by Ronn Elmore
“Wait a minute.” Dwayne held up his hand. “Are you in remission now?”
She nodded slightly and then began rocking herself back and forth. “The doctor said I have to be in remission for five years to be considered cancer-free. That hasn’t happened. I was hopeful, but the cancer came back again.”
He repeated his question. “But you’re in remission now?”
“Yes, but I don’t know what’s going to happen. It would be unfair to get involved with anyone, especially you. You’ve only recently gotten over Yvette. Now here I am. I couldn’t have you love me and then lose me.”
“It’s too late for that,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I already love you and I know you love me. So regardless of what happens here tonight, if something happens to you, I’ve already lost.”
She bit her lip and allowed her fingers to glide across his cheek.
“But we’re not going to lose,” he said.
“How do you know that?” Her voice was full of hope.
“Because of where we’re starting. Nina, how many people have a chance at what we have? We’ve denied it over and over and allowed everything to get between us and yet here we are. Doesn’t that say something?”
She wanted to speak—to unload the burden she’d carried alone for so long—but still she held back.
“Please don’t fight me on this. I want to be there for you and Omari. Nina, we can do this together.”
She opened her eyes and the floodgates at the same time. He pulled her to him and this time she didn’t resist, closing her eyes and opening her heart. For the next several hours, they alternated between talking, kissing passionately, and holding each other close, while exchanging fears, hopes, and plans for the future.
When the clock struck three, both knew their doubts were gone.
“Omari is going to be so thrilled. He loves you already.”
“Not any more than I love him.”
He leaned forward and kissed her. “It’s time for me to get out of here.”
She followed him to the door, where once again they held each other, neither wanting to release the embrace, but instead to freeze the moment as if it were their last.
“I love you, Nina Jordan.”
“I’ve always loved you, Dwayne Grandison.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Beverlyn looked at the certified envelope again, then reread the letter and its three-page attachment. Finally, she let the papers slip onto her desk and dropped her face in her hands. She didn’t even look up when she heard the knock on the door.
“Beverlyn, I need to speak to you.” L.W. stopped when he saw his niece’s face. Closing the door behind him, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“We’re in trouble.”
Slowly, he walked across the massive office and sat across from her.
“Beverlyn Boudreaux Ministries, the Jubilee Network.” She held up her hands. “All of it—we’re in trouble, Uncle Linson.”
L.W. took a deep breath. For the past month, they had battled the backlash from the Higher Ground fallout. Seemed there was a new fire to put out with each day. From sponsors pulling away to investors demanding reports and audits. Even their viewers had turned their backs: The network’s ratings were dropping like lead balloons, and the private contributions that made up almost fifty percent of their income just two months ago had dwindled to a fraction of what they had been. The mail was indicative of the public’s sentiments. Last season, praise reports flowed in—now the mailroom was overflowing with hate mail.
As if that wasn’t enough, with word of what had happened in the lawyers’ settlement meeting, there had been a move on the part of key board members to have L.W. ousted from the board.
“You handled this pretty badly, L.W.,” one of the members had said. “We had to shell out over nine hundred thousand dollars to Grandison and just barely avoided a lawsuit.”
While the motion to have him ousted died in the first round of votes, there was no doubt in his mind that this was only their first attempt. He swallowed as he twisted in his seat, waiting for Beverlyn to reveal the latest bombshell. “What is it now?” he asked.
Beverlyn handed him the letter from the board of directors of Christian Empire, a financial services and insurance company that was the network’s largest investor. L.W. glanced over the first page, then looked at Beverlyn. “They’re calling in their loan.”
“How could this be happening to me?” she groaned.
L.W. sweltered beneath his niece’s stare. He had miscalculated. Dwayne Grandison was the one who was supposed to experience ruin—not them. What was happening at Beverlyn Boudreaux Ministries was turning his long-term dreams into a short-fused nightmare. And the biggest disaster was that this had come by his own hands.
“They can’t call in their loan, can they?” he asked.
“Uncle Linson, they can do whatever they want. To be honest, I just don’t care anymore.”
L.W. leaned forward in his seat. “You can’t give up. We’ve worked too hard.”
“Yeah, but it seems the longer we fight, the more we lose. For the last month, it’s been one catastrophe after another. We haven’t been able to repeat the success of Higher Ground, and everything else at the network is falling apart. It’s like the devil has his hands all over this.”
L.W. loosened his tie. “Beverlyn, you’re blowing this up. Give it time.”
“We don’t have time,” she snapped. “I’m sorry. I just feel so helpless. I am tired of fighting all of this.”
“I am as well, but what is there left to do?”
Beverlyn raised her eyebrows. She couldn’t remember the last time her uncle had asked her that. He was the one with the ideas—with solutions to every unsolved opportunity. But as she looked at him now, she saw the toll this tragedy was taking. The dark lines under his eyes were more pronounced. In that second, she decided. There was no way they would survive—emotionally or financially—unless they got out now.
“Uncle Linson, I’m going to sell the Jubilee Network.”
“We can’t do that.”
“We have to.”
“Who’s going to buy it the way things are now?”
“I thought of that,” she answered. “This morning I met with the accountants.” She took a deep breath. “Ian recommends bankruptcy. He feels the network’s hefty debt load would keep buyers at bay.”
Besides, Beverlyn was not about to open herself up to a lot of speculative tire-kicking and skeptical press.
“Beverlyn, it’s been just two months. It can’t have come to that already.”
“Yes, it has.” Tears stung her eyes. “The numbers are so bad that I don’t see any other way out.”
“But where will that leave us?”
“We’ll be fine,” she assured him, fighting back tears. “I can still speak and sing …” Her voice faded. Then she said, “We may have to give up a few things. I’ll have to sell the house, downsize, and liquidate some of our assets. But we can do it.”
L.W. was not only stunned but speechless as well. Right before him, his future had dissipated into ashes. Where would they go? What would happen next?
“It would be better if we returned to New Orleans,” she continued.
L.W. stood. He could hear no more. “Excuse me,” he said simply, and walked from the office.
Beverlyn looked after L.W. She knew her uncle. Once he thought about this, he would see it for what it was—the best for both of them.
Dwayne Grandison had cost her so much. She stood and went to the window. This will never happen again, she thought. There is only one person on this earth I can trust. She looked up to the sky. “Thank you, God, for Linson Lejohn.”
Darkness filled his office, but L.W. made no move to turn on the light. Hours ago, he’d heard most of the employees leave. Even Beverlyn had come by, knocking on the door. But she’d gone away when she found the door was locked. For hours, he’d been staring into the darkness. Still, there were no solutions
. He leaned back against the chair. His world was falling apart and he couldn’t even cry. He hadn’t cried at his mother’s funeral, and although there was everything to cry about now, there was nothing to be gained. For almost thirty years, he had carefully cultivated the rise of Beverlyn Boudreaux. Now, because of one mistake, his niece was talking bankruptcy.
“Damn you, Dwayne Grandison.”
He returned to the desk, unlocked the left side of the credenza, and pulled out his cognac. He half filled a crystal brandy snifter and began sipping. He finished the first glass and poured another. By the time he’d poured his third drink, he had the answers he’d been seeking.
He was Linson Lejohn—the man who created this empire. Giving up was not an option. Even if they sold the network, there was still plenty of money to be made through Beverlyn—after all, she was the commodity. They wouldn’t be the multimillionaires he’d imagined and there’d be no more private jets, but they would be able to get by on a million or so each year. She’d just have to speak more. And she could produce more than one album a year. He would even suggest that she write another book, maybe two. Finally, he would devise for her the perfect testimony to win back those who’d fallen out with her. Why, in a few months, it would be like this disaster had never happened.
He beamed as he thought of the options. Who knew what was out there waiting for him?
His cell phone rang. He was sure it was Beverlyn.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Lejohn?”
“Who’s speaking?”
“Reverend Powell.” The voice laughed.
Slowly, L.W. lowered himself into the chair. “Who is this?”
“You heard me.”
L.W. felt his heart beginning to pound. He’d never known the true identity of the counterfeit evangelist. He hadn’t wanted to. And they had only met the day of the show.
“What do you want?”
“You’re a businessman, like me. What do you think I want?”
L.W. said nothing.
“More money.”
“You’ve been paid,” L.W. said.
“Well, not entirely. I guess Mr. Allen didn’t mention that the twenty-five thousand dollars was just a down payment.”
L.W. took a deep breath. Allen was a shady private detective that he had asked to “hire” Reverend Powell. It was all supposed to be done through Allen; Powell was not to have any direct contact with L.W.
“Reverend Powell, or whatever your name is, I don’t think you want to go up against me,” L.W. said.
“I hope you’re not threatening me. I’d have to charge you more for that. Besides, you have nothing to threaten me with. You don’t even know who I am. Ah, but I know everything about you—right down to how much your company is losing because you miscalculated with your scheme against Dwayne Grandison. With a few phone calls to the press, I can finish off the job.”
“If you do that, you’ll get nothing.”
“Then again, I have nothing to lose.”
L.W. closed his eyes in an effort to review his options. There weren’t many. Although the future of the network was no longer an issue, Beverlyn Boudreaux’s credibility was still intact. A further scandal would indeed be the final blow. L.W. sighed. Just as Beverlyn was talking about cutting back, it appeared he was going to be shelling out some pretty big bucks.
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand dollars. I’ll call you back with the arrangements. Oh, and it’s nice doing business with you, Mr. Lejohn.”
There was a click and the phone went dead.
How ridiculous this had all become! Today he found he might be filing for bankruptcy, and tonight he was being blackmailed for money he didn’t have. His quest for power had brought him to this place, and suddenly, he found himself powerless. He controlled nothing. And by the time this was over, L.W. feared that control wasn’t the only thing he was going to lose.
He laid his head on the desk, and, surrounded by the expensive mahogany furnishings, imported art, and the best cognac money could buy, he cried.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Nina squeezed Dwayne’s hand as they proceeded up the concrete steps. He smiled, then pushed the large glass door open, and hand in hand they ventured down the long halls toward the elevator banks. When the elevator light blinked, signaling its arrival, they stuffed themselves into the chamber, along with nearly a dozen others who didn’t want to wait for the next elevator. Nina and Dwayne stood stoically, their eyes glued to the lighted numbers that indicated the elevator’s ascension.
People pushed past them, exiting and entering on each floor, until the light signaled the seventh floor. The hall was silent as they walked past the numbered doors to room 708. They paused at the entrance, exchanged a glance reflecting the challenge that lay on the other side, then with slight nods and deep breaths, Dwayne pushed the door aside so that Nina could step in first.
The private hospital room was stark white, though sprinkled with expensive floral arrangements. A low beeping drew Nina’s eyes to the green lines that danced in a syncopated choreography across the monitor connected to Sean Wiley’s chest. An intravenous tube was connected to his right arm. As the door opened wide, Sean turned his head and immediately smiled.
“My man,” he said weakly.
Dwayne placed his hand lightly on Nina’s back, nudging her forward.
“Nina, so good to see you.”
Dwayne reached over the metal rail and took Sean’s hand. “How are you, my friend?”
Sean pushed a button and the top half of the bed slowly rose. “I’m just taking it day by day, but today is definitely a good day.” He coughed and pulled the white sheet up to his chest.
Nina moved in front of Dwayne and kissed Sean’s cheek. “Good to see you, Sean,” she said.
Sean touched his cheek where she had kissed him. “With that kiss, I’ll be better in no time.” He pointed to the single chair under the window. “Pull that over here and sit for a while.”
Dwayne got the chair and Nina sat down.
“I’m glad you called and let us know you were here.” Dwayne covered his friend’s hand with his and at the same time, surreptitiously scanned his body. The short-sleeved robe left Sean’s arms bare, but there were no visible scars or lesions, and Dwayne was relieved that apparently Sean’s condition hadn’t significantly worsened. When he got the call, he hadn’t known what to expect.
“How are things?”
“I’m not in any pain, so that’s good. The doctors were worried that I had pneumonia, but now they’re not sure, so they want to keep me under observation for a day or two.”
Dwayne nodded.
Sean reached for his glasses, which lay atop the Bible on the table next to his bed. “I don’t want to talk about me. What’s going on with the two of you?” He peered over his glasses.
“Good news,” Dwayne started, taking Nina’s hand. “We’re getting married.”
“Show me that diamond, girl.” He reached for Nina’s hand.
They laughed as Sean held her hand high. The emerald-cut, three-carat diamond (purchased with money from Dwayne’s settlement with the Jubilee Network) shimmered a rainbow of colors against the white light in the room.
“Is this real?” he teased Dwayne and Nina as they all shared a good laugh. “I’m so happy for both of you.” He turned to Dwayne. “Man, you did good.”
“Don’t think I don’t know it,” Dwayne assured him as Nina blushed. Then putting his arm around her shoulders, Dwayne continued, “It took us a while to find each other, but it was worth it.”
“So when’s the big day?”
“That’s up to you,” Nina interjected. “We’re having a small wedding, but we really want you to be there.”
“Yeah,” Dwayne added. “Any word on when you’ll be getting out of this joint?”
Sean hesitated, then said, “Just tell me the date. I’ll be there.”
The sound of Nina’s cell phone interrupted their banter. “Excuse m
e, you two. It’s probably Omari’s baby-sitter. I’ll take it in the hall.”
Nina said hello as she stepped into the hospital corridor and walked to where she could find a private spot. When he and Sean were alone, Dwayne lowered the bed rail and perched himself against the edge of the bed.
“I knew the first time I saw you two together that Nina was perfect for you.”
“I should have listened. I couldn’t have imagined that I would ever be this happy again.”
“Well, I’m really glad for you.”
“Well, I can’t help but be a little worried about you.”
“Dwayne, you should know that it’s all in God’s hands. The doctors are hopeful. People are living out their lives with AIDS, and because of what you’ve taught me and the strength I now have in the Word, I plan to be one of those people.”
Dwayne fought the swell of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him and was relieved when he heard the knock on the door. Both he and Sean stared at the entryway.
“Hello.”
The last time Dwayne had seen her, she was flitting through the studio, assuring him that everything was all right. But she didn’t look the way he remembered. Even her dress was different. She wore a tailored black pantsuit. And she was alone, absent the entourage that accompanied her in public places.
“I hope it’s okay,” she said, looking back and forth between the two men, unsure about whether or not she should proceed. “I found out you were here and I wanted to see you.”
Dwayne wasn’t sure whom she was talking to, and he was relieved when Sean took over, pushing himself further up in the bed. “It’s fine, Bev. Come on in.”
She walked slowly toward them, stopping in front of Dwayne. She reached across the bed and kissed Sean lightly. “How are you?”
“Okay.”
She nodded, turning to Dwayne. “I hoped that you would be here,” she said softly. “How are you, Dwayne?”
“I’m fine,” he said, sounding stiffer than he wanted to. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized he hadn’t thought about Beverlyn in a long while, nor contemplated what it would be like to see her again. “How are things with you, Beverlyn?”