Robinson,” Hosea said. “And, I was told the reason why.” Now, the standing nurse spoke. “And you are?”
“I’m Pastor Hosea Bush.”
She raised an eyebrow as if to say: that don’t mean nothing to me.“Unless,” the nurse rotated her glance to me, “she’s his wife ….”
“This is my wife.”
The nurse nodded, then shook her head. “John Robinson hasn’t been cleared for any visitors, except for his wife.”
“Is his wife here?” I asked.
Right away, the nurse gave me one of those there-really-aredumb-questions glances. “No, that’s why I asked if you were his wife.”
Dang! If I would have known that, I would’ve lied. “Do you know where she is?”
Before the last word was out of my mouth, I knew it was another dumb question, but I still needed to know the answer.
“I don’t have any idea,” the nurse replied with a little bit of an I’m-getting-sick-of-these-questions attitude.
“So, you don’t know if she’s been contacted?”
“Debra ….” The nurse who’d been sitting right behind the one who’d been speaking, stood up.
Even though she didn’t say anything else, some kind of unspoken demand had passed between them because Nurse Debra had nothing more to say except, “I’m sorry. That’s all I can tell you.”
“But you didn’t tell us anything,” I said. “And we need to know.” Hosea cupped my elbow and led me away right after he thanked the nurses and right before the volume of my voice started to match my rising blood pressure. I stopped moving when we were just a few feet away and let my eyes roam one hundred and eighty
degrees, taking in each of the rooms on this side of the corridor. “Darlin’.”
My husband spoke in a tone that told me he knew what was on my mind and he wasn’t going to let me just take off running from room to room until I found Jefferson.
“I just ….”
“I know.”
“I’m really worried … about Jefferson and Kyla.”
He nodded and kissed my forehead. “Okay, we’ll go to the police.”
I exhaled.
Hosea paused, and looked around at the doctors huddled in the hallway. “I’m surprised no one is up here. But let’s go downstairs, I’ll make a couple of calls and then, we’ll check in with Dan,” he said referring to a member of our church, though Detective Dan Foxx was more than that. He was my earthly savior, the hero who’d found my daughter when she’d been kidnapped six years ago.
Hearing his name was like oxygen for me. Now I could breathe because if anyone could help us, Detective Dan Foxx would do it. He would find Kyla. “Thank you,” I said and hugged my husband. Like he always did, Hosea had made me feel better, although fear still gripped my heart. I didn’t want to be afraid, but I was. I was very, very afraid that something terrible was about to happen.
chapter 4
Kyla
There’s power in a praying woman.
The sound of Pastor Ford’s voice in my mind made me lift my head and open my eyes.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
I hadn’t thought about calling my pastor last night, though I knew for sure that she would have been there with me, just like she was when my dad passed away. She’d been at Cedar Sinai when the doctor told us that there was nothing more that they could do. She’d held me while I’d held my mother as we cried and cursed the aneurysm that had attacked my father’s brain and taken away his life.
But maybe that was why I hadn’t thought about calling the woman who was like my second mother. Because didn’t pastors usually show up at the end of life? No, I wasn’t ready to see her. I would call her, of course. Just not now, not yet.
I tried to turn my thoughts to a happy place as my Uber crawled across the bridge. I wasn’t sure what bridge because I didn’t know a lot about New York. But I knew enough to know that this bridge was taking me into Manhattan because of the skyline in front of me that was framed through the car’s windshield. My eyes zoomed in on the Empire State Building and fresh tears sprang into my eyes. The island of Manhattan held one of the best memories of my life. That time when I’d come to New York for the first time. With my boyfriend, though, I’d left with a different man ….
I felt like such an adult, away on a trip without my parents. Of course, through my years at Hampton, I’d traveled home with friends, mostly Alexis. I’d gone with her to Savannah several times. But this was different. This was New York. This was just me and
Jefferson.
He wrapped my hand inside his and led me into the packed lobby of the Empire State Building, keeping me close as people hustled by us, rushing, eager to go home, I supposed. We maneuvered through until we found the Observation Deck elevators.
Inside the elevator, Jefferson wrapped his arms around me from behind and I leaned into him — this was my favorite place to be.
Even though the elevator operator stood just feet away, Jefferson kissed my neck, then whispered, “Are you having a good time?”
“Yes,” was all I could get out. It was so hard to breathe when Jefferson was this close. It was always this way and that was why it had been a monumental feat to keep the promise that I’d made to God almost ten years ago. I was a child then, but whenever I was with Jefferson, I felt like a woman. So, keeping this vow … whew! There was a reason why the women on campus called my man Hot Chocolate and so many times, I’d wanted just a sip of that drink. But I’d stayed strong and Jefferson had stayed with me.
Graduation was this coming weekend and he had surprised me with this two-day trip to New York, complete with separate hotel rooms, so that we could spend time together before it got crazy with my parents and other relatives arriving to see me walk across that stage to receive my degree.
But then the elevator doors opened, and all of my thoughts of our past and this coming weekend were swiped away as Jefferson and I stepped out and onto the top of the world.
Of course, we weren’t even on top of the Empire State Building, but being 86 floors above the streets of Manhattan made it feel like we were standing at the apex of the earth.
“Oh, my,” I whispered.
“Isn’t this amazing?” Jefferson asked.
I nodded, doing a slow turn, taking in the urban jungle that was spread out before us. It was a mass of concrete, some tall buildings, others short, none coming close to the giant tower where we stood.
Turning to my boyfriend, I began, “Jefferson, this ….” I paused in the middle of my words and pressed my hand over my mouth. Normally, I had to look up to gaze into the eyes of my sixfoot-two man. But not at this moment. Now, I had to look down. Because he had lowered himself onto one knee. And as the sun still hung high behind him, casting a halo-like glow over him, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small velvet box.
Maybe if my knees hadn’t started knocking, I would have been able to wrap my mind around this moment. But I couldn’t capture a single thought because all of my mental effort was focused on breathing. In, out. In ….
I stopped, not even able to do that much when Jefferson flipped up the box’s cover. And before he could utter a word, I shouted, “Yes. Yes.”
Jefferson laughed, but he was not alone. I heard the other chuckles and giggles, but I didn’t look around. All I did was hunch down so that Jefferson and I were eye-to-eye.
“Uh … Kyla,” he whispered. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. You’re supposed to be standing and I’m supposed to be down here.”
“But I wanna be where you are … always.”
He blinked a couple of times and then, slipped the ring from the box. I knew this was the moment when women were supposed to examine the diamond for the four c’s: cut, carat, clarity and color. My mother had taught me that. But none of that mattered. Jefferson could have purchased this ring from Woolworth’s. Truly. That was how much I loved this man.
As Jefferson slipped the ring onto my finger, he whispered, �
��Kyla Carrington, I want you to be Kyla Jefferson. I want you to be my wife. Because I so want to be your husband.”
I told him yes again, this time with a kiss. Around us the air filled with applause and moans of approval. Then, he took my hand and helped me to stand. So many people had surrounded us that they had to part like the Red Sea to let us through. Jefferson led me to the edge of the observation deck, wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned back into the man who would be my husband …. Using the tips of my fingers, I wiped away the tears that always came with that memory. At that time, I thought Jefferson was the most romantic man on this planet. Who else would think to propose on top of the world?
Of course now, I knew of all the movies that played out a similar scene. But that only made me love it when I watched “An Affair to Remember” and “Sleepless in Seattle.” It gave me a chance to live our moment on repeat, as many times as I wanted to. I wanted, I needed to somehow live that moment again — with Jefferson.
When the driver said, “Here we are,” I glanced up at the massive building. “Harlem Hospital.”
I didn’t move, not quite sure what to do. The driver glanced at me through the rear-view mirror, frowned, then turned around in his seat to face me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”The tears that moistened my cheeks belied my words. He nodded because what else was he supposed to do with a crying woman in the back of his car? He popped open his trunk, jumped out and before I could make it to the curb, he was standing there with my small roller-bag. As he pulled up the handle and turned the bag toward me, he said, “I hope everything will be all right.”
“I hope so, too,” I said before I thanked him for the ride.
As the music of New York sounded all around me, I stood there, watching the driver get back into his Toyota Corolla and then roll into traffic. For a moment, I wished that I could call him back. Because how was I supposed to walk into this hospital by myself? I’d thought I could make it on my own, but now, I knew for sure that I couldn’t. I needed someone: Nicole, Alexis, my mom, Pastor Ford … the Uber driver.
With that thought, I pulled out my cell. But just as quickly, I tucked my phone into the pocket of my suitcase. It was ridiculous that I needed to speak to Alexis or my mom or Pastor or anyone before seeing Jefferson.
Turning around, I faced the hospital, set my shoulders back, then pushed through the maze of people rushing down the sidewalk. A new wave of fear washed over me. God, I was scared. But I loved Jefferson — and that memory gave me all the strength that I needed.
There were so many people inside the lobby, making it feel more like an office building than a hospital. In the center was a circular desk with a gold Information sign sitting above. As I moved forward, the security guard nodded at me and I greeted him the same way.
I rested my suitcase beside me, and then waited as the two women behind the desk finished talking. It looked like they were changing shifts and I just wished that they moved faster.
When the shorter woman finally sat down, I said, “I’m here to see Doctor Jefferson Blake.” I paused. “I’m his wife.”
The woman spread her lips into one of those I’m-doing-thisbecause-it’s-part-of-my-job smiles and tapped on the computer keys.
It took her way too long before she said, “I’m sorry,” and looked up at me with a frown. “We don’t have a Doctor Jefferson Blake on staff here.”
At first, I didn’t understand her, and then, with a breath, I said, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t clear. My husband, Doctor Blake, he’s not a doctor. I mean, he is, but he’s a patient … now. He’s a patient here.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” This time, her smile was more genuine and her fingers moved quickly across the computer keys. She kept typing and typing. “You said the last name is Blake?” I tapped my foot. “Yes, Jefferson Blake.” She typed some more, I tapped some more.
Then, she apologized again. “We don’t have anyone here by that name.” She looked up at me. “Are you sure you’re at the right hospital?”
“Of course I am.” My voice rose. “This is Harlem Hospital, right?”
“Yes.” The woman nodded.
“My husband is here,” I said, though there was no confidence inside my voice nor inside me. Travis had said Harlem, right? There was no way I would have gotten that information wrong, right? “Can you look again?”
It must have been the tears in my eyes that made her turn to the computer once more. This time, when she looked up, she didn’t even say a word. The expression on her face apologized.
My husband was not here. Where was he?
How was I going to find him?
My shoulders that had been squared were now rounded and I felt the tremors rising within me, but I pressed them down. I couldn’t lose it. I had to think, I had to find Jefferson. Then, I remembered: Travis.
I prayed that his plane hadn’t yet taken off. Fumbling inside my purse, I searched for my cell. I pushed aside my wallet and my makeup case and my tablet.
No cell phone.
I pushed aside my pen holder and my tissues and my brush. No cell phone.
Oh, my God! Where was my phone? Where was my husband?
I was in New York, by myself, and I couldn’t find my husband, or my phone.
It was all of it. Everything. All piled up on me at once. It was my fear and my frustration that boiled into tremors that this time, I could not stop. The tremors rose and rose within me and I stood in the middle of that lobby in this New York hospital and I cried. Not the kind of tears that had watered my eyes on the plane or that had streamed down my cheeks in the Uber.
No, now, I cried for real. I cried like a child. The kinds of tears that came with heaving and hiccups. The kind of tears that wouldn’t let me speak.
“Miss,” the woman said to me. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“You can find my husband,” I said as if she had personally misplaced him. “And my cell phone, too.”
Behind her, the security guard stepped closer. “What’s going on?” he asked.
I sobbed, not able to speak, at first. But finally, I was able to get out, “I … I …” And then, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
Oh, my God. Travis had decided to stay in New York. Whipping around, I was ready to hug my friend.
Except when I turned, I faced my enemy.
“Jasmine,” I whispered her name as if I couldn’t believe the sight before me. I didn’t believe it and just figured that somehow now, I’d stepped into the middle of a nightmare. That was what happened when you dreamed sometimes. You’re in Los Angeles, then, you blink, and you’re in Pittsburgh. That was how I felt. Like I was dreaming and had just gotten off at the wrong stop.
Then, she said, “Kyla.”
When she spoke, I knew for sure it wasn’t a dream. But what was this? What was Jasmine doing here? Then, she wrapped her arms around me as if she were still my friend.
The only reason I didn’t stop her was because I needed a place to cry. So, I leaned into her shoulder and wept.
Through my tears, I told her my story, “Jefferson, he was shot here in New York.”
“I know.”
“But now, I can’t find him. He’s not here at the hospital.”
“He’s here,” she whispered. I leaned back and looked at her. “He’s here,” she repeated and nodded.
“He is?” My voice sounded so small to me. I pointed to the woman behind the desk. “She said he wasn’t,” I hiccupped.
The woman sat stiff and still with a look that said — don’t blame me.
Jasmine said, “That’s okay, I know where he is. Let’s go. I’m going to take you to your husband.”
The way she took my hand and led me toward the elevators reminded me of a long, long time ago. When we were in kindergarten. Jasmine had handled everything that day. Just like she was handling everything now.
I followed her, but after only a few steps, I stopped. “My bag,” I said before I turned around.
Right behind u
s was a man. With kind eyes and an even kinder smile and right away, I knew this was Jasmine’s husband. Alexis had told me that a good and gracious spirit surrounded this man and she was right. It was like he carried peace with him and I felt calmer and steadier just because he was here.
Jasmine said, “Don’t worry about your bag. My husband has it.
My husband, Hosea.”
He nodded. And then, he held up … my phone! “It was sticking out of the side pocket of your suitcase.”
They’d found my husband and my phone, so I let Jasmine lead me away. The woman I’d once loved like a sister. The woman who had violated our bond in the most egregious of ways.
I still hated her, I still didn’t forgive her. But she was doing what I needed most right now. She was taking me to my husband and that was all that mattered.
chapter 5
Jasmine
My heart ached, but inside, I had hope. At least now, the only one I had to be concerned about was Jefferson.
Almost an hour had passed since I saw Kyla in the hospital’s lobby after returning from the police station. We had gotten a bit of information from Detective Foxx. He wasn’t working the case, but he shared all that he knew.
Jefferson had been shot … trying to stop some teens in one of those flash robs … one boy pulled out a gun and fired three shots … there had been a woman with him who they needed to find … and the store had a surveillance camera.
“It’s because of that woman that we’re here,” Hosea had told Detective Foxx.
In as few words as I could, I explained that I knew Kyla and Jefferson and I knew that she was the woman who’d been with him last night so now, I was afraid for her life because if there was one thing I knew for sure, Kyla would have never left her husband’s side.
“Is there any way that I can see the video? So that I can let you know if the woman with Jefferson is Kyla?”
Temptation: The Aftermath Page 3