At any rate, she was not apprehended. The Ethiopian government had no proof of a conspiracy, so they let it go. They had bigger problems to worry about. They did, however, promise to keep an eye out for the young mother and if they ever caught her, she would then be put to death for her crime.
“She’s living in France now,” Eunice said. “She’s getting training to become a nurse and she and her child, whose father is still in Ethiopia and enjoying his freedom, are happy and healthy.”
For the first time since Billy’s death, Sara began to feel as if her life might still have a purpose. That day, sitting among so many accomplished women, she felt as if her spirit had gotten a much-needed boost.
She started asking questions, and the ladies were delighted to answer them.
“Do you have to be a Republican to get involved?” was her first question. She knew the secretary of state’s political affiliation, and she assumed that many of the women who were undoubtedly well-to-do shared their leader’s political views.
“I’ll answer that one,” Phylicia said. “Honey, we don’t care how you vote. Or if you vote at all. Politics don’t enter into it. I can’t stand Eunice’s boss.”
Some of the ladies laughed.
“Well, it’s true,” Phylicia said. “And Eunice knows it. I’ve told her often enough. My point is, we only care that you’re passionate about what we’re doing, and that is saving innocent women and children.”
“Where do I sign up?” Sara asked.
The ladies laughed good-naturedly
“You don’t sign up,” Eunice told her. “You’re branded.” And she went to Sara, turned around, lifted the right corner of her blouse and showed her the tiny, black crossed spears that had been tattooed just above her right buttock. “The spears of Aminatu.”
Sara’s tattoo was on her chest, on the top of her left breast.
Jason thought it had been done on a dare when she was in college.
Sara didn’t join Aminatu’s Daughters the day the secretary of state flashed her. She was advised to wait at least thirty days before deciding. It wasn’t a decision to be made lightly.
She didn’t change her mind, though, and a month and a half from the day Frannie introduced her to the organization she was tattooed in a ceremony in the same penthouse apartment on Amsterdam Avenue. Shortly afterward she was given an assignment.
Today, six years later, she had assisted in the liberation of more than a hundred women and children. And even though her actions could be considered outside of the law, she had no regrets.
“Hey, Jake, how’s it going, my man?”
Jason was in the produce aisle at the supermarket when he heard Erik Sutherland’s voice behind him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the yellow squash in his hand. Jake was what he’d been called by his football pals. Erik had been leader of the pack back then.
In a sense, he still was. He was the richest man in town, and he was running for mayor.
“Hello, Erik,” Jason said as he turned to regard the hefty six-foot-four redhead.
“You cook?” Erik asked. “You don’t have a woman to do that for you?”
“No,” Jason said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone. “Unlike some men who are barely beyond the knuckle-dragging caveman stage, I know how to cook.”
Erik was thirty-six and had the beginnings of jowls and a beer gut. Jason supposed he didn’t get much exercise these days. He was too busy ridding the streets of Glen Ellen of illegal aliens. Not that Glen Ellen had a huge illegal alien problem. It had none, as far as Jason could see. But Erik was from the alarmist school of politics. There were only so many jobs for permanent residents to begin with. Imagine the panic among citizens if they thought illegal aliens were after their source of livelihood?
Erik picked up a peach and bit into it. “I heard you were dating Sara Johnson. She sure turned into a beauty, didn’t she? Talk about your late bloomer. Remember how awkward she used to be?” He still called Sara by her maiden name.
“No, I can’t say that I do,” Jason said. “If she seemed awkward to you it was probably because she was trying so hard to get out of your path. You never passed up the opportunity to make pig noises at her or call her out of her name.”
Erik licked peach juice from his lips. “Yeah, I was a real prick. I admit it. Now, God is getting me back because my own daughter is a little chubby and she’s getting picked on at school.” He finished off the peach and had the nerve to place the pit among the other peaches in the display. “To make it worse, she’s a bookworm and spends more time at that bookstore of Sara’s than she does at home. I can’t blame her. Since her mom divorced me and gave me custody I haven’t been much of a father.”
Jason found himself feeling sorry for him. He supposed even for blockheads like Erik life had a way of forcing them to readjust their way of thinking.
Okay, he gave Erik the benefit of the doubt where his daughter was concerned. But what was up with ridding Glen Ellen of illegal aliens?
“I have to ask,” he said. “Where exactly are all the illegal aliens you’re hoping to run out of town on a rail?”
Erik laughed softly. “Now, there, my friend, is a conundrum. But the fact is I don’t have to produce the illegal aliens. Simply the threat of them will make folks vote for me.”
“So you’re trying to get elected on a platform of fear,” Jason deduced.
“Hey, just because we don’t have the problem now doesn’t mean we won’t have it in the near future. The government’s plan to crack down on illegal aliens hasn’t exactly been foolproof. Once Southern California is full of ’em, they’ll be coming north.”
“You really are an idiot,” Jason said, shaking his head.
Erik laughed louder. “You need to borrow a sense of humor, my friend.”
“And you need to grow a conscience,” Jason countered.
“Oh, that’s right,” Erik said, remembering a salient point about the Bryant family. “You have Haitians working for you. Tell me, are they American citizens?”
“You know damn well they are!”
“Calm down, I only asked a question.” His blue eyes narrowed. “When did you get to be such a tight-ass? You used to be one of the guys.”
“This isn’t high school, and this town is not one of your cliques. You can’t rule everyone simply because you’re the biggest guy or the richest guy around anymore. Grow up, Erik.”
Jason had been filling his handheld basket while he’d been talking to Erik. Finished shopping now, he turned to leave. “Have a nice day.”
Erik picked up another peach and bit into it. “Yeah, you too, old buddy. And be sure to tell that pretty Sara Johnson I said hello.”
Chapter 3
If Sara had had any shame at all where Jason was concerned she might have second-guessed herself to the extent that she would have stayed home that night. But she wasn’t going to pass up the chance to see him again, even if it meant a continuation of the strained conversation they’d had earlier that day.
After work, she went home and showered, changed into a pair of loose-fit jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, put on her boots, brushed her braids, grabbed her jacket and sped over to the