Authors: Victoria Christopher Murray
N
epotism was hard at work.
Jasmine hadn’t spent a full day at Kincaid Enterprises in a week, but Malik hadn’t seemed to notice.
“Take all the time you need,” Malik had said at the beginning of the week when she told him what she was thinking. “I just want you to do the right thing.” He’d squeezed her hand and told her he’d be there for her.
Since Sunday, thoughts had ping-ponged through her mind; she didn’t know which way to go. The ringing telephone grabbed her from her thoughts.
“Jasmine, this is Reverend Bush,” he said after she’d said hello.
The shock of his voice made her drop the budget she was reviewing. He’d never called her at work; he’d never called her at all. Her heart pounded with the knowledge that this was the moment. Her father-in-law was about to do what Mae Frances’s father-in-law had done—announce that the gig was up.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“We missed you in church on Sunday. Hosea said you weren’t well.”
“I’m better now.”
“Good. You know that’s…” he paused, letting silence sit before he spoke, “my grandchild you’re carrying.”
Jasmine pressed the phone closer to her ear. Tried to hear the words the reverend didn’t say.
“I’m glad you’re doing better. Take care and I’ll see you on Sunday. And Jasmine,” he stopped again. “I was telling a young woman the other day that sometimes we get ourselves into situations where we don’t see a way out. But God always gives us a way. You just have to listen and be obedient.”
“Good-bye,” she said, because she didn’t have the strength to hold on to the phone any longer. Her heart slammed against her chest. A matter of time was all that separated her lie and the truth.
Tears burned her eyes again, and she wondered how many of those she had left. Every time she tried to imagine the talk—what she would say, what Hosea would say, what she would do, what Hosea would do—she couldn’t fathom it. It seemed impossible that she was even thinking about telling her husband. But Mae Frances’s story and now Reverend Bush were leaving her no choice.
Tina was already at lunch when Jasmine grabbed her purse and left. Inside the cab, it took minutes before she conjured up the nerve to dial the number.
“Talk to me.”
“Hey, sweetie. I was calling to find out what time you’ll be home.”
“It’s like that, huh?” Hosea chuckled. “You can’t wait to have your hands all over me. So, what do you have in mind for tonight?”
“I want to talk.”
She could hear his frown. “Talk? That’s not what I had in mind.”
“I know. But I really need to talk to you.”
“Are you all right? Is it about the baby?”
She swallowed. “I’m fine and the baby’s fine.”
“Okay, I should be home by six.”
“Good, and Hosea—,” she swallowed again, “I love you. I really do.”
“I know that, darlin’. And I love you.”
Her lips trembled as she clicked End. That’s what she was counting on—love that would keep them together.
As the cab edged up Avenue of the Americas, Jasmine clicked her phone again.
“Hey,” Serena answered. “What’s up, Big Sis?”
“I need a favor,” Jasmine said. “And I need you to do it without asking questions.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I need you to pray for me.”
“What’s going on?”
“I said no questions.”
“I don’t care. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“I haven’t spoken to you in weeks and now you’re calling for prayer? What’s going on?”
“Just trust me. Just pray.”
“Is it the baby? Hosea?”
Jasmine sighed. “No.”
After a pause, Serena said, “Okay, just tell me that neither you nor the baby are in physical danger.”
“We’re not.”
“Okay, but let’s pray right now.” She didn’t wait for Jasmine to respond. “Father, we come to you with praise and thanksgiving, even though our hearts are heavy. Father, we pray that you will reach down and give us wisdom and guidance. You said, Lord, that all we had to do was call to you and you would answer and tell us the things we do not know. So please, order our steps, Lord, so that we can make the right decisions. And Lord, we pray for your peace that surpasses all of our understanding. We ask these blessings in your son Jesus’ name. Amen and amen.”
“Thank you,” she whispered and then she clicked off the phone before Serena could ask another question. “Amen and amen,” she repeated as the cab driver slowed in front of her building. The only sermon Jasmine ever remembered was one she heard when she attended church with her best friend in Los Angeles. The pastor had preached for an hour about the meaning of “Amen.”
“Amen means ‘so be it,’” Pastor Ford had said. “Amen is the seal to your prayers.”
Jasmine handed a ten-dollar bill to the driver and didn’t wait for change.
So be it,
she repeated as she stepped into the building and then rode the elevator up. As she imagined the talk with her husband, she placed her hand on her stomach. “So be it,” she whispered right before she stepped into the apartment. “So be it” were her last words as she made her decision to do it.
The living room was
still bright with the day’s light, but lavender-scented candles—Hosea’s favorite—flickered throughout. Inside the kitchen, the aroma of curried chicken—Hosea’s favorite—wafted from the stove top into the dining room. Lastly, the CD
I Prayed for You
—Hosea’s favorite—whispered in the background.
From the center of the room, Jasmine surveyed her creation. It was the perfect place to deliver this devastating news.
She glanced at the clock—a bit after six. She paced, and her eyes focused on the Bible resting on the end table. Lowering herself onto the couch, she lifted the book, but when she opened the pages, she didn’t know where to turn.
Her arms folded around the Bible. “Okay, God. I guess this proves I’m not a good Christian. But I’ve tried; I go to church, I gave up…” She paused and thought about the other promises she made to God. “Okay, I know I gave up lying and not sleeping with married men, but I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t go after Brian, and I hate that I lied about this baby, but I didn’t know what else to do.” She sighed. “You know I’ve tried because you gave me Hosea. He is everything I’ve searched for in a man, God, and I thank you for him. I probably haven’t thanked you before, but I always hear Christians say that you know our hearts. So, you know mine, don’t you?” She took a breath. “God, I messed up. But I never meant to hurt Hosea and I don’t want to hurt him now. So please, give me the words to say. And God, give Hosea the heart to hear. Let him know that what happened has nothing to do with our marriage. Please, God, make this situation build us up, not break us down.” She paused again. “If you do this for me, God, I promise to go back to all the promises I made to you before. I won’t miss church, and I will stay away from all men. And I will never lie again.” She hesitated. “Except for this one last time because Hosea has to believe that I was with Brian only once. So please forgive me and just be with me as I tell—” The sound of the key in the lock stopped her words. She returned the Bible to the table and stood up.
“Hey, sweetie.” Even though she wanted to greet him with a hug, her trembling legs held her in place.
“Hey,” he said, sounding weary.
Jasmine frowned as Hosea slipped off his jacket and tossed it over the couch, before he kissed her. Then he plopped onto the sofa.
“What’s wrong?” she said, lowering herself next to him.
He shook his head. “It’s been a tough day.” He leaned back against the couch, closed his eyes, and then pulled Jasmine close to him. “I spent the afternoon talking about cheaters.”
“What?”
“Triage wants to do a show about men and women who cheat. He says it’s a popular topic and one that needs to be talked about in church. But I’m telling you, I don’t want to do it.”
It took a moment for Jasmine to speak. “So…so, why are you doing it? You’re the executive producer.”
“And so is Triage; he thinks it will be a ratings bonanza. He says everybody wants to hear about someone cheating.” Hosea shook his head. “Talking about it all afternoon took everything out of me. You should have heard—”
Jasmine couldn’t hear another word. A show about cheaters? Why did that happen today?
Then it hit her. This was God’s intervention.
“Anyway,” Hosea said pulling her into his arms. “How was your day?”
“Fine,” was all she could say.
He sat up straight. “Darlin’, I’m sorry. You wanted to talk, and I’ve been going on and on about that crazy show. I should have walked in here, kept my mouth shut, and listened to you.”
That thought made Jasmine feel faint. If that had happened, it would have been an all-for-nothing confession.
“Hey,” Hosea said, taking notice of the room. “Candles, music.” He grinned. “This must really be big. Talk to me.”
“I…I think it’s time for us to make some decisions.” She paused. “We need to decide…when we’re going to move. We have to start looking for something.”
He sighed. “I know. It’s just that I’ve been so busy with the show; now, I’m thinking maybe we should wait until the baby’s born. I don’t want you under any pressure or stress. Would you mind if we waited?”
“Not at all. We can set up the guest room for the baby.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He kissed her stomach and then placed his hand there. “You know, today I discovered how blessed we are. You too, little one,” he spoke to where his hand rested. “It seems that it’s difficult to be happy in relationships these days. But you know what people say, what God has for you, He has for you. And I’m so glad that He had the two of you for me.”
Jasmine held him tighter. “Me too, sweetie.”
“Something sure smells good.”
“Well, dinner’s ready.” She tried to push herself up from the couch, but he pulled her back down and kissed her as if he would love her forever.
Inside his embrace, she knew that this was a sign from God. She wasn’t supposed to say a word to Hosea. Her lie would have to be the truth forever.
T
he weeks crawled forward
and Jasmine basked in the bliss of living in the center of Hosea Bush’s world. She came to see herself through her husband’s eyes and she loved that she was going to be the mother of his child.
Thoughts of Brian returning to claim what was his passed. She was sure he’d never suspect, and even if he did, he’d never want this baby. So her heart and mind came to believe that the child in her womb belonged to the man she loved. And she adored Hosea’s baby.
Still her primary focus was her husband. During the week, she spent her days making sure that Rio continued to thrive. But nighttime belonged to her husband. Every night, Hosea came home to the aromas of his favorite dishes and many new ones that soon became favored. Jasmine focused on making her condo his castle, from the china they ate on each night, to the sateen sheets that covered their bed, to the fresh Egyptian towels that waited for him each morning—her husband was her king.
“I don’t know how you do this, darlin’,” he said one night after he sat on the couch, sated from the barbecued salmon she’d prepared. “You work all day and then take care of me all night.”
“And nighttime is the only time that really matters to me,” she told him.
The love she gave was reciprocated. Not a moment passed when she didn’t feel the depth of Hosea’s adoration. From his late-night jaunts to satisfy her midnight cravings for pickles, peanut butter, and butter pecan ice cream, to the way he massaged her feet nightly, and all the in-between affection that he showered on her—she never doubted his love.
Life at home was a wonder, but Jasmine also enjoyed the celebrity of Hosea’s world. At least once a week, they attended a museum benefit, or a charity fund-raiser, or some celebrity bash, mingling sometimes with the rich, most times with the famous of New York City. And at all times, Hosea proudly held her arm, introduced her as his inspiration, his wife, never told, only showed the world that he loved her.
But there were still times when her secret stalked her and snatched away the magical moments that had become her life. Mostly, the stalker crept through her mind on Sundays as she sat in the front pew of City of Lights. As Reverend Bush preached, and the congregation “Hallelujahed” and “Amened” themselves into a frenzy, she’d watch her charismatic father-in-law and know that he was the only one who could crash her world.
Somehow, she had to find the key that would forever lock away the reverend’s doubts. But how could she persuade him that she was no longer the woman who had strutted down the church aisle in a yellow suede mini skirt?
Two days before Thanksgiving, the answer came to her. In her, Reverend Bush saw nothing but duplicity, the opposite of what he valued most: honesty and integrity. She had to become what he respected.
The moment she realized this, she picked up the telephone. Reverend Bush answered his cell, and they exchanged greetings before Jasmine shot straight to her purpose. “Reverend Bush, I’m sure you’re very busy,” she said. “But I’m hoping you’ll be able to squeeze me into your schedule today, for just fifteen minutes or so.”
She wasn’t surprised at how quickly he said, “I’m on my way to the church now, Jasmine. Is this a good time?”
They agreed to meet in thirty minutes. Twenty-five minutes later, Jasmine stepped into his office.
He stood behind his desk as if she were one of his parishioners stopping by for his counsel. “Good to see you, Jasmine.”
She laid her coat across her lap, and with a deep breath said, “Reverend, I’ve said this so many times I’m sure you’re tired of hearing it. But I love your son.”
He looked at her as if he wanted to ask why she was wasting his time with this nonsense, but he motioned for her to continue.
“It’s because I love him that I’ve decided there’s something I have to do.” She paused. “I haven’t been completely honest with Hosea and I want to be.”
He smirked, as if he always knew she had secrets. “Well, Jasmine, if there is something you need to talk to Hosea about, I don’t know why you’re here.”
“Because what I have to tell my husband concerns you.”
His smirk twisted into a frown.
“Reverend Bush, I’m going to tell Hosea about what happened when I first came to City of Lights.”
His eyes thinned to slits. “Jasmine, if this is a threat—”
She held up her hand. “No, Reverend Bush. It’s not. I know what I said to you a few months ago and I so regret that.” She took a dramatic breath. “I’m going to tell Hosea the complete truth. How I pursued you. How you tried to dissuade me. And I’m going to tell him that I threatened you.”
The reverend peered at his daughter-in-law for a long moment. “Why now, Jasmine?”
She sighed. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love Hosea,” she said meaning every syllable. “But I don’t think we can build a solid marriage if I’m holding this secret.”
“That’s true. Secrets will always haunt and destroy.”
Jasmine nodded. Thought about the real secret. Pushed that thought aside. “I’m only here because I wanted you to know. I didn’t want you to be surprised, in case Hosea says anything. Didn’t want you to think I was up to something, like you always seem to think.”
A few beats and then, “To be honest, Jasmine, I’ve never trusted you.”
“I know.”
“But I pushed my doubts aside when I realized Hosea loved you.”
“Thank you for that.”
“But it all came back when Malik told me you’d been married before.”
Jasmine didn’t move a muscle.
“But,” he continued, “when I asked Malik again, he explained that he’d left Los Angeles and lost touch with your family. He said he’d heard you were serious about someone and thought you’d married, but that you two had never discussed it. He apologized for getting it wrong and causing confusion.”
The first thing she was going to do when she left the church was find Malik and promise to name this baby after him.
The reverend continued, “So, I have to admit. My doubts have faded.”
Her lips slipped into a slight smile. “I’m glad because what Hosea and I have is real.”
He peered at her so long that she began to shift in her seat. “I’m beginning to see that.”
“And I would do anything for your son.”
“Something inside of me has known that, Jasmine.” But there were still shadows of doubt in his tone. He said, “I guess this could be a new beginning for us.”
“That is all I’ve wanted since I started seeing Hosea,” she said honestly. She lowered her eyes. “There is one last thing I hope you’ll do for me.” She looked directly at him. “I hope you’ll forgive me, Reverend Bush. What I did—”
He held up his hand. “Enough said.” He studied her a bit more. “I’m glad you came here, Jasmine.”
She stood and before she could move, Reverend Bush came from around his desk and helped her into her coat. When she faced him, they hesitated before they embraced.
“This little one is beginning to get in the way, isn’t he?” Reverend Bush said.
She laughed. “You sound like your son, claiming a boy. I hope neither of you will be disappointed if we have a girl.”
“I just want a healthy grandchild that will grow up to be happy and love God with all of his—or her—heart.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Reverend Bush.”
Before she stepped outside, he said, “My son is right. We’re going to have to work on that name thing. I don’t want my grandson asking me why his mother calls me Reverend Bush.”
“I’ll work on it.”
Minutes later, Jasmine was leaning back in a cab, coasting downtown, and savoring this sweet victory. She never thought it would be this easy.
This would end here—she had no intention of saying anything to Hosea and she was sure Reverend Bush would never mention a word to his son. There was no need to blur the future with past mistakes.
Now both Bush men were on her side. She rubbed her stomach as the car sped down Central Park West. In a way, she too hoped for a boy. That could be the ultimate key to the Bush men’s hearts.
From the cab, Jasmine
peered into the building.
“Do you need any help, lady?” the driver asked.
“No.” Jasmine balanced the basket and motioned toward Henrikas. When he rushed to her, she said, “Is Mae Frances in her apartment?”
“Yes, Mrs. Bush, I think so.”
“Good,” she said handing him the basket. Give me enough time to get to my apartment and then do exactly what I told you.”
Jasmine wasn’t sure how long she’d have to wait, but fifteen minutes after she’d entered her apartment, the banging began.
She waited a moment before she swung open the door. “Mae Frances,” Jasmine said as if she were surprised.
Her neighbor stood, stiff and stern, holding an oversized basket with a turkey so large, it hid most of Mae Frances’s face.
Jasmine said, “Oh, my goodness. Did you bring that for me?”
Even behind the turkey’s legs, Jasmine could see Mae Frances’s scowl. “Jasmine Larson, did you send this?”
Jasmine frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“This basket. Henrikas Babrauckas called and said that a friend left it for me.”
“Well, I’m certainly your friend, but you can’t blame this one on me.” Jasmine tilted her head. “You have other friends, don’t you? What about…Dr. Edmonds?”
Her scowl softened; she almost smiled. Took a step back. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t doing your charity thing again.”
“Nope, I know you don’t need my help.” When her neighbor turned away, Jasmine sang, “If I don’t see you, have a great Thanksgiving.”
Mae Frances grunted her thank you and then closed her door.
Jasmine grinned. Her neighbor thought she was the only one with tricks, but she didn’t know anyone who could out trick her.