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Authors: Monica P. Carter

BOOK: Scandalous Truth
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Chapter 11
Danielle arrived at work an hour and a half late, but breezed in as if nothing was amiss. She gave her supervisor a quick explanation about a life-and-death emergency to stifle any complaints, then went about her duties.
Her mind went briefly to Nikki. It sure was a lot easier for Nikki to try to dish advice than it was for her to take it, Danielle mused. All Danielle had tried to do was give Nikki the same advice Nikki had wanted to give her. Danielle felt certain this medical issue wasn't that big of a deal. After all, how serious could it be if she had never even heard of the condition?
Danielle forgot about Psalm as she grabbed a stack of patient charts. She moved from patient to patient with little incident, until an altercation rattled her. Danielle escaped to her office for a few moments after a particularly harrowing confrontation with a patient. The man had tried to kill himself after losing his job and discovering his wife wanted a divorce. This was his third week of treatment. He shoved Danielle and she had almost gone crashing headfirst into the wall, but managed to regain her balance. She had to call in help to have him restrained. Now, back in her office to collect her thoughts, the restlessness she felt erupted.
“I can't wait to get out of this place,” she fumed. “These people are working my nerves.” Her phone rang the second she sat down. “Danielle Esperanza, may I help you?” she said in her professional voice.
“You know Troy was lying,” said a female voice on the other end.
“Who is this?”
“You know who this is,” the voice said. “I'm the woman you're so concerned about that you would leave your warm bed at four in the morning to come find.”
“Look, I don't know who you think you are, calling my job—”
“Knock it off,” the woman said. “I'm just calling to tell you, you can have Troy. I don't need some man who keeps trying to play me. I see you're into games. I'm not. My cousin just moved in next door to him and she told me about your visit last night. Troy and I spent the day together, in bed. I left to go home because that's the only way I could get some rest—he wore me out. He was probably exhausted when you showed up; he probably was asleep, I imagine.
“If I had known you were coming over, though, I would have stayed an extra fifteen minutes. I told Troy, if I ever caught him fooling around on me, that was it.”
“Fooling around on you?” Danielle's blood pressure rose. “I'm the girlfriend. I don't know who you are. Probably some two-bit home wrecker.”
“Well, name-calling isn't necessary,” the woman said. “And for the record, the name is Chastity. Have a good day.”
The phone went dead in Danielle's ear.
Chapter 12
Nikki telephoned the insurance company again, but still got nowhere. Another representative, this one a man with a thick accent, gave her the same news. Her child's surgery was not covered.
She plopped down on the couch, the silent phone in her lap. She knew she had to figure this thing out. Psalm seemed to be feeling all right, but Nikki wanted medical assurance. “Maybe I should go back to work, no matter what William says. At least then we'd have more money and good health insurance,” she pondered out loud, but then stopped herself. “But no, that's not part of the plan. William wants me to be home.”
Nikki recalled the feelings of loneliness she held as a child, especially when her mother remarried. The marriage had meant more material things for Nikki, but those things could never take away the feeling of losing her mother's attention. She even gained a sister, Carla, through the marriage because her stepfather brought with him a daughter, but even that didn't save her from the intense feelings of being by herself in the world.
Carla needed all the attention—first, because she was the baby, and then later, because she always seemed to get into trouble. Nikki's mother constantly rushed to Carla's aid, doing whatever it took to make her new daughter and new husband feel comfortable. Nikki remembered needing braces but her mother told her they didn't have the money. The next day, it seemed to Nikki's mind, Carla was wearing braces.
Nikki often stayed after school for activities, but Carla, who hated school, went straight home. If the after-school bus was late dropping Nikki off, it didn't matter. Her family would go out to dinner without her. On more than one occasion, she arrived to an empty house with only a dinner of peanut butter and crackers, while her family dined on pasta and steak in a popular restaurant.
She vowed she would never let her child know what it felt like not to have her mother's attention and concern. Nikki knew she had to find a way to get that surgery for Psalm.
Chapter 13
William tapped the keyboard for the final time and stood. “Okay, you're all set,” he said and smiled at the blonde who looked relieved. “Your computer is good as new.”
“Oh, thank you!” the woman said. She put her hand to her chest in an exaggerated expression of relief. “I was so afraid I had lost all my important documents. When the computer crashed I thought I would die.”
They were at the woman's home office.
“Well, it was simple to fix,” William said, taking the check the woman held out to him. He thanked her and left, his mind already on his work ahead.
The hospital visit had resulted in him missing his first computer appointment of the morning, so now he was headed to the campaign office, a tiny space on Jewella Avenue.
William dialed home. “Hey, baby. How is Psalm?” he asked when Nikki answered.
“She's fine. She's been playing for the last half hour. She hasn't eaten much, but she doesn't appear to be in any kind of pain.”
“Oh, that's good to hear,” William said. “How are you?”
“I'm mad!” The words were so loud, William pulled the phone from his ear for a moment.
“What happened?” he asked, putting the phone back in position to hear his wife.
“The insurance company,” she said. “They are such jerks. The woman was talking to me like I'm stupid or something. Then I called back and talked to a man and he wasn't any help either. Bottom line is they aren't going to pay for this procedure.”
“What did they say?”
“That it's not the recommended treatment.”
“Did you tell them a doctor said this is what she needs?”
“Yeah,” Nikki said. “You know all they care about is the money.”
“Well, don't let them get you down, baby,” he said. “Maybe she doesn't need the surgery after all. You just said she's been playing. Maybe God has already granted deliverance.”
“She was playing all right early yesterday, too; but then we saw what happened,” Nikki shot back.
“All I'm saying is maybe we're being hasty with this surgery idea,” William said. “I've been praying. You've been praying. And really, what could one doctor know? God knows better and I believe He will heal Psalm, maybe He already has.”
“William, I can't see her go through that again,” Nikki's voice broke with emotion. “She was in so much pain. It hurt my heart. I hope she has already been healed, I really do, but I need to know for sure.”
“Baby, it will be fine,” William assured. “Just trust God.”
“That's your answer to everything!” Nikki snapped. “Just trust God. Well, I think sometimes God wants us to act as well. It's not enough just to trust that miracles will rain down from the sky. We have to do our part.”
“Fine,” William said. “We'll write the insurance company a letter or something. We'll get them to change their minds. All of this will get taken care of. You'll see.”
“Well, I just know my baby needs this surgery.”
“Okay, baby, we'll talk about it later,” William said. “I need to go, now. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
William climbed from the car and saw a reporter walking toward him.
“Is it true that Reverend Chance has a gambling problem?” the reporter asked William, who laughed.
“Is that the best you guys can do over there?” William said, walking toward the office.
“You didn't answer the question,” said Jimmy Vaughn, a short, balding reporter with ink-stained fingertips. He followed William into the tiny campaign office.
“No, he does not have a gambling problem.”
Jimmy helped himself to coffee, pouring a cup. The reporter called or stopped by the office at least twice a week it seemed, with some query about the mayoral candidate. William did his best to deflate rumors and to deflect anything that didn't sound good. He believed in his candidate and wanted the city to see this was the right man for the job.
“Well, we have it from reliable sources that he has lost large sums at the boats,” Jimmy said. “I'm doing some more digging, so this is your chance to get your side out.”
“There is nothing to get out,” William said. “Reverend Chance does not have a gambling problem.”
“If you say so.”
Jimmy shoved his notebook into the back of his pants, with the top sticking out. He took the last swig of his coffee, plunked the cup onto the counter, and left.
A moment later, Reverend Chance walked through the door, a cell phone to his ear and another one ringing in his pocket. He hung up that call, sent the incoming one to voice mail and gave a general greeting to everyone in the office. “Good morning, saints!”
A chorus of hellos greeted him in turn from those in the office: his daughter, Olivia, who was also his campaign manager; a new male volunteer who William had seen only once before; and William. Reverend Chance shook William's hand.
“How is it going, son?” Reverend Chance queried.
“Fine, Reverend,” William replied. “And yourself?”
“Oh, I'm on the battlefield for the Lord,” he said. “The devil will throw sticks, but the Lord keeps on breaking them.”
Reverend Chance clapped and let out a booming laugh. William recalled the first time he saw the man. Chance had been the speaker at a student government function, challenging each of the students to work for right and to reach for greatness. He had been so powerful, so moving that William had been an admirer ever since.
“So, what's going on around here?” Reverend Chance asked. He was tall, well over six foot, nearly 300 pounds, with broad shoulders and wore neatly pressed suits that had to be tailored especially for his large frame.
“Well, the other side just released poll results showing we are behind by a significant margin.” William hated to break the news.
“Well, we've fought uphill before,” Reverend Chance said. “That just means we work that much harder to get our message out.”
“We can order our own poll. I talked to the company yesterday. They are ready to go, if we want,” William said.
“Yes, but we don't have the money for that,” Reverend Chance said. “I think we'll wait another week or two and run the poll then.”
“Well, we've got to know what the public is thinking,” said Olivia, joining the conversation. She was stocky, with freshly permed hair and wore a dark blue suit.
“I know, dear, but we'll just trust the Lord for the next week or so and find out then,” Reverend Chance said.
“We can't just leave this one to trusting the Lord,” Olivia shot back.
Reverend Chance raised a brow and his tone grew stern. “We don't talk like that around here, Olivia.”
She insisted. “Daddy, the general election is only a few months away. And, that's if we make it that far.”
“I know. But I feel good about this.”
William wasn't so sure. Lo Dark's signs easily outnumbered theirs and the media coverage seemed to favor the incumbent. There were a few other candidates running, but they didn't bear much mentioning, as they weren't doing much campaigning. William swallowed before breaking the latest news.
“Jimmy Vaughn from
The Times
just stopped by. I'm surprised you didn't see him leaving on your way in,” William said. “They are trying to do a story about you and a gambling problem. I told them that was ridiculous, that you didn't have any such issues, but the guy seemed pretty intent on running something anyway.”
“Okay, well, get them back on the phone.”
“Do what?” William's eyes shot to Reverend Chance's face.
“Set a meeting, this afternoon if you can,” Reverend Chance said.
“What do you mean, sir? We don't have to entertain foolishness.”
“It's not foolishness.”
William's eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“I don't mind talking about it,” Reverend Chance said.
“I did waste a lot of money on the boats in my younger years, maybe ten years ago. But that's all behind me now. The Lord blessed me to overcome that.”
Olivia let out a snort. “That's all we need, more bad stuff in the paper.”
“Well, we can just come clean to the voters,” Reverend Chance said. “Honesty—”
“Is overrated,” Olivia said flatly. She put her hand on her father's arm. “Daddy, look. I understand that you want to be honest and tell folks about your past, but you and I both know you really don't want to go there.”
Reverend Chance kissed Olivia's cheek. “You worry too much,” he said.
“Well, somebody has to take control of things,” she said.
Reverend Chance glanced around the campaign office, then back at his daughter. “I do have control.” A slight edge crept into his tone.
“But, Daddy, you should just let me handle all of this,” she said. “I know how to run your campaign. Don't mess it up.”
“Olivia,” Reverend Chance said, “This conversation is over. I have made my decision. I will go public and trust the voters to make the right choice.”
William could tell Olivia wanted to protest, so he jumped in to steer the conversation away from a confrontation between father and daughter. “Maybe we should just wait and see.” William glanced at Olivia, then he nodded at Reverend Chance. “Let's err on the side of caution and sit tight for a moment, maybe. And then if anything else comes up, maybe you go public then.” He tried to broker a deal. William didn't want to see his candidate's numbers go even lower, and he knew a story about a free spending pastor would do just that. First his child, now his candidate. Could it get any worse?
“Just call them back, William,” Reverend Chance said. “Tell them we have a statement.”

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