She leaned across the console and kissed him. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll love you always.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
He held her hand as she waddled across the freshly shoveled driveway. Opening the front door, he yelled, “Anybody home?”
Chatter, laughter, the clanging of glasses fused with Nat “King” Cole crooning about chestnuts—the home was merry with Christmas.
Standing at the edge of the living room, Jasmine forced herself to stay in place when all she wanted to do was cut and run. She hadn’t asked about Reverend Bush’s guest list, but she should have known his home would be filled with those he considered family—his church family. Among the dozen or so familiar faces from City of Lights, there was Brother Hill and Mrs. Whittingham moving around the ten-foot Christmas tree as if they were at home.
“Son!” Reverend Bush exclaimed when he finally noticed the two. He hugged Hosea and then kissed Jasmine.
“Welcome to my home, Jasmine. I can’t believe this is your first time here.”
“Well, Pops, you have to admit, this is kinda far and we see you every week in the city.”
“Still,” Reverend Bush said to Jasmine, “I’m glad you’re here.” He helped her with her coat and then grinned. “My, my,” he said as Jasmine straightened her sweater over her swollen stomach.
“I know,” Jasmine breathed. It seemed as if her waist had expanded ten inches since last Sunday. Although she no longer searched for his suspicion inside his words, Jasmine still had to be careful. These last weeks were going to be the hardest. The lie was that she was almost twelve weeks away from giving birth. But the truth was she was six weeks away.
Reverend Bush said, “Looks like you’re almost ready.”
“That’s what I said, Pops. But Dr. Edmonds said that the baby is just healthy.”
Reverend Bush said, “Maybe you’re having twins.”
“Wouldn’t that be great?” Hosea beamed.
“No!” Jasmine said to both laughing men. “It wouldn’t be great.”
“Come on in,” Reverend Bush said, leading them into the sunken living room. “I’ll get you some eggnog.”
Brother Hill was the first to greet them. “Hosea.” He hugged him and then said, “Jasmine.”
With a nod, she said hello. Did the same with Mrs. Whittingham. She tried to keep her festive smile as others came over to spread their Christmas cheer. Everyone had something to say about the baby—boy, girl, twins, carrying high, hanging low, coming early, never early, long labor, the commentaries continued. And then there was the laying on of hands—everyone touched her stomach as if her body belonged to them.
Not forty-five minutes passed before Hosea grabbed her and the two slipped from the room. Following her husband, she climbed the short steps that led to the second floor.
“Where are we sneaking to?” Jasmine giggled.
“My old bedroom,” he whispered. “I could tell those people were getting on your nerves.”
“No, they weren’t.”
“Stop lying. They were getting on my nerves too.”
They held their laughs until Hosea opened the door to the room farthest down the hall. When Jasmine stepped inside, her giggles stopped. She had stepped into the middle of the 1980s.
One wall was covered with faded pictures of Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. On the other, the dulling posters were of Michael Jackson in his Billie Jean pose and a picture of the ensemble from “We Are the World.”
Slowly, she walked through the room past the long twin-sized bed and the dresser covered with dusty trophies.
“I received these for track and field,” Hosea said, holding up one of the awards.
“You ran track?”
He nodded. “What did you think? I was a bowler?”
“Well, a runner—”
“You’d better take that look back. I was slender in my early years.”
“I love you the way you are now.”
Her journey continued, touching, exploring, connecting with her husband’s past. In front of the dresser, she paused. Picked up a picture. Laughed out loud.
“I know you ain’t clownin’ a brother,” he said.
“I don’t have to.” She held up the senior class picture for him to see. “You did a pretty good job clownin’ yourself. I’m glad you got rid of that curl.”
“Shoot. That was nineteen eighty-eight. I’d like to see what you looked like then.”
She shook her head. “I ain’t crazy. You’re never going to see any old pictures of me.”
“Hmph. I bet Serena’s got a couple of photos.”
She laughed, but made a note to speak to her sister. Hosea couldn’t see or be told anything without her approval.
Inside, she sighed. It was moments like this when she longed to tell Hosea the truth. She wanted to share all of herself.
Hosea pulled her into his chest, wrapped his arms around her. But it was moments like this, when his arms were warmer than her mink coat, that she knew her lie was stronger than the truth could ever be. Hosea loved her more because she was carrying his baby.
“Next year at this time, we’ll be celebrating our second Christmas with our first child.” He paused. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could feel his thoughts.
“You’re thinking about your mom,” she whispered.
“How’d you know?”
“Because I’m thinking about my mom…and my dad.”
With the tips of his fingers, he lifted her chin. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I have a little bit of sad, but I’m mostly happy.”
“I have some sad too. But I have a lot more happy because of you.”
A knock startled them, and Reverend Bush opened the door.
“Son, didn’t I tell you not to bring girls up here?” Reverend Bush laughed.
“Oh, my bad.”
“Well, whatever you two are doing, it has to stop. We’re about to chow down.”
“Gotcha, Pops.”
When the reverend closed the door leaving them alone, Hosea said, “I wish we didn’t have to go down there.”
“Are you kidding? That’s where the food is and our baby is hungry.”
“Is she now?” Hosea said, before he bowed and kissed her stomach.
“Oh, she’s a she today, huh?”
He grinned. “Just want you to know that I’m an equal opportunity dad.” He paused. “Dad, dad. I love that word.”
“Let’s go eat,” she said.
“Well, you’re in for a treat. Mrs. Bower has been Pops’ cook since Mom passed. And I’m telling you, she can whip up some things that will have you slapping somebody else’s mama.”
She grabbed his hand. “Now that sounds like fun.” She laughed as she imagined giving Brother Hill or Mrs. Whittingham a slap or two. But she got rid of that un-Christian thought. It was, after all, Christmas.
Only remnants of the dinner remained.
Still, the aroma of the Cornish hens, ham, macaroni and cheese, yams, collard greens, rice with gravy, and biscuits spilled into the living room. Jasmine staggered in first, and flopped onto the couch.
“You were right,” she said, when Hosea lowered himself next to her. “Mrs. Bower sure can cook.”
Hosea laughed.
“Okay.” Reverend Bush clapped his hands twice. “Our stomachs need a little time to make room for the dessert. So, I say, let’s get to the gifts.”
Jasmine closed her eyes and moaned. She’d indulged well past the point of satisfaction and was sure she’d be wedged to this couch for the next month. But still, she wished she and Hosea could make a graceful exit since they’d agreed not to exchange gifts until after the Christmas rush.
“Darlin’.”
“Hmmm.” She didn’t open her eyes.
“Look at this.”
First, she peeked through one eye and then the other. Then both stretched wide with surprise. “I thought—”
“We weren’t exch
anging gifts?” He chuckled. “You didn’t think I’d really stick to that on our first Christmas.”
She grabbed the light blue box and when she lifted the lid, she gasped at the diamond key-shaped pendant. “This is beautiful.”
“I just wanted you to know,” he said, tapping his chest, “that you will always have the key to my heart.”
It had to be the corniest line she’d ever heard, and the most wonderful. She hugged him, held him as close as her swollen belly would allow.
She twisted around and held up her ponytail as he clasped the chain. The key rested just inches above her heart. “I’m never taking this off.”
She leaned back into his arms and watched the others across the room.
“Now this is nice,” Reverend Bush said as he pulled a purple silk monogrammed smoking jacket from a box.
“That’s very nice,” Mrs. Whittingham gushed.
“This is from my son and daughter-in-law.” The reverend grinned. “But if I had to guess, Jasmine picked this out because my son, although I love him, his taste isn’t this good.”
They laughed.
“First of all, Pops, I’ve got great taste. Look at the woman I married.”
Jasmine didn’t miss the glance that traveled between Brother Hill and Mrs. Whittingham.
“And second,” Hosea continued, “I’ll have you know I selected that for you. So, now what do you have to say?”
“Only thank you, son.” He hugged him and then kissed Jasmine. “Now, I have something for you two.” He handed them a Ralph Lauren box.
They scooted to the edge of the couch and Jasmine took out a pink-and-blue coverall. Underneath, there was a pink-and-blue hat and matching booties. And finally, Jasmine pulled out a cashmere baby blanket.
“I know we still have a few months, but I want to make sure that my grandchild comes home in style.”
“This is perfect.” Jasmine grinned. “It’ll work for a grandson or a granddaughter.”
The reverend laughed. “I was trying to be right, but then I couldn’t help myself.” He handed a second box to Hosea.
Laughter lifted through the room when Hosea held up the catcher’s mitt.
Reverend Bush shrugged. “Sue me. But first, I’d like to make a toast. Does everyone have eggnog?” The reverend waited until all held glasses were raised in the air. “To my friends and family. As we celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior this is the perfect time to note new beginnings. While I’m fortunate to be surrounded by old friends, this Christmas holds new blessings. First, my son is home for good.” He smiled at Hosea. “And then, he blessed me this year with a daughter-in-law. And now on this day when we celebrate one birth, we are looking forward to another—my first grandchild.” He paused as everyone’s eyes turned to Hosea and Jasmine. Even Brother Hill and Mrs. Whittingham wore smiles. “Welcome to this family, Jasmine. And I look forward to a lifetime of Christmases with you, Hosea, and…my grand…children.”
With nods and “Cheers,” they clicked their glasses.
Jasmine smiled. “Thank you.” She paused before she added, “Dad.” She spoke softly, as if she didn’t want him—or anyone else—to hear.
But his smile revealed that he’d heard and was pleased. “Okay, let’s continue this gorge feast. Our desserts are waiting.”
While the others followed Reverend Bush, Hosea pulled Jasmine back down on the couch with him. “This is the happiest I’ve seen my pops in years.”
“Really? I can’t imagine him any other way,” Jasmine said, thinking that even when he was beating her down with his words, he always did so with a smile.
“Pops hides it, but I know it’s been hard since Mom passed. But now, that look in his eyes.” Hosea stopped and pulled her closer. “The Bush men are happy and it’s all because of you.”
Jasmine snuggled deeper into her husband’s embrace and fondled the key on her neck. “Amen and amen,” she whispered to herself.
Chapter 47
Jasmine wore nothing but a T-shirt.
It was the same T-shirt—her husband’s—that she wore last night as she and Hosea had snuggled on the couch and sipped sparkling cider, munched Oreo cookies, and watched New Year’s Rockin’ Eve without Dick Clark counting down to 2005.
By twelve-ten, they were in bed and it was the best New Year’s she could remember.
Even this morning, as they lay holding each other and doing nothing more than staring at the ceiling, Jasmine did not want to get out of bed.
“Darlin’, what time are we supposed to be at Rio?”
“Noon,” she moaned. “I wish I’d never agreed to go.”
Although the club had been open until four that morning with partiers bringing in the New Year, Rio was opening again at noon for what Malik called a New Year’s fête. The club’s standard Mexican fare was being traded for African American New Year’s Day staples: gumbo, black-eyed peas, red beans and rice, country ham, fried chicken, and cornbread. The only thing missing were the chitterlings that Jasmine had refused to allow within a mile of the club.
“If we’re supposed to be there at noon then get up now.” Hosea nudged his wife. “You first.”
“Why?”
“Because you take much longer than I do.”
“Well,” she began, “we could shower together.”
“And we’ll never get out of here. Now, go.”
With a sigh, she rolled from the bed. She really wanted today alone with her husband. It was more than just a newly-wed thing. Jasmine wanted to savor these moments of togetherness, knowing that in a few weeks, the times when they could say “just the two of us” would be forever gone.
Her legs were heavy as she shifted toward the bathroom. A month ago, with Hosea watching her, she would have added a bit of sway to her step. But now all she could do—four weeks before she was due to become a mother—was place one foot in front of the other.
Still, with the appreciation that only a man in love could give, Hosea whistled.
Two hours later, they were standing in the middle of Rio, only fifteen minutes after noon.
“Hey,” Malik greeted them over the blasting music. Today, Usher and Alicia Keys replaced the regular beats of Shakira and Cabas.
Malik kissed her cheek and then shook Hosea’s hand. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”
“If I’d known I had a choice, my husband and I would be at home, in bed, right now.”
“Oh.” Malik held up his hand. “Too much information, Godsister,” he joked. “But, don’t stretch yourself. I know you get tired quickly these days, so head out whenever you want.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to let her overdo it,” Hosea said.
They zigzagged through the maze of rented-for-the-day tables that covered the dance floor. Invited guests were sprinkled through the space, but Jasmine knew the club would be filled once the late-morning risers started arriving. They settled at a table away from the center of the festivities.
“In the back, in the corner, in the dark,” Jasmine said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a few illicit thoughts, Mr. Bush.”
He chuckled. “I always have illicit thoughts when I look at you, darlin’.”
“I doubt that,” she said, easing her swollen middle between the chair and the table. She’d done the best she could with her weight but still, she’d gained twenty-three pounds, normal for a thirty-six-week pregnancy. But it was enough to raise eyebrows whenever Hosea proudly announced that their baby was due in March.
“Wow, are you having twins?” was what she heard constantly.
Blessedly, Hosea still had no suspicions. Blinding love and Dr. Edmonds made sure of that.
“Darlin’, do you want something to drink?”
She nodded. “Orange juice.” Jasmine pulled her compact from her purse as Hosea walked away. And, she freshened her lip gloss.
“Hey, darlin’.”
She smiled. Looked up. He snatched her smile away.
“Brian,” s
he sputtered his name.
“You’re looking good.” He sat down before she could stop him.
“What—what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to catch her breath and a glimpse of Hosea at the same time.
“I came to see you.”
“I’m…” she paused, trying to remember what she needed to say, “here with my husband.”
“I heard you got married.” He poked out one of his lover’s lips. “Gotta tell you, Jasmine, my feelings were hurt again. I don’t know how you keep losing my address. Another party, and I didn’t get an invitation.”
“Brian, please, I can’t—” She edged closer to the table to conceal her added weight.
He leaned across the table, taking away what little comfort she had left. “I know you can’t right now, but we can still work this out.” He grinned. “It’s actually better when both cheaters are married.”
She wanted to tell him “Never again.” But her brain had stopped telling her lips what to do. Her mind was only sending signals to her lungs commanding her to breath.
“So, whaddaya say? When can we get together again?”
“Hey,” Hosea said, placing a glass on the table. “Here’s your juice, darlin’.” Then, he turned to Brian. “We’ve met, haven’t we?”
Brian stood. Shook Hosea’s hand. “Yes, at the restaurant. I was with my wife and—”
“Yeah, I remember,” Hosea said as he sat and motioned for Brian to do the same. “Brian, right? So, what brings you to New York?”
“Your wife.” He paused just long enough for Jasmine to believe these were the last moments of her life. Then Brian chuckled. “I always like to come to New York to support Malik and Jasmine.” His eyes roved through the club. “They’ve done a fantastic job with Rio.”
Hosea peered at him. “You came all the way to New York for this?” he asked, his voice stiff.
“That and other things.” Brian grinned. Looked at Jasmine. “So, I hear congratulations are in order. You two hooked up, huh?”
“Yeah.” Hosea’s smile was back. “She holds the key to my heart.” He took her hand and squeezed it.
“That’s great. I guess I don’t have to ask what you’ve been up to.” Brian laughed.
A Sin and a Shame Page 28