Sweet Violet and a Time for Love (12 page)

“You have an incredibly bright, creative, and compassionate son. You should be proud of the young man you have raised.”

The woman standing in my living room had hair that would make a weave-addict drool. Long, bone-straight, brown, healthy. I could cut it all off, no, pull it all out by the root, and make a killing with one of Yvette's friends in the underground world of Remy hair extensions.

“And tell us your name again?” I sounded like I'd sucked in helium, my voice was that high.

“Changuna. Changuna Rangan.” The words blurred together in a pronounced accent as she stuck out a hand. French manicure. No nail tips. Nothing fake.

I looked at her hand but didn't move. Roman glared at me and Leon stepped in.

“So, Roman has explained to us that you gave him an airplane ticket for him to go with you to India. Tomorrow.”

“Yes! I am very excited that he will be assisting me with this next phase of my life. Not only will I be looking for my children and saving my own daughter, I will be saving many daughters.” She smiled. Perfect teeth. Whiter than polished marble.

“As a parent,” Leon continued, “I'm sure that you could appreciate our concerns and questions about such a drastic decision that Roman is making to . . . assist you on the other side of the world. He still has several years of college left.”

“I know.” She shook her head. “I have been surprised myself at his willingness to help, but that is how prayers get answered sometimes, in the most unusual, unpredictable ways. I have prayed and God sent an answer.” She beamed. “Roman has promised me that he will finish school. There are really good online options available and several programs that will view his work in India as a study abroad or even internship experience. He is carving out his own pathway. You should be very proud, Sienna.”

“Mrs. Sanderson,” I squeaked out.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Changuna's smile widened. “It is just that we are so close in age that I thought such formality would be a little awkward, and I also wasn't sure what name of yours is correct.”

“Legally, I'm Mrs. Sanderson. Professionally, I still go by Sienna St. James.” I paused. “I'm sorry, but I must ask. Exactly how old are you?”

“Oh.” She looked surprised at my question. “I'll be thirty-two next month, the week after you turn forty.”

I realized that I was smiling, that I had been smiling, a wide, toothy grin that covered the entire bottom half of my face. Through my smiling teeth I cut a look at Leon. “Excuse me, but my husband and I have to check on the food.”

“I'll help Changuna to a seat at the table,” I heard Roman say as Leon and I marched into the kitchen. As soon as we entered, Leon moved the carving knife off of the counter, put it far out of my reach.

“Get that woman out of my house and out of Roman's head,” I whispered.

“What are we going to do, Sienna, tell him he can't go to India and tie him down to a chair?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We all go through phases where the lessons we learn don't come from someone else teaching them to us. Some lessons we have to learn ourselves.”

“This is not about me and RiChard.”

“No one said it was, Sienna.”

“And even if it was, that was a big enough lesson that I can share with my son to ensure that he doesn't make the same mistakes. I went through nearly two decades of pain, heartache, tests, and trials because of my crazy decision to run off in the world with him.”

“Roman is not you though. He has to put on his own shoes and walk in them.”

“Whose side are you on, Leon? Do you not get the investments I've made into this boy's life, financially, emotionally, and as a mother?”

“Of course I get it. This is difficult, but what can we do? Screaming and shouting, and from the looks of things, even calmly talking about his choice isn't going to change anything. You've made your investments. Now you will have to trust that all you've done will pay off.”

“You're not getting this, Leon.” I blinked at him, wondering if this was the same man who helped me look for my son when he was thirteen and searching for a gang of boys who'd stolen a prized possession of his; if this was the same man who stood beside me waiting for Roman's return when he'd run off looking for his father at age sixteen. “I don't know this woman. I don't know where he is going with her, what he is doing, or if he's even in his right mind to be making these types of decisions. Maybe we can get an emergency petition and have him held in the psych ward because clearly he is out of his mind right now.”

“Now, Sienna, you know—”

“I'm serious, Leon. There is no way that I am letting Roman go anywhere near a plane to India with a woman who is nearly as old as my younger sister.”

“You are not ‘letting' me do anything.”

When had Roman come into the kitchen? I hadn't seen him enter, but there he was standing in the doorway. “I'm twenty years old. I will be twenty-one in three months. I'm not crazy and I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm just living my life and this is a decision in which I've put in a lot of thought. I'm not rushing into anything. And I'm also not seeking your permission or blessing.”

“Roman, I respect that you think you are grown, but you need to understand this is a huge mistake. You do not throw away your education, which I am largely funding, let me remind you, to go halfway across the world with a woman who has kids nearly as old as you to live God knows where doing God knows what. If you are that interested in starting a business, fine. I am willing to give you startup money in whatever you want to start right here in America, but you are going to finish school and you are going to stay away from this woman completely. That is all.”

“And that's just it.” Roman's face turned red. I didn't know red on him was possible. “Ma, you have your own business, your own book deal, the continual spotlight. You've made your mistakes, gone through whatever you've gone through, lived your life and given me what I need to live mine. Like I said, I'm not trying to hurt you. I have to do this for me. I'm going to finish school one day, but I need to do this my way. I need to live my own life and I need to do this by myself. I appreciate you, and Leon, for your support, but—”

“Hold up, just to clarify,” I interrupted, “you're not going out on your own. You're just jumping support systems. Leaving our nest for another nest that already has two other eggs in it with a hen just as old as the one you're running away from.”

“I'm not running, Ma.”

“Yes, you are. You've been running ever since the day you found out the truth about your father. You ran to San Diego in the name of college to get answers, and now that you have all your answers about him, you're ready to run far away from the family and friends who've done nothing but love you and take care of you.”

“Always RiChard.” Roman shook his head, scrunched up his lips, looked away. “Contrary to what you believe, everything in my life is not tied to my father. Me going to India does not mean I'm running away or looking for him again. I've accepted that nobody can find him and that he doesn't want to be found. Truth is, I've let it go. The anger, the betrayal, the pain.

“Listen, me going to India doesn't mean that I don't love you and appreciate you for all you've done to raise me. I'm starting my life,
my
life, now. And I need to do it away from here, away from . . . you, everybody. India is where my life begins. And with Changuna. I prayed on it, Ma. I prayed on it and I believe with all my heart that this is what God wants me to do. She said herself, you heard her, that I'm an answer to her prayer. You've taught me to have faith, so that's what I'm doing. I don't have all of the answers to my own questions, but I'm sure that getting on that plane to India tomorrow is where my answers begin.”

“Roman, you have lost your mind if you think I'm going to allow you to drop out of school and board a plane to another continent with a complete stranger tomorrow morning.”

“Is everything okay?” Changuna entered my kitchen, that smile still sitting on her face, her track-grade hair swung to one side.

“No,” I said flatly.

“Don't start, Ma.”

Did that boy just threaten me? Did he just stand in my kitchen and tell me not to start?
“I'm not starting anything. I'm ending it right now.” I stepped forward, ready to explain to the woman exactly what I thought of her plan. It was her plan, for sure, because my son would never come up with such absurdity.

“No, we're leaving.” Roman placed a hand on Changuna's shoulder and led her back to the living room where their coats lay on the sofa. “I have to say good-bye to Grandma tonight.” He turned to face me just before he walked out the door. “I'm leaving in the morning, Ma. BWI. Gate D-7.”

“Roman, what is going on?” I heard Changuna ask him in the hallway. I listened as their footsteps echoed on the tile floors then I shut my eyes as the elevator that would take them to the condo lobby dinged open.

“Sienna.” Leon's arms wrapped around me.

The table was still set, the pans still filled with well-seasoned foods. Our Christmas Eve dinner still rested on the stove. I had a gift bag, a golden gift bag with a sonogram picture wrapped inside, sitting on Roman's plate. My good china. A greeting card for the new big brother was nestled in the bag's silver tissue paper.

“Sienna,” Leon whispered again. He pressed his arms tighter around me. I loosened from his grip.

“I didn't want to have to do this, but Roman leaves me no choice.” I reached for my cell phone, which lay on a kitchen counter, and scrolled through my contacts. “There is no way I'm going to stand by and let Roman ruin his life. He will not be getting on that plane tomorrow morning.”

“Ms St. James, Ms. St. James!” She was panting, breathless as she caught up with me in the hospital corridor. “I've been trying to reach you for the past thirty minutes.” Alisa Billy. We were just outside Roman's hospital room.

“I'm here visiting my son.” My hand was on the door, ready to push it open. Leon said Roman wanted to talk to me, so everything else was going to have to wait, as far as I was concerned.

“I know, and I'm sorry this happened to Roman, but we need you back in the courtroom. Now.”

I shook my head. “No, I am sorry. I can't come right now. The judge will understand. My son was attacked.”
And I'm not convinced it was random.

“Yes, Judge Greenberg has been understanding and you have been allowed a couple of hours to check on the wellbeing of your son. However, our understanding is that your son only sustained minor injuries and is stable with the expectation that he will be discharged soon. We need you back in court as the defense wants to complete a final cross-examination with only one last question, after which time you will be released from the trial as agreed upon by both sides. If anything else comes up, we will just refer to your written and verbal testimony. This is it, Sienna. It's not even three o'clock yet. A few more minutes and then you are done. A car is waiting downstairs.”

“I need to talk to my son.”

“You'll have plenty of time after your final testimony. We usually keep witnesses around for the entire duration of the trial, but in an effort to honor your current pregnancy state and your desire to travel before your baby comes, I've really pushed for you to be released. Surprisingly, the defense immediately agreed. Then again, I shouldn't be surprised. Usually it takes a long time to even get these types of cases on the docket, but nobody on either side has kept this from being anything but a speedy trial. Again, I'm sorry about Roman, but you are on the fast track to being by his bedside and taking him home within a matter of minutes. Let's go, Sienna.” She turned to leave, her high-heeled footsteps like punched staccato on the marble floor.

“Okay, let me at least let Roman know that I'll be right back.”

“Wait.” She spun back around and grabbed my hand over the doorknob. “He's sleeping. We need to go.”

“How do you know he's sleeping?”

“Sienna, we must go. Judge Greenberg has been very generous with your time. Your role in this trial is almost over.”

“My husband just told me that Roman wanted to talk with me.”

“Roman is sleeping. He may have been awake, but the painkillers have him knocked out again.”

“Wait, were you just in the room with him? And how do you know so much about his current condition?”

“Sienna.” Alisa had a way of raising her voice without raising her voice. I guess it was one of her abilities that had made her such a powerful attorney for the state's attorney's office. “Stop being paranoid. Everything is okay. Your son is fine. I'm just doing my job to ensure that the bad guy doesn't get away with these murders. Let's go.” Her voice was a throaty bark.

I looked at her and then pushed the hospital door open. Roman lay in the bed, his eyes closed. He didn't budge as I rapped on the wooden door and whispered his name.
That was fast.
Leon had just gotten me from the waiting room.

“See, asleep. Let's go,” she demanded again. She turned toward the elevator, her high heels back to punching the floor, her long black hair swinging behind her. I shook my head and followed.

We passed the waiting room. Demari had joined Yvette and Fiona, a Bible resting on his knee. He still had on his work uniform, overalls caked with mud on the knees. Work boots. It was a sacrifice for him to be here in the middle of the day. Both of them, I realized. Yvette must have taken Fiona out of school for the day to ensure that she would be able to stay without interruption.

Why had none of these details occurred to me before?

“You know we got you, boo.” Yvette smiled, seeming to read my mind.

Our relationship had come a long way.

She'd been the teenage mom and I the high school standout and our family had never let either of us forget our roles. Though I initially dropped out of college to chase RiChard around the world, I eventually reenrolled, working my way up to a master's degree to prove that I was capable of making it. She'd sunk lower into the struggle to survive as a single mom of five children by four absent or dead men, with no diploma, no job, and no desire to let anyone see her sweat, so she too could prove that she was capable of making it.

We spent years in separate corners, glaring at each other, licking our wounds, building our fences. It wasn't until recent years that we'd found common ground again, mutual respect, real love, self-love, no conditions.

Our relationship wasn't by any means perfect, but I don't think either of us expected it to ever be. We had each other's backs and that was enough.

“Hey, Sienna.” Demari smiled. His dimples made him look younger than he was. “Leon went to grab something from the cafeteria. He'll be back up soon. Roman okay? What's this I hear about him not wanting to pray?” His mouth tucked into a worry line.

“We have to go, Sienna,” Alisa whispered into my back.

“I'll talk to you. They need me back at the courthouse now. Let Leon know that's where I am and if he can to catch up with me.”

“No worries. We're here with Roman, and Mom and Dad are on their way. We'll all be here when you get back.” Yvette nodded.

“Thanks.”

The elevator door opened and Alisa nudged me toward it. Within moments, I was out of the hospital and in the back seat of a black Lincoln Town Car. I didn't recognize this car or the driver.

“Where's Joe?” I asked as the car turned toward the courthouse. I was used to Alisa's assistant being the driver, the protector, the shield, when Leon wasn't around.

“Oh, he's still at the courthouse.” Alisa looked unperturbed as she swiped and tapped on her smartphone.

I settled back in my seat and looked out of the tinted windows. The fact that I could see out and nobody could see in gave me a strange sense of comfort as we meandered through the downtown streets. It was a short drive back to the courthouse slowed only by the downtown traffic and the hordes of workers flooding the streets in the bright afternoon sun.

Almost done with all of this.
I closed my eyes and exhaled. Leon and I already had our bags packed and a flight booking app waiting to be used on our tablets and phones. This time tomorrow I'd be in Miami, I hoped. Our anniversary trip. The quick three-night getaway we so desperately needed to start over, to reconnect, to heal from the difficulties of the past few months, to move forward and prepare for the little one soon to join our lives. My parents or Yvette would watch over Roman's recuperation, I knew, letting Leon and I have one last fling before baby.

Maybe I should find out what I'm having.
I thought about Yvette playing with Fiona's hair, talking about how real these little lives were that come into our families. Now that the nightmare of the past few months was close to ending, the idea that I was ready to let this baby's coming arrival be real to me seemed possible.

And, dared I say, a little exciting?

“We're almost there.” Alisa still played with her phone.

I exhaled again, picturing white sand, warm water, my mammoth-sized belly squeezing into the two-piece swimsuit I'd ordered out of a couture maternity catalogue.

I was in a state of complete relaxation as we passed the final intersection before we reached the courthouse steps.

But something caught my eye in the humid summer afternoon.

A woman wearing a long black wool coat holding on to a worn shopping cart filled with plastic bags.

A matted black and gray wig sat atop her head and she stood still in the sea of walkers pouring in and out of the surrounding office buildings. I would have missed her, thought nothing of it, if not for one detail.

She stared directly at our car.

But nobody can see into these windows.
I shuddered, though not sure why. Even if she did know I was in the car, why would it matter?

I hadn't seen her in a while. I'd done all I could to help her and she'd pushed away any offer of assistance, insisting that I was the one who needed help those days I'd talked to her in the grassy area in front of city hall.

Sweet Violet.

“Okay, we're here.” Alisa Billy scooted out of her seat as the driver came around to open our door.

“Yes, we are,” I replied, before realizing that she was talking to someone on the phone.

She nodded at me as we bounded up the steps, pressed on all sides by the waiting journalists and courthouse crowds. Then just before we entered the door, she froze, her phone still cocked to her ear. “What do you mean we're finished for the day? Sienna and I just got here.” She paused, looked at me and scratched her head. “I was told that the defense had one last question for our witness. No, I got a text. I don't know. Didn't you send it?” She put her hand over the phone. “Sorry, Sienna, I'm just trying to figure out what's going on. I'm getting mixed messages. I—” She stopped abruptly, midsentence.

“Alisa?”

She reached for my arm, grabbed my elbow as her eyes crossed.

“Alisa!” I did my best to hold on to her as foam began sputtering out of her mouth. As she gasped for air, the crowd that surrounded us on the steps began screaming, shrieking, running.

Chaos.

“Call an ambulance!” I heard myself shout. “Hold on, Alisa.” I held on to the young woman as she slid slowly to the ground. I eased down next to her, holding her head upright in my lap. “Hold on, Alisa.” I saw the fear in her eyes, the panic, the horror.

And then the unmistakable glaze as her eyes set in place.

Dead.

As journalists and officers and the general masses swarmed, directed, and gawked around me, I only had one chilling, undeniable thought.

Once again, an untimely death had followed a Sweet Violet sighting.

These could not all be coincidences, I was certain of this, no matter what the cause of Alisa's death would turn out to be.