Heaven Forbid

by Lutishia Lovely

  “Her name is Sheila Covington.”

  “I don’t know her. Take a message.”

  “Ma’am, I’ll have to take a message, or I can put you through to our first lady’s voice mail. She is not available.”

  Ten minutes later, Passion walked out of her office. “Did the woman leave a message?” she asked her assistant, who responded that she had. As soon as Passion got into her car and put on her headset, she dialed the church’s voice mail system and punched in her code. There was only one new message. “My name is Sheila Covington. You don’t know me, but you may know my ex-husband, Bryce Covington. He’s a very close friend of your husband’s, and if you want him to remain your husband, you might want to keep him away from my ex. There’s no use leaving my number. If you don’t understand this message, you probably won’t call back, anyway, and if you do understand what I’m saying, then…you’ve been warned.”

  When Passion turned into her driveway, she was still trying to figure out the cryptic message that Sheila had left on her voice mail. Now she wished she’d taken the call. As the first lady of a prominent ministry, Passion often received calls from women she didn’t know, as well as from various ministries, charities, and social organizations. But in the three-plus years she’d taken calls at the office, she’d never had one like this. Why had Sheila Covington, Bryce’s ex-wife, called to warn her about his and Stan’s friendship?

  Passion’s thoughts continued as she went inside her home, changed clothes, and went to the kitchen. She took chicken from the refrigerator and rice from the pantry to begin dinner. Stan had rarely mentioned Bryce, who lived thousands of miles away from them anyway. Aside from their college days, there seemed to be little in common that he and Stan shared. Bryce hadn’t mentioned being in ministry, or even attending church for that matter. And while she’d enjoyed his loquacious conversation and model good looks, Passion couldn’t see Bryce fitting into the Lee lifestyle on a regular basis. His and Stan’s getting together had been a meeting for old time’s sake, nothing more. How could that be dangerous for her marriage? Was Bryce involved in something illegal? She knew Bryce was in politics. Was there a scandal brewing on the horizon?

  Conversation was light as Stan, who’d returned from Chicago several days prior, Passion, and Onyx ate a dinner that was commandeered largely by Onyx’s recap of her school day. After putting her daughter to bed, Passion tidied up the kitchen and put the leftover food in the refrigerator. It had been hours, and Sheila Covington’s out-of-the-blue phone call and enigmatic message made no more sense now than when she’d received it this afternoon. She had to find out what was going on, but how? The one time Bryce Covington had come up in conversation, after he’d called the house before the sun rose, an argument had ensued. I’ll just play it by ear. And in the meantime, I’ll do a search on Bryce Covington tomorrow, see what the Internet can tell me about him…and this Sheila chick too.

  “Dinner was good tonight, Passion.” Stan had finished his ablutions in the master-suite bathroom and now sat on the silk-covered bench at the end of their sleigh bed, taking off his socks. He had on his standard sleeping fare: an extra-large white T-shirt and equally large white boxers with thin black pinstripes. “Maybe we can have the associates and their wives over soon to enjoy your good cooking.”

  Passion warmed at the praise as she took off her robe, draped it across the foot of the bed, and climbed up on their king-sized mattress. She knew that Stan’s ex-wife, Carla, was known for her culinary skills, especially when it came to Southern cooking. Passion had eaten at Carla’s table and knew the hype was true. Carla was an excellent cook. So hearing Stan’s compliment was not only music to her ears, but it also gave her a way to bring Bryce into the discussion.

  “You know I love entertaining, Stan. So just tell me when and how many, and I’ll try my best to whip up something tasty. Speaking of dinner guests, how is your friend Bryce doing?”

  Stan was walking to the clothes hamper and stopped at Passion’s question. “Bryce? Why would you ask about him?”

  Passion tried to keep her face passive, her voice casual. She shrugged. “Nothing in particular. It’s just that he and his friend were two of the last guests we had over who weren’t church members, and I know that he also knew your friend in Chicago. Even though you haven’t discussed it, I could tell your friend’s death bothered you. You were quiet for a few days after returning from that trip.”

  Stan relaxed. It made perfect sense for Passion to ask about Bryce, precisely for the reasons she mentioned. Besides, Stan knew better than anybody what an unforgettable impression Bryce made on any and everyone with whom he came into contact. Passion was also correct about how quiet he’d been after returning from his time in Chicago with Eddie and his family before he died. The conversation regarding homosexuality that he’d had with Bryce had upset him more than he realized. He’d spoken with him only once since that trip, and that was strictly to discuss matters involving the Cathedral. Stan relayed this information to Passion.

  “I’ve decided to resign my position on the Cathedral’s board,” Stan said. “I’m spreading myself too thin professionally, and it’s leaving me almost no time for my family.” Stan crawled under the covers, lay on his back, and pulled the cover up to his chin. “I know I’ve been distant,” he continued, looking at the ceiling. “And I know I haven’t been as…intimate as you’d like. I’m going to try and do better, Passion. Please know that my lack of physical interest has nothing to do with you. I came up in a family where physical affection was discouraged, on all levels. My family was not demonstrative—no hugs, no kisses, even loud laughter was rare. We were extremely conservative, and, well, that’s just one of the reasons why I struggle with that part of our relationship. But I want you to know that I’m aware of the situation. And I’m going to do better.”

  Passion lay on her side of the bed, shocked. Stan had just opened up more in the past three minutes than he had in three years. It’s all she’d ever wanted, to be able to talk to her husband about their relationship, especially about what things weren’t working and why they weren’t working. Stan had always squashed such discussion before it even got started. Maybe, just maybe, they were turning a corner in their relationship, and Passion could have the healthy marriage she’d always wanted.

  Passion wanted to roll over and kiss her husband. She wanted to put her arms around him, snuggle her head to his chest, and fall asleep in his arms. But she knew this was a delicate moment, where one wrong move could change the mood and make Stan regret what he’d revealed. So she stayed on her side of the bed, and instead of hugging her husband, hugged her full-length body pillow, turned off the light on her nightstand, and whispered into the darkness, “Thanks for sharing with me, Stanley. I love you so much and want to be the supportive, understanding wife that you need. Knowing more about the experiences that shaped who you are helps me do that. Whenever you want to talk about…anything, I’m here—childhood, past hurts, rejections, whatever. I’ve got my share too. It will only help us get closer, Stan. Stan?”

  Passion became quiet and realized from his deep, even breathing that Stan had fallen asleep. Sleep always came easy for her husband, while slumber often eluded her until dawn. Passion hoped that tonight would not be one of those nights. But as she turned on her side and snuggled under the comforter, she remembered Sheila Covington’s cryptic words: If you do understand what I’m saying, then…you’ve been warned. This would be another night where sleep would not come easy for Passion.

  37

  Boyfriend and Best Friend

  “Princess, it’s me.”

  “Rafael?” Princess whispered into her cell phone even as she squinted at the clock. It was one in the morning, Pacific Standard Time, which meant that in Kansas it was three a.m. Immediately alarmed, she sat straight up in bed. “What’s the matter? Why are you calling so late?”

  “Me and Lauren just broke up.”

  “Ooh, boy, you just scared the mess out of me. I though
t someone had died.” Princess’s heart was pounding in her chest. She placed a hand over it and tried to calm down. She’d been on edge ever since getting the phone call about Kelvin’s near-death accident three weeks ago. As her heart quieted, she got out of bed and went into the bathroom so she wouldn’t wake Sarah, her new dorm mate. “So what, y’all just had a big fight or something?”

  “You can say that. She came over earlier, accusing me of something I didn’t even do.”

  “What’s her name?” Princess asked wearily.

  “Who?”

  “The woman Lauren thinks you’re cheating on her with.”

  “How’d you know that that is what it was?”

  “Because, Rafael, that’s always what it is.”

  Rafael sighed into the phone. “Aw, this other girl don’t mean nothing to me. We just get along well because we work together and both love politics. She has a boyfriend, and I told Lauren that. But she wants to play the paranoid female role, and that isn’t going to work with me. She was even jealous of you, and you’re almost two thousand miles away!”

  Princess knew this was true. She also knew that while nothing could drive a man away faster than a jealous woman, nothing could be more reliable than a woman’s intuition when it came to her man’s fidelity. “Were you cheating on her, Rafael? And remember, you’re not talking to Lauren—you’re talking to Princess.”

  “I know who I’m talking to.” Rafael’s voice took on a sultry, flirty quality. “I’m talking to my girl, from back in the day!”

  “Shut up, boy. I was never your girl.”

  “Oh, so junior and senior year in high school was just, what, my fantasy?”

  “No, that was real.” Princess became quiet. It had been a long time since she’d thought back to those fun, carefree days when she and Rafael were joined at the hip. When they’d finished with their extracurricular activities—sports and the debate team for Rafael, drill team and the school newspaper for Princess—the two would spend the rest of their free time together. Sometimes they’d drive to the Plaza or head to Gates Barbeque for short ends and chicken plates to go, and then drive to either Swope Park or Loose Park, where they’d eat and share dreams. On the weekends, friends would join them as they went roller-skating or to the movies. Sometimes Rafael and Princess would just hole up in either of their bedrooms and listen to their R&B/hip-hop favorites: Snoop Dogg, Kanye West, Destiny’s Child, and Fantasia. And while Princess left the relationship the same way she came in—a virgin—she not only counted Rafael as her boyfriend, but as her best friend as well.

  “I didn’t cheat on Lauren,” Rafael said firmly, mistaking the reason for Princess’s silence. “That’s what made me so mad. She’s accused me of cheating ever since we got together. And I was totally faithful to her. That kind of nagging makes a brothah want to go out and do what he’s being accused of doing anyway.”

  “Why do you think she didn’t believe you?”

  “Probably because it’s her butt that’s foul. I heard that she was rockin’ it with this dude in Kansas City. Some thug life situation. I heard that about a month ago and didn’t even sweat her on it because I trusted her.

  “But tonight? Me and my boys was sitting here chillin’, and she comes in all gangster and stuff, demanding to know where I was earlier and going into my bedroom like she paid rent, looking for somebody who I guess she’d been told was in here. It was downright embarrassing, Princess. I’m not trying to live with the female drama situation. I’ve got plans and I’m going places. I need a woman who’s going to be with me, not fight against me.”

  Again, the conversation lulled as both Princess and Rafael ruminated in their thoughts. Rafael had never stopped loving Princess and had been more crazy about her than he’d let on when they dated. Princess had always viewed Rafael more as a brother than a boyfriend, but she had always believed he was a good guy. She still did. She just didn’t have the depth of feeling for him that she felt one should for their man, like the way she’d felt about Kelvin, almost from the beginning.

  “So how’s your boy?” Rafael asked, as if reading her mind.

  “Who?”

  “Please, girl, don’t even try it.”

  “Okay, I guess. He’s recuperating at his father’s. They’ve hired a full-time nurse and a slew of specialists and therapists to try and help him, you know, get back to normal.”

  “I never cared much for old boy, especially after how he treated you, but it’s a hard thing that happened to him.”

  Princess agreed. It had been a hard thing that happened to Kelvin: in a coma for almost a week, a broken left arm, broken left leg, bruised spine, and a plethora of cuts and gashes. Princess, Joni, and Brandon had flown into Phoenix the day after his accident, but after an afternoon of prayer and one-sided conversations by his side, Princess had taken a red-eye back to Los Angeles. A side from the fact that she felt she’d done all she could, old feelings she thought dead and buried started to resurface, and after a stunning woman with an island accent arrived on the scene, Princess knew those feelings must stay buried. So she’d fled the scene and reimmersed herself in ministry.

  “Yeah, it’s hard,” Princess said with a yawn.

  “Look, it’s late. I probably should let you go.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a class at nine.”

  “So, Princess, when are you coming home?”

  “To Kansas?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know, sometime after graduation, I guess.”

  “You’re moving back here?”

  “I don’t know, Rafael. Why?”

  “Just asking.”

  “Well, get out my business and get some sleep.”

  “Princess…”

  “What?”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Princess.”

  “What, boy?”

  Rafael paused. “I love you.”

  38

  What’s Up?

  Kelvin strained against the weight of the pulley above his bed. His therapist had told him to take it easy when it came to maintaining strength in his upper body and right side, but Kelvin’s mind was focused on one thing only: next year’s season with the Phoenix Suns. He did a couple more repetitions and then fell back against the bed. The weights made a loud clanging noise as they fell to the bottom of the device. Kelvin wiped sweat from his brow with a fluffy white towel. He clenched his left fist and frowned at the cast that covered almost his entire left arm. His left leg was encased from his thigh to below his knee. Kelvin “the KP” Petersen looked a far cry from the ferocious ball-stealing, play-making, point-scoring guard for which he was known. Now he looked like what he was: a beat-up, scruffy twentysomething, carrying the weight of the world.

  Kelvin reached for a pair of massage balls and twirled them slowly as he contemplated his life. He couldn’t believe he was where he was: flat on his back instead of practicing for the game tonight. The Nuggets were huge rivals on any given day, but with him injured, the teams were swirling like vultures, each team counting the Suns out, trying to lock up the western conference early. It rankled more than a little that his point-guard replacement, Guy Harris, was doing very well and had scored double digits in the last several games. Kelvin deduced that Fawn thought she was doing well, too—Kelvin had seen her sitting in the section reserved for girlfriends. It didn’t surprise him that Fawn was dating a married man. Wherever there was bling, she’d hang around. And while he felt sorry for Guy’s wife and newborn baby, he was also grateful. The nanny had dropped off Little Kelvin for his last visits, and he hadn’t talked to Fawn in over a month.

  Which brought his thoughts to Stephanie, the Caribbean queen who’d made him smile again. As if on cue, his phone rang. It was her on the line.

  “I was just thinking about you, baby.”

  “You only think about me now, or you haven’t stopped thinking about me?”

  Kelvin laughed. “I’m always thinking about you.”
He loved Stephanie’s sense of humor, and the sexy lilt of her voice, the way she clipped certain words and left out others altogether. He wasn’t in love with her, but he was definitely “in like.” And while he enjoyed staying in the lavish Montgomery abode, especially since they’d practically redecorated a wing to accommodate his hospital bed and training machines, he couldn’t wait to get back to Phoenix and to Stephanie. “So, what’s up? Are you coming to see me this weekend? I can put you up at the Beverly Hills Hotel. It’s not far from the house. You’ll get to meet the one and only reverend extraordinaire, Derrick Montgomery, and his lovely wife, Vivian. And I’m telling you now, my little brother, D2, is going to fall in love with your fine ass so—”

  “Kelvin!”

  “What, ma?”

  Stephanie hesitated. “I’m not coming to Los Angeles.”

  “I understand, baby. After all, it was short notice. But no worries, the ticket is fully changeable, and we can change the dates on your room as well.”

  “That’s not what I mean, Kelvin!” Stephanie’s voice was more clipped than usual, each word enunciated fully. She paused a moment and then said the words she dreaded saying. “I’m going home.”

  “To the Bahamas?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, baby, but chill out. How long are you going to be gone for?”

  “That’s just it, Kelvin.” Stephanie was crying now. “I’m moving back home, to stay. It’s all happened so suddenly, but there is some kind of major controversy going on in the government, a scandal that involves my father. He’s totally innocent, understand, but it’s putting a horrible strain on my mom and our businesses, and, well, we had a family conference call last night, and it was decided that we would…circle the wagons, as you Americans say. My brother is coming back from Paris, my sister from Geneva, and I’m flying home tomorrow. It’s a one-way ticket, Kelvin. I’m so sorry.”

  Kelvin was a bundle of emotions. The one bright cloud on his horizon had been the burgeoning relationship he saw happening with this woman. Being with her was one of the things that motivated him to work so hard to return to physical perfection—his livelihood as a professional athlete notwithstanding. Kelvin was disappointed and did little to hide this fact.