Divine Intervention (32 page)
Read Divine Intervention Online
Authors: Lutishia Lovely
“I didn’t think I wanted it either, Kelvin. I had no idea how much you could miss something that you never really had.”
“So it’s cool then, a’ight? If you’re pregnant, then we’ll celebrate. If you’re not, then we’ll keep practicing. Every day.” Princess smiled. “All day.”
“Shut up . . .”
“I’m serious. I’m about ready for a mini-me.”
“Or mini-me!”
“Naw, I’m not ready to fight off the young bloods. Give me a hardhead so I can show him the ropes.”
Princess scooted off the bed. “Whatever.” She walked to the en suite master bath and turned before she entered. “Come with me?”
Kelvin rose from the bed and met her at the door. “Come on, girl. I should know by now that you can’t do nothing without me.” He dodged the hit aimed at his shoulder and leaned back on the vanity. “Go ahead and do it.”
Princess sat down. “I can’t pee!”
“Girl, come on now.”
“Really,” Princess said, with a laugh. “I just used the bathroom. Nothing will come out.”
“Hold on, let me go get you some water. I’m going to pour it down your throat until you pee.”
This made Princess laugh so hard that a small trickle finally eased itself onto the wand. “The directions say to wait two minutes,” she said, holding the long white stick in her hand.
“Then how do you know?”
“If it has ...” Her voice faded as she looked at the small circle showing the results. “Two pink stripes—that means I’m pregnant.”
Kelvin looked over her shoulder and came face to face with two bold pink stripes.
“You’re pregnant?”
Princess nodded, as her eyes filled with tears.
Kelvin picked her up, kissing her all over as he walked them back into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and then joined her. “My baby’s pregnant with my baby,” he murmured, before kissing her deeply, thoroughly and again. “I’m getting ready to have a son.”
“Or daughter.”
“It will be ours,” Kelvin replied, snuggling her body against his. “That’s all that matters.”
During her first ultrasound, Princess and Kelvin found out that they were both right. They were pregnant with twins: a boy and a girl. It was yet another masterful intervention. Of the divine kind.
A READING GROUP GUIDE
DIVINE INTERVENTION
Lutishia Lovely
ABOUT THIS GUIDE
The suggested questions that follow
are included to enhance your group’s
reading of this book.
are included to enhance your group’s
reading of this book.
Discussion Questions
1.
Regarding the tug-of-war for Princess Brook, who were you rooting for, Rafael or Kelvin? Why?
Regarding the tug-of-war for Princess Brook, who were you rooting for, Rafael or Kelvin? Why?
2.
Kelvin seems to be making a genuine effort to stop being a womanizer. Do you think it’s possible for a professional athlete to be monogamous and remain faithful to their significant other?
Kelvin seems to be making a genuine effort to stop being a womanizer. Do you think it’s possible for a professional athlete to be monogamous and remain faithful to their significant other?
3.
Rafael develops an unexpected friendship with Kiki Minor, someone who befriended Princess and then invited herself to be a part of Princess’s wedding. Thoughts?
Rafael develops an unexpected friendship with Kiki Minor, someone who befriended Princess and then invited herself to be a part of Princess’s wedding. Thoughts?
4.
It’s ironic that both Princess and Kiki end up in the same situation at the same time. Princess alluded to the four of them—her, Kelvin, Kiki, and Rafael—being friends. Do you think this is possible?
It’s ironic that both Princess and Kiki end up in the same situation at the same time. Princess alluded to the four of them—her, Kelvin, Kiki, and Rafael—being friends. Do you think this is possible?
5.
Tai knew that her daughter still held deep feelings for Kelvin. Should she have done more to talk Princess out of marrying Rafael?
Tai knew that her daughter still held deep feelings for Kelvin. Should she have done more to talk Princess out of marrying Rafael?
6.
Regarding the tug-of-war for Princess’s grandmother, Mama Max, who were you rooting for, Obadiah or Henry? Why?
Regarding the tug-of-war for Princess’s grandmother, Mama Max, who were you rooting for, Obadiah or Henry? Why?
7.
We finally learned what caused Mama Max’s aversion to sex. Did her nonparticipation in this marital act justify Obadiah’s affair? Why or why not?
We finally learned what caused Mama Max’s aversion to sex. Did her nonparticipation in this marital act justify Obadiah’s affair? Why or why not?
8.
In most of this book’s romantic entanglements, sex plays a major role. How important do you think sex is to a relationship? What other qualities are equally important?
In most of this book’s romantic entanglements, sex plays a major role. How important do you think sex is to a relationship? What other qualities are equally important?
9.
In some instances, drastic measures were taken to show love and loyalty. Have you ever done something drastic to get the attention of a love interest? To prove your love? To get revenge?
In some instances, drastic measures were taken to show love and loyalty. Have you ever done something drastic to get the attention of a love interest? To prove your love? To get revenge?
10.
After discovering Derrick’s illness, the Montgomerys’ faith was sorely tested. What challenges in your life have tested your belief in what God can do?
After discovering Derrick’s illness, the Montgomerys’ faith was sorely tested. What challenges in your life have tested your belief in what God can do?
11.
For King Brook, Charmaine Freeman was an instant temptation. Have you ever been tempted? If so, by what, and what did you do about it?
For King Brook, Charmaine Freeman was an instant temptation. Have you ever been tempted? If so, by what, and what did you do about it?
12.
Were you surprised with Tai’s reaction to what occurred on the island? Do you think this action was justified? Can you ever think of an instance where her actions wouldn’t be okay?
Were you surprised with Tai’s reaction to what occurred on the island? Do you think this action was justified? Can you ever think of an instance where her actions wouldn’t be okay?
13.
How did you feel about what eventually happened to Charmaine? Was that divine intervention, an extremely unfortunately incident, or both?
How did you feel about what eventually happened to Charmaine? Was that divine intervention, an extremely unfortunately incident, or both?
14.
Charmaine’s father, Minister Freeman, seemed to not only approve of her relationship with a married man, King, but endorse it. What are your thoughts on this?
Charmaine’s father, Minister Freeman, seemed to not only approve of her relationship with a married man, King, but endorse it. What are your thoughts on this?
15.
It’s interesting that King and his father found themselves in the same place, at the same time. Has there ever been an instance in your life where you’ve told your child or someone else to “do as I say, not as I do”? What happened?
It’s interesting that King and his father found themselves in the same place, at the same time. Has there ever been an instance in your life where you’ve told your child or someone else to “do as I say, not as I do”? What happened?
16.
Despite all that had happened, Mama Max forgave Obadiah. Is there someone in your life who you need to forgive? Is there someone from whom you need to ask forgiveness?
Despite all that had happened, Mama Max forgave Obadiah. Is there someone in your life who you need to forgive? Is there someone from whom you need to ask forgiveness?
17.
Despite appearing completely healthy, Derrick faced a serious issue. When is the last time you’ve had a complete, head-to-toe checkup? If it’s been more than a year, make that appointment now! Please and thank you!
Despite appearing completely healthy, Derrick faced a serious issue. When is the last time you’ve had a complete, head-to-toe checkup? If it’s been more than a year, make that appointment now! Please and thank you!
18.
In the front of this book, I shared with you my first conscious experience with divine intervention. Share one (or more) times in your life when a miracle occurred.
In the front of this book, I shared with you my first conscious experience with divine intervention. Share one (or more) times in your life when a miracle occurred.
Up next in the Hallelujah Love series....
The members of Kingdom Citizens Christian Center believe in sharing the spirit of love and generosity to others. Even so, they can’t seem to follow the ten commandments, a fact that suggests it just might be time to add another rule....
The Eleventh Commandment
Coming in March 2013 from Dafina Books
Here’s an excerpt from
The Eleventh Commandment
....
The Eleventh Commandment
....
1
Friendships and Fatherhood
“O
oh, yeah, just like that, just like that!” Frieda Moore-Livingston cooed as expert hands moved up and down her bare back, across her shoulders and back down . . . kneading, rubbing, before coming to that sensitive dimpled spot just above her juicy assets. “That . . . feels . . . so . . . good.” Oohs and aahs surrounded each word that oozed from her lips. Strong, lean fingers continued down her thighs, paying special attention to the calves and feet before coming back the way they’d come, lingering at the small of her back, switching to feather-light strokes as they splayed across her shoulders and along the nape of her neck. Frieda felt as though she’d have an orgasm right on the spot. It had taken her awhile to understand the hype. But now she was a true believer: there was nothing better than an afternoon massage.
oh, yeah, just like that, just like that!” Frieda Moore-Livingston cooed as expert hands moved up and down her bare back, across her shoulders and back down . . . kneading, rubbing, before coming to that sensitive dimpled spot just above her juicy assets. “That . . . feels . . . so . . . good.” Oohs and aahs surrounded each word that oozed from her lips. Strong, lean fingers continued down her thighs, paying special attention to the calves and feet before coming back the way they’d come, lingering at the small of her back, switching to feather-light strokes as they splayed across her shoulders and along the nape of her neck. Frieda felt as though she’d have an orgasm right on the spot. It had taken her awhile to understand the hype. But now she was a true believer: there was nothing better than an afternoon massage.
“We’re done, pretty lady.” Tyson, the masseur to the stars and to those with star quality (translated, plenty of cash), tapped Frieda lightly on the shoulder to signal the end of their session. “See you next week?”
“Of course, baby,” Frieda said, turning over and getting off the table, shamelessly letting the towel fall on the floor. More than once Tyson had suggested she wait until he leave to begin dressing but Frieda had other plans. Often, she’d wondered how it would be to have other body parts massaged during these sessions, but so far her not-too-subtle hints had only been met with a patient smile. The first assumption had been that he was gay. After all, who would turn down what Frieda called “pussy on a platter?” But her friend Stacy’s baby daddy, Darius, had told her that Tyson didn’t get down in that club and since the platinum selling R&B singing sensation was patently homosexual and very much a part of that world, Frieda thought that he would know. If not for the fact that she was now headed to a thick link of sausage not far from her old stomping grounds, she might have been insulted. As it was, she simply laughed as Tyson quickly averted his eyes and left the room.
Moments later, Frieda clicked the locks on her shiny new Lexus LX and slid inside. Ever since she’d purchased the pearl wonder with light tan seats, she’d given to wearing outfits and/or accessories in the same color, often finished off with Louboutin pumps and pearl-colored Gucci shades. Frieda’s picture could have appeared next to the word materialistic, but she didn’t mind. She’d learned that in L.A. image was everything. She had faked it until she made it and snagged a doctor in the process. Thinking of Gabriel, the hard-working husband and sponsor of the designer duds she wore, caused a tiny tinge of guilt as she turned down Martin Luther King Boulevard and headed toward where she used to live. Passing row after row of modest apartments much like the one she’d rented upon arrival from Kansas City, she reflected on her journey from then till now, and how far she’d come in less than five years. When she’d left the Midwest and a drug-slinging boyfriend to join her cousin and best friend, Hope Taylor, in the City of Angels, all she’d hoped for was a good time. And now here she was a wife and mother, living in a tony Westside neighborhood amid five-thousand square feet of luxury, a bank account courtesy of her husband that never boasted less than five figures, credit cards with no limits, a chef, a maid, and a nanny/housekeeper. Sometimes she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. And sometimes she had to do what she was doing now . . . go slumming for something that money couldn’t buy. A thick piece of sausage.
“Get in here girl,” a tall brothah said as he opened his apartment door. His island accent was as sexy as his long thick locks, his ebony skin, his straight white teeth and his washboard abs. “You know me don’t like to wait for ya.”
Frieda was nonplussed as she threw her purse on the couch. She kept silent as she unzipped the front zipper on her pearl-colored mini and let it fall to the floor. Her cell phone vibrated, but she ignored it as she reached behind her and unclasped her bra. The youngblood’s eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips.
That’s right. This caramel goodness is worth the wait, isn’t it?
Her nanny/housekeeper ’s son, Clark, could say whatever he wanted to just as long as he did what she told him to. And he did. Long and hard. Every single time. “Stop sulking and get over here,” she said, looking fierce while wearing nothing but a wispy thong, five-inch pumps and a smile. “And show
mami
how much you’ve missed me since I’ve been gone.”
That’s right. This caramel goodness is worth the wait, isn’t it?
Her nanny/housekeeper ’s son, Clark, could say whatever he wanted to just as long as he did what she told him to. And he did. Long and hard. Every single time. “Stop sulking and get over here,” she said, looking fierce while wearing nothing but a wispy thong, five-inch pumps and a smile. “And show
mami
how much you’ve missed me since I’ve been gone.”
Two hours later a totally satiated and satisfied Frieda left the hood and headed back toward the Westside, and her appointment at the spa. The man was a beast, and she needed professional help to wipe the just-been-sexed-to-within-an-inch-of-my-life look off her face and body. It would be the last appointment of the day before heading home to a quiet evening, probably alone. Even though it was likely that Gabriel would work well into the night, Frieda always scheduled a spa visit after her romps with Clark. She never wanted to make her husband suspicious and had learned early on that the astute doctor didn’t miss much. No, tonight she was not in the mood for a lecture on what he sometimes called “behavior inappropriate for a doctor’s wife.” There was already enough on her mind. Like Gabriel, and how she was going to continue to have her cake and eat it too.
Her phone rang and as she looked at the dash, she again felt a twinge of guilt. The last thing in the world she ever thought would happen is that she’d go soft. The old Frieda wouldn’t have given two hoots about what anybody else thought or felt. Undoubtedly her cousin would attribute it to the Holy Spirit that Hope swore never left Frieda’s side.
I hope that brothah took a break just now. Otherwise He got an eyeful!
Frieda thought it was less likely divine intervention and more probably motherhood that had unearthed the heart she’d buried during her teenage years, fending for herself on Prospect Avenue, perhaps dug up by the two-year-old who had both his parents wrapped around his finger.
Or maybe it’s you,
she thought, reaching to connect the call. She could honestly say she loved the somewhat stodgy, somewhat geeky doctor whose work was his passion. Even though he bored her to tears.
I hope that brothah took a break just now. Otherwise He got an eyeful!
Frieda thought it was less likely divine intervention and more probably motherhood that had unearthed the heart she’d buried during her teenage years, fending for herself on Prospect Avenue, perhaps dug up by the two-year-old who had both his parents wrapped around his finger.
Or maybe it’s you,
she thought, reaching to connect the call. She could honestly say she loved the somewhat stodgy, somewhat geeky doctor whose work was his passion. Even though he bored her to tears.
“Hey, Gabe.” Frieda turned down the sounds blasting from her speakers as she spoke.
“Where are you?” Gabriel Livingston’s voice was just short of curt. “I’ve called you three times.”
Just then Frieda remembered that her phone had vibrated earlier, when she’d been so focused on . . . well . . . various types of massages and she’d forgotten to turn it back on. “I’ve been out running errands,” she said, the beginning of an attitude creeping into her voice. Having basically been on her own since she was fifteen years old, she wasn’t too used to having to report her whereabouts.
“Evelyn said you’ve been gone for hours.”
That nosey housekeeper needs to mind her own business!
Frieda made a mental note to speak to her housekeeper at the next opportunity. Sistah-girl wouldn’t get fired as long as her tenderoni son was handling that pipe like he did, but his mama was definitely going to have to put her mouth on lock. “After my workout I went to get my weekly massage, then went shopping”—
screwing but hey, they both have eight letters and start with an S—
“so yeah, I guess I’ve been gone for awhile.”
Frieda made a mental note to speak to her housekeeper at the next opportunity. Sistah-girl wouldn’t get fired as long as her tenderoni son was handling that pipe like he did, but his mama was definitely going to have to put her mouth on lock. “After my workout I went to get my weekly massage, then went shopping”—
screwing but hey, they both have eight letters and start with an S—
“so yeah, I guess I’ve been gone for awhile.”
“You can’t keep doing this, Frieda; spending your afternoons gallivanting while Evelyn watches our child. In the two years that she’s worked for us, I’m beginning to think Junior considers the nanny his mom.”
“Did you call to make me feel bad about taking care of myself?”
Gabriel’s exasperated huff came through the phone. “I called to tell you about a dinner engagement tonight with a prominent couple from D.C. An unexpected change of plans has them here for the evening; time enough to make an impression that will hopefully result in a large donation for the new oncology ward.” He told her the name of the restaurant. “Reservations are at eight.”
“Looks like it’s a good thing I’m on my way to the salon,” Frieda purred. “So I can look good and help impress your guests.”
By the time the call ended, Frieda knew that she’d flipped the frown that had undoubtedly marked Gabriel’s face when the call began. She turned back up the music as she thought about how opposite she was from Gabriel in so many ways, and how her vibrant personality is what had drawn him to her like a hummingbird to sugar water. He was often exasperated with her, but a witty quip, flirty phrase, or naughty innuendo could usually brighten his mood.
He’s so easy to manipulate.
And when it came to fathers, there was none better. That heart that Frieda liked to ignore constricted a bit. She really did love Gabriel. He’d do anything for her, and even more for his namesake, the namesake that every day was looking less and less like the good doctor and more and more like one of the men that Frieda used to know.
He’s so easy to manipulate.
And when it came to fathers, there was none better. That heart that Frieda liked to ignore constricted a bit. She really did love Gabriel. He’d do anything for her, and even more for his namesake, the namesake that every day was looking less and less like the good doctor and more and more like one of the men that Frieda used to know.
2
The Ex Factor
I
t was a picture-perfect evening in La Jolla, California, an upscale suburb of San Diego. Cy and Hope Taylor sat on their ocean-front patio, sipping wine and enjoying a sunset that was painted by God. The chilled wine they sipped was a rare vintage that Cy had procured on a recent trip to Italy, vino that Hope had unashamedly poured into sensibly-priced crystal wine glasses purchased at a discount chain. God had blessed her with the good life, a life beyond her wildest dreams. But she wasn’t bougie. A no-nonsense mother, matter-of-fact father and growing up in the tight-knit Baptist church community in Tulsa, Oklahoma, had grounded her designer-clad feet firmly on the ground. “Don’t get so high that you can’t see low,” her mother would tell her on more than one occasion, like after the church when mothers fawned over a song she’d sung or a dance she’d choreographed. Or when the teachers commented on the well-mannered pretty girl with big brown eyes, thick braids and good grades, Pat would remind Hope that God had given her the ability to have those things, that they’d not been achieved simply through actions of her own. Even now, this down-to-earth mother was in La Jolla, passing down that same wisdom to Cy and Hope’s three-year old twins, Camon and Acacia. Hope and Cy relished the quiet time, and each other.
t was a picture-perfect evening in La Jolla, California, an upscale suburb of San Diego. Cy and Hope Taylor sat on their ocean-front patio, sipping wine and enjoying a sunset that was painted by God. The chilled wine they sipped was a rare vintage that Cy had procured on a recent trip to Italy, vino that Hope had unashamedly poured into sensibly-priced crystal wine glasses purchased at a discount chain. God had blessed her with the good life, a life beyond her wildest dreams. But she wasn’t bougie. A no-nonsense mother, matter-of-fact father and growing up in the tight-knit Baptist church community in Tulsa, Oklahoma, had grounded her designer-clad feet firmly on the ground. “Don’t get so high that you can’t see low,” her mother would tell her on more than one occasion, like after the church when mothers fawned over a song she’d sung or a dance she’d choreographed. Or when the teachers commented on the well-mannered pretty girl with big brown eyes, thick braids and good grades, Pat would remind Hope that God had given her the ability to have those things, that they’d not been achieved simply through actions of her own. Even now, this down-to-earth mother was in La Jolla, passing down that same wisdom to Cy and Hope’s three-year old twins, Camon and Acacia. Hope and Cy relished the quiet time, and each other.
“It’s been awhile since we’ve done this, huh?” Cy reached over and took his wife’s hand in his, held it up to kiss the back of it.
“The world is so quiet when they are gone; I almost can’t remember what life was like without them.” Having refused Cy’s offer to hire a nanny, Hope’s life had turned from that of a 9-5 working girl to a full-time doting mom. She’d have it no other way. “For years, I thought I’d never have children. I’m thankful for them every day.” She leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek, still reveling in his star good looks after almost six years of marriage. His tall stature, dark caramel skin, soft curly hair and cocoa eyes framed by ridiculously long lashes never ceased to make her heart skip a beat and her panties grow wet. Cy Taylor had been one heck of a catch, another blessing that was above and beyond what she ever dared dream.
Cy turned, and took the chaste kiss Hope had intended to another level, brushing his lips across hers before running his tongue across the opening of her mouth and when she complied, slipping it inside. The headiness of their love matched the potency of the wine and within seconds, the lovebirds were caught up in a dance they’d perfected over time: lips touching, tongues twirling, hearts beating as one. He looked up through desire-darkened eyes and gazed upon the woman he loved: her chocolate skin, big doe-eyes, and thick lips parted with wanting.
“Let’s go inside.” The insistency in Cy’s voice hinted of a desire to take her here, now, on the smooth slate stones of the patio.
“Mama will be back with the kids anytime,” Hope replied. At Cy’s sigh, she smiled. Their love-making schedule was forever changed when the kids came, and getting in where fitting in had taken on a whole new meaning. “I know, me too,” she finished, with a final peck on his lips before sitting up, reaching for her wineglass, and a taking a cooling swallow. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of all of that,” Hope gestured at his obvious erection, “later tonight.”
“All right.” Cy stretched his long legs in front of him to offer a bit of relief to the long leg in the middle. “Best to change the subject then. Otherwise, Mom Pat will walk into a situation best not seen by mother-in-laws.”
“Not to mention our children.”
“Remember that time—”
“Ha! The twins coming in the room . . .”
“Standing at the end of the bed—”
“Eyes wide, wondering . . .”
“And then little Camon pipes up, ‘what y’all doin’?’ ”
Cy is really laughing now. “I look down and all I see are two sets of eyes barely able to peer over the mattress.”
“And my response to their question, ‘we’re just playing.’ ”
“Good thing I was riding it low and slow, instead of punching you like a time clock with your legs thrown over my shoulders.”
“Ha! Not exactly our idea of a teachable moment, huh?”
“No, baby. Not especially.” They were silent a moment, both reflecting on what had been one of the funniest incidents of their parenthood. “You know what, baby? I had no idea how much having children would change our household, or being a father would change my life.”
Headlights coming up their quarter-mile long entrance signaled the end of the couple’s alone time and Pat’s return with the twins from their outing. As they left the patio, Hope looked at Cy, noted the look of contentment on his face. It mirrored her own. For years, more than a decade, she’d prayed (cried, begged, bargained) for a husband and children. It had been her singular goal for most of her adulthood. And here she was, living out the answer to that prayer.
Thank you, God. Thank you for everything that I have, and all that I am. Thank you for my family, my parents, my friends. Bless those whose prayers you have yet to answer, Lord. Bless them with the desires of their heart, the same way you’ve done for me. Amen.
Thank you, God. Thank you for everything that I have, and all that I am. Thank you for my family, my parents, my friends. Bless those whose prayers you have yet to answer, Lord. Bless them with the desires of their heart, the same way you’ve done for me. Amen.
On the other side of the country, in a beautifully restored brownstone in the Edgecomb area of Harlem, New York, side, another woman had just finished a prayer. She was still reeling from news received a month before, news that had caused her to take stock of her life. Highlight accomplishments, acknowledge regrets. The latter is why she’d just typed an email to a man she’d not recently seen but had never forgotten, the first and only man she’d ever truly loved. Reading the letter one more time, hoping that it contained the right mix of casualness and desire, her finger hovered uncertainly over the button before she finally pushed send.
Okay, God. I’ve done what I can do. What happens at this point is up to You . . . and Cy Taylor.
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