by Robin Allen
“That’s what cancer does. It’s a cruel disease. Don’t you be cruel by not going to see him. Go to him, Ava. Hold your favorite memories of him in your mind. And remember, you need to do this too. How are you going to feel later if you don’t see him? Can you live with that?”
“I think I could, Sage. But Daddy wouldn’t understand. Neither would Mama. It would hurt him to know I didn’t want to see him.” She sipped her tea. “I can’t do that to him.”
“Then go. You can leave this afternoon. I’ll make the reservation.”
“Would you go with me?”
“I can’t leave today, but I’ll come in the next day or so. I don’t want you to wait on me.”
“Are you really going to come home?”
“Yes, I’ll be there. I promise.”
Sage thought about the last time she’d stood on her mother’s porch, waiting for Aunt Maddie, feeling afraid and abandoned. She hated her stepfather for brutally taking her virginity and destroying her relationship with her mother. For years she’d wanted to seek revenge, to cost him something precious. But in the end, she’d settled on disappearing from their lives. She had hoped her disappearance would come between Aaron and Audra, that her mother would come to hate him for what he’d done to them. But Audra had remained loyal to her husband, and now he was about to die.
Sage didn’t feel anything for her stepfather, not sadness, not pity, not sympathy. She thought his death was a late punishment for a cruel crime. But mixed in those feelings of dispassion was guilt. His death was going to be devastating for her brother and sister. They were the reason she hadn’t filed charges against him. She would never hurt them by revealing the truth.
Chapter Thirteen
Five days after Audra’s late night call, Sage plodded up the four steps of her mother’s porch. The three-story brick house looked different. It was a deeper shade of red than she remembered, and the wood shutters were now black instead of blue. A green-and-pink flower-patterned glider had replaced the blue- and white-striped glider.
She rang the doorbell, telling herself not to think about the last time she’d stood outside this door. Not to remember the moonlit summer night, the fear and hurt and the ache between her legs. But the anguish in her heart was there again, all the same—along with the memory of her mother’s angry, reproachful eyes and the sound of “Little Red Corvette” blasting from the radio.
Her brother swung open the door, a slight smile softening his somber expression when he saw Sage.
“Hey, big sis,” he said, throwing his arms around her.
Sage hugged him back affectionately. “It’s good to see you, Aaron,” she said. “In spite of the circumstances,” she added, looking him over. He had lost weight since she’d last seen him the summer before. His blue corduroy pants and a tweed navy-blue sweater hung loosely on his tall, lanky frame. Round gold-rimmed Benjamin Franklin-style glasses covered his small dark-brown eyes, the focal point on a long cinnamon-brown face with an angular, thin nose and wide mouth.
Sage suddenly remembered when she bought Aaron and Ava their first pairs of contact lenses. The twins were high school juniors, and Ava constantly complained that her thick glasses were interfering with her dating. Ava took to the contacts like a fish in water, but Aaron fumbled around with the cleaning and disinfecting and enzymatic solutions like one of the Three Stooges. Ava never wore her glasses and, after two months, Aaron never wore his contact lenses.
Touching his chin, “A beard?” Sage said, rubbing her hand against the heavy stubble. “It looks good on you.”
“I’ve been too busy to shave,” Aaron said matter-of-factly. He looked around the front porch. “Where’s your luggage?”
“It’s at the hotel.”
“Sage, you didn’t have to go to a hotel. You could have stayed here,” Aaron chided, his brows creased.
“I wanted to stay in a hotel. Besides, I knew your Dad’s relatives would be coming into town, so it just made it easier.”
“Well, let’s not stand in the doorway forever. Come on in and see everybody. Dad’s brothers are here, and Aunt Bertha and Aunt Cora.”
“Where’s Ava?”
“She went grocery shopping with Mama.”
“How’s she doing? She was reluctant to come,” she said, trailing behind Aaron through the wide hallway.
“She’s a basket ease. That’s why I’m glad you’re here. She became hysterical the first night she saw him. The doctor gave her Valium.”
Sage batted her eyes. “Valium?”
Noticing the disapproving expression on Sage’s face, Aaron said, “I don’t like her taking them either. But she needed something to calm her down.”
“Ava doesn’t need to be taking any drugs,” Sage said with a protective fierceness in her voice.
“The doctor prescribed them,” Aaron explained casually.
Shaking her head, Sage said, “I know but…”
“Sage, darling, how you doin’?” her Uncle Cedric interrupted, as he stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. “You sure have changed. I haven’t seen you in years. The last time I seen, you was probably sixteen or seventeen, just graduated from high school.”
“That’s right, Uncle Cedric,” Sage said. His big round face and grin reminded Sage immediately of her stepfather. She had forgotten how much the brothers resembled each other. Both had been big and burly but, unlike Aaron, Cedric had the personality of a teddy bear. As a young girl, Sage often wished it had been Cedric her mother had married.
“Suga’, you gotta give me a hug. It’s been too long.” Cedric put his arms around Sage’s shoulders, embracing her warmly. “You looking good, girl. Even prettier than I remembered,” Cedric said.
“Thank you,” she replied coolly. “You look pretty good yourself.” They walked down the hall, passing the front stairs, the living room and the dining room. Voices grew louder as they approached the kitchen.
“Hey, everybody, Sage is here,” Cedric announced when they entered the huge kitchen.
The dark-brown kitchen cabinets, she noticed, had been replaced by pecan and white cabinets. The green- and white-checkered tile floor and the tier gingham curtains hanging on the windows were also new.
Sage found herself surrounded by a host of step-relatives, greeting her with kisses and smiles and introductions to cousins, nieces and nephews. Most of the men sat around the kitchen table, while the women were busy at the sink, stove or countertops, chopping, dicing, cleaning or cooking. Bottles of whiskey, vodka and rum sat open on the table.
“Here, let me take your coat,” her brother offered. “I’ll hang it in the closet.”
Sage unbuttoned her black leather coat with fur trimming the collar and sleeves. She was dressed in a purple two-piece pantsuit, a button-down tunic top with matching pants.
She offered to help with the food, but the women wouldn’t hear of it.
“You go take a seat over there. Buster, get on up now! Let Sage sit down. Let her rest a spell before she gets mixed up in this madness,” Aunt Essie, Cedric’s wife, said.
Buster, Cedric’s nineteen-year-old son, stood up reluctantly, offering Sage his chair. She took the seat at the end of the rectangular oak table that matched the corner hutch brimming with dishes and knickknacks. The kitchen was always her favorite room, where she’d spent most of her time with her family.
Sage found herself the center of attention, as if she were on trial, with all the questions they fired at her.
“What’s the governor of Georgia really like?”
“Oh, I heard you live in a mansion.”
“Ava says you drive a Mercedes-Benz, is that true?”
“I’m glad you didn’t get hurt badly by that bomb. Do they know who did it?”
“Have you really met the president of the United States?”
Sage answered their questions, surprised that they all knew so much about her. She’d assumed her mother wouldn’t talk about her except to complain that she’d gone
to college, then gotten a big-time job in Atlanta, and forgotten all about her family. Now she didn’t know what to think about her mother’s apparent pride in her success.
Chatting with her steprelatives, Sage learned how devastating Aaron’s death was to his family. Aaron’s family depicted him as a wonderful, giving and generous man. If only they knew the truth, Sage thought. It was amazing how a man could be both revered and hated, with the same degree of passion.
For just an instant, Sage wished she had come home before Aaron died, to confront him about the rape. She had made arrangements to fly to Baltimore two days earlier, but had to reschedule because of an unexpected business meeting. She’d actually been relieved when Cameron asked her to attend the meeting on his behalf. She hadn’t really wanted to see Aaron on his deathbed. Seeing him frail and helpless and ravaged by cancer might have lessened her anger and bitterness, made her want to forgive him. And that was one thing she never wanted. She didn’t ever want to forgive him.
“Excuse me,” Sage said, glancing at the cuckoo clock on the wall over the stove. The old clock brought a soft smile to her mouth, triggering a memory of the time seven-year-old Aaron Jr. had taken it off the wall to let the bird out. She had put it back a few minutes before their mother came into the kitchen. “I need to use the phone.”
“Use the one in my room,” Aaron suggested. “It’s much quieter.”
“Okay,” Sage said, rising from the chair. She bent to retrieve her briefcase leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Are you going to call the governor?” asked a cute little girl with long ponytails. Sage couldn’t remember whose daughter she was.
“Not right now,” Sage answered, returning the child’s sweet smile. She walked up the back stairs to the second floor and their voices faded away, replaced by an eerie quiet.
Sage stopped at her mother’s room. Peeking in the doorway, she realized the room was virtually unchanged. The next room was her sister’s. It was typically Ava—bed unmade, drawers half-opened, clothes strewn on the floor and bottles scattered on the dresser. She continued to Aaron’s room.
Smiling as she eased down on the bed, Sage remembered how different the twins were. Aaron’s room had always been neat and orderly, Ava’s room a disaster zone. As a teenager, Sage had often asked her mother, “They’re so different Are you sure they’re twins?”
She picked up the telephone and called Marika. After talking on the phone with her assistant, she took a chance and called Ramion at his office, smiling when he answered.
“I thought you’d be in court,” she said.
“The judge ordered a recess until three o’clock,” Ramion said. “How are you, baby?”
She sighed into the phone. “I’m okay.”
“You don’t sound okay.”
“I am. Really. It’s just being surrounded by Aaron’s relatives. They drilled me about my life in Atlanta, and I guess they know more about me than I expected.”
“What about your mother? How did it go with her? How did she act?”
“I haven’t seen her yet. She and Ava went grocery shopping. But part of me wants to leave, go back to the hotel and wait to see her tomorrow. The only trouble is the other part of me knows I’m just trying to avoid the unavoidable.”
“Listen to the first part, baby. Get it over with.”
“I wish you were here.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow night.”
“I know. I know.” She heard the shrill sound of his beeper. “You gotta go?”
“Yes,” Ramion said. “I’ll talk to you tonight. Love you, bye.”
Sage leaned back against the bed and closed her eyes for a few minutes. She thought about the attic where she’d slept—where she’d been raped. Struck with the urge to go up there, she crossed the hall to the attic door. She turned the doorknob, but the door wouldn’t open. She tried again, but realized that the door was locked.
She heard the floor creaking and turned toward the back stairs.
“That door has been locked for years. Mama closed off the attic after you left,” her brother explained as he walked over to Sage. A wry smile spread across his face. “No one ever goes up there. After you left, Ava thought there had to be a ghost up there.”
“She told me,” Sage said.
“I came up to tell you that Mama and Ava are home,” Aaron said.
“I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Okay,” he said, before turning around and heading toward the stairs.
Ten minutes later, Sage walked down the back stairs that led into the kitchen.
“Oh, Sage, Sage, Sage,” Audra said, when she saw her daughter emerge from the stairs. She ran to Sage, hugging her tightly. Sage felt the eyes of everyone on them, and slowly, reluctantly responded to her mother’s overpowering embrace.
“Hello, Mama,” Sage said, backing away and staring into her mother’s face. The woman she’d seen just a few months ago looked different. It was in the eyes, Sage decided—the bright, vibrant eyes that were now dull, weary.
“You look so good, so beautiful,” her mother said. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Don’t hug her forever,” Aaron said, watching them hug and wondering why Sage had never come home before now.
“I could,” Audra said, releasing her tight grip around Sage’s waist. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen her.”
“You saw her in October,” Aaron reminded his mother.
“I know, but it wasn’t long enough.”
An awkward silence filled the space between mother and daughter until Ava broke the spell. “Don’t I get a hug?”
“Ava,” Sage said, grabbing her younger sister. “Are you holding up?”
Ava tilted her head to the side and released a somber Mona Lisa smile. “I’m okay.”
“Enough with the hugs and kisses,” Aaron said. “Let’s get the groceries out of the car so we can eat.”
“Amen,” Cedric said, twirling the glass of rum and coke in his hand. “I’m starving.”
* * * * *
Sage didn’t shed a tear at her stepfather’s funeral. When she spotted her Aunt Maddie sitting across the church aisle, an understanding gaze passed between their eyes. They both knew that the praises the minister bestowed upon Aaron Hicks were not entire truths, but distorted by the prism of permanent passing. Sage wanted to stand up and shout the truth about the man lying dead in the coffin. But she knew no one would have believed her.
Sheets of rain poured from the sky as the funeral procession made its way to the cemetery. Sage and Ramion headed in the opposite direction, toward the Hicks home, where family members would all gather after the funeral services.
“Aunt Maddie! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Sage jumped up from the couch and embraced her aunt when she entered the living room crowded with relatives.
“I came to see you,” Aunt Maddie said, putting emphasis on the last word. Lowering her voice, she whispered into Sage’s ear. “I certainly didn’t come to pay my respects to Aaron. That funeral was too good for him. That minister made him out to be a saint. But we know better.”
“We sure do,” Sage said, and then noticed the expensive fur coat. “You look fabulous.” Her aunt had always managed to dress like a wealthy woman despite the teacher income she’d always lived on.
“Thank you, dear. And you’re as pretty as ever. Satchel would be so proud of you.” She smiled, making deep impressions on both sides of her round face. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your fiancé? He’s the real reason why I came to old Aaron Hicks’s funeral.”
Ramion was in deep conversation with Cedric about sports.
Sage tapped his shoulder. “Excuse me, Cedric. I want Ramion to meet my aunt.”
“Yes, yes,” her uncle said, getting up from the sofa. “I need to fix another drink.”
Ramion stood up as well.
“Honey, this is my aunt. Aunt Maddie, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Ramion Sandidge.”
Ramion extended his hand, but Aunt Maddie ignored the offer. “We’re going to be relatives. You’re marrying my very favorite niece. I think a hug is more appropriate.” Aunt Maddie gave him a quick, warm embrace.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kennedy,” Ramion said, flashing a warm smile at the tall, big-boned, light-skinned woman.
“Oh no, call me Aunt Maddie.” She tucked her arm into Ramion’s elbow. “Come walk with me. I want to get to know you.”
“Remember, Aunt Maddie, he’s a lawyer. He knows how to duck and dodge questions.”
“Good, because I’m pretty good myself. I’m really going to enjoy this,” Aunt Maddie said, steering Ramion into the dining room. “Now tell me how you met my niece.”
* * * * *
While Ramion became acquainted with Aunt Maddie, Sage and her mother traveled down memory lane to the fork in their past that sent them down separate paths. Audra longed to cut through the tangled vines of their memories.
“Sage, I really need to talk to you,” Audra said, her fragile voice unusually insistent.
“Yes, Mama?” Sage said, leaning against the kitchen counter, nibbling on the last piece of coconut cake.
“I heard you telling Aaron that you’re leaving tomorrow.” She paused, carefully choosing her next words. “I want to talk with you privately. With you leaving so soon, I might not get another chance.”
Sage nodded. She’d dreaded this moment, although she’d known it was inevitable. All day, she’d felt her mother watching her, practically stalking her with her eyes. Even at the funeral when Audra should have been focused on her grief, Sage had caught her mother staring at her with pleading eyes.
“Come upstairs. We’ll have some privacy in my room.”
Sage followed her mother up the stairs, noticing the familiar creak and squeak of the floorboards. The third step from the top would squeal, and the step at the top of the stairs had always creaked the loudest. As Sage entered her mother’s bedroom, she immediately felt Aaron’s presence—his smell was there, still lingering.
“So, Mama, I see you haven’t changed much in your room. Same furniture, arranged the same way. Exact same pictures on the wall. Nothing’s different.”