With a softer voice, she said, “Make sure you take care of the good reverend, too.” A beat. “I’ll be praying.”
Jasmine hung up, and with a sigh she pushed herself off the bed. Even though all she wanted to do was ease underneath the covers and then dream that last night never happened, she had to go back to the hospital. There wasn’t much she could do for her father-in-law, but her husband was waiting.
And she would do whatever she could to take care of him.
FOUR
JASMINE TIPTOED INTO THE ROOM and stood behind Hosea, still in the same place where she’d left him late last night. Hosea’s chair was pulled close to the edge of the hospital bed, his hands perched under his chin as if he were saying a perpetual prayer.
She’d wondered if he’d moved at all through the night. He probably hadn’t had a moment of sleep—just like her. It had been hard to close her eyes as she’d lain in their bed worried about her husband and his father. She would have never left the hospital if Hosea hadn’t insisted that one of them needed to be home with Jacqueline.
Gently, she put her hand on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” he said.
She whispered, “How is he?”
“The same.” His tone was filled with more hope than his words.
Jasmine dropped her bag to the floor, stepped between two monitors, and then kissed her father-in-law’s forehead. Staring down at Reverend Bush, she said, “He looks good,” because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
But the way Hosea’s eyes moved up, then back down, told her that he knew she was lying.
“I brought you some things.” She pointed to the bag. “Your toothbrush, a fresh shirt, some other stuff.”
He nodded.
“But I wish you’d go home, Hosea. Just for a little while.”
He was already shaking his head.
She continued anyway, “You’ve been here almost two days. I’ll stay until you come back.”
“I can’t leave him,” he said, his tone full of tears.
She wanted to cry, too, but she was working hard to stay strong. “You’re not helping him, though. Not—”
A knock on the door stopped the rest of her words.
“Can I come in?” Brother Hill asked.
Hosea nodded, and as his godfather moved toward the bed, Jasmine edged back against the wall. She watched as the men stood side by side and whispered together.
Brother Hill took one of Reverend Bush’s hands into his. Hosea bowed his head, and after a minute of silent prayer, Brother Hill said, “Let’s go outside. We need to talk.” In the hallway, he faced Hosea and Jasmine. “I hate to bother you with this, but Pastor Wyatt has called an emergency executive board meeting for tonight.”
“For what?” Jasmine and Hosea said at the same time.
“He wants to replace your father.”
“What?” Again the couple spoke together.
“Wyatt feels the church would be vulnerable to confusion without leadership.”
“What is he talking about? It hasn’t even been two days. My father could wake up in the next minute, the next hour, tomorrow.” He paused. “Whenever…Pops will wake up soon.”
Brother Hill hesitated before he said, “I know, but even when he does, he’s not going to be able to step right back into his duties.”
Hosea shook his head as if that was too much to hear. “Still…what’s the rush? Why is Wyatt pushing this?”
“Well, you know the talk on him—he’s ambitious. And so is his wife.”
Jasmine folded her arms. “So he’s trying to steal my father-in-law’s church?” She fought to hold back her rage; she couldn’t believe that man would take advantage of this situation that way.
Hosea said, “I can’t even think about this right now. Let Wyatt do what he has to do. I’ll take care of my father.” He turned back toward the hospital room.
“Hosea, wait.” Brother Hill pulled an envelope from his jacket. “This is a notarized letter from your father, and you can read it later, but basically it says that if anything ever happened, he wanted you to take his place. He wanted you to be the senior pastor.”
“What?” Jasmine said. But the way her husband stood let her know that he wasn’t as surprised as she was.
Hosea said, “Pops talked about this, but I didn’t think he was serious.”
“Why not?” Brother Hill asked. “It makes sense that your father would want you standing at the pulpit.”
Hosea stared at the sealed envelope.
Brother Hill said, “Look, I agree that this doesn’t have to be done now, but the fact is, Wyatt called this meeting, and as the associate pastor, he can do that. However, if there’s going to be an interim pastor at City of Lights”—he put his hand on Hosea’s shoulder—“it has to be you.”
“Who else knows about this?” Hosea asked, holding up the envelope.
Brother Hill said, “I believe I’m the only one.”
With a deep breath, Hosea said, “I need some time.”
“You don’t have that.”
“I need to think about this, need time to talk to Jasmine…”
Brother Hill frowned. “Talk to Jasmine?”
Jasmine’s eyebrows shot up. But before she could protest, Hosea said, “Yes, I’m going to talk this over with my wife.” He looked Brother Hill straight in his eyes.
“I don’t think—”
“You don’t need to think, Daniel.” His tone was sharp, like his stare.
It was the first time Jasmine had ever heard Hosea call his godfather by his first name.
When Brother Hill leaned back a bit, Hosea softened. “I’m sorry; it’s just that—”
“I understand.”
“Look, no matter what I decide, I’ll be at the board meeting.”
Brother Hill nodded. “He called it for six.” A pause. “Just remember, this is what your father wants.” With a nod to Jasmine, he left them alone.
They watched him amble down the hall, the weight of this tragedy as heavy on him as it was on them.
FIVE
JASMINE STARED OUT THE WINDOW, taking in the Schomburg Center across Lenox Avenue. Even through the thick-paned windows, four floors up, she could hear the harmony that was Harlem below: horns honking, sirens blaring, the melodies of calypso, reggae, hip-hop, and old-school tunes blending together.
She hadn’t done much more than stand at this window since Brother Hill had left an hour ago. Over and over she’d read Reverend Bush’s instructions: if he was ever incapacitated…or worse…his wish was for his son to stand in his stead.
Jasmine sighed deeply. That letter meant one thing: she would be the first lady of City of Lights at Riverside Church!
She trembled with excitement.
“Darlin’?”
She was so far away in her new world that she hadn’t heard Hosea return. “I thought you were going for a walk.”
He was looking at his father when he said, “I didn’t want to stay away too long.”
“Wanna talk?”
She followed him into the hallway, where they sat in two chairs across from the nurses’ station.
“So what are you thinking?” Jasmine asked, trying not to seem anxious.
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “It’s not like I’ve ever led a church before.”
“What are you talking about? What about Crystal Lake Cathedral?”
“I was on staff there and led a couple of ministries, but I never led the church. And even though Crystal was one of the largest churches in Chicago, it’s still only half the size of City of Lights. There’re eight thousand members here.”
Eight thousand? She knew City of Lights was huge, but she never thought about the size of the congregation. She had to press her knees together to stop the shaking. She was going to be the first lady of an eight-thousand-member church!
Hosea sighed. “I want to honor Pops’s request, but…”
“What?”
“I can’t imagine it.” He faced her and smiled a little. “And it’s not like I can really see you being a first lady.”
He chuckled, but she didn’t.
He said, “I mean, are you really going to spend your time visiting the sick and shut-in? Or praying with a grieving widow?”
She didn’t know why he was smiling; she didn’t see anything funny. How could he not imagine her doing those things? The way she saw it, she was stepping into her destiny.
But all she said was, “Your father would never have written that letter if he didn’t want it this way.”
“I know.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. Staring at the door that led to his father’s room, he said, “Five seven.”
Jasmine looked up. Saw the numbers on the wall.
Hosea said, “God’s numbers. His grace and the number of completion.” Sad seconds of silence sat between them. Until Hosea said, “I’m not ready to let my father go.”
“Oh, babe,” she said, putting her arms around his shoulders. “That’s not what you’re doing. You’re keeping things in order until he gets better.”
Slowly, he nodded, like he agreed. But when he faced her, she could see that he didn’t. In his eyes, she saw her opportunity of being the first lady slipping away.
“This is what your father wants,” she pushed gently.
There was more conviction in his nod this time. “You’re right.”
She hugged him, whispered in his ear, “You’re doing the right thing.” When she pulled back, she glanced at her watch. “It’s almost three. We’ve got to get going.”
“The meeting isn’t until six.”
“Yeah, but we’ve got to go home and get ready.”
When he frowned, she added quickly, “I mean, don’t you want to take a shower? Maybe even rest a little.”
“I’m not leaving Pops until I have to.”
“It’ll give you a little time to see Jacquie, and you don’t have to worry about your dad. There’s an entire staff watching out. Nothing’s going to happen.”
He shook his head. “I can’t—”
“Hey, Hosea.” Jasmine heard the squeaky voice before she saw Ivy. The woman leaned over to hug him. “How’s your father?”
As Hosea filled Ivy in, Jasmine frowned. Ivy hadn’t said a single hello to her. Looked like she’d been initiated into the band of bandits. That’s okay, Jasmine thought. By tonight, she would be the first lady, and everyone was going to have to step to her with some serious respect from now on.
“So you haven’t been home?” Ivy’s eyebrows rose almost to the top of her forehead.
Before Hosea could answer, Jasmine said, “But we were getting ready to leave.”
“Oh, Jasmine,” Ivy said, just noticing her. “I’m so rude.” She giggled.
Now Jasmine ignored her; she spoke to Hosea. “You’ve got to go home and at least take a nap before we go to the church.”
Ivy said to Hosea, “Go. I’ll stay with your father.”
“Are you sure? I don’t know how late it’ll be when I get back.”
When Ivy caressed Hosea’s hand, Jasmine’s squeezed her fingers into fists.
Ivy said, “It doesn’t matter. No matter how late, I’ll be here waiting for you.”
Jasmine hadn’t been sure if she liked Ivy before, but she definitely didn’t like her now. Not that this woman could ever be any kind of competition. After all she’d been through over the last months with Hosea’s ex-fiancée, Natasia, Jasmine could handle someone as simple as Ivy. She’d beat her down, then toss her over the side of a cliff if she even thought about pushing up on Hosea.
“Thanks, Ivy.” Jasmine snatched her husband’s hand from Ivy’s grasp.
“Let me check on Pops before we go.”
The moment he was gone, Jasmine turned to Ivy. “Thanks again,” she said, although there was little gratitude inside her tone.
“No problem.” Ivy gave her a big-tooth grin. “I’d do anything for Hosea.”
“You don’t have to do anything for him. I’ve got that covered.”
Ivy’s eyes widened. “I just meant—”
“I don’t care what you meant,” Jasmine said, looking down at the five-foot-tall woman and speaking in the same tone she reserved for scolding Jacqueline. “You don’t have to do a thing for my husband unless I ask you to.” She spun around and left Hosea’s old friend standing in the hallway of Harlem hospital with her eyes the size of half dollars and her mouth opened just as wide.
It had taken a lot, but Jasmine had talked Hosea into wearing a suit.
“There’s no reason for me to get dressed up,” he’d protested at first. “I’m going to run in there, tell everyone about Pops’s letter, and then I’m heading straight back to the hospital.”
“But babe, you still have to look the part.”
“What part?” Then, as if he was just noticing her, he frowned as he took in her leopard-collared suit and pearls he’d given her last Mother’s Day. “Jasmine, this isn’t an audition.”
But she had relentlessly laid her case, convincing Hosea that if he walked into the church looking like a pastor, there would be less drama. She suspected it was more fatigue than agreement that made Hosea finally give in. But whatever, she’d won, and now they were on their way to taking their rightful place at City of Lights.
As their SUV snaked uptown on Central Park West, Jasmine smoothed the front of her raw silk skirt, leaned back, and pressed Play on the movie in her mind.
Her life was already filled with wonder, with Hosea being the executive producer and host of Bring It On, a top-rated, award-winning Christian talk show. From their apartment on Central Park South to the celebrity-studded events that filled their calendar, she was living the kind of life she’d always craved. But being the first lady of a church as large and influential as City of Lights came with a whole ’nother level of benefits. First, there was the income. She wasn’t sure what her father-in-law earned, but with a church so large, it could be well into the six, maybe even seven figures. Some of those TV pastors earned millions, not even counting all the extras—like the hundreds of thousands that came from speaking engagements and writing books. Maybe she and Hosea would write a book together!
The calculator was clicking in her mind as she thought about what she was going to do with the millions that would come her way. They’d keep their apartment because it didn’t get much better than Central Park South real estate. But they would definitely get a summer place in the Hamptons. And they would get rid of this SUV. Hosea needed a driver. And she needed one, too, as the first lady because surely she’d be in demand now. She could see herself flitting around the city, speaking at this fund-raiser or hosting that benefit.
The smile that had been in her mind made its way to her lips.
“Jasmine?”
Her eyes popped open. “Huh?”
“What’re you thinking about? You look like you’re in another world.”
She wiped her smile away. “I was saying a prayer…for your dad and thinking about how proud he’s going to be when he wakes up.”
Hosea reached across the console and squeezed her hand. “I know you can’t be all that excited about this.”
She forced a sigh. “It’s okay,” she said, as if she wasn’t thrilled.
“I love that you’re in my corner.”
“I love you, Hosea. I’ll always be here for you. And for your father, too.”
That was the truth. She still couldn’t believe what had happened to Reverend Bush. Her plan was to send up as many prayers as she could for him to recover quickly.
But there was no need for Reverend Bush to rush it. When he came out of the coma, he would need care and time to heal. She and Hosea would be there for him. Definitely. But he could take his time getting well.
And maybe Reverend Bush would be so proud of Hosea that he would retire and let his son take over permanently.
Oh, yes, he woul
d be proud of both of them because she was going to rock her position as the new first lady.
She couldn’t wait to get started.
SIX
HOSEA EASED THE CAR INTO the parking lot, then hesitated before he squeezed into the space next to the one reserved for the senior pastor.
After he helped Jasmine from the car, they moved slowly across the graveled lot, for the first time walking in the path where Reverend Bush almost died. She kept her eyes toward the church, not wanting to look down, not wanting to see any remnant of what had happened here on Saturday night.
But her imagination churned, and she could envision the police cars arriving, their flashing red lights breaking through the dark. She could hear the sirens of the emergency units speeding to the rescue. She could picture Brother Hill kneeling beside Reverend Bush, trembling with panic and dread and fear.
She glanced sideways and could tell that Hosea shared her thoughts. Her heart ached for him, and she squeezed his hand. But even though she knew that her husband hurt, she knew just as well that this was where they were supposed to be—following in the same steps that Reverend Bush had walked almost every day of the thirty years he’d led City of Lights. They were on their way to securing his legacy, fulfilling his will.
It was a deep breath that she released when they finally stepped into the church, and as they approached the conference room, the melancholy that had overtaken her was nudged aside by her rising joy. But she pressed down her delight; she couldn’t very well walk into the executive board meeting with a smile while her father-in-law was fighting to stay alive.
The board members were sitting around the conference table, their voices low, their faces grave.
“Good evening,” Hosea said the moment they stepped inside.
Jasmine was glad that she was still holding on to her husband—or else the cold stares would have knocked her over.
Only her godbrother Malik smiled, stood, and gave her a hug.
“Uh, Hosea.” Brother Hill pushed himself from his chair. His eyes moved between Hosea and Jasmine.
But before he could say anything more, Pastor Wyatt piped in, “Hosea, this is a closed meeting.”
Lady Jasmine Page 3
