Sins of the Mother

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  The shouts were back. They were on their feet again, stomping, waving.

  He said, “Y’all might as well keep standing ’cause I’m just getting started!”

  “Hallelujah!”

  He said, “I’ve been trusting God in all of the good times, so am I just supposed to drop Him now? Am I just supposed to live and love God for the good, and then during the bad times, it’s something else? No!” He banged his hand on the podium. “This is when my faith is tested, and I’m telling you, Saints, I’m gonna pass this test, this time.”

  “Amen!”

  “You see, the test of our faith is not in the suffering alone, but in the not knowing what’s going to happen . . . and trusting God anyway. Look at Job again—if he’d known what was going to happen, what would have been the test? If he’d known the outcome, how could you call that trust?” he bellowed.

  “You know you right!”

  “You better come on!”

  “Preach!”

  Hosea let them shout. He motioned for the Minister of Music to hit the keyboard, and they danced as they shouted. They sang—not words to a familiar song; they sang a new song. The words were personal, from their hearts, thanking and praising God even in the midst. And Hosea sang and danced with them.

  He didn’t know how much time had passed before they’d worn themselves out, before they sat from pure exhaustion.

  Hosea was out of breath, but he continued, “And as I close, Saints, I want to leave you with this . . . the greatest test is to trust God’s goodness where we see no goodness in life.” They were contemplative now, silently listening. “That is what I’m doing. I cry—” He stopped abruptly.

  “Take your time,” rang out before some stood to their feet and clapped.

  He lowered his head; he didn’t deserve any applause—he hadn’t brought his daughter home yet. He motioned for them to sit. “I cry,” his voice cracked, “when I wonder about Jacqueline. I cry when I pray for her, but I still have joy,” he said, though his eyes were filled with tears. “Because joy is based on His presence in us. And my joy is based on the fact that though I don’t know what the future holds, I know who holds the future.

  “At the end of this story—whether here on earth or whether in heaven—God will be the victor. And that means that I, and Jasmine, and most importantly, Jacqueline, will be victorious, too. Amen and Amen!”

  Though they were weary, the parishioners were back on their feet.

  And Hosea was just as worn out as he backed away from the pulpit. This was the part of the service where his father took over. As Reverend Bush gave the altar call, Hosea slouched in his chair. With his eyes closed, he prayed a silent prayer of thanksgiving. It was a message to the people, but he’d been preaching to himself. He had to remember his joy. And as long as he had joy, he could have hope.

  “Come on down if you need prayer now,” he heard his father say. “Come now to the throne of grace. Come now to the mercy seat.”

  Hosea raised his head, and his eyes widened as he saw the two who led the way. Brian, holding Alexis’s hand, stopped in front of Reverend Bush.

  It shocked him, at first, but it didn’t take two seconds for Hosea to stand. He eased down the three steps that separated the altar from the rest of the sanctuary, and Alexis fell into his arms.

  “I’m so sorry,” she cried as he held her. “My heart aches for you.”

  He hugged her tight, tried to soothe her cries. He wanted to give her the strength that he’d just gained. Then, after another moment, he released her and embraced Brian. The two men held each other, recognizing, for the first time, their commonality. No matter how they had gotten here, the Bushes and the Lewises were in this together.

  When Hosea and Brian separated, he was surprised to see the many who stood behind them at the altar—Mae Frances, who was falling out from her tears, was standing only because Malik held her up. Mrs. Whittingham stood next to them, cradling a sleeping Zaya. Then there was Brother Hill, and Detective Foxx, and even Triage Blue and his wife, Deborah. And volunteers from the center who hadn’t been a part of their church, until now.

  All were standing with them. All were crying for them.

  “Reach your hands toward my family,” Reverend Bush said, shedding his own tears.

  Hosea stood in between Brian and Alexis and held their hands. And as the dozens surrounded them at the altar and the thousands sat in the seats, every head bowed, every eye closed. And the congregation sent up a united prayer for God’s grace, His mercy, and their hope that Jacqueline Bush would finally come home.

  Forty-three

  BRIAN CLASPED ALEXIS’S HAND AND helped her ease out of the taxi. “Are you sure about this?”

  She nodded. “Of course, I told you I’m with you.” She hooked her arm through his, as if that would seal her words. “I want to see what’s been set up for Jacquie.”

  He led her into the mall, and as they ascended on the escalator to the second level, he filled her in on the command center. The enthusiasm in her eyes encouraged him, and he shared the thought that rested in his heart. “I’m going to find her, Alex. I’m going to be the one to do it.”

  She squeezed his arm and told him that she had no doubt—if it was possible, he’d make it happen.

  He smiled and thanked God that she was with him here, with him now. He was sure that a great deal of Alexis’s eagerness to see the center was due to the fact that Jasmine wouldn’t be anywhere near this place. The truth was, he was glad about that, too. Not that he was happy that Jasmine wasn’t feeling well—that’s what Hosea had told him after church when he and Alexis had joined him and his father in their private offices. But he was glad that now that Alexis was here, there would be real separation between Jasmine and him. Separation was what they needed.

  Jasmine had a husband. And he had Alexis.

  “This is it,” Brian said before he pushed the door to the conference room open.

  But before he could even cross the threshold, Jasmine rushed into his arms.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, breathless. “I’ve been calling you; I’ve been . . .” She paused, frowned, then blinked as if she were having a hallucination. “Alexis?”

  Oh, no! Brian thought. But then he watched Alexis plaster on a smile that didn’t seem too fake as she stepped into the room.

  “Hi.” Her greeting was tentative, but then with more strength, Alexis said, “I hope you don’t mind my being here,” and she moved closer. “I want to help.” Reaching for Jasmine’s hand, she added, “I’m so sorry.”

  Jasmine flinched when Alexis touched her, as if she expected the contact to be much more than just a gentle stroke of sympathy. “Thank you,” Jasmine replied, her words wooden. Jasmine looked at Brian, awaiting an explanation.

  He said, “When we didn’t see you at church—”

  “You went to City of Lights?”

  He nodded. “We thought you were sick. I didn’t think you’d be here.”

  With a slight tilt of her head, Jasmine’s eyes thinned, like she was trying to figure out exactly what his words meant.

  She said, “I didn’t have any reason to go to church, but I have lots of reasons to be here.” Turning to Alexis, she asked, “So how long are you going to be in New York?”

  Alexis paused before she responded. “I’m . . . not . . . sure yet. A couple of days, I guess.”

  “Well, thank you for coming,” Jasmine said, her words softer this time.

  Then she turned and marched to the other side of the room. Alexis began to follow, but Brian held her back.

  “Do you want to leave?” he whispered.

  “No!” Alexis glanced around at the stacks of posters and leaflets and envelopes. She smiled as the five volunteers who’d come out on this Sunday afternoon to help looked her way. “There’s a lot of work to do.”

  Before Brian could say another word, Alexis strolled through the center, stopping to introduce herself to the others. Brian moved beside her, his eyes on
Jasmine the whole time. Jasmine and Alexis were a combustible combination, and he didn’t know what would be left standing if they had to share the same space for more than a couple of minutes.

  He held his breath as Alexis approached Jasmine and asked, “How can I help?”

  He didn’t give Jasmine a chance to respond, “Well, Jasmine and I have been focused on these flyers.” He passed one to Alexis, and she gazed at Jacqueline’s photo. He added, “We’ve been stuffing these envelopes—the flyers are being sent all across the country to doctor and dentist offices.”

  Alexis pulled out a chair on the other side of Jasmine. “I’ll help you stuff, if you want.”

  Brian wanted to keep talking for Jasmine, but now, he didn’t know what to say.

  Jasmine shrugged a little, as if she was as unsure as he was. She said, “This isn’t very hard; you don’t have to think much as you’re doing this.” She paused. “And for me, it’s easiest when I don’t have to think.” Then Jasmine looked up, and the expectation was all over her face. She was waiting for one of Alexis’s infamous put-downs—a one-line zinger like the others that Alexis had thrown Jasmine’s way over the years.

  Alexis said, “Then this is what I want to do, too.” She shrugged off her coat. “I want to work with you.”

  The ends of Jasmine’s lips spread into the smallest of smiles as Alexis slipped into the chair next to her. For a minute, Brian watched the two—who’d always considered each other more than a mortal enemy—work side by side.

  Then he squeezed into the chair on the other side of Jasmine and began folding flyers so that he could keep up. The women didn’t say a word—not to each other, not to him. But silence was probably best.

  To Brian, this time was bittersweet. A child had been taken from them, but what they’d found in the midst was a way to behave as adults. He wondered if this would last, but then he just as quickly tossed that thought aside. There was no need to worry about tomorrow. He was going to focus on the quiet blessings of today.

  Forty-four

  THIS WAS HARDER THAN ALEXIS thought it was going to be, harder than it was supposed to be.

  When Jasmine leaned over and whispered to Brian for what had to be the one hundredth time in fifteen minutes, Alexis jumped up so fast her chair fell backward onto the floor.

  In a second, Brian was behind her. “Honey,” he said, returning the chair to its upright position, “is something wrong?”

  “No”—she shook her head—“I just need a moment.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “Let’s walk outside.”

  “You stay here,” she said, waving her hand in Jasmine’s direction. She waited for Jasmine to look up, but she didn’t move. As if she knew what this was about. As if she knew that she had pissed Alexis off, and there was nothing Alexis could do about it. She said, “I’m just going to the restroom.”

  Brian hugged her before she walked away. “It’s hard now, but it gets better,” he whispered. “Each day you’ll be able to look at that flyer, and even though you’ll still be sad, it won’t be as bad.”

  Alexis nodded, indicating that he was correct to interpret her mood that way, that this was all about Jacqueline. But once she was outside, she wanted to turn back and scream that he was wrong—it was Jasmine who had made her behave like a madwoman. She stifled a scream before she punched open the door to the ladies’ room.

  It had seemed so right, her coming to New York last night. So what had happened?

  Jasmine!

  As much as she tried, Alexis just couldn’t like that woman, not even in the middle of this tragedy. She leaned against the sink, glanced into the mirror, and once again asked herself if Jasmine had anything to do with her daughter’s disappearance. Not that she could imagine any mother—not even Jasmine—doing this. But that woman just seemed to be getting too much out of this situation.

  She was getting Brian—he was so attentive, so concerned. And Jasmine was milking it; every other minute she was having another breakdown and Brian was right there, her refuge. Then in the minutes in between breakdowns, Jasmine just had to lean close to Brian and ask him this . . . or ask him that.

  Putting her fist up to her mouth, Alexis released a muffled scream.

  Where is Hosea?

  She wished Jasmine’s husband was here so that he could see what was going on. But Alexis knew Hosea wasn’t going to help. Even if he was here, he probably wouldn’t see what she saw. He would see only a grieving mother, which in fact was all there really was to see.

  “Stop it, Alexis,” she said to herself. She twisted the faucet, releasing the water full blast. Her thoughts were ridiculous, she knew that. Brian . . . loved . . . her! And there was nothing that Jasmine could do about it.

  So why did she feel that, at any moment, Jasmine and Brian could very well run away together?

  Leaning over the sink, Alexis flung cool water onto her skin and waited for the calm to come. She dabbed at her face with a paper towel, and when she tossed that paper into the trash, she threw away her absurd thoughts with it.

  She marched back toward the conference room with a new resolve. She wasn’t the whiny, jealous type. Never had been, never would be. She just needed to quit it. Get in there and suck it up. If anyone could do it, she could.

  Then she walked into the room. And stopped. And stood. And watched. Yet again, Brian had his arms around Jasmine, and Jasmine was weeping into his shoulder. Milking it!

  It was enough. It was too much.

  She whipped around and bumped right into Hosea. With just a quick glance at his face, she could see that he’d just observed the same scene. Taking her hand, he led her into the hallway to a bench that she’d passed a moment ago, supposedly with a new attitude.

  She sat next to Hosea, silent for a moment, until she asked, “How do you take it?”

  He gave her a small sigh and a slight shrug. “Jasmine and Brian are just sharing a common pain.”

  That’s all he said, but Alexis heard much more: that Jasmine and Brian had a common pain and now a bond that neither she nor Hosea would ever be able to share with them.

  She said, “You know, Brian and I just got back together.”

  Hosea’s eyebrows rose. “Really? I didn’t know that you two had broken up.”

  “It was more than broken; it was done. Brian and I are divorced.”

  “Wow.”

  “But recently we’ve been trying to work it out.” She paused. “I really think he’s the man God wants for me.”

  Hosea took her hand and squeezed it. “Well, if that’s the case, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to make it . . . now.”

  There was more quiet between them until Hosea said, “This shouldn’t tear you apart.” A pause. “It should bring you closer together.”

  Her head tilted. Again she heard it—more behind his words. This time, she wondered if he was even talking to her.

  He said, “We should get in there.”

  She nodded, but neither of them moved.

  “Don’t give up,” Hosea said. “There’s nothing going on with Jasmine and Brian.” He paused, stared at the blank wall in front of them. “Nothing. Nothing.” It sounded kind of like the words he’d used at the end of his sermon this morning, “Amen and Amen.”

  “Nothing?” Alexis hated the way she sounded. Like a whiny, jealous woman.

  He turned toward her. Took her hand again. And with water in his eyes and not a bit of conviction in his voice, he whispered, “Nothing.”

  And that made Alexis lower her head, close her eyes, and say inside, God, help us all!

  Forty-five

  MOMMY, I’M HOME!

  Jasmine heard those words, that voice, and she allowed them to play in her dreams over and over. Jacqueline was home, but it was who brought her that made this dream so special.

  The pictures in her mind played again: Brian carrying Jacqueline. Brian
saying, I brought our little girl home. And then Jacqueline’s voice followed.

  Close to consciousness, Jasmine knew that this was not reality. But she kept her eyes closed and let the scene repeat.

  Stretching, she slowly opened her eyes. But even fully awake, she wanted to stay right there in that dream.

  She heard Hosea say, “I’m going to get you,” in a voice that she knew was supposed to be a scary monster, but sounded more like the Cookie Monster.

  Then she heard Zaya’s giggles and the patter of his feet as he ran from his father.

  Jasmine couldn’t help but smile as she snuggled back into her pillow. This time, when she closed her eyes, all four of them were together: she, Jacqueline, Zaya . . . and Brian.

  With a sigh, she pushed herself up and wiggled back against the headboard. She needed to get Brian out of her head. But when he was around, she always felt so good, always felt such hope. Brian’s talk was all about finding Jacqueline. He wasn’t preparing for, wasn’t thinking about, any kind of future without her. Statistics didn’t matter to him. The number of days that had passed didn’t count. All Brian could see was that, one day, their daughter would be back.

  Why couldn’t we have been like this before?

  Jasmine still remembered the days when there had not been a pleasant word exchanged between the two of them. Only the sex had been civil. But it was different now—there was nothing but kindness and caring and . . . love.

  There. She admitted it. This felt like love to her. And she had no doubt that Brian felt the same way. She could tell by the way he was by her side—always, with a special word, with so much encouragement, and with his shoulder on which she could lean or cry. Yes, he had to be feeling the same way. He had to be feeling the love.

  Actually, if she thought about it, they had probably always been in love. That’s why they couldn’t stay away from each other. That’s why they always ended up in bed. That’s why they’d kissed even after she and Hosea were married—when they were in L.A. and Brian found out about Jacqueline’s paternity. Jasmine sighed now as she remembered that day. If her ex–best friend Kyla Blake hadn’t walked into Brian’s office, Jasmine had no doubt that she and Brian would’ve been on the floor, or on the desk, or leaning out the window making a sibling for Jacqueline.