Temptation: The Aftermath

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  I’d only heard four words. “If he wakes up ….”

  He nodded as he stood. “I hope to have more information for you tomorrow. In the meantime, do you have any questions for me?”

  I opened my eyes and remembered the only question I’d had was how could I roll back time’s hands? How could we all go back twenty-four hours or even seventy-two hours? Then, I would have kept Jefferson safe at home in Los Angeles.

  If he wakes up ….

  God, what was I going to do?

  If he wakes up …. “Kyla.”

  When I heard Jasmine call my name, I turned. Her arms were already outstretched before she was even close to me. And when she was just inches away, I collapsed into her embrace.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  If he wakes up ….

  I just shook my head.

  She said, “Jefferson. He’s not ….”

  “No!” I leaned back, then snapped, “Don’t say that. Don’t you even think that.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I didn’t mean anything.” Her voice was gentle, caring. Like the Jasmine I knew before.

  So I reeled it back a little. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that, I just spoke to the doctor.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  This time, I was the one who nodded.

  A voice over my shoulder said, “Is there a place where my wife and her friend can talk?”

  I hadn’t even seen Hosea come back with Jasmine. The nurse who’d been attending to Jefferson earlier, nodded. “Right over there,” she whispered as she pointed across the hall.

  I hadn’t noticed the room before — Quiet Room.

  Hosea said to me, “It might be good if you talk to Jasmine in there.”

  An image flashed in my mind:

  I was shaking when the doctor walked out of my father’s room and when I grabbed my mom’s hand, I felt her trembling, too.

  He said, “Let’s go talk in here.”

  I glanced up to where the doctor pointed. A room down the hall. With a sign on the door. Quiet Room.

  That was when I knew, I just knew that my father hadn’t made it ….

  Snapping back to the present, I heard Hosea say, “It would be good if you talked in there rather than in front of Jefferson.”

  He was right. I didn’t want to have any kind of negative or even doubtful conversations in Jefferson’s room. Because I was sure that my husband could hear me, or at least feel me and so when I was in there — when anyone was in there, I wanted nothing but good thoughts, God thoughts.

  I glanced at the door to the Quiet Room and then, I returned my gaze to Jefferson’s room.

  Hosea said, “While you’re talking to Jasmine, I can sit with Jefferson if you don’t want him to be alone — if it’s all right with you.” Then, he added, “I can pray with him.”

  That made me smile and gave me a little bit of peace. “I’d like that. He’d like that.” I paused. “Thank you.”

  Turning to the nurse, I asked, “What do I have to do to add my friend,” I paused and glanced at Jasmine, then corrected myself, “add them to the list of people who can see my husband?”

  The nurse said, “All you have to do is tell me and we’ll put their names into the computer.”

  I nodded and Hosea said, “I’ll take care of that, too.”

  “Yes, please. And thank you again,” I said. “I feel that’s all I’m saying is thank you and I haven’t even had a chance to say nice to meet you.”

  He gave me a smile that could warm up the world. “Maybe that’s because we met before.”

  I tilted my head. “You remember? I didn’t think that you did since we only spoke on the phone that one time.”

  He glanced at Jasmine and from the corner of my eye, I saw the deep frown on her face.

  “Of course I remember,” he said.The wattage of his smile dipped just a little. “It was an important time, back in 2008, I think it was.” But once he got those words out, all of his warmth was back.

  “Well, thank you again. For being here, for taking care of me, and for praying with my husband.” I paused and this time I faced Jasmine when I said, “Thank you to both of you.”

  He led me and Jasmine to the Quiet Room, and gave us both a nod before he left us alone. I stood for a moment and pushed back the memory of the last time, the only time that I’d been in a room like this — the day my father died. I sank into one of the four leather chairs and Jasmine lowered herself into the one next to me. For a few moments, we respected the name on the door, but finally, Jasmine broke the silence with, “I wonder why this room is here.”

  Her statement made me sigh and I leaned forward, holding my face in my hands. I expected memories of my father to return to my mind’s eye, but all I could see was Jefferson. And fear began to rise like bile up in me.

  The soft hand on my back made me turn my head so that I was looking straight at her. It was so weird sitting here … with Jasmine. I said the first thing that came to my mind. “I never thought I would see your face again.”

  My words pushed her back a bit, but she was Jasmine, so she recovered right away. “I know. I moved as far away from you as I could so that you would never have to see me.”

  I smirked. “Really? You moved away for me?”

  She nodded. “I moved away for both of us.” Another moment of quiet, and then, “But here we are now.”

  Slumping deep into the chair, I said, “I know.”

  More quiet seconds before she said, “So what did the doctor say?” She paused. “I mean, if you want to tell me.” Another pause. “You don’t have to.” More hesitation. “We can talk … about anything … it’s up to you … whatever ….”

  “Jasmine!”

  Her lips snapped together. “Why are you rambling?”

  “I guess,” she lowered her eyes, “I don’t really know what to say to you. I mean, I’m really sad about what happened to Jefferson and I was so afraid that you’d been kidnapped.”

  I fast-blinked a couple of times. “What?”

  She waved her hand. “I’ll tell you about that later.” She leaned back. “It’s just weird, I guess. I mean, I want to be here for you, I want to help in any way that I can. But ….”

  I said, “But … the last time I saw you, I wanted to punch you right in the throat.”

  She laughed, though I guess it was more like a hearty chuckle.

  Whatever it was, I didn’t crack a smile. “What’s so funny?” I asked her.

  “You. Punching anyone anywhere.” That was what she said, but I noticed that she shifted a bit in her seat, moving a couple of inches away from me. As if she didn’t want to test her theory about who she thought I was.

  I said, “Well, I’ve changed.”

  She shook her head. “There is no one in my life, except for Serena, that I’ve known longer than you. And even though we haven’t seen each other in a while, I know that you have not changed that much.”

  She was amused. I was not.

  I sat up straight in the chair.“Yes, I have. Especially with women who sleep with my husband.”

  “Ouch.” She looked down and away from me.

  But, I sat boldly. “I told you I’ve changed. Twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have said anything like that to anybody.”

  When she looked back up at me, I saw something in her eyes that I had never seen before. A softness that revealed … what? Sorrow? Regret?

  She said, “Well, I’ve changed, too.” Her words were soft and without any bit of the attitude that I was giving to her.

  I wasn’t finished, so I said, “I guess you have, being married to a pastor.”

  But while my words agreed with her, it must have been my tone, my stiffness, my entire countenance that told her that I knew a snake could shed its skin, but not its heart.

  She said, “I hate the circumstances, but I hope we get the chance to talk. Because there is so much that I want to say to you.”

  Before we walked in
to this room, before we sat down together, before we had this little chat, I had almost, almost forgotten about what Jasmine had done to me. It was my grief and fear that pushed that memory aside.

  But now, talking to her like this, for the first time in twenty years reminded me. Reminded me that the Bible talked about forgiving, but there wasn’t a word in there about forgetting.

  I didn’t have the chance to stew in those thoughts, though because there was a quick knock on the door and Hosea stepped inside.

  The sight of him made me jump up and speak fast. “Did something happen to Jefferson?”

  Hosea held up his hands. “No. He’s fine. I mean, he’s the same. I prayed with him a bit, but these gentlemen, these detectives want to talk to you.”

  I hadn’t even noticed the men, one Black, one Latino who followed Hosea into the room. “Detectives?”

  “Yes,” the Black one said, reaching for my hand. “My name is Detective Green and this is Detective Hernandez.” I gave him a quick handshake as well.

  “You’re here about my husband, right?”

  They both nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” Detective Green said and I figured he was the designated driver of this conversation.

  I asked, “Do you know exactly what happened?”

  The detective kinda nodded his head from side to side in a ‘sortof ’ move. “Well, it was a flash rob.”

  “What is that?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “When a group of … usually it’s teens … run into a store and steal whatever they can. There are so many of them, there’s nothing anyone can do. But it seems your husband tried to stop at least one of them. The wrong one.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. I could imagine that.

  Jefferson wanting to do the right thing.

  The detective said, “We really want to get this shooter, so we want to talk to his companion. The woman who was with him last night.”

  Of all the words that the detective had just spoken, a spotlight shined on two. I frowned. “His companion?”

  Behind me, Jasmine cleared her throat, but I didn’t turn around.

  I kept my eyes on the detective.

  “Yes.” But then, he changed the subject. Detective Green asked, “Do you have any idea why your husband would have been out that late … and up in Washington Heights?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess he was hungry or something.

  Is being there a problem?”

  “No,” Detective Green said, then glanced at his partner before he finished with, “but he was a bit away from his hotel. He was staying in midtown, near the convention center. So we’re trying to figure out why he was all the way uptown.”

  I’d been to New York a few times, but I didn’t know midtown from Harlem from Washington Heights. I didn’t know if this was a big deal or not, though these detectives were making it almost sound like Jefferson being away from his hotel was a crime. “Well, all I can think is that Jefferson wanted to get something to eat. Maybe someone told him about this place to grab a quick bite ….” There was that exchange of glances again before Detective Hernandez uttered his first words. “Where he was wasn’t the kind of place to grab anything to eat. It wasn’t a restaurant or a fast food joint. It was a store or what people in the neighborhood call a bodega.”

  He said that as if that was supposed to make some kind of difference. “Well maybe he had a headache or wasn’t feeling well. Maybe he needed to buy some aspirin or cold medicine, I don’t know.”

  “Did he have a cold the last time you talked to him?”

  “No, but you’re asking me for reasons and I’m trying to tell you everything that I can think of.”

  The detectives nodded before Detective Green asked, “When was the last time you spoke with your husband?”

  “Yesterday before their last session. It was about two in LA, so five here in New York. He said he would call me once he got back to the room last night, but he never did.”

  “Did you try to call him?”

  “I did, but when I didn’t reach him, I didn’t think anything of it. I figured he was out with some of his friends. Some of the doctors that he only gets to see once a year at this convention.” When they did that glance thing between each other again, I said, “Look, I want to know what’s going on? Why are you asking me questions when you should be out finding who tried to kill my husband?”

  “We’re still trying to get descriptions of the shooter.”

  I knew my tone was full of impatience and sarcasm when I said, “I certainly can’t tell you what he looks like.”

  Jasmine said, “What about the video? Didn’t the store have a surveillance system?”

  Detective Green nodded and said, “Yes, they did.”

  Detective Hernandez shook his head and said, “But it wasn’t working.”

  Jasmine groaned, but I just stood there, trying to get all of this to make sense.

  Detective Green said, “That’s why we want to get in touch with the woman who was with him last night.” He finally returned to what I wanted to talk about. “Do you have any idea who was with your husband?”

  I shook my head. “No. But if I had to guess I’d say that she was one of the doctors from the convention.”

  This time when the detectives glanced at each other, I folded my arms. They didn’t have to say another word; I knew what they were implying.

  “Okay, well, we’re going to keep working this case, but we’re definitely hoping to find this woman. We need to speak with her.”

  I tightened my arms across my chest. “Okay.”

  “We’ll be working the conference today, but here’s my card.” Detective Green added, “Call me if you can think of anything else.” “I will,” I said, even though I knew I would never call him for anything. Not after this.

  Then, Hosea turned to the men and led them out of the room. The moment they stepped over the threshold, I plopped back into the chair and stared at the card. Of course, I was grateful that the police were working this case, but their questions infuriated me. Questions about some woman. Their inferences were all in their tones. She probably hadn’t even been with Jefferson. They’d probably just happened to walk into the store at the same time.

  The woman who was with him last night.

  I shook my head to push the detectives words aside. Because if I thought about his words, I’d have questions. And if I started asking questions, that meant that I didn’t trust Jefferson. And I did trust my husband. He had worked hard to earn my trust again and he had it. Completely.

  When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I looked up. And into the eyes of Jasmine Cox Larson … at the moment, I couldn’t remember her new last name. But while I couldn’t remember her name, I remembered back twenty years — to what she’d done.

  And because of what she’d done, questions rushed into my mind, overwhelming me.

  The woman who was with him last night.

  “Kyla?”

  The woman who was with him last night.

  “Are you all right?”

  I tried to blink, but I couldn’t. It was like my eyes were steady on Jasmine and my mind was steady on that woman. Like Jasmine and the woman were the same.

  But Jefferson … my husband wouldn’t hurt me like that again … would he?

  No! Never!

  At least … that was what I thought.

  chapter 7

  Jasmine

  With sluggish steps, Kyla trudged from one end of the waiting room to the other and when she almost bumped into the wall, she started the route all over again. I watched her with her head a bit down, her glance squinted as she stared at the floor, her hand pressed to her mouth as if she were trying to force words that were about to be spoken back inside.

  I wondered what she was thinking. Was she wondering about the detective’s words? Did she wonder like I wondered — who was that woman?

  As Kyla paced, my thoughts wandered to another woman. The woman who’d been listening to our conve
rsation with Dr. Knight just a few hours ago. I didn’t know why, but I had such a strong feeling that the woman who’d been eavesdropping on us and the woman the detectives were searching for was the same.

  But who was she? Why had she been with Jefferson? Why had she been with Jefferson at midnight?

  I closed my eyes and asked the question that summed up all of my suspicions — was Jefferson cheating on Kyla?

  “Sweetheart.”

  My eyes popped open at the sound of Kyla’s voice. No, it wasn’t the sound. It was that word: Sweetheart? Was Kyla cheating, too? What was going on with the Blakes?

  Kyla said, “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’ve been with your dad from the moment I walked into the hospital. And, I didn’t want to call you in the middle of the night.”

  I breathed — sweetheart. Nicole.

  The thought of Kyla and Jefferson’s only child made me smile and made me feel a new ache. I’d been so in awe when Nicole had been born. That brown-haired, brown-eyed, brownish-pinkish little baby was a brown ball of niece joy. Of course, we weren’t related by blood, but no one could have told me nor Nicole that we didn’t share some kind of DNA. That little girl had my heart from the moment I peeped her in the nursery.

  I so loved her, but when I’d unplugged from her parents, she was part of the disconnection. She’d crept into my thoughts over the years, but I’d always blinked her away.

  Now though, I let the image of the nine-year-old girl rest in my mind. Or had she been ten the last time I saw her with her bouncing pigtails and a personality that outshone the sun? So many years had passed and that meant that Nicole Blake was now grown.

  I wanted to know all about the woman she’d become. “No, the doctors are in with your dad now.”

  Looking down at my phone, I pressed the Home button, wanting to take my attention away from Kyla’s conversation.

  “Okay, well, I’ll call as soon as they come out. I promise, this time.”

  My email account opened, but I didn’t read one word; my focus was still on Kyla. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but it was fascinating that Kyla and I were physically in the same room and mentally on the same side. I could have never imagined circumstances that would have brought us together this way.