The Eleventh Commandment (9 page)

“Y
ou were an early bird this morning.” Hope placed a glass of orange juice and two superfood pills in front of her husband, who was seated at the breakfast nook. It was seven-thirty in the morning, more than an hour since Cy had read Trisha's latest e-mail, and mere minutes since Hope had washed her face, brushed her teeth, and come downstairs to prepare breakfast for her husband.

“Yes. I didn't want to wake you so instead of tossing and turning, I decided to just get up.”

Hope's hand hovered for just a moment above the French toast that she was about to flip. She took a breath, flipped the thick French bread awash in whipped eggs seasoned with sea salt, raw sugar, and cinnamon, and lowered the heat before she turned around to get a look at the reason for her breathing. “What's on your mind, babe?”

Cy finished drinking the orange juice Hope had given him. “I talked to Trisha yesterday.”

“Oh?” The marital counseling sessions she'd had with First Lady Vivian Montgomery before her marriage, and the conversations they'd recently shared, caused her to absorb this news without so much as a flinch.
Always assume the best about your husband.
That's what Vivian had told her. And that's what she'd do. “How'd that come about?”

“I responded to the e-mail she sent me and she responded with her phone number.”

Hope lifted the French toast from the cast iron skillet that had been a wedding gift from her mother, added several links of organic veggie sausages, and walked the plate over to where Cy sat. “I remember you saying that you two were pretty serious in college,” she said, her voice light and airy as she placed a single piece of toast on her plate, along with a couple links of sausage. After getting the maple syrup from the microwave she joined her husband at the table and said, “I'm sure that that was an interesting conversation.”

“It was.” Cy spread butter on his toast, added a liberal amount of syrup, and after slicing it into uniform cubes, took a bite. “This is delicious, baby.”

Hope dressed her plate as well, but instead of reaching for her fork, picked up her orange juice and leaned back in the booth. “What did she say? Why is she contacting you after all these years?”

Cy gave Hope the condensed version of his conversation with Trisha.

“So she's never married, has no children, and admits that she still loves you. I'm finding it hard to see the positive angle of her desire to reconnect.” She picked up her fork, cut off a generous piece of French toast, and enjoyed the bite. “Um, this
is
good.”

“I'm baffled too, not only because it was Jeannetta who told her how to contact me, but because I thought this was all about the reunion. But now, I just don't know.”

“So what are you going to do, baby?”

Cy devoured a sausage link. “She wants me to call her the next time I'm in New York.”

“Where she lives, right?” Cy nodded. “And if I remember correctly, your next trip there is scheduled for shortly after the Fourth of July.”

“The following week.”

Hope took a couple more bites. “Are you going to meet with her?”

“It depends on whether or not you have a problem with that.”

Hope finished the food that was on her plate and downed the juice in her glass. “I guess a brief meeting in a public place, with no physical contact, for old time's sake, would be okay.”

“Dang, baby. I can't hug a person I haven't seen for years?”

Hope thought for a moment. “I guess a very brief church hug would be okay.”

Cy smiled. He knew what kind of hug Hope was talking about—where the upper bodies touched but the lower half was at least a foot apart.

“I wouldn't want to come off as a possessive, jealous female who doesn't trust her man.”

“I appreciate that, baby. Like I said, I'm curious about what she could want after all these years.”

“Well,” Hope said dryly as she reached for his plate, then got up from the table and walked over to the sink, “with all the effort she's put into finding you, I'm sure that she'll tell you.”

The rest of their conversation was aborted as Rosie brought down the twins, who enjoyed the French toast and sausage as much as their parents. Afterward, Cy left for LA and Hope spent a couple hours with the children before Rosie's Spanish lessons and time at the park. After Yvette arrived and put Hope through a rigorous workout, Hope watched an episode of
Conversations with Carla,
a popular television talk show hosted by Sanctity of Sisterhood member and former first lady Carla Chapman. Then she placed phone calls to both her parents. Pat, who was still glowing following her return to Oklahoma after a long weekend in La Jolla, and Earl, who much to his daughter's surprise and delight was touting the benefits of less meat and more leafy greens, a diet encouraged by his current wife. Just after she'd conferred with Rosie about the dinner preparations, she got a call from Vivian.

“Hello, Hope. I don't have much time, but I wanted to call and see if you'd had a chance to study the theme of the upcoming summit, and the scriptures I'd mentioned.”

“Sure have. I Am. Who knew those two small words could mean so much? I researched some of the foundation scriptures and will look at the rest of them when we return from LA. I also have an idea for a praise dance, using a song by Rickie Byars called “In the Land of I Am.”

Vivian instantly loved the idea, surprised that she herself hadn't thought of it. Hope had been involved in praise dancing from her youth and when she relocated to Los Angeles, had added this component to KCCC's worship arts. “Hmm, haven't heard it,” she replied.

“One of Cy's associates turned him on to her work some time ago. She's Reverend Michael Beckwith's wife.”

“Why does that name sound familiar?”

“He's the founder and pastor at Agape.”

“Of course—the one who was in
The Secret
.”

“Yes. His wife is a force to be reckoned with in her own right: minister, author, and amazing recording artist. They wrote this song together.”

“I love the idea of a praise dance, Hope, and I'd like to hear it.”

“It's on my iPod. I'll make sure and bring it when we come over.”

“So you and Cy are coming for sure? That's excellent.”

“Yes, we'll be there.”

“Telling me about Rickie's song reminds me of another song that came out years ago. It was on a CD produced by a ministry here in LA, Bam Crawford. The song is called “I Am the I Am.” Do you know it?”

“No, I don't think I've ever heard that.”

“We'll also give that one a listen when you come to town. I can't wait to see you.”

“I need, I mean, want to see you too.”

“Okay, Hope. What aren't you telling me?”

“Something that I'd rather discuss in person. I could use your counsel.”

“In that case, let's carve out some time when you and I can chat.”

“Sounds good. I miss being at KCCC every Sunday, Lady Viv. I'm looking forward to seeing you guys.”

“And I look forward to seeing you as well.”

After ending the call, Hope poured herself a glass of sparkling water and went out to the patio . . . her favorite place. She looked out over the Pacific Ocean, the beauty that surrounded a life that had exceeded her expectations. As she thought on the I Am, she counted many things that she was: happy, fulfilled, and madly in love being among them. And whatever it was that Trisha had on her mind, Hope didn't plan on giving up any of the things for which she was thankful.

“F
rieda!” Stacy walked into the private dining room of a Beverly Hills hotel, feeling more joy than she'd imagined she would at seeing an old friend. They met and hugged. “It's been too long, girl. How are you?”

“Girl, we need to order drinks before I answer that question,” Frieda quipped, sitting down and taking in Stacy's picture-perfect outfit but telltale face. A tale that wasn't picture perfect. “When did you guys get here?”

“Flew in last night.” Stacy sat down. “So what's going on, girl?”

“We might as well wait for Hope so we don't have to repeat the same stories twice.”

“I'm surprised that I beat her, especially since I know they drove up from La Jolla last night, too. She's usually the timely one.”

“That was before she had two crumb snatchers to lug around. Speaking of, how is your Junior?”

“Growing up too fast.” Stacy picked up the menu. “How is your Junior?”

“Three going on thirteen. He loves preschool and is already reading.”

“The kids these days come in on another level. DJ was reading by that time, too.”

“It's crazy how fast they learn . . . computers, video games. But life moves way faster than when we grew up. Kids these days have to be on top of their game.” Frieda took a sip of her cocktail. “What are you drinking?”

“I'll have what you're having.”

Stacy had just received her banana split martini when Hope came through the double doors. “It's my girls!” Both Frieda and Stacy stood so that they could all get in good hugs. Hope sat down on one of the remaining empty seats. “Sorry I'm late. Had to get Rosie and the kids settled in the condo.”

“Where's Cy?”

“Went over to Kingdom Citizens Christian Center to meet with Pastor Derrick.” Hope squeezed both of her friend's forearms. “It's been way too long since we've done this, all three of us together.”

“You're right about that,” Stacy readily agreed. “Oh, and thanks, Hope, for the offer to purchase our plane tickets. You know Tony, though. Not only did he not go for it, but he had to use some of our dwindling bank account to book us in first class.” She shook her head. “I must say that the timing for the trip is perfect, though. Tony is using the extra time to work with a friend of his who is also a personal trainer, doing some last-minute tweaking before his tryouts coming up. He's so excited to try out for the Sea Lions; I just hope he isn't setting himself up for disappointment.”

“His knee is totally healed, right?” Hope asked.

Stacy nodded. “Yes, he's been back to his full workout for a while now.”

“Tony's one helluva defensive end,” Frieda offered. “I think any team would be lucky to have him.”

“I agree,” Hope said, signaling the waiter to bring over another martini. “It would be wonderful having you back in our neck of the woods.”

The small talk continued until the waiter delivered Hope's drink, and they placed their orders. Then in typical bump-the-bullshit fashion, Frieda shifted the conversation from possible vacation locations to more dramatic situations. “Stacy, what are y'all going to do if Tony doesn't get picked up?”

Stacy's voice dropped and her eyes became sad. “I don't know. His agent lined up sportscaster interviews, but Tony isn't ready to think about life beyond football. It's making things tough at home.”

Frieda's brows creased. “How tough? He isn't violent, is he?”

“No, Frieda! Why would you say that?” Even as she responded with indignation, the image of his menacing frame recently standing over her flashed into her mind.

“I hung out with a player for a hot minute and became friends with his best friend's girlfriend. She used to get beat on the regular. Finally left him. The paper he threw her way wasn't worth the punches he also threw.”

When Stacy continued to remain silent, Hope continued probing. It wasn't simple nosiness. She was the one who'd encouraged Stacy to date Tony, hoping that by doing so she'd get over Darius. Now Hope prayed that she hadn't sent her friend from the frying pan into the fire. “So things are still tense on the home front?”

“Yes. I'm trying to be the understanding wife, but every time I attempt to offer a positive perspective, it backfires.” Stacy shrugged. “I don't know how to help him.”

“Maybe he can talk to Pastor while he's here.”

“That's a good idea, Hope. But I'll have to find a roundabout way to make it happen. Tony isn't too keen on anybody thinking something is wrong with him right about now. To hear him tell it, his present situation is everyone's fault but his.”

“If you'd like, I can talk to Lady Viv, or have Cy mention it to Pastor.”

“Yes, please do that. Having Pastor Derrick talk to him will probably help some, but the only thing that will bring my old Tony back is him being back on the playing field.”

After a thoughtful silence while the ladies processed this news, Stacy said, “Speaking of playing the field, Frieda, what's going on with you that had you dodging a three-way?”

“What?”

“Don't ‘what' me. Hope pulled me into a three-way and when she clicked back over to reach you, there was only dead air.” When Frieda acted as though she didn't get the meaning, Stacy spoke straight out. “You'd hung up.”

“Yes, Frieda,” Hope added. “I'd like to know more about that too.”

The waiter delivered their salads and Frieda waited until he'd left to address Stacy's and Hope's comments. “I already told you, Hope,” she said, taking the double helping of balsamic vinaigrette dressing that she'd asked be served on the side and pouring it over her organic micro greens. She looked at Stacy. “I have a new boo.”

Stacy stopped in midreach of the container filled with honey-mustard dressing on the side of her plate. “You're having an affair?”

“Girl, you might call it an affair; I call it an alternative. I've been faithful to Gabriel since we got married and believe me, it hasn't been easy. He works almost around the clock and when he comes home, nonstop effing isn't what he has in mind. I love my child's father, but the doctor is boring with a capital B.”

“Cousin, that's no excuse to commit adultery.”

“Hmph. Christians commit adultery. Heathens like me just fuck.”

“Frieda!”

“Ha! I'm messing with you, Hope. I knew that would get you going. I didn't go looking for Clark. It just happened. But the way I look at it, my man on the side may be the very thing that helps me stay married.”

Hope wanted to shake sense into her cousin's foolhardy head. But she forced herself not to lecture. She'd done that too many times and knew that, for the most part, any advice she gave her cousin went in one ear and out the other.

Stacy finished her bite of salad. “Where'd you meet him?”

“He's my nanny's son.”

“What?” The one-word question was in stereo.

“Cordella called him one day to bring something over to her. And, baby, I took one look at that six-foot-three-inch collection of muscle and bone and became interested in one bone in particular. Something about his swagger said that brothah was packing.” She pointedly looked at Hope and then Stacy. “Why are you y'all looking at me crazy? He is!”

“You've got a good thing going, Frieda,” Stacy said. “A good man. Do you want to throw it all away for good sex?”

Frieda finished her salad and pushed away the plate. She didn't answer.

Stacy's voice was filled with concern. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Don't worry. Gabriel is too busy working to know what I do.” After the waiter had delivered their entrées, Frieda turned to Hope. “What about you, cousin? What's going on in your picture-perfect, Cinderella world?”

Hope shook her head as she finished the bite of grilled tenderloin on toasted foccacia bread. “I'm not perfect, Frieda; and neither is my world.”

“So what's up?”

“Cy got a blast from his college days past.”

“Let me guess,” Stacy said. “A female.”

“Not just any female; his first love.”

Frieda was immediately indignant. “What in the hell does she want?”

“We don't know, but we'll soon find out. She lives in New York and Cy will more than likely meet her when he goes there next week.”

Frieda crossed her arms. “Are you crazy?”

“Hope, I've got to go with Frieda on this one. Stirring the coals of an old flame is never a good idea.”

“Believe me, I'm not too thrilled about it, but at the same time I have to trust my husband.”

“Yes, but do you trust her?” Frieda finally picked up her fork and began eating her baked salmon. “You know how scandalous we can be. Cy had better be on guard at
all
times.”

After that cryptic warning, the conversation moved on to less stressful topics including plans for a play date after church the following day so that their children could better get to know each other. Because of dinner plans with her brothers and mom, Stacy declined Frieda's invite to meet later on at her house. Hope gave a tentative acceptance, as long as Cy hadn't already committed them to something else.

With tentative activities outlined, the ladies soon wrapped up lunch and went their separate ways. Before long, they would learn that they were not the only ones making plans.