“Okay, but how do I know who he is? And what is taking God so long? Doesn’t He know I have a biological clock?”
“God’s timing is perfect, but today we’re going to help you do some things to get ready for your Boaz.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Penelope, send in the glam squad!”
Tina, a makeup artist, and a clothes designer all storm the set and walk up to Bonita.
“Get ready for a makeover, girl,” I say. “And then we’re going to pick a lucky bachelor for your first date.”
“And cut!” the show’s producer says after the glam squad takes Bonita off set.
They usher Penelope and me backstage, because we’re going to have a hair and makeup change in order to tape a segment for another episode. This is weird, how it’s all done. They’re changing out the audience members and everything.
Backstage Penelope sits next to me in a makeup chair. “This is fun, right?” she asks.
“Yes, I guess it is. It’s hectic, though.”
“I love it. I wish we could do it every day.”
“Well, Greg wouldn’t want me doing this every day. He wants me home right now.”
“He just needs to get on the bandwagon, because we’re about to blow up.”
I let out a sigh. This is what everyone keeps saying about Greg, but he’s not having it. He’s not a bandwagon kind of dude. I just need God to reveal to him how important this is for my ministry and for the kingdom, and then maybe he’ll be on board. If not, I’m going to find myself suddenly back at home.
CHAPTER 25
FELICIA
I wish I had done like Lance’s previous conquest and gotten my own doctor, so that I would have proof that he and Dr. Tomlinson lied about my baby. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to get my proof the hard way.
It’s taken me some time, but I think I’ve finally gotten Dr. Tomlinson alone. I’ve had to follow him for days. His office is too busy for what I need to do, and waiting for him at his home might involve other people—witnesses. I don’t want to be seen or noticed at all.
Luckily, Dr. Tomlinson is a creature of habit. He works out every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening, from seven o’-clock in the evening until nine. On Friday nights, the gym is a ghost town. All of the fit people are going out for the weekend on dates or to clubs.
I wait for him to come out of the building. And he’s right on schedule. I step out of my car that is parked two spots down from his. My hair is in a bun and I am wearing workout clothing. I do some stretches near my car so I don’t look out of place, and to warm up.
When Dr. Tomlinson gets to his car and clicks his keyless entry device, he doesn’t even look up at me. Doesn’t even notice me walking toward him.
“Hello, Dr. Tomlinson,” I say when I am finally close enough to touch him.
He jumps. “Oh, Ms. Caldwell. You startled me. Is this where you work out? It’s a great gym isn’t it?”
I shake my head as I step in very close. Close enough to whisper.
“This isn’t where I work out,” I hiss. “I came here to see you.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have someplace to be.”
I quickly reach into the pocket of my hoodie and pull out my secret. A little .22 caliber pistol. I jab it into his midsection.
“If I shoot, you’ll probably survive. You may have to use a colostomy bag for the rest of your life, but you’ll have a life. Not like the life you stole from my son.”
Dr. Tomlinson’s bladder empties on his shoes and the ground. Good. He should be scared. He is an accessory to murdering my son.
“Listen, p-please don’t hurt m-me. My wife . . .”
“Your wife? Your wife?”
“Lance . . . h-he has me by the short hairs. If I don’t do what he says, he could have my license revoked. I helped him once, and now I can’t be free of him.”
“Was there truly anything wrong with my baby?”
“Look . . .”
I press the gun hard into his side. “Tell me!”
“Your baby was perfectly healthy, based on all the tests we had done up until that point.”
My eyes close. I feel myself swoon.
“Did Lance pay you to do this? Did he pay you to lie to me and convince me to have an abortion?”
“Lady, I could lose my license for this.”
I twist the gun. “You think I care about your license when you murdered my child?”
“Not with you. With the other girl he did, and not a day goes by where I don’t regret that decision.”
“He didn’t pay you.”
Although my resolve is wavering some, I press the gun harder into Dr. Tomlinson’s gut. He should work out harder. His abdominals feel like gelatin.
“He threatened to reveal to the media what happened the last time. He told me you were crazy . . .”
I ram the gun harder. “He said I am crazy?”
Tears pour down Dr. Tomlinson’s face. He nods. “Yes. He said you threatened to hurt his wife if he didn’t leave her.”
I drop my arm to my side, feeling defeated. I didn’t want this to be true. I wanted to believe that there was some hope left. Dr. Tomlinson sees his moment, jumps into his car and slams the door.
As he pulls out of the parking lot, I drop the gun on the ground and burst into tears. This is almost too much for me to take. Then, I feel the rage again, this time toward Lance. I pick up the gun and scramble to my feet.
I climb into my car and drive. Tears pour down my face as I speed onto the highway. I want to see Lance’s face and tell him I know what he’s done. That I know he’s a murderer. He and his doctor friend murdered my baby.
I stop on the street in front of Lance’s Buckhead mansion. I almost don’t go through with it, but I need to lay eyes on him and see his reaction when he knows that I know.
Before I give myself the chance to change my mind, I pull my car up in the drive and stop in front of the home. There is still time for me to go on home and lick my wounds, but if I let Dr. Tomlinson get to him first, I may never get my chance.
I slam my car door as I get out, and jump at how loud it is. My sneakers don’t make a sound on the concrete as I storm up to the front door. I touch the bun on top of my head and realize that my workout disguise probably has me looking crazy, but oh, well. I feel a little crazy right now, so my look matches my mood.
I ring the doorbell and wait impatiently for someone to answer. And I don’t know why I’m surprised that it isn’t Lance who opens the door. It’s some sort of household employee. I should’ve known he wouldn’t answer the door himself.
“Is Lance here?” I ask.
“How can I help you?” the man standing in front of me asks. “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Jarvis?”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I have a standing appointment with him. Why don’t you go and ask?”
“Mr. Jarvis isn’t available right now. Would you like to speak with Mrs. Jarvis?”
I toss my head backwards and chuckle. “Yes. I would love to talk to her.”
The doorman walks away and a few moments later, Jasmine is standing in front of me. She doesn’t look nearly as pitiful as I thought she might look.
“Let me guess. You’re here because you’re sleeping with my husband?” Jasmine says. “I keep telling him to keep his hoes away from my house.”
I blink a few times; wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t ready for her at all.
“Yes, Lance and I have been having an affair.”
She steps aside and holds the door open. “Do you want to come inside or talk about it standing outdoors?”
Again, I’m shocked, but I follow her inside. For a moment, I think I should’ve maybe gotten my gun.
She shows me to a sitting room, and Lance is right there. On the couch with an ignorant grin on his face. Like he’s been expecting me.
“Dr. Tomlinson called,” he says.
“Have a seat,” Jasmine says to me. “Do you want me to stay or
leave, Lance?”
Lance motions for her to sit. And she does. Right next to him on the couch. I sit in an armchair facing them both.
“As you can see, you have no leverage here with Jasmine. So if you were trying to destroy my marriage, that’s not going to happen,” Lance says.
“I’m not trying to destroy anything,” I say. “I am trying to understand why you and Dr. Tomlinson conspired to murder my baby.”
Jasmine rolls her eyes and Lance pats her hand. “Look, I did that for you. I knew you wouldn’t have an abortion without thinking something was wrong with the baby. You don’t really want to have a baby with me. I was trying to save your conscience.”
My hands shake with fury and anger. I feel like I can kill him with my bare hands. I can almost see my fingers digging into his throat and ripping out veins. But the overwhelming feeling I have is shock.
“I hope you didn’t come over here to save your little fling,” Jasmine says. “All of you chicks have an expiration date. He’s already moved on to the next one. A cheerleader named Sienna.”
“You know about his other women?” I ask. “You’re okay with that?”
She nods. “He’s okay with my others too. We have an open marriage, but I bet he didn’t tell you that.”
An open marriage? What does that even mean? How are you married if you both have others?
“She wouldn’t have wanted me that way,” Lance says to Jasmine. “None of them want that. They don’t want to share. They just want me all to themselves.”
I clear my throat and stand. “You should’ve told the truth.”
“I didn’t. I’m sorry,” Lance says.
“Ain’t no sorry. Too late.”
I walk back out of the house the way I came in. I reach into the car for my handgun. I hold it in my hand. Feel the weight of it. The cold steel touching my fingers. I could end his life right now. His and his smug wife’s. And Dr. Tomlinson would probably make sure everyone knows why. He’d want to cover himself.
Then I set the gun down on the floor of the passenger seat in my car. I’m not going to shoot or kill anyone. God wouldn’t want me to do that. But I don’t know what He wants me to do. I don’t know at all.
“Just leave, Felicia,” Lance says. He’s standing outside next to my car now. I wonder if he sees the gun.
“Why did you do this to me?” I ask. “You were supposed to be a blessing.”
“What are you talking about? I am a married guy you slept with. It was supposed to be fun, and you got pregnant.”
“You had no feelings for me?” I feel desperate to hear that our relationship was something. Anything.
Lance nods. “I did. But you know I wasn’t in love with you. It was all about the fantasy. I wanted you to enjoy our time together. I did.”
I swallow hard. I have to leave before someone gets hurt, and before I do something stupid.
“You were a blessing,” Lance says. “I enjoyed you. Just think about the fun times we had together. They can continue if you want. Now that you know the truth.”
My eyes narrow to the size of slits. I can’t believe him. He’s still talking about being with me after he and the doctor murdered my child.
“I have to go.”
And I mean that. I have to leave right now, before someone gets hurt tonight. But this is not the last time Lance will hear from me. I don’t think he’s ready for what’s coming to him. It’s all about karma. And sowing. And reaping.
CHAPTER 26
NYA
All ten of the women who are going to participate in Lady Sandy’s book-writing project have gathered at the Bowens’ home with a ghostwriter. A ghostwriter named James Knowles. As if we’re not capable of writing down our own stories. I don’t know how I feel about this man sitting in front of us at Lady Sandy’s long dining room table.
“I’ve written the biographies of several megachurch pastors,” James says.
“Which ones?” one of the ladies asks.
He chuckles. “I can’t say. It’s part of my contract that my help on these books remains a secret.”
“Well, I’ve already written my part,” Penelope says.
This makes me grin. First of all, why is Penelope even in the book? She didn’t have an altar-call experience. She was practically saved in the womb. Born like a little baby apostle.
“I’m sure whatever you’ve written needs work,” James replies.
Penelope’s eyebrows shoot up. “I have a degree in English. I was just letting you know that you can put your energy into helping these other ladies. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of work to do on their stories.”
Lady Sandy cuts her eyes at Penelope. The last time I saw a look like that was when I was thirteen and my grandmother made me go get a switch off the tree when she saw me kissing a boy. That’s a mama-don’t-play look she’s giving, and I don’t want any part of it.
“Listen, I’m sure you are all capable of articulating your words. You’re all evangelists. You’re good with words,” James says. “But you will find that preaching and writing are not the same thing. If you trust me with your stories, I promise to make them even better. I would like to speak to each of you alone for a few minutes to get a feel for what you’re trying to do.”
When James takes the first person into Lady Sandy’s study, Penelope rushes to my side and grabs my hand.
“Can we chat for a little bit?” she whispers. “Outside of here.”
I nod and follow Penelope out of the room. She takes me into a huge library with floor-to-ceiling shelves lining the walls.
“It’s my father’s library,” Penelope says. “He writes some of his sermons in here.”
“Wow. I know God has given him some good stuff in here.”
“Yes, He has. My parents being so powerful puts a lot of pressure on me, though.”
“How so? It would seem like it opens doors, if anything.”
Penelope sits at her father’s desk, picks up a Bible, and holds it to her chest. “It does open doors, of course. But I think because they didn’t have a son, they want me to be the one to carry on the ministry torch.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“Oh, I do want to be in ministry, no doubt, but I don’t want to be stuck in a church. I don’t want to do what they do. I want to travel all over the world, prophesying and praying over people. I think that’s what I’m called to do.”
“So do it.”
Penelope sets the Bible down and shakes her head sadly. “You don’t know what it’s like to disobey my mother. She’s . . . well, she’s pretty tough. That’s all I’ll say.”
“You can be and do whatever you want to do, Penelope.”
“Not if I want my parents to finance it.”
Now this is the part I really don’t understand. I have never had parents who financed and bankrolled me, so I don’t know what that looks like. As soon as I hit adulthood it was sink to the bottom of the ocean or bust my arms through the waves like I didn’t have a choice. And I didn’t. Swimming was my only option.
“Tell me what you wrote about,” I say to Penelope.
“I talked about my real altar-call experience. Not when I first went down at the age of ten and asked to be baptized, but the one I had after my abortion when I was sixteen.”
Now I feel bad. I totally judged Penelope before. I guess she really did have some adversity that she needed to take to God.
“That is going to be very powerful, Penelope. It will speak to the hearts of a lot of young women.”
“I hope so, although I really wrote it for me. It’s a secret I’ve been carrying around for a long time.”
“A secret from your church family?”
“And my parents. They don’t know.”
My eyes widen with shock. “Are you going to tell them before the book comes out?”
“I’m thinking I will let my mom read it when she gets a draft of the book from the publisher. Do you think that’s a good idea?”
/> “Only if you think it’s best to blindside her with the information.”
“I think that if I tell her ahead of time she’ll try to keep me from revealing it.”
This is a lot. Then it occurs to me that Penelope must want my help, because why else would she be telling me about this?
“Do you want my advice on this?” I ask.
A look of relief washes over Penelope’s face. “Yes, please! I don’t know what to do. I’ve been carrying this guilt around for years. I just want it off me. I think that may be what’s hindering my prophetic gift from blossoming through.”
I feel a vein near my temple start throbbing. Not this mess again.
“Like when did you know you were a prophetess?” she asks. “I wonder if I’m just a late bloomer.”
“We talked about this before, right? It was before I was saved, that part I do know.”
“So was it when you were a little girl? Or were you grown? I’m just wondering if there are some signs that I may have missed.”
Maybe, just maybe, if I tell her the truth of what it’s like to have this gift, then she’ll truly embrace what God has called her to do.
“The first vision I ever had was of my grandfather crying. I was little and it did scare me. I wasn’t used to seeing my grandfather like that. He was strong.”
“Were you able to give him a word, though? What did you say to him?”
“So I don’t necessarily hear exact words from God every time. Sometimes I hear someone say something in the vision. Sometimes there is no vision, it’s just a very strong sense that I should share a particular scripture with a particular person. I just trust it.”
“Wow. I know God wants to use me that way. I have a feeling about that. I’m just going to trust that.”
“God is already using you, Penelope. You’ve got to know that. You were great on the show episodes too.”
“I was your sidekick on the show episodes. I was like Vanna White. I wasn’t the main attraction.”
“When we preach, God is supposed to be the main attraction. Let’s not lose sight of what we’re doing.”
“Of course you’re right. You are. This is why you’re the prophetess and I’m the psalmist. I’ll get there.”
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