Truth Be Told (18 page)

Seconds ticked before Pilar said, “Maybe we should wait until after the test.”

Her words felt like punishment. “If you think that's best.”

“When are you coming to New York?”

“Within the next few days, but if I can't meet Solomon, we can do the test through the mail.”

“Come to New York.”

He didn't dare ask if those words were a change of mind.

“I'll call you when I've made the plans.”

She hung up, and although that had become their way, he felt her fury.

Grace didn't know what was worse—thinking that Beth had found out about Solomon or spending thirty minutes trying to explain Christian values to someone who didn't believe.

In the car, she closed her eyes, trying to discover that calm place, but she couldn't find it. She had to talk to Conner. Convince him to take the paternity test.

The cell phone rang, and Grace looked at the Caller ID. She closed the privacy window in the car.

“How did the interview go?” Conner asked.

“You don't want to know.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, then paused. “I really wanted to finish what we started last night.”

She wanted to make peace. “Maybe we can go out to dinner.”

“I've decided to go to New York.” He spoke over her words.

Her chest tightened, and she breathed to draw air into her lungs. “Why? You don't even know if Solomon is your son.”

“I know that he is, Grace.” He sounded as weary as she felt. “But I will take the test. We can expedite everything if we're in New York.”

She exhaled, but it was just partial relief. “You can do the DNA test from anywhere, Conner.”

“I know, but while we're there, we can meet Solomon.”

“You're going to walk into this boy's life and then just walk away if he's not your son? That's not fair.”

The crackle of dead air came through the phone. “We're not telling him anything. Pilar will introduce us as friends.”

She couldn't imagine being any kind of friend to Pilar. “I think we should wait. These tests don't take long.”

“Two weeks. The DNA Diagnostic Center in New York can do it. It'll cost five hundred dollars.”

She closed her eyes, waiting for his next words.

“I want you to go to New York with me.”

“This is not how we should do this,” she said with her eyes still shut.

“I'm getting the test for you. You should go to New York with me.”

She felt like one of his clients—being pressured into a settlement. “I can't do this right now.” She pressed the End button before he could respond, then turned off the phone.

She glanced through the tinted windows as her car rolled past Sunset Boulevard. She was in the middle of Hollywood. But there was not a movie that could rival the drama unfolding in her life.

There was a quick knock on his door, and Chandler came in just as Conner dropped the phone into the cradle.

“You've been behind closed doors all morning.” Chandler sat in front of his brother's desk. “Thought I'd check on you.”

Conner shook his head. “It's not going well.”

“Well, I've briefed Monica on the Jacoby case. She'll take over for you.”

“I don't want to dump my work on anyone.”

“Don't worry. I've got your back. Like you had mine when Devry and I spent all that time in fertility clinics.” Chandler leaned across the desk. “You need to concentrate on home.”

“I don't know what to do. Grace and I were making progress, but now …”

“Give her time. She's hurt. It's not always easy to do what you know. Sometimes it's easier to just go with what you feel.”

Conner turned toward the window. “Grace wants me to have a paternity test.” He shook his head as if he still couldn't believe her request.

“Of course, you should have one.”

Conner turned toward his brother so fast he almost lost his balance. “I don't need a test.”

“What are you talking about, bro? In today's times …”

“I told you, I saw him.”

“I understand, but you can't turn your life upside down based on one less-than-five-minutes meeting. You need the medical evidence.”

He began to speak, then stopped and slipped into his chair. “I don't need any more time, Chandler. I know in my bones that he's mine.” There was a smile in his tone but not on his face.

“Then a test will prove you right. And when the proof is in, it'll be easier for Grace.”

He nodded. “That's why I'm doing it.” When Chandler stood, Conner said, “Solomon is my son.”

Chandler smiled. “If that's what you want, bro, I hope that's what you get. But most of all, I pray that God's will is done.”

Chandler turned and left the office before he saw the doubt cross his brother's face.

E
ach of the fourteen conference room chairs was filled. Starlight stood at the round mahogany table with her arms spread as if she were about to lead a symphony. Her caftan was a shade lighter than the lavender walls, and the full sleeves fluttered as she spoke.

“Your duties are outlined in this manual.”

The “Light Girls”—Starlight's assistants—flipped through the eighteen-page booklet she'd prepared.

“Each of the three hundred women must feel we are addressing their every need.”

“Three hundred?” Marta, one of the Light Girls, seemed stunned. “How did you find all those people?” Her Jamaican accent was thicker with her surprise.

“L.A. is the land of self-improvement,” Lexington said, oblivious to Starlight's frown. “Any seminar will draw with the right marketing.”

Starlight's frown deepened. She never gave explanations. Especially not to Marta, who was too interested in the financial side of Starlight Enterprises. Starlight made a mental note. After this conference, Marta would be standing in the unemployment line.

Starlight said, “We're going to do run-throughs every day until the conference.”

“Why so much practice?” The question came from a new hire.

Starlight strained to remember her name. One strike, she thought. “I'll explain … this time.” She sat in her chair, which, with its high back, was much larger than the other seats. “People must leave this conference raving.”

“Because we want to do one every quarter,” Lexington offered.

Starlight could see it in their eyes—their inner calculators computing. “Any other questions?” she asked quickly. She frowned as Marta and the new hire exchanged glances, but all remained silent. She motioned for them to stand. Starlight placed her palms together and bowed. “May the light forever be with you and yours.”

The women and Lexington followed. “And you as well.”

The Light Girls filed from the room, although Marta lingered for a few seconds.

Once alone, Lexington said, “You seem upset. Whaz up?”

She hated when he spoke that way. It was not the language of the enlightened, and she couldn't afford him slipping at a seminar.

But she had another issue now. “Watch what you say in front of the girls.”

Lexington shrugged. “They're harmless. They're stupid.”

“Not Marta. In fact, get rid of her right after the conference.” His eyes questioned her. “She's too curious.”

“Okay. I'll catch her in something.”

His words were spoken from the memory of being dragged by a former employee to the Department of Labor. They'd settled, eager to avoid government scrutiny. Since then, every employee had been terminated for cause—money missing from their stations, pornographic Web sites on their computers, anything that a suddenly unemployed person would not want on the record.

“Make sure Marta's setup is good.” She opened the manila folder on her desk. “Now tell me about the rest of the conference.”

“Our products could bring in another fifty thousand dollars.”

Starlight smiled.

“First, there's the Bless-ed Water. Sales premise: Use a dab every day to continue in the light. It will wash away negative traces of your past, freeing you from pain, disappointments, and the heartache of relationships with men that you need to cleanse from your soul.”

“Are we going to buy bottled water?”

He looked at her as if she were stupid. “No. We'll fill bottles with tap water.”

Starlight's eyes widened. “Where are we going to get all of those bottles, and who is going to fill them?” She shook her head. “I don't want the Light Girls involved.”

He leaned across the table and rubbed her hand. “You should know that we think alike.”

No, we don't,
she thought, but she smiled.

He leaned back as if he were about to reveal a million-dollar plan. “The bottles will come from a recycling center. On Saturday, I'll pick up a few men outside Home Depot. I'll take them to the hotel, give them the bottles in the bathroom, and tell them, ‘Fill 'er up.'” He chuckled.

Starlight laughed, imagining the sight. “Make sure the bottles are filled with water and nothing more.”

He buckled with more laughter. “We'll sell close to five hundred. Some will buy two and three bottles. At twenty-five dollars a pop, that's good money.”

Starlight's laughter stopped. “That's a bit pricey for water.”

“It's Bless-ed Water.” His smile covered his entire face. “We'll sell out. And if we don't, we'll save the bottles for the Revival.” He looked down at his notes. “Next are the Anointed Cloths. The ninety-nine-cents store has packages of ten handkerchiefs. It'll cost thirty dollars for three hundred. But we can sell Anointed Cloths for fifteen, even twenty dollars apiece.”

Starlight's legs began to shake as she calculated it all in her head.

Lexington continued, explaining the rest: enemas to cleanse the deep pain held within, bath salts to pull out the soul's impurities, Anointed Keys to serve as visual reminders for the future. When he finished, he clasped his hands behind his head and smiled as if he'd just presented her with that million-dollar check.

Starlight squeezed her legs together to stop their trembling and noticed another sensation. Her thoughts turned from the money. She sauntered to the door and locked it. Then she turned to Lexington.

She began with her scarf, letting it glide across his face before it wilted to the floor. Then she unzipped her top. In less than a minute, she stood naked except for her purple pumps.

Lexington's eyes consumed her.

She stood taller, proud that she was fit and looked as good as any twenty-year-old … almost.

“Here?” The question quivered through his lips.

Starlight tugged at his tie. “Don't you think you deserve a reward?”

“Yes.” He stood, his eyes never leaving her. He unfastened his belt and dropped his pants to his ankles.

Starlight shook her head. “I want you naked, exposed, like me.” She pressed into his chest, and he moaned. She stepped back. Not yet.

He stumbled out of his clothes. When he was nude, she put her hands together and bowed. “May the light forever be with you and yours.”

“I'm about to give you some light.” He laid her on the conference table.

It felt hard, cold, and wonderful as Starlight thought about the women outside the door. When Lexington lay on top of her, she thought about all he'd told her. When he moaned as if he'd found paradise, she asked herself if there was any difference between money, power, and sex. When she answered that question, the room filled with her own cries of ecstasy.

Minutes passed before Lexington freed her from his weight. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

She didn't have to hide her annoyance at his Comic View line. Today, it didn't bother her. “Lexi, baby,” she said as she cupped her palm against his face. “It was as good as it gets.”

G
race pressed her ear against the bedroom door. She heard nothing, but she knew Conner could be reading or just laying in wait.

She paced, her steps silenced in the carpet. Her plan had worked until now. First, motherly duties kept her occupied from the moment Conner came home. She saw his frustrated frowns, but once the girls went to their bedrooms, she pretended that city council responsibilities demanded her time. She'd stayed in the office with the cordless phone in her lap in case Conner walked in.

Now she stood, ready to sleep. Not only did the clock in the foyer chime twelve times a few minutes ago, but the ache that smoked through her bones convinced her she was too tired to continue tonight's charade.

She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. “God, please, I don't want to go into anything with Conner tonight. I promise, Lord, I will handle this … soon. Just make sure that Conner's asleep.”

“Mom?” Her eyes snapped open as Jayde walked toward her. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I was … praying. What are you doing up?”

“I woke up and thought I heard something. When I looked in the hall, I thought you were sick.”

Grace wrapped her arms around Jayde. “I'm fine,” she whispered as she walked her back to her room. “Go back to bed.”

Jayde's eyes remained on her mother until there was just a crack in the door.

Grace inhaled and headed back to her bedroom. In minutes, Jayde would be checking again. She turned the door knob and tiptoed inside. Only the glow from her nightstand lamp lit the room. Conner lay on his stomach, his head turned away. She stood unmoving, then breathed when she realized he was asleep.

She slipped into her closet, changed, then waited. When she heard just the rhythm of Conner's sleep breathing, she crept across the room. Grace pulled back the covers, and stared at the two envelopes, right below her pillow.

She picked up the papers, then sat on the bed's edge turning the airline tickets over in her hands.

“I want you with me.” Conner's words floated over her shoulder.

She closed her eyes and wondered why God hadn't answered her prayer.

“I want you by my side when I truly meet my son.”

She pulled a ticket from one envelope. “Conner.” She faced him. “You want to leave on Wednesday? In just two days?”

He nodded.

“This is too fast.”

He sat up. “Time's not on our side.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Even if he is your son, we still have a lot to work out.”

“Nothing has to stop us from meeting Solomon.”

“I'm thinking about Solomon.” She took Conner's hand and said a silent prayer that the Lord would soften her words. “This is overwhelming to us, Conner. How can we expect a young boy to handle it? Do we want to invade his life this way?”

Conner frowned.

She continued, “Even if you are Solomon's father, by meeting us, we may be complicating things.” She looked away. “It may make it harder for … the people who Solomon will have to live with.”

Grace was sure that minutes passed.

Conner sat up straighter. “If he's my son, he's going to live with us.”

His words pulled air from Grace's lungs.

“We don't have a choice, Grace. No one in Pilar's family wants Solomon.”

Grace frowned. What was wrong with the boy?

“Pilar's family doesn't want anything to do with a grandson, or a nephew, or a cousin who's black.”

Surprise kept her silent.

“Grace, in a few months, Solomon won't have a home unless we give him one.”

His words made her wonder. Was that why he didn't want to take the test? Was he already Solomon's father, no matter what the DNA results said?

Grace wasn't sure whether the tears that stung her eyes were for her or for Solomon. She didn't resist when Conner pulled her into his arms.

“We can do this.”

Grace lay still as he held her.

“It's going to take a lot,” Conner began, “but this will turn out fine. I promise.”

The water that burned her eyes dripped onto Conner's arm. He turned her, making her face him and began kissing away her pain.

Sobs gave sound to her silent tears.

His gentle kisses filled with urgency and she pulled him close, trying to make herself one with him. She moved her lips to his, thrusting her tongue inside his mouth, demanding that he know her feelings.

Conner moaned; he understood.

Grace still cried.

She ripped his pajama shirt open, sending buttons flying across the room, then dug her fingers into his skin. She pressed against him, feeling his body stiffen with desire.

He wanted her.

Her tears flowed.

Conner's moans mixed with her cries filling the air with a mournful melody. With one hand, he edged Grace's T-shirt up as his other explored beneath. But when he tried to push the shirt over her head, she refused to release her lips from his, leaving the shirt bunched around her neck.

It didn't matter. It didn't stop her tears.

Conner whipped the comforter away from their bodies, then fought to break from her lips. When he freed himself, his eager tongue pleased every part of her.

Grace's eyes stung as she squeezed the lids together. She clutched the sheet beneath her. She couldn't tell the difference between the pleasure and the pain. It all fused inside and now fought to be released.

Grace rolled Conner onto his back and straddled him. He looked up at her, and his long fingers wiped her flowing tears. She looked down at him, letting her tears drip, watering the center of his chest.

When they joined, her blood felt like a thermometer's rising mercury.

The cries that escaped from her were beyond the moment. She collapsed onto her husband. Their uneven breathing and pounding hearts were the only sounds in the room.

It was then that Grace realized her tears had finally ceased.