Lady Jasmine (26 page)

T
HERE WAS NEVER ANY REST
for the tormented.

Jasmine’s eyes were once again wide open while Hosea rested next to her, deep in a peaceful sleep.

Tonight, she was tortured by thoughts of the report Mrs. Whittingham had given her this afternoon. The FedEx packet that was now hidden deep in the secret corner, in the back of her closet.

When Mrs. Whittingham had given her the package earlier, Jasmine had frowned. She recognized the packet—she’d held it in her hands the morning after Reverend Bush had been shot. The hospital administrator had given it to her, along with his other personal affects.

Jasmine remembered being curious when she saw the return address for L.A. Investigative Services. But then the hospital administrator had walked in and had taken her attention away. Right then, Jasmine had handed Mrs. Whittingham all the ammunition she needed to blackmail her.

But with Mrs. Whittingham’s blackmail behind her, those were not the thoughts she had as she surrendered to her sleeplessness and sat up in the bed. What made her restless now was the question she could not get out of her mind: What did her
father-in-law know? And why had he commissioned the investigation in the first place?

“Are you okay?” Hosea’s groggy voice eased its way into her thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m going to the bathroom.”

That was a good excuse because, by the time she stood, Hosea’s head was back on his pillow and the rhythm of his breathing let her know that he’d returned to his peace.

With heavy steps and an even heavier heart, Jasmine made her way into the living room. Like so many nights before, her plan was to pace until she tired. But tonight, a storm raged inside of her—thunder and lightning collided in her mind.

Jasmine couldn’t remember if the package had been opened when the hospital administrator handed it to her. She’d asked Mrs. Whittingham this afternoon, but when the woman told her that the packet had been opened, Jasmine wasn’t sure if she believed her.

Her hope was that Mrs. Whittingham was lying. But if she wasn’t, then her father-in-law knew everything…like Mrs. Whittingham did. But this information was much more lethal in Reverend Bush’s hands.

After long minutes, Jasmine slumped onto the sofa, but her mind was still fully charged. Once again, she reviewed the report she’d read. She didn’t need the pages in front of her; she’d memorized almost every word.

Whoever Leonard Hobbs was, the investigator had earned his money. The report had been complete—from the club she’d worked at to Buck’s name and current information to the clients who had become her regulars, including Mr. Smith. The only thing that was missing was exactly how much she’d been paid. And although the report didn’t quite say that she had slept with Mr. Smith or any of the other men for money, the inference was there. It was there in the fact that she’d moved to a luxury
apartment. It was in the fact that bank records showed how her balance had grown from zero to thousands.

Her father-in-law knew everything.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered if maybe she should tell Hosea the truth and end all the drama. That was her true desire, but what would she say?

I used to be a stripper.

And how would she answer the questions that followed.

Then I became a whore.

He would never look at her the same way. No, Hosea could never find out—not from Mrs. Whittingham. And definitely not from his father.

She would do whatever she had to do to keep this from her husband.

J
ASMINE YAWNED AS
H
OSEA PASSED
her the single paper.

“Here’s the financial report from Malik. He e-mailed it to me for the board meeting tonight.” Hosea paused before he added, “Maybe you need to see the doctor.”

“For what?” she frowned.

“You haven’t been able to sleep in weeks; you haven’t been feeling well. Maybe you’re—”

He stopped short of saying it, but that didn’t make Jasmine feel any better. What could she do to take her husband’s mind off of their having a baby? It broke her heart every time she had to tell him that wasn’t going to happen.

She shook her head, denying his hope without words. “There’s a lot on us right now, and this is how my body handles stress.”

The knock on the door made them both look up. Mrs. Whittingham stood, facing them, her lips pressed firmly together.

“Hosea,” she began, her eyes only on him. “I wanted to let you know that the board meeting has been postponed until Monday.”

Hosea’s eyes widened. “What’s going on?”

Standing stiffly, Mrs. Whittingham said, “There were some scheduling problems with Pastor Wyatt, I think…”

Hosea waited for more, but Mrs. Whittingham turned and left them alone.

Hosea was frowning when he faced Jasmine. “That was weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would Wyatt postpone the meeting? I would’ve thought he would want to walk into the sanctuary on Sunday as the new pastor.”

Jasmine shrugged. “Mrs. Whittingham said scheduling—”

Hosea shook his head. “Wyatt’s too eager to move ahead with this.” He paused. “What’s he up to?” He sat thoughtful for a moment and then reached for the phone.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Calling him.”

“Don’t.” Jasmine held up her hand. “Leave it alone,” she said slowly. Then, softly added, “Let this play out the way God wants this to play out.”

Like he always did, Hosea paused whenever his wife mentioned the Lord. In the next moment, he put the telephone down.

Jasmine glanced down at the budget report that Hosea had handed her, wanting to change the subject. Her eyes widened a little. “Babe, this looks good. Tithes and offerings are almost back to where they were with your dad.”

He nodded. “But you know, that’s not what’s most important to me.”

“I know…” Her voice trailed off, but her smile stayed. Mrs. Whittingham had come through; the postponement gave her the time she needed.

“Babe,” Jasmine began. “I need to run a few errands for an hour or so.”

“Go on. We’ll go by the hospital when you get back.”

She kissed his cheek and marched out of his office, her mind already on her tasks. It wasn’t exactly errands that she had to run—there were a few anonymous calls and deliveries that had to be made. And she needed to be out of the church to do that.

H
OSEA’S HANDS WERE PERCHED UNDER
his chin. His eyes, closed. Praying, Jasmine was sure.

She took soft steps toward him, but he sat still on the edge of their living room sofa, even though she was sure he knew she was there. Lowering herself in front of him, she kissed his forehead.

The moment he looked at her, she could see the bad news behind his eyes, and her heart ached.

Slowly, she asked, “Was that the hospital?” The phone had rung a few minutes before, but she had been in Jacqueline’s bedroom. It didn’t occur to her that all was not well—not until she walked in and saw her husband.

“Yes.”

Jasmine swallowed. “Is it your father?”

He nodded.

She inhaled deeply.

“She had to put him back on the vent this morning. She keeps trying to take Pops off, but…”

She exhaled; her thoughts had been much worse. “He just needs to get stronger.” She spoke in a tone that was meant to convince them both.

“Yeah,” he said, though it didn’t sound like he agreed. “And there’s something else.”

Jasmine waited for him to speak.

“Doctor Lewis asked about his DNR status.”

She frowned.

“Do not resuscitate,” he clarified. “She said she needs to know what we want to do if his heart stops beating.”

Her glower deepened. “Why would she ask you about that?”

“Because Pops
doesn’t
have a living will, and I have to make the decision on whether to have Pops shocked back to life or…”

Jasmine swallowed to get the nerve to ask, “What did you tell her?”

Looking straight into her eyes, he said, “I told her to do whatever she had to do to keep him alive.” She breathed with relief until he said, “But I just don’t know anymore.”

“Hosea, you
can’t
give up.”

“I’m not; it’s just that I never thought I’d be making these kinds of decisions for Pops.”

“You’ve made all the right ones. He came out of that infection fine. And I believe that the only reason he’s still asleep is because that’s the best way for his body to heal. He’s going to wake up, Hosea,” she said, as if God Himself had told her that.

It was the strength of her conviction that made his eyes brighten a bit. Leaning forward, he kissed the tip of her nose, right when his cell phone hummed and vibrated on the table. He frowned as he glanced at the screen, then flipped the phone open. “Hello.”

Jasmine tilted her head as her husband’s glower deepened.

“What allegations?” she heard him say.

Her heartbeat quickened, and she bunched her eyebrows together into a frown to fake her concern.

Hosea’s forehead wrinkled more with each passing second. He said, “No, I don’t have any comment.” He flipped his cell
closed. “Wow.”

“What?” she asked, hoping her voice was filled with enough sincerity.

“That was Shirley Gant from the
Post.
Jerome was detained overnight by the police.” His head was shaking, his frown still deep.

“Jerome Viceroy?” she asked, as if she didn’t know.

He nodded. “Apparently, they pulled him in last night for questioning. For soliciting sex with a minor over the Internet.”

Jasmine’s mouth opened into as wide an O as she could push her lips. “Jerome?” She held her hand to her chest in mock surprise. “That’s impossible. No way. I don’t believe it.”

Now Hosea frowned at her, and Jasmine hoped she hadn’t overdone it. When she said nothing more, he nodded. “Shirley’s confirmed it with sources at the station. She wanted my comment.”

“Well…” Jasmine began slowly, “you know, he’s been in trouble before.”

“But not this kind of trouble. This sounds serious.”

As if extortion and tax evasion and money laundering aren’t serious.

He flipped open the phone. “I’ve got to get in touch with Brother Hill, see what he knows.”

“Okay, I’m going to check on Jacquie before we run up to the hospital.”

He nodded, but his thoughts were already beyond her words. The way he paced, Jasmine knew her husband was concerned—about his father, and now about Jerome Viceroy.

She hated putting more on his shoulders, but this had to be done. As soon as her back was turned to him, her lips spread into a slow smile.

Two down!

A
S QUICKLY AS SHE COULD,
Jasmine tucked Jacqueline into her bed, then rushed back into the living room.

“Is Jacquie asleep?”

Jasmine shook her head. “Not yet, Mrs. Sloss is with her.” But their daughter was not what she wanted to talk about. “So…the letter.”

Hosea handed her the envelope that Mrs. Sloss had given them the moment they’d walked in a half hour ago.

“It came by messenger,” their nanny had told them.

Now, looking down at the paper, Jasmine read out loud:

Jerome’s signature was scrawled at the bottom.

Jasmine shook her head.
Other opportunities? Yeah, right,
she thought. She guessed that was a good way to look at it; surely prison would be a new experience.

But her eyes were filled with as much concern as she could
muster when she slipped the letter back inside and looked up at her husband.

“I still cannot believe this. So…do you think…what Shirley told you this morning”—Jasmine lowered her voice for effect—“could it be true?”

Hosea slumped back onto the couch, shook his head. “I don’t know. But his resignation and Shirley’s phone call have to be connected. He wouldn’t be resigning—not with the upcoming vote—if he didn’t have to.”

“You’re right.”

More shaking of his head. “I don’t understand why Jerome hasn’t called me or Brother Hill back…this is all so weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah. First the board meeting was canceled…”

“That’s no big thing,” Jasmine said, not wanting Hosea to put too much thought into this.

But he kept on. “And now, this thing with Jerome. If I didn’t know better…” He stopped. Looked up. Stared at her.

Jasmine stood, her stance soft, but her eyes daring him to accuse her of something. Then, as if he was shaking away bad thoughts about her, he shuddered before he said, “I don’t know…it’s just weird.”

“That’s how you might explain it, but I’ve learned enough from you to know that this might be God’s favor.”

“No one else’s misfortune is God’s blessing to me.”

“I’m just saying that maybe God is revealing things about people—information that’s important, that you need to know.”

“Maybe…”

“You’re so focused on your father that you don’t know what’s going on in the church.”

He looked at her through squinted eyes. “Do you know something?”

“No! I’m just trying to give an explanation for what’s going on. I truly believe that God’s making sure everything is okay
with City of Lights.”

After a moment, he sighed. “Yeah, maybe. But the board meeting is still on Monday, and even without Jerome, Wyatt may still be able to pull this off.”

“You never know what Monday will bring.” Before the words were all the way out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back. With the way Hosea was frowning, she knew she’d said too much. She opened her arms and beckoned him to come to her. Said, “Can we not talk about this anymore? It’s too much with everything we have going on.”

He said, “Definitely,” just as glad as she was to change the subject.

She embraced her husband, but Jasmine’s smile didn’t come easy. After all Jerome had taken them through, after the way he’d taken Pastor Wyatt’s side against Hosea, after he’d sent those nasty e-mails to Mariah, she should have been clicking her heels in the air.

But there was a part of her heart that held no pleasure at the thought of this man’s fall from grace. She’d done the right thing, for lots of reasons, but she didn’t have the fullness of joy that she’d expected.

But there was no room or time for sorrow. She still had more work to do. Mrs. Whittingham had told her that Pastor Wyatt was returning tomorrow—a day before the meeting. And so tomorrow, she’d make her final move.

The Wyatts were the ones she wanted to bring down the most.