Phoebe shook her head silently.
“I have an idea,” Deborah said suddenly. “Why don’t you come to church with me tomorrow? Triage won’t be getting back till late, so it’ll be just you and me.”
For the first time in minutes, Phoebe laughed. “Girl, I haven’t been to church in so long that the building just might fall apart when I walk in.”
Deborah laughed with her. “That won’t be a problem; it’s a brick building.”
It took Phoebe a few moments before she said, “Okay. Let’s go to church and see if God is still there for me.”
The next morning, Phoebe called to tell Deborah that she wasn’t feeling well. It took Deborah almost twenty minutes to convince Phoebe that it was just the devil trying to keep her away.
By the time they walked into Macedonia, the choir had already begun singing. Phoebe motioned to the last pew, and Deborah agreed, wanting Phoebe to feel comfortable on her first visit. The key was to get her to come back.
Throughout the service, Deborah held Phoebe’s hand and guided her through the scriptures. When Pastor Clarke spoke of Jesus being the true vine, and His children the branches, she watched Phoebe from the corner of her eye.
“Any branch which does not bear fruit, will be cut away. If you’re not living for God, if you’re not bearing fruit for His kingdom, then He has no need for you. The Lord said, ‘Every branch in me that beareth not fruit, he taketh away and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.’”
Deborah saw Phoebe edge in closer and nod her head slowly as if the pastor’s words were sinking in.
When the choir stood for the last selection, Phoebe and Deborah joined them, but only Deborah sang and clapped. It wasn’t until they were in the car that Deborah asked Phoebe how she enjoyed the service.
“It was fine, good really.” Phoebe twisted her hands. “I felt like the pastor was talking to me.”
“I feel like that all the time.” Deborah chuckled. “So do you think you’ll come back?”
Phoebe nodded. “We’ll see. I’ll be out of town next weekend. My new man, Paul, wants to take me to Palm Springs for a lovers’ getaway.”
Deborah only smiled, though her disappointment weighed heavily.
“Okay, you can come back the week after that.”
When Phoebe remained silent, Deborah said, “Just remember, Phoebe, that God loves you no matter what you’re doing or who you’re with. You’re the one who’s going to have to make a commitment to Him, because He’s already made a commitment to you.”
Deborah stopped the car in front of Phoebe’s townhouse, and Phoebe hugged her. “Do you know how much I love you?” Phoebe said. “You’re such a good friend.” She pulled back. “And that’s all you’ve ever been. You’ve never wanted anything from me, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
Deborah hugged her back and was surprised how tightly Phoebe held on to her. When they pulled back this time, both had tear-filled eyes.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The lump in Deborah’s throat was too large for her to say anything, so she just smiled. She watched Phoebe walk slowly to her front door and felt a strong urge to pray. And she didn’t stop praying—she fell to her knees once she arrived home.
CHAPTER 42
DEBORAH TOOK THE ELEVATOR TO THE seventeenth floor of the Capricorn Records building, wishing Triage were with her.
“Deborah, how will that look?” Triage had said when she begged him to come with her.
“You think I care about looks? I don’t know what I’m doing. All I did was sign on to sing with Lavelle, and now I’m on the verge of having my own career,” she screamed.
His laugh echoed through his large living room. “That’s what you’ve wanted, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” She chuckled. “But I’m nervous about this meeting.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you. And I know God. You’ll pray tonight; you’ll pray tomorrow when you wake up. You’ll pray as you drive over to the meeting, and while they’re talking, you’ll be praying. And on top of that, I’ll be right here, waiting for you to call, and I’ll be praying too. So there’s no way things won’t work out right.”
Deborah smiled now as she remembered their conversation last night. Triage was right—she hadn’t stopped praying.
She had barely stepped off the elevator when William rushed over to her.
“You’re right on time.” William ran his hand over his beard. “They’re waiting for us.”
Deborah smoothed her red suit and followed William into the office marked “Patrick Robinson, President.”
The moment they entered, two men stood and walked across the large office to greet her.
“Deborah, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Patrick,” one man said, shaking her hand. “And this is Drew, our artists’ manager.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” She followed them as they returned to the massive desk that sat in front of the glass wall. Behind Patrick, Deborah had a clear view of the Hollywood sign. When she turned her attention to the men, they were all smiling at her.
Finally, William said, “I’ve told Deborah about your proposal, Patrick, but I knew you wanted to talk to her yourself.”
As Patrick went through Capricorn’s proposal, she held her face still, hoping it hid the trembling excitement she felt inside. It grew more intense as she listened to the details of their proposal—three-record contract, six-figure advance, ten percent of money earned from records sold.
“We like what you do with Lavelle; your sound has people wanting to hear more of you already. So we want to play on that. Maybe make you a bit sexier, more on the edge. We think you could give Phoebe Garland a run.”
She frowned. She had hoped to pull back a bit from the image that was taking her further away from who she wanted to be. But she would discuss that later.
After another twenty minutes, Patrick finally said, “Deborah, as you know, we only sign stars.” He motioned to a wall filled with photos of some of the biggest names in the business. “And we plan on making you as big as any of them.” He leaned back in his chair. “So what do you say?”
Deborah returned his smile. What should she say? Here she was, a twenty-seven-year-old woman from a small town in Georgia, sitting in an office with three white men dressed in almost identical navy suits. They stared at her as if they expected only one answer—yes! Who would turn this down? the expressions on their faces said.
Deborah took a deep breath and said, “This all sounds good, but I want to review this with my lawyer.”
Patrick looked at William as if her response surprised him, and William twisted in his seat.
“Uh, Deborah, I’m an attorney, and I’ve looked this over. It’s one of the best contracts you’ll get.”
“I understand, but I still want to take this home and look it over.” She paused. “And I need to pray about it.”
She almost laughed aloud at their confused stares. She stood. “Gentlemen, thank you so much for meeting with me. I’ll get back to William in a day or two.” She turned to William.
“Uh, I’ll call you later, Deborah,” he said. “I have some other business here.”
She shrugged, then smiled before she left the office. Through the reception area, into the elevator, then out into the parking lot, she remained calm. It wasn’t until she pulled through the guarded gate and drove onto the freeway that she punched Triage’s number into her cell phone and screamed when he answered on the first ring.
“Triage, I’m on my way over there! We have a lot of praying to do.” She was giddy with excitement.
“So it went well?”
“Let’s just put it this way: My tithing envelopes are going to be a whole lot thicker from now on!”
CHAPTER 43
DEBORAH COULDN’T WAIT TO GET TO PHOEBE’S apartment and tell her friend the final news—she had sign
ed the Capricorn contract this morning!
Phoebe had been so happy for her the day before, and Deborah had readily accepted when Phoebe invited her to a celebratory dinner. She was so eager to see Phoebe, she was tempted to ignore the speed limit on the way to her friend’s house.
Both Phoebe and Triage thought there were big changes coming for her now. “Just wait,” they joked, “you’re going to be big-time. Maybe you’ll finally break down and trade in that Camry!”
But she wasn’t thinking about fancy cars or elaborate homes. She was thinking about how blessed she was to be able to use the gift that the Lord gave her in a way that would bring her the fame and fortune she’d always dreamed of.
“Thank you, Father!” she thought as she turned into the guest parking lot at Phoebe’s townhouse.
Sirens were blaring and lights were flashing. Three police cars and an ambulance blocked off the parking lot. Several people stood outside Phoebe’s house. Deborah’s heart was beating loudly in her chest.
She jumped from her car and ran toward Phoebe’s front door, but a uniformed cop stopped her.
“Miss, this is a crime scene. No one can go in there.”
“My friend lives there,” Deborah cried. “Please, what happened?”
Two policemen came down the steps of her friend’s house escorting Thomas, who was in handcuffs. Deborah gasped. A second later, Phoebe was brought out on a stretcher, and Deborah pushed past the cop.
“Phoebe!”
With half-opened eyes, Phoebe reached toward her, but the oxygen mask covering Phoebe’s mouth prevented her from saying anything.
Deborah turned to the paramedics. “Please, I’m her . . . sister. I want to ride with her.”
They nodded and allowed Deborah to accompany Phoebe in the ambulance. The medics worked on Phoebe all the way to Cedars Sinai, and Deborah kept out of the way. Fifteen minutes passed before a doctor allowed Deborah to see Phoebe.
“She’s been asking for you,” the doctor said simply as he led Deborah to the cubicle where Phoebe lay on a gurney. “But only for a moment. We have to get her into surgery.”
The bandage that surrounded her head was soaked with blood, but she was awake, her eyes tiny slits. She lifted her hands, reaching for Deborah.
“I’m here, Phoebe.” Deborah sniffed. She wanted to know what had happened, but none of that was important now.
“Deborah.” Phoebe’s voice was low and raspy. “I need you to do me a favor.”
Deborah took Phoebe’s hand. “Sshh, don’t try to talk,” Deborah said as tears streaked down her cheeks. “You need your strength. They said you have to have surgery—”
“I’m not . . . going to make it.”
“Don’t say that,” Deborah cried, shaking her head.
“It’s all right. I’m tired. . . .” She paused and swallowed. “But . . . I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.” Deborah choked the word through her throat.
“I didn’t do right by God,” Phoebe whispered. “Please ask Him to forgive me.”
Deborah’s lips trembled with grief, but she took Phoebe’s hand in both of hers. “I don’t have to do that for you, Phoebe. You can do it.”
“I don’t know—”
“Phoebe, you can accept Jesus right here, right now, and He’ll forgive all your sins. Just say that you accept Jesus Christ as your savior and that He died for your sins.”
“That’s it?”
Deborah nodded, then swallowed hard before she spoke. “Do you accept Jesus as your savior?” she sobbed.
“Yes, please, Jesus.” Deborah could barely hear Phoebe, but that didn’t matter. She knew Jesus heard.
Deborah continued through her tears. “Phoebe, once you’ve asked Jesus into your heart as your savior, you’re saved. There’s nothing else you have to do. God loves you and has forgiven you.”
“I’m sorry, miss,” a nurse interrupted them. “You have to leave now.”
“I just need—”
“Now!”
Phoebe’s fingers slowly slipped out of Deborah’s grasp, and Deborah backed away from the bed.
Outside, she asked a passing orderly for directions to the basement chapel, and through tear-heavy eyes, she found her way there. She knelt at the altar.
“Please, God, please save Phoebe. She is just getting to know You. I know that doesn’t matter,” Deborah cried. “But Phoebe has so much to offer You, Lord. There is so much that she can do here in Your name. Please, Father . . .”
She stayed on her knees for another fifteen minutes, then rushed back to the emergency room.
When she pushed open the door, she gasped as she heard the doctor say, “Record the time of death as nine twenty-seven. . . .”
She was still trembling when Triage rushed into the emergency room and pulled her into his arms.
“Oh, baby,” was all he said, as she finally released her anguish.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” she sobbed.
“Neither can I,” Triage said, squeezing her closer to his chest. “But at least you were with her.”
Deborah nodded and lifted her head. “And I got to pray with her right before. . . .”
His thumb gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “Deborah, that’s all that matters.” He pulled her back into his arms, and they sat in the waiting area, surrounded by women who held small children and men who paced, waiting to hear news of loved ones.
It was after eleven by the time he drove her home. Triage would send one of his friends to pick up her car in the morning.
When Deborah put the key in the door of her condo, she turned to him. “I’m really tired. I’m just going to go to bed.”
“That’s fine,” Triage responded. “But I’m not going to leave you alone. I’m going to stay with you tonight.”
When she began to protest, Triage opened the door and gently pushed her inside.
“I know how you feel about this, Deborah, and believe me, I’m not trying to pull anything. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“But that won’t look right—”
“I don’t care how it looks. It’s just for one night. I can’t leave you alone. Please take a look at this from my point of view and try to understand.”
She nodded, too tired to argue, and showed him the closet that held the extra blankets.
“If you’re going to stay, you can sleep in the other bedroom—”
“The couch will be fine,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
It didn’t take long for her to undress and crawl into bed, ignoring her nightly ritual of a shower, brushing her teeth, and then reading her Bible. She was too weak to do any of those things.
As she reached to turn off the light, she noticed the blinking light on her answering machine, but she wasn’t going to check her messages—not right now. It was probably just people who had gotten the news about Phoebe, and she couldn’t talk about that right now.
“Oh, Phoebe.” Deborah squeezed her pillow and cried softly. “I am going to miss you so much.”
While she thought it would take hours to fall asleep, she was blessed with unconsciousness a few seconds after she closed her eyes. But her slumber was filled with memories so real that when the telephone rang, abruptly pulling her from her sleep, she couldn’t remember if what had happened last night was real or part of a dream.
When she heard the gentle knock on her door, and Triage softly calling her name, she remembered that Phoebe was really gone.
“Deborah, your father is on the phone.”
Quickly, she lifted the receiver. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Deborah Anne, are you all right?”
Concern soaked his words, and Deborah knew her parents had somehow found out what had happened. “I’m fine, Daddy.”
“I know it’s early. Milton said that you were still asleep—”
She wanted to explain why Triage was there, but all she said was, “Daddy, my friend is dead.”
“Yes,” Deborah said, “it looks that way. When I got to her apartment last night, her old boyfriend, Thomas, was being led away in handcuffs.”
“You were there?”
The way her father asked the question, Deborah was sure that he would take the next plane to Los Angeles and snatch her back to Villa Rica.
“I got there right after the ambulance arrived. But I was able to ride with her to the hospital, and once we got there, I was able to pray with her, Daddy. Phoebe received Jesus before she died.” Deborah sobbed softly.
There was a silent moment before Elijah said, “Thank the Lord for that.”
“Is Mama there?”
“No, she had to be at the hospital early this morning. I don’t think she knows anything about this yet. I’ll tell her when she comes home.”
“Okay—”
“Deborah Anne, maybe you should come home for a few days.”
“I wish I could, Daddy, but I’m going to start recording my album in a few weeks, and we have other shows to do—”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Elijah said gruffly. Then his voice softened. “I just care about you being all right.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll call you and Mama tonight.”
“Okay. I love you, baby.”
“Me, too,” she said, then hung up the phone.
She was still sitting up in her bed when Triage knocked again.
“Deborah, I made some tea,” he said through the closed door.
“Thank you. I’ll be right out.”
She grabbed her bathrobe and thought about how blessed she was to have Triage. He would help her get through this time.
The moment she opened her bedroom door, the Tazo tea that Triage had prepared greeted her. He was already sipping a cup, and he stood when he heard her footsteps.
He hugged her. “How are you?”
“I’m doing better than I thought,” she said, sinking into the couch.
Singsation Page 20
