I shook my head and he laughed as he jumped onto the bed with me. As I lay back and he kissed me, I marveled at how quickly God had answered this prayer. I’d just asked Him to take away the agony, to give me peace, and inside my husband’s arms, all I felt was wonderful.
But in the middle of his kisses, my cell phone rang. It was Brock who reached for the phone. It was Brock who glanced at the screen and said, “I don’t recognize the number.”
He shifted the phone so that I could get a look and my smile went away. But I recovered enough to shake my head and say, “I don’t know who that is.” I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him and his lips back to me.
But no matter what I did, I couldn’t get back into the mood. I couldn’t melt at Brock’s kisses the way I always did.
Because of that phone call.
I told Brock that I didn’t recognize the number, but this secret I held was turning me into a liar.
I knew who was calling.
Harmony.
She was calling me back, and I knew, just knew, that meant bad news.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
This would’ve been a déjà vu moment, except this time I was the one waiting in Starbucks.
I was the one sitting in the back, in the corner, in the dark, trying my best not to be seen. I’d worn black, hoping that I would blend in with the walls, the tables, the air. If I was telling the truth, I didn’t even want to be seen by Harmony.
As I wrapped my hands around the warmth of my cup, I asked myself for the one-millionth time if I was doing the right thing. And my one-millionth answer was the same. I was . . . because I understood my motives. Like Pastor Ford had said in her sermon, check your motives before you make a move.
Well, I’d checked my motives over and over again. I was doing this because to this day I wished to God that someone had told me. Plus, Harmony was the one who called me. Twice.
I hadn’t even called her back. But the next morning, she reached out again, and when I answered, she said simply, “I’ve changed my mind. I want to get together.”
She didn’t even have to tell me that; I knew it was why she’d called. And so, we’d set this time to meet.
I was resolute in my decision. It was the right thing, but not easy.
Maybe I should’ve called Kendall. No . . . that wouldn’t have worked. She would’ve made me cancel this meeting. Asia was the one that I should’ve called. She would’ve been right here with me. In fact, I wouldn’t have had to say a word. Asia would’ve told Harmony everything, and then made up some stuff to make sure that Harmony got it.
“Sheridan.”
I looked up. “Hi,” was all I could say.
Harmony said the same as she slid into the chair across from me. Then she shifted her glance and twisted in her seat. Finally, she sat still. But she sat so straight that she looked like she was leaning against a board. Her lips were pressed together as tightly as her fingers that were curled around the straps of her purse.
I wondered how many sleepless hours she’d spent since we talked. The dark shadows beneath her eyes told me there’d been many.
Oh, God, I felt so sorry for what I was about to do.
For a moment I wondered if there was a way for me to get out of this. Harmony was going to suffer heartbreak, of that I was sure. But maybe I could postpone it. Maybe she didn’t have to hear this from me. Maybe she could marry Quentin and it would be years before she found out he was seeing Jett.
But was that the right thing? Would I be culpable if something happened to her? If something happened to her sexually, mentally, or even physically?
At that moment Vanessa Martin flashed through my mind. Vanessa, my dear friend, who had been part of the Ex Files group that Pastor had put together. Vanessa, who had lost her husband, Reed, when he committed suicide. Vanessa, who had then, just months later, done the same.
Vanessa had been in such despair, and from the day that Pastor Ford had given us the news about her death, I’d always been on the lookout for that kind of distress in any of my friends. That’s why I was always so concerned about Kendall and Asia.
And that’s why Harmony was now on my heart.
Harmony wasn’t a friend, but she’d been put into my life for this season probably for this reason. I owed her the same concern that I gave to everyone else.
She said, “This is about Quentin, isn’t it?”
I nodded. Though we’d never mentioned his name the two times we’d spoken since our last meeting, that wasn’t any great revelation. What other reason would we have for getting together?
She nodded, too. “Like I told you, I’d made up my mind. I was going to get rid of all of my doubts, and just start a new life with Quentin.”
I know my face was stretched with sadness when all I did was look at her.
“I know that Quentin loves me,” she added, as if I needed to know that before I told her my news.
“I believe that, Harmony.” I didn’t tell her that I didn’t think it meant anything, though. Hadn’t Quentin loved me the whole time he was falling in love with Jett?
“Well, if you believe that, why are we here?” she asked.
I took a deep breath, exhaled, and reminded myself of my motive. “I think he loves you, Harmony,” I said, thinking it was best to start with that good news. “Quentin’s not the type of man to play with people’s feelings.”
She blew out such a long breath of relief that I thought she was going to collapse right there at our table.
“But . . .”
With that single word, I took all of her solace away.
I said, “I saw him the other day.”
“Quentin?” She frowned as if that couldn’t possibly be my big news.
I nodded.
When I said nothing more, Harmony shook her head a little. “So . . . you saw him . . . did he say something about me?”
“No, he didn’t mention you at all. But, I saw him . . . with Jett.”
She recognized the name right away. Still, she asked for clarification. “The man . . . who was the reason for your divorce.”
I said, “Yes.”
She paused and I watched her lips tremble when she said, “Well . . . okay . . . there could be lots of reasons for that, right?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer, to explain. She said, “I mean, even though they’re not together anymore, they could still be friends, right? You and Quentin are friends, right?”
I just let her go on.
Now there were tears in her voice when she said, “And, I guess people who are friends are bound to run into each other, right? I mean, people think L.A. is big, but it’s really a small place, right? The two of them probably just had some things to talk about, right?”
The tears in her voice made their way to her eyes.
That was when I knew that there was no way that I could do this.
“You know what, Harmony,” I began as I pushed my cup aside and moved to the edge of my chair so that I could stand and get out of there. “You’re right. That’s all it was. Two friends getting together, trying to catch up with each other.” And then I smiled. But my lie was so bad, so ridiculous, that I couldn’t even fool this woman who didn’t know me at all.
“Where did you see them?” she asked, not letting me get away.
I leaned back in my seat, though I stayed silent.
She said, “Were they embracing?” Then her voice got a little louder. “Were they kissing?” Now even more volume. “Tell me! What was my fiancé doing with Jett?”
“Harmony!” My eyes scanned the space around us and I was grateful for the music that played through the speakers throughout the café. Thank God Luther Vandross’s crooning was louder than her cries.
“What? Now you don’t want to tell me?” She wept like she already knew the answ
er. “You tell me to meet you here and now you don’t want to tell me what Quentin was doing with Jett? It had to be something; you would’ve never called me to tell me that you saw them chatting at the counter at Starbucks.”
“You’re right, but they weren’t hugging or kissing or doing anything like that.”
“So, what is it? I’m sitting here imagining all kinds of things. What is it, Sheridan!”
The way she spoke to me, the way she made that demand, I wanted to tell her to back up and slow her roll. But really, I understood her distress.
“I saw them at that restaurant, Rendezvous.”
I wasn’t sure if the name of the restaurant was going to be enough, or if I would have to tell her why it made a difference that that was the place where her fiancé was meeting his friend.
“Rendezvous.” Then she started chuckling. I mean, really giggling, like what I’d told her was something funny and cute.
She kept on laughing and I wondered if I was going to have to call 911.
Then, suddenly, her laughter stopped. She placed her hands over her mouth. But while I couldn’t see her trembling lips anymore, all of her emotions were right there in front of my face. Tears poured from her eyes, her hands shook with such force that I knew she couldn’t control it. “That’s where Quentin took me. My first night in Los Angeles. Quentin took me to Rendezvous.”
“Oh, Harmony. I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head and reached into her purse, searching through the deep hobo bag. And Kendall’s words came back to me . . .
The messenger always gets shot.
That thought made my heart pound, made me push back my chair. I was just about to duck under the table, but it was too late. Harmony’s hand was already rising from her bag . . . with a tissue.
But that didn’t stop my heart from beating against my chest like it was a steel drum. I kept my eyes on Harmony as she used the tissue to wipe away her tears.
“I’m really sorry, Harmony,” I said again. The sadness that hovered over her was so thick, it was like I could feel her pain, her heartbreak.
She nodded. “Well, I asked you, didn’t I? And, even though this hurts, it’s best that I know.”
I just nodded.
Then she stood. “I’ve got to get out of here.” She moved so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to say another word. But then she stopped and from a few feet away said, “Thank you.”
I didn’t really hear her. But, I read her still-trembling lips.
It wasn’t until she ran through the door that I allowed my shoulders to drop, and I let air pass through my lungs once again.
From the moment I’d seen Quentin and Jett, somewhere deep inside of me, I knew that I was going to tell Harmony. And telling her was supposed to give me relief.
So, why did I feel worse now than I did before? Now I didn’t just feel sorrow. I felt dread. And dread was always so much worse.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
This was the absolute best part of my life.
That was my thought as I glanced across the dining room table at Evon. What a wonderful Sunday this had been. Church, and then I spent the afternoon with my future daughter-in-law while Brock and Christopher hung out together.
Perfect peace.
Well, except for that little bit of dread that still hung over me—that dread that was all about Harmony.
It had been eleven days since I’d met with her and I was still genuinely worried. Some of it had to do with her being my soror, but most of it was because I knew the sorrow that she was probably going through. I could imagine her pain as she made her decision about what she was going to do.
All I could do was pray for her. Just about every day. I prayed that she found a place of happiness, whether that place was with Quentin or not.
“So, do you really like the design?” my future daughter-in-law asked me.
I took myself away from my thoughts and once again studied the sketch that Evon held out for me to see. I already knew that this child was talented, but I guess I didn’t know how much.
My son’s fiancée was a Harvard-degreed fashion designer who’d already started her own label and sold her designs to small boutiques. She was having more than modest success, was making a name for herself throughout California, and had already received two offers from major designers to intern on their teams. But she’d optioned to stay independent, and as I stared at the dress she’d designed for me, I knew why. This jeweled one-shoulder, Empire-waisted chiffon piece was just gorgeous.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “My very own LaCroix design.”
She filled the room with her smile.
“I’m just a little worried, though,” I said.
Evon always glowed like she was the personification of sunshine, but right then that smile faded away. “What? Is there something you don’t like? I can change anything. I really want you to be happy. This is all about you and . . .” She talked so fast, she didn’t give me a chance to say anything.
“Wait, hold on.” I laughed. “I don’t want you to change a thing. I’m just worried that this dress is so amazing that I might outshine the bride, and I don’t want to do that.”
“Oh.” She exhaled and laughed with me. Then, more seriously, she asked, “Do you want to see my dress?”
“Have you finished it already?”
“Just about, but I have a sketch here.” She reached into the portfolio that rested on the chair.
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to see your dress before the wedding.”
“I don’t,” she said as she pulled out another sketch pad. “But you and my mom aren’t in that group.” She smiled when she turned to me. “I want you to see it.”
Now, I’d seen my share of amazing wedding dresses: Vera Wang, Carolina Herrera, and plenty of others. But this sleeveless sweetheart neckline, with the fitted jeweled corset bodice, coupled with the flowing satin skirt was by far the most beautiful wedding dress I’d ever seen.
In that moment I imagined the whole scene that was two and a half months away: Evon walking slowly down the aisle as Christopher stood at the altar. If I was crying now, I’d be a blubbering fool on that day. And I couldn’t wait!
“Do you like it?”
It was only when I heard her voice that I realized I hadn’t said anything. I turned to Evon and didn’t care one bit that I was crying. “It’s so beautiful. You’re going to be a gorgeous bride.”
“I hope so,” she said. Even though tears made her eyes glisten, Evon still wore that smile and lit up the dining room. “I can’t wait to get married.”
“Every little girl’s dream, right?”
I was surprised when she shook her head. “It wasn’t mine. I wasn’t sure that I would ever get married.”
“Really?” I said. That was hard for me to imagine. I would’ve thought this gorgeous chocolate young lady had guys falling at her feet. Her beauty was natural—from the long locks that hug beyond her shoulder to the smooth richness of her skin. No part of her was fake; not her hair, her nails, the color of her eyes. What young man wouldn’t want a beauty like her?
“I didn’t date much,” she said. “To be honest, I didn’t date at all. I went out here and there, but the guys all saw me as super-religious since I wasn’t having sex. And on top of that, I was the nerdy, smart girl who would rather study than go out anyway.”
“Oh,” I said, hating the fact that there had ever been any unhappiness in her life. I knew that she’d had it tough growing up in one of the roughest areas of Oakland. It was just her and her mom, who worked many minimum-wage jobs to give Evon everything that she could.
“But it was okay,” Evon said as if she knew some of the sorrow I was feeling for her. “I was blessed. I was never bullied or anything. It wasn’t that the kids didn’t like me; it was just that I wasn’t
noticed all that much. Christopher is my first real boyfriend and I can’t believe that we’re getting married. He’s made me so happy, Mrs. Goodman.”
I wondered if my son knew how blessed he was. I had a feeling that he did since I’d raised him right. “You know what? We’re going to have to do something about that.”
Her eyebrows almost came together; she didn’t have a clue as to what I was talking about.
I said, “About you calling me ‘Mrs. Goodman.’ I think I’d prefer ‘Mom,’ if that’s all right with you.”
A beat passed and then suddenly, Evon raised her hands and pulled me into a tight hug, and I held her, too. I already had two of the best children in the world. It was amazing to me that God felt that I deserved the blessing of a third.
When she released me, the tears that had been teetering in the corners of her eyes spilled out and rolled down her cheeks.
I laughed. “Okay, we’re gonna have to get cleaned up,” I said, using my thumbs to softly wipe away her tears. “Or else my husband and your future husband will come in here and wonder what in the world has us sitting here sobbing like babies.”
“I know.” She laughed, too. “It’s just that all of this is so special to me. You helping me plan the wedding, and especially you and Mr. Goodman helping us pay for it. Christopher and I were just going to go away and—”
I held up my hand, stopping her. “That was never going to happen as long as I am the mother. Brock and I are thrilled to help you and Christopher. This is our gift to you.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was filled with gratitude.
Glancing at my watch, I said, “Brock and Christopher should be back any minute.”
“Do you think they found Mr. Goodman’s tux?”
“I’m sure they did, though I had a feeling they just wanted an excuse to go out shopping. But even if they didn’t find it, there’s still plenty of time.” I patted her hand. “Don’t worry about that.” Pushing back from the chair, I said, “I’m going to dash and change so I’ll be ready to go when they get back. I’m starving.”
“Me, too! And Crustaceans is one of my favorite restaurants.”
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