“You know cops are people, too. You got your good ones and your bad ones,” Jasmine summarized. “Just like pastors.”
“Yep,” Sharla agreed.
“Now, what are you going to do about this other woman?”
Sharla gasped, “My husband was not seeing that woman.”
“Mmm,” Jasmine groaned, giving Sharla the girl-please eye.
“I’m serious.”
Jasmine was silent, turning on the major thoroughfare that would lead them back to the Carter residence. After hitting a long stretch, she sighed, “Look, now I know I’m not supposed to be gossiping and I know it is not my place to tell another woman that her husband might be lying, but as first ladies, we’ve got to have each other’s backs.”
Sharla put up the time-out signal. “If this is a bunch of he-said-she-said, I don’t want to hear it.”
“No…well, yes it is what someone else said, but it’s someone I trust.”
“Who?” Sharla pecked.
“Montel. My hair dresser. He used to date the other…the woman who was in the car with your husband. Apparently, she’s a real good-lookin’ girl, looks much younger than she is. Montel said she’s been using men to pay her bills for years. Matter of fact, that’s why he broke up with her,” Jasmine advised.
“What’s that got to do with Mark and me?”
“I’m just saying. If Mark did get caught up with her, I don’t want you to do anything drastic. At least not right away. Get some counseling first because evidently this woman is a seasoned home-wrecker. This ain’t her first rodeo. The enemy bombards men of God with temptation, you know?”
Jasmine went off on a tangent about the spirit of Jezebel and Delilah. She re-told the story of David with a slant toward painting Bathsheba as a seductress. Really, she could have made a tape and sold a CD of it at a pastor’s wives conference.
“Why is everybody so quick to believe the worst?” Sharla blurted out.
“I didn’t say I believe the worst,” Jasmine yapped back.
“But you’re sitting here telling me how to reframe the picture of my husband cheating when I don’t even own that picture!”
“You honestly don’t believe he’s cheating?” Jasmine fished.
“No! That woman wasn’t his mistress—she’s Amani’s mother, okay?”
“Oh my gosh!” Jasmine put a hand over her mouth. “Now I see! I knew people were saying he’d been in the wreck with his baby Momma, but I didn’t believe it because I knew that you and Mark had adopted Amani. Girl, I was starting to wonder if the girl was a surrogate mother – if y’all had done a Sarah and Hagar thing.”
Sharla couldn’t take it anymore. She warned calmly, “Jasmine, shut up.”
“Oh, I know you didn’t.” Jasmine made a quick right into a driveway about half a mile from Sharla’s house. “You not gon’ sit in my car and tell me to shut up, not when I’m doin’ you a favor. You can get out right now.”
“Gladly.” Sharla reached for the door’s handle.
“You need to quit,” Jasmine fussed. “You know I ain’t about to put you out over this. I’m not tryin’ to be funny; I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Too late. I’m already hurt. I’m tired, I’m upset, I feel like I’ve been to hell’s waiting room and back,” Sharla admitted.
“I’ve been there, too. The good thing is, you came back.”
Jasmine had a point. Sharla was still there, still madly in love with her husband, still dedicated to her family despite all the chaos. “I’m sorry I told you to shut up.”
“Well, sometimes I probably should shut up,” Jasmine had to agree. She backed out of the stranger’s property and proceeded down the street. “It takes a real friend to tell me when I need to shut my trap. You alright with me, sis.”
Jasmine had been the best choice for a ride home after all. Candace probably would have listened, shared a few thoughts, and then prayed. As wrong as Jasmine was for sharing the latest beauty shop gossip, Sharla did appreciate the fact that she wasn’t trying to make everything all…holy. Well, except for that little mini-sermon.
As she walked into her house, Sharla could only laugh.
That laugh quickly faded when she found Mark sitting on their bed with his veins standing out in livid ridges. “Why in the world did you go to the hospital to see Bria?”
Chapter 25
Her slumped shoulders told Mark she was guilty before her mouth admitted it. “I wanted to see for myself, I guess.”
“See what?” Mark searched for a reasonable response.
Sharla shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted to see if she was going to live, why she was in the car with you. If she looked like Amani.”
“Why would any of that matter?”
“It doesn’t, okay,” she agreed, “that’s why I left before I went into her room. I realized it was stupid and I left. But Bria’s mother saw me before I could get out.”
Well, at least they saw eye-to-eye about the fact that she shouldn’t have been at the hospital.
“How did you know I was at the hospital?” Sharla flipped the table.
Mark had every intention of telling Sharla that he’d gone to the hospital. Later. Alas, the suspicious line darkening the corners of her mouth demanded an immediate answer. “I went there, too.”
Sharla threw her hands in the air. “How you gon’ get mad at me for going? What did you go for?
“Because I’m her pastor. I went to see her the same way I visit every other sick member if I can,” he tried his best to minimize.
“No, no, no.” Sharla wasn’t going down so easily. “You and Rev. Jackson told me you were going for a ride.”
“We were.”
“How did y’all end up at Ben Taub?”
Mark really didn’t have a good explanation. To say ‘it just happened’ wouldn’t suffice, even though it was the truth. He couldn’t think of a good excuse for why he’d done the same thing his wife had done. The whole thing was silly. “I don’t know, Sharla.”
“Now you know exactly how I feel.” She sat down at the foot of the bed. “This whole thing has got me going crazy. Between the TV reports, taking care of you, not resting well…it’s amazing I’ve still got my head on straight.”
Mark scooted toward her and gave her a hug. “I feel you, Mamasita. But everything’s gonna be alright.”
“I got something else to tell you.”
Mark waited for her to spill it.
“My car has been…retained for the investigation until tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Danny Hernandez made a deal for me to leave the car until noon. When it turns up clean, I’ll be eliminated as a suspect.”
It was all news to Mark. “A suspect?”
“Oh. Yeah. I forgot to tell you that.”
Mark looked down his nose at her. “Seriously?”
She gave the baseball “safe” signal with her hands. “I just want you to worry about getting well, that’s all. The sooner we get all this investigation out of the way, the sooner the insurance will go through and life can get back to normal.”
For the first time, Mark realized how exhausted his wife must have been, both mentally and physically. She’d been carrying so much stress already; he couldn’t possibly add the news that Bria’s family was considering a civil suit.
“Don’t worry about me, Sharla.”
“How can I not? Every day that the insurance doesn’t come through is another day without therapy. I want you to start rehab soon so your arm won’t heal all crooked.”
As serious as Sharla’s intent was, her word choice injected humor into the otherwise somber situation. They both collapsed into each other, laughing.
Mark stood and twisted his left arm against his side. “You still gon’ love me if I look like this?” He then added a limp leg and contorted his face.
Sharla fell over on the bed. “You’d better stop before you end up like that for real.”
It felt
good to make his wife laugh.
“That’s not funny,” she giggled.
Instantly Mark thought about Bria. He wondered if she would end up disfigured. Lame. “You’re right, babe. It could have been me.” He sat down next to her again.
“But it wasn’t, thank God.”
“Yeah.” His mind replayed the one part of the accident that still didn’t make sense: the pressing on his chest that kept him stable during the impact. It was in him and on him at the same time.
He rubbed his bare feet against Sharla’s ankle.
“Stop! I don’t want your big, hairy feet on me!”
Amani appeared at their doorway. “Y’all alright in here?”
“Come on in,” Mark invited.
“I heard y’all arguing,” he said. “Is everything okay?”
“We weren’t arguing,” Mark reassured him. “We were just talking. And laughing.”
“Cool.”
“Did you make up your bed yet? And there better not be any food in your room,” Sharla started in on him.
“Dang, baby, it’s summertime. School’s out. Give the boy a break,” Mark stepped into Sharla’s territory.
She gave him the butt-out glance. “Ants and roaches don’t care if school’s out.”
Amani seized the chance to be an advocate for himself. He grabbed Sharla’s brush off the dresser and used it as a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, children, dudes and dudettes gathered here today, I’m here to say that everyone deserves a break now and then, especially teenagers like myself who work hard all year. We go to school for eight hours. We go to extracurricular practice for another hour. Then we come home and do homework for another ten minutes…ahem, ahem…two hours afterward, and—”
“When do moms get their break?” Sharla cut the impromptu speech short.
Amani gave her the hand. “Ma’am, you’re going to have to wait until we have a press conference—”
“Give me that microphone!” She snatched the brush from her son.
“Security!” Amani yelled, beckoning toward the doorway.
Mark doubled over laughing at his wife and son. The boy was hilarious, a regular stand-up comedian. He’d heard a few of Amani’s humorous comments here and there, but now Mark saw that his son could be as witty as he was temperamental. He’d make a great actor. Maybe a sitcom writer or even a savvy politician. He definitely had a charisma about himself that would attract people and bring them together, given the right opportunities. Given the wrong outlet, his gift could be abused.
Sharla wrestled the “microphone” from Amani and attempted to convince the “audience” that she needed a break, too. “I cook, I make sure you all have everything you need, and I support you especially, Amani, in all your extra stuff.”
Amani raised his hand. Sharla acknowledged him with a nod.
“Ma’am if you get your son a car when he turns sixteen, you won’t have to be his taxi cab anymore.”
“Uh, no!” she replied sharply. “He can’t even keep his room clean. How can I trust him with a car?”
“Booo! Hiss!” Amani yelled, giving two thumbs down.
Sharla playfully lunged at Amani, trying to bop him on the head with the brush. He covered his head, calling for security again.
Mark couldn’t remember the last time they’d had that much fun together as a family. If they spent more time together, maybe Sharla would get off his back. Plus, he could make sure Amani learned to use his graces for good, not evil.
Wait a minute. Isn’t that what Sharla has been trying to tell me? Maybe, but the way she said it didn’t sound quite so positive. Sounded more like punishment. If I can have fun spending time with my family, that would make all the difference.
“I’ve got an idea,” Mark announced as Sharla set the brush back in its place. “Let’s go on a family vacation.”
Sharla and Amani looked at Mark like he was under the influence of medication.
“A vacation?” Sharla squeaked. “We can’t go anywhere with you still on so many pills and those pins still in your arm. What kind of excursions could you do?”
She had a point.
“I can’t go on a vacation with y’all?” Amani exaggerated.
The parents stared at their son.
Amani shook his head. “No offense, but I don’t want to be in no hotel room with you two.”
“Ever heard of a suite—with a closing door? You two are acting like we’ve never gone anywhere together.” Mark counted off previous destinations on his fingers. “We’ve done Disneyworld, two cruises, Branson, skiing in Santa Fe.”
“Yeah, but that was back when I didn’t know it wasn’t cool to hang with your parents,” Amani protested. “Let me stick to my youth group retreats—or let me invite a friend.”
“No,” Sharla shot the idea down. “I’m not takin’ no more musty boys with me nowhere. One is enough.”
Amani sniffed his armpits. “Who says I’m musty?”
“You would be if I didn’t stay on you about it,” Sharla busted him.
“I’m hurt.”
Mark’s brain was churning past both Sharla’s and Amani’s objections to a family vacation. Plus, being in June already, prices for flights and hotels would border on extortion.
“Wait a second.” Mark dug his phone out of his pocket and managed to open and search through his email messages. He was getting good at tackling routine tasks with one hand. “How about not a vacation but a short getaway to…drum roll, please…Peasner, Texas!”
“Pee who?” Amani choked.
“Peasner, Texas. My cousin, Son, send me an evite. His mother, we all call her Mama B, is getting married. They’re having her engagement party—” Mark scrolled to the bottom of the message, “—this weekend!”
“You’re not serious,” Sharla chided. “When people send those evites, they don’t really expect you to come. They just want you to send a gift.”
“I’m calling Son right now.”
Amani mouthed to Sharla, Peasner?
With his family watching in horror, waving their hands as though trying to flag down a car, Mark made the call and mashed the button to put the conversation on speaker despite his family’s gyrations. “Hey, Son!”
“Tugga! Boy, how you doin’?”
“I’m good. Got my family right here on speaker. You remember Sharla and ‘Mani?”
“Yeah! Hey Sharla and ‘Mani.”
They singsonged in unison while giving Mark the evil-eye, “Hi. How are you?”
“I can’t complain,” Son said. “Your momma told my momma you were gonna make it after that car accident. I’m glad you’re all right.”
“God is good, that’s all I can say. Look, uh, I got the invitation to Mama B’s engagement party this weekend. Is it too late to RSVP?”
“Naw, you know Mama. She’ll be glad to have you there. But go ahead and give her a call so she can add you to the count.”
“Will do, will do. Look forward to seeing you again, Son.”
“Same here. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Later.”
Mark ended the call as protests gushed from his wife and son. “We can’t go this weekend!”
“Why not?” he asked them both.
“Because it’s too soon! I won’t have time to pack properly,” Sharla fussed. “And I don’t have time to get my hair tightened.”
“And I haven’t even told my friends,” Amani said.
“Please,” Mark dismissed their objections with a wave. “Sharla, we’re going to Peasner. No one there has seen any of your clothes. They’ll be brand new to them. And it’s okay to wear your real hair. Did you know that?”
Sharla gave him a bratty grin.
“And ’Mani, your friends can live without you for one weekend.”
“No, they can’t. I run the videogame tournaments.”
“Boy, for a minute there, I thought you had a full-time job,” Mark laughed as he re-opened the email invitation and sent a call to Mama B.
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He silenced the room once more with the speaker. “Mama B!”
“Who is this?”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “This is Mark, Mama B.”
“Hey, Tugga! So good to hear from you! How’s your wife and your son?”
“Sharla and ‘Mani are right here.”
Again, the reluctant vacationers paid respect by saying hello.
“My goodness, did that deep voice belong to that handsome son of yours?”
Amani grinned.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s him. He’s thirteen now.”
“Won’t be long before he’s a man,” Mama B laughed.
Amani thumped his chest.
Sharla pinched her son’s ear, whispering “Traitor.”
“Mama B, we’re gonna take you up on the invitation to come to your engagement party this weekend. We’ll get in Friday afternoon. What’s the closest hotel?”
“Mark Wayne Carter the third, if you don’t stop teasin’ me about stayin’ in a hotel, I’m gonna reach through this phone and pinch your ear,” she threatened with a giggle. “I got two extra bedrooms. Got plenty room here so long as Amani don’t mind sharing a room with his cousin, Cameron.”
“Now, we don’t want to impose on you—we’re perfectly fine with staying in a hotel.”
“Well, I ain’t,” she insisted. “No family of mine’s gon’ be stayin’ in a hotel when I got two bedrooms to share. I’m not gon’ let you block my blessin’, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll see you Friday.”
Chapter 26
Amani grew as restless as a 5-year-old sitting in the back seat on the way to Peasner. “How far is this place?”
“Two hundred and sixty loooooong miles,” Sharla answered. She’d propped her elbow on the side panel and set her fist against her temple about a hundred miles ago.
Mark ignored their unpleasant comments. Once they got a taste of something or another from Mama B’s oven, they’d thank him later. Growing up, he had spent anywhere from a few weeks to a whole month in Peasner with his cousins Son, Debra Kay, Cassandra, and Otha.
There were always a bunch of kids at Mama B’s in the summer, so many that Mama B would have to sit them all down and explain how they were related to one another. Mark’s grandmother and Mama B’s mother were sisters. Mark and Otha always had a hard time wrapping their minds around the fact that, although they were nearly the same age, they were in two different generations.
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