A Sin and a Shame (22 page)

J
asmine had doubted
Hosea’s words.

When he told her they could have the wedding she wanted in four weeks, she knew that wasn’t possible. But then, she watched her fiancé work it.

First, two days after he’d called about Sebastian, the famed designer was sitting in Jasmine’s apartment, making sketches as she described her dream dress.

Next, Hosea hired Ciara LaReese, a celebrity wedding planner. Before the second week was out, their invitations had been designed and two hundred invites were delivered, the menu had been selected, the musicians had been chosen, and a photographer had been hired.

By the third week, the details of the day were completed: the flowers were ordered, hair and makeup artists were booked, and their photo shoot was scheduled for their picture that would appear in
The New York Times.

By the fourth week, what had seemed an impossible task was unfolding to be a day beyond imagination. But even with Ciara, the whirlwind planning left Jasmine feeling like an about-to-pop rubber band. It was difficult to eat, hard to sleep, impossible to focus.

“That’s normal,” Serena had told her when Jasmine complained about not being able to get more than two hours of sleep. “You’re suffering from pre-wedding jitters. And it hasn’t helped that you’ve piled into a few weeks what most people do in a year.”

“Just take it easy,” Malik had said when he noticed the dark circles under Jasmine’s eyes at church. “You look exhausted and I know you don’t want to look like that on Saturday. Stacy has the club under control; I’ve got the office. Take this week off.”

Jasmine had no intention of following Malik’s suggestion, but now, as she tossed through the night, she decided that rest was what she needed.

Sunday’s night was just beginning to bow to the light of Monday when her eyes finally closed. But no more than ten minutes later, a knock on her door pulled her back to consciousness. She tried to smother her pillow over her ears when the knock came again. Finally she crawled from her bed.

Mae Frances’s smile greeted her. “Jasmine Larson, what are you doing in your bathrobe? I thought you’d be ready for work.”

“I’m staying home today,” she said, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have come by so early. But since I’m here.” She stepped into the apartment. “I got that invitation.” She tilted her head as if that would give her a better view of Jasmine. “You’re really going to marry the preacher man?”

Even though her bones ached, that couldn’t stop her smile. “Yes. On Saturday, I’ll be a married woman.”

Mae Frances shook her head. “I think that other one was better for you.”

There he was again—Brian, invading her happiness. “I’m marrying the man I’m supposed to,” Jasmine said, crossing her arms.

Mae Frances shrugged. “Doesn’t make me no never mind. I don’t have to sleep with either one of them.”

The cheer that had come in with Mae Frances was completely gone now. “Is there a reason you stopped by?” Jasmine asked, trying not to sound harsh.

“Yes, I came by to tell you that I won’t be able to make the wedding.”

Jasmine’s mouth opened wide. Mae Frances was the only friend she had. And for a reason she couldn’t explain, Jasmine wanted to share her wedding day with her neighbor.

“Now, don’t get in a hissy,” Mae Frances said as she looked at Jasmine’s face. “You know how I feel about churches. But…” She paused. “You also know how I feel about you, so I want to take you out to dinner to celebrate.”

Jasmine kept her laugh inside. Mae Frances wanted to take her out to dinner?
Please,
Jasmine thought.
I’m the one who’ll be paying.

But then, Jasmine wondered, when was the last time her neighbor had been able to enjoy a meal, or anything outside of her home?

“That’s a good idea, Mae Frances,” Jasmine said, glad she’d have a way to treat her neighbor. “Where do you want to go?”

“Well, if you can get away for dinner this week, how about we try Jean Georges. I haven’t been there in a while.”

Jasmine raised her eyebrows. She doubted if her neighbor had ever been to the famed restaurant. She wanted to be annoyed, even angry that Mae Frances would suggest Jean Georges when not a penny would come from her pocket. Still, Jasmine said, “Sounds good. But would you mind if we did lunch instead?” she asked, hoping the lunch menu would be a bit more affordable.

Mae Frances agreed. “Why don’t we do lunch today?”

Jasmine had hoped to spend much of the day in bed, but her neighbor’s eager eyes made her say, “Sure. Will Gerald drive us?”

Mae Frances raised her shoulders a bit higher. “Of course. Why would I have a driver and not have him take me to lunch?”

Jasmine shrugged. She could ask that and lots of other questions. Like, why did Mae Frances have a driver at all? Or, why didn’t she sell the diamonds she wore? Her driver and diamonds could buy her food for quite a bit of time.

But she didn’t ask Mae Frances anything. Just waved good-bye after they agreed to meet right at noon.

It was the warmest
day of the year, yet Mae Frances wore the fur-trimmed cashmere cape that she favored since she’d shed her mink back in March. Just looking at her wrapped in the wool, over a cream polyester shift, made Jasmine sweat, even though her sleeveless silk tank dress worked well for the almost ninety-degree May day.

Jasmine didn’t miss the way the maître d’ eyed the two when they strutted into the restaurant. But she kept her head as high as Mae Frances held hers as they were escorted to a table far from the entrance.

“Please bring me a glass of Chardonnay,” Mae Frances said the moment they were seated. “Do you want anything to drink?” she asked Jasmine as if she were really going to be paying the bill.

“I’ll have hot tea, please,” Jasmine said, hoping that would calm her stomach and wake her up at the same time.

Minutes later, the waiter stood, ready to take their orders.

“I’ll have the filet mignon,” Mae Frances said. “Medium-rare, please.”

As Jasmine scanned the menu, her stomach somersaulted. She took a sip of water, and ordered the house salad.

“Is that all you’re having?” Mae Frances frowned.

She nodded. “I’m not very hungry.”

As soon as the waiter walked away, Mae Frances said, “Since you’re always in my business, it’s time I got into yours. Why are you marrying that preacher man? Are you pregnant?”

Jasmine opened her mouth wide. Reverend Bush had thought the same thing. Did the world think Hosea Bush would only marry her if she were pregnant? “No, I’m not.”

Mae Frances narrowed her eyes. Studied her. Frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hmph, you’ve got that glow.”

“This is the glow of love.”

Mae Frances sucked her teeth. “I ain’t never heard of that.” She peered at Jasmine. “If it’s not a baby, then why are you getting married? It just seems so quick, too soon.”

“Hosea and I have been together for five months. It may seem soon to you, but it seems right to us.” She wanted to add all the words that Hosea had said to his father—how God brought them together. But that couldn’t be part of this conversation. “And,” Jasmine continued, “I really love him.” Even though she repeated this to someone every day, those words were still a wonder to her.

When the waiter settled their meals in front of them, Mae Frances said, “I hope this marriage thing will work out for you.”

“It will.”

“You probably believe in all of that love is patient, love is kind stuff, don’t you?”

Jasmine chuckled. “Oh, so now you’re quoting Shakespeare?”

Mae Frances hesitated for a moment and then laughed. “Jasmine Larson, that ain’t Shakespeare. That’s from the Bible.” She shook her head.

“I knew it was from the Bible,” Jasmine lied. “I was just teasing you because you said you didn’t want to have anything to do with God.”

“I don’t. But I’ve heard a thing or two about that book that He and that carpenter son of His were supposed to have written. But anyway, you
really
think you love that preacher man?”

“I don’t think it, I know it.”

Mae Frances peered at her for a moment. “It’s just that I know men. I don’t trust them.”

“I trust Hosea.”

“I hope he doesn’t hurt you.”

“I’m sure he won’t.” Jasmine didn’t add that he wouldn’t hurt her, but she couldn’t say the same. She shook away the image of Brian before it came to her mind.

“You’re young, Jasmine Larson. A bit too naïve, if you ask me.”

Jasmine laughed so loud, she had to put her hand over her mouth. “If there is one thing I’m not, it’s young. I’m…thirty-five. And I’m certainly not naïve.” She paused, seriousness returning. “Mae Frances, the woman you know now is not the person I’ve always been.” In that instant, moments traveled through her memory that made her sad. Situations that she wanted to live over and live right this time. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

Mae Frances waved her hand. “We all have a little trouble in our past.”

“My past is not that long ago.” She lowered her voice.

“If you’re talking about that other man, that’s not something to be ashamed of. You were just making up your mind between the two.”

Jasmine didn’t feel like explaining it all. “Whatever reasons I had, I want to keep my past far away from me. I want to live the rest of my life better and it’s all because of Hosea, the preacher man.”

Mae Frances chuckled. “I hope you can be happy, but it’s hard for me to believe in marriage. Hard for me to believe in men.”

Jasmine wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to believe in any of that—she only needed to believe in God. But she wanted to have a peaceful lunch.

Jasmine asked, “Your parents weren’t happy?”

It was Mae Frances’s turn to lean back and laugh. “My daddy was gone before I could walk. My mom was determined to give me a good life. After college, she made sure I met the right people. And that’s when I met and married Elijah Van Dorn.”

“I’m sorry life hasn’t gone the way you’ve wanted.”

“Well, it’s too late for me, but not for you. I love you, Jasmine Larson,” Mae Frances said. “Some people may say that I love you like a daughter. So, that’s why I wish you every bit of luck with this preacher man.”

Jasmine squeezed her neighbor’s hand.

For moments, they ate in silence until Mae Frances cut into her steak. “I don’t believe this,” she growled. Mae Frances waved her hand in the air, signaling for the waiter. “My steak is red,” she said with indignation. “I said I wanted it medium.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I thought you said medium-rare.”

“I know what I said, young man. I want a steak—medium, please.”

The waiter nodded, reached for Mae Frances’s plate, but she slapped his hand away.

Both the waiter’s and Jasmine’s eyes widened.

“What are you doing?” Mae Frances barked.

The waiter answered, “I thought you said—”

“What kind of restaurant is this? You’re actually going to take this steak and nuke it? I want another steak—and I want it medium! Please.”

The waiter looked at Jasmine, but she lowered her eyes.

When the waiter scooted away, Mae Frances asked, “So, do you have everything ready for your big day?” as if she hadn’t just scolded the server.

It took a moment for Jasmine to respond. “Yes, Hosea planned just about everything.”

Mae Frances frowned. “That’s not a good thing. You never know how your wedding’s going to be now. Men are such—”

Jasmine interrupted. “Mae Frances, would you stop it with your commentary on men and just be happy for me.”

“I said I was happy. What do you want me to do? A few cartwheels?”

“I want you to stop talking about Hosea like that.”

“I’m not talking about your preacher man. I’m talking about—” She stopped when Jasmine glared at her. “All right, Jasmine Larson. I just hope that one day, I won’t have to say, ‘I told you so.’”

“You won’t.”

The waiter rushed back to their table with another steak for Mae France, cooked medium.

Her fingers flittered in the air. “I’ve lost my appetite,” she said. “Wrap that up for me.”

The young man nodded.

“Here, take this piece too. Wrap it with that one.”

The man frowned.

Mae Frances eyed Jasmine’s barely touched salad. “Are you going to finish that?”

Jasmine shook her head.

“Wrap this up too,” Mae Frances ordered. “And I only want to see one steak on that bill.”

As the waiter marched away, Jasmine stifled her giggle. Now she understood how this woman had survived.

As if she hadn’t just scammed the waiter, Mae Frances said, “I hope you enjoyed our little lunch, Jasmine Larson. I know I did.”