“I cannot imagine a rejection worse than this, Pastor,” Sheridan sobbed as she finished telling the pastor everything.
Pastor Ford reached for her tissue box and dabbed Sheridan’s tears.
“I’m a woman being tossed aside for a man,” Sheridan cried. “And the worst part is I can’t imagine what I did to make Quentin do this.”
“Sheridan, this has nothing to do with you. This is about Quentin and his decisions.”
“I keep telling myself that, but…”
Pastor Ford exhaled what seemed to be a chest full of air. “Well, this wasn’t what I expected.”
“You said you heard rumors.”
“Yes, but the talk was Quentin left. That’s all.” The pastor paused and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe the news. She stood at the window. “Sheridan,” she started, keeping her gaze on the scene outside, “this other…man. Is it someone from the church?”
Sheridan stared at the pastor. Where did that come from? “Yes.” Sheridan paused. About three months earlier Jett had stopped attending Hope Chapel. Sheridan hadn’t asked why; she’d just assumed that the church was too far from the new home he’d purchased in Encino. Sheridan added, “It’s someone who used to go to church here.”
Pastor Ford’s face washed with sadness.
The pastor didn’t ask, but Sheridan said, “Jett Jennings.”
A mournful groan filled the room as the pastor sank into her chair. “Sheridan, I’m so sorry.”
Sheridan frowned. The pastor spoke as if somehow this was her fault. And then the memory rushed back—of the day Pastor Ford introduced Jett Jennings to the congregation and then made a personal introduction to the Harts.
“Sheridan, I want to see you and Quentin, together.”
Sheridan shook her head. “There’s nothing you can do, Pastor. Quentin has already moved in with Jett. And I’ve done everything I can to get over the loss and the anger. I’m trying my best to move on.” She paused. “Besides that, it’s too late anyway.”
“It is never too late. Quentin loves you. And more importantly, I know he loves the Lord. If Quentin will just pause and listen, he’ll hear God’s voice. He can turn back. Give me his number.”
Pastor Ford jotted Quentin’s number on a pad. “When’s a good time for you?”
“I’m available anytime.” Sheridan was surprised by the hope in her own voice. What was she wishing for? She had slammed shut that hope chest in her heart and wanted it to stay that way. It was over. Quentin had told her so. She stood. “Pastor, thank you for always caring about me.”
Pastor Ford hugged her. “Sheridan, I love you. And Quentin. And Christopher and Tori. There is no way I can not become involved in this. Quentin was this church’s Man of the Year and I know who he is in the Lord. I don’t know what this is about, but I know it’s not of God. And I’m going to remind Quentin of that.”
Sheridan nodded. She turned to leave, but then the pastor reached for her hand. “Before you leave, I want to pray for you.”
She bowed her head and tried to listen to Pastor Ford’s appeal to God for Sheridan to be blanketed with peace and for the scales to fall from Quentin’s eyes. But Sheridan couldn’t get her pastor’s other words from her mind.
“He’ll hear God’s voice. He can turn back.”
Could there be a chance that Quentin would admit his mistake? Was there a chance that he would come home?
For the first time since he’d walked out the door, the prospect of his returning seemed real. But now a larger issue loomed before her. Her husband left her. For a man. After all the tears, all the heartache, did she really want him back?
The stalker waltzed through her mind with his images. Quentin with Jett. Holding hands. Caressing. Kissing.
“Amen,” Pastor Ford said. When Sheridan opened her eyes, they were filled with tears.
Pastor Ford hugged her again. “My prayer is Quentin will be home very soon.”
Sheridan nodded because she didn’t have it in her to tell Pastor Ford the truth. The truth that no matter what epiphany Quentin experienced, she could never see herself in bed with him again.
Chapter Eighteen
“He’ll hear God’s voice. He can turn back.”
Sheridan’s mind hit the replay button, and the pastor’s words played again. And again. And the hope chest that she thought she’d locked, opened.
Could I do it? she asked over and over. Could I really take him back? Back in my bed?
Throughout the afternoon and evening, as she chatted with Tori and Christopher during dinner and helped them prepare for school, Sheridan surprised herself as she began to embrace the hope that she might get her life back.
When the telephone rang, at nine sharp, she didn’t have to answer it. Tori would get it before the third ring. When the ringing stopped, Sheridan tiptoed into the hallway. Downstairs only the kitchen light glowed, and Sheridan could hear Tori’s chatter. The moment Sheridan turned toward her bedroom, Tori yelled, “Mom, Dad wants to talk to you.”
“Okay,” Sheridan said. Quentin never asked for her, and Sheridan knew he’d spoken to Pastor Ford.
There was hope.
“Hi, Quentin.”
“Sheridan, Pastor Ford left a message on my cell.”
She smiled.
“She asked for a meeting with the three of us,” he said.
Anticipation made her heart pound.
“I have no intention of seeing her.”
Her smile left with her hope.
“I don’t know why you gave her my number.”
Sheridan swallowed. “She asked for it.”
“I don’t need to talk to her.”
It was only then that she noticed his tone, on the low end of anger. “You’ve always had a great relationship with Pastor Ford,” Sheridan said. “Maybe she can help us now.”
“I don’t need any help, Sheridan. I know what I’m doing.”
“If you’re so sure, why won’t you even talk to her? What are you afraid of?”
He hesitated and then said, “I’m not afraid. It’s just that I know what she’s going to say.”
“How do you know that?”
Frustration was in his sigh. “How many sermons has she preached on homosexuality being a sin?”
“Probably the same number of sermons she’s preached on fornication being a sin. Or lying being a sin. Or anything else. Quentin, Pastor Ford’s not judgmental in that way. It’s not like she wants to talk to you to prove you wrong…just…”
“Just what, Sheridan? She’s going to tell me I’m wrong for what I’m doing. She’s going to say I’m wrong for leaving my family. She’s going to say I’m wrong for having this desire, for being in love with a man.”
“And if she says that, Quentin, it’s all true. This isn’t right. You weren’t supposed to leave me and Christopher and Tori.”
“So what was I supposed to do? Suppress everything I’ve been feeling?”
“You were supposed to stay with your family, Quentin, and get the help you needed.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing when I came to you, Sheridan. I’d heard those stories of married men on the down low, exposing their wives to all kinds of diseases. I swore I would never do that to you.”
I don’t know if this is much better.
“Look,” he continued softly through her silence. “I thought you and I had found that space where you accepted me. I don’t want to fight with you. It’s not good for the kids and it’s not good for us.”
She wanted to tell him about the hope she’d had. The hope that was supposed to take him to the pastor’s office and turn him back into the man he once was.
He said, “I’m sorry.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Because I mean it. I wish things were different.”
His words left tears in her eyes and certainty in her heart. In her mind she tossed away the key to that hope chest, knowing she’d never look for it again. The storage space
in her heart with her dreams and desires for life as Dr. Quentin Hart’s wife was cleared forever.
“Good night,” she said, ready to bring this all to an end.
“Wait, Sheridan. One more thing. I want Christopher and Tori to stay over here with me next weekend.”
Those words dried her tears.
“I don’t know if Christopher will come,” he continued, “but I already talked to Tori, and she’s excited.”
Those words made her tremble.
“Next Friday, I’ll pick Tori up from school.”
Those words made her say, “I’ve got to go.” She didn’t wait to hear his good-bye. Sheridan tossed the phone onto the bed. Her hands were still shaking.
“He wants the children to come over to stay?” She spoke aloud, hoping the words would make more sense that way. They didn’t.
How could he ask her that? To share their children with his lover.
She had never thought about this. Never thought about sending her children to spend the night with Quentin and…another man.
“Why can’t he just see them here? Or take them out?”
She picked up the telephone and dialed quickly.
“Hey, girl,” Kamora said the moment she answered. “What’s up?”
“Do you have any more plum wine?”
“Oh, no, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, that was a joke,” Sheridan said, only half kidding. “I’ve had a hard day and just need something to take my mind off…” She stopped.
“I want Christopher and Tori to stay over here with me next weekend.”
She flopped onto the bed. “Just tell me something good. Something that will get my mind away from…”
“Oh, sweetie. It’s still hard with Quentin, huh?”
“You don’t even know.”
“Tell me. I’m a good listener.”
“You’re the best, but that’s all you’ve been doing. And I don’t want to talk about me.”
“Well I do have something I’ve been dying to tell you.” Kamora chuckled. “Last night Jackson and I…”
Sheridan wasn’t sure she wanted to hear anything about Kamora and Jackson. But it was something. Something that would drown out the words. Something that would drown out her thoughts. Something that would keep her mind away from a decision that she knew would change every single one of the Harts’ lives.
Chapter Nineteen
Sheridan couldn’t believe this was her first time seeing the doctor.
“Well,” Dr. Lees began. “I like your progress, Cameron.”
“So, my PSA is still declining?”
The doctor nodded. “It’s not yet where we want it to be, but we still have three weeks of treatment. We’ll get there. How’re you feeling?”
Cameron beamed. “As if I’ve been lying on a beach in Tahiti.”
“And I’ve been right next to him,” Beatrice said.
Dr. Lees laughed and looked at Sheridan. “I need to hire your parents to teach patients that attitude is half the battle.”
“Not attitude,” Beatrice corrected him. “Faith.”
Sheridan smiled at the doctor. “There you have it.”
The doctor stood. “Okay, Cameron. Let’s get you into the room.”
Cameron kissed Beatrice’s cheek and then followed the doctor to a room on the other side of his office. Beatrice and Sheridan left through the front door.
“We called your brother last night,” Beatrice said, as they walked into the waiting area.
“Really? Did he fuss at you for not telling him about Dad?”
“He didn’t go off like we thought he would, but he still wanted to come down here. Said with all this craziness happening, either he had to come down here or move us all up there.”
“That’s my brother.” Sheridan laughed.
“He’s concerned about you.”
“I know. I haven’t spoken to him this much since we were kids. He calls almost every day.”
“He knows the meaning of family. It’s killing him that he’s so far away.”
“I know. I’m so grateful for him. And for you and Daddy too.”
“We haven’t done anything.”
“I can feel your prayers.”
“We’ve been doing that.”
“Thank you, Mom,” Sheridan said, although her eyes were not on Beatrice. She was staring at a portrait of a man reading a book to a child. The picture tossed her thoughts back to Quentin and the images that had invaded her sleep and kept her turning throughout the night.
“How’re the children?” Beatrice asked, rescuing her.
“Fine.”
“That’s all you’re going to give me about my grandchildren?”
“They both seem to have found their place in this new life.”
“But you haven’t.”
Sheridan shrugged. “Children are more resilient. Tori’s decided nothing matters except that she loves her father. And Christopher…” She paused. “He doesn’t want to have anything to do with Quentin. But even he’s comfortable in his choice.”
“But you haven’t found your place.”
Sheridan’s stare returned to the portrait. “I go back and forth. At first all I wanted was to be back with Quentin. Then I was so angry that I couldn’t stand the sight of him. But then I decided the best way was to make peace—not only for the children, but for my own sanity.”
“That’s a good thing. All the feelings you’re experiencing are normal,” Beatrice said.
“I’m just tired of feeling like a human tennis ball going back and forth.”
“Be patient. You were married for so long, every emotion you have is tied to Quentin.”
“I want to feel normal again.”
“You are normal. Even in the best of circumstances, we go back and forth. Life is a trail filled with curves and bumps. Sometimes it’s smooth. Sometimes it’s straight. All the time it’s everchanging, just like you are.”
Sheridan smiled at her mother’s wisdom. “You sound like a philosopher.”
Beatrice chuckled. “I’m no philosopher, but I am a woman of faith who understands this life. And I’ve been through my own trials. Right now, your dad’s in some room having a life-threatening illness zapped out of him. But all I can see is the goodness of God. That we found the cancer early. That your father is responding to the treatments. That God is holding us up. I know He’ll carry me through. And if He’ll do it for me, He’ll do it for you.”
“I believe that. I just want to get to the other side.” She paused. “But the other side looks a long way away. There’s more confusion now.”
Beatrice’s eyes asked, How could that be?
“Quentin wants Tori to spend the weekend with him.”
“She must be excited about that.”
“He wants her to spend the weekend…with him and Jett. At their house.”
It took Beatrice a moment to ask, “How do you feel about that?”
“It scares me. It never occurred to me that Quentin would ask this. He’s seen Tori and Christopher at our house, and he’s taken Tori out. I expected it to stay that way.”
“He’s used to spending more time with his children.”
“I guess.” She twisted to face her mother. “What would you do?”
“Oh, no. I don’t tell grown folk what to do.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“But I will say this. No matter what you decide, remember that Quentin is still Tori and Chris’s father. Knowing Quentin, the only thing he’s done is left 1333 Belle Street. He left the house, not his children. God made him their father, even though the Lord knew a long time ago Quentin was going to do this.”
“Quentin says that God made him this way.”
“That’s a hot potato—especially with this gay marriage debate going on. Your father doesn’t agree with me, but I tend to side with Quentin.”
“Really?” Sheridan leaned in closer to her mother.
“I said I tend t
o side with Quentin. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t know why anyone would choose this lifestyle. Too much heartache associated with being gay in this country. Especially being black and gay. Who would want that? But there is something I do know. And that is Quentin would never hurt his children.”
“Mom, he’s already hurt them. He’s hurt all of us.”
Beatrice was silent for a moment. “I understand what you’re saying. Just take the time to pray about this. Go to the One who has all the answers.”
Sheridan leaned across the chair and hugged her mother, feeling as if somehow, maybe the right answer could be within her reach.
Chapter Twenty
There was only one way to handle the bumper-to-bumper freeway traffic.
Sheridan punched the speed dial number on her cell phone.
“Chandler and Lewis.”
“This is Sheridan Hart.” She chatted with the receptionist for a moment and then asked for her brother.
“Hey, sis,” he said, answering his phone. “What’s up?”
“I just dropped Mom and Dad off. Dad’s treatments are going well.”
“Yeah, Mom just called. You know I’m mad at you for not telling me about Dad.”
“They made me promise.”
“Well, now make a promise to me. If anything else happens, promise you’ll tell me no matter what those old people say. You know you can’t trust anyone over sixty. They make dumb decisions.”
Sheridan laughed. “Okay.” And as quickly as it came, her glee was gone. “There is something I want to run by you.” She filled him in on Quentin’s request.
“I can’t believe that nonsense.” Sheridan had to hold the phone away from her ear. “As much as I love Rosemary, if she ever pulled some crap like this, she’d never see our children.”
“You don’t have children.”
“Good thing, because Rosemary would never see them. You’re not going to let Tori go, are you?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Sis, it’s a no-brainer. You don’t need to spend a minute figuring this out. Homosexuality is a spirit.”
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