Fortune & Fame: A Novel

by Murray, Victoria Christopher

  It had been a devastating blow to Natasia because this was the plan that was supposed to work. So, what was she to do now? The question had kept her up all of Friday night. But then yesterday, Jasmine had really slashed Natasia’s heart.

  After they’d wrapped the day’s filming, Jasmine had walked up to Natasia, grabbed her arm, and jerked her around to face her.

  “I know your game,” Jasmine snapped.

  Natasia looked down to where Jasmine still held her elbow, and then her gaze rose to meet Jasmine’s. It was only when she stared Jasmine down that Jasmine finally let go. Still, Natasia took a few steps back from Jasmine before she asked, “What game, Jasmine?”

  Her eyes had narrowed as she said, “What you’re trying to do. How you’re trying to get to Hosea.”

  Natasia sighed as if she thought Jasmine’s words were so middle school. “Paranoia is so unattractive, and such a character flaw. You really should have that checked out because all I’m doing is my job.”

  “Yeah, right.” Jasmine folded her arms and peered at Natasia as if she was searching inside her, trying to read her motives. “Why did you decide to do this reality show anyway?”

  “It’s none of your business, but if you must know, I’m not doing it because of you. The world doesn’t revolve around you and Hosea.”

  “Well, your world seems to because you’re always trying to find your way into our lives.”

  “Always?” Natasia laughed. “Please; I’ll say it again, I’m just doing my job.”

  “I thought your job was news. I thought you were a serious newswoman.”

  “I am.”

  “Well, reality TV doesn’t seem to be the place for you,” Jasmine said. “You can’t even handle me and Rachel, not to mention Rachel and Mary. I think you need to go back where you came from.”

  “See, there you go again, Jasmine. Thinking . . . it doesn’t work for you, so maybe you should just give it up. Give up thinking for Lent or something.”

  “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Jasmine didn’t wait for Natasia to respond. Instead, she took a step closer and warned, “Stay away from Hosea.”

  Natasia hadn’t even blinked.

  Jasmine said, “When I told him that you were here—”

  Natasia blinked. “You told him?” she asked. Natasia had never been sure if Jasmine would or wouldn’t talk to Hosea.

  “Of course,” Jasmine said, with wide eyes. “He’s my husband. I tell him everything. I told him the day I saw you at the OWN offices. And when I told him you were here, he was as disgusted and as furious as I was.” She paused and lowered her eyes, then bit the corner of her lip as if a new thought had just come to her mind. “In fact, you’re the reason why he won’t take part in the show.”

  “What?” Natasia asked, unable to hide her shock.

  “Yeah. Melinda was right. I did say that Hosea would do it, but when he found out you were part of it, he decided against it. Because he knows what I know . . . that this is just a trick to get next to him.”

  Just those words had weakened her knees.

  “So, give it up, Natasia, once and for all. Hosea and I have been through a lot together. You . . . and then . . .” Jasmine had stopped, but Natasia knew what she was thinking about. Their daughter, Jacqueline, and the kidnapping.

  Hosea had contacted her during that time. She’d still been so angry at him for having her fired that all she’d done was hang up on him. If she’d only known then what she knew now.

  “We’ve been through a lot,” Jasmine repeated. “And we’re still together. And we will be, no matter what you try to do.”

  Natasia had chuckled lightly, then walked away from Jasmine, as if nothing she said mattered. But she’d had to pray that her knees would hold up and not betray her. Not show just how much Jasmine and her words had shaken her.

  She’d been rattled for real. Natasia had seen every hour go by last night, and now it was—she lifted her head again—6:24 and she still had not closed her eyes.

  It was the battle that was going on within that had kept her awake. During the first hours of the night, Natasia had started to believe that maybe she should do what Jasmine had said. Maybe she should go back to Chicago and not even try to bring Hosea into this.

  But by the time the clock had ticked past three in the morning, her heart overcame her thoughts. Why should she go away without seeing Hosea when she didn’t have any other choices? She could never go through this alone.

  Then, it came to her. The solution was as clear as this new morning seemed to be.

  When Jasmine had said no to a crew coming to her church, Natasia had settled on sending the cameras to Pleasant City with Mary and Nathan. But just because she wouldn’t be filming Hosea, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t go to his church.

  Natasia pushed herself up and swung her legs over the bed. Another quick glance at the clock told her it was 6:32. She was moving much slower these days, but getting up this early meant that she didn’t have to rush. Two and a half hours. That was enough time to make it to the Sunday services at City of Lights–Atlanta. Two and a half hours was all that separated her and Hosea.

  * * *

  There were so many signs that this was where Natasia was supposed to be. Like when the usher escorted her to the seventh row, on the right side of the church. That’s the row she used to sit in when she’d first met Hosea at Crystal Lake Cathedral in Chicago during his early days as a pastor.

  Then, the praise team came out and sang her favorite song, “My Help,” written by a childhood friend, Jacqueline Gouche. Natasia had raised her hands and proclaimed the words of the song. “All of my help cometh from the Lord,” she’d sang.

  But the most powerful sign was Hosea’s message.

  It had been hard enough to listen to him. From the moment he had strolled onto that altar, with all of that Godly swag, he’d taken her breath away. She’d stared at him, mesmerized as if she’d never seen him before, but of course, she had. She’d known Hosea in the most intimate ways. And if she’d had her way, she would’ve grown old with him by her side.

  But somewhere in the middle of their wonderful relationship, not too long after he’d given her an engagement ring, he’d told her that all that they’d had; that the life they’d lived together, the love they’d shared, had been a lie. He’d told her that she wasn’t the woman God provided for him.

  That was the biggest lie of all. Of course, she was the woman he should’ve been with . . . and now, there were all these signs to prove it.

  “And the peace I give,” Hosea’s voice boomed through the cathedral, “is a gift that the world cannot give. So, don’t be troubled or afraid.”

  The tears were already in her eyes, but now they flowed like a faucet as Natasia wrapped her arms across her chest and rocked back and forth.

  “No, church,” Hosea shouted. “There is no reason to let your hearts be troubled. There is no reason to have fear in any part of you! I’m telling you what I know, the Lord will handle it if you give it to Him.”

  Natasia had to hold her breath so that she wouldn’t begin to sob outright. That was the only way she could hold back all of this emotion.

  She couldn’t believe that Hosea’s words were getting to her like this. After Hosea had left her, she’d left God. But the recent developments in her life had driven her back to the Lord’s house, and God must’ve been pleased. Because in church in Chicago, she’d been receiving the strength she needed to make it through the days.

  But though she’d heard many great messages over the last few months, nothing compared to Hosea’s, which was music to her ears now. He had just preached from her favorite chapter in the Bible—John 14.

  They had studied that chapter word-for-word when they’d been engaged, and whenever Hosea read any of those words aloud while holding her in his arms, she knew there was not a more spiritual place to be. She was with God. And she was with the man she loved.

  That had been a long-ago feeling, but s
itting in Hosea’s new church, she felt that today. She felt that Hosea had reached out into the congregation and put his arms around her even though he didn’t know she was there. Or maybe he did know. Maybe because they had once been so connected, he knew in his heart that she was there.

  “And now, saints,” Hosea said, “I feel like I need to open up the doors of the church right now. I feel like there is someone here who really needs to know that his or her heart must not be troubled. They should not be afraid.” Hosea took two steps down from the altar and held up his right hand, beckoning the congregation. “Come to me,” he said. “I want to pray for you. I want to pray and let you know that the Lord is with you. The Lord will give you a gift that the world cannot give.” He paused and peered out into the sanctuary. “Come, let me pray with you and for you.”

  Then, Hosea stood silent, though his hand was still raised. He motioned to the director of music and before the first three notes were played on the keyboard, Natasia stood and stumbled over the three people to her left. Now, she was sobbing—it was hard to walk and hold her breath at the same time.

  But her tears, her snot, her bawling did not shame her. Because this was where she was supposed to be.

  Even though she was almost completely blinded by her tears, she could see Hosea waiting at the foot of the altar for her. And she was halfway to him when she saw the recognition register on his face.

  His one arm was in the air, but now he raised the other, holding both arms to her, summoning her to come closer, letting her know that he was waiting for her. By the time she staggered to him, Natasia’s cries were louder than the music that filled the sanctuary and she fell into his arms.

  Behind her, Natasia was sure that many in the congregation were standing, holding out their hands, reaching toward her and praying. But it was the gasp that was almost as loud as a scream behind her that let her know there was one among them who wouldn’t utter a single prayer on her behalf.

  She hadn’t thought about Jasmine since she’d walked into the church. And really, she wasn’t thinking about her now.

  “Natasia,” Hosea whispered into her ear, even as he held her. “What are you doing here?”

  She trembled and he held her tighter.

  “Natasia,” he called her name again. It wasn’t until he put his gentle fingers under her chin and lifted her face that she looked at him once again. He was so close, this felt so personal. She stared into the face of this sweet, gentle man.

  “Hosea,” she gulped out his name. “Hosea, I need you to pray for me,” she cried.

  “All right,” he said. “You know I always pray specifically. So, what is it you want? What is it you need? What prayers do you want me to speak on your behalf?”

  “I need to you pray, I need you to ask God . . . to give me peace. Because Hosea . . . I’m dying.”

  Chapter

  TWELVE

  Mary

  Nathan’s plan was falling right into place. Mary still didn’t feel good about this whole scenario, but the look on her husband’s face told her that for Nathan, this was the next best thing to Heaven.

  “And church,” Nathan said, pounding the podium, “Let me tell you that the Word of God is almighty.”

  Nathan was on fire. And this was more than his usual blaze. He was doing it up for the cameras.

  Mary glanced over to one of the cameramen, who had zoomed in to her husband. She was just happy to have the stupid thing off her. Personally, Mary had been hoping they’d go to that uppity ATM-in-the-sanctuary, helicopter-in-the-garage, new megachurch Jasmine and her husband, Hosea, had just opened here in Atlanta. It made sense for the show to get their church footage from there, because Mary still wasn’t completely on board. But Jasmine had shut that idea down. Mary didn’t know what it was, but something about that producer lady, Natasia, seemed to get under Jasmine’s skin. So, when Natasia had suggested shooting at Hosea’s church, Jasmine wasn’t having it. And of course, Nathan, who had been hanging around the set every single day, stepped up and quickly offered up Pleasant City.

  “It’s no megachurch,” he’d told Natasia. “But we do have a few celebrities that attend and you’ll get some great video.”

  Mary had wanted to protest, but Nathan reminded her of the bigger picture, the goal that they were working toward—bringing Lewis home. In fact, that’s what he called it: Operation Bring Lewis Home.

  Mary smiled. She wasn’t a fool. She knew her husband was playing this up for his moment of fame, but she was willing to do whatever it took to get her baby back.

  “It’s time for Take It to the Altar!” Nathan exclaimed.

  Take It to the Altar? Now, he’d given altar call a name?

  “Come lay your problems at the feet of the Lord,” Nathan exclaimed, motioning toward the altar.

  One by one, several people started filing up. Mary knew some of them were just trying to get on TV because she had never seen this many people come up during altar call.

  The madness of it all was unsettling.

  “Sister Frazier,” Nathan said, waving Mary up, “can you come pray for these lost souls?”

  Really, Nathan? She wanted to say. But she slowly stood and made her way to the front. She did the obligatory smile since she saw the camera zoom in on her.

  “Yes, yes. Come one, come all, bring your problems to the altar,” Nathan continued.

  Nathan motioned for Mary to stand next to a young woman who was one of the first to come forward.

  “Sister, what’s your story?” he asked, walking over to where they stood.

  The woman wiped the crocodile tears that were streaming down her face. “I come today, standing in the need of prayer,” she began to a chorus of “amen”s.

  She sniffed and continued. “I’m in love with a married man and he’s in love with me.”

  Several people shook their heads as chatter filled the sanctuary.

  “We know it’s wrong, but we can’t help it,” she continued. “And the bad part is he’s a man of God.” She looked around the church. “Not anyone at this church, though,” she added, managing a faint laugh.

  Mary tensed at her words because they mirrored the ones she’d said the first time she had attended Lester Adams’s church.

  “You are in the right place,” Nathan said as the camera panned over to him. He took Mary’s hand and put it in the woman’s. Something about this all seemed so wrong. It’s like they were putting on a show for the Lord.

  “Sister, I’m going to let my wife, Sister Frazier, handle this because she has lived your story.” He threw his hands up. “Hallelujah! She was once where you are, crawling in the depths of despair, chasing after a married minister.”

  Mary struggled to contain her expression. Was Nathan really about to put her on Front Street like this?

  He ignored Mary as he continued. “My wife chose to share her shame on the altar just like you.” He turned to face the church. “Because where else should you shed all shame? Jesus says come as you are, flaws and all! Let the church say amen!”

  The woman squeezed Mary’s hand tighter and she had to struggle to keep from toppling over. She couldn’t believe Nathan was doing this to her.

  He turned back to the congregation. “We’re not ashamed! You got to be tested to have a testimony and my wife has been tested.” He took the woman’s other hand and held it up. “She’s like you, sister. Her blatant disrespect of someone else’s marriage vows led her down a disastrous path and even landed her in prison. But guess what? The devil is a lie! God reached down in the gutter and pulled her up. And He’ll do the same for you!”

  If Mary could have reached over and slapped her husband at that very moment, she would have. She understood what he was trying to do but she definitely couldn’t appreciate him doing it at her expense.

  Nathan looked at Mary. “Sister Frazier, I’m not gonna ask you to speak out because I know how painful that time was, but I’m gonna just ask you to pray with God’s child here. Just pray that she c
an be delivered just like you were.”

  Mary saw both of the cameras zoom in on her. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, but only because she didn’t want the cameras to capture her tears.

  Nathan led the prayer, then took a few more “confessions.”

  Mary was all too thankful to go back to her seat after the altar show, because that definitely wasn’t an altar call. That was a bona fide parade of fools. It’s like everyone that came up tried to one-up the person who’d come before them. She’d never seen so many people claim to be in need of prayer. The whole scenario made her sick to her stomach.

  Nathan finally wrapped up the service—and only after seeing the cameramen start to pack up. Mary was seething, so she didn’t even bother waiting on the benediction. She rose and stomped back to Nathan’s study. This time, she didn’t wait for him to come into the office. Mary met him in the hallway. He had the audacity to look proud of himself.

  “You know what?” Mary fumed as he approached her. “I don’t need to worry about Rachel, because you are doing a pretty good job of turning me back into the fool that I once was!”

  Nathan looked shocked, like he couldn’t believe her anger. Prison had left Mary a shell of her former self, but Nathan was bringing her back to who she used to be, and she didn’t want to go there.

  “Babe, what’s wrong with you?”

  Mary knew that she had been passive over the past year, but this was enough to push anybody over the edge. “Are you seriously asking me that? After the way you just threw me under the bus?”

  “Oh, that.” He laughed. “Sweetie, that was all for the cameras. Shoot, that woman was an actress. Pretty good, don’t you think?” He actually leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “You know we have to play it up or else we will end up on the cutting room floor.”

  “So, you really hired someone to lie at the altar?” She was dumbfounded but Nathan didn’t seem fazed.

  “Yep, I figured it was a great way to weave your back story in. I know, brilliant, right?”

  His ambivalent attitude was making her even angrier. “When I agreed to do this, I had no idea you were going to put my business out there like that,” Mary snapped.