Fortune & Fame: A Novel (27 page)

“Who you callin’ old? Do you know what I will do to you if I get up out of this bed? I’ll Django you all up in this place!”

“Come on, y’all,” Jasmine jumped in before Rachel could even make a comeback. “We just got this news and you want to fight?”

“So, what do you want to do?” Mae Frances asked. “Pray for her?”

“I’m not sayin’ all that. I’m just sayin’ . . .”

“That your problem is solved,” Rachel finished for her. “We don’t need to do anything with this information because I seriously doubt that your husband will leave you for a sick woman.”

“He was never going to leave me!”

“And not only that,” Rachel said, ignoring her, “Natasia probably won’t even be back on the show.”

“Wow!” Jasmine sank onto the bed. “Just like that, it’s over.”

“It’s not over yet,” Rachel said. “It’s just over for you.”

“I do feel sorry for her,” Jasmine said. “I bet that’s why Hosea said he wasn’t coming home this morning. I bet he went to the hospital.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Mae Frances asked.

Jasmine shook her head. “No, not now that I know what all of this was about. Hosea couldn’t tell me what was going on. He did the right thing then, and my husband will do the right thing now.” Jasmine sighed in relief. “It’s over.”

“Uh . . . excuse you.” Rachel sat up and folded her arms. “It’s not completely over. What about my situation? What about Mary?” When Jasmine looked at her blankly, Rachel said, “I helped you with Natasia, now you have to help me get rid of Mary and Nathan, ’cause I’m not giving them my son. So, what are we gonna do?”

Mae Frances sighed and threw her legs over the side of the bed. “Well, let me get up.”

Both Rachel and Jasmine turned their attention to Mae Frances.

“Really?” Jasmine asked. “You feel like you’re strong enough?”

“Yeah, and I have to be. ’Cause y’all need my help. The way you’re handling that Natasia girl . . . y’all have gone soft. And if you want to keep that baby, Rasheda,” she pointed to Rachel, “you need me to get up, take a shower, get dressed, eat some breakfast, then sit back and figure this out for you.”

“Okay.” Rachel grinned, not even bothering to correct Mae Frances. “How long before you’ll be ready to talk?”

“I’m gonna take my time,” Mae Frances said as she ambled toward the bathroom. “ ’Cause you know, genius cannot be rushed.”

E
ven in the darkness, Natasia could feel, Natasia could hear. She felt the impact of her fall, but had no strength to scream out. She heard the scream of the housekeeper, but her eyes wouldn’t open. And then she heard the voice of Rachel Jackson Adams.

She’d tried hard to wake up then. Wake up, get up and tell Rachel to get out of her apartment. She’d tried to come out of it, and that was when the darkness overtook her; she heard nothing, felt nothing, remembered nothing.

But now, once again in the darkness, she could hear, she could feel. And she felt the squeeze of her hand, over and over again. And a voice that sounded like it was a million light-years away.

“Natasia.”

Then, another squeeze, and the voice came closer.

“Natasia.”

More squeezes. The voice calling her name.

Her eyes fluttered open, but at first it felt like she was in a thick, white fog.

“Natasia.”

Slowly, she inched toward the light and when she blinked again, she saw him, standing over her.

Her angel. Hosea.

Was she in heaven?

“Natasia, can you hear me?”

She blinked again and saw the white walls. With just a little twist of her head, she could see the machine next to her and the catheter bag hanging from the bed’s railing.

“Natasia.”

She turned her head back to him and when he smiled, she tried to do the same thing.

“I’m . . . in the hospital,” she said through lips that felt so dry she could hardly part them.

He nodded, then reached over her and pressed the button. “I’m calling the nurse. The doctor told me that you would be waking up.”

“What happened?”

“You fainted last night. And then when you came to, they gave you something to sleep.”

“I don’t remember that part. I remember speaking to you on the phone.”

“This happened right after we talked?”

She closed her eyes and tried to remember. “I think so. I stood up. I was going to call Melinda . . . and that’s all I really remember.”

“Well, just rest. The doctor will be here in a little while.”

“Okay.” She took a couple of long, deep breaths. Closed her eyes. But she didn’t sleep. She tried to will strength back into her body. After a couple of minutes, she opened her eyes once again. Hosea was still standing by her bedside.

She licked her lips, blew out a breath, and asked, “How did you know . . . that I was here?”

“Apparently, you have me as your person to contact. . . .”

“. . . in case of emergency,” she finished. “I forgot. I hope it was okay.”

Before he could answer, the door swung open. “I hear there’s someone who’s awake in here,” the doctor said as he stepped inside the room. “Ms. Redding?”

She was glad to see the young Robert Redford again. She nodded.

He glanced down at the digital tablet in his hand. “How’re you feeling?”

She was laid up in a hospital bed; what did he think? But then, she wiggled her toes, shook her hands just a bit. And she really did feel fine. So, that’s what she told him.

“Well, I’m going to have the nurse come in and check your vitals, then I’ll be right back.”

As if on cue, the door opened again, and a woman in a pink flowered smock and pink pants entered.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” the doctor told her.

When Hosea told her the same thing, Natasia said, “No, you don’t have to leave.”

“I’ll be right outside,” he assured her.

Natasia nodded, then lay still as the nurse checked her pulse, her heart rate. She took her temperature, then checked her blood pressure.

And the whole time, Natasia tried to remember. She’d been feeling so good, thinking about Hosea, thinking that no matter how much time she had left, she knew for sure that he would be there for her—in every way that she hoped.

Those thoughts were the last ones she’d had.

“Why did I faint?” she asked the nurse.

“I’m just about finished, then the doctor will talk to you about all of that.”

A couple of minutes later, the doctor strolled in, followed by Hosea. As soon as they stood by her bedside, one on each side, she asked again, “Why did I faint?”

The doctor glanced at Hosea.

Natasia said, “You can tell me anything. You can talk in front of Hosea.”

The doctor took in a deep breath, then released it. “Well, we don’t know why you fainted. It could be a couple of things, from your medication to your blood pressure. Your blood pressure is high, it was high last night and it’s still a bit high. And we’re going to look at all your medication.” He paused. “But we did find out something . . .”

“My kidneys,” she whispered.

He nodded. “We’re going to do a test to measure your creatinine levels—”

“What does that mean?” Hosea asked before the doctor could finish.

And before the doctor could respond, Natasia said, “It means that I may need dialysis.”

They both looked at the doctor and he nodded. “You’ve done your research.”

She swallowed. “I have.”

“So, she’s going to need dialysis?” Hosea asked as if he was shocked.

“We still have another test to do, but it appears that her kidney function has dropped to below fifteen percent. And if that’s the case, yes. Definitely. Dialysis will save your life.”

“How often will she need this, doctor?” Hosea asked softly.

“There are many things we have to figure out, but it will probably be a couple of times a week.”

“Wow!”

“I’m going to get some of the tests ordered,” Dr. Ginsberg said. “I’ll be back.”

When they were alone, Hosea looked down at her and shook his head.

“Don’t do that,” she said. “I knew this was coming.”

“But so soon . . .”

“It’s not that soon; I’ve known for a year and because I didn’t have any symptoms, my kidneys were getting weaker for years before then.”

“So, what are you going to do? I know you can’t work now.”

“Who says?” She frowned. “Being on dialysis doesn’t mean that I’m going to be laid up in a hospital bed. Plenty of people have regular . . . well, maybe not so regular, but you know what I mean. Plenty of people have regular lives.”

“But if you don’t have to work, then why do it?”

“Because I
have
to work for my sanity. I don’t want to sit around, Hosea, and wait for this to happen.”

He nodded.

“Plus, I have to work for money, unless you’re going to take care of me.”

She’d said that only to make him smile. And he did. But then Hosea said, “If it comes down to that, I’ll take care of you.”

“Yeah, right.” Now, she laughed out loud, though she was so weak, it sounded like a giggle. “I’m sure your wife will be right there taking care of me, too.”

“You underestimate my wife.”

“No, just like a man, you do. But this is a non-discussion because I’m going to keep working.”

He nodded. “Okay, but what about living by yourself?”

“Well, unless you’re going to move in with me . . .”

Again, she was trying to make him smile, but this time, he didn’t. He just stared at her.

“What?” she said after a few uncomfortable moments.

He sat on the edge of her bed. “I want you to hear me out.”

“Uh-oh. I don’t think I’m gonna like this.”

“Natasia, you mean the world to me . . . as a friend. And I’m really concerned about you. Dialysis . . . this sounds serious.”

“It is.”

He nodded. “I don’t want you to go through this by yourself and I need you to really think about what’s going to happen now.”

She paused for a moment, closed her eyes, then after a few seconds, opened them. “Okay, I’ve thought about it. But what can I do, Hosea? I’m sick. All I can do is fight it.”

“You can let me do more.” He took her hands in his. “I may have a solution. We have a big house, and . . .” He stopped. “Let me think about this a little and pray about it a lot. We’ll talk later, okay?”

She nodded because she didn’t want to speak. If she opened her mouth, she would ask him what he was thinking, just like she’d wanted to do the other day.

But in her heart she knew it was best not to talk about his thoughts . . . not yet.

We have a big house.

Was he seriously considering moving her into his house? And if he did ask her, would she consider it?

“I have to get going,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’ll come back in a few hours.”

She nodded, and then closed her eyes when he kissed her forehead. She inhaled, wanting to savor the moment, then watched him as he stepped from the room.

Her eyes stayed on the door as she snuggled back into the bed, trying to get as comfortable as she could against the rough sheets.

There was so much that should be on her mind right now. Her kidneys were failing, her lupus was progressing . . . but all she wanted to think about was Hosea. If she had a chance of surviving, she would only survive because of him.

But truly, did he want her to live with him and his wife? Did she want to do that? No, not really. She wanted more of him, and that would never happen under his roof . . . would it?

She shook her head. None of this mattered because
Jasmine would never agree. There was no need to even think about it.

But then . . . she couldn’t let the thoughts go. If she did live with Hosea, she would have him for more hours than if she were not in his house. And Jasmine couldn’t watch her all the time. Maria Shriver was proof of that.

“Yeah,” Natasia whispered to herself. “Yeah.”

She lowered the bed until she was flat on her back again and she closed her eyes. There was so much going through her mind, and if Hosea had not been there, it would’ve all been so scary. But he was there, and now she could handle it.

She could handle it because of Hosea. The question now, though, was WWJD—what would Jasmine do?

S
he was hiding out in the bathroom. That seemed to be the place of refuge from the cameras, no matter where they were taping. (Well, except for that time Chauncey snuck in and secretly taped them.) But today, the bathroom here at the W Hotel was giving her little solace.

Mary wasn’t looking forward to today, and had even hoped taping would be canceled again, like Monday’s show had been. Mary had heard Natasia was in the hospital, so as far as Mary was concerned, they could cancel the taping all week. But they were moving forward, taping one of the final episodes—a dedication to Jacqueline’s Hope–Atlanta. Apparently, Jasmine had some national missing children’s foundation and she claimed that since they’d opened a church in Atlanta, it seemed only feasible that they open a chapter of Jacqueline’s Hope here as well. It was all probably a publicity stunt but Mary had been happy to take part nonetheless. Or at least, she
had
been happy.

Part of today’s dedication involved having all of their children present. Jasmine’s daughter and son, Jacqueline and Zaya, were already here. Alvin had come with her and Nathan, and
Mary had been bracing herself for Rachel’s children. For
her
son.

It would be her first time actually laying eyes on her baby, and Mary didn’t know how she would react. Frankly, she’d been surprised that Rachel would even allow it. But then she’d overheard Sonny telling someone that it would only be Rachel’s two older children taking part.

After hearing that, Mary had to duck into the bathroom to compose herself. All the excitement she’d felt was gone and she would’ve given anything to be able to leave. Even though it had been almost a week since that disastrous Women’s Day event, Mary still didn’t want to face Rachel. She’d only garnered the strength because of the chance to see her son. But now . . .