by Rhonda Bowen
Germaine was about to protest, but his mother sent him a warning look that got him out of his chair and halfway to the door without her saying another word.
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he said anxiously. Jules bit back a smile as she followed him out of the room.
They walked in silence through the hallway and out a side exit of the hospital into an open courtyard set up with elegantly chiselled stone benches and tables for hospital patients and visitors.
As they sat down at a table near the grass, Jules leaned back on her hands and breathed in deeply the crisp mid-morning air. It was the middle of October, but they were having one of those unseasonably warm fall days, characteristic of Toronto’s unpredictable weather. It was a perfect day to be outside, and Jules couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather be out there with.
“I can’t believe I’ve worked at this hospital for almost four years, and I’ve never sat out here,” Jules said, looking around the courtyard.
“That’s ‘cause you’re always too busy,” Germaine said between bites. Jules mentally commended herself for packing a large helping.
“You sound like my mother.”
“How are things between you two?” he asked, just before taking another bite out of the giant omelette Jules had brought him.
“Good,” Jules said thoughtfully. “I finally got up the nerve to talk to her.”
She bit her bottom lip, resisting the urge to spill her guts to him.
“Tell me about it.”
She looked up at him suddenly. She should have known he would read her mind.
Before she could stop herself, she was telling him everything, from the big fight she’d had with Momma Jackson to the long talk they’d had just hours ago.
“You know, if it wasn’t for your words banging around in my head, I never would have talked to her,” Jules said.
“Well, I’m glad I could be of some use to you,” Germaine said, smirking, as he rested his forearms on the table and looked over at her. “And by the way, thank you. With Truuth gone, I didn’t expect anyone to show up last night.”
“Yeah, well, you know me,” Jules said. “Always trying to fix something.”
Germaine smiled. “Believe it or not, I actually miss that.”
Jules looked down at her jeans and began to scratch her nail against the coarse material.
“I miss you too,” he added quietly.
She drew in a sharp breath and looked across to the other side of the courtyard.
A slight breeze was rustling the leaves of the crab apple trees that lined the hospital’s east side. The sun was almost directly overhead, and its rays were peeking through the leaves, forming little pools of sunlight on the ground.
“Jules?”
She felt Germaine take her hand. She didn’t resist when he pulled her closer or when he gently turned her face toward him.
“Look at me, Jules.”
Obediently, she lifted her eyes to his. They were glowing for her. And she was falling for him. Just like she always did.
“Germaine!” Out of nowhere, long, slim coffee brown arms engulfed Germaine, knocking him slightly off balance. “I’ve been looking all over the hospital for you! What are you doing out here?”
“Hi to you too, Maxine,” Germaine said, laughing at her enthusiasm.
Jules saw him sneak a glance over at her, but she had already slid away and started gathering her things together.
She saw the look in his eyes. She knew that look. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t change the fact that they both wanted things that the other wasn’t prepared to give. And it couldn’t put their broken relationship back together again. In fact, all it had done was remind Jules of how much she had lost.
A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over Jules. Between seeing her mother and being with Germaine, the day had left her feeling drained. She just wanted to go home and spend the weekend curled up under her soft feather duvet.
She looked across at Maxine, who was fussing over Germaine, and showering him with questions about whether or not he had eaten, or taken a shower, or gotten some sleep. Jules could tell that she was genuinely concerned for him.
Since he had come back into Truuth’s life, Maxine had adopted Germaine as her family, just like she had Truuth. That was what you had to love about Maxine—even though she was a tiny thing, her heart was huge.
Jules watched the two of them like a stranger watching a family through their living room window. She heard Maxine tell Germaine that Truuth was inside with Germaine’s mother and that she had gone looking for Germaine in order to give Truuth some time alone with his aunt.
Germaine tried to tell Maxine that she didn’t have to fuss over him, but Jules could tell that he enjoyed being taken care of. She was glad that there was someone there taking care of him, though she wished it was her. She tried hard to push back the feelings of jealousy that were stabbing at her heart.
“You’re leaving?” Germaine asked suddenly, as he saw Jules walk away.
“Yeah,” Jules said, forcing a smile. “Your family is here now, so …”
So you don’t need me anymore.
“Tell your mom and sister I said bye,” Jules said, barely turning around. She didn’t think she could look him in the eye without breaking.
“Thanks for being here, Jules,” Maxine said.
Jules tried to fight her annoyance. Suddenly Maxine’s selfassumed role of family spokesperson was getting on her nerves.
“I’ll see you guys later.”
With her bags and her broken heart in her hands, Jules walked briskly out of the courtyard, into the hospital, and through the corridors toward the parking lot.
This time, she didn’t bother to look back.
Chapter 24
“So I’ve been thinking about that thing you said a while back.”
“What thing?” Jules asked, her eyes half-closed. It was Saturday afternoon after church, and both she and Easy were sitting on Sis Crawford’s porch, lazily watching the wind rustle the begonias in the backyard. Jules had spent the entire day with Easy, trying to forget the crazy day she’d had with Germaine and his family only a few hours before. So far it had been working.
They had just stuffed themselves with a lunch of pumpkin rice, chicken stewed in okra, potato salad, and corn bread, and now they could barely move. The cool afternoon breeze signaled that they were well into fall, but it was not chilly enough to keep them inside.
Jules yawned. She knew she should probably have been getting ready to go back to church for the evening’s youth service, but the caress of sleep was too tempting to resist. She could barely will her brain to focus on what Easy was saying, much more prepare to leave.
“The God thing.”
Jules opened one eye and peered over at Easy, who was still reclined in his own chair, his eyes closed as if he was asleep.
“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific,” Jules said.
Over the past couple months, she and Easy had had multiple conversations about “the God thing.” They would start randomly, like this one, with questions like, “Why would God bother with someone like me?” or “How can I know that God was really listening?” before escalating into a long discussion.
When Easy brought up the subject of God, there was no telling where it would go. But Jules was happy that he seemed to be bringing it up more and more often.
“You were saying something about God working things out for those that follow Him,” Easy continued thoughtfully, with his eyes still closed, and his feet still resting casually on the porch railing.
“Uh-huh,” Jules answered cautiously. She knew there would be a question coming soon.
“Does that mean then that God only takes care of Christians?”
Jules smirked. She knew a lot of Christians, including herself, who wondered on occasion if God was taking care of them at all.
“No, it doesn’t mean that,” Jules answered. “The Bible says that He makes the sun to rise
on both the good and the evil, meaning that He sends His blessings on everyone. God doesn’t discriminate with the good tidings.”
“So what’s the difference between being a Christian and not being a Christian then?”
“It’s the difference between chocolate cake and mud pie.”
“Huh?”
“Let me explain,” she said, sitting up in her chair and turning to face her friend, who was looking at her curiously.
“Life is like making a cake,” Jules began. “God gives us all the same ingredients, and He also gives us the book with instructions. Now if we choose to follow the instructions, then when we put the ingredients together, in the right proportion, and bake them at the right temperature, we get a great tasting cake.”
“But if we decide not to follow the instructions and instead use our own proportions for the ingredients, or even add things to the recipe that God asks us not to, then we end up with …”
“… a hot mess,” Easy finished.
“Exactly,” Jules said, smiling. “God is like the master pastry maker, and the Bible is like our baking cookbook. Some people don’t want to follow God’s plan for their lives because they think it’s too hard, or it’s not what they want for themselves. Most times they end up making a mess of things. Even when it might look like they’re doing well on the outside, they’re usually not.
“But those who choose to follow God’s will for their lives, to serve Him completely, they are the ones who end up with the winning product at the end. It might take longer, and the process might be harder, but the end result is always well worth it.”
Easy rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered Jules’s analogy.
“So things are really better when you’re doing it the God way, huh?”
“Yup,” Jules replied, nodding. “It might not always look that way, but it is.”
“How can you be sure?”
Jules sighed. Every conversation they had about God always came back to this very question. How can you be sure?
“You can’t,” Jules said. “You have to take it by faith. And then you test God to see if He’s true.”
“Test God, Jules?”
Jules laughed. “I know it sounds weird, but God Himself says we should. In the Bible where it talks about tithes, He says we should prove Him, and see if He doesn’t bless us for our faithfulness.
“That’s how your faith grows. You trust God, and let Him prove that He will take care of you. Believe me, it works every time.”
Easy was quiet again. In fact he was silent for so long that Jules began to wonder if he had gone off to sleep.
“All right.”
“All right what?” Jules asked. She had returned to her original position in Sis Crawford’s deck chair and was enjoying a cool breeze that was sweeping across the porch.
“I want to do it,” Easy said decidedly. “I want to let God run things for me, and see how it turns out.”
Jules’s heart began to beat faster, and she sat up suddenly and looked at Easy, to see if he was joking. He wasn’t.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Easy? Are you saying you want to give your life to God?”
Easy shrugged and looked at Jules simply. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I see how He’s been taking care of Grams, and you and ‘Dre and even Truuth. It’s like you guys never worry, even when things ain’t right. I want that.”
Jules was so excited she could barely stay still.
“Oh, I’m so glad, Easy,” she said, almost knocking him and his chair over as she flung her arms around him.
“Baby girl … can’t … breathe …”
Jules grinned and let go of Easy, leaning back against the porch railing instead.
“You won’t regret it, Easy.”
He nodded slowly. “I have a feeling you might be right.”
Chapter 25
“Why do you want this?”
Jules crossed and uncrossed her legs nervously as she sat in the VP’s office. It had been four weeks since her dismissal, and they had finally called her in for an evaluation to determine what would happen next with her job. But Jules felt as if she was interviewing for her position all over again. She almost wished they would fire her and get it over with. It would be better than sitting here, on the verge of a panic attack, trying to figure out the right answer to a silly interview question.
However, Jules had to admit that of late she had been asking herself that same question. Why did she want the job?
The money was good. But that wasn’t what was motivating her. She had always wanted to work in PR and communications, and that was what kept her going. But lately working at Toronto Grace had been more stressful than enjoyable. She had once heard someone say, love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life. Well, this job had felt a lot like work lately, and she was beginning to doubt if she really loved it.
But now wasn’t the time for self evaluation. Thomas Donnelly of the hospital’s executive team was looking at her impatiently over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses, and Jules knew if she wanted this job, she would have to work for it.
But what if she didn’t want it? Then what?
There were no other prospects in the near future, and while she would love to have the luxury of taking some time off to figure everything out, she knew her bank account and bills wouldn’t allow it.
But what if this wasn’t what God wanted her to be doing?
That, more than any other, was the thought that seemed to be nagging Jules more and more. What if He had a bigger plan in store for her?
“I want this job because I am good at it,” Jules said decisively. “You need someone who knows this hospital—who knows the things that can’t be put on paper. Someone who is familiar with the hospital’s stakeholders and who has the training and experience needed to communicate with them in a way that ensures that the hospital continues to have a mutually beneficial relationship with each different group.
“I am that person.”
Jules leaned forward and looked sincerely into the doubtful eyes of the aging gentleman.
“Sir, I know this hospital has been going through a lot of changes lately. With the restructuring and the recent strike, you need to have someone in your public relations department who can assure staff, board members, and patients that this hospital is, and will continue to be, a strong part of the community both now and in the many years to come.
“You can’t do that with a new person who knows nothing about our culture. You need someone who your stakeholders are familiar with and who is familiar with them. You need someone who has a proven record of success. That person is me.”
Jules took a deep breath and sat back. She had done her best. Now it was out of her hands.
Donnelly took off his glasses and rubbed them with a tiny piece of velvet, before putting them back on. He sighed wearily and looked up at Jules.
“I’ll tell you, Ms. Jackson, just the thought of having to hire an entire new department is enough to give me a headache. I think we’ll just stick with what we have for now.”
Jules smiled.
“Thank you, sir. You won’t be sorry.”
She paused and looked at the VP carefully.
“I do have one more thing to ask however.”
A few moments later, Jules walked out of the office with her job back in place and authorization to bring Michelle back in and hire a new employee. She couldn’t believe her luck. She had been begging for extra staff for months, and now she finally had it. It seemed that everything with work was going exactly how she would have planned it.
So why wasn’t she happier about it? And why was there this unsettling feeling in her stomach that wouldn’t go away?
Swinging her purse lazily, she walked out of the elevator she had taken down to the ground floor and slid into a seat in the hospital café. After a moment she realized it was the same seat she had sat in the first time she’d had lunch with
Germaine. She rubbed her eyes wearily. It seemed like she couldn’t go more than a couple of hours without thinking about him.
Her thoughts drifted back to that first day. What she wouldn’t give to go back to that moment and start all over again, knowing what she knew now. She would do so many things differently.
She smiled as she remembered how passionate he had been as he talked about the Sound Lounge. She wondered what it would be like to be so passionate about something. The only thing that came close was the satisfaction she got working with Truuth to promote his album. Every time an event came off well, or they got a good review, or someone sent an e-mail to the Web site saying that Truuth’s music had changed him or her, Jules felt something move inside her. What she wouldn’t give to feel that way all the time.
She sat up suddenly.
That was it.
That was what she should be doing. But as soon as the idea came, so did the doubts. How could she make a living off freelance artist promotion? It would be almost like being an independent consultant. There would be no steady salary, no health benefits, and no pension plan. Just a lot of budgeting, business planning, and bad debt. And of course there was that widely circulated statistic that nine out of ten new businesses failed within the first year.
Still, Jules couldn’t help but notice that her fingers tingled at the thought of going it on her own. There were so many things that could go wrong. But there were so many things that could go right too.
There was so much to think about.
Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and rested her hands and head on the table.
Lord, I don’t know what to do. My mind is telling me one thing, but my heart wants to do another. I just want to do Your will for my life. Show me Your way, I pray. Amen.
“Jules? Is that you?”
Jules opened her eyes and looked up from the table.
“Sharifa!” she said, smiling. She stood up and embraced the tall, voluptuous woman.
Sharifa Johns was a publicist Jules had met while working for Truuth. She was the organizer for the annual Gospel Explosion concerts, and, when she wasn’t doing that, she was representing artists like Lilly Goodman, Cassandra Sommers, and Ricky Dillard. There were even rumors floating around in the industry that she had worked with God’s Property and Kiki Sheard while in the States. But Jules wasn’t sure how true that was.