Church Gurlz - Book 1 (Mother's Black Book)

by H.H. Fowler

  Karl used the tips of his fingers to graze the neck of his partner. He broke the feverish silence by clearing his throat and then said evenly, “The hospital is pushing for Sharon’s body to be autopsied.”

  “So what,” the woman spat. “It might be just what we need. I hope you handled the situation with a little bit of wisdom.”

  Karl allowed the silence to stretch too long, which prompted the woman to think that Karl had done something stupid. She slid off his chest and then pierced him with an inquiring gaze. “What did you say to those people?”

  “I told them what I thought was the right thing.”

  “Which was?”

  “That I don’t want Sharon subjected to such a barbaric procedure.”

  The woman’s face was covered in disappointment. “That was such a stupid move.”

  “How was I supposed to respond? I did not expect Sharon’s death to raise any suspicion.”

  “She died in your arms for no obvious reason,” the woman fired back sarcastically. “Of course they are going to ask questions. Common sense should have told you –”

  “Do you know how terrified I am of being found out?” Karl said, interrupting the woman’s rant. “What if they test her for toxic levels? Because that is exactly what would happen if they performed an autopsy. Then what?”

  The woman sat up, clearly not liking what she was hearing. “It doesn’t matter. If you follow my instructions, you won’t have a thing to worry about. Let them run their tests; I guarantee you that those test results will come back as inconclusive.”

  “We live in a technically advanced culture. Nothing is ‘inconclusive’ these days. These guys know their science. They’ll find a way to connect the dots. That’s why I thought it best to have Sharon’s body cremated right away.”

  “No, you should have been playing the role of the ‘cooperative’ husband. I can only imagine the reaction your behavior has caused.”

  “What do you expect me to do at this point? My daughter is torn up over me wanting to cremate her mother. I can’t help looking her in the eyes and feeling responsible –”

  “Who the hell cares what Jasmine wants?” The woman jumped out of the bed and grabbed her designer suit from the floor. “Deal with those doctors! Call them and give them the permission to go ahead with the autopsy. Because if you don’t, you can bet your bottom dollar that the law will take over. Change your attitude before you give someone a reason to investigate. You know how to reach me, if you need me.”

  Karl watched as the woman got dressed and swayed out of the hotel room. He could not believe the power that she possessed over him. It felt as if she had gone to the voodoo priest and gotten a special potion mixed just for him. Because despite Karl’s fears, he could not see himself walking away from the only woman he truly loved. She was an addiction and Karl was afraid that if he did not pull his wits together, the thing that brought him pleasure could be the thing that could destroy him for good. After a moment of deep thought, he placed his cell phone against his ear and asked to be transferred to Doctor Peter Abdul’s extension.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Olive Garden Restaurant – 7:11 p.m.

  Brian found himself heading toward the same spot he had visited several days earlier. This time he was not walking into the situation with his eyes shut. Out of the pity of his heart, he had agreed to meet with Marcia for another date. And quite frankly, Brian did not view their meeting as a date. He simply wanted to settle his curiosity about how a blind woman could get around so easily. Still, there was a part of Brian that did not want to admit that he found Marcia extremely attractive. Not particularly her outer beauty, which was remarkably striking, but more so the warmth he felt exuding from her personality.

  Brian had always thought of himself as a gentleman, so it was hard for him to resist Marcia’s pleas. It was a fact that she had deceived him, but it was also a fact that she had begged for his forgiveness. When he walked into the restaurant Marcia was already sitting with her back turned to him. Again, Brian was amazed at how at peace she seemed; almost as if she had learned the art of contentment.

  “Brian, is that you?”

  How in the world did she sense I was here? Brian thought, but instead he said, “Yes. You have a great way of knowing what is going on around you.”

  Marcia smiled warmly and then tried to turn her head in the direction of Brian’s voice “It is not a mystery, really. My other four senses make up for the one that is out of commission.”

  “It is impressive, nonetheless,” Brian said, as he took a seat opposite Marcia.

  “But seriously,” Marcia said. “I am not as good as you think. I have a wonderful friend who helps me get around –” She paused and gave Brian another warm smile. “You are a very honorable man. Thank you for not holding my lies against me.”

  If Marcia kept smiling the way she did, Brian was afraid that he would begin to feel something for this woman. He did not plan on letting that happen. “It was the Christian thing to do,” he said noncommittally.

  Marcia giggled. “Why do you always hide behind your faith?” she said. “You just need to admit that you are a nice person, regardless of your belief.”

  “Okay, you can stop with the accolades. You don’t even know me as well as you think you do.”

  “Oh, Brian, we have talked for months –”

  “About that,” Brian interrupted, “how are you able to communicate using technical devices? Do they have special computers for blind people?”

  “Oh my God, Brian, you are so funny. Has anyone ever said that to you? I so enjoy talking with you –” Marcia swept her curly bangs behind an ear and stared in Brian’s direction as if she could see him. “But to answer your question, yes, there are ways a blind person can enhance their computer experience.”

  Brian sensed that Marcia wanted him to prompt her to continue, but he just stared at her instead, and took in the symmetry of her face. For a blind girl, she was really attractive.

  “Don’t you want to know how?” Marcia asked.

  Brian cleared his throat and said, “Yes, please continue.”

  “Well, there are several software programs on the market that can simulate the human voice, which can read the computer screen. Some even produce a hardcopy in braille. I use it when I can. Most of the times I simply ask Phoebe to ‘ghostwrite’ my thoughts. It’s easier.”

  Ghostwrite my thoughts? Brian did not like the sound of that. It was an outright invasion of privacy, which meant that Marcia’s friend knew all of her deep, dark secrets, including the few he had shared with Marcia over the Internet. The signs were building and they were as clear as an October sky. Marcia was not the right fit for his life. He was a man who cherished his privacy, and was careful about who he let enter his ‘inner’ sanctum.

  “So,” Brian said, wanting to confirm his fears. “This Phoebe is your wonderful friend you told me about earlier.”

  “Correct. Would you like to meet her? She’s not sitting too far from us.”

  Brian’s eyes began moving all over the restaurant. He stared back at Marcia as if she had lost her mind. “How close is she sitting to us?”

  Marcia giggled. She could sense the uncomfortable shift in Brian’s disposition. “Oh Brian, you must think that I am a freak. Let me ease your discomfit right now. Phoebe is not that kind of person.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “She’s a woman with strong, Christian principles. Voyeurism is a big no no in her book.”

  How do you know for sure? You’re blind, Brian thought, but said aloud, “But you have just confessed that she ghostwrites your thoughts.”

  Marcia tilted her head, using expressions that were beginning to grow on Brian. “Yes, however, I have never revealed the personal things you have shared with me. There were times when our conversation seemed to move toward deep waters. Those are the times I would use the computer software, while Phoebe left the room.”

  “You are too tru
sting,” Brian said. “I can understand how men could have taken advantage of you in the past.”

  The waiter interrupted Marcia’s response when he asked them what they were having for dinner. Brian observed the change in Marcia’s countenance and he could only assume that his last words had awakened some sad experiences in her mind. Yet, within a minute after the waiter left their table, Marcia managed to ditch the melancholy attitude by asking Brian an unusual question.

  “If I had eyes to see your face,” she said guardedly, “would you then say that I’m beautiful?”

  Brian’s heart rate accelerated in search of an answer. There was no doubt that Marcia was an attractive girl, however, he would never admit that she was, for fear of his true feelings being revealed. If he told her that she was beautiful, she would then ask him why he did not want to date her, which was her way of getting back to what she had always assumed. Her blindness had placed a high wall between them.

  Brian tried to buy time by asking another question, “Why is this important for you to know?”

  “It’s okay,” Marcia said. “You don’t have to answer. I’m just surprised you did not once ask me how I had become blind.”

  Brian was placed on the spot and was made to see his insensitivity in bold colors. How could he redeem himself without sounding like a jerk? Should he bring up the fact that Marcia was the one who deceived him, and that technically, it was not his fault that he hadn’t completely gotten over it? Brian knew he could not bring himself to do that. He had told Marcia he’d forgiven her. Certainly, such action was not godly, and would even make him appear more of a jerk.

  “Excuse me,” Brian said quietly, as he stood to his feet.

  Marcia closed her eyes in regret. “I’m sorry … I did not mean to –”

  “It’s nothing. I just need to make a quick dash to the men’s room. I’ll be right back.”

  Brian was half telling the truth. He did want to use the men’s room, but he also wanted to get away to organize his thoughts. Marcia was doing something to his insides he could not explain. She was so pleasant, but was also so naïve – a combination that made Brian want to protect her. In his haste to get to his destination he accidentally bumped into a woman, causing her purse to flip-flop to the carpet. Both of them stooped to pick it up.

  “I was not looking where I was going,” Brian said. “Please accept my apology.”

  “No, it’s okay,” the woman said, swatting her tears as she came up from the floor. It was obvious that she had been crying and that she was trying to hide it. “I had my head down,” she said. “So crazy of me…”

  When their eyes connected, it was as if everything in the room came to a full stop. Brian was blown away by the serendipity of the moment and had it not been for the woman’s familiar smile, he would not have recognized her. The years had certainly treated her well.

  “Jasmine Benton,” he declared. “It has been a long, long time.”

  “Brian?” It was clear that Jasmine was the more uncertain of the two. She attempted to put a little enthusiasm in her voice, “You have certainly grown up. And, you’ve put on some weight.”

  Brian hugged her and then stood back to look at her. “I thought I would never see you in these parts again,” he said. “What brings you back home to Brandon, Florida?”

  “Haven’t you heard?”

  For the first time since running into Jasmine, Brian noticed Jasmine’s swollen eyes. It was then that the answer slapped Brian upside the head. He had overheard his father telling Doreen about Sharon’s death. He could not understand why he was being so insensitive that night.

  “I am so sorry,” he said warmly. “Please accept my condolence on the passing of your mother. I was so surprised to see you, I did not remember…”

  “You don’t have to explain. Thanks, though, I appreciate it.”

  Brian shot out the next question that came to his mind. “Should you even be out at this time, considering what you are facing?”

  “It feels as if I’m going crazy in that house, thinking about my mother,” Jasmine confessed. “I had to get out for some fresh air.”

  “Well,” Brian looked behind his shoulder and peeked at Marcia. “You’re welcome to sit with me, that is, if you don’t mind sharing a table with another woman.”

  “That is so kind of you, Brian,” Jasmine said. “But three is a crowd. I will be okay. I’ll get something to eat and then head back home.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Thanks again for the offer.” Jasmine began to back away. “Nice running into you – sorry that it had to be under these circumstances.”

  Brian watched Jasmine walk away, completely overwhelmed by her transformation. The Jasmine he knew from twelve years ago had morphed into a striking beauty. Not even the sadness of her eyes could diminish such perfection. Brian retook his seat in front of Marcia, but he could not stop looking at the spot where Jasmine had just left. Wynton, you would never believe who’s in town…

  “…how was the bathroom break,” Marcia was saying.

  “Huh?”

  “You said you were going to the men’s room.”

  “I did and now I am back,” Brian said. “Where did we leave off?”

  The conversation did not last too long after that. That brief meeting with Jasmine had shot his mind out of focus. He let Marcia down easy, and gently explained to her the reason he had to leave. It was hogwash, but it seemed as if Marcia believed him. She could not read his expressions anyway, so it would be a challenge for her to discern the truth. When Brian got to his car, he repented and asked the Lord to forgive him for the lies he had just told.

  He had not anticipated the turn of events tonight, still, he should not use that as an excuse to toss Marcia beneath the bus. Be that as it may, Karl’s job offer was beginning to look extremely appealing.

  “Well, Karl,” Brian mumbled quietly. “It looks as if you have a new member on board.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brandon View Baptist Church – 8:43 p.m.

  Paul had never been plagued with thoughts of suicide in his life, but the way Doreen had been acting for most of their marriage made the idea quite tempting. He’d lounged for hours in his swivel chair – working his mind into a stupor over the more subtle ways to end his life. A bullet through the mouth was not his style, and he was too much of a coward to wrap a noose around his neck. The mental image was completely distressing. He had a prevailing impression – though he wondered how a man in his position was going to obtain it – that the mixture of alcohol and pills would provide a quiet passage into the afterlife.

  However, Paul’s theological experiences had taught him better. Suicide was not God’s way to bring peace to a man’s soul. He had even preached to his congregation that suicidal thoughts always surfaced from the demonic realm, which was designed to swallow up their God-given destinies. But Paul would be deceiving himself if he told the world that he was happy about his future. He was badly broken on the inside – mainly because his efforts were taken for granted by an obnoxious wife and two sons who did not quite understand the role of succession. Doreen was a brat from hell, and he could not blame her for every stripe of disappointment, but he held her accountable for his restless spirit. She was far from the wife he had married thirty years ago.

  Paul struggled to understand at what point he and Doreen had gotten off course. How had they lost the edge in their marriage? She used to spoil him with sweet words, and end their nights with long, soft kisses. Now, all he got was a rebuke to his manhood and a look of disdain. Granted, he had put on a few pounds over the years and had not retained his slim, tall frame, but at least he had stuck with her and provided her the security a husband should. She always compared him to Karl, which Paul thought was cold and utterly insufferable. He was not Karl and he would never be Karl. Why couldn’t his wife accept him for who he was, instead of treating him as if he were a piece of rotten meat?

  The comparison to Karl had
not just started, but went all the way back to when they were in their twenties; Ivy League brats who wasted money like the average American who wasted food every day. It had always been the four of them – himself, along with Doreen, Karl, and Sharon – an inseparable bunch of young flames. They threw expensive parties and dined in the best restaurants around the world – all at the expense of their parents.

  Both Paul and Karl’s fathers had been mid-level businessmen, having influence in the oil and real estate industries. And being men of the same mind, Paul and Karl followed in their fathers’ footsteps. In the late seventies, Paul met Karl at a job fair. They were helping their fathers man the booths, giving out information to college students. That initial meeting had produced over three decades of friendship between the men.

  Paul and Doreen had already been engaged and were planning their summer wedding. Karl and Sharon had just started dating. And although Paul was older than Karl by five years, he fit right in with their taste for the wilder side of life. Paul could remember the first time he introduced Doreen to Karl, and he had been stunned by her response.

  “Karl, this is the elegant Miss Dandridge that I have been going on about…”

  With unspoken desire, Karl bathed Doreen with his eyes. When he grinned, it revealed that mischievous side of him. “Paul, I see you love your women with a little dash of chocolate. You know what they say about black women wanting to experience the ‘other’ side – they can’t get enough of you white suckers.”