by Robin Allen
With the coolness of a cop about to catch a thief, Ramion stepped from the shadows of the trees. “Edwinna,” he said, his voice as cold as a polar bear’s toenails.
“Oooh,” Edwinna shrieked, her bags tumbling to the concrete. She backed away a few steps before the voice registered. “You frightened me, Ramion!”
This was the moment she had been waiting for, when he would return to her. She just wasn’t sure how long she would let him think all was forgiven before she ended the relationship. That was the way it was supposed to be: Edwinna deciding the outcome of the relationship.
“Why did you send Sage that tape?” Ramion asked, his tone so hostile that Edwinna stepped back from him.
“What are you talking about?” she said, stooping down to pick up the bags she had dropped. She was reaching for the last bag, the Neiman Marcus bag that contained an Armani suit, when Ramion pressed his foot against the bag.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Edwinna looked up at Ramion, her hand clasped around the handle of the bag. Ramion’s foot was clearly in the way. With a sinister smile, she asked, “Did it turn her on?”
“You bitch!” he bellowed, his voice registering the suppressed rage of a caged animal. He fought the urge to kick her, to release the anguish of his anger. He breathed deeply, then slowly moved his foot from the bag.
“It hurt her little feelings to see you with me? To see us having a good time?” she taunted while standing up. “You remember, don’t you? That’s why you’re here.”
“Why, Edwinna? Why would you do that to her?” His face was a mixture of confusion and anger. He was truly baffled by her Machiavellian ways.
“She stole you from me just when we were getting serious.”
“I don’t know where you got the idea that our relationship was serious. I never lied to you, Edwinna,” he said impatiently. “I never told you that I love you. I never told you that we had a future together.”
“You just didn’t realize it. Think about it, if we were together and you still worked for Daddy, you wouldn’t have to hustle to win the state senate. You would win hands down.”
“That’s not what we’re talking about. That’s not why you sent Sage a tape you had altered. That was vicious and mean, and you wonder why I ended our relationship.”
“She canceled the wedding, didn’t she?” she asked with a snide smile.
“It’s not going to work.”
“I already know that the wedding is off. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with you. So tell me, without Daddy’s backing and the bitch’s campaign know-how, how the hell are you going to win the election?”
“I don’t care about the election. I care about Sage,” he said. He knew that Sage’s feelings didn’t mean anything to her, but her father’s did. He paused, and then added, “I can’t imagine that Edwin would approve of what you’ve done. He would be very disappointed.”
“I can’t imagine that you would run and tell him,” she retorted, her expression changing from unconcern to worry for a few seconds.
“I don’t know you at all,” Ramion said disgustedly. “You’re an evil, conniving woman, and I can’t believe that I ever went to bed with you.”
“You loved what’s between my thighs, baby. That’s why you’re here now.”
“No, I’m here to tell you to leave Sage alone. Take out your twisted hatred on me, but don’t mess with Sage.”
She leaned forward and said, “I’m not some little nobody that you should think you can intimidate.”
“Let me tell you something, Edwinna. I don’t believe in hitting people, especially women. But if you bother Sage again, I will break every bone in your body.” He leaned forward, pressing Edwinna against the wall. “I’m tempted to now…but I won’t.”
The venom in his voice and the viciousness in his eyes unnerved Edwinna. But she wasn’t going to let him know that he had frightened her. “I got what I want,” Edwinna snapped back. “I don’t have you, but neither does she.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Ramion said, before turning away.
* * * * *
Sage sorted through her CD collection, searching for something to soothe the restlessness of her spirit, the sadness in her heart. Her fingers glided down the CDs neatly stacked in a storage tower, flipping past Babyface, Kenny G, the Winans, Angela Bofill, Anita Baker and Toni Braxton. Stopping at a TLC CD, she smiled and reminded herself to return Ava’s favorite CD. Ava’s taste in music was rubbing off on her, she was loath to admit.
None of the CDs appealed to her feelings at the moment, so Sage returned to her old favorite. Billie Holiday could lift her spirit with the sassiness of the music or drain her soul with the realism of her lyrics. Billie could be an upper or a downer, depending on her emotional state. Billie Holiday’s voice was familiar and was always there.
She pressed the first song on the Best of Billie Holiday album that was already in the disc player. Billie’s sultry, sexy voice and lazy inflections in the song “Strange Fruit” filled the room.
The melody wafted through the air, the haunting lyrics scattering like dust particles in the air, present but unseen. Sage didn’t hear the words, but the music seeped into her soul.
Sage turned on her computer and, while waiting for the system to boot up, searched through her briefcase for several file folders. She glanced through the folders and selected the project she wanted to work on for the evening. As she clicked the Mail icon on her computer screen, she wondered if something was burning.
Sage went into the kitchen and checked the stove. The burners were off, and the oven was off too. Nothing was burning, so she decided to get something to drink before returning to her bedroom. Opening the refrigerator door, she heard Ava upstairs walking down the hall.
“Something’s burning, Sage. You got something in the oven?” Ava questioned as she bounced down the stairs. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw flames raging in front of the living room window. “Oh my God! The house is on fire! The house is on fire!”
Sage slammed the refrigerator door closed and peeked around the corner. “Oh, no!” she screamed. “Let’s get out of here!”
They ran into the kitchen. Ava opened the door that led to the garage and pressed the button on the garage door opener. Sage grabbed the cordless phone and ran through the garage door.
Sage dialed 911. “My house is on fire. I need the fire department!” she screamed into the phone.
“Ma’am, they’re already on the way,” an annoyed voice said.
Sage took a few steps to the front yard. She saw the source of the fire. It wasn’t her house in flames, but a flag on a pole, burning on her front lawn.
“I don’t believe this,” Sage said, fear pulsing through her veins. She heard the piercing wail of sirens in the near distance.
Ava’s mouth hung open. “Neither do I.”
Several of their neighbors approached them. “Are you all right?” Ms. Odom, her next door neighbor, asked.
“We’re okay,” Sage answered.
“No, we’re scared,” Ava said.
Sage didn’t correct her sister, silently agreeing with Ava. The song “Strange Fruit” about black bodies hanging from Southern trees suddenly rang loudly in her ears, like a clash of cymbals. She shivered as if she were caught in the middle of a snowstorm.
A fire truck and two police cars pulled in front of Sage’s house. Two firefighters jumped off the truck, quickly removed the hose from the truck and sprayed water on the burning flag. The flames were out within minutes from the powerful force of water bursting from the hose.
A uniformed police officer approached the small crowd watching the firefighters spray down the fire. “Is the owner of the house here?”
“I am,” Sage said, stepping away from the crowd.
“Is anyone hurt or in need of medical assistance?” the officer asked in a strong Southern drawl.
“My sister and I were the only ones in the house,” Sag
e said. “We weren’t hurt.”
“We were just scared to death,” Ava said.
“I understand,” the police officer said. Removing a notebook from his shirt pocket, he asked, “What is your name?”
“I’m Sage Kennedy, and this is my sister, Ava Hicks.”
The stocky red-haired, freckle-faced officer wrote their names in his small notebook. “I’m Officer Douglas. I just need to get some information.”
Sage nodded. “Okay.”
“Ma’am, did you see anything?”
“Just the flag burning at my window. From inside my kitchen, I thought my house was on fire.”
“Did you see anybody suspicious lurking around?”
“I didn’t even think to look,” Sage said, noticing that her entire neighborhood seemed to be gathered in front of her house. She then saw a satellite dish perched on top of a white van driving toward them. “I see something I don’t want to see.”
The officer looked up and nodded. “I hate the media.” He turned to Ava. “What about you? Did you see anything?”
“No,” Ava said, shaking her head. “Nothing.”
“Three people called in the fire. I need to talk to them,” the officer said, peering into the crowd.
“I did,” Ms. Odom said, moving toward the officer.
“So did I,” Mrs. Peterson said.
The crowd in front of Sage’s house grew as reporters and camera crews arrived on the scene. As quickly as the flames were doused, the camera crews prepared their equipment and the reporters positioned microphones to capture the moment. The reporters fired questions at Sage and Ava.
“Were you or anyone else hurt?”
“Have you received threats?”
“Who did it?”
“What flag did they burn?”
“Did they leave a note or some type of message?”
Sage didn’t respond to individual questions, but made a brief statement. “I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt, nor was my sister. But I’m angry and shocked that someone would come to my home and do something like this. Things have changed around us, but what some people feel in their hearts has not. That frightens me.” She stopped before fully expressing her outrage. “That’s all I have to say at this time.”
The fire trucks and media vans were driving away when Ramion pulled into her driveway. He was relieved to see Sage standing near her front door, but when he saw the ashes and the singed remnants of the new flag, he felt the indignant, righteous anger he had felt when his brother was unfairly sentenced. He wanted to physically hurt whoever had violated Sage’s sense of security.
“Baby, are you all right?” he asked, putting his arms around her.
“I’m fine,” she said, stepping back from his embrace. “I wasn’t hurt, so please leave.”
Her curt response surprised him. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay.”
“I said I’m fine, Ramion. I’m not your responsibility. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m just fine.”
“You look upset,” he said, seeing through her façade of indifference.
“Of course I’m upset. I’m angry and tired, and right now I just want to be left alone.”
“Do they know who did this?”
“I don’t know,” Sage said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. I heard them say they were going to canvas the neighborhood to see if anybody saw or heard anything.”
Ramion noticed a police officer talking to a woman who lived several doors down from Sage’s house. “Did you tell them about the threats you’ve been getting?”
“I didn’t bring it up, but the FBI knows about it.”
“They need to treat this more seriously. You do too.”
“I’m not laughing,” she said reproachfully, feeling the dull pain of a headache. She wanted to take a pain reliever to prevent the dull ache from turning into a throbbing migraine.
“I’m going to talk to the officers and…”
“No,” Sage said, stepping in front of him. “I don’t want you involved. This doesn’t concern you.”
Ramion looked at her strangely, unable to believe that she could so easily cut him out of her life. “I care what happens to you, Sage. I love you, baby. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I can take care of myself, Ramion. I told you before; I don’t want to see you. Don’t call me, don’t…”
He placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “I did not sleep with Edwinna.”
She stared at him for a moment, the sincerity of his words penetrating her resistance, but she would not let down her defenses. “I know what I saw, and I don’t want to discuss it. You made your decision to work for Edwin. You’re certainly not going to have us both. Now leave me alone,” she said. The words that escaped from her lips were not spoken from her heart.
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw you talking to Edwin a couple of weeks ago. Then the tape with Edwinna.”
“I’m not going back to work for him. Sage, we need to talk—I mean really talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Our relationship is over. The wedding is off. So please leave me alone.” She turned away and headed to her front door.
Ramion followed behind her. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”
“Ava’s here.”
“No, you need protection from…”
Officer Douglas interrupted them. “Excuse me, Ms. Kennedy.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve just spoken with the captain. He’s assigning an officer to stay with you and your sister for the night.”
Sage peered at Ramion, her head throbbing mercilessly. “So now you don’t have to worry about us.”
“What about tomorrow?” Ramion asked. “Until the perp is caught, she needs to be protected.”
“The captain is looking into twenty-four-hour protection. He’s got to make some scheduling changes.”
“Now will you leave?” Sage asked impatiently.
Ramion stared into Sage’s eyes. He saw the anger in her eyes, sensed the fear in her mind and felt the pain in her heart. He wanted to hold her, make love to her and erase all her fears and doubts.
“All right,” he said. “But not without telling you that I love you.” He leaned down and lightly pressed his lips against hers. He didn’t care that the officer heard him.
Ramion turned around and slowly walked to his car. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. Sage needed him, but a door of deception stood between them, thanks to Edwinna’s wicked machinations.
While driving away, he regretted that he hadn’t slapped Edwinna for creating the tormented, untrusting look swirling in Sage’s eyes. His mind replayed the earlier confrontation with Edwinna, his anger escalating while driving on the interstate. He pressed down on the gas, accelerating his speed to eighty miles per hour. He was tempted to return to Edwinna’s house. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his mind wishing the steering wheel were Edwinna’s neck. He slowed as he neared the exit that would lead to Edwinna’s house and steered into the exit lane.
But the consequences of his actions prevailed. He passed her exit, breathing a sigh of relief. Ramion knew if he had confronted Edwinna at that moment, she would have felt the full impact of his fury against her and whoever had burned the flag in Sage’s yard. He would have ended up behind bars.
* * * * *
A butler greeted Sage as she stepped into a foyer that was five times the size of her house. “Good evening, Miss Kennedy. I’ll tell Mr. Lincoln you are here.” The expressionless butler pointed to a settee with his white-gloved hand. Sage sat down, awed by the richness of her surroundings: marble floor, carved beams, gilded chandeliers of ecclesiastical design and antique furnishings. The grey-haired, elderly butler reminded Sage of the ushers in a church, with his white gloves, shuffling walk and humble demeanor.
Twenty minutes had passed when Sage flicked her wrist to check the time. She’d begun to wonder whether the myster
ious invitation to Mr. Lincoln’s home was some sort of hoax.
“Mr. Lincoln will see you now,” the butler announced gravely.
Sage stood up and followed the butler through a pair of heavy carved wooden doors, like those of a cathedral, and through a series of rooms, each one larger and more elaborately furnished than the one before. Sage had a confused impression of rich Oriental carpets, marble fireplaces, gold-framed paintings, tapestries, fresh flowers and antique furniture. This house should be a museum, Sage thought.
The butler escorted Sage into the bedroom of Oliver Lincoln. The first thing she noticed about the room was the smell—the pervading odor of body fluids, medication and disinfectant hung in the air like a cloud.
The frail old man sat upright in bed, propped up by pillows. A nurse sat nearby, her expression gloomy and stern.
“Hello, Miss Kennedy,” Mr. Lincoln spoke in ragged breaths as if he had just completed the Peachtree Road Race. A warm toothless smile traced the edges of his mouth, and his eighty-year-old eyes sparkled. The once-handsome face had sunken in; the only indication of his youth was the fire in his eyes. Time had taken his color, darkening his skin from the tan brown of his youth to the mahogany brown of his declining years.
“Hello, sir,” Sage said softly, unnerved by the man’s slight body and sickly appearance, a stark contrast to his reputation as a powerful and influential man who wielded his wealth like a Greek god. From the time Sage arrived in Atlanta, she had heard the name Mr. Lincoln, always spoken reverently. He had founded a life insurance company in the 1940s, and his business prowess grew as he expanded into peanut farming and timberland. He was a reclusive man who had used his wealth and power to help elect Atlanta’s first black mayor. But as his health weakened, so had his behind-the-scenes stake in Atlanta’s business and political scene.
