Sweet Violet and a Time for Love

by Leslie J. Sherrod

  “Something’s not right. I think I need to get checked out. Now.” It was not a total lie, I decided. Something sure didn’t feel right, and I needed to make sure, for the sake of my baby, that our current situation did indeed check out.

  The immediate concern on Leon’s face left me feeling guilty. I watched as he looked from the papers in his hand to the time on the driver’s dashboard.

  “Make the next right,” he directed the driver. “We need to go to the hospital.”

  In the mirror, I could see the man’s eyes narrow and a single bead of sweat form on his forehead. He switched lanes and did a U-turn heading back toward the city.

  “There’s a closer hospital the other direction.” Leon sounded aggravated, worried. Roman shifted in his seat, alarm ringing in his eyes as well.

  “We’re going to Metro Community,” the man said, the sweat now gone from his forehead.

  Maybe I was overthinking and overreacting, but my gut told me I’d made the right move.

  Chapter 33

  “Y’all just can’t stay away from here.” KeeKee Witherspoon shook her head as she directed me to a wheelchair. “You might as well have just kept that on-call pager with you, Sienna. At least you would be getting paid for showing up here every few hours.”

  A patient transporter took over the handles of the wheelchair from KeeKee. I was headed to the triage area of the Labor & Delivery Unit since I’d entered the emergency room with my head bowed and my arms wrapped around my stomach.

  Lord, what am I doing?

  I’d just wanted out of that cab that seemed to be driving in the wrong direction. I’d left the bag of flowers from Sweet Violet in the rear car seat.

  I’d had enough of that woman’s property causing me trouble. Shoot, that’s really how I ended up in the center of this mess anyway, dealing with her and her things.

  “Sienna, I want you and the baby to be okay.” Leon walked beside me. Roman was behind us, on the phone with my sister who apparently had my parents on the line as well.

  “Yeah, Aunt Vet,” I heard Roman say.“We’re back at the hospital. Something’s wrong with Ma and the baby. Yeah, I know. She’s not due for another six weeks, or something like that.”

  How was I going to explain this to anyone? I swallowed hard as the service elevators whooshed us up to the fifth floor where the L&D unit was. I closed my eyes and tried real hard to feel something, anything that would have warranted me saying I needed to be checked out.

  All I felt was the baby kicking away, the normal flutters and nudges.

  Please forgive me, everyone. My paranoia had put us in this situation, maybe even endangered us as we were supposed to be heading out of the country for our safety, but were instead back at Metro Community Hospital.

  “Hook her up to the monitors and check her vitals,” a doctor wearing pink and blue scrubs directed some nursing staff. “Hello, I’m Dr. Flanigan, and I understand that you were sent here from the emergency department with abdominal pain. Can you tell me more about what’s going on and what you are feeling?”

  The commotion around me did not stop as the nursing staff helped me out of my clothes, wrapped me up in a hospital gown, and began fastening around my stomach belts connected to various machines and monitors.

  “Uh . . .” I felt my eyelids flutter as the doctor waited for an answer. Leon, who stood next to the bed where I lay, moved in closer, waiting as well. I knew that Roman was waiting in a family area down the hall. I could still hear his voice in the distance explaining the situation to Yvette and my parents.

  Lord knows what he was saying as I didn’t even know what to say myself.

  “I . . .”

  “Hold on, one moment.” The doctor looked down at her pager. “I need to check on a patient next door. Our nurses will have you set up in a moment and I’ll be back to check on you very quickly.” She rushed out the room and I exhaled, though I knew this reprieve in explaining symptoms that weren’t there was only temporary.

  “I’m sorry, Leon, about everything. I know this is messing up all the carefully laid plans meant to keep us safe.” My eyes were shut again and I held the back of my hand against my forehead.

  “It’s okay, babe, don’t worry about the trip or our safety. That’s my job. You just focus on staying healthy for the baby’s sake.”

  “Wait.” I struggled to sit up as something, or rather, someone, caught my attention from the hospital corridor.

  “Why is the cab driver outside the room?” My heart quickened its pace. One of the monitors attached to me echoed my panic.

  “Calm down, Sienna.” Leon stroked my head, gently nudged me back to the pillow under my head. “Remember, he is part of our security team to get us to safety. As this was an unplanned trip, it makes sense for him to stay nearby to secure our surroundings.”

  That actually made sense.

  I wanted to kick myself. My fear and paranoia had definitely put us in a bad position. And why had I been so distrustful of the driver? Oh yes, 511.

  What if it really was a harmless coincidence? How would I ever explain this to Leon?

  This was his first child. Why was I messing with his experience? A swift pang of guilt rippled through me as the baby inside of me kicked away.

  My cell phone rang.

  I could hear its vibrations pulsing from the pile of my clothes on the chair next to me. Both Leon and I reached for it simultaneously.

  “You don’t need to worry about this right now. I’ll take care of everything.” Leon grabbed it up first. Instead of answering, he turned it off.

  Dr. Flanigan reentered the room before I could react.

  “I’m so sorry I had to leave, but where were we? Oh yes, Ms. Sanderson St. James, please tell me what’s going on.”

  There was no avoiding an answer and I didn’t want to lie.

  “I . . . I wasn’t feeling right, that’s all.” I swallowed.

  The doctor frowned, moved closer to the nurse who stood on the other side of the bed, her attention focused on an ongoing printout attached to the belt around my waist. What else can I say right now? I tried to swallow again, but my mouth felt as dry as a starched cotton shirt.

  “I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling.” I could feel myself shaking. I rubbed the sides of my abdomen which felt like it was tightening into a knot.

  “Are you feeling anything right now?” The doctor looked up at me from the strip of paper before looking back down at it, smoothing the strip between her fingertips.

  “I . . .”

  “You’re having contractions, three minutes apart,” she cut in, her eyes glued to the printout. “They’re not excessively strong contractions, but the consistency with which they are coming is concerning. I’m going to have to check your cervix to make sure you’re not in premature labor.”

  “What? Is something wrong?”

  Leon seemed oblivious to my sudden new wave of fear and panic. This was only supposed to be an act. Nothing should be showing up on that strip the doctor was studying. I strained my eyes, trying to make sense of the continuing lines that scrolled out on the strip of paper from the monitor that was connected to my belly. One line looked like a series of mountains with evenly spaced valleys.

  Contractions.

  I realized that the tightening knot I’d been trying to smooth down on the sides of my stomach wasn’t just my nerves. The doctor had already snapped on gloves, was checking me, before I could make sense of this new turn of events.

  “Okay, you’re about half a centimeter. That will only worry me if there are any changes. We’re going to give you some meds to hopefully relax those contractions since they are coming so frequently and at regular intervals. We’re going to keep you here for a few hours to make sure that there are no changes going on with your cervix. You’re not too, too far away from your due date, but let’s give that baby a little more time in the oven to finish baking.”

  The doctor said what she had to say and was disposing of the g
loves and exiting the room all before I could fully absorb what was going on.

  “Am I okay?” I heard myself whisper. “The baby seems to be kicking around its normal self.” I looked up at Leon, but the nurse, who still studied the monitor strip answered.

  “We’re keeping an eye on everything. The baby’s heartbeat is strong, so everything we’re seeing is reassuring. I’m going to start an IV to keep you hydrated and the doctor will let us know what meds to give you to slow down those early contractions. You’ll probably be out of here in a few hours, but you’ll need to take it easy.”

  “So I guess a trip, a vacation, is out of the question? Our bags are packed.”

  The nurse looked at me like I was crazy as she began the IV. “Honey, the only trip you’ll be making right now is to the comfort of your bed. You need to stay off your feet until you get the all clear.”

  She left the room, leaving just me and Leon.

  “I’m sorry,” I pleaded again, knowing he had no idea all that I was apologizing for.

  The news from the medical staff was not part of my script.

  “Sienna, stop apologizing. I’m glad we came when we did. I hate to think that we could have been airborne with you not even realizing that you were having contractions.”

  It was a sobering thought, I agreed. I rubbed my stomach, willing my baby to be okay and not come too soon.

  “I’m going to go update Roman so he won’t be worried.”

  “Give me my phone, Leon. I want to call my parents,” I called out to him just before he disappeared into the hallway. He doubled back and gave me my smartphone without hesitation.

  My intention was to call them. I’d had no other motive for wanting my phone; that is, until I saw the number of the missed call from moments earlier.

  A New Beginning House.

  I held my breath, looked at the doorway to ensure that Leon wasn’t there, and pressed DIAL.

  “Sienna,” Sister Agnes answered on the first ring. “I can’t really talk right now, we’re preparing for our dinner meal, but I wanted to tell you I came across something interesting.” She didn’t wait for me to respond, instead gave directions to a kitchen staffer, something about the size of a scoop of mashed potatoes, and then she spoke back into the phone.

  “I was going through that photo album with the pictures of Sister Marta through the decades, and I came across a picture I’d forgotten about back from 1972. No, Lilah, one scoop of potatoes, not two!”

  I could hear Leon coming back down the hallway. He was asking the doctor questions.

  Too much.

  All of this.

  The knot in my stomach tightened again. Were these contractions getting stronger?

  “Sister Agnes?” I managed to get out.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. What was I saying?” The woman paused before continuing. “I remember. 1972. That’s the year Sister Marta came to our shelter, not as a staff member but a guest. She was a woman of the world back then with one foot on both sides of the fence before she decided to come fully on the side of righteousness.”

  “What was the picture of?” I tried to hurry her along, knowing that Leon and the doctor would not be pleased to see me stressing over a phone call.

  Shoot, I was not pleased. I felt my stomach tighten into a knot once again.

  “You asked me if a woman named Frankie Jean stayed at our shelter the night before Sister Marta died. I told you I knew of no such woman, nor did I have any reason to believe that Marta would hide someone from me, but now I’m rethinking both possibilities, though it would make little sense.”

  “What do you mean?” I looked over at the strip of paper coming out of the contraction monitor. The mountain peaks looked higher, the valleys closer together. I wasn’t a medical professional, and I hadn’t had a baby in twenty-one years, but something about the strip did not look encouraging.

  If I wasn’t concerned about our safety, I would have hung up on the shelter director right then and focused solely on deep breathing in an effort to help my active uterus calm down, if such a calming down was possible.

  “Like I said, Sister Marta was no saint when she first came to our shelter as a resident. I didn’t like the company she kept and I told her that she would have to distance herself from the crowd she was running with if she wanted to stay. I do not tolerate foolishness and trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble, Sister Agnes?” And what did any of this have to do with Sweet Violet?

  “I don’t know, but you could tell that the friends she had were up to no good. Party people. I tried to help those girls back then, but in the end Marta was the only one who turned to righteousness.”

  “Girls? A picture? You said there was a picture or something?” I needed her to get to the point. Immediately. Leon and the doctor had paused out in the hallway. I could hear Dr. Flanigan explaining something to him about the medication she wanted to give me.

  “Oh, yes. Marta had a friend who stayed at the shelter for a short time back then. I didn’t like her and she didn’t like my rules. I guess that’s what happened, because she left all of a sudden and I never saw her again. That was, what, about forty years ago? And although Marta had seemed real close to her, she never talked about her even once after the woman up and disappeared.”

  “Do you remember the woman’s name?”

  “Of course I do. Francesca Dupree. The other women called her Frankie and I remember everyone seemed to be scared of her. Even Marta trembled a little around her presence, though she called her a friend. I didn’t like the woman, her smoking, drinking, and cussing.”

  “Can you send me the picture?” My heartbeat quickened. Francesca Dupree.

  “I guess I can. I’ll get my teenage granddaughter to come in here and snap a picture and, I guess, text it to you?”

  “That’s perfect. Thanks, Sister Agnes. I know Sister Marta was a dear worker, so I want to make sure that her legacy stays intact and justice is served. You sharing this information helps.”

  “Frankie. Haven’t seen that woman in nearly forty years. Had forgotten completely about her until I saw this picture today.” Sister Agnes sounded like she was talking more to herself than me. “Marta knew I didn’t take a liking to that woman, so I guess it would make sense for her to hide her from me if she had for some reason returned. I don’t know why she left, and I don’t know why she’d come back, especially after all this time. Listen, I need to go, but I’ll send you the picture. Now, I’m curious if it’s the same woman you’re talking about. Just remember, it’s an old picture, so I’m not sure how much good it will do. Bless the Lord, good-bye.” She hung up without further conversation.

  And just in time.

  The nurse returned to the room and added something to my IV.

  “Okay, we’re going to keep you under observation for a little bit to make sure those contractions are slowing down.”

  “Are they any better?” Leon came in right after. The doctor had gone on to another room.

  “Mmmm, about the same.” The nurse studied the strip. “Actually, maybe a little worse. But don’t worry. I just gave her the medicine Dr. Flanigan told you about. Hopefully, we’ll see a difference soon.” She fiddled with the monitoring belts across my belly and then left the room.

  Leon eased into a chair beside me.

  “It’s going to be okay, Leon,” I tried to reassure him though my head was spinning with questions beyond capacity.

  The cab driver walked past the door.

  “You said he’s just providing security for us, right?” I tried not to sound nervous. I knew that if Leon knew all that was going on in my mind, he’d be horrified.

  I had to stay calm for the baby.

  It was several weeks too early for the baby to come.

  “We’re safe, Sienna. I had you checked in under a different name so the front desk won’t be disclosing any unnecessary information.”

  “Who is it that we are hiding from?”

  Leon looked at me and sh
ook his head. “You don’t have to worry about any of that at all. I’ve got it, babe.”

  “Leon.” Roman stood in the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face as he beckoned my husband to come to him. I felt like he was avoiding eye contact with me.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “I’ll be right back,” Leon stated, hopping up and meeting Roman in the hallway. I watched them scurry away, Leon’s phone to his ear. They disappeared around the corner.

  My phone vibrated.

  A text.

  I pulled up the message and stared at the attachment, the picture sent from Sister Agnes.

  Clearly a Polaroid picture and clearly the seventies, I stared at a much younger version of Marta wearing brown bellbottoms and a bright orange blouse.

  And the woman standing next to her.

  Though the woman looked to be in her mid-twenties to early-thirties and had a huge afro, knit dress, and moccasins, the smattering of brown freckles and the rich cocoa skin were a dead giveaway.

  Sweet Violet.

  Chapter 34

  She was beautiful back then. I gasped, looking at the attention given to her made-up face, the long slender legs, the hourglass figure. A slight gap between her top two teeth even added a hint of natural, easy beauty to her smiling face.

  Ms. Marta knew this woman, Frankie Jean. From the way they stood close to each other in the picture, grinning, it was obvious they had been good friends. I thought about what Sister Agnes said about Marta’s friends: up to no good, foolishness, and trouble. She said that this woman, Francesca Dupree, was a smoker, drinker, and cusser, all evil vices from where Sister Agnes came from.

  She said that everyone seemed to be a little afraid of this Francesca, too.

  Amber had been afraid. I remembered how she alternated between trying to give me information about her and wanting nothing more to do with her.

  Why would anyone be afraid of this woman, whether looking like a 1970s supermodel, or wandering the streets homeless, and, well, a little off? And how did she end up in that predicament anyway? And where had she been for the past few decades and why had she suddenly returned? Ms. Marta had said that she’d been there for just a week or so when I called her that first night at the ED.