Minutes later, the waiter stood, ready to take their orders.
“I’ll have the filet mignon,” Mae Frances said. “Medium-rare, please.”
As Jasmine scanned the menu, her stomach somersaulted. She took a sip of water, and ordered the house salad.
“Is that all you’re having?” Mae Frances frowned.
She nodded. “I’m not very hungry.”
As soon as the waiter walked away, Mae Frances said, “Since you’re always in my business, it’s time I got into yours. Why are you marrying that preacher man? Are you pregnant?”
Jasmine opened her mouth wide. Reverend Bush had thought the same thing. Did the world think Hosea Bush would only marry her if she were pregnant? “No, I’m not.”
Mae Frances narrowed her eyes. Studied her. Frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Hmph, you’ve got that glow.”
“This is the glow of love.”
Mae Frances sucked her teeth. “I ain’t never heard of that.” She peered at Jasmine. “If it’s not a baby, then why are you getting married? It just seems so quick, too soon.”
“Hosea and I have been together for five months. It may seem soon to you, but it seems right to us.” She wanted to add all the words that Hosea had said to his father—how God brought them together. But that couldn’t be part of this conversation. “And,” Jasmine continued, “I really love him.” Even though she repeated this to someone every day, those words were still a wonder to her.
When the waiter settled their meals in front of them, Mae Frances said, “I hope this marriage thing will work out for you.”
“It will.”
“You probably believe in all of that love is patient, love is kind stuff, don’t you?”
Jasmine chuckled. “Oh, so now you’re quoting Shakespeare?”
Mae Frances hesitated for a moment and then laughed. “Jasmine Larson, that ain’t Shakespeare. That’s from the Bible.” She shook her head.
“I knew it was from the Bible,” Jasmine lied. “I was just teasing you because you said you didn’t want to have anything to do with God.”
“I don’t. But I’ve heard a thing or two about that book that He and that carpenter son of His were supposed to have written. But anyway, you really think you love that preacher man?”
“I don’t think it, I know it.”
Mae Frances peered at her for a moment. “It’s just that I know men. I don’t trust them.”
“I trust Hosea.”
“I hope he doesn’t hurt you.”
“I’m sure he won’t.” Jasmine didn’t add that he wouldn’t hurt her, but she couldn’t say the same. She shook away the image of Brian before it came to her mind.
“You’re young, Jasmine Larson. A bit too naïve, if you ask me.”
Jasmine laughed so loud, she had to put her hand over her mouth. “If there is one thing I’m not, it’s young. I’m…thirty-five. And I’m certainly not naïve.” She paused, seriousness returning. “Mae Frances, the woman you know now is not the person I’ve always been.” In that instant, moments traveled through her memory that made her sad. Situations that she wanted to live over and live right this time. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”
Mae Frances waved her hand. “We all have a little trouble in our past.”
“My past is not that long ago.” She lowered her voice.
“If you’re talking about that other man, that’s not something to be ashamed of. You were just making up your mind between the two.”
Jasmine didn’t feel like explaining it all. “Whatever reasons I had, I want to keep my past far away from me. I want to live the rest of my life better and it’s all because of Hosea, the preacher man.”
Mae Frances chuckled. “I hope you can be happy, but it’s hard for me to believe in marriage. Hard for me to believe in men.”
Jasmine wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to believe in any of that—she only needed to believe in God. But she wanted to have a peaceful lunch.
Jasmine asked, “Your parents weren’t happy?”
It was Mae Frances’s turn to lean back and laugh. “My daddy was gone before I could walk. My mom was determined to give me a good life. After college, she made sure I met the right people. And that’s when I met and married Elijah Van Dorn.”
“I’m sorry life hasn’t gone the way you’ve wanted.”
“Well, it’s too late for me, but not for you. I love you, Jasmine Larson,” Mae Frances said. “Some people may say that I love you like a daughter. So, that’s why I wish you every bit of luck with this preacher man.”
Jasmine squeezed her neighbor’s hand.
For moments, they ate in silence until Mae Frances cut into her steak. “I don’t believe this,” she growled. Mae Frances waved her hand in the air, signaling for the waiter. “My steak is red,” she said with indignation. “I said I wanted it medium.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I thought you said medium-rare.”
“I know what I said, young man. I want a steak—medium, please.”
The waiter nodded, reached for Mae Frances’s plate, but she slapped his hand away.
Both the waiter’s and Jasmine’s eyes widened.
“What are you doing?” Mae Frances barked.
The waiter answered, “I thought you said—”
“What kind of restaurant is this? You’re actually going to take this steak and nuke it? I want another steak—and I want it medium! Please.”
The waiter looked at Jasmine, but she lowered her eyes.
When the waiter scooted away, Mae Frances asked, “So, do you have everything ready for your big day?” as if she hadn’t just scolded the server.
It took a moment for Jasmine to respond. “Yes, Hosea planned just about everything.”
Mae Frances frowned. “That’s not a good thing. You never know how your wedding’s going to be now. Men are such—”
Jasmine interrupted. “Mae Frances, would you stop it with your commentary on men and just be happy for me.”
“I said I was happy. What do you want me to do? A few cartwheels?”
“I want you to stop talking about Hosea like that.”
“I’m not talking about your preacher man. I’m talking about—” She stopped when Jasmine glared at her. “All right, Jasmine Larson. I just hope that one day, I won’t have to say, ‘I told you so.’”
“You won’t.”
The waiter rushed back to their table with another steak for Mae France, cooked medium.
Her fingers flittered in the air. “I’ve lost my appetite,” she said. “Wrap that up for me.”
The young man nodded.
“Here, take this piece too. Wrap it with that one.”
The man frowned.
Mae Frances eyed Jasmine’s barely touched salad. “Are you going to finish that?”
Jasmine shook her head.
“Wrap this up too,” Mae Frances ordered. “And I only want to see one steak on that bill.”
As the waiter marched away, Jasmine stifled her giggle. Now she understood how this woman had survived.
As if she hadn’t just scammed the waiter, Mae Frances said, “I hope you enjoyed our little lunch, Jasmine Larson. I know I did.”
Mae Frances opened her purse, and Jasmine did the same. She wondered what excuse Mae Frances would use this time—she had forgotten her wallet, or didn’t have time to go to the bank. But then Mae Frances slid a fifty-dollar bill onto the table.
With wide eyes, Jasmine said, “Mae Frances, I—this restaurant—it’s too much. Let me pay.”
Like always, her back became straighter, her face stiffer. “I invited you to lunch, Jasmine Larson. That means I’m paying.”
“But, I don’t mind—”
Mae Frances held up her hand. “No need to talk about this. I’ve told you over and over that I’m not a charity case.”
When the waiter returned with Mae Frances’s food wrapped, she finished the last of her
wine, stood, took the package, and handed the waiter the fifty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
She marched away, not taking notice of the frantic look on the waiter’s face.
“Miss,” he yelled behind her.
Jasmine tapped his arm, stopping him. “How much is the check?”
The young man’s hands shook as he looked down at the check and then the bill that Mae Frances had given him. “It’s seventy-eight dollars!”
Jasmine slipped the waiter two twenty-dollar bills. She smiled, and then followed Mae Frances to her waiting limousine.
Jasmine scooted to the edge of the bed and hung her head between her legs.
Almost an hour had passed since she returned from lunch, but still her stomach stirred. She was being held hostage by the nausea.
The telephone rang and Jasmine groaned. She wished the world would vanish—until she could figure out what was making her feel so sick. She took a deep breath before she answered. “Hello.” She tried to fill her voice with energy.
“Jasmine,” Ciara shouted, her voice frantic. “I just got a call from Reverend Bush and I’m praying. Do you have a copy of your birth certificate?”
Jasmine frowned. “Yeah, why?”
She could hear Ciara’s relief. “Thank God. We’ve been moving so fast, it slipped my mind. We have to get you and Hosea to the City Clerk’s office. For your marriage license.”
Jasmine sat straight up.
Ciara continued, “Hosea said he would send a car for you so that you can get right there. He has to be back on set in an hour. Can you be ready in ten minutes?”
“No, ah—”
“Jasmine, if we don’t get this license, you won’t be getting married on Saturday. Hosea’s schedule is packed for the rest of the week. We’re sending a car now. Be downstairs in ten minutes,” Ciara ordered and then hung up before Jasmine could protest further.
Slowly, Jasmine lowered the telephone.
The quickness of this wedding, the sickness that had overwhelmed her, had taken away her skills. She’d forgotten about a marriage license. Forgotten about how she’d have to walk into the clerk’s office and produce a birth certificate that would show her real age. And a driver’s license that would confirm what her birth certificate said—that she was a liar.
She rose from the bed and rushed into her closet. Inside, she lifted the plastic box that held her important papers and she gasped as she opened the top. Along with her birth certificate was her marriage certificate, as well as her divorce decree. All of these papers were in full view for the man who would be moving in with her next week.
Maybe I should burn these. But whatever she decided to do with the papers that held her ex-husband’s name, she couldn’t think about that now.
Jasmine stuffed her birth certificate deep inside her purse. She wasn’t sure how she would handle the situation, but she knew that Hosea would never see her papers. He couldn’t—even if it meant not being able to get a marriage license.
“It won’t come to that,” she said as she locked her front door. But as she rode the elevator down, she wasn’t so sure of her words.
She saw Hosea the moment the Town Car slowed in front of the City Clerk’s office. And her nausea returned. When the car stopped, he rushed over and helped her step out.
“Hey, darlin’,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “Can you believe everyone forgot about this?” He took her hand and led her up the steps into the City Clerk’s office. A guard directed them to Room 203. “We wouldn’t be getting married on Saturday if Pops hadn’t reminded me.”
As he rushed toward the room, Jasmine was glad that Hosea didn’t notice that she had not spoken. She couldn’t use her energy to speak. Had to use every bit of strength to concentrate only on the task in front of her.
Although two couples were talking to clerks, there was no one in line and a slim, fifty-something woman motioned for them to step to her station.
“We’re getting married on Saturday,” Hosea said. “And we forgot to get the license. I hope it’s not too late because I want to marry this woman.”
The woman laughed. “You have plenty of time. You actually have up until twenty-four hours before the wedding.”
Jasmine thought, Good to know.
The woman peered at the two. “So, are you the couple?”
Hosea nodded. “Doesn’t she look like my wife already?”
The woman laughed again. “Yes, she does. So lovely, both of you. Now, there are two ways to do this.” She paused. “I can give you forms to fill out, or I can input this information right into the computer. Which would you prefer?”
“The forms,” Jasmine said.
“The computer,” Hosea said.
They looked at each other and the woman chuckled. “Oh, no, your first fight,” the woman kidded.
“It’s just that I’m in a hurry,” Hosea said, “and I thought the computer would be faster.”
“It would be.” The lady tapped on the keyboard in front of her. “This won’t take long. I just need your driver’s licenses and your birth certificates.”
Jasmine watched as Hosea placed an envelope on the counter. Slowly, she pulled her certificate from her purse and then shifted through her wallet for her license. She waited until the woman looked up before she handed the papers directly to her.
The woman scanned Jasmine’s driver’s license and birth certificate. “Is this information correct?”
Jasmine swallowed, nodded.
“You live in Florida?”
“Oh, no, I’m a New York resident now. Is this a problem?”
“No, as long as you’re getting married in New York.” The woman rested Jasmine’s documents on the counter and tapped the computer keys. “Give me your current address.”
As Jasmine responded, she could see Hosea twisting his neck, glancing at her papers.
“So, sweetie, you’re in a hurry?” she asked, forcing him to face her. “What do you have going on today?”
“Just meetings, and then more meetings.”
“I’m sorry that you’re so rushed,” she purred straightening his tie.
The way he grinned, Jasmine knew his thoughts about her papers were forgotten.
He said, “I don’t mind being rushed this week because I don’t want anything on the calendar while we’re on our honeymoon.”
She hugged him. Over his shoulder, she watched the woman’s fingers glide across the keys.
“Okay,” the woman said and pushed Jasmine’s papers aside. “Now, Mister…,” she paused as she looked at his driver’s license. “Mr. Bush. Hosea Bush.” She paused again and then glanced up. “You’re Hosea Bush?” She beamed. “I didn’t recognize you.”
Hosea grinned. As he gave the woman his New York address, Jasmine slid her papers off the counter and stuffed them back inside her purse. She didn’t breathe until her bag was zipped and snug against her side.
“Darlin’, did you hear that?”
“No, I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Ms. Lewis wants me to speak at her church. To their teen ministry,” he said as he handed the woman a business card.
“That would be terrific,” Jasmine said, taking Hosea’s arm. “My husband is a wonderful speaker.”
“Oh, I’m your husband already, huh?” He grinned.
“My first and last,” she said.
“Well, that answers my next question,” Ms. Lewis said, “but I have to ask anyway. Have either of you been married before?”
“No,” Hosea said.
“Why do you need to know that?” Jasmine’s voice quivered.
Ms. Lewis waved her hand in the air. “You would not believe the number of people who come in here trying to marry someone, when they are already married. If someone were married before, we’d need the divorce certificate.”
“Neither of us were married,” Hosea said.
Ms. Lewis turned back to the computer and tapped more keys. Jasmine’s heart pounded and she wondered why she�
�d ever told that lie.
“Well, that just about does it,” Ms. Lewis said, minutes later. “It’ll take just a few minutes for the license to print.”
Hosea glanced at his watch. “Do I have to be here for that?”
“No, not if your fiancée can wait.”
“Great. I’ll see you later, darlin’.” He kissed Jasmine’s cheek. “And don’t lose that license. We have a date on Saturday.” He waved to the clerk and then disappeared into the hallway.
“He’s a wonderful young man.”
Ten minutes later, she handed Jasmine the form that gave the state’s permission for the two to wed. “I wish you a long, wonderful, and prosperous marriage,” Ms. Lewis gushed. “May God bless you.”
“He already has,” Jasmine said speaking the truth. It was clearer than it had ever been before that God wanted her united with Hosea. Because in spite of all that she’d done wrong, he was blessing her.
“Thank you, God,” she whispered the moment she was in the hallway. “I promise, no more lies.”
Chapter 32
Jasmine’s head was as heavy as a boulder.
She’d hoped just laying her head on her desk for a moment would help, but minutes later, she still hadn’t raised her head. She’d felt this way all week, even though she’d taken three days off. After getting the marriage license on Monday, she’d expected to spend the rest of the week lounging, but wedding plans would not let her rest.
On Tuesday, Sebastian called to announce that her dress was ready. But at the fitting, he had fussed like a disapproving parent.
“Cherie, this is not good. We are not happy.” He’d flitted around, adjusting, tugging, marking as she stood in the middle of the living room in her dress. “We are eating too much and we cannot do that. This material is temperamental and we must do everything we can to look fabulous.”
Jasmine had wanted to tell Sebastian that she hadn’t felt well enough to eat at all. But she didn’t have the energy to defend herself.
Then yesterday, after meeting with Ciara for a final run-through, she’d accompanied Hosea to his doctor’s appointment. At least her fiancé was doing fine.
This morning, when she’d awakened, she decided to dash into the office to clear her desk.
A Sin and a Shame Page 20