“It’s not like how you say, Ava.” I sighed. “I love Leon and he loves me and he gladly helps me out in whatever role I need him in. Right now, I need him to be my guardian, my protector. He’s an ex-cop, you know. Before he was baking those cupcakes he was stopping the bad guys. Now he’s doing that for me in his own way.”
“He’s not just your bodyguard, Sienna, is he?”
“Of course not.” I could hear the defensiveness in my voice as whatever nerve Ava struck vibrated along with the other mass of emotions running through me. “Though I have to admit, we’ve been married almost a year, and, to be honest with you, I feel like we were closer when we first married as compared to now.”
“It’s been a lot happening over the last few months; a lot, especially for newlyweds.” Ava eyed me.
“Yes. Definitely a lot. The aftermath of the terror coverage, this book I’m supposed to be writing. Leon’s bakery is struggling a little. A lot. Although I’ve offered to help him out, he’s insisting that his bakery fail or succeed on his own merits.” I shook my head, realizing how much Leon’s pride irritated me. Why can’t he accept my help? “My therapy practice has grown beyond anything I planned for; and now everything is on pause because of this trial where I’m the main witness. None of this is what I planned. And now Roman.” Should I tell her how he had upset me and that we’d barely talked to each other since Christmas? “And, of course, there’s the baby. We’ve got only a month to get ready for it, and it’s barely coming up in our conversation with all the other things going on.” I thought about our lunch with the Grants earlier that day, and the godparent hints. Clearly Leon seemed to be talking about the baby with his friends more than with me. “Neither one of us expected to be coming together as parents at this point in our lives.”
“Yes, you have a lot facing you right now, individually and as a couple, but that’s all the more reason to draw closer together. This is not the time to be drifting apart.”
“We’re not drifting.” I struggled to put into words what I had never said out loud. “It’s just that . . . Leon does not fully understand me. He does not fully get me, the work I do, why I do it. Though he’s never expressed it, I think he blames this whole court case and my role in it on me not leaving matters alone. He doesn’t get what I do or who I am as a social worker. And, what bothers me the most, he doesn’t get that I follow my gut instincts, and I’m usually right about them.”
“You’ve just said a lot. To me. Those are your feelings, and I’m not going to get into whether you are right or wrong. Rather, have you talked about how you feel with Leon, or are you just drifting along, waiting to see what will happen next? Marriage is work, honey. You’re only in year one. You both are going to have different ideas, interests, and perspectives. Figuring out how to come together as one is the tricky part.”
“I can’t compromise who I am, Ava, and I feel like I shouldn’t have to, even if it lands me in difficult or uncomfortable situations like the one I’m in now.”
“Nobody is saying you have to compromise who you are, but you do need to remember that you are no longer living an independent life. Your world has expanded to include a husband, someone outside of you who has thoughts, feelings, and beliefs that are just as relevant and as important as yours. I didn’t mean to get into all of this right now. It just concerned me that you still seem like you are trying to manage your life trials apart from your partner who wants to support you side by side, not just manage calls from strangers in the waiting room.”
I tried to let her words settle, but like snow falling on warm cement, I couldn’t handle any additional accumulating emotions.
“I hear you, Ava,” I said, ready to end the conversation. “For whatever it’s worth, I am compromising, well, accommodating Leon on a request he feels pretty strongly about. That woman I told you about a few months back, Sweet Violet, I’m not bringing her up to the lawyers or investigators.”
“Sweet Violet? You mean the homeless lady you’ve been meeting with in the plaza by city hall? What does she have to do with the case?”
“I guess nothing. That’s why Leon wants me to leave it and her alone.”
“And you should. You have enough on your plate to want to add another serving, especially one that could confuse others looking for clarity and answers in such a complicated trial as this one. Why would you even think she has any relevance to the murders?”
“Timing. That’s all.”
Ava pursed her lips as if she was about to say something, but then she shook her head. “I’m not even going to ask, Sienna. If Leon the ex-cop says to leave it alone, I’m not going to stir up any more confusion with further questions. Sienna, is Roman going to be okay?”
We both looked over at him. His chest rose and fell in comforting assurance. “That’s what they’re telling me. They just gave him a pain reliever that has him knocked out cold.”
“Good.” She reached out and patted his hand, careful not to mess up the bandages.
“Ava.” I felt the need to continue clarifying, maybe defending, what I felt. “You know that I’ve learned to trust my gut and that’s the only reason I can’t let things go easily.”
“Well, just remember your gut is full of a baby right now, and babies are always a game changer.”
Change. Everything in my life was changing.
Ava wasn’t finished. “You’re doing good, Sienna, but don’t settle for good. You have a great man so don’t just settle for a good marriage. There’s no reason for you not to have a great one.” She patted my knee, started coughing again. “I need to go. You don’t need me here. Leon can warm this seat. I’ve got an appointment to get to. I’m seeing a pulmonologist for this cough at two-thirty and it’s almost two o’clock.”
“Yes, Ava. That cough doesn’t sound good. I’m glad you’re finally getting it checked out. This baby’s going to need a godmother around to keep this mother on the right track.”
“Honey, I’m old.” She chuckled as she moved toward the room’s curtain-covered doorway. “I’ll gladly be the godgrandma, if your mother’s okay with that, but you need to get one of your younger girlfriends to take on the duties of godmother.” She must have seen the face I made, because she stopped walking, turned back to face me fully and offered pointed advice. “Stop blocking out the world, Sienna. Stop blocking out Leon. Stop being so stubborn and inflexible. And tell Roman, when he wakes up, that I stopped by. Bye.”
I listened to her footsteps disappear down the hallway, a steady, stable beat in the chaos of the emergency room.
And then another pair click-clacked in. Black shoes. Uniform shoes.
“Mrs. Sanderson St. James?”
“Yes?” Why can’t anyone get my name right? I looked up at the officer staring down at me. I recognized him as the one who had been talking to Alisa back at the scene.
“I understand that you had a question about your son’s attack. Please know that we are doing all we can to find the assailants and bring them to justice.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your efforts. I just wanted to get more information about the robbery. What exactly was stolen?”
“From what I’ve learned, a couple of credit cards we found scattered a block away, as well as his ID. Surprisingly, that’s all.”
“Surprisingly?”
“Well, his phone was still on him as was his cash.”
“His phone? And cash? They didn’t take his money? That’s good. Odd, but good. How much did he have on him?”
“Huh? Oh.” The officer had become preoccupied with a message on his phone. “A five dollar bill, a dime, and a penny. Excuse me.” He pointed down to the phone. “I have to take this call. Hello, Sergeant Tim?” He stepped out into the hallway, leaving me to wonder why that dollar amount was bugging me.
A five dollar bill, a dime, a penny.
Five dollars and eleven cents.
$5.11.
I picked up my own phone, realized that my hands were shaking.
&n
bsp; 511. The same number that had been on that broken pocket watch in Sweet Violet’s battered purse.
It’s all a coincidence, I told myself, as I had been telling myself over and over for the past few months.
“I suggest you go on about your way before I put the ‘n’ in Violet and acquaint you with my bitter side,” were Sweet Violet’s words at our meeting back in November, in this very emergency room.
It’s all a coincidence. Just the same, my fingers quivered as I dialed a number on my phone. He answered on the first ring.
“Leon, can you come back here? I need you.”
See, I listen, I wanted to tell Ava. I’m going to lean on him, let him be closer to support me.
But I also trusted my instincts.
There was nothing random about Roman’s attack, or coincidental about the numbers involved. I felt it, and the certainty of that conclusion soared to a new height of awareness inside of me.
This attack was a personal declaration of war from an unknown, unseen enemy. I wasn’t sure if Sweet Violet had a role in all of this, but I was determined to find out.
Chapter 15
Seven Months Earlier
“She’s an old, homeless woman who probably doesn’t even know her bag is missing. Why can’t you let this go?”
It was the Monday morning after our first big fight.
Leon was heading out the door to get the day started at his bakery when he noticed the bag dangling off of my arms.
“I’m just going to keep it in my trunk in case I run into her somewhere. That’s all.”
“Really, Sienna? I thought we agreed that you were going to let all the extra stuff go. You have enough on your plate without compromising more of our time together.”
“No, I’m not compromising our time. If anything I’m compromising what I would like to do just to keep you happy.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m not going to be walking around the streets of downtown looking for her, as you fear. Keeping the bag in my trunk simply allows me to give it to her if I happen to see her as I’m driving around. See, I’ll be safe and no harm will be done.” I could hear the bite in my tone. “If she gets her bag back, fine. If not, I’ll have peace in knowing that I tried.
“That’s what you’re telling me, but we both know that’s not what’s going to happen. There’s no way you’re going to let that bag stay in your car without you making every attempt to find her, and get involved, and rescue her, and spend more time trying to help her instead of focusing on us.”
“Leon, you are taking it way too far. It’s just a bag of dirty clothes and an old purse and it’s going in the trunk of my car.” I grabbed my keys and marched out of the door like he had done yesterday.
No kiss good-bye.
What was happening to us? And why?
My usual Monday morning routine of getting up and heading out to my therapy practice felt anything but normal. And why?
I still needed to tell him I was pregnant, but given our unfinished argument, I had no idea how or when to share the news. As I started the engine, I stared over at the bag of belongings—the housecoat, the slippers, the purse with the broken pocket watch hidden inside its lining—and knew on an intellectual level that dealing with it was more trouble than it was worth.
But something in me would not let it go.
The bag of belongings and my mission to find its owner was setting off all kinds of trouble in my home front, but I could not explain the unshakeable feeling I had to pursue the matter. Maybe it was the pocket watch that looked heirloom quality that had me wanting to reconnect it to its owner. Perhaps I was just feeling a bit off from being too close to a crime scene Sunday morning. Maybe the combination of too little sleep and too many hormones had twisted my judgment and soured my mood.
No. It wasn’t just my hormones or lack of sleep. I could not shake the nagging feeling that I was missing, or had missed something important, and that is what was bothering me.
“Are you a cop?” the young man with the old eyes and cigarette hanging from his lips had asked me the day before when I attempted to return the belongings of Frankie Jean, Sweet Violet, or whoever she was.
And I was pretty sure that I had seen the same young man in a black car down the street from the shelter the first time I went there, when I dropped the woman off. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, but something in the attire and mannerisms seemed one and the same.
And then there was the man I’d seen near the emergency room entrance when I first showed up to help. He had been mingling near the greenery by the door, seemingly unnoticed by anyone but me. When I tried to point him out, he’d disappeared.
Was that the same young man?
I felt silly thinking of these things and trying to draw conclusions.
My cell phone rang just as I turned right onto President Street, heading toward 83 North.
“Sienna.” Leon’s voice sounded through my Bluetooth.
“Leon,” I answered.
A long pause.
“Let’s meet up for lunch.” Leon broke the silence with these words followed by a loud sigh.
“Okay,” I answered immediately.
Another long pause.
“I’ll have Darci change my schedule around and I’ll come to your shop to eat.” This time I ended the silence.
“Sounds good, Sienna. Okay. I gotta go.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too, babe.”
We both hung up and I hurried my way up 83 to 695 to get to my Dulaney Valley office suite. I knew a full morning of children needing clinical services awaited me.
Play therapy.
After dealing with that client last year who I suspected of being a terrorist, child’s play was all I wanted to handle professionally from now on.
I didn’t want to manage grownup issues anymore.
Shoot, I was having a hard enough time managing my own grownup issues.
I was typing up case notes for a child who had attachment issues when my longtime office assistant, Darci Dudley, knocked on my door.
“Sorry to interrupt, Sienna.” She ran her fingers through her red hair and shook it: a clear sign that a cute man was somewhere nearby. “You have a visitor.”
“Send him on back.” I smiled and shook my head as she headed back to the waiting area.
A few seconds later, a gentleman with a tan suit, close shave, and a bouquet of lilies, daisies, and roses stood in my doorway. I started running my fingers through my own hair as the fineness in front of me tilted his head to one side, bit his lower lip.
Leon.
“I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Sienna, and I couldn’t wait for lunchtime to tell you that.”
We stared at each other a few heat-filled seconds and then I could hold it in no longer.
“Leon, I think I’m pregnant.” Breath held.
I watched his face go through every state of emotion like a radio dial—fear, wonder, anxiety, concern, exasperation—before finally tuning in to a station, a state, of pure joy.
“I’m thrilled, baby. That’s the best news I’ve ever heard in my forty-two years of living.”
We looked at each other in awe and silence and I realized I’d never shared a moment like this with any man before.
Ever.
Roman’s father had been out of my life before I even missed a period. I’d never been a parent unalone before. I’d never had a pregnancy partner, a labor coach, someone to sit next to me at little league games or recitals who had the same stake in the matter as I did.
I never had it, and I never before realized how much I’d missed it.
“Leon?”
“Yes, wife and mother of my child?” He was licking his lips.
“Shut the door.”
Chapter 16
The deluge of memories, of old arguments, of lingering regrets hung over my head as I followed Leon from the emergency department’s waiting room at Metro Community. Roma
n had been moved to an inpatient unit. “Just for observation,” the head doctor of the ED said.
“He looks worse than he really is,” Leon assured me as we took the elevators to one of the general med/surg floors. “Truth be told, due to the high profile nature of the case and your involvement, the medical staff is probably doing all they can to cover themselves. Roman’s fine. He will be fine.”
I’d said very little since Ava left. Though I’d called Leon back to the room, and he’d joined me immediately, ginger ale and graham crackers in hand, I couldn’t get out any words.
$5.11.
He would think I was crazy, overthinking, if I brought it up, I was sure. And maybe I was overreacting.
I needed Roman to wake up. I needed him to tell me exactly what he remembered.
“They really did this hospital up, didn’t they? New furniture, new floors, flat-screen TV. These private rooms rival our hotel suite.” We’d beat Roman to the room and were sitting on upholstered chairs by floor-to-ceiling windows offering sweeping views of downtown Baltimore.
“Please, Leon. It’s nice, but it ain’t no hotel. And the fact that we are comparing our current situation to a hotel room instead of our own home, or better yet, our anniversary suite in Miami, does not help me feel any better.”
“Well, I tried.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I glared at him. My attempt at including him in my personal pain was backfiring. Everything and everyone was getting on my nerves right now.
My son was here in the hospital, a victim of a crime I wasn’t convinced was random, and any effort to talk about my fears would be dismissed as irrational by Leon, I was sure.
I was angry with him at what he hadn’t even done yet and he didn’t even know why. I looked away from him, looked out the window.
“I have a delivery,” a chipper voice sounded from the doorway. A transport aide with big, graying blonde hair and a raspy voice pushed the bed carrying my son into the room. “I’ll let the nurses know he’s up here now and they’ll be around to speak with you soon.” She positioned the bed, set the brakes and turned on the television without us asking.
Sweet Violet and a Time for Love Page 10
