The Ex Files

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  While Hattie Mae Ingrum never had much to give, Aunt Beverly made every birthday, Christmas, and the small holidays in between more than memorable. And when Hattie Mae lay on her deathbed, struggling through her final hours of stage four lung cancer, Beverly Ford vowed that she would care for nineteen-year-old Asia always.

  That was six months after she’d met Bobby.

  “So, are you ready to talk to me?”

  Her aunt drew her away from that long-ago memory. “I told you, everything’s fine with me and Bobby.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “That’s why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Pastor Ford held up her hand. “Sorry. Talk to me.”

  Asia lowered her eyes, stayed quiet.

  “What did Bobby do—tell you he was going back to his wife?”

  Asia tried not to show her shock. “Of course not. Bobby loves me, Aunt Beverly, whether you believe it or not.” She paused. “In fact, the reason I’ve been so quiet is that I was trying to think of a way to tell you this.”

  Pastor Ford frowned.

  “There may be wedding bells in our future.”

  “Really?” she said, sitting across from her niece. “So he’s going to leave his wife?”

  “He’d have to if we’re getting married, right?”

  “Don’t get smart with me…Chiquita.”

  Asia’s eyes widened. She hated when her aunt called her by her given name. Her aunt Beverly was the only one who did—everyone else called her Asia, the name she’d been legally known as since she was nineteen.

  “I’m just looking out for you because I love you,” Pastor Ford continued.

  Asia sighed. “I know that.”

  “So, act like you know, Chiquita.” Pastor Ford paused, pensive for a moment. “I’m thinking…there’s something I want you to do for me.” When Asia looked at her, she continued, “Come to my office on Thursday at seven.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I asked you to.”

  It took a moment, but Asia nodded. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for her aunt. “Okay.” She shrugged as if it were no big deal.

  “Now, go grab Angel and get washed up. We have a whole lotta eatin’ to do.”

  Before Asia could scoot past, Pastor Ford stopped her and cupped her cheeks inside her hands. “I love you.”

  Asia nodded.

  “And I pray for you all the time.”

  She nodded again and then turned toward the family room. She needed her aunt’s prayers—hoped that they could make Bobby do right by her. If not, she knew there was no limit to what she was willing to do to keep the man she loved.

  Chapter Ten

  SHERIDAN

  Sheridan kissed her fingers, then blew a kiss to Brock before he stepped into the terminal. She’d miss him, but the memory of their fantastic weekend would carry her through the seven days he’d be gone.

  They’d never left his home after she arrived on Saturday, ordering in pizza for lunch, and Chinese for dinner. Their hours had been filled with playing competitive games of Scrabble, watching DVDs that they’d already seen, and then just resting quietly in the living room as Sheridan laid her head on Brock’s lap and skimmed through magazines while he read The Covenant.

  The sun had set many hours before when Brock had lit the fireplace, and they settled in front of the blaze sipping grape cider. She’d fallen asleep right there, on the floor, wrapped in his arms. They’d only awakened on Sunday when Tori called on her cell phone to say that the Nelsons would have her home by noon.

  Sunday had been as leisurely as Saturday. This time, the hours were spent at her home, with Tori, the three of them chomping on popcorn and watching PG-13 movies.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind this?” she’d whispered as she snuggled close to Brock on the couch, while Tori sat on the floor.

  “Are you kidding?” he’d said. “This is the life I want.”

  She’d kissed him good night around seven and then picked him up for the drive to the airport this morning.

  Now, as she swerved into the church’s parking lot, her thoughts turned from Brock to Pastor Ford. They’d arranged this meeting through voice-mail messages, but her pastor hadn’t given any indication of what she wanted. It had to be important for her to set this early-morning meeting on Monday, her day off.

  Inside, the church was before-nine quiet. Sheridan stepped through the sanctuary and, as she approached the pastor’s office, she heard the light tap of computer keys.

  “Hey, Etta-Marie.”

  Pastor Ford’s assistant looked up. “Pastor’s waiting for you. She’s got bagels and juice. Do you want some coffee?”

  “No, thanks,” she said, thinking about the caramel macchiato she’d get as soon as she left this meeting.

  “Good morning.” Pastor Ford hugged Sheridan when she stepped inside. The pastor looked into Sheridan’s eyes, lost her smile. “Are you all right?”

  Oh, no, Sheridan thought. Seventy-two hours had gone by since she’d sinned with Brock, but still, she looked away. “I’m fine.”

  “I didn’t see you in church yesterday.”

  Sheridan remembered how at that time, she was sprawled in front of the fireplace, resting in Brock’s arms. The memory made her turn away from her pastor again. “I woke up late.”

  Pastor Ford nodded. “How’s your mom?” the pastor asked.

  “Mom’s okay. She’s decided to spend a few more weeks in San Francisco. I miss her, though; kind of feel like I’ve lost both of my parents.”

  The pastor motioned for Sheridan to join her on the couch. She took Sheridan’s hand. “You’ve had a couple of tough years.”

  “I never thought anything could be worse than losing Quentin, but my dad…” She paused to swallow rising emotions. “I expected to be further along by now. But I don’t feel like I’ve made much progress.”

  “Give yourself time; it’s a process. In fact, I have an idea that I think will help. I want you to lead a group for me.”

  Sheridan shook her head. “Pastor, I’m not ready to go back to work yet. I can’t do a workshop…not without my dad.”

  “I’m not talking about what you were doing with your father,” Pastor Ford said, ‘’although I do want you to go back to those workshops when you’re ready. What I’m talking about is a prayer group.” Pastor Ford’s eyes shined brightly. “There are a couple of women in our congregation who could use a little extra fellowship. All of them are coping with relationships ending and you would be a great support leader.”

  Sheridan shook her head. “Pastor, I am definitely not the one for this.”

  The pastor frowned. “Why not?”

  Sheridan paused. How could she explain it all? First, it wasn’t like she had a handle on her own relationship. And most days, she was besieged by so much grief, she could barely breathe. And then there was the question of how she could lead anyone in prayer when she was struggling to stay out of Brock’s bed. “I’m just not the one,” was all she said.

  “You are, Sheridan.”

  Sheridan twisted under the heat of her pastor’s stare. She held her breath and waited for Pastor Ford to see the truth inside her, then stand up and declare that she was a perpetual sinner.

  “Sheridan,” the pastor began, and Sheridan waited for the gauntlet. “Often, it’s during our difficult times when God uses us most. He takes our transgressions and turns them into testimonies.”

  She knows everything I’ve been doing.

  The pastor continued, “We all fall short, but if you recognize, confess, repent, and pray, you can move to higher ground.” Pastor Ford smiled. “God wants to use you, right now, in this way.”

  If there was one thing Sheridan knew, it was that her pastor had a direct line to the Lord. She didn’t doubt her own relationship with God, but Pastor Ford had nurtured her divine connection to a level that most hoped for. If her pastor wanted her to do this, God must have had a word in it. She asked, “What is it exactly
that you want me to do?”

  Pastor Ford lifted a folder from her desk. “I call this the Ex Files,” she said with a slight chuckle. “I haven’t done anything like this before, but there are three women I’d like you to pray with. What I’m envisioning actually is a support group where the women can talk honestly and not worry about being judged.”

  “You said three women?”

  Pastor Ford opened the folder. “First, there’s Kendall Stewart. Do you know her?”

  Sheridan shook her head.

  “Kendall’s the owner of The Woman’s Place.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Well, she’s going through a bad divorce, although she’d never admit it. But what happened between her and her husband…” The pastor shook her head. “She reminds me a lot of you.” The pastor returned her eyes to the file. “What about Vanessa Martin?”

  “I know her; her husband just passed away.”

  “The funeral was Friday.” Pastor Ford shook her head slowly. “This has been especially tough because Reed committed suicide. Vanessa seems like she’s handling it, but I feel like she needs to have strong women who are also going through, surround her. I’m sure she has friends, and her mother lives nearby. But there’s something…” Pastor Ford paused and her eyes thinned as if she’d gone deep inside her thoughts.

  “What’s wrong, Pastor?”

  “I’m not sure. I just want to make sure Vanessa is getting the support she needs. This group will be great for her because she’ll be helping as much as she’ll be helped. That’s what she’s all about. Taking care of others. So, it’ll work both ways for her.”

  Sheridan pushed herself from the couch and stood with her pastor. “I’m glad she’s one of the women.”

  Pastor Ford nodded, then tossed the folder back onto her desk. “And the last one”—the pastor sank into her chair—“is my niece.”

  “Asia?” Sheridan had met the young woman at a few church functions, but she didn’t know much about her except that she seemed to run with celebrities. She most often saw Asia on the television entertainment shows, linked with one of the LA Lakers stars. But Sheridan couldn’t imagine why her pastor would suggest that Asia be part of this group. Besides the difference in age, she wasn’t even aware that Asia had been married.

  “She’s never been married,” Pastor Ford said as if she’d heard what Sheridan was thinking, ‘’although I can’t say that about the man she’s been seeing.” Pastor Ford sighed. “I’m not even sure it’s a good idea for her to be part of this.” Pastor Ford paused, still playing this thought through. “My hope is that you, Kendall, and Vanessa will be a good influence on my niece—even in the midst of your situations. I want her to see that she never has to settle for a married man.”

  So those stories are true, Sheridan thought. “Pastor, I hope you don’t mind me asking…is Asia saved?”

  “You know what I say, you never know anyone’s heart, but I believe she is. The challenge with her is what happens to so many. She prayed the Sinner’s Prayer, but then stopped right there. She hasn’t continued to grow. She comes to church only after I harass her and that usually lasts for a few weeks. All of her attention is on…this relationship.”

  “Doesn’t she have a daughter?”

  “She does, but I’m going to let her tell you about Angel and everything else. In fact, the rest should come from all the ladies. It’ll be part of the bonding.” She pushed herself from the chair. “Now, I asked them all to be here Thursday at seven. Is that good for you?”

  Sheridan smiled. The question was asked in an it’s-already-decided-so-you’d-better-cancel-any-plans-you-may-have tone. “I’ll be here, Pastor.”

  “Great.” She joined Sheridan on the other side of the desk. “Talking this through makes me feel even better about it. You’re going to do a great job.”

  Pastor Ford embraced her and Sheridan closed her eyes, muttered a quick prayer. She hoped to live up to her pastor’s expectations and hoped that in the process of praying with these women, she just might find a way to help herself.

  Sheridan wrapped her hands around the warmth of the Starbucks cup and inhaled. She stirred in two packets of brown sugar, swiveled to her right, and bumped into the man next to her.

  “Excuse me,” she said, grabbing her cup. “I’m…” She looked up. “Quentin!”

  “Hey, beautiful.” He grinned and kissed her cheek.

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “Same as you, obviously.” His eyes danced. “And this had always been one of our favorite places,” her ex-husband said. He pointed to a table. “Join me? I’ve got a few minutes before I have to be at the hospital.”

  Sheridan glanced at her watch. She didn’t have anywhere to go, but she didn’t feel like sipping coffee with her ex. Since their divorce, their children were their only common ground. “No, I don’t think…” She paused. Daddy has a new lover.

  “Okay,” she agreed and then followed him.

  “You look good, Sheridan.”

  “Thanks.”

  When she didn’t return his compliment, he said, “How’s Brock?”

  She responded with a small smile.

  He said, “Guess that means he’s still rocking your world.”

  She thought about her weekend and tried not to grin.

  He said, “Can’t say that makes me happy.”

  She eyed him as she sipped her coffee.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you to be happy,” he continued. “It’s just that it makes me sad that someone else is doing what I did for so many years.”

  She put her cup down. “You gave that all up…willingly.”

  He nodded. “Still…” His tone was loaded with memories.

  “So, how are you and—” She snapped her fingers as if she were trying to remember a name.

  His smile left. “We’re no longer together.” He paused, when she said nothing. “I’m surprised you asked me about that. You’ve never seemed…interested in my life before.”

  She shrugged, said nothing.

  “What made you ask me that now?”

  I think Daddy has a new lover. “Just making conversation.”

  He smirked. “Are you sure that’s all?”

  Sheridan’s eyebrows rose with Quentin’s question. Years ago when Quentin told her that he was leaving their marriage for Jett Jennings, she’d been driven to the edge of madness. She’d wallowed in hours of wonder, imagining her husband with his man, envisioning their details—the what, when, where—of Quentin and Jett together. Her mind stalked her, hunting, haunting, never letting go.

  Then she’d met Brock Goodman and he’d slain her stalker.

  “So are you sure there’s nothing more to your question?” Quentin asked. “Maybe you were thinking about me, about us?”

  “Actually, I was wondering if you’d met anyone new.”

  “Ah ha. You do care.”

  “Of course I care. But I was just making conversation.”

  “Conversation?” He leaned closer to her. “Is that what you call it?”

  She chuckled. “Look, Quentin, it’s true, I care about you. You’re my children’s father. But anything else…”

  “Then why are you here?” he whispered.

  She looked around. “Here? At Starbucks?”

  “Sitting with me at Starbucks.”

  She laughed. “What kind of game are you playing?”

  He leaned back, crossed his legs. “Nothing that we haven’t played before.”

  She frowned. “Anyway, still under making conversation, are you still attending that church you told me about?”

  He shook his head. Turned his eyes away. “I stopped going a while back.” He paused. “A new pastor came in and I didn’t fit in anymore.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “There are too many people who don’t think you can be gay and a Christian. I’m not trying to hear that. Figured I already had a relationship with God; I don’t need a building or a man to v
alidate that. So until I can find a place where the pastor’s not homophobic, I figure I’ll be a Pillow Pentecostal.”

  He laughed, but she didn’t join him. “There’s a lot more to going to church than just hearing what you want. Sometimes we need to be there to hear the things we don’t want to hear.”

  His laughter was gone. “Have you ever considered going into the seminary?”

  She paused, stared at him for a moment. “What’s happened to you, Quentin?”

  “Absolutely nothing. It’s just that I don’t think you have to be in church to have a relationship with God.”

  Sheridan squinted, trying to see beyond the words he spoke. Trying to see the man she’d married. The man who loved God and knew the truth of His word.

  Quentin looked the same, walked the same, sounded the same. But it was the differences—his words, his thoughts, his life—that worried her.

  It had taken a while, but once Sheridan settled into her new life, she’d been praying for Quentin, for his deliverance. But the way he sounded now, it seemed prayers weren’t enough. She had to do something more to help him.

  “You know, Quentin…”

  He glanced at his watch. “I’ve gotta make this move.” He took a final gulp of coffee. “It’s been wonderful chatting with you.” He stood, and when he leaned to kiss her, his lips lingered on her cheek.

  She stayed still. Didn’t look at him. Acted as if her heart didn’t beat a bit faster just because of the closeness of him.

  When he leaned away, he chuckled, like he knew his effect. He slapped on his sunglasses. “Tell Tori I’ll call her tonight.” He paused. “And I hope we get a chance to do this again…soon.”

  She shrugged as if she didn’t care about what he’d just said. But as he strolled away, her eyes followed him until he slipped inside his Maserati and sped from the parking lot.

  Chapter Eleven

  KENDALL

  The line between love and hate is thin indeed. That was Kendall’s thought as Anthony leaned over her desk. She inhaled his smell, enjoyed the motion of his fingers. Closed her eyes for a moment and listened to the music that was his voice. She loved him. Hated him.