Hidden Memories (12 page)

He held his breath, waiting for her response.

Such a perfect moment,
Sage thought: Ramion, the tropical paradise and the ring. It was beautiful and exotic and erotic. She couldn’t have imagined a happier moment; the joy bubbling inside her defied description. Soft tears fell from her face, wetting the sand.

“I didn’t want you to cry,” Ramion said. Her quiet response had surprised him, and now the tears. He’d imagined her ecstatic, screaming with delight.

“Oh, Ramion, these are tears of joy,” Sage whispered.

With those words, Ramion gulped the air he’d been denying himself. Then he asked the only question left unanswered. “Sage, will you marry me?”

“Yes, baby, I will!”

Ramion touched her face and ran his fingers across her luscious lips. He looked deep into her eyes and felt himself being carried away in the green sea of her irises, swimming in the love shining at him. “I love you, and I want you to be my wife. I want to share my life with you.” He spoke the words tenderly.

Sage wiped the tears from her face. “I love you too, more than I can say. You make me feel complete. You filled the hole in my heart and the empty space in my soul.”

Ramion pressed his lips against her face—kissing her forehead, her cheeks and her lips. His kisses grew more intense as he ran his hands down her body, stroking her arms, her breasts, her legs.

A volcano of desire erupted inside her. It rumbled and roared and threatened to rip open her heart and spill out the lava of her love. She wanted to contain it, but it had a force of its own. Sage pushed him away gently. “People can see us,” she said between ragged breaths.

“I don’t care,” Ramion said. He slipped a hand inside her blouse. “I don’t care about anything except you.”

Sage moaned, the wave of desire bubbling to the surface. She wanted to move, but she couldn’t resist the wicked heat Ramion was creating with his touch.

“If you want me to stop, I will,” Ramion said in a voice husky with passion. “Who cares what anybody sees? I want you, right now, right here.”

This was the man she’d just promised to marry, and suddenly she felt the way he did. She wanted him at this very moment, at this very spot. “Right here, right now,” she agreed.

Chapter Six

Hung over and bleary-eyed from New Year’s Eve parties, Edwinna opened her condo door, the blast of cold air jolting her awake. She picked up the newspaper laying in front of her door, slammed the door shut and padded down the hall to the kitchen, where the aroma of brewing Kahlúa-flavored coffee filled the air. Edwinna poured herself a cup, stirring in heaping spoonfuls of sugar. The volume on the 13-inch television positioned on the black baker’s rack was low.

She sat down at the kitchen table and casually flipped through the morning edition of the
Atlanta Times
. Beginning with the front page of the Living section, she turned to the second page to read “Peachtree Happenings”, a gossip column about local figures and national celebrities.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the three-sentence paragraph about Ramion Sandidge.

Are wedding bells in the air for Sage Kennedy, Deputy Chief to the newly elected Governor Hudson? Kennedy and attorney Ramion Sandidge were spotted at the airport on their way home from a New Year’s vacation in Cancún. A diamond ring glistened on Kennedy’s left hand.

“Ooh, I hate her. That bitch!” Edwinna exclaimed furiously. She crumpled the newspaper and tossed it in the garbage.

* * * * *

Cameron raised his right hand and repeated the oath of office:

I, Cameron Jamison Hudson, do solemnly swear or affirm that I will faithfully execute the office of the governor of the state of Georgia and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the constitution thereof and the Constitution of the United States.

I do further swear that I am not the holder of any public money due the state, unaccounted for; that I am not the holder of any office of trust under the government of the United States, nor of either of the several states, nor of any foreign states in that I am otherwise qualified to hold said office, according to the constitution and laws of Georgia, and that I will support the Constitution of the United States and of this state.

The small crowd of politicians, family and supporters clapped as Cameron Hudson was sworn in as the eightieth governor of Georgia. A photographer captured Cameron being hugged by his family, the photo to appear on the front cover of the evening newspaper.

* * * * *

Several hours after Cameron was sworn in as governor, Sage and Ava entered the hotel ballroom filled with partygoers dressed in formal attire, gathered to celebrate the inauguration of the new governor.

“How do I look?” Ava asked Sage as they walked past the registration table.

“Beautiful! Gorgeous! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“I’ve never been to a formal ball. It feels weird to be wearing a long evening gown.” The black columnar gown elegantly showcased her lithe figure. “I can’t wear these,” Ava said, slipping off the elbow-length gloves and tucking them inside her purse.

“Suit yourself,” Sage said. They stopped at the table where Cameron Hudson and his family were seated.

“Hi, Jewel,” Sage said to the governor’s eldest daughter, who was a freshman at Spelman College. “Where’s everybody?”

“I don’t know. I went to the bathroom, and they disappeared,” Jewel replied. Rail thin, her bored expression was as flat as her chest and in stark contrast to Ava’s wide-eyed excitement.

“Hi,” Ava said to Jewel. “I love your gown. Oh, this is all so thrilling.”

“Thanks,” Jewel said. “But I hate these affairs. They’re boring.” She stood up. “Excuse me, I’m going to look for my date.”

Sage and Ava sat down at the table. Ava watched the crowd, blistering with excitement to be mingling among Atlanta’s elite.

Black was the color of choice for most of the people attending the governor’s formal dinner ball. Men wore black or grey tuxedos, and women were dressed in strapless, off-the-shoulder and V-necked black dresses and gowns in varying lengths from below the calf to above the knee. There were the occasional rebels—women daring to wear red velvet dresses, slinky purple gowns and turquoise tuxedo suits.

“Look, there’s Edwinna!” Ava said, patting Sage’s arm. “She keeps rolling her eyes at you.”

“Ignore her. Don’t even look her way.”

“She’s just mad that you’re engaged to her man.”

“
My
man,” Sage corrected.

“Are you talking about me?” Ramion interrupted. Standing over Sage, he placed his hands on her shoulders. She tilted her head back, and he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “You ladies look marvelous.” His hands traveled down Sage’s back, provocatively exposed in the halter-strap black gown.

“Thank you, honey,” Sage said.

Cockily, Ava said, “We know we do!”

“No more compliments for you, Miss Thing,” Ramion playfully said. “Sage, you look gorgeous as always. I’m surprised you don’t have your hair up.”

“Not with this scar,” Sage said, self-consciously touching her right shoulder.. Her curly hair hung loosely on her shoulders.

“It’s barely noticeable,” Ramion said, dressed in a black tuxedo. He kissed her neck and said, “You shouldn’t let it bother you. I like it when you wear your hair up.”

“I’ll remember that. I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Sage said, standing. She picked up her velvet evening bag. “I have some work to do.”

“Remember our plans for later,” Ramion said, a gleam in his eyes.

Her eyebrows arching upward, Sage answered with a sliver of a smile, “I haven’t forgotten.”

* * * * *

More than three hundred people attended the governor’s inaugural celebration, participating in an event that would be remembered for many years. Cameron Hudson wasted no time in laying out his political agenda, setting an aggressive tone for his administration with his first speech as governor of Georgia:

To give birth again to the dream, we must tackle some major problems, such as education, housing and crime. Also on my agenda for this year is to change the state flag. The Confederate emblem on the flag represents Georgia’s past. The star-studded Confederate cross was used as a symbol of defiance against court-ordered integration. I believe that many Georgians find this symbol offensive.

We need a flag that is more representative of what Georgia is today, and what Georgia promises to be in the future. A state where all races can work, live and play together. So I will sponsor legislation to make the flag in tune with our state’s motto—Wisdom, Justice and Moderation.

The audience responded with a standing ovation as Cameron Hudson concluded his speech and left the stage. The tone of the evening changed from a sober political dinner to a festive party. Rhythm-and-blues, country and pop singers entertained the melting pot of people who shared the new governor’s dream.

The celebration was ending as Sage was freshening up her makeup in the bathroom mirror, when she heard one of the stall doors open and an unfriendly voice. “Well, look who’s here, the future Mrs. Sandidge.” The words came out slow, slurred and sarcastic.

Sage turned around and saw Edwinna sparkling like a firecracker in a sequined black gown and rhinestone earrings, choker and necklace. It was late, and Sage was tired. She didn’t feel like exchanging unpleasant words with Ramion’s bitter ex-girlfriend, so she ignored her.

“I know you heard me,” Edwinna said, when Sage turned her head back to the mirror. They made eye contact in the mirror—angry eyes stared into wary eyes. Edwinna’s gaze traveled to Sage’s left hand.

“Obviously, I don’t want to talk to you,” Sage said curtly.

“Obviously, I want to talk to you,” Edwinna replied tartly.

Sage picked up her purse from the vanity counter. She moved toward the door.

“I see Ramion gave you a little diamond ring,” Edwinna said. She squeezed her thumb and forefinger together to emphasize “little”.

“I don’t think a two-carat diamond is little.”

Edwinna took a step to get a closer look at the ring. “I would have gone for something much bigger.”

“Maybe that’s why you don’t have the man you still so obviously want,” Sage said, moving toward the door.

“Just because you have him now doesn’t mean you’ll have him tomorrow. You’re not married yet.”

“We will be,” Sage said acidly, and opened the door, releasing a taunting laugh while walking out of the bathroom. Sage heard Edwinna mumble an obscenity as the door closed behind her. She was tempted to go back into the bathroom and slap the other woman, but that wasn’t her style.

* * * * *

It was Friday evening, and the chilly February rain rattled against the windows of Ramion’s spacious and airy great room, with a nine-foot vaulted ceiling, skylights and a green marble fireplace that crackled with firewood. Even with the sectional sofa and matching chair and ottoman, the 42-inch projection-screen television and the 50-gallon aquarium filled with saltwater fish, the room was not filled to capacity. Several law books were piled in the corner of the sofa next to two videotapes.

“What about April?” Ramion asked, sitting on the edge of the dark-green- and white-striped sofa in the middle of his great room. Sage sat on the floor on the opposite side of the forest-green, rectangular-shaped cocktail table. Cartons of Chinese food were on the table, along with an open bottle of Zinfandel wine, its blush contents sparkling in two long-stemmed wineglasses.

“Too soon. That’s not enough time to plan,” Sage said, placing chopsticks between her index and middle fingers. “My, my, my! You are anxious to marry me.”

“You said soon. Is May soon enough?”

“Maybe you think I’ll change my mind,” Sage teased, eating the Szechwan chicken that they had ordered from the China Wok restaurant.

Ramion gave Sage a sideways glance. “I know you won’t,” he said cockily, taking the last bite of the egg roll.

“You never know. I might change my mind on our wedding day. Have you standing in front of everyone, waiting nervously for me to come through the wide double doors and walk down the aisle,” Sage teased, all the while knowing that nothing would prevent her from walking down the aisle to marry the man she loved more and more every day.

“Girl, you know you couldn’t leave me like that.”

“Wouldn’t want to,” Sage admitted.

“What about May?” Ramion asked, while closing up the cartons of Szechwan chicken, pork egg foo yong and shrimp fried rice.

Sage shook her head. “Still too early.”

“June?”

“No.”

“July or August?” Ramion asked.

“August,” Sage said, having already determined that July or August would be the best months.

“We’re making progress,” Ramion said. “Where do you want to go for our honeymoon?”

“What about the Caribbean or Hawaii? I want to go somewhere hot and exotic.”

“How about a cruise?”

“Ummh, sounds like fun.”