Jasmine sat straight up. “Lunch with Reverend Bush?”
“You know, we’re gonna have to do something about that. You can’t keep calling my pops Reverend Bush.”
She wanted to tell him that she didn’t want to call his father anything. Never wanted to talk to him at all.
For months, she’d done all she could to stay far from the reverend. If Hosea stayed for the second service, she made work-related excuses to get away. And she’d deftly changed the subject anytime she felt Hosea approaching any discussion of the two of them spending time with his father.
Hosea interrupted her thoughts with, “Maybe you should just call him Pops.”
He laughed. She didn’t.
“Aw, come on, Jasmine. Don’t let Mae Frances get you down.”
“I won’t,” she said. Her neighbor was a good cover. Now, she wished she could use Mae Frances to get out of this invitation. “Lunch with your father? Tomorrow? I don’t know. I still have so much work to do.”
“What work do you have to do after church?” She could hear his frown. “Are you trying to avoid my pops?”
“No, it’s just scary meeting the folks, you know?”
“That would make sense if you didn’t already know my father. But you know what kind of man he is. And he’s been asking me to arrange this for some time.” When she still said nothing, Hosea added, “I promise I won’t let him chew you up and spit you out.” He laughed.
“That’s not funny.” She shivered, imagining the sight. She could see Reverend Bush, with Rottweiler fangs. And she, a mangled mess at the end of lunch.
“Stop being so serious. After ten minutes with Pops, you’ll be wondering why we didn’t do this before.”
Jasmine remembered the last time she spent ten minutes with the reverend. If there is anything that stinks, I’ll smell it. After what she’d done, how was she going to sit across the table from the man who’d spoken those words?
“So, I was thinking we’d have brunch at Tavern on the Green. Okay?”
No was not an option. “I guess.”
“Great, and you’ll see. It’ll be fine.”
Jasmine couldn’t wait until they’d said good-bye. For the next hour, she sat, staring, silent, wondering how she would ever get through lunch with the man who just by looking at her had the potential to make her dreams come toppling down.
Her stomach stirred, and Jasmine had a feeling that after tomorrow her life would never be the same again.
Chapter 28
Jasmine had yet to exhale.
She hadn’t while she slept, nor while she dressed. Nor while she sat in the front pew, and dreaded (for the first time ever) the end of the service. Even now, as she waited in the church’s lounge, she felt as if she were suffocating.
“Darlin’, are you ready?”
She wanted to tell him no, that she would never be ready to break bread with his father.
“Of course she’s ready, son.” Reverend Bush’s lips rounded into a smile. But she wasn’t fooled. His eyes said what his lips didn’t—that he was still watching, just waiting, already knowing that she would fall.
Reverend Bush said, “I have a meeting with Brother Hill right after, so I’ll take my car.”
“Hey, why don’t we just have him come with us?”
No, her insides screamed. Reverend Bush. Brother Hill. She’d be dead before they’d taken their first bite.
Reverend Bush shook his head. “He has plans, and besides,” he turned toward Jasmine, “I really want us to spend the time together. I want to know Jasmine the way you do.”
It was time to lie. Time to come up with some excuse. But even as Hosea chatted as they sped down Central Park West, Jasmine couldn’t think of a single reason to get away. All she could do was wonder if she would still have a relationship after Reverend Bush spent these next hours asking questions, studying her, and finally somehow discovering that she had been unfaithful to his son.
She trembled at that thought. “That’s impossible,” she whispered.
“What’d you say, darlin’?”
She hadn’t noticed that they’d arrived.
“Nothing.” She eased from the car and breathed deeply, inhaling courage. This was just her imagination. There was no way the reverend could look at her and see Brian. She would just be her normal, charming self and conquer the father’s heart the way she had the son’s.
Inside Tavern on the Green, Hosea spoke to the waitress while Jasmine stood to the side. “So we finally get the chance to spend some time together, don’t we, Jasmine?” Reverend Bush said when he stepped through the doors.
“Yes, Hosea really wanted this.” Not me, she almost added.
He grinned as if he knew something she didn’t. In silence, they both remembered her pursuit, his rejection, her threats, his promise.
“Well, I wanted this too,” he said. “Wanted the chance to talk. Get to know the person that you really are.”
His grin stripped away her confidence and gave her another vision: Reverend Bush, talking. Asking questions. Getting answers. Then, he’d receive a revelation from God. The reverend would rise to his feet, point his finger, and shout that she had been exposed. And then, he would reveal every one of her secrets.
By the time Hosea joined them, she needed to hold his hand just to stand. She moved on shaky limbs as they followed the hostess to their table.
I’ll never make it, she thought, as the scenario she’d imagined played over in her mind.
“Jasmine?”
“Darlin’,” Hosea stopped her and her thoughts. “That woman over there just called you.”
Jasmine followed Hosea’s glance and froze. She wanted to blink and with that motion, like the TV genie Jeannie, make the woman disappear.
“So, that is you, Jasmine. What are you doing in New York?” Alexis asked.
She wanted to ask her the same thing. But her lips wouldn’t move. All she could do was stare at Alexis Ward Lewis—the only person on earth that she could say she hated.
But as much as she hated Alexis, she kept her gaze planted on her and not on the man who shared her table. With Hosea and Reverend Bush by her side, she couldn’t face the man who made her do things she didn’t want to do.
“So, what are you doing in New York?” Alexis repeated.
“I…I live here,” Jasmine said. “What are you doing here?”
“We came for a convention,” Alexis said.
“Hello, I’m Hosea Bush,” he said, turning toward Alexis once it was clear that Jasmine had no plans of making an introduction. “And this is my father, Reverend Samuel Bush.”
Jasmine wanted to slap Alexis, the way she smiled at Hosea. But those thoughts went away when Brian stood.
“This is my husband, Brian Lewis. You remember him, don’t you, Jasmine?”
Brian said, “Of course Jasmine remembers me.”
Although she kept her eyes away from him, she could feel his smirk. He shook hands with Hosea, then the reverend. He saved Jasmine for last.
“How have you been, Jasmine?”
“Fine. We really—”
“So, you guys are friends of Jasmine’s?” Hosea asked as he put his arm around her shoulder.
“Friends is a stretch,” Alexis said. “But we’ve known each other for many years.”
The hostess interrupted, “Would you like to be reseated? I can arrange a table for five.”
“No.” Jasmine’s protest was so loud, others around them paused their conversations. She lowered her voice, “We’d prefer to keep our party to three.” She faced Alexis. “Good seeing you,” she said as if the three words were one, and then she rushed the hostess forward. She had to get to a chair before she collapsed.
At their table, she fell into her seat. Could this day be any worse?
Reverend Bush said, “They seem like nice people. How do you know them?”
You can do this, Jasmine.
“Met them when I lived in Los Angeles.”
&
nbsp; “I thought you lived in Florida.”
“I did. Right before I came to New York. But I was born and raised in L.A.”
“I didn’t know that,” the reverend said as if he thought there was some kind of secret in her words.
Reverend Bush looked at Alexis and Brian. “We should invite them to church.”
“No!” When Reverend Bush and Hosea both looked at her with raised eyebrows, Jasmine added in a lower voice, “They’re here for a convention. I’m sure they won’t be here next Sunday.”
Reverend Bush nodded. “True.” When he glanced again at Brian and Alexis, Jasmine crossed her arms. What is he looking for? she wondered. And then when he faced her with a stare that burned through her skin, she remained stoic, as if she weren’t about to die.
The time passed with conversation, but little of it from Jasmine. She heard Hosea speak, saw his father’s lips move, but she was not connected. She tried to smile, and chat, and keep her eyes away from Alexis and Brian. But every few seconds, her glance strayed to their table. She watched as they ate and held hands. She cringed when Brian leaned over and kissed his wife. And in her mind, that image faded, and she replaced Alexis with herself. And Brian’s lips were over hers. And his hands were again bringing her pleasure.
“Are you okay?” Reverend Bush frowned at Jasmine.
Her hand paused in midair. She hadn’t noticed that she was fanning herself. “I’m fine. Just a bit hot in here.”
She looked at Alexis and Brian again and begged God to make them go away.
God granted her prayer, and the couple stood. But she had no time to celebrate when the two turned their way.
“We wanted to say good-bye,” Brian said when they paused at their table. To Jasmine, he added, “It was good seeing you. Hey, give us a call if you’re ever in L.A.” To his wife he said, “Honey, give Jasmine one of your cards so she can get in touch with us.”
The way Alexis rolled her eyes, Jasmine knew Brian would pay later for that request. But still, Alexis rummaged through her purse.
“That’s a good idea,” Hosea piped in. “Jasmine’s in L.A. on business quite a bit.”
“Really?” Alexis stopped her search and peered as if Jasmine’s itinerary needed to be her business.
“I won’t be there anymore,” Jasmine said to Alexis. “Now that my club is open,” she turned her glance to Brian, “there’s no reason for me to return to Los Angeles.”
“Well then, I guess you won’t need my card.” Alexis half-smiled. “Honey, we really have to get going.”
Good riddance, Jasmine thought as the others exchanged good-byes. She breathed with relief until the reverend said, “Seems like you’re better friends with Brian than Alexis.”
“No,” Jasmine protested and prayed that his words hadn’t come from a vision. “I’m not friends with either of them,” she responded, keeping her glance on the barely touched lobster omelet on her plate.
As Hosea and his father continued their chatter, Jasmine said nothing. Silence kept trouble away. There was little chance of a conviction if she offered no evidence.
And her silence gave her time to wonder. Wonder about Brian. Wonder about his games. Wonder why he wanted to play when he had so much to lose. Just like she did.
When the waiter came to clear the table, Jasmine offered her plate, with no more than two bites taken from her omelet.
“You weren’t very hungry, were you, darlin’?” Hosea squeezed her hand.
She shook her head.
“Seems like you have a lot on your mind,” Reverend Bush said.
“Oh, no, that’s not it, Pops.” Hosea laughed. “Darlin’, don’t be mad, but I’ve gotta tell him. Pops, Jasmine was nervous about having lunch with you.”
“Really? And why would you be nervous, Jasmine?”
She said, “It’s just that in-law thing,” before she could think.
Reverend Bush raised his eyebrows. “In-law?” His glance volleyed between Hosea and Jasmine. “Son, is there something you haven’t told me?”
“No,” Jasmine said first. “I meant it’s hard to meet anyone’s parents.”
“Oh,” he said in a “thank God” kind of tone. “But it’s not like we’re meeting for the first time,” Reverend Bush continued.
“That’s what I told her, Pops. She sees you every Sunday.”
“Yes, and when Jasmine first came to City of Lights, she tried very hard to get me to have lunch with her,” he said to Hosea. Then to Jasmine, “So, I’m surprised this bothers you.”
Hosea frowned. “Really?”
It took a moment to force the lump away so that she could speak. “Yes,” Jasmine said, looking straight at Reverend Bush. “I wanted to be part of the church’s building committee.”
“Is that what you wanted to be part of?” Reverend Bush asked.
She wanted to just cry. “Yes, I had some great marketing ideas for you.”
“Is that what you had for me?”
“Pops.” Hosea laughed. “Stop teasing Jasmine. She’s already not feeling this.”
“I’m sorry, son.” The reverend chuckled. “You know how I am.” Then he said to Jasmine, “Sorry you’ve been uncomfortable. Maybe we can start over. Do this another day.”
I hope not, she thought. As Hosea paid the bill, she could feel his father’s eyes. But she kept hers away from him, just waiting, until she could leave, and breath. Her legs were Jell-O when Hosea took her hand and led her from the restaurant.
“Thanks for lunch, son,” the reverend said.
“I’m glad you got a chance to hang with us.”
Reverend Bush turned to Jasmine. “See you soon.”
“Definitely,” she said before she hurried into Hosea’s car.
Hosea jumped in beside her. “See, that wasn’t bad, was it?”
She smiled, said no, and didn’t bother to tell him that if he didn’t get her home quick, the carpet of his new SUV would be flooded with remnants of the little bit of food that she did eat.
In front of Jasmine’s apartment, Hosea said, “I’m not feeling too well.” He tapped his chest. “Feels like heartburn.”
“Do you think it was something you ate?”
“I don’t know.” He leaned across the console and kissed her cheek. “I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay?”
“That’s fine,” Jasmine said, more than ready to put an end to this day. She didn’t add that his father had made her sick too.
Four hours later, the afternoon sun had long ago departed, and Jasmine had done nothing more than change into an oversize T-shirt and park in front of the television. Inside her mind, images played like a Broadway production. Images of Brian and Alexis. Images of Brian alone. Images of Brian naked.
“Why am I doing this?” she screamed to the television. She didn’t even like Brian, but it was the love that she had for the way he felt—and the way he made her feel—that kept her obsessed. He was a demon who’d taken control of the worst part of her.
“Never again,” she told herself, as she watched a woman in a Lifetime movie beg her husband not to leave. “Never again.”
This time, she’d stand by her vow. There was little probability of seeing Brian. And if their paths did cross, she would fight Brian’s lust and think only of Hosea’s love.
With that promise, she flicked off the television, but she hadn’t taken two steps before the ringing telephone stopped her.
“Ms. Larson, you have a guest,” Henrikas said. He hesitated. “Mr. Brian Lewis.”
She couldn’t tell if the pounding came from her heart or her head.
“Ms. Larson?”
Tell him to go away, Jasmine. “He’s a doctor.” As soon as she spoke those senseless words, she realized they weren’t much of an explanation. Her doorman had already seen her with Brian. “Send him up,” she added in a whisper.
The self-berating began the moment she hung up. Why did I do that? she asked as she paced.
She decided that all she would do was ask
questions—find out what he wanted, why he was there—and then she’d send him back to his wife.
The moment she heard the elevator, she opened her door, making sure Mae Frances did not see her visitor.
Brian swaggered into her apartment as if he was supposed to be there.
“What do you want?” she asked the moment she closed her door.
He faced her with a grin. “Like you don’t know.”
She breathed deeply, initiating the fight within. “You don’t need to be here.”
“I know. But I’ve discovered that my needs and my wants are usually the same.” As if he had an invitation, he settled onto her couch and loosened his tie. “Nice place. I didn’t get a chance to check it out last time.” He stretched his arms along the sofa.
“Where’s your wife?”
“At a meeting.”
“Why aren’t you at the hotel waiting for her?”
“Because I wanted to see you.”
“Don’t tell me the great Alexis isn’t taking good care of her man,” she said, enjoying for the moment the fact that she could have Alexis’s husband anytime she wanted him.
“Oooh, your claws are showing, Jasmine.”
His leer reminded her that she was covered only in a thigh-long T-shirt. “I want you to go,” she said, regaining her resolve.
He chuckled. “If you didn’t want me here, why did you invite me up?”
“It wasn’t an invitation. I just wanted to know what you wanted.”
His face stretched with seriousness. “You want to know what I want?” He stood, moved toward her.
Jasmine backed up until she was pressed against the door. He leaned forward, one hand above her, setting his trap. “Remember last time?” he whispered. “This is exactly where I took you.”
She inhaled, took in his scent. Closed her eyes, remembered. “No,” she panted more to herself than him. “I…I…can’t do this.”
“Why not?” His tongue tickled her ear.
She tried to breathe in some sense, but longing, lust, dragged her away. Every muscle betrayed her, responding instantly to his touch. His hands, his lips took her hostage again. Took her away from what she knew was right. Made her do wrong.
A Sin and a Shame Page 17
