“Hey, babe,” she whispered. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“How could you?” He took their sleeping daughter from her arms. “Mrs. Sloss said you fell asleep in here holding Jacquie, and she didn’t want to wake you. She said you looked so peaceful.”
As Hosea laid their daughter to rest in her bed, Jasmine massaged her temple with her fingertips. Her sleep had been anything but peaceful. Instead, her unconsciousness had been crammed with images of her past, images from the summer of ’83.
After he covered Jacqueline, Hosea pulled Jasmine up from the rocking chair and held her hand until they were in their bedroom.
“I missed you today,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to come home.” And stay away from you, she added inside.
Today was the first day in almost six weeks since Reverend Bush had been shot that she hadn’t gone to the hospital. How could she? How was she supposed to face Hosea with the blackmail letter so fresh in her mind? One look in her eyes, and he would have known.
Now she hoped that enough hours had passed so that he couldn’t see, wouldn’t feel the stress she’d been carrying for twenty-four hours.
But then he asked, “What’s wrong, Jasmine?”
Inside, she sighed. She would have stayed away from him longer if she could, but she had to come home.
He repeated his question.
Keeping her eyes away from his, she said, “Nothing. Why’re you asking me that?” She could feel him staring at her.
“I don’t know.” His voice full of suspicion. “It looks like…feels like—”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said as lightly as she possibly could. “I wanted to come home early to spend some time with Jacquie.” And then, she added, “I miss her,” knowing he’d believe that.
He nodded. “I do, too.” But his eyes didn’t move away. “Jasmine, with everything that’s going on with my father, with everything at the church, I need to know…”
Why is he so suspicious?
She had to face him now. Look into his eyes and make this lie look and feel like the truth. With a breath, she turned, made her fake smile real. “Babe, there’s nothing wrong. If I’d known you’d be this concerned, I would’ve met you at the hospital. But like I said—”
He held up his hand, stopping her. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s all the pressure. I’m seeing things, looking for stuff that’s not even there.” He sighed, slumped onto the bed. “It’s all…getting to be too much.”
Even though her heart was still pounding, she said, “That’s okay. I understand. How’s Dad?”
Shaking his head, he said, “No change. Doctor Lewis wants to meet with me tomorrow morning, and I don’t think it’s good news.” He stopped and took her hand. “Will you go with me?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
With a sigh, he said, “I don’t know, Jasmine. With Pops, I don’t know if I’m doing enough.”
“What more can you do? You’ve been praying, and the rest is up to God.”
“I know, but all these weeks have passed, and there’s nothing new. Maybe that’s because Pops needs more from me. Maybe he needs to hear my voice more. Or feel my presence more. Maybe I need to be there more.” He paused. “I’m thinking…about stepping down.” He took another moment, as if he needed that time to digest what he’d just said. “Maybe Pastor Wyatt should be leading City of Lights.”
It was hard for her to keep standing, so she sank down onto the bed next to him. “Really?” was all she could say.
“Yeah. I’ve got to do all I can, and with everything…it’s getting to be too much.” Then, without another word, he kissed her forehead and ambled toward the bathroom—all that was on his mind weighing heavily on his shoulders.
Jasmine didn’t move. Just stayed there and thought about how God truly did answer prayers.
This was her way out! If Hosea stepped down, the blackmailer, the letter, the threat would go away.
Hosea would never know. She’d never have to convince him that stripping had been her only choice. At least, that’s what she’d thought back then; that’s what Viva had told her…
For days, Viva had been trying to persuade Jasmine to go to the club with her. But over and over, Jasmine had told her no. Never in a million years would she get on some stage in front of a bunch of old men. No way. She was too good for that. And that’s what she kept telling Viva.
“Okay, so you’re too good to make money, mama?” her friend asked. “Then what’re you gonna do?”
Jasmine shook her head. “I’m not exactly sure; I’m still checking out getting a second job for the summer.”
“Okay, that’ll bring you an extra, what, one hundred dollars a week? And by the end of the summer, you’ll have an extra, what? It won’t even be a thousand dollars.”
Jasmine ignored her skepticism. “I have other options. I made some calls to the blood bank—”
She had to stop talking since Viva was buckled over, laughing.
“And then there are other things,” Jasmine added, softly this time, her confidence waning. But when Viva kept laughing, Jasmine added, “I don’t care what I do. All I know is that you’re not going to find me on some stage dancing half naked!”
“Not half naked, chica, nine-tenths naked.” Viva laughed. “I take it all off—everything but the drawers.”
Jasmine shook her head. “That’s not for me. And how would being an exotic dancer help anyway? What am I gonna do—pay my tuition with one-dollar bills?”
“That’s bogus, chica. Money is money. Those people in the admin building won’t be turning down anything that’s green. I’m telling you, you can make a truckload of cash—more than you can make anywhere else.”
Jasmine turned up her nose, as if the thought of dancing with Viva smelled nasty.
Viva said, “Don’t be looking down at me. You need to be asking me to hook you up, ’cause you don’t have very many choices…”
Jasmine sighed deeply, bringing herself from the summer of 1983 to the winter of 2007. If only what she’d told Viva had been true. If only she’d kept her word that she wouldn’t take off her clothes for any reason. If only being a stripper hadn’t come so easily.
But as she listened to the sound of the shower spray coming from the bathroom, she thanked God for Hosea’s words.
Maybe Pastor Wyatt should be leading City of Lights.
Without knowing a thing, her husband had saved her. All she had to do now was encourage him, tell him that he should step aside, convince him that focusing on his father was the right thing. The right thing for both of them.
Jasmine stripped as fast as she could and headed to the shower. There was no better time to begin to persuade her husband than now.
TWENTY-EIGHT
JASMINE DIDN’T KNOW WHY ALL those people talked about food being the way to a man’s heart. The real key to any man’s soul was in the bed.
She’d known that before, and she was sure of it now as she rolled away from Hosea, leaving her husband gasping.
After a couple of deep breaths, Hosea smiled. “Good morning.”
She kissed his cheek. “It was good for me.”
“As good as it was last night?”
Jasmine chuckled as she rested her head against his chest. “Definitely.” Although she was smiling on the outside, her thoughts were on all those images that had kept sleep away again.
But by tonight, sleep should come easy because of the free pass Hosea was giving her. As quickly as this drama began, it was about to end.
She counted to ten and then said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”
Hosea frowned, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. As if his thoughts were still on this morning.
“Stepping down,” Jasmine reminded him. “I think you’re right, babe. You have too much to offer to be staying where people are constantly trying to bring you down. And once you walk away from that drama, you’ll be able to spend mo
re time with your dad, like you want to. And, I will, too. And then we’ll both be able to spend more time with Jacquie.” Without a breath, she kept going. “And then when Bring It On returns in the summer, you won’t be so stressed. You’ll be able to focus on the show. On what’s most important to you. It’ll be a better quality of life—for you, me, and Jacquie.” She nodded with every word she spoke. “Definitely, give Pastor Wyatt the keys, because it’s not worth it.”
Hoisting himself up on one elbow, Hosea looked at Jasmine through squinted eyes. “Wow. You gave me a couple of reasons that I hadn’t even thought about.”
“Well, isn’t that what a helpmate’s supposed to do?”
He nodded, his eyes still on her. “But why the change? I thought you loved being Lady Jasmine.”
“Yeah, but I hate what you’re going through; you’re my priority.” She paused, cupped his face with the palm of her hand. “Babe, I thought about this all last night. You’re doing the right thing.”
“Well, we’re on one accord.”
Jasmine smiled, thoughts of the blackmail letter almost gone from her mind. It was over.
He said, “I was thinking about this all night, too. Kinda talked to God as I slept. And I think I was just worn down yesterday.” He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against hers. “Don’t worry, darlin’, you’re still the first lady.”
Jasmine blinked, taking seconds to understand. “You’re…”
“Going to stay,” he finished. “The best thing I can do for my father is carry on.”
“But…”
He kissed her again. “I’ve made up my mind, so pray for me,” he said, before he jumped out of the bed.
He left Jasmine sitting, wondering what had happened. Her plan had been that, by the time her feet hit the floor this morning, City of Lights and her blackmailer would be in the past.
But with what Hosea had said, nothing had changed. The threat was still there. Today was just like yesterday—she was still in trouble.
It was more than the chilled air that made her shiver when she traipsed across the floor, her steps leaving soft prints in the plush carpet. But by the time she got to her closet and grabbed her bathrobe, her confidence was back.
She was ready with another plan.
TWENTY-NINE
THEY WERE HOLDING HANDS WHEN they turned the corner and saw the nurses running from the room. Jasmine and Hosea stood, their eyes wide as a doctor shouted orders.
“We’re moving him now!”
Finally, the shock released him, and Hosea ran to his father’s room. “What—”
Before he could get out another word, two orderlies wheeled his father’s bed through the door, pausing for a second to steady the frame.
The sheet was pulled high on Reverend Bush, but only to his face. And that was where Jasmine saw death…in the gray pallor of his skin. In the way his forehead was beaded with sweat. He looked like he was on his way to die.
“Pops!” Hosea yelled, as his father was rushed past them.
“Mr. Bush, we were trying to reach you.” Jasmine and Hosea spun around to face Dr. Lewis. “We’re moving your father back up to ICU.” The doctor spoke succinctly, her tone filled with more urgency than Jasmine had ever heard before in her voice.
“What happened?”
Dr. Lewis shook her head as she directed Hosea and Jasmine away from the door. “We’re not sure yet, but his temperature has been rising all night. And then this morning, his blood pressure began dropping,” she said quickly.
Jasmine inhaled a huge breath of air. And even though she was sure of the answer, she asked, “Is he dy—”
Hosea didn’t let her finish. “What are you going to do?”
“We’re putting him on pressors. It may be that he has an infection in his blood.”
“An infection in his blood?” Jasmine exclaimed. “Isn’t that like poison? What are you doctors doing to him!”
Hosea took her hand, her signal to be quiet.
The doctor looked at Jasmine for a moment, then squared her shoulders and spoke to Hosea. “We’re not sure of the source—if it’s even an infection. But if it is, it could be that his catheter has given him a kidney infection. Or it could be that a bacterium from one of his bedsores has gotten into his blood.”
This time, Hosea couldn’t keep her quiet. “Bedsores!” Jasmine shouted.
“Yes,” the doctor said as patiently as she could. “Bedsores are not uncommon for a patient who’s been bedridden for so long. The skin breaks down and ulcers form,” she said, stating straight facts. “Whatever the source, your father’s condition is not good, and I have to go.”
“Doctor,” Hosea swallowed hard, “is my father going to be…is he—”
The doctor didn’t wait for him to ask the painful question. “I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Bush. This is life-threatening. That’s why I have to go.” With a quick glance at Jasmine, the doctor rushed away, leaving the two standing, their eyes following her until she was gone.
“Oh, my God,” Hosea finally whispered.
Those were her sentiments, but Jasmine couldn’t say a word. All she could do was turn around and hold her husband.
They were holding hands, in the ICU waiting room. Their heads bowed and their eyes closed. Even as the TV played a rerun of The Cosby Show in the corner overhead, even as other families wandered in and out, Jasmine and Hosea stayed committed to talking to God.
“Hosea!”
Brother Hill rushed into the room and held his godson. Then he leaned over and kissed Jasmine’s cheek, leaving her in as much shock as the news they’d received four hours ago about her father-in-law.
“How is he?”
Hosea shook his head. “We haven’t heard too much. Doctor Lewis came out a couple of hours ago to tell us that they had him on pressors to keep his blood pressure up. That’s the big problem—keeping his pressure up so that his brain gets enough blood and oxygen. They’re concerned about brain damage.”
“Wow.” Brother Hill sank into the chair next to Hosea. “Samuel was doing so well.”
“Not well, Daniel,” Hosea said. “He’s been in this coma, and we’ve been fooling ourselves that since he wasn’t getting worse, he was getting better.”
Brother Hill nodded.
Jasmine squeezed her husband’s hand. “But we’re not giving up,” she said to both of them.
Hosea shook his head slowly. “No, I’ll never give up on Pops.”
“And you know your father. He’s not ready to leave us,” Brother Hill said, as if that was his hope. He added, “I called Wyatt to let him know what’s going on. Did you know he was out of town?”
“Yeah, he had an engagement somewhere in Mississippi this weekend,” Hosea said. “But that’s fine. I can handle my father and the church.”
Jasmine frowned. She hadn’t known that Pastor Wyatt was away. If he was gone, then maybe he wasn’t the one who’d slid the note under her door.
“He said he’ll be back on Monday.”
“Whatever,” Hosea said, just as Dr. Lewis stepped into the room.
Thoughts of Pastor Wyatt were gone as the three stood. Dr. Lewis glanced at Brother Hill and Hosea nodded.
“Doctor, I think you’ve met my godfather, Daniel Hill.”
“Yes.” Her voice was weighed down by exhaustion. “Well, we’ve gotten your father stable again. His fever is slowly coming down, and now we have him on a broad range of antibiotics—which means we’re trying to kill anything and everything before we even get his blood cultures back.”
“And his blood pressure?” Hosea asked.
“Well, if this works, by tonight his pressure should be more stable.”
“Okay, then,” Hosea said with hope, “this is good news.”
The three exhaled, exchanged hopeful glances, and nodded together. But then the little bit of relief they found was snatched away when they turned back to the doctor. Her expression said nothing about good news.
“Is there s
omething else?” Hosea asked.
“I want to caution you. Your father’s blood pressure was so low, we don’t know what kind of damage was done. If we get him stable, we may want to do more tests.”
“Sure.” Hosea nodded. “Whatever you need to do.”
“Now, if there is extensive damage, that could mean…he could be brain dead.”
The gasp was so loud, Jasmine wasn’t sure if the sound had come from just her.
The doctor asked, “Does your father have a living will, any instructions on how he would want this situation handled?”
Hosea shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. He’s never talked to me about that.”
“Well, if he doesn’t have one, then you’re going to have to make the decision. Depending on the test results, we may want to think about taking your father off the ventilator.”
“But if you take him off…” Hosea didn’t have to finish.
The doctor nodded. “Then nature would take its course.”
“No!” Hosea exclaimed.
As if the doctor had been in this place before, she stood, her eyes and voice steady. “All I’m saying is that we should consider everything.”
“No!” He shook his head to help convey his point.
“Think about it. It may be better—”
“You’re not hearing me, Doctor!”
This time, Jasmine was the one who had to hold her husband back. She grabbed his shoulder, gently. And, with that little bit of pressure, reminded him who he was. Reminded him he had to stay calm.
Hosea took a breath. “I’m sorry, but you need to hear what I’m saying. We’re going to do everything we have to do. The life-and-death decision—that’s going to stay in God’s hands.”
“That’s what I’m talking about Mr. Bush, letting nature take its course.”
“And I’m talking about your using every talent that God gave you. Your work and my prayers are going to keep my father alive.”
Dr. Lewis stood, saying nothing for a moment, her eyes a bit brighter. “You’re wrong Mr. Bush. It’s my work and my prayers, too.” With a slight smile, she nodded and walked away.
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