Temptation: The Aftermath

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  It was Detective Green who figured it out. “You want to write?” This time, his nod was emphatic.

  “Okay.”The detective had come prepared with a small notebook and pen. He flipped the pages in the spiral book, past the ones he’d written on. When he got to the first blank page, he handed the book and pen to Jefferson and my husband sat up straight.

  I leaned over, watching him form the letters. He moved slowly, like a child, and like a child, he was determined.

  The paper was small, and Jefferson’s letters were big, so he had to use several pieces. That didn’t deter him. He wrote and turned the pages. He wrote and I read the words, disconnected as they were.

  He wrote until he’d told his story and then, he gave the book to me. Our fingers touched, and he held me, as if he were trying to tell me more.

  I passed the book to the detective and as he glanced through the pages, I stared at Jefferson. What had my husband been through? After about a minute, the detective was ready to put together the pieces of the puzzle that I’d never been able to work out. “So,

  Lola tried to blackmail you.” “Yes,” Jefferson breathed.

  Detective Green glanced down at the notebook once again. “She asked you for twenty-five thousand dollars?”

  “Yes.”

  He read through Jefferson’s words more. “You were going to give her the money?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this last word,” Detective Green pointed to what Jefferson had written, “evidence. You were trying to get evidence?”

  Jefferson nodded. “Evidence. For police.”

  “Okay,” Detective Green said, “I think I got it. So like your friend, you were trying to play cop.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He shook his head and waved his hand. “Nothing.” Looking down at Jefferson, the detective said, “I wish you had come to us first. As soon as she approached you, you should have come to us. You didn’t have to give her any money for her to be charged. You didn’t need that as evidence.” The detective sighed and shook his head. “Well, at least you’re going to be all right.”

  This time, I nodded with Jefferson.

  “Thank you, Doctor Blake. We’ll be talking to you again, when you’re stronger. And, we’re really glad you’re doing well.”

  Jefferson smiled and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Just that bit of exertion exhausted him.

  When the detective turned to leave, I glanced at Jefferson before I followed the detective out.

  In the hallway, I simply said, “So … ,” because what else could I say? There was so much for me to absorb. I wasn’t sure where to start, I didn’t know what to ask.

  He nodded. “We found her. And she had something to do with your husband’s case. She, and the guy she was taking your husband to meet at that bodega in Washington Heights, are both facing charges.”

  “What guy?”

  “Apparently, Ms. Lewis has been doing this for a while, with a partner, who gives her marks advances on their credit cards. It’s a pretty elaborate scheme, but one they’ve been working for a couple of years.”

  “Wow!” And then, I paused because I couldn’t decide — did I want to know why she was blackmailing Jefferson? Did I want to know what she had on my husband?

  The detective peered at me while I battled those questions in my head. After a moment, he said, “Mrs. Blake, there was one thing I forgot to say. From what I’ve been able to put together so far, Lola Lewis has made her living blackmailing innocent men. “ I released the breath that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. “Innocent men, Mrs. Blake. Your husband was innocent, he knew it, but I guess he thought that he had to pay her the money before he could come to us. I guess he thought that exchange would be the evidence.” The detective shook his head. “This is the second time I’ve had to give this advice about this case, but when your husband gets well, please tell him to stick to his day job.” And then, Detective Green did something he hadn’t done in all of my face-to-face interactions with him — he smiled.

  “Thank you, Detective.”

  He nodded. “When your husband is able to communicate better, the DA will want to speak to him, but right now,” he held up the small pad, “this will do.” With a final nod that was accompanied by another smile, he turned and strolled down the hall.

  I pressed my hand against my chest and felt the pounding of my heart. I wondered if it had been slamming against my chest the whole time. I didn’t know.

  But what I did know was this felt like it was over. I still didn’t know what this woman had done with Jefferson, but I was pretty sure I knew all that I needed to know — that my husband was innocent. And the only three words he could put together was ‘I love you.’

  There was so much thanks that I wanted to give to God and for a moment, I wondered if I should call Hosea. I hadn’t seen him since Wednesday, which had been surprising, and now, I had this good news to share.

  But then, I thought for a moment. I thought back to the last time I saw Hosea. And right then, I knew there was a reason why he hadn’t been back. With the tips of my fingers, I touched my lips — I’d forgotten about that kiss.

  I didn’t know it then, but that was our goodbye. Now that Jefferson was awake, Hosea knew that Jefferson was the only man I needed.

  I smiled at the wisdom of Pastor Hosea Samuel Bush. I would always be so grateful for how he’d helped me to keep it together and keep my faith.

  But now, my husband was back.

  Right as I was ready to push open the door to Jefferson’s room, behind me, I heard, “Lunch is served.” Nicole laughed when I faced her. “Are you ready to get your grub on?”

  I nodded. “I’m ready. Ready to do anything with you and your father. Ready to live our lives out loud.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Nicole said, not even aware of what she’d just missed. “My mom and dad. Together forever. No matter what.”

  I pushed the door open and let Nicole step inside first. She had no idea how true her words would always be.

  chapter 32

  Kyla

  Epilogue — Two Weeks Later …

  I wasn’t sure how many times the word miracle had been used for my husband, but as Nurse Debra rolled Jefferson out of the room and the staff began to clap, I knew they were looking at my husband as the miracle that he was. I was sure of it because the tears in their eyes matched mine. My husband was going home.

  Dr. Reid stood in the center of the group, leading the applause. Jefferson squeezed my hand and I glanced down at him. Then, he turned to the other side and looked up at our daughter.

  To the team who’d taken such good care of him, he said, “Thank you. Thank you. Everyone.”

  His words were so crisp and clear, still short sentences. But the speech therapist said that he would be fine. As did the physical therapists he’d worked with daily since he’d awakened.

  Dr. Reid handed me a folder. “These are all of his discharge papers. I’ve faxed them to Cedar Sinai, but these are your copies for the nurses who will come to your home. And, all of your prescriptions are in there as well.”

  I nodded and then, gave my own thanks to Dr. Reid, hugging him tightly. There was no doubt in my mind that he was God’s vessel, used to save Jefferson’s life. After the doctor, I went to each of the nurses who’d cared for Jefferson as if he were a member of their own family. It had been twenty-four seven for a month and we’d had not a single issue. All we’d received from each one here at Harlem Hospital was love.

  It was like a receiving line as Nicole followed me, and then, each one on the staff gave their personal goodbye and best wishes to Jefferson.

  The most difficult thing was when Nurse Debra began to roll Jefferson toward the elevators. Nicole and I waved at the nurses and doctor until we couldn’t see them anymore. The air was charged with all of our emotions and inside the elevator, Nicole wiped a tear away.

  “I don’t know of another time when I’v
e had such mixed feelings,” my daughter said. “I’m so glad to be leaving here, but it’s sad too. This had become like home.”

  I squeezed her into one of those side-body hugs and at this moment, I was so grateful that I didn’t have to say goodbye to her, too — at least not right away. She was traveling back to Los Angeles with us and would be there for the next week before she returned to Beijing.

  When we stepped off the elevator, Nurse Debra gave us the last instructions. “Now, the medical transport knows that he has to stop by the Plaza to get your luggage and then, he’ll take you straight to LaGuardia.”

  “Okay,” I said as we stepped out onto the street. It hit me that this was Jefferson’s first time outside in over a month and I wondered what it was like for him. The squint of his eyes from the sun’s brightness and the smile on his face from the sun’s warmth, told me that he was just fine. He loved this city and I couldn’t wait until we came back. Maybe this would be our first trip once he was well, to visit the staff here at the hospital and to make that trip that I so wanted to take back to the Empire State Building.

  Nurse Debra pointed to a van at the corner. “There’s the medical transport.”

  We’d taken a couple of steps when I heard, “Kyla!”

  All of us faced the voice.

  Nicole spoke first. “Auntie Jasmine,” she exclaimed as Jasmine and Hosea trotted toward us. “And Pastor Hosea.” She hugged them as soon as they were in front of her. “Oh, my goodness, we’ve missed seeing you.”

  “I’m just glad we got here in time,” Hosea huffed, out of breath. “We were coming from the church and got caught in a bit of traffic in the Uber, so we jumped out ….”

  “And ran the rest of the way,” Jasmine finished for her husband. “We didn’t want to miss you.” She looked down at Jefferson and smiled with the warmth that was reserved for the dearest of friends. “Jefferson,” she said his name softly. “It’s good to see you. It’s good to see you well.”

  He smiled at her. “You too. Kyla,” he looked up at me, “you helped. Supported. So grateful. Your husband.”

  “Oh, my husband.” Jasmine turned and Hosea stepped forward. “You two haven’t met.”

  Hosea reached out and Jefferson took his hand. “Well, we’ve kind of met,” Hosea said. “You and I spent quite a bit of time praying together.”

  Jefferson chuckled. “Grateful. Thank you. My wife. My daughter.”

  Hosea nodded, understanding Jefferson’s message. He glanced at Nicole, but then, his eyes rested on me. “It was my pleasure to be here, to support them. The two of them, Nicole and Kyla, they love you very much.”

  I nodded, understanding Hosea’s message, his way of letting me know that he understood me.

  Jefferson turned to Jasmine. “Wow. So long.” “I know. Twenty years, can you believe it?” Jefferson shook his head. “Doing well?”

  She glanced at her husband. “I am. I really am, Jefferson.” “Pastor’s wife?”

  The way he said that, we all laughed.

  Jasmine said, “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m the First Lady of a church here in New York.”

  “Wow.”

  Jefferson added a couple of syllables to that word and we laughed again.

  Then, “I really hate to break this up, but we’ve got to get them in the van. They have a stop to make before they head to the airport.”

  I had forgotten that Nurse Debra was even with us. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Jasmine said.

  “No, don’t be.” I shook my head. “I’m glad to see you. And I’m glad you had a chance to see Jefferson … awake.”

  The medic driver jumped out of the van and Hosea said, “I’ll help you.”

  As the nurse rolled Jefferson to the curb, Hosea followed them and Nicole turned to Jasmine.

  She took her hand. “Auntie Jasmine, please don’t let it be another twenty years.”

  It was because of me that all Jasmine did was smile. She made no commitment, just pulled Nicole into an embrace. “It was so good to see you.” Stepping back, she added, “You’ve grown into the beautiful woman that I knew you would be. And I’m so proud to know you.” She hugged her again and then Nicole kissed her cheek before she turned to the van.

  That left just me and Jasmine. Alone. In the middle of what felt like hundreds of people passing by. Standing on this corner, my fourth Saturday in New York.

  I spoke first. “You stayed away, why?”

  She shrugged a little. “Once Jefferson woke up and we knew he was going to be all right, you didn’t need us and we didn’t want to intrude.”

  “You were here from the beginning, you wouldn’t have been intruding.”

  She tilted her head. “That’s what I said to you when I asked you to stay with us.”

  “Touché.”

  “Hosea did call every day,” Jasmine said.

  “I know. Nurse Debra asked if it were all right to give him information. I told her it was.”

  “He called every day and …”

  “He prayed every day,” I finished for her.

  And then, we laughed. No, we giggled. The way we used to when we finished each other’s sentences.

  “Okay, well, your husband is securely inside. You better get going,” Nurse Debra said as she rolled the wheelchair up to me. She hugged me before she returned to the hospital.

  Turning back to Jasmine, I let a silent moment pass. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  She squinted. “What?”

  “You tracked down that woman, Lola Lewis. You tracked her down for me.”

  She bit the corner of her lip. “Who told you that?” “Nobody. I just know you … now.”

  She glanced down at the ground, saying nothing. And that right there, let me know for sure that Jasmine Cox Larson had changed. Detective Green hadn’t said a word about who had given him the information. But I knew it was Jasmine. It had to be. That was why she’d been with that woman. She was trying to figure it out.

  But she wasn’t going to tell me that. She wasn’t going to take the credit.

  Her eyes were still on the ground but when she looked up, we spoke at the same time.

  She said: “I’m really sorry.” I said: “I forgive you.”

  Then, we blinked together, neither one of us wanting to cry. She said, “If I could take back anything in my life ….”

  I nodded. “I believe you now, that’s why I can forgive you.”

  She took in a couple of deep breaths. “Well, I don’t know what this means.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe it means that we can talk a couple of times a year — at least on holidays, maybe birthdays.”

  “Okay.” I could tell she was trying not to sound too eager. Stepping toward her, I held out my arms. And we embraced.

  She spoke as she held me. “It was good to see you, Kyla.” There were tears in her voice.

  “It was good to see you, too.” When I stepped away, I wiped the sweat from my own eyes. Taking her hand, I said, “When you go home, tell Jacquie and Zaya that … Auntie Kyla will see them soon.”

  She pressed her fingers against her lips as if she were trying to push back sobs and I turned toward the van where Hosea waited at the open door.

  Stopping in front of him, I paused, I smiled, and I let him pull me into a hug.

  “You are such a good man,” I whispered.

  He stepped back and I noticed the way he made sure that his head didn’t turn toward mine until we were a bit away from each other. “Well, if I’m a good man, it takes one to know one. And there’s one waiting for you in there.” He opened the door wider for me to slide inside the van.

  I said, “Take care, my friend.” “You do the same.”

  Once I was in my seat, Hosea closed the door on this trip to New York. As the driver pulled away from the curb, I only had to reach a little behind me to hold Jefferson’s hand.

  “Are you safe in there?” I said, knowing that he was well secured in the wheelchair that we’d bought and would take ho
me.

  “Yup,” he said.

  “All right then.” I looked across to Nicole who was beaming at me. As if I’d just done something right. I shook my head, but that didn’t stop my own smile.

  I did feel pretty good. My husband was alive and would be fine. My daughter was happy and would be spending a week at home. And then, there was me — I’d learned so much over these weeks through the wisdom of Hosea and Nicole. So many lessons, but the greatest one came from God. What the Lord said was true and always would be … forgiveness indeed, would set you free.

  If you liked Temptation:

  The Aftermath, check out

  It Should’ve Been Me

  Enjoy this excerpt …

  CHAPTER 1

  Tamara Collins

  In my last film, I’d played a psychotic woman who stabbed her husband in the stomach thirty-two times with a Swiss Army knife. Now, looking at the man who’d just stepped into this huge conference room made me curl my hand into a fist as if I were holding that knife again.

  “This cannot be happening,” I mumbled, as I stepped to the other side of the room that had been set up in the Renaissance Hotel for our first rehearsal. I pivoted, so that he wouldn’t see me and I could get my face together in a few seconds.

  I was already upset because this jacked-up, twenty-degrees warmer than normal Atlanta temperature had turned my Brazilian Blowout into a Philippine Poof. Now I had to deal with this, too?

  Clearly, I was being punished for something I had done, maybe in a previous life. I didn’t believe in reincarnation, but that was the only way I could explain why I hadn’t had a movie role in two years. Or maybe it wasn’t punishment. Maybe it was because my name wasn’t Cameron Diaz or Jennifer Anniston or that my skin wasn’t the color of mashed potatoes.

  Yes! That was it. That was the reason why I was in this room, an A actor (okay, maybe an A minus or at worst, a B plus) on the play circuit.

  Now, don’t get me wrong, I loved theater, always had, always would. Some of the greats — James Earl Jones, Cicely Tyson, Vanessa Williams, even Denzel Washington — had all slayed the stage. And August Wilson’s “Fences” — now that Pulitzer Prize winning play was one of my all-time favorites. Having a role in “Fences,” on the Great White Way, in the magnificent city of New York, would have been as much of a coup as just about any big screen movie.