradley McPherson.”

“He’s pretty good. More wins then losses. What about him?”

“Is he a whore?”

“Uh, Tim I don’t think he likes men…”

“No is he a womanizer?”

“How in the hell would I know that?”
Claudette would
, he thought. “Look, he’s been hanging around my assistant and I want to make sure that he’s not bad news.”

“Oh. Well I have seen him talking to a lot of different secretaries. I would probably say that it would be wise to keep your girl away from him.”

“Thank you. And she’s not my girl.”

“I just meant-”

“I know what you meant.”

Aaron hesitated. “How are you hanging in there Tim? Since Martier…you know.”

He glanced at their picture. “Life…it goes on.”

“Yes,” Aaron sighed. Claudette wasn’t coming back and he was coming to terms with that. He was coming to terms that it was his own inattentiveness that caused the demise of their relationship. He didn’t know if Tim could salvage what he had with Martier but he hoped that he wouldn’t go down the same slope that he had.

“Remember when you asked me why I never married?”

“Yes. I remember.” That was back on Jakob’s Fourth of July barbecue.

“I said that I didn’t think I’d fall in love. But I did and when I fell in love I didn’t marry even though deep down I did want to. I wanted to be married to Claudette.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I told myself that it would be easier if I didn’t have to include Claudette in family gatherings or to force her to face the racism that my family doesn’t care to hide. I know what they think about other races; specifically blacks at the country club and amongst my circle of friends.” He took in a slow breath as if he was confessing his sins to a priest. “I also realize that I am utterly alone and those people that I put before my Claudette mean nothing to me. I realized that—too late.”

Tim felt sorry for him for being stupid enough to allow someone else’s opinions to dictate his actions. He didn’t give a shit about what others thought. His mistake was basking in a young woman’s unblemished beauty and admiration. He’d allowed her healing attention to overshadow what he knew was wrong; falling in love. That should have never happened and he should have discouraged any love from developing between them. She needed time to develop before he came riding in like a fucking white knight appearing to save the day instead of the bitter man that he actually was.

He honestly wished that she found her destiny even if it wasn’t with him. Which is why he would do anything in his power to honor her wishes, even if that meant that he now had a young daughter named Lindewe Nzeowu to look after.

After disconnecting with Aaron he dialed Bradley’s phone number. “Bradley, this is Singleton. I would like to meet with you, please.”

“Mr. Singleton, of course. When?”

“Now. I would like you to come to my office.”

“I’m on my way.” The young man had a wary sound to his voice. Good.

Bradley McPherson entered the office a short time later. Tim gaged that he was probably 6’2”. He was fit with blonde hair and hazel eyes and was maybe thirty—if that.

Tim stood and stared at the man with open hostility. Bradley nervously adjusted his tie.

“Is there a problem Mr. Singleton?”

“Oh we’re going to avoid that from ever happening.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lindewe. What are your intentions?”

Bradley opened and then closed his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you and Linda-”

“We’re not.”

“Then…” the younger man looked uncomfortable before straightening his stance. “Then with all due respect, what’s between Linda and me is our own business.”

“So there is something between you? Because if there is then…wonderful. But if there isn’t—and lets say that you are just trying to look for some in-work action and you fuck with her. Then I’m going to fuck with you. I’m going to fuck with your job. I’m going to fuck with your life and I’m going to fuck with your future.”

Bradley paled. “I was just saying hi to her. There really is nothing going on.”

“Then keep it that way.”

After a moment Bradley nodded and then turned to leave. Before he did he looked at Tim curiously and then closed the door behind him.

Oh yeah. There will be rumors. Tim shrugged.

After work he drove home. Home was now a studio apartment at the prestigious Lytle Tower where the firm kept an apartment for out of town clients—and the occasional clandestine tryst. He had been living here for nearly a month and actually liked the smaller accommodations; not so many rooms to roam through—and not as many memories.

His house was still on the market but there was some interest despite the economy. He was selling at a fair price and it was in a desirable area. Most of his furnishings had been sold into consignment through Bartholoma and the rest had been placed in storage. He had even gotten rid of Corinne’s truck. Now he had his Cadillac and his bike; the latter in storage until spring.

He looked out the window to the wet world surrounding his high rise apartment. Damn, it was actually already spring. Martier had been gone for nearly three months. At least she had relinquished her stand on no contact. He had received two letters from her—the first actually a package.

He had read the letter quickly where he stood. She had said; I’m in Africa! And it was before she had even said hello or made any other greeting. It made him smile.

Tim, I know that I said that I didn’t want to tell you where I was or to exchange letters but I wanted to tell you all of the things that have been happening.

He had carried the package into the apartment while still reading, nearly stubbing his toe on the corner of the cocktail table.