With her head resting on his chest, she said, “Babe, you know, I just thought of something.” She lifted up and grazed her lips across his neck. He stirred, and she opened her mouth. Tickled him with her tongue. Made him moan. He was ready.
She leaned back and said, “You’re the pastor, and you know I love God.” For extra measure, she did what she always did when she wanted her way—kissed him long. And kissed him hard. Then, “I don’t think it would be right for me to be sitting in a new-member class with regular people. How would that look? I mean, I am the first lady.”
He squeezed her but stayed quiet, as if he was contemplating her words. Then he planted a kiss on her forehead. “It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be a great example for the regular people.” He rolled over on his side, away from her.
Jasmine opened her mouth, ready to demand that he turn back. That he listen to her and agree. But after a while, she sank into her own pillows, crossed her arms, and stared at the ceiling. Mad!
In the morning she brought it up again. But before she had a chance to say too much, Hosea ended it. “We don’t need to talk about this anymore.” Picking up his plate from the table, he dumped it in the sink. “After you take this first class, you’ll see. You’ll be so glad you went, you’ll be thanking me.”
She poked out her lips so that he would know just how miserable she was. She lifted Jacqueline from her chair and held her in her lap. Then she went right back to her complaining. “How can I walk in there today? Don’t you have to start with the first class?”
“No, you’ll be fine. I’ll call and let them know you’re coming.” He kissed her cheek, then Jacqueline’s. “I’ll be in Pops’s office when you’re finished. Let’s have lunch afterward,” and then he walked out the door.
There was nothing else to say; it was a fait accompli.
“Mrs. Sloss,” Jasmine called out after she helped Jacqueline finish her cereal.
A minute later, she handed her daughter to their nanny. It didn’t make sense to fight this any longer; she had to get ready for the class.
Jasmine didn’t even know who was leading the new-members group. She’d been fighting so hard, she’d forgotten to ask. But it didn’t matter—Pastor Wyatt, Brother Hill, even if Jerome Viceroy showed up—she’d be able to handle any of them.
Glancing at her watch, she released a quick breath. It was a bit after ten. She pressed her Bible against her chest, pulled open the door, stepped inside, and almost fell over.
“Jasmine!”
She was facing the only person she couldn’t handle.
Mrs. Whittingham glided toward Jasmine as if she were glad to see her. “Hosea told me you were coming. Welcome to the new-members class.” Mrs. Whittingham spread her arms, as if she was really welcoming her.
Jasmine’s shocked eyes moved from Mrs. Whittingham to the women sitting on two of the three folding chairs. She nodded her hello to them, then turned her body sideways and whispered, “What are you doing here?”
“I teach the daytime classes,” Mrs. Whittingham sang as if that announcement should make Jasmine happy.
Jasmine’s glance went straight to the door.
This time, it was Mrs. Whittingham who spoke in a low voice. “Sit down, Lady Jasmine.” The sound of happiness, gone from her tone. “You’re not the first lady in my class. I’m running this show.”
Jasmine glanced quickly at the two women.
Witnesses.
Hosea would surely be voted out as senior pastor if she were to do to Mrs. Whittingham what she’d always wanted.
Slowly, Jasmine moved toward the other women. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the chair, feeling the chill of the metal beneath her skirt.
“We were just getting started,” Mrs. Whittingham spoke again in that joyful tone. She introduced Jasmine to the others, “This is our new first lady. Can you believe it? She has to take a new-members class, too.”
Mrs. Whittingham was the only one who laughed. “Okay, let’s begin. Jasmine, did you bring a Bible?”
She inhaled. “Of course I did.” She held up the book that she knew for sure Mrs. Whittingham had seen.
“I didn’t know.” Mrs. Whittingham shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you even owned one.”
Jasmine squeezed her fingers together. Took deep breaths and made herself calm. Remembered her goal—to help Hosea.
“Today’s lesson is about Joseph in the book of Genesis.” Mrs. Whittingham turned to Jasmine and asked innocently, “First Lady, do you know where Genesis is in the Bible?”
Jasmine ground her teeth. Counted backward from ten. Recited the Lord’s Prayer. Then said the Twenty-third Psalm—at least the part she knew.
And none of that was enough to keep her there.
She leapt from her chair with such force that it fell backward, crashing to the floor. Jasmine moved forward; Mrs. Whittingham jumped back.
Jasmine already knew how she would explain it: she would tell Hosea, and the board, and the police, and the judge that she was laying hands on the woman in the name of Jesus and she had no idea how her fingers ended up wrapped around her neck.
Then in her peripheral vision, she saw them. The two women. Eyes wide with fright.
Witnesses.
That was when reason returned. Jasmine stared down her enemy for a moment more before she stomped straight out of the room.
Jasmine trudged from one end of the office to the other.
“You should have heard her, Hosea.” She continued her pacing. “That woman is crazy. I don’t care what you say. I’m not going back there.”
“You didn’t hit her, did you?”
If she’d been strapped to a lie detector, the waves would have been off the chart with the memory of what she’d wanted to do. “Of course I didn’t,” she said, insulted by the question.
“Just checking, ’cause recently—”
“You don’t have to worry.” Jasmine waved her hand in the air. “I behaved with all the decorum of a first lady when she asked me if I knew where Genesis was.”
Hosea leaned back in his chair, the ends of his lips twitching into a smile. “So you’re going to let these people throw me out of the church because my wife isn’t a member?”
She stopped moving, stared at him. “You think this is funny?” She shook her head. “I’m not going back, Hosea. Find me another way. Work it out.”
He nodded. “By the way, when she asked you about Genesis…”
Jasmine crossed her arms, sucked her teeth. “Very funny.” She did not laugh along with him.
“Okay,” he said, still chuckling. “There’s something else you can do, but it’s not going to be easy. You’ll have to study on your own—”
“I’ll do it!”
“And take the test that anyone joining the ministerial staff has to take.”
“I’ll do it!”
When Hosea’s phone rang, she turned from his office and marched toward her own. Her husband may have found this amusing, but she didn’t. These people were dancing on nerves she didn’t even know she had.
She was moving fast, head down, still grumbling, when she whipped around the corner.
“Excuse me,” she said when she bumped into someone. She looked up and into the eyes of Pastor Wyatt. She scooted to the side to move past him, but Pastor Wyatt blocked her path.
“What do you want?” she hissed. There was no first lady decorum left.
“I wanted to know if you talked to your husband about stepping down.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re smart enough to think about what I said the other day—this job is too big for Hosea.”
“I’ve got three points for you, Pastor. The job isn’t too big for my husband. He is the senior pastor. Get over it.”
Her words wiped his smile away. “Remember, this was your choice.” The way he spoke through clenched teeth made Jasmine back up a bit. “I gave you a way out. Now, I’ll have to do what I have to do.”
&n
bsp; A lump of fear rose from her stomach to her throat. Those were almost the same words Jerome had uttered. But she didn’t back down, just responded as if she wasn’t afraid. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”
He shook his head, and his lips twitched into something between a smile and a grimace. “I don’t make threats, I just keep my promises.” He turned around and sauntered away with that bad-boy strut that made him look like he came straight from the streets.
Jasmine rushed into her office, closed the door, and leaned against it. Stayed right there and waited for her heartbeat to return to its normal rhythm.
“I’m not afraid of him!” she said over and over.
She was Jasmine Cox Larson Bush. She’d been through it all—hadn’t had a day without drama since the third grade. And she’d always come out on top. Certainly, this two-bit, second-rate pastor couldn’t scare her.
But the way her lips quivered, the way her hands shook, the way her legs trembled, told her that she wasn’t speaking the truth. The fact was, she was scared. Very, very scared—and she wasn’t quite sure why.
TWENTY-TWO
“DADDY, LOOK IT!” JACQUELINE PATTED her father’s knee, then pointed to make sure that he saw the opulent palace that glowed on the forty-two-inch flat screen.
“That’s right, baby.” Jasmine leaned over and kissed her daughter on the top of her head. “You’re gonna live large like that one day.”
With a smirk, Hosea shook his head at his wife’s words, and Jasmine laughed.
This was the way life was supposed to be: the three Bushes—Hosea and Jasmine sitting shoulder to shoulder, with Jacqueline squeezed in between them.
Jasmine had been surprised when, after church, Hosea had told her that he wasn’t going to the hospital.
“I want to go home and be with you and Jacquie,” he’d said. “I’ll check on Pops later.”
And so now they sat, watching Jacqueline’s favorite movie and singing along with the sound track as Moses led the Hebrew slaves out of Egypt.
“Daddy, look it!” Jacqueline exclaimed again as she grabbed a fat fist of popcorn.
Jasmine reached for her husband’s hand, and although thoughts of doctors and hospitals, associate pastors and board members, the past and the present, weren’t far away, at least for a few hours the three of them had peace.
When the telephone rang, Jasmine reached for the cordless without taking her eyes off the screen.
“Jasmine, this is Roxie Willis.”
She blinked. “Hi,” was all she said as she stood up and edged toward the kitchen. She hadn’t seen or heard from Roxie since that first Sunday in church.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Yes, you are. But she didn’t speak her thought to Hosea’s friend. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, we haven’t talked in a while, and I heard what’s been going on in the church.”
Jasmine frowned. She’d heard what?
Roxie said, “I’ve been through all of those church politics before, and I think I can help.”
All Jasmine could think about was the last time she saw Roxie, winking at Hosea.
“Roxie, Hosea said that we don’t have the money in the budget for an armor bearer.”
“Money? Is that what Hosea said?”
Uh-oh.
Roxie asked, “Why would he think I’d want to be paid?”
Seemed like that lie was a mistake.
Roxie asked, “Would you mind if I talked to Hosea so that I can explain? Is he home?”
“Well, no, Hosea didn’t really…I mean, I can’t imagine anyone working and not being paid.”
“Jasmine, this is my reasonable service. And anyway, I’m blessed. My husband left me…well, let’s just say money is not something I’m concerned about.”
It was the thought of those millions Hosea had told her about that made Jasmine pause. A woman with that much money could be a good friend.
Roxie continued, “I care about what’s going on at City of Lights, and I know I can help.”
Then in the background, Jasmine heard, “Roxie, you ready, sweetheart?”
Jasmine pressed the phone closer to her ear.
“In a minute, honey,” and then to Jasmine, she said, “I’m sorry. Look, why don’t we set up a time to talk tomorrow.”
Another thought of those millions made Jasmine say, “Make it around ten,” before she hung up.
But she still wasn’t sure about that woman or the meeting. And now, that man’s voice in the background made her more suspicious. A man’s voice, when her husband had just died. A man’s voice that sounded so familiar.
Back in the living room, Jacqueline was stretched out, her head resting in her dad’s lap, her eyes tightly closed.
“You’ll never guess who was on the phone,” Jasmine said. Before Hosea could respond, she told him, “Roxie. We’re meeting in the morning.”
“That’s great.”
Jasmine nodded, but she didn’t say anything else. She still wasn’t feeling this woman, but maybe she did need to bring Roxie in. What was that cliché about enemies? Jasmine wasn’t sure if Roxie was a friend or a foe. But for now, it might be a good idea to keep that woman close.
TWENTY-THREE
CLOSE. THAT’S WHERE JASMINE WANTED to keep Roxie—close to her. And with the way she was looking today—far from Hosea.
As the woman sat in front of her chatting, Jasmine had a hard time listening. This woman was simply too gorgeous—Halle Berry’s mother, if her mama had been black. Today, her short hair was slicked back instead of spiked. And the crisp white tailored shirt and blue jeans that she wore would have been simple on anyone else. But on Roxie, casual became couture.
Then there was her makeup—or the fact that she didn’t have any on. But still, her skin glowed, her eyes were bright, and her lips shone.
And like before, Jasmine hated her.
“So after I heard what was going on, I made a list.” Roxie pulled her PDA from her purse and clicked it on. “You and Hosea need to take this church back to the things that made it great. Get these people involved in so many programs, they won’t have time to be in your business. Like the Women’s Forum…what’s going on with that?”
Jasmine rested her arms on her desk. “What’s the Women’s Forum?”
“Are you kidding, First Lady? The Women’s Forum has been a big event for City of Lights. You’ve never attended?”
Jasmine shook her head.
“It takes place during the summer, and it’s simply wonderful: all kinds of speakers come in to lecture about finances, jobs, fitness…this list goes on. But I haven’t heard anything about it this year. I think Mrs. Whittingham usually handles it.” She lowered her voice, and added, “But frankly, First Lady, that should be your project.”
That made Jasmine smile. In the week since Mrs. Whittingham had insulted her in the new-members class, the two hadn’t exchanged a single glance or a solitary word. But now Jasmine imagined marching up to Mrs. Whittingham and telling her that her services were no longer needed.
“Is there a Men’s Forum?”
Roxie shook her head. “Not at this point, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”
Jasmine said, “Maybe we can combine the two.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about, First Lady. The more programs the better.”
Jasmine nodded, thought some more. And then another idea. “What about something like a First Lady Appreciation Day?”
“Well,” Roxie began with a grin, “I don’t know. Have you been a first lady long enough?”
“Please! Does length of time matter?” She stood, walked around her desk, paced the length of the room. “An event like this could really help me introduce myself to the women of this church.”
Roxie leaned back in the chair, smiled, and nodded. “Well, if it works for you, it’ll work for me. I can handle that, because the first lady shouldn’t plan her own day.”
That was all it took
for Jasmine to like her again.
“So,” Roxie stood up, “I guess this means we’ll be working together.”
Jasmine stopped moving. Today, she’d worn her very best St. John pantsuit—the black, slimming one—knowing that she was going to be sharing the same space with Roxie. But as Jasmine looked her up and down, not even St. John had been enough.
Then she thought about the woman’s money. And the First Lady’s Appreciation Day.
“Yes, definitely,” Jasmine said, shaking Roxie’s hand. Walking back behind her desk, she added, “I hope you understand why I was so hesitant.”
Roxie held up her hand. “Trust me, I understand. In your position, you have to be careful about who you bring in. Okay, what about if I come into the office…three days a week to start. And of course, any time you need more, that’ll be fine.”
The shadow outside her office made Jasmine frown, pause. And a second later, she saw him.
“What are you doing here?” she growled.
Jerome Viceroy’s grin spread across his face. “So good to see you, too, Lady Jasmine.”
“I said—”
“He’s with me.” Roxie stood up, and Jerome kissed her cheek.
The voice!
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah,” Roxie said. “We’re finished here, right?”
It felt like it took a million muscles for Jasmine to nod her head.
“Okay, well,” Roxie swung her bag over her shoulder, “we’ll start tomorrow…around ten?”
Again, all Jasmine did was nod.
She watched them walk out the door and before they stepped into the hallway, Jerome looked back over his shoulder, licked his lips. “You have a nice day now, ya hear?”
Once they were gone, Jasmine fell into her chair. That was who she’d heard in the background the other night: Jerome Viceroy. Roxie was in bed with Jerome—literally. That was how she knew what was going on in the church. And that was why she was pushing to get close to her.
Roxie must’ve thought she was a fool! Jerome Viceroy was clearly the enemy. And anyone who was sleeping with the enemy couldn’t be a friend of hers.
Lady Jasmine Page 13
