Grown Folks Business (17 page)

As she wiped water from her face, she wanted to tell him he didn’t understand anything. He couldn’t if he’d actually appeared on her doorstep unarmed. “What do you want, Jett?”

“I want you to let Tori spend the weekend with Quentin and me.”

She laughed and looked at her watch; raindrops blurred the crystal. “I just told Quentin an hour ago, and he already has you here fighting his battle?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Then you really need to take your…behind off my property.” She turned and twisted the key in the lock.

“Sheridan, Quentin feels bad enough that he’s lost Chris. Don’t make him feel like he’s lost his daughter too.”

She whipped around, facing him again. “This is all Quentin’s doing. He left, and now he doesn’t want to deal with the consequences.”

“This is not about consequences. This is about you being bitter and angry.”

Her fingernails cut into the palm of her hand as she squeezed her hand into a fist. “Bitter and angry? You bet I am. Why shouldn’t I be? After seventeen years of marriage I find out that my husband is a liar—”

“He never lied to you.”

“—and a faggot.”

Her words shocked them both, and a slight grin came to Jett’s face. “I can’t believe you went there.”

She glared at him. “You need to leave before I call the police.”

“I would welcome that. What do you think the police would say about your keeping a father away from his children?”

“Whatever they think, just remember, Jett, this has nothing to do with you. These are my children. This is my family.”

“Chris and Tori are part of my family now too. No matter what you say.”

She stepped toward him, ready to go toe-to-toe, although she had to look up to meet his eyes. “You know what I say? Come back to me when you can give Quentin a baby. Come back when you can give him everything I gave him.”

“Obviously I’m giving him something.” The sting of his words brought tears to her eyes. She stomped into the house, slammed the door, and wiped the dripping water from her face. The chime of the doorbell shocked her.

She checked the locks and then walked into the living room. Still she shivered. The bell chimed again, and she shivered some more.

Sheridan picked up the kitchen phone and dialed. When Quentin answered, she yelled, “Your lover is in front of my house. You better come over here and get him before I call the police.”

She clicked off the phone, just before the bell chimed again. Sheridan rushed to the door and pulled it open with such force, it banged against the wall.

“Get the h—” She stopped before she said the word and stared into Tori’s face.

“Mom, I forgot my key.”

She grabbed Tori’s backpack. “Get in here.” Sheridan’s glance moved from her driveway to the surrounding houses. There was no sign of Jett. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and thanked God that Tori hadn’t arrived minutes before.

“I’m all wet,” Tori shrieked. “And I have to get ready for Daddy.” Before Sheridan could respond, Tori ran up the stairs.

It took minutes before Sheridan followed her. With each step, her dread increased. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but she knew, no matter what, at the end she’d have one unhappy child.

“C
hristopher, Tori. I’m ready.”

Sheridan stood at the bottom of the stairs. Christopher trotted down to meet her, but she still hadn’t heard Tori’s bedroom door.

It had been a long weekend. The daughter who Sheridan believed could teach a lesson on unconditional love proved there was no such thing. Tori moped her way through Friday night and Saturday, delivering the message that Sheridan didn’t deserve her love.

“Tori, I’m not going to call you again.”

Finally her door squeaked open, and Tori appeared, moving with all the speed of a sickly snail.

“It’s time for us to go.”

Tori said, “I want to walk to church.”

“No,” Sheridan said, and looked at Christopher. “We’re all going in the car today. No one’s going to be late.”

Christopher shrugged. Sheridan and Tori may have been miserable, but the weekend had been good for him. Friday night he’d gone to the movies, and yesterday he’d spent the afternoon playing basketball with his newfound friends. When she’d asked to meet them, Christopher said he’d invite them to church.

In the car Christopher sat silent with a smile. Tori sat silent with a scowl. When Sheridan pulled up to the front of the church, Tori said, “Can I get out here, Mother?”

Sheridan rolled to the curb, and Tori jumped out a millisecond after the car stopped.

“I’m going to get out here too, Mom,” Christopher said.

She parked the car and sat for a moment. For the first time since Quentin left, she was glad to be coming to church. She needed a word from God. Something that could help her with Tori…and Quentin. He hadn’t spoken to her since Friday. No word from him…or from Jett.

Inside the sanctuary Sheridan smiled and waved, and as she sat, she pondered the fact that without Quentin at her side, women weren’t greeting her the way they used to.

She glanced at her watch. There were still ten minutes before the service began. She flipped through her Bible, but then she stood and walked toward the bathroom. She pushed open the door, and as she approached the restroom area, she heard, “I wasn’t surprised at all. I always knew there was something up in the Hart household, okay?”

She stopped. And she was sure her heart stopped too.

“They were just too perfect.” That was the shriek of Francesca Mills.

“Well, you know what I say—if your man is getting what he needs at home, he won’t be looking outside, okay?”

Sheridan frowned. Those were the words of Jane Jones, who was as plain as her name, and had never been married.

Jane lowered her voice. “But Francesca, do you really think he’s with a man?”

“I’m sure of it. I saw Quentin and Jett on the golf course last week, and that wasn’t the first time. And then last night they were pretty cozy at Carousels. You never see two men alone there, unless…”

“They’re a couple,” Jane finished. “Okay?”

Quentin and Jett went to Carousels.

She wanted to tell her heart to really stop beating. To take her out. To take her away from this misery. She turned, moving as fast as she could before the two women discovered her listening.

Go back.

“No,” she whispered to herself. “I can’t.”

Go back,
her inside voice urged.

“What will I say?”

Go back.

It wasn’t her will that turned her around. She trembled with each step. When she walked inside, their chatting ceased.

Francesca and Jane froze, their heads bent close together, their mouths still open.

It was Francesca who had the most nerve. “Sheridan.” She paused, and her eyes wandered to Sheridan’s hands.

What? Do you think I’m going to beat the crap out of you?

“How are you?” Francesca asked.

Help me, Lord.
“I’m fine.” Sheridan smiled. “And how are both of you?”

The women nodded as Sheridan stood in front of the mirror and finger-combed her hair.

“You look great,” Francesca said, finally standing up straight. “Doesn’t she, Jane?”

Jane only nodded.

While Sheridan powdered her face, Francesca added, “And I love that suit. Is it Chanel?”

Sheridan nodded nonchalantly and freshened her lip gloss.

Francesca said, “Oh, that’s nice, isn’t it, Jane?”

Jane only nodded.

The two women stayed in place, staring as if their legs were bolted to the floor.

Sheridan looked at them in the mirror.
Idiots. You should have run.

Sheridan closed her purse. “Well.” She smiled and faced the ladies. “You two biddies have a blessed day.”

Her smile was genuine as she walked back into the sanctuary and took her seat a moment before Praise and Worship began.

“E
tta-Marie, is Pastor in?”

The pastor’s assistant looked up from her computer. “Yes, Sheridan, but she’s not taking any meetings today.”

Sheridan sighed. “I just wanted to tell her something quickly.” She’d spent several sleepless nights, hearing Quentin’s words in her mind. But during the day she heard nothing from him. Although he’d called every night to speak to Tori, he hadn’t asked to speak to her. She didn’t know what worried her most—his fury or his silence.

“Okay, let me see if she has a moment,” Etta-Marie said.

But the moment Etta-Marie stood, Pastor Ford opened her door. “Come on in, Sheridan.”

Sheridan shook her head. The doors to the pastor’s office were thick; she did counseling and never wanted to be overheard. And there were no cameras or intercoms. Yet Pastor Ford knew she was there.

“I wanted to get back to you about Quentin,” Sheridan said as she walked into the office. “He doesn’t want to come in for counseling.”

Pastor Ford motioned for her to take a seat. “I figured that. He didn’t return any of my calls.” She shook her head. “Do you know if he’s getting any spiritual guidance?”

“I don’t know.”

“It may be just as well. In today’s times, there are so many ministers out there preaching and supporting this gay lifestyle straight from the pulpit. Many of them are even practicing…” She stopped and waved her hand. “Never mind all of that. I just want to make sure that Quentin is in a Word-teaching church.”

Sheridan shrugged. “I haven’t talked to him about church.”

Pastor Ford nodded. “Okay, well all I can do for Quentin is pray. But Sheridan, I want to set up regular counseling with you.” She opened her calendar. “You need to be ministered to throughout this.” Pastor Ford leaned forward on her desk. “But first, tell me, how are you doing?”

Sheridan shrugged. “Fine, I guess. I realize that it is really over with Quentin, but now we have another problem.” She paused. “Quentin wants the kids to stay with him for a weekend.”

“At his place? With Jett?”

She folded her arms and nodded. “Christopher won’t go, but Tori wants to.” Sheridan jumped from the chair as if the leather were suddenly hot. “This is so hard because everyone has a different opinion about what I should do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my brother,” Sheridan began, “says homosexuality is a spirit and that I can’t expose my children to that. But then my mother says I have to remember Quentin is still their father.”

“Your mother is right.”

With her eyebrows raised, Sheridan turned to face the pastor. “I thought you’d side more with my brother.”

“Well, first,” Pastor Ford said, as she stood and joined Sheridan by the window, “don’t get it twisted.”

Sheridan almost chuckled. Pastor Ford knew the word of God, but she also knew the words of the streets. “Be very clear, Sheridan, because God makes it plain. Homosexuality, or rather the act of homosexuality, is a sin. Period. No matter what is going on in the world, no matter how many people call me judgmental or homo-phobic, I can’t be politically correct. I have to be Jesus correct. I cannot help anyone if I don’t tell the truth.”

The pastor’s words made Sheridan sadder. Deep inside she wanted to believe that the truth was a lie. That Quentin had been born that way. That the life Quentin had chosen was as acceptable to God as her life.

“Now, that said,” Pastor Ford continued, “it is a sin like any other sin.”

“That’s what I say, Pastor,” Sheridan said. “How can I judge Quentin when I have to ask God for forgiveness every day?”

“That’s the point, Sheridan.” The pastor motioned for her to sit down. “You ask God to forgive you for your sins. Right now, Quentin isn’t doing that. There is a difference between struggling with homosexuality and wanting to leave it, and living in that lifestyle and being unapologetic and accepting of it. There is a difference when you don’t call a sin a sin.”

“Should I yank his children away from him? Never allow him to see Christopher or Tori again?”

“Oh, no. I don’t believe that. What your mother said is true. He is their father. But you have to be concerned about how you handle their relationship with him.”

Sheridan slumped over and held her head in her hands. “So what am I supposed to do? Everyone has a different opinion.”

“Why are you turning to man and not God? You need to ask the One who knows.”

Beatrice had told her that.

“Normally,” Pastor Ford continued, “I would give you scriptures to study, but I’m going to do something different.

“I want you to spend some time with God. Read the Word, talk to Him. Let Him lead you.”

“But Pastor, I need to know what to do about Quentin and the children right now because I’m afraid of what he might do. I’m afraid we may end up in court.”

“That’s why you need to go to the Lord.”

“But, suppose I don’t hear anything?”

Pastor Ford squinted as if she were trying to see Sheridan better. “Don’t let circumstances shake your faith. You know what God can do.”

“My faith is strong. It’s just…” She stopped.

“You have doubts,” the pastor finished.

Sheridan nodded.

“Sheridan, never doubt in the dark what God has told you in the light. You know the truth.” She took Sheridan’s hands into hers. “Pray, Sheridan. For yourself. For your children. For guidance and wisdom. And pray for Quentin. God will speak to his heart too.”

Tears burned behind her lids as she thought about praying for Quentin. Almost two months had passed since he changed her world. And instead of life getting better, it had become more complicated. All because of Quentin. How was she supposed to pray for him?

Sheridan hugged her pastor. “I’ll try. I’ll try to pray for Quentin.” She fled from the office before Pastor Ford could challenge her to do more.

“Bye, Sheridan,” Etta-Marie said, as Sheridan dashed by.

Sheridan barely waved, her mind still fixed on thoughts of praying for Quentin when she was sure she was about to enter a battle with him.

“Excuse me.” A man’s voice stopped her. She stumbled as she bumped into him.

“I’m sorry,” Sheridan said without looking at his face. All she saw was his brown shirt and pants.

“Are you okay?” the man asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, already rushing past him. She never looked up. Never looked back. Never saw the way the man’s forehead creased or the way he stared until she was out the door.

Sheridan watched the neighborhood darken as light after light faded from each house, leaving the View Park homes blanketed in the midnight blackness.

She turned from the window and glanced at the Bible on her bed. More than seven hours had passed since she’d hurried into the house and rested in her bedroom with her Bible. Her children had ordered pizza as she’d spent hours reading her favorite scriptures and asking God to lead her to others. And then more hours passed as she meditated on what she’d read.

This afternoon she’d walked into her home in a knot of confusion. But now clarity filled her. It had come almost with the first scripture she’d read:
“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given to him.”
She had prayed for God to give her wisdom—to do right by Him, to do right by Tori and Christopher, to do right by Quentin.

Then she’d spent hours searching, reading, and rereading. More hours praying, meditating, and praying some more. And the answer had come to her. But she’d stayed in her place, in the peace she’d found with God’s answer. She was sure. She was going to do the right thing for her children and for Quentin.

Sheridan turned off the light and dropped to her knees. “Father, thank you” was all she said. Still she stayed, silently giving thanks that peace had taken the place of confusion, shame, and grief.

Sheridan slipped her bathrobe from her shoulders and climbed into the bed. As she shifted her pillows, she saw her ring.

She stared at it for a moment.

“He’s dead,” she whispered in the darkness. Physically, the man she’d known lived, but the man she’d loved had passed away. She twisted the ring, turning it every way, trying to see the shine that was always there. But in the dark it would not glitter.

She opened the nightstand drawer and placed the ring on top of the tissue box. There was no need to keep it under her pillow anymore. No need to keep it that close to her heart.

She lay down, closed her eyes, and slept. It wasn’t until morning that she realized the stalker who’d invaded her nighttime dreams for weeks had been arrested. The stalker had not come during this night.