Hidden Memories (42 page)

“Your Honor,” Ms. Powers said, “please allow me time to confer with my client.”

“Two minutes,” Judge Brackett said crisply.

“Are you all right?” Cynthia whispered to Selena, noticing that she was trembling.

“I can’t go up there,” Selena whispered into her attorney’s ear.

“You don’t have a choice. That’s what the judge wants.”

“If I commit perjury, he can put me in jail, right?”

“Yes, but they’ll have to prove intent, and…”

Selena interrupted her. “No! That judge looks mean enough to send me to prison. I’m not going to jail!”

“Don’t let him get away with it. Don’t crumble now.”

Selena shook her head vigorously. “I’m not going up there. I can’t.”

“Are you recanting the charges?”

“Yes.”

“What about what he did to you? The crude remarks, touching you on the butt, promising to help you study for the bar?”

Selena looked down at her feet.

“Don’t let him get away with it,” Cynthia insisted.

Selena kept her eyes glued to the floor.

For the first time, Cynthia began to doubt her client. “Did he or didn’t he sexually harass you?”

Selena stared at her hands folded on her lap. She put on her sunglasses and looked at her attorney. “No,” she said in a quiet, emotionless voice.

* * * * *

“Son, I’m so glad the judge dismissed those darn charges,” Linnell Sandidge said, affectionately patting Ramion on the back. “I’ve been praying for you. God works miracles. Yes, he does.”

“Yes, he does,” Ramion repeated, looking around his campaign headquarters, elated about his chances of winning the election now that his name was cleared. He waved at two women from his church, stuffing envelopes.

“She’s a wicked woman,” Linnell said. “I don’t understand how she could lie like that.” She shook her head and repeated, “Wicked!”

“I’ve got a better word to describe her,” Olivia said, standing next to her mother.

Mrs. Sandidge frowned reprovingly. “You know I don’t curse.”

“I’m just glad it worked out for you, big brother,” Olivia said, spontaneously hugging Ramion.

Sage approached them with a stack of flyers in her hands. “The printer just dropped these off.”

“Oh, how nice,” Linnell said, clapping her hands. She took a flyer and read it out loud, “Vote for Ramion Sandidge.”

“We’ve only five weeks to sway the voters,” Sage said.

“I’ve recruited some more ladies from the church,” Linnell said. “They’re going to help stuff envelopes.”

“What about passing out flyers at the malls and shopping centers?” Olivia questioned.

“We’ll do that too,” Linnell said.

“Good, good,” Sage said.

“Don’t forget to put signs on the roads and close to businesses,” Ramion said, his mind shifting into overdrive.

“I’ve hired some college kids to do that tomorrow,” Sage said. “I’m working on the list of places where we want to post signs.”

Olivia giggled with excitement. “I love it! What can I do?”

“Stuff envelopes or pass out flyers,” Linnell said.

“I’ll hand out the flyers. I want to tell people face-to-face to vote for my big brother.”

“A film crew is coming tomorrow to shoot his new commercial,” Sage said. “Ten days before the election we’re going to do a full-scale media blitz. You’ll see Ramion’s face every commercial time we can get.”

“Tell me what time to be here. I might want to be in the commercial,” Olivia joked.

* * * * *

Sage placed a plate filled with pancakes, bacon and eggs on Ramion’s side of the table. She returned to the sink, wiped off the counters and put dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “Breakfast is ready,” she called, then sat down at the table. She was pouring syrup over her pancakes when Ramion shuffled into the kitchen with a pleased grin.

“What are you all happy about this morning?” Sage asked, wondering what Ramion was hiding behind his back.

“Close your eyes,” said Ramion, dressed in pajamas and a robe.

Sage looked at him quizzically for a second, then closed her eyes.

Ramion unfolded the newspaper, spread open the front page and positioned it in front of Sage’s face. “Open them.”

Her eyes flashed open, and she leaned forward to read the boldface headline “CAMPAIGN BOMBING SUSPECT ARRESTED”.

“They caught them?”

Ramion handed her the newspaper. “They sure did. Apparently this white supremacist group that was run by a father-and-son team who didn’t want Cameron governor. The FBI has known about them for a while, but they never had anything concrete on them.”

Sage scanned through the article. “How do they know it’s them?”

“A store owner identified the son as the person who bought items for a bomb. The son had been in the army and was dishonorably discharged. He knew about explosives.”

“It doesn’t say much more than that,” Sage said, looking up from the newspaper.

“They probably don’t want to give away their case.”

“Mr. Lincoln told me to watch the newspaper,” Sage said thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?” Ramion said, sitting at the table and buttering his pancakes.

“When he was getting ready to leave the reception, he told me to check the newspaper.”

“How would he know?”

“That’s a good question. But, he must have known something.”

Shaking his head, Ramion said, “He must have. That old man still has clout.”

“Isn’t that something?” Sage ate some of her eggs and pancakes. “Remember we’re supposed to meet with the builders.”

“Today? It’s Sunday!”

“I want you to see the things I picked out. You know, the cabinets, wallpaper and lighting fixtures. Just to make sure you like them.”

“If I don’t,” Ramion said with a slight smile, cocking his head.

“What do we do?” Sage lightly challenged.

“Baby, you have good taste. Whatever you choose will be fine.”

“We’ll be moving right after the election,” Sage said. “Of course, you’ll be State Senator Sandidge by then.”

“Of course.”

* * * * *

Sage’s handbag flipped open when she tucked it in her office desk drawer. She finished her telephone conversation and noticed the NuYou Salon card that had fallen from her purse. She picked up the card, remembering how the Vietnamese woman had stared at her. She couldn’t explain it, but there was something in the woman’s eyes that spoke to her.

Not really knowing why, Sage decided to make an appointment for a nail touch-up and pedicure. She scheduled the appointment for four o’clock.

* * * * *

Three hours later, Sage walked into the salon with a sense of anticipation, although she didn’t know exactly what it was she expected.

She was greeted by the same friendly receptionist and was immediately escorted to a booth. She was given a touch-up and a manicure at the same time. After polish was applied to her nails, she was moved into the drying room.

As soon as she walked into the room, she knew why she had come back to the salon. The eyes in the painting, the colors swirling around. It was the painting that beckoned her.

“You like?” a voice said from behind her.

Startled, Sage spun around and saw Song. “Yes, it reminds me of a painting I have.”

“It does?”

“The broad strokes and the color palette are so similar…” Her voice trailed off. “Is this an original?”

“Oh yes, not a copy.” Song stared at Sage, staring into her eyes. “Sorry for staring. Your face very familiar.”

“How so?”

“My husband is an artist. He paints. He used to paint pictures of a little girl. He hasn’t painted her for long time. Now he paints…”

Sage felt a strange sensation in her head. It was dizzying and frightening. In the echoes of her memory, she heard her father’s laughter, raw and hearty.

“You have the eyes of the little girl in his paintings. That’s why I stare. I never seen such eyes.”

Could it be Daddy?
Sage wondered.
The more I look at this painting, the more it reminds me of his work.
Out loud, Sage asked, “Did he paint this?”

“Yes. There are so many I couldn’t decide which ones to hang here.”

“Oh, is this painting for sale?”

Song shook her head.

“Are any of his paintings for sale? I collect artwork. I’d like to see some of his other work.”

“He is not a popular commercial artist He mostly paints for himself. Soothes his soul.”

“What is his name? Perhaps I’ve heard of him.”

“Shakura. He is not famous. We just moved here. He showed his art in small galleries in California.”

“I would still like to see his work. I have friends who are art dealers and collectors. Who knows, maybe he’ll get to do some showings here.”

“He has studio at a place called the King Plow Arts Center.”

* * * * *

“Congratulations, son, I think you just won the election,” Raymond Sandidge said, his hand outstretched.

Ramion shook his father’s hand and drew him in, patting him on the back as they hugged. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Pop, but it’s still too early to call.”

“I’m telling you, son, Edwinna made a major mistake debating you. It was obvious she doesn’t know the community she wants to represent.”

Ramion wiped his sweating brow with a white handkerchief. “I’m glad the debate is over.” Craning his neck, he added, “It looks like the reporters are gone. I’m tired of answering the same questions.”

Sage and Olivia joined them, their faces as eager as two teenagers on their way to their first concert. “You’re in there, big brother,” Olivia said.

Sage kissed her husband. “You did a great job, honey. You were outstanding.” Sage reached inside his jacket pocket for a handkerchief and blotted off the red lipstick she’d left on his lips.

“If this had been a boxing match,” Olivia said, “I’d say you knocked Edwinna out in the third round.”

Sage, Ramion, Raymond and Olivia broke into laughter, the tension of the campaign disappearing from the moment.

“I like that analogy,” Sage said, still laughing. “You know, a part of me really would like to knock her out.”

“Now, now, Sage,” Olivia said. “Ramion did it all with words.”

“I just can’t believe she didn’t know anything about the landfill,” Sage said.

“Folks have been dying over there,” Raymond said. “Some of my coworkers lived there, and they used to complain about the smell and the high rate of cancer. People that live by that landfill are dying early.”

“I don’t understand how those companies can get away with it,” Olivia said. “I mean, rates of people dying from cancer are sky-high in communities next to landfills. That’s not a coincidence.”

“Until it’s scientifically proven, they will continue to deny responsibility,” Ramion said. “This issue is much bigger than I expected.”

“Excuse me,” an unwelcome voice said.

They all turned and stared at Edwinna, their faces betraying a mixture of surprise, contempt and displeasure.

Ramion’s scowl turned into a cocky smile. “Hey, everyone, it’s my opponent. Come over to congratulate me, have you?”

“I wouldn’t count my chickens before they hatch. It’s not over yet.”

“Face it, Edwinna,” Sage said. “He chewed you up and spit you out.”

Edwinna glared at Sage. “Believe me, I have great support. People willing to put their money where their mouth is.”

“So where were they today?” Ramion said. “And what about switching parties? You thought that was suddenly going to put you on easy street.”

“You know, Ramion, it really doesn’t matter to me one way or the other,” Edwinna said, shrugging her shoulders. “I was just exercising my options.”

“Oh, yeah, it matters,” Ramion said. “You’ll soon find out this has been an exercise in futility.”

“Like I said,
qué será, será
,” Edwinna said. “Whoever wins, wins.”

“Even your scheme with Selena couldn’t help you win this one,” Ramion said.

“I had nothing to do with that,” Edwinna protested before stomping off.

“She doesn’t care if she wins the election,” Sage said. “But they have spent thousands of dollars on her campaign.”

Drew joined them as Edwinna walked away. “She’s got a lot of nerve.”

Olivia said, “She just doesn’t give a damn. I’m going to drive Mom and Dad home. See you later.”

“Good night,” Sage said, as Olivia and Raymond headed toward the door.

“I wanted to tell you that I found out some interesting information about Selena,” Drew said to Sage and Ramion.

“Clue us in,” Ramion said, moving closer to him.

“She flunked the bar
three
times. But, she likes to live like she’s a lawyer with a high income. She was evicted from her apartment a couple of months ago.”