Too Little, Too Late (30 page)

J
ASMINE TWISTED IN THE
bed. Looked at the side where Hosea was supposed to be. Seven nights had passed since her husband’s head had touched that pillow. And what was worse was she wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t come home. Was it because he’d found out that she’d been married? Was it because she’d told him about Brian’s kiss? Was it because he’d fallen for Natasia? Was it all of the above? None of the above?

She just didn’t know.

So how was she supposed to get him back?

I should have never told him about Brian.
But she’d been trying to do better, be better. Just didn’t look like the truth had worked.

Still, she couldn’t let it end here. There had to be something she could do.

Then it came to her.

Jasmine reached for the phone and wondered why she hadn’t thought of this before? Surely after she told Reverend Bush the whole story, he would be on the next plane to L.A. putting his family back together.

“Jasmine!” Reverend Bush exclaimed when he answered. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine.”

Then his tone that had been filled with cheer changed. Concerned now, he asked, “You don’t sound fine.”

It was his love that unlocked her tears. She cried, and along with her sobs, told her father-in-law the story.

He listened, without words, without judgment, to the lie she’d told Hosea. Then she told how she hadn’t seen her husband. At the end, she wiped her face and tossed another tissue into the trash. “I can’t believe Hosea didn’t tell you.”

“No,” Reverend Bush said slowly, as if he was still processing all that he’d heard. “We keep missing each other. I’ve been at a conference—I was going to call him back today.”

In the silence that followed, she could hear his questions. “I know I shouldn’t have kept my marriage from Hosea,” she said before he could ask her why. “But I was scared to tell him.”

“Hosea wouldn’t have cared about that.”

“I know now. But once I told the lie, I couldn’t get out of it. From the moment I said it, I wished I could take it back, but I didn’t know how.”

A pause. “I remember when Malik told me you’d been married before.”

Jasmine inhaled.

“At the church picnic,” Reverend Bush said, in a tone that told her he was reminiscing. “It was right after you and Hosea were married. I asked you about your first husband, do you remember that?”

She’d forgotten, but now she remembered. And now she wished she’d never made this call.

He continued, “But you said that Malik had gotten it wrong. That you’d never been married. And then Malik came back and told me that he’d made a mistake.”

That was exactly what happened—in Bear Mountain Park—just months before Jacqueline was born.

“You brought a whole bunch of people into your lies, Jasmine.” His voice was soft; his tone was not.

Oh, God. Could this get any worse?
“I never meant to get Malik mixed up in this, but I was scared. And I didn’t want to lie to you that day, but I’d already lied to Hosea and I didn’t know what else to do.” She paused. “I really am so sorry.”

He listened to her tears. Then, “I believe that you are.”

She exhaled with relief. Her father-in-law, always the merciful one. She hoped that the compassion in the father would find its way to the son.

“I believe that you’re sorry, but I’m not the one you need to speak to.”

“I’ve tried to talk to Hosea, but—”

“Before Hosea, you need to get this right with God.”

Unlike Mae Frances, she expected these words from Reverend Bush. And she would listen, long enough to get to the point where she would beg him to make Hosea come home.

“You’ve come a long way, Jasmine, but you still lean on your own understanding. You get into trouble, and then get into more trouble by trying to handle it yourself.”

“I didn’t try to handle anything.”

“You kept a lie alive. That’s handling it. You’re a child of the King, Jasmine, and you’ve got to start behaving that way. You can’t have one foot in the kingdom and the other foot out. There’s no such thing as a halfway Christian.”

His words sounded like a scolding, but didn’t feel that way. Sounded like he cared.

A halfway Christian.
“That’s not what I want to be,” she said and meant it. But how was she supposed to change? And how could she change fast enough to bring Hosea back?

“If you really want to do this right, Jasmine, then turn it over to God. All of it and all the way. Get rid of the lies. That’s who you used to be; that’s not who you are now. Give this to God and really mean it. Let Him bring you and Hosea back together, if that’s His will.”

“The way you say it sounds so easy. But it’s not. Just the waiting—”

“God’s timing.”

“It’s hard to sit and do nothing.”

“Don’t do nothing. Pray. Pray for strength to be still.”

Jasmine frowned. Pray to sit still? That didn’t make a lot of sense. She thought you prayed to be empowered. Prayed to get things done, move mountains. Praying to sit still didn’t seem to take much faith.

But if there was one thing she knew, it was that Reverend Bush had this God thing down. Her father-in-law knew the Lord, knew how to talk to the Lord, knew how to get things done through the Lord.

She said, “If I do that…if I really give it to God, do you think…Hosea and me…do you think Hosea will come back?”

“I don’t know.”

Those were not the words she wanted to hear. After the rebuke she’d just taken, she wanted words of comfort, reassurance that all would be well if she would just be still and let God handle it.

“But Jasmine, let me tell you what I do know. If God put you and Hosea together, with prayer, nothing is going to pull you apart. Just let Jesus take the wheel.” Reverend Bush paused, letting the advice that he’d given her two years ago hang between them.

She pondered his words. Letting God take over had worked before. Jasmine knew it was God who had brought Hosea back home. But would He do it again? Didn’t even God get tired of always having to fix her mess?

He said, “If you can leave it alone and leave it to God, I know you’ll be all right. And I’ll always be praying for you. Just make sure that you say a few good prayers for yourself.”

Prayer. That seemed to be everyone’s answer.

“And Jasmine, you know you can call me anytime, right?”

“I know.”

“But I’m not going to do any more than encourage you and get you to pray. I’m not going to talk to Hosea unless he brings it to me.” When she agreed, he added, “And one more thing.”

She waited for him to give her some last advice about how she needed to grow up and take this like a Christian.

He said, “Make sure you give Jacquie a big kiss from her grandfather.”

That almost made her cry again, but not from sadness. Reverend Bush had forgiven her long ago and so completely. He’d accepted Jacqueline as if Bush blood pumped through her. Could his son ever extend the same mercy? That would be her first prayer.

When she hung up, she imagined Hosea back home with her and Jacquie. Saw the three of them they way they’d been just weeks ago in New York. And that was when she closed her eyes and began to pray.

H
OSEA’S HEART BEGAN
double-pumping the moment he glanced at the screen on his cell phone. Before he flipped it open, he said a quick prayer.

“Hey, Pops.” His voice was steady, though his heart told a different story.

“How you holding up, son?”

“I’m hanging.”
And waiting.
“Got something for me?”

“I just got the papers. Turns out Jasmine’s married name is Larson. Her maiden name is Cox.”

Jasmine Cox. A woman he didn’t even know.

Reverend Bush continued, “She’s divorced. Has been for seven years.”

Instant relief. Now he could breathe. “That’s legit? You’re sure?”

“I had a copy of the divorce certificate faxed over.”

“Thanks for taking care of this for me, Pops.”

“Always. So…” Reverend Bush didn’t finish, but Hosea knew what he wanted to know.

“I only asked you to check it out to make sure I wasn’t married to a bigamist. This doesn’t change anything, Pops.”

“This changes everything. It means you and Jasmine are married. Period.”

“Yeah, I’m married to a perpetual liar. It doesn’t even make sense that she lied about this.”

The reverend sighed. “You’re right. It makes no sense. Sometimes I just want to shake Jasmine. She tries, but when things get rough, she gets drawn right back to her old ways. It’s what she knows.”

“So, if that’s what she knows, then that’s what she’ll be. How am I supposed to live with that?”

“You live with it through love, patience, understanding, grace, mercy, forgiveness—”

“Pops, stop there,” he said. He was agitated just thinking about forgiveness when there were other lies. He wondered if his father had bothered to add up the years. It was clear now—she’d definitely lied about her age too. And only God knew what else would pop up later. “How many times am I supposed to forgive her?”

“Good thing God doesn’t ask how many times He’s supposed to forgive you.”

“Well, I’m not God.”

“I thank Him for that.”

Hosea ignored his father, continued his rant. “It won’t work, Pops. A relationship has got to be built on trust. That’s the foundation. And Jasmine and I don’t have it.”

“You can build trust back; give her a chance.”

“And how will I know if she’s telling me the truth?” He shook his head as if his father could see him. “I can’t do it.”

“Well, if you’re talking about divorce, I can’t agree. There’s only one reason why God allows for that—unless you’re telling me…”

Hosea closed his eyes. Thought about Jasmine and Brian. Just kissing. Thought about him and Natasia. Almost doing so much more.

His voice was softer now. “I don’t think Jasmine’s been unfaithful.”

“Then the reasons you want to end your marriage are not good enough. God expects you to work through all that.”

A beat. “I don’t have enough in me.”

“That’s just pride talking. You’re hurt, you’re angry, and in your situation, most people would be. But you’re not like most people. You’re a walking Christian, not a talking one,” he said, as if his son needed to be reminded.

Hosea hated these kinds of lectures. Sounded exactly like the ones God had been giving him every night.

The reverend continued, “One of the reasons I believe God chose you for Jasmine is so that she could
see
faith. See faith in the way you treat her.”

“But what about the way she treats me?”

“Now come on, son. I’m sure there’ve been a few times when she had to show her faith with you. You can’t tell me that in the two years you’ve been married, you’ve done everything right.”

Visions of Natasia came back and all the things he’d done wrong. “When did you become such a fan of Jasmine…Cox.”

“Son,” the reverend began softly, “she’s Jasmine Bush. Instead of doing what the world does—looking for a reason to leave—why don’t you do what God wants, and find the reason to stay?”

He was so tired. Tired of hearing how he had to be the one to do right.

What about Natasia?

He shut his eyes and shut down his conscience. And said good-bye to his father. He didn’t feel like hearing anymore do-right lectures tonight.

Hosea pushed himself from the bed and walked to the window. The summer sun had already set, leaving him only a view of a nighttime-traffic-light Ventura Boulevard. The days were getting shorter, just like their time in Los Angeles. In a few weeks, they’d be returning to New York. What would his life look like then?

At least his father’s call had brought just a bit of good news. Jasmine was not a bigamist. Made finding out about her previous marriage not as big of a deal. At least it didn’t feel as big as it did when he first found out.

But then, he shook his head, stood up straight, stuck out his chest. He wasn’t going soft now. So what—Jasmine was divorced. This was about principles. This was about trust. And there would never be any trust between him and Jasmine again. He didn’t see how there could ever be.

T
HE PRODUCERS PUSHED THEIR
chairs back from the conference table.

“Okay, that’s a wrap,” Hosea said. “Thanks for making this a quick meeting.”

Triage laughed. “Yeah, we’ve had some marathons, huh?” He bumped knuckles with Hosea. “I’m out, on my way to the studio.”

Hosea followed his friend to the door, but before he could get out, Natasia asked, “Got a moment?”

He turned around. Since her altercation with Jasmine, he’d stayed as far away from Natasia as work allowed. He said, “Sure,” as if it wasn’t a big deal. “What’s going down?”

“Let’s talk in your office.”

That’s not what he wanted to do. Really didn’t want to be anywhere alone with her. But he agreed.

As they walked side by side, he had to work hard to ignore her scent, but the lavender and orchid fragrance was a part of her, became a part of him. He stared straight ahead, not looking at her until they were behind closed doors.

“So what do you want to talk about?” he asked in the professional tone, designed to keep distance between them.

She perched herself against the edge of his desk. Waited an extra moment, then said, “I’m gonna get straight to the point. I know what’s going on.”

He frowned.

“I know you’ve moved out of the Fairmont.” She passed him a small smile when his eyes glazed over with surprise. “I know you’re not with your wife.”

At first, he was shocked. And wondered about her source. But there was no reason to be shocked. Even though this was a secret he’d worked hard to keep hidden, she was a journalist. Snooping was in her blood. And he was sure that she’d taken prying into his life to a new level.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She pouted.

His eyebrows rose. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, really.” Her lips bent into a twisted smile. “I’m the reason you left Jasmine and it’s none of my business?”

It was her nerve, her guts, her aggression that made her so attractive to him years before. But not now. Not while he was still married. “Natasia, you’re not the reason, but whatever is going on is between me and Jasmine.” His eyes narrowed. “I would never leave my wife for another woman.”

She half-laughed. “Of course you wouldn’t. Especially not if I were your wife.” She paused. “So tell me, is it true? Are you and Jasmine separated?”

“Have you listened to anything I said?” he responded, his voice filled with his irritation.

As if he hadn’t said a word, she asked, “You’ve finally realized that you haven’t gotten over me.”

He shook his head, turned his attention to papers piled high on his desk.

After a moment, she rose, moved toward the door, then stopped. When she turned back, her lips had curved into that smile. But there was more—an unbridled determination was etched in every line of her face.

“There’s a reason why you never said good-bye all those years ago, Hosea. It’s not over, and I’m not about to let you walk away this time.”

He breathed with relief when she left him alone, but he could tell by her words that this respite would be short lived.

All Hosea wanted to do was get into the shower, read his Bible, and then make up for the hours of lost sleep from last night.

Turning off the lights in the studio, he was glad that he was alone. He was surprised that Natasia wasn’t lurking around, after what she’d told him today. But she’d left hours ago. Good thing—he didn’t have enough patience tonight.

His bones were aching as he dragged into the parking lot, his computer bag resting heavy on his shoulder. But as he neared his SUV, he slowed even more. Stared at the two back tires. Flat.

Frowning, he crouched down and inspected. Both tires had been slashed.
Great,
he thought, and wondered if he should report this vandalism to the police. But it was probably just neighborhood kids and calling the police would delay his getting home.

Sighing, he turned back toward the building, but then the sound of screeching tires made him stop. He frowned when a black Jaguar raced around the corner and lurched toward him. He jumped to get out of the car’s path.

The car came to a sudden stop only inches away.

“Sorry ’bout that.” Natasia looked at him over the rim of the dark glasses she wore, even though the sun had set an hour before. “I haven’t driven in a while.”

He looked at her. “I thought you were trying to kill me.”

She laughed. “Why would I want to do that?” And then her laughter died when she looked at his tires. Putting her car in park, she slipped out and stood next to him.

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m going to call a tow truck now.”

“Geez,” she said, peering closer. “This really looks bad.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “One tire, I would have been able to change. But two.” He shook his head. “And all I wanted to do tonight was get to the hotel and get some rest.”

“Well, then, isn’t it lucky that I rented this car?” She grinned. “I’ll take you to your hotel and you can handle this in the morning.”

He folded his arms, studied her. “Why do you have a rental? I thought you were using the car service.”

“I wanted to do some stuff over the next couple of days. I was coming back to the office to…well, anyway,” she waved her hand in the air, “I’m here, and I can take you to your hotel. Maybe we can stop and get a bite to eat first.”

He shook his head. Stepped away from her and moved toward the studio. “That’s okay,” he began, talking over his shoulder as he walked. “I’m gonna call the auto club.”

“Why would you want to do that?” she yelled to him.

He stopped, turned around. “Because.” And then he kept right on moving.

Behind him, he could hear her sigh. “Hosea, it doesn’t make sense…”

But the studio’s door closed on her words. Within minutes, he had the auto club on the line, trying to find a tow company near him. As he was placed on hold, his mind wandered back to his car, the gashed tires and Natasia’s sudden appearance.

“Nah.” He shook his head. She didn’t have a thing to do with this. What grown woman would knife tires just to get a man’s attention?

“Mr. Bush,” the operator came on the line, “it’ll be at least an hour.”

“Okay, thanks,” he said, even though he was far from grateful. He leaned back in his chair, thought again about the tires. Wondered again about Natasia. And prayed to God that she didn’t have anything to do with this. Because if she did, he was afraid of what she might do next.