A Sin and a Shame (31 page)

T
heir first Christmas was
meant to be together…alone.

But that is not the way Reverend Bush wanted it. When he called and asked Hosea and Jasmine to join him at his house for dinner, there was no way Jasmine was going to deny him. Their truce had blanketed their family with peace, and she planned to keep her life wrapped in that tranquility.

As Hosea navigated their car through Manhattan, Jasmine leaned back and enjoyed the sights—the passing cars, some wearing holiday wreaths, speeding to their dinner destinations. The pedestrians braving the December winds, their arms heavy with gifts. Snow piled five inches high, the night having fulfilled the promise of a White Christmas.

Jasmine glanced at Hosea. As if he felt her, he turned and took her hand. And like she always did at his touch, every part of her warmed. She never expected to be this happy. “Amen and amen. So be it,” she whispered as she did whenever that thought came to her.

“You say something, darlin’?”

“I said you’re the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received.”

He grinned.

He hadn’t come wrapped in the package she expected, but he was sure ’nuff a gift from God.

Forty minutes after they’d left the city, Hosea eased his SUV in front of a red brick split-level home.

“Now before we get out,” Hosea began, “you have to promise me that no matter what you see or hear, you’ll still be my wife when we leave tonight.”

She laughed. “What’s behind those doors?”

“I don’t know who Pops is having over. But there are people alive who knew me before I wore braces. And you never know what an old person might say.”

She leaned across the console and kissed him. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll love you always.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.”

He held her hand as she waddled across the freshly shoveled driveway. Opening the front door, he yelled, “Anybody home?”

Chatter, laughter, the clanging of glasses fused with Nat “King” Cole crooning about chestnuts—the home was merry with Christmas.

Standing at the edge of the living room, Jasmine forced herself to stay in place when all she wanted to do was cut and run. She hadn’t asked about Reverend Bush’s guest list, but she should have known his home would be filled with those he considered family—his church family. Among the dozen or so familiar faces from City of Lights, there was Brother Hill and Mrs. Whittingham moving around the ten-foot Christmas tree as if they were at home.

“Son!” Reverend Bush exclaimed when he finally noticed the two. He hugged Hosea and then kissed Jasmine.

“Welcome to my home, Jasmine. I can’t believe this is your first time here.”

“Well, Pops, you have to admit, this is kinda far and we see you every week in the city.”

“Still,” Reverend Bush said to Jasmine, “I’m glad you’re here.” He helped her with her coat and then grinned. “My, my,” he said as Jasmine straightened her sweater over her swollen stomach.

“I know,” Jasmine breathed. It seemed as if her waist had expanded ten inches since last Sunday. Although she no longer searched for his suspicion inside his words, Jasmine still had to be careful. These last weeks were going to be the hardest. The lie was that she was almost twelve weeks away from giving birth. But the truth was she was six weeks away.

Reverend Bush said, “Looks like you’re almost ready.”

“That’s what I said, Pops. But Dr. Edmonds said that the baby is just healthy.”

Reverend Bush said, “Maybe you’re having twins.”

“Wouldn’t that be great?” Hosea beamed.

“No!” Jasmine said to both laughing men. “It wouldn’t be great.”

“Come on in,” Reverend Bush said, leading them into the sunken living room. “I’ll get you some eggnog.”

Brother Hill was the first to greet them. “Hosea.” He hugged him and then said, “Jasmine.”

With a nod, she said hello. Did the same with Mrs. Whittingham. She tried to keep her festive smile as others came over to spread their Christmas cheer. Everyone had something to say about the baby—boy, girl, twins, carrying high, hanging low, coming early, never early, long labor, the commentaries continued. And then there was the laying on of hands—everyone touched her stomach as if her body belonged to them.

Not forty-five minutes passed before Hosea grabbed her and the two slipped from the room. Following her husband, she climbed the short steps that led to the second floor.

“Where are we sneaking to?” Jasmine giggled.

“My old bedroom,” he whispered. “I could tell those people were getting on your nerves.”

“No, they weren’t.”

“Stop lying. They were getting on my nerves too.”

They held their laughs until Hosea opened the door to the room farthest down the hall. When Jasmine stepped inside, her giggles stopped. She had stepped into the middle of the 1980s.

One wall was covered with faded pictures of Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. On the other, the dulling posters were of Michael Jackson in his Billie Jean pose and a picture of the ensemble from “We Are the World.”

Slowly, she walked through the room past the long twin-sized bed and the dresser covered with dusty trophies.

“I received these for track and field,” Hosea said, holding up one of the awards.

“You ran track?”

He nodded. “What did you think? I was a bowler?”

“Well, a runner—”

“You’d better take that look back. I was slender in my early years.”

“I love you the way you are now.”

Her journey continued, touching, exploring, connecting with her husband’s past. In front of the dresser, she paused. Picked up a picture. Laughed out loud.

“I know you ain’t clownin’ a brother,” he said.

“I don’t have to.” She held up the senior class picture for him to see. “You did a pretty good job clownin’ yourself. I’m glad you got rid of that curl.”

“Shoot. That was nineteen eighty-eight. I’d like to see what you looked like then.”

She shook her head. “I ain’t crazy. You’re never going to see any old pictures of me.”

“Hmph. I bet Serena’s got a couple of photos.”

She laughed, but made a note to speak to her sister. Hosea couldn’t see or be told anything without her approval.

Inside, she sighed. It was moments like this when she longed to tell Hosea the truth. She wanted to share all of herself.

Hosea pulled her into his chest, wrapped his arms around her. But it was moments like this, when his arms were warmer than her mink coat, that she knew her lie was stronger than the truth could ever be. Hosea loved her more because she was carrying his baby.

“Next year at this time, we’ll be celebrating our second Christmas with our first child.” He paused. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could feel his thoughts.

“You’re thinking about your mom,” she whispered.

“How’d you know?”

“Because I’m thinking about my mom…and my dad.”

With the tips of his fingers, he lifted her chin. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I have a little bit of sad, but I’m mostly happy.”

“I have some sad too. But I have a lot more happy because of you.”

A knock startled them, and Reverend Bush opened the door.

“Son, didn’t I tell you not to bring girls up here?” Reverend Bush laughed.

“Oh, my bad.”

“Well, whatever you two are doing, it has to stop. We’re about to chow down.”

“Gotcha, Pops.”

When the reverend closed the door leaving them alone, Hosea said, “I wish we didn’t have to go down there.”

“Are you kidding? That’s where the food is and our baby is hungry.”

“Is she now?” Hosea said, before he bowed and kissed her stomach.

“Oh, she’s a she today, huh?”

He grinned. “Just want you to know that I’m an equal opportunity dad.” He paused. “Dad, dad. I love that word.”

“Let’s go eat,” she said.

“Well, you’re in for a treat. Mrs. Bower has been Pops’ cook since Mom passed. And I’m telling you, she can whip up some things that will have you slapping somebody else’s mama.”

She grabbed his hand. “Now that sounds like fun.” She laughed as she imagined giving Brother Hill or Mrs. Whittingham a slap or two. But she got rid of that un-Christian thought. It was, after all, Christmas.

Only remnants of the
dinner remained.

Still, the aroma of the Cornish hens, ham, macaroni and cheese, yams, collard greens, rice with gravy, and biscuits spilled into the living room. Jasmine staggered in first, and flopped onto the couch.

“You were right,” she said, when Hosea lowered himself next to her. “Mrs. Bower sure can cook.”

Hosea laughed.

“Okay.” Reverend Bush clapped his hands twice. “Our stomachs need a little time to make room for the dessert. So, I say, let’s get to the gifts.”

Jasmine closed her eyes and moaned. She’d indulged well past the point of satisfaction and was sure she’d be wedged to this couch for the next month. But still, she wished she and Hosea could make a graceful exit since they’d agreed not to exchange gifts until after the Christmas rush.

“Darlin’.”

“Hmmm.” She didn’t open her eyes.

“Look at this.”

First, she peeked through one eye and then the other. Then both stretched wide with surprise. “I thought—”

“We weren’t exchanging gifts?” He chuckled. “You didn’t think I’d really stick to that on our first Christmas.”

She grabbed the light blue box and when she lifted the lid, she gasped at the diamond key-shaped pendant. “This is beautiful.”

“I just wanted you to know,” he said, tapping his chest, “that you will always have the key to my heart.”

It had to be the corniest line she’d ever heard, and the most wonderful. She hugged him, held him as close as her swollen belly would allow.

She twisted around and held up her ponytail as he clasped the chain. The key rested just inches above her heart. “I’m never taking this off.”

She leaned back into his arms and watched the others across the room.

“Now this is nice,” Reverend Bush said as he pulled a purple silk monogrammed smoking jacket from a box.

“That’s very nice,” Mrs. Whittingham gushed.

“This is from my son and daughter-in-law.” The reverend grinned. “But if I had to guess, Jasmine picked this out because my son, although I love him, his taste isn’t this good.”

They laughed.

“First of all, Pops, I’ve got great taste. Look at the woman I married.”

Jasmine didn’t miss the glance that traveled between Brother Hill and Mrs. Whittingham.

“And second,” Hosea continued, “I’ll have you know I selected that for you. So, now what do you have to say?”

“Only thank you, son.” He hugged him and then kissed Jasmine. “Now, I have something for you two.” He handed them a Ralph Lauren box.

They scooted to the edge of the couch and Jasmine took out a pink-and-blue coverall. Underneath, there was a pink-and-blue hat and matching booties. And finally, Jasmine pulled out a cashmere baby blanket.

“I know we still have a few months, but I want to make sure that my grandchild comes home in style.”

“This is perfect.” Jasmine grinned. “It’ll work for a grandson or a granddaughter.”

The reverend laughed. “I was trying to be right, but then I couldn’t help myself.” He handed a second box to Hosea.

Laughter lifted through the room when Hosea held up the catcher’s mitt.

Reverend Bush shrugged. “Sue me. But first, I’d like to make a toast. Does everyone have eggnog?” The reverend waited until all held glasses were raised in the air. “To my friends and family. As we celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior this is the perfect time to note new beginnings. While I’m fortunate to be surrounded by old friends, this Christmas holds new blessings. First, my son is home for good.” He smiled at Hosea. “And then, he blessed me this year with a daughter-in-law. And now on this day when we celebrate one birth, we are looking forward to another—my first grandchild.” He paused as everyone’s eyes turned to Hosea and Jasmine. Even Brother Hill and Mrs. Whittingham wore smiles. “Welcome to this family, Jasmine. And I look forward to a lifetime of Christmases with you, Hosea, and…my grand…children.”

With nods and “Cheers,” they clicked their glasses.

Jasmine smiled. “Thank you.” She paused before she added, “Dad.” She spoke softly, as if she didn’t want him—or anyone else—to hear.

But his smile revealed that he’d heard and was pleased. “Okay, let’s continue this gorge feast. Our desserts are waiting.”

While the others followed Reverend Bush, Hosea pulled Jasmine back down on the couch with him. “This is the happiest I’ve seen my pops in years.”

“Really? I can’t imagine him any other way,” Jasmine said, thinking that even when he was beating her down with his words, he always did so with a smile.