Heaven Right Here (13 page)

Read Heaven Right Here Online

Authors: Lutishia Lovely

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Literary, #United States, #African American, #Christian, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Fiction, #Literary Fiction

BOOK: Heaven Right Here
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29
Watch Your Man
Hope rolled over and stretched lazily. She felt like a contented cat, and if not for all the purring she’d done into the wee hours, she’d be tempted to do so right now.
Is it really possible for this much happiness to be in one woman?
Hope laughed aloud as she bounded out of bed. Not only was she physically satiated but mentally satisfied as well. God had answered her prayers, and she no longer felt depressed. It felt good to truly feel like herself again.
She was tempted to join Cy in the shower, but she knew he had a meeting with Jack Kirtz, and she didn’t want to make him late. Instead she decided to prepare breakfast. She pulled on a pink silk kimono, placed her feet in rhinestone-covered slippers, and, after a quick wash-off, headed toward their newly remodeled, ultramodern kitchen. Passing Cy’s office, she decided to quickly shoot off an e-mail to Vivian, deciding it may be too early to call. But she wanted to change their plans for a noon lunch to one o’clock and hoped to catch her before other plans were made. She pushed the SEND button and rose from the chair when Cy’s BlackBerry rang. Hope rarely answered his phone and only gave it a casual glance as she walked from behind the desk. But the name caught her eye: Jack Kirtz. She figured the call was about their meeting.
“Cy Taylor Enterprises. Hope speaking.”
There was a short pause before Millicent responded. “Hi, Hope, it’s Millicent.”
Hope willed herself to remain calm and reminded herself she was no longer depressed, or jealous. It wasn’t out of the question that Millicent would place a call for her husband, just as Hope had answered Cy’s phone.
“Hi, Millicent.”
Another pause followed. “Well, this is rather awkward, isn’t it? I, uh, I’ve been thinking of talking to you and of what I’d say when the time finally came.”
Hope remained silent.
“This isn’t the time or place for the type of discussion I’d like to have,” Millicent continued slowly. “But I’ve apologized to Cy and want to do so with you. I am sorry for the hurt and confusion I brought to you and his life. Obviously we’ve both moved on, but I just wanted you to hear from my own mouth that I repented for what I did and now ask your forgiveness.”
Hope closed her eyes and forced the words from her heart and through her mouth. “I forgive you, Millicent.”
“Thank you, Hope. Because everything does work together for good—we’re both married and happy now. And did Cy mention that we’ve invited you two for dinner? Now that our husbands are going to be working together, I thought it would be a good idea. I mean, I’m not expecting us to become best buds or anything, but a cordial relationship might be nice.”
Cy walked into his office. His brows furrowed slightly when he noticed Hope on his phone.
“Millicent, Cy just walked in,” Hope said. “We’ll talk again soon.”
Hope handed Cy the phone and walked into the kitchen. Her mind was a flurry of thoughts as she started the coffeepot, put eggs on to boil, and took out bagels and a fruit salad. She then reached into the cupboard for the SuperFood capsules she and Cy had started taking daily. She placed his dosage next to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and then swallowed the two green pills with a long swallow of her own. Before she’d had a chance to organize her thoughts, Cy joined her in the kitchen.
“Oh, baby, I love you so much,” he said as he joined her at the counter. He placed a quick kiss on her forehead before downing his capsules with a long swig of juice. “God sure has a sense of humor,” he continued as Hope walked over to the coffeemaker and poured them both steaming cups. “If anyone had ever asked whether you and Millicent would ever speak to each other in this lifetime, I would have hedged my bets. And now her husband and I are partners. Imagine that!”
“Yes, imagine that,” Hope said, hoping the laughter in her voice reached her face.
Cy shook his head and smiled to himself as he sat at the breakfast bar and opened the
New York Times
. He quickly scanned the front page, financial, and sports sections before Hope set a plate in front of him.
They chatted amicably during the quickly devoured breakfast, and minutes later Cy was giving her forehead one last peck before he strolled out the door.
“What time will you be home for dinner?” Hope asked.
“I’ll call you,” Cy replied just before the elevator door closed.
Hope busied herself the rest of the morning. Instead of leaving the housecleaning for the maid, she washed and put away the breakfast dishes, made their bed, and readied the laundry for wash. Then she took a long shower, dressed in a casual, tan-colored velour warm-up with brown lace-up sandals, pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and, after phone calls to her mother and father, left to do some quick shopping before meeting Vivian for lunch.
As she navigated traffic from the mall to the restaurant, she finally gave the morning’s main event the attention it deserved. Yes, she thought, there had been a moment of discomfort when she’d heard Millicent’s voice on Cy’s phone, but it hadn’t lasted long. More importantly, the jealousy that usually came when Millicent’s name was mentioned, let alone when her voice was heard, had not been as strong as before. Perhaps the intense lovemaking session from the night before had released any lingering ill feelings she’d had where Millicent was concerned. She sure hoped so. Because if she was going to actually break bread with the woman she at one time wanted to break the neck of, she’d best have any and all negative feelings under control.
This was primarily what she relayed to Vivian after they’d settled in with soup and salad at the Souplantation in Beverly Hills.
“I’m proud of you,” Vivian said once Hope had finished talking. “Look what God has done. In just a little over a month, He’s helped you replace anger with forgiveness and worry with the peace that passes all understanding. And you know what else?”
“Hmmm?” Hope responded around a mouthful of vegetable soup.
“This is the first time in a long time in which pregnancy hasn’t been the main topic of conversation. God is going to bless you, Hope,” Vivian continued. “Just continue to believe.”
Hope’s phone rang shortly after she started her car and headed back to the marina. “Hey, Frieda! I heard you were at Darius’s party! We looked all over for you after you’d bumped into Stacy.”
“Yeah, well, it is a big house,” Frieda said.
“Yes,” Hope admitted. “It’s gorgeous. Where were you?”
“Here and there,” Frieda answered elusively. “You know Shabach had to make his presence known to all the partygoers—let everybody know he was in the house.”
“So you and Shabach . . . do you think it can get serious?”
“I’m just going with the flow, girl, taking one day at a time. That man sure can fuck though.”
“Why do you insist on talking like that?”
“It’s who I am and what Shabach and I did when he put the bat in the cat. What do you think we did, ‘made love’?”
Hope sighed and then stopped before she began her “safe sex/less promiscuity” message. Instead she told Frieda about the conversation with Millicent.
“You’d better watch that heifah,” Frieda warned.
“Now, don’t you start,” Hope countered. “Millicent is very much in love with her husband. Anybody who saw her on Carla’s show could see that. And Cy confirmed it—said you could feel the love they had for each other when he was in their home.”
“Cy was at her house?” Frieda asked with incredulity.
“Cy was at her and Jack’s house,” Hope corrected. “Having a business lunch.”
“Is Millicent part of his business?”
“Look, I’m not even going to go there with you. I’ve just released the demon of jealousy, and I’m not going to go back and get it.”
“Whatever, Hope. Just watch your man, that’s all I’m saying.”
“And so you’ve said, cousin.”
The conversation changed to that of family, Frieda’s thoughts on changing jobs, Hope’s update on how her dad was doing, and hearing Frieda’s mother’s latest dating dilemma. By the time Hope pulled into the condominium complex parking lot and headed for the elevator, she tried to convince herself her heart still felt light. And true, there were still no jealous feelings regarding her former nemesis, Millicent. But the depressing pangs of longing were creeping in, courtesy of Vivian’s lighthearted comment shared earlier. As soon as she entered the house, she walked straight to the computer, pressed a search engine, and began looking up info on fertility drugs.
30
Lord, Help Us
Cy sighed as yet another call lit up on his dashboard. It had been a crazy morning, with one unexpected event after another. He hoped this wasn’t yet another one.
He flicked the speaker button. “Yeah, Charlie. I’m just now leaving LA—should be there by one o’clock.”
“That’s fine, Cy. But hopefully you won’t mind moving our meeting until four. Our partner’s connection was delayed in London. He probably won’t touch down at LAX until noon. Security, customs—it’ll be four at least before he gets here.”
Damn.
“Okay,” Cy said after a long pause. As crazy as his day had been, he could hardly fault someone flying in from Switzerland for a delay that was beyond their power to control. “I’ll see you then.”
Cy voice-activated a call to Jack.
Millicent answered. “Hey, Cy!”
“Hey, Millicent. Jack around?”
“You can catch him on his cell. He took Jackson on a tour of his inheritance.”
Cy smiled. “Okay, fine, I’ll call him.”
“Cy?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t mean to pry into Jack’s affairs, but weren’t you guys supposed to meet this morning?”
“Yes, but this has been a crazy Monday. We pushed back our meeting, and it looks like I need to push it again.”
“Oh, shoot.”
“Why, do you think that’s a problem?”
“It’s just that we had dinner reservations at Panuche’s for the three of us.”
“Panuche’s? Even with my connections, Hope and I couldn’t get reservations until three months out.”
Panuche’s was the latest southern California restaurant sensation: an upscale bistro with arguably the best Italian chef and unarguably the highest prices. The service was beyond stellar, with personal waiters for each of the twenty tables in the cozy establishment.
“We’ve waited six months for this one.” Millicent paused for a moment. “Hey! We could always make it a reservation for four—oh, but Hope probably has dinner plans.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll understand. I wouldn’t think of having you cancel your reservations, and quite frankly, I’ve heard too much about this chef to pass up an opportunity to get inside. I’ll call Hope and let her know I’ll be home after dinner if you’ll do me a favor and call Jack. What time are the reservations?”
Millicent smiled as she hung up to call Jack. She’d always treasured Cy’s friendship, and was glad to be experiencing it once again.
 
 
“You’re what?” Hope turned away from the sauce she was making and placed her hand on a peeved-off hip as she spoke into the phone to Cy.
“It couldn’t be helped, baby. My schedule has been screwy all day. Jack and Millicent already had reservations, so—”
“Millicent? Why is she attending a meeting between you and Jack?”
“They’ve had the reservation for months. I didn’t want them to cancel on my account.”
Hope could barely hear Cy’s answer for Frieda’s words ringing in her ear.
Watch your man.
And she could have sworn what she did hear came precariously close to an insult.
“You’ve been gone all day, Cy. Why couldn’t you guys meet earlier, in Jack’s office?”
Without Millicent!
“Hope, unless you’ve made dinner plans for us, I don’t see why you’re upset.”
Frieda’s words continued as a litany in Hope’s mind:
Watch your man, girl. Watch that heifah. . . .
“Who says I’m upset? Why should I get upset because you leave for San Diego first thing this morning, and then call me tonight telling me you’re having dinner with Millicent? I thought your partnership was with Jack. If this is going to be a husband-wife venture, then I need to match my calendar with yours and become a part of the project!”
Cy took a moment before he spoke again. Until this year, he and Hope had rarely debated and never argued. He didn’t like this side of Hope and begrudgingly admitted their marriage might be entering an “or for worse” period. He’d told Hope that Millicent would be at the dinner because he never wanted any secrets between them. So he decided on full disclosure.
“Look, baby,” he said finally. “Jack and Millicent have reservations at Panuche’s. You know how long one has to wait for those tables—it was either cancel the meeting or join them. It’s obvious we need to talk about this. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Okay, baby? Baby?”
Cy looked at the dashboard. His eyes narrowed when he realized why Hope didn’t answer. Because she had hung up.
 
 
“Mama, I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” Hope paced the floor of her living room. The crisp December day gave a perfect backdrop to the plush shade of navy Hope had recently added to the living room’s color scheme. The bright sunlight danced off their handscraped bamboo flooring, an art that dated back to the artisans of the Ming dynasty, but its richness was lost on Hope’s dark mood.
“Why can’t I get past it?”
“Because you aren’t being honest with yourself, or with your husband. You keep saying you’ve forgiven Millicent, when you haven’t. And that you’re okay with his business dealings with her husband, when you’re not. But I don’t think this is just about Millicent.” Pat took a deep breath and continued. “When I had my miscarriage, I went into a deep depression. I tried hard to hide it from your daddy, and thank goodness you were too young to remember, but times were touch-and-go with me for a while, to the point where Earl and my mama seriously considered, you know, putting me away for a while.”
“Putting you away? As if you were crazy?”
“As if I were mentally unstable, which I was. Even now, but especially back in those days, Black folk just didn’t admit it if they were having mental problems. We couldn’t afford to be depressed or to have a bad day. Bad days were just part of living, and no matter what happened, we were expected to get over it. I mean, heck, we’d been through slavery, Jim Crow, the Civil Rights Movement. We weren’t supposed to get too bent out of shape over something we couldn’t control. And even though I knew in my head that the miscarriage was not my fault, I couldn’t get my heart to believe it.”
“So what did you do?”
“You remember our old neighbor, Miss Susie? The one who used to bake those pies for us all the time?”
Hope smiled through her tears. “Who could ever forget Miss Sue?”
“Well, unbeknownst to me, she’d been watching me, took special pains to pay attention after I’d lost the baby. One day she saw me wandering around in the backyard; she said I was just kinda going in circles. She came over, and we had a long talk. She told me about a doctor she’d gone to one time after her mother died and she thought she’d lost her mind. He helped her. I went to him. He helped me too.”
“You think I’m going crazy, Mama?”
“I think you’ve put yourself under a lot of pressure trying to get pregnant, and you’ve been trying to deal with it by yourself.”
“I’ve been getting counseling. Sistah Viv is very aware of what’s going on.”
“Yes, but, Hope, it might be time for you to go to someone besides your pastor. Now, I’m not saying God can’t fix it, because He can fix anything. I’m just saying He might want you to use a method other than the one you’re using. Will you think about it?”
Hope promised her mother she would, but she knew she wouldn’t. As hard as she tried, all she could think about was Millicent spending the evening with Cy. She didn’t include Millicent’s husband in the picture she painted—which, had she thought about it, may have been why her imaginings made her hurt so much.
 
 
Cy walked into the penthouse several hours later. The lights were out, yet when he went into the kitchen he found a pot of cold sauce and another pot of rice on the stovetop. He looked in the oven. Two fillets of salmon sat in an ovenproof pan. He frowned, put the food in storage containers, and put the containers in the refrigerator. After placing the cookware in the dishwasher, he walked into the bedroom.
Hope was lying on the comforter, fully clothed and sound asleep. Cy sat down gingerly, his look a mixture of love and concern. He placed a soft finger to Hope’s cheek, noting the dried tearstains that had streaked her makeup.
“Hope?” he called out softly. He called again, but to no avail. Hope was sound asleep. Cy removed his shoes, suit, and shirt and crawled on the bed in his underwear. He didn’t want to bother his sleeping princess and therefore simply cuddled Hope tightly in his arms.
He stared into the distance as he leisurely stroked Hope’s hair.
“God, please help Hope. She’s the love of my life, and she’s hurting. If it is Your will, please help us start a family. A child will make all the difference. Help us, Jesus.”

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