And then I thought about the people who’d been following me. Chill bumps covered my arms. Maybe this was their way of getting me to leave the house. Now I was angry. Bravo. Job well done, because I was going to see about my shop. My only hope was that whoever was responsible was somewhere nearby. I was so mad there was a good chance they would be the ones fearing for their lives.
I drove with Mya in the backseat. She reminded me at every stop sign that she had a birthday party to go to and I was going in the wrong direction. How a four-year-old knew direction better than me boggled the mind. On the days I promised the park and took a slight detour to the bank or store, she’d spring up from her booster seat, alarming me with a shriek. “Mommy, that’s the wrong way.” Gasoline stops were the only permitted route change—if I bought her a cherry Slurpee and a package of Cheez-Its.
“Sweetie, I told you: Right now we’re going to Mommy’s floral store. Jory’s birthday party is at two. That’s four hours from now. You’ll be there on time, with bells on.”
“I don’t want to wear bells.”
“Mya. Never mind, okay, you’ll be at Jory’s party.” My heart was beating too quickly. I was scared of what I would see when I arrived at In Bloom. Angry because I had a feeling it was more I could blame Legend for. His fault—everything was his fault. If there was an earthquake two thousand miles away, I’d blame him for that, too.
My cell rang. I let out an exasperated sigh when I saw it was my mother. I thought about letting it go to voicemail. That meant she’d call back every thirty minutes with worry. I decided to get the conversation over with. “Hey, Mom,” I answered lightly, so as not to show my usual panic over the slightest upset in my life . . . especially after she’d said how proud she was of me for being so grounded and responsible the past year. As if I were some problem child. I was a grown woman who’d been independent and successful in my career for the better half of my life, but somehow, all that mattered was my emotional state. If I was sad, I was a failure. Happiness meant job well done.
“I guess you didn’t hear about the earthquake. You obviously didn’t hear, since you didn’t call to check up on us. Your daddy and me were shaken out of our beds. A five-point-four magnitude centered right up the way in Pasadena. All the pictures on the wall are crooked now.”
“My goodness,” was all I could muster. My mind was whirling. This was a call from the universe, confirming my assumption. One word: earthquake. The cause: Legend Hill. Something kept gnawing at me. Nothing had been right in the world since Legend had shown up on our doorstep. First Airic and his misstep with the law. Then Trevelle coming undone over her daughter’s wedding. And here I was about to see my household turned upside down, all that I’d built torn apart overnight. He was a karmic disaster, carrying around destruction and dark clouds, and he’d landed in my house.
“I’ve been preoccupied. Sorry. Someone broke in the floral boutique and trashed the place.”
“What’d they steal, a pocketful of posies?” She giggled at her own joke.
“Not funny.”
“It’s a flower shop,” Pauletta said, still not getting the gravity of the situation. “What in the world could they want? You’re not some front operation, are you? Jake hasn’t gotten himself involved—”
“Mom, please. You know better than that.”
“Well, he was a rapper. He may still have some of that thug life running in his veins.”
“Are you serious?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve been watching these young men. They’re not just mimicking videos and sagging pants. It’s a mentality. I’ve been volunteering in the teen ministry program at church, and these boys really think and act like prison inmates. Never even been to prison, but the mind can program your behavior. You are what you think,” she said, with more proof coming. She took a breath, gunning up with examples.
“Jake is not a boy. He’s a grown man who takes care of his family.” I ran a red light, not paying attention, then automatically checked the rearview to see if it was about to cost me. Maybe if there were a police officer behind, I could lead them straight to In Bloom to solve some real crime. But instead of seeing a blue-and-black cruiser with patrol lights, there was the dark gray car, the same one that had been sitting in front of my house. The same one I thought I’d seen following me. “Shit . . .”
“What? What is it? You all right? Tell me what’s going on.”
“I have to go, Mom.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. Do you have my grandbaby with you? Whatever’s going on—”
“Mom, I promise, I will call you back.” I pushed the button on the steering wheel. “Jake, dial.” I ordered, enunciating so I wouldn’t have to repeat to the Bluetooth system. Dialing Jake, the computer voice repeated. The phone rang only once before scooting into voice mail.
“Mommy?” Mya didn’t have to say more than that to let me know I’d scared her. “I want to go to the party right now.” She stuck out her bottom lip in preparation for a full-blown cry. Her arms crossed to show she meant business.
“Okay, sweetie, okay . . .” I tried to keep my panic hidden. After all my talk of wanting to see the culprits who’d damaged my store, now I was frightened out of my mind. “You know what? That’s a good idea.” I barely braked when I swung the car around, crossing over double yellow lines. I pressed the gas and heard the tires screech like Mario Andretti.
The car spun around to follow but didn’t make as smooth a transition. I watched in the rearview mirror as it got out of the way of an oncoming eighteen-wheeler. Once they got their bearings, they were back on the road and following me.
Oh God, oh God. I stepped harder on the gas. The car leaped when I hit a bump. I pulled into the Wal-Mart shopping center and swerved around the crowded parking lot until I was sure I’d lost them.
Mya wailed. “I want Jory.”
“Stop it. I said that’s where we’re going—now, not another word, you hear me?” She buttoned it up quick, but the tears poured at an alarming rate. “Okay, no, I’m sorry, sweetie. Don’t cry, okay. Don’t cry.” It was true I wasn’t known for excellent decision-making skills in a time of crisis, but this made perfect sense.
If these guys already knew where I lived, there was no sense in running back home, where they could easily find me. Jory’s dad was a state senator. Their house was in a private suburb called Hadley Park, where an armed guard stood at the gate and asked every man, woman, and child for ID before entry. Whether the leather encasement around the guard’s waist was a cell phone or a gun, I stood a better chance of being protected and safe in Hadley Park than going home to an empty house.
I idled for a few minutes more and said a prayer before cautiously backing out and moving to the exit. Up and down the street I searched. When it was clear, I took off toward the highway. Exhilaration pumped through my veins. At ninety miles per hour, the trip came to a close pretty quickly.
The Company of Women
Delma and Hudson weren’t regular members at Trinity. The church was young and growing. Bishop Talley couldn’t have been more than thirty, but he spoke the Word like an old soul who’d lived multiple lives. Keisha waved Delma over. She wasn’t a regular member either, but if she wanted the bishop to preside over her ceremony, she’d have to make a few solid appearances. Delma led the way for her and Hudson past feet and knees.
“You made it. How you doin’, Hudson?” Keisha leaned in for a half hug, stretching best she could past her fiancé who was in the way. Gray stood erect, shoulders back in his exquisitely tailored suit, refusing to lean to the side. He had the nerve to pat Delma on the back.
She patted him right back. “Morning,” she said, offering as much politeness as she could. They were in a house of worship, after all. She should at least be grateful the good Lord woke her up—or some nonsense that had nothing to do with how she really felt. She was plain annoyed. Unable to shake the dream she’d had last night. More like a premonition. Gray standing over a cowering Keisha while she hid her face
and cried, slumped in a corner. Though Delma couldn’t see her face, she knew it was her baby. She woke up seething, hot with revenge. Hudson told her to relax, it was only a dream. “Fears manifest themselves in dreams,” he’d warned. “You don’t want your imagination sending you to the hospital with heart palpitations.”
He had a point. The mind could play terrible and powerful tricks, that much she knew. But what followed was no dream.
“I know I promised a dynamic speaker this Sunday. I know you all were expecting to be rid of me for at least one day.” The congregation laughed at the bishop’s jest. “You all have heard of the unfortunate events that have taken place with our beloved sister in Christ, Trevelle Doval. So I’m going to ask all of you to pray for her.” He raised his hands and closed his eyes. “Father, we ask that you keep her in your heart, keep her with good thoughts for speedy resolution and recovery so that she may come back strong and ready to speak your holy name, Amen.”
Bishop Talley turned his attention to the robed choir member approaching. She whispered something in his ear. He covered the clipped microphone on his robe and answered excitedly in favor of the request.
Meanwhile, Delma felt a slight burst of heat break out under her armpits—half relief, half anger for feeling set up. “Did you know about this?” She peered closely at Keisha.
“No.” Her daughter shook her head for emphasis. “I would never invite you here, knowing Trevelle was speaking. Really.”
Of course not. Delma calmed herself. She patted her forehead dry of moistness from perspiration. Keisha knew better. She would never trap me into listening to that hypocritical nutcase.
“Well, thank goodness she couldn’t make it,” Delma whispered to Hudson. “I would’ve walked right out of here.”
“Let’s just enjoy the moment. We’re here. We’re healthy. All is good.” He took her hand and squeezed. Hudson knew her every thought, her every doubt and fear. Sometimes she wondered if she even deserved him, such a good man with a heart of gold. Most of the time she didn’t feel like a good person. Deep down inside, she’d wrestled with her past. Forging Keisha’s birth certificate and adoption papers. Deep in the crevice of Delma’s soul, she knew she needed to ask for forgiveness, make amends, but then the tiny voice inside would say, You did the right thing. She did what she had to do to save a child from being put into foster care, or worse, in the arms of a child prostitute being subjected to drugs.
Music cued up, and the choir stood. Delma was relieved to end the loud clash of right and wrong battling in her mind, grateful to hear the sweet melodic voice as it sailed over the church. “He will find a way . . . hold on.”
Delma craned her neck to see after everyone else had begun to stand. She should’ve known something was afoot when Keisha’s black jewel eyes got big with apology.
There on the stage was the diva herself, Trevelle Doval. It was her voice sailing over the land. She walked slowly to the center with the microphone in her hand. Each exaggerated step of her high heels seemed to make the congregation clap harder.
“Sing. Tell it. Sing,” the woman next to Delma yelled and clapped. Trevelle reached the center of the stage, and the bishop opened his angel-robe arms, wrapping her in a long hug. This act brought about a standing ovation. The dramatic entry left not a dry eye in the place. Delma looked over at Hudson for a companion smirk, and even he had moisture welling up behind his glasses. Did he think she wouldn’t notice? She gave him an elbow near the rib to get his attention, then narrowed her glare.
Hudson put a comforting arm around her shoulders. He held her while he swayed gently to the beat of the music. Contagious was all. Crazy was contagious; she’d always known it. She had to fight off the urge of emotion not to be sucked into the fray herself.
The choir roared out, “Hold on, He’s coming . . . Hold on . . .”
Delma closed her eyes, willing herself to go numb. She didn’t want to be a part of this nonsense. That woman should’ve been holed up under a rock somewhere with embarrassment. Especially after the news and entertainment shows all ran the video showing her husband’s naked body blurred on the screen with another woman. How convenient everyone felt sorry for her. She’d never fool Delma, who knew exactly what Trevelle was capable of. Delma had seen the truth with her very own eyes the night Trevelle Doval murdered a man and walked away without a shred of conscience. If anything, Trevelle made multiple copies of the disc her damn self and sent them out to the news channels.
“Hold on . . . He’s coming. You don’t have to stress. You don’t have to worry . . .” The sweet melodic voice could have been that of an angel—if Delma hadn’t known better.
Keisha reached out, tapping her on the shoulder. Tears pooled down her cheeks. Delma clasped her daughter’s hand. “Hold on” was right. It was going to be a bumpy ride, indeed. Life was a one-shot deal, but the ups and downs were endless. For a moment, Delma choked up. She kept her eyes straight ahead and willed herself not to see anything or anyone but the life-size statue of Jesus hanging on the embossed gold cross. Lord, have mercy. Protect my daughter from liars and false prophets, please, even if you don’t give a cat’s eye about me, protect my baby. This time, Delma didn’t fight it. She let the tears trickle down her nose, past her lips—and hoped her prayer made it to God’s ears.
The congregation filed out into the large lobby area that was as extravagant as a luxury hotel. The money spent on megachurches could have been used to feed a starving country. This, Delma knew, was not their goal. In fact, she’d been invited to sit on a new committee specifically commissioned to investigate the legitimacy of million-dollar preachers and their nonprofit status. She’d accepted with the hope Trevelle Doval and her phony-baloney ministries would be one of the first to be investigated.
“Keisha, darling, I thought that was you.” Trevelle pushed her way past the crowd that had gathered around to praise her. “What a surprise. How wonderful of you to come here to support me.”
“Yes, it was a lovely surprise.” Keisha hugged her.
Delma stood off to the side, counting the beams in the ceiling, the lights in the grand chandelier, even noticing the hidden cameras that most didn’t know existed. The bowl-shaped glass housed the type of security spyware that spun 360 degrees. Another useless expense. Had they really expected a midnight robbery? Then again, from the number of folks at capacity, there was probably a boatload of cash sitting in stacks.
“Delma, good to see you. Praise the Lord.”
“You, too,” was all Delma could say on her best behavior. “Sorry I haven’t had time to return your calls.”
“Five times,” Trevelle said. “I’ve called five times. I only wanted to offer any help I could on the wedding plans. I know everyone who is anyone. I probably could get the best of what you need at half the cost, or even free. Who wouldn’t want to help the daughter of Trevelle Doval?”
Delma felt her temperature rising. “We have everything covered. And I figured with everything on your plate—”
“It’s going to be beautiful,” Keisha interjected. “You really don’t have to do a thing but show up and relax on the big day.”
“Well, there she is—the woman of the hour.” Gray arrived from his powwow with what looked like a professional basketball player. He leaned in and kissed Trevelle on the cheek. Her long lashes closed and fluttered, as if he’d breathed fire on her. Maybe Delma and she had one thing in common: a dislike and distrust of Gray Hillman. But it had been Trevelle who brought the two of them together. She who’d wanted Keisha to work for the famous law and entertainment firm that represented her. Obviously, the plan had backfired.
“One big happy family.” Gray’s bronze eyes homed in on Trevelle, almost daring her to make a wrong move. He didn’t back away. “You’re looking lovely as usual, Trevelle.”
She ignored his compliment. Instead she took Keisha’s hands. “Can I speak with you for a moment? I promise it will be quick and painless.”
Delma gripped her purse in b
oth hands, feeling something was being stolen right before her very eyes. She watched as Keisha was led by Trevelle to a shiny wooden door. They went inside, leaving Delma, Gray, and Hudson in their awkward silence.
“Don’t worry, Mama D, she won’t eat her. She’ll be back in one piece,” Gray said coolly, though his demeanor made him look more nervous than Delma felt.
Hudson took a hold of his wife’s hand. “Let’s go. We’ll meet them at the restaurant.” The engagement brunch was scheduled directly after church. He tugged, but Delma didn’t budge. “Come on, woman. Don’t make me carry you out of here.”
“I wish you’d try.” She’d had enough anger built up. If it had to be her loving husband who got the wrath of it, then so be it.
“Mama D, I’ll wait for Keisha right here.” Gray kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I promise we’ll be at the restaurant shortly.”
She reached and took Hudson’s hand. “Fine. See you at the restaurant.”
When they got outside, Delma turned to Hudson. “Did you see that? Did you notice the way Trevelle cringed around Gray? You see, it’s not my imagination. She knows something about him, and she’s not fessing up. I’m telling you—”
“I saw it,” Hudson said apologetically, and left it at that.
Nappily in Bloom Page 12
