The Eleventh Commandment (6 page)

T
he next morning Hope figured that her husband was as ravenous as she was. They'd made love almost all night long, recreating their favorite positions like it was the first time they'd been together instead of a couple that had been married for many years spending just three days apart. Cooking for him was almost as satisfying as making love, and she hummed as she placed the fruit salad she'd just prepared in the refrigerator and pulled out farm-fresh eggs and extra-sharp cheddar cheese for the vegetable omelet on the menu. In a nod to both of their vows for healthier eating, several slices of organic turkey bacon lay on a grill pan, ready for the broiler. When she heard footsteps on the stairs, she poured a glass of grapefruit juice and placed it next to a setting where two superfood capsules lay waiting to be consumed.

“Good morning!” She took in her handsome husband, dressed in a casual tan suit, mandarin-styled shirt with no tie, and loafers, and once again thanked God for the life in which she'd been blessed. “Do you want toast or English muffins?”

“Toast, please.” Cy walked over to kiss his wife, checking his smartphone for messages as he did so. “Somebody's responsible for my late start today. I need to leave here in about half an hour.”

“Well, whoever that somebody is needs a spanking.” She turned as if to prove her point, dressed in white boy shorts, a cropped white tee, and barefoot.

“Woman, don't tempt me. I've got a full day ahead.”

“Ha!” Hope added fresh vegetables to the frothy egg and cheese mixture and within minutes placed two piping hot plates on the table. After pouring her juice and topping off Cy's glass, she joined an obviously hungry man who was devouring his food.

“This is good, baby.”

Hope laughed. “I can tell.”

“Used a lot of calories last night.”

Hope cocked an eyebrow. “God be praised.”

“Ha!”

“We never did get around to talking about New York.,” she began after taking a few bites. “How was your trip to one of my favorite cities?”

“Very good,” Cy said, with a nod. “And somewhat interesting.”

“Really? How so?”

Cy told her about the interesting proposition he'd gotten regarding partnering on some property in Harlem and also near where the World Trade Center used to stand, a space now occupied by the newly finished Freedom Tower. “And then there was the e-mail I received from an old classmate.”

“From high school or college?”

“College.”

Hope finished her bite of omelet and reached for her mug of tea before sitting back against the breakfast booth. “What did he want?”

Cy hesitated only a second before correcting her. “It was a she, e-mailing about our fifteen-year reunion coming up.”

“That isn't really so unusual, babe. I remember months ago seeing a Facebook post about our high school reunion. I naturally started thinking about people I'd gone to school with and what they were doing now. Maybe that's what happened with her.”

“Maybe so, but there's a little more to it than that, love.” Cy finished off a piece of bacon, reached for the napkin and wiped his mouth. “We dated.”

“Oh.” The way Hope held out the two-letter word showed that she fully understand what this meant. She'd just spent a night with one of the most talented dicks in the world and knew that any woman who'd encountered it had never forgotten its skills. “So you think this old flame is trying to stoke the fire that kept me warm all last night?”

“I wouldn't say that. The e-mail was pretty straightforward, saying she'd gotten my e-mail address from a mutual friend who's on Facebook, and wanted to know how I was.” He flipped through his e-mails and showed her what had been written.

Hope read it quickly. “Trisha, huh? So just how special was she all those years ago?”

Cy shrugged. Later, he'd ponder on why he'd hedged the question. But in this moment he was only interested in moving on to the next topic before leaving for his office near San Diego. “She and I dated for most of our college years, before one of her supposed friends set me up.”

“Set you up? With someone other than Trisha?”

“She set me up to sleep with her knowing that Trisha would find out.”

“So Trisha found out and dumped you?”

“It sounds pretty harsh being described like that but, yes, in a nutshell that's what happened.”

“You've got to respect someone who values herself.”

“True.”

“So how do you feel about hearing from her after all these years?” Hope asked.

“I don't know. A bit curious, I guess, wondering how life has treated her after all this time.”

“So you responded?”

“Yes,” Cy replied with a nod. “And she replied. Turns out she lives in New York and I told her that I happened to be in her city. But I didn't hear from her again before I left so ... who knows if anything will even come of this.”

“Her correspondence doesn't make you want to attend the reunion?”

“It's put the event on my mind, no doubt. But I haven't been to one in ten years.” Cy leaned over and kissed his wife. “Who knows, it may be time to check another one out, show off my trophy wife.”

They finished breakfast and by the time Cy left for his city office, the twins were off for a romp in the nearby park before having their Spanish lessons with Rosie. Hope knew she'd have at least two uninterrupted hours of quiet time. She didn't intend to waste them. She'd just gone into her office, fired up her computer, and put a name into the search engine when her home phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hello, Hope.”

“Hey, Vivian!” Hope always loved hearing from Vivian Montgomery, first lady of Kingdom Citizens Christian Center, Hope's church home. She oftentimes thought this pastor's wife whose husband oversaw a megaministry had a sixth sense when it came to knowing one's need for having a sistah-girl conversation.

“You sound chipper this morning. Any particular reason for the good mood?”

“Cy was in New York for a couple days. He came home last night.”

“Ah.” Vivian's one-word response held a lifetime of marital understanding. “Well, I won't keep you. Are you busy right now?”

“Not really. Just doing a little investigative work.”

“Oh? Do I want to know why?”

“Probably not, but I want to tell you anyway. Her name is Trisha Underwood. She's a former college mate of Cy's from New York, who contacted him while he visited there. She reached out on the pretense of discussing their fifteen-year reunion, but you know how skeptical I can be when it comes to Cy and women.”

“Our minds may take it there a time or two too often, but our intuition never lies. What have you found on her?”

“I just started, but so far, nothing really. An article or two about some social organization with which she's involved, and her participation in the alumni association at Howard University.”

“Any pictures?”

Hope smiled, thankful for the woman who'd counseled her through a variety of ups and downs. Vivian was a Christian who kept it real, whom you could talk to without censoring your thoughts or words, a woman who not only believed in enjoying every aspect of marriage, but made sure that she was taking care of all of her husband's needs. “You know me too well,” she said at last.

“No, I know what I'd be looking for.” The smile on Vivian's face was evident in her voice.

“Several images came up under the name, but none of them were connected to the stories I think are tied to Cy's classmate.”

“Do you feel that there is anything to worry about?”

Hope's answer was quick and unequivocal. “No. They exchanged a couple e-mails but that was it. For all I know, she's one of the coordinators reaching out to everybody, not just Cy, especially since Cy hasn't seen her for fifteen years, since he graduated.”

“You're probably right.”

Hope switched from the screen containing Outlook to her Facebook account. “What about life in Beverly Hills? How is Derrick doing?”

“He's fine, thanks for asking. We continue to take it one day at a time, and his last doctor appointment showed no return of the tumor. In fact, the doctor feels that Derrick is healthier than he's ever been.”

Everyone even remotely connected with Vivian and Derrick's church knew that the past year had been quite challenging. Derrick had faced a major illness that attempted to derail his ministerial career, and even though Hope and Cy were an hour away and not nearly as active in the church as they'd once been, they were still very involved with the ministry. It's where they continued to tithe and where they tried to worship at least once or twice a month. Other Sundays were spent at Open Arms, a church in San Diego led by their neighbor, Jack Kirtz, with help from his capable first lady wife, Millicent. And then other mornings Hope and Cy worshipped God in unusual ways, such as by taking their children to the beach or the park, and thanking God for nature's workmanship that they enjoyed.

“I'm so glad to hear that, Vivian.” Hope looked at the clock, noted that time was passing faster than she'd like, and that she still had several things she wanted to accomplish before preparing the children's lunch. “What can I do for you, sis?”

“I'm calling about the e-mail I sent you last month. About the specifics of the Sanctity of Sisterhood's The Woman I Am Summit happening this fall.”

“Yes, I received the material. Just by the title I'm liking it already.”

“Thanks, Hope. Even though this is a minisummit, since it's regional and lasting only one and a half days, I want it to pack as much punch as our full-blown ones. It's going to be a mini-KCCC reunion of sorts: you, Millicent, and a few other ex-members who've relocated and I haven't seen in awhile. Since I know you keep in constant contact with your cousin, I'm hoping that she and Stacy will also be able to participate. If possible, a highlight of the final service would be an appearance by our former minister of music and Stacy's baby daddy, but I know his schedule stays booked.”

“I'll be talking to Stacy later today and will definitely mention it. No promises on whether or not Darius can show up, but hey . . . nothing beats a failure but a try.”

“I'm so proud of you, Hope. It seems like just yesterday that you showed up at our church as Cy's fiancée. And now here you are a wife, mother, and mover and shaker in your part of the world. Yours is a prime example that dreams can come true, and that God does answer prayer. That is why I'd like for you to be one of the speakers on Saturday. Have you share your story to the extent you feel comfortable. When it comes to the theme, The Woman I Am, you are an embodiment of an answered prayer.” Vivian continued, sharing in more depth how she'd like Hope to contribute to the conference. “Do you and Cy have plans for the fourth?” she'd asked, when finished.

“We've talked about going to LA,” Hope answered. “With the holiday falling on a Tuesday, I'd like to get into town that Saturday, hopefully spend time with Frieda and Stacy, attend church on Sunday, and then play both Monday and Tuesday by ear.”

“Perfect! Then I can go ahead and pencil in you two to attend the barbecue we're planning. Very casual, and the only thing you need to bring is yourselves.”

“That sounds great, Viv. I'll run it by Cy and confirm later this week.”

“And if Frieda and Stacy want to join us, either with their husbands or alone, they too are welcome.”

“I'll be speaking with both of them this week if not later today, and will let them know.”

“It'll be good to see everyone again.”

“I agree, Vivian. See you soon.”

H
ope finished checking her e-mails and, instead of balancing the household checkbook as she'd planned, then looked up the foundation scripture to the upcoming conference. It was an interesting one, taken from the third chapter of Exodus when God commanded Moses to go before Pharaoh and demand that the children of Israel be let go. When Moses had asked God what his name was, and who should he say had sent him, God answered, “I Am that I Am.” He told Moses to say that I Am had sent him. Vivian had told Hope to study the Hebrew word for this passage. She'd been the one to suggest that Hope purchase a Hebrew-Greek Bible. It had been the best study guide Hope could have imagined, had helped her deepen her understanding of the scriptures and in doing so, to strengthen her relationship with God.

“Hayah.”
Hope practiced the Hebrew word on her tongue as she read its literal meaning: to breathe. Immediately she began to get excited.
God was her very breath?
She continued reading aloud, literally feeling the Spirit as she did so. “This verb means to exist, to become, to come to pass, to happen, to be finished.” She stopped, pondering that definition. It came to her that what God had spoken was already done, that the end was known from the beginning. She also felt that God was saying that whatever Moses needed God was, and by default, since humans were made in the image and likeness of God, that whatever people desired was inherently already inside them. The revelation sat Hope back in her chair. Could that be true? Could the power to realize all of her desires have existed inside her all along? If so, why had it taken so long for it to happen, for her to meet Cy and have children? And what about all of the single women out there, good women who wanted marriage and motherhood, yet found it so difficult to find the right man? As more questions than answers came to her, she kept reading. “The key meaning to Jehovah/Yahweh is found in this word. I Am that I Am means I Am He who exists: timeless, ever-present.” Fingers drummed against the mahogany table as she thought on these words, asking God what she should say at the conference, how she could use these words and her life to encourage someone who was in the shoes she'd occupied for a long period of her life. “Help me, Jesus,” she murmured, rising from the table and stretching long and hard. She looked at her clock, knowing that the kids would be coming back soon. It was also workout day, one of three times a week that Yvette came through to torture her into retaining the lean, tight body that Cy loved.

Just enough time left to try and catch my girls.
Reaching for her phone, she walked from the kitchen area toward the great room, to the covered patio beyond it. It was a favorite hangout place for Hope, a smartly appointed area anchored by an outdoor kitchen on one side and an infinity pool on the other. Beyond it was the expertly maintained garden from which Hope filled the house with flowers: hydrangeas, orchids, lilies. Also growing were large bird-of-paradise plants that she admired but refused to cut. Beyond the garden was what drove up the property's value—an unobstructed view of the Pacific Ocean. She and Cy had spent many amorous evenings on this patio. Her cootchie tingled just thinking about them, so she forced away these thoughts as Stacy picked up on the other end of the phone.

“Hey, Hope.”

“Hey, girl. What's wrong?”

“Nothing. What's up?”

“Uh-uh. That's not how we do things. I'm your girl, Stace. Talk to me.”

It was true. Hope and Stacy had become fast friends after Hope relocated to Los Angeles from Kansas City. Stacy admired her lifestyle, especially the fact that she'd snagged KCCC's most eligible bachelor, right out of Millicent Kirtz's—then Millicent Sims—crosshairs. Hope later found out it hadn't been quite that way, that while Cy had dated Millicent a couple times they'd never been intimate. At any rate, Hope truly appreciated Stacy's friendship, the only woman she conversed with other than her cousin, Frieda. Hope had been Stacy's confidante regarding her obsession, Darius Crenshaw. She was the first to know that Stacy was pregnant with his child, the first to whom Stacy finally admitted the truth that he was gay, and the one who helped her pick up the pieces when Darius, who'd finally married Stacy following the birth of their son, then had their marriage annulled to be with his true love, Bo Jenkins. On the other hand, Stacy had been a much-needed sympathetic ear during Hope's attempts to have children, had been her cheerleader when Hope began to lose the essence of her name. She'd helped pull Hope back from the brink when she'd become obsessed with the fact that Millicent had had a child before she did, and then was convinced that Millicent was after Cy. Her paranoia had resulted in her racing to a hotel where Cy was meeting with Jack Kirtz and a contractor about the surprise dream home where she now sat. Unfortunately for Millicent, when her husband knew he'd be delayed for the meeting, she offered to bring the plans and get things started. Hope found Cy and Millicent alone in the room and had held a San Diego tea party, tossing a pitcher of the cool drink in Millicent's face. Stacy and Hope had been through their share of drama and if there was some more brewing, they'd face it together.

“What's going on, Stacy?” Hope prompted her friend to open up about what was bothering her. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I'm worried about Tony.”

“Still no takers?”

“No, and that's the problem. No team has shown interest in picking him up for the upcoming season. Tony is not dealing well with the fact that his career may be over.”

“That's got to be rough.”

“It is. I've talked to some of the other wives whose husbands have retired. Things can get tough. Some men get depressed and withdrawn, others have divorced their wives, left their families.”

Hope swallowed her nervousness, forced herself to sound calm. “Are you worried that Tony will do that? Leave you and DJ?” She'd liked Tony Johnson from the moment she met him, and in hopes of helping Stacy move on from Darius, had encouraged her to date the strapping football star. Tony was a big, solid guy, over two hundred pounds of muscle and bone.

“If you'd asked me that six months ago, I would have said no way. But he's changing, Hope, becoming more distant and moody, just like what some of the wives said would happen. It's like nothing I say is the right thing. If I share my optimism that he'll get picked up, he tells me I don't know anything about the business of football. Which is right, I don't. If I tell him that he has a great future postplaying, remind him how various stations have shown interest in him doing game analysis or even hosting his own show, he gets angry and quiet. Tony likes to live large, so I know he's also concerned about our finances. I don't mind it, but I don't think my husband will want to change our lifestyle, a necessity once the big checks stop coming in. I want him to talk to Pastor Derrick, but I'm afraid it will make Tony too angry if it's suggested he get counseling, that
we
get counseling. But I hate to see him in pain, Hope. I hate to see the man I married becoming someone else.”

“I'm so sorry, Stacy. Tony is a good guy. I can't help but think that y'all will get through this challenging time.” Hope was quiet, her mind racing with possible ways to help her dear friend. “Do you think it would be too obvious if Cy called him? If I talk to him, I think he'd be open to helping Tony break into real estate. He's always looking for partners he can trust.”

“Thank you, Hope. I don't think Tony is open right now, but that's a possibility to keep in mind.”

“Well, maybe Cy can put it on his mind.” Hope told Stacy about her convo with Vivian, the upcoming Sanctity of Sisterhood minisummit and her open invitation to their Fourth of July bash.

“Oh my God, girl, that would be perfect! It's just what Tony needs to get his mind off the game, and what is or isn't happening. Please thank Vivian for me and let her know that if at all possible, Tony and I will be there.”

“I can send you guys plane tickets if it'll help; tell Tony that it's an early anniversary present.”

“Let me talk to him. That man is so proud. If he smells anything close to charity, he'll not only clam up, but he'll know we've talked. So don't say or do anything unless I say so.”

“Okay. I'm praying for you, sistah.”

“Thanks, Hope. I need it.”

“I've got you. If you and Tony come up the weekend before the fourth, we can hang out at Frieda's and do some serious shopping.” Belatedly, Hope realized that suggesting they spend money might not be the best idea. “My treat.”

“Tony's home, I'll talk to you later.”

“Okay, Stacy, keep me posted. You know I'll worry about you. Take good care.”