Authors: Priscilla Poole Rainwater
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“Excuse me sir.” a young nurse smiled at him as she came out of Cassandra’s room with vials.
“She’s sedated, but if you want to go in to say good night, you can.” she said, then left, in a hurry to meet Doctor Bishop.
The doctor had told her earlier it was very important that no knew she was taking blood samples from Doctor Parker’s patient. And she was more than willing to help. Doctor Bishop had really helped her husband after he had been paralyzed in a mining accident. At one point he had had been ready to give up, and she had managed to give him a new outlook on life.
I can’t wait any longer! I need to see her, be close to her.
Granger thought as the nurse left. Quietly, he entered the room. He had been waiting for over twelve hours to see her. Cynne’ and Jocelyn had both told him she wasn’t willing to see him at the moment. Once his eyesight had adjusted to the dim light in the room, he quietly approached the bed. His heart ached as he looked down at her. She was curled up on her right side, hands tucked underneath her chin, with a serene smile on her face. On the bedside table she had placed a framed photo of Regan.
Just give me one more chance, and I promise I’ll take better care of you
.
You look so fragile. God, I was such a fool to think I had stopped loving you. I need you like I need air to
breathe…
he thought. Reaching out with one hand to touch her, he hesitated, then stopped, fearful his touch would awaken her from her peaceful sleep.
Stepping back, he lowered himself in the sickly green chair beside her bed, drinking in the sight of her lovely face.
His wife, his Cassandra.
Smiling to himself, his thoughts wandered back in time to six years earlier, the first time he had ever laid eyes on her:
He was sitting in the conference room in his Pineville office, and he was on cloud nine. He had received word that the zoning for his new resort community had been approved. He himself had made sure it would be approved, by way of several expensive gifts and free trips to Hawaii for city council members, and in turn, they happily gave him what he wanted. He was smiling to himself, thinking, ’Dad always did say everyone has a price.’
The zoning approval had been for a large, mountainous area called Roaring Branch. Actually, it was thousands of acres of undeveloped forest that he purchased at fifty percent below market value. The area was already a draw for hikers, mountain bikers, campers, and for the city boy and girls who fancied themselves weekend hunters. The land had two large ponds with fish, and was heavily populated with deer and wild turkeys. By the end of the year he would be breaking ground, and investors were already tripping over themselves to get a piece of the pie. And all this was only a small part of his grand plan. His long-range goal was to turn Pineville into a resort town, one that would attract wealthy vacationers who wanted a taste of country life. Market research indicated that people paid well to have the illusion of living the simple life, away from the rat race.
He was going over the contractors bidding with his key employees when a group of people
came bustling into the conference room, shouting at the top of their lungs. “Save Roaring Branch!!! Save Roaring Branch!!!” Leading the chant was an African American woman, who at the very head of the group, seemed to be the one in charge. She was dressed in sinfully short jean cut offs, and a lime green halter-top that drew immediate attention to her voluptuous breasts.
Devin Chambers, his vice-president, jumped up, horror stricken, demanding that the protesters leave. “All of you, you’re trespassing on private property, leave, right now!!!” he shouted.
The leader held her hands up, and the group fell silent, mid-chant. “We’re not going anywhere…!” she barked. Pointing her long, French manicured nails in his own direction, she shouted, “….until your fat cat boss over there stops development of Roaring Branch!”
He was merely amused when she glared at him, then nodded stiffly to her group.
In a move they had obviously choreographed, they all sat down on the floor at once, and began wrapping a long logging chain around their bodies, passing the chain from one person to the next, and finally securing it with a padlock to one of the stout conference room table’s legs, which he knew were bolted to the floor.
Still outraged, Devin picked up his phone to call security.
While he himself usually found protesters bothersome and tiring, he was inexplicably charmed and amused at this particular little pest, there was something different about her. He studied her in silence, sitting there on the floor Indian style, showing off her thick dark legs. Her full breasts were straining against the lime green halter-top, and it sported bold lettering that read, ‘Love the Earth.’ Her hair was a mass of long, tight curls that fell a little past her shoulders. The hair gave her a wild and free aura, and he found it curious that he suddenly wanted nothing more than to bury his hands in that coarse mane, just to see how it would feel. He was only dimly aware of Devin’s voice in the background, shouting excitedly into the telephone.
Putting the phone back in its cradle, Devin turned to him and said, “Sir, the police are on the way. The security guards said they managed to sneak in here on a freaking sandwich truck, Roach Coach, or whatever it is they call those things. One of them drove while the others hid in back, like the common criminals they are. Don’t you worry, I’ll sort those security guards out, they’ll all be standing in the unemployment line tomorrow morning, the unreliable fools.”
At that moment the group began the loud chanting again, and Devin had to shout to him in order to be heard over the ruckus.” Sir, there’s more! You’re really not going to like this, but…there’s also a news crew on their way, I guess they were tipped off in advance, by HER!” he shouted, pointing a stubby finger accusingly at the feisty little rabble-rouser. “They’re not even here yet, and they’re already demanding to know how the zoning went through so fast. SHE told them she had proof that the council was….well…was receiving gratuities…”
Hating reporters in general, he cursed to himself. He had had his fill of the leeches when his father had died. All for the sake of ratings, the press had lied outright, spreading the ‘word’ that his father had committed suicide, then later recanted, saying he had been drinking and driving, and had driven his car off a cliff. They also hounded his mother to the point she left the country, until the vultures found someone else’s tragedy to fixate on.
Frowning deeply, his thoughts raced nimbly, trying to figure out a way to diffuse the situation. Even at fifty percent market value, he had still paid a pretty penny for that property, and here was this little protester putting a fly in the ointment. And he had a feeling if the police took her out, that would give her the platform she was hoping for, to be seen as a martyr.
Getting to his feet, he pushed Devin aside and strode purposely to the leader. Squatting down on his haunches, he looked her straight in the eyes, and she held her hands up for silence once more. Doing his best to ignore the way her gaze made his heart flutter, he said, “Young lady, please unchain yourself and leave, right now. If you do that, you have my word that I can arrange to have the police NOT arrest you, or any of your friends here.
No charges whatsoever."
Giving her a genuine smile, he continued. “Besides, you’re too young and pretty to end up in jail with a bunch of hardened criminals, and all over a silly little stunt like this. Get up and run along, now.” he said as he looked into her beautiful eyes. Despite himself, the thought occurred to him that he could easily get lost in those eyes. The woman was seducing him without even trying, and it was catching him completely off guard. HE was used to being the seducer. When her pretty face curled up in a snarl of disgust, the effect on him was as punishing as any physical blow could ever be.
“You big-business pig, don’t talk to me like I’m a child! You’re only three years older than me, I’ve read about you! You’re just a rich boy who doesn’t care he’s raping what little pristine land we have left. It doesn’t even matter to you that you took some of the land from hard working people. You had the town council force those people into selling! Land that has been in their families for generations. But what do you care? Daddy gave you the company, and you certainly don’t know what it’s like to lose something you worked so hard to keep! What you’re doing is wrong! That land is for the community to enjoy! The GOOD town folks don’t want a bunch of strangers from out of town coming in here and spoiling that, it will change our town forever. And another thing, Mr. Pretty-Boy Fat-Cat big shot, my name is Cassandra Ames, but you WILL address me as Ms. Ames. I’m the president of the Wise County chapter of the ‘Save Our Earth’ organization. And my plans are to see to it that you don’t put one single building on that property. Now put on your silk smoking-jacket, stick that in your pipe, light it with a one hundred dollar bill, and smoke it!”
Stunned from the top of his head to the tips of his toes at being addressed in such a manner, he found it incredibly hard to believe that he was still not only charmed by her, but also found himself admiring her courage.
“We’re not leaving until you agree to stop the pending development of Roaring Branch.” she continued, never taking her eyes off his. “Don’t you have ENOUGH money, and aren’t
there other suitable places you can build your resort for your wealthy friends to sit on their butts?” she snapped.
“Cassandra.." he stammered, liking the smooth feel of her name rolling off his tongue.
“I mean, Ms. Ames, surely you have to know a person can never have too much money. I mean, millionaires have gone broke overnight before, anything can happen in this crazy world. Besides, Mortenson. Corporation has a policy and reputation for preserving the land. Actually, much of Roaring Branch will remain untouched. You have my word that when I’m finished with it, it will be a destination people around the world will come to enjoy, to see what nature has to offer.” he finished, smugly certain that his diplomatic effort would pay off. But instead, a loud snort of derision was his reply.
“Preserve the land? Please! Do you expect me to believe that? Don’t piss on me, then tell me it’s raining! You’re bringing people here that will be trampling over the land, killing animals, leaving trash behind, and not respecting nature OR the town folk. No matter what you say, your plan will mean nothing but destruction for the land, the mountains, the animals, and the town.”
Just then everyone’s attention was diverted as the double doors flung open, and Sheriffs’ Deputies stepped inside, led by the Sheriff himself.
Standing to his full height, he approached Sheriff Redford, hoping he could handle the incident quietly, and also avoid the news crew that was now waiting outside. “Sheriff Redford, good to see you again.” he said warmly as he shook the man’s hand. “If you can just get these people to leave, I won’t press charges.”
The “Save Roaring Branch” chanting began again in earnest.
Watching Cassandra leading the loud chant, the Sheriff shook his head miserably, and half shouted, “Lord Lord, that girl is gonna’ be the death of me! She was arrested three weeks ago, protesting the strip mining in Andover. The girl and the rest of those fools chained themselves together and laid in the middle of the road, to stop the dump trucks. Yesterday she got arrested, along with her friends, for chaining themselves to trees where a lumber company was cutting pulpwood. Wouldn’t even listen to the facts, and that was that the company was there only to cut down unhealthy trees. The whole debacle cost that entire crew a day’s pay. I tell you, if I didn’t think the world of her momma, I would toss her butt in county jail for a month, let her live with some common criminals, maybe put an end to this silly protesting. That girl makes them Green Peace folks look like Hummer driving, gas-guzzling embeciles.”
With a long-suffering look, the Sheriff then sighed and approached her. Speaking loudly to be heard over the chanting, his voice boomed, “Cass, you’re going to have to leave now, your momma is going to be very upset if you get arrested again this week. Now Mr. Mortenson has assured me that if you leave peacefully he won’t press any charges. Cass, if you don’t do it yourself, we’ll cut the chains ourselves and toss all of you in jail.”
The statement was rewarded with even louder chants.
Silently, he motioned to his deputies, who took up positions around the rebellious group. Motioning to the maintenance man who had been commandeered with a pair of heavy bolt cutters, he watched as he nervously strode forward and went to work.
When the chains and padlocks had been removed, two burly deputies approached Cassandra, and she offered no resistance as they handcuffed her. When she refused to stand one of them simply lifted her like a sack of potatoes and tossed her over his shoulder. The scene was nearly comical as she resumed her chant as he lugged her off. After ten more minutes of loud chants and the noises of straining, grunting deputies, the room was finally cleared of the unwelcome visitors.
Approaching the Sheriff, he thanked him for his help, and in a move that surprised even himself, asked that no trespassing charges be filed against them. He was then told they would be officially charged with resisting arrest and disturbing the peace, just to teach them a lesson, and that he would take care of the news crew outside.
When the meeting had resumed, he found himself thinking about her. He didn’t know why, but he simply had to see her again. He was still mystified by the attraction. It wasn’t about race, he had bedded woman of all races and sizes. But she was different. She didn’t hang on to his every word, and give him the doe-eyed look most women did. She didn’t act like a delicate flower that needed his protection, and didn’t try use her body to get what she wanted. In the short space of their meeting, he could tell the woman was strong-willed, passionate, and she didn’t buy any of his sugarcoated bullshit. Not only was she all that, and lovely to boot, but the woman had spunk unlike anything he had ever seen.
An hour later he was getting into his limo, and ordered the driver to go to the police station, hoping he could find out from the Sheriff where the little spitfire lived.
A short while later the limo was pulling up to the
Sheriff’s
office, an old one-story stone building that was built in the 1800‘s. As luck would have it, he saw Cassandra come strolling out of the small building just as the car came to a stop. Rolling down the rear widow, he watched as a lanky white man who was with her talked briefly with her, hugged her and kissed her cheek, then turn and walked away. Amazingly, he felt a sharp stab of jealousy. He watched as she put down the backpack she was carrying and opened it. She then pulled out an oversized baseball cap and slipped it on. He couldn’t help but chuckle at what was stenciled on the front: ‘Save Our Planet From Corporate Greed!’
As she picked up the backpack and prepared to leave, he all but leaped out of the back seat of the limo and approached her, wearing what he hoped was both a charming and disarming smile. Stepping in front of her quickly, she had no choice but to stop, and she glared at him in defiant silence. “Hello, Ms. Ames. I’m happy to see they released you.” For a moment he thought she would simply step around him and not answer, found himself afraid of it, actually. He found himself relieved when she finally did answer, although her glare never wavered.
“Yes, they released us. We’ll go to court in a few weeks, they‘ll fine us, and we‘ll have to spend a few weekends picking up trash on the side of the road, or cutting grass at the park.” she shrugged, as if it was nothing.