Too Little, Too Late (6 page)

J
ASMINE WAS BRILLIANT
.

At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. Her grin was spread all across her face as she rode up in the elevator.

It was an inspiring idea that had come to her in the middle of the night. So inspiring that for hours she’d lain awake, counting the minutes until morning.

Then at the day’s first light, she’d jumped from bed, even as Hosea reached for her. “Sorry, babe.” She scurried toward the bathroom. “I’ve got an early meeting.”

It was a lie, but just a little one. She did have a meeting—of sorts—with the woman who always rescued her.

“Jasmine Larson,” Mae Frances began the moment she swung open the door. “What’s got you all fired up?”

“I’ve figured out how to stop Natasia before she gets started.” Her voice was shaking with excitement.

“How?”

“I know how to end her games right here in New York. Make sure that she doesn’t even get on that plane to Los Angeles.”

“Would you stop babbling!”

“We’re sending Natasia to Africa!” Jasmine beamed.

Mae Frances frowned. As Jasmine paced, she explained.

“You’re gonna call Natasia, pretend you’re some president or prime minister or tribal chief or something, tell her that you’ve personally taken an interest in her case—because of all of her accomplishments—and then get her on a plane to Africa.” She spread her arms open wide. “I am brilliant.”

With her hands planted on her hips, Mae Frances looked at Jasmine as if she wondered when her brain had stopped working. “And she’s gonna get on a plane to Africa because…”

“Remember she wants to adopt a child? So here’s her chance.”

“Ah!” Slowly, Mae Frances began to nod.

Jasmine said, “She’ll buy a ticket, take a long, long flight, and while she’s in Africa, we’ll be in L.A.” She fell back onto the couch and laughed. “Won’t that be great?”

Mae Frances didn’t yet share her joy. “What’s going to happen when Natasia Redding gets off that plane in Zimbabwe or Kenya or wherever, and she realizes there’s no baby?”

“Not our problem. By the time she figures it out, the show would’ve hired another producer and Natasia will be stone-cold out of a job.” She kicked her feet in the air. “I am brilliant.”

Finally, Mae Frances smiled. “Yes, you are, Jasmine Larson.” She patted her hand. “I’ve taught you well.” She moved toward her desk. “Let me get working.” Pulling a black book from the drawer, she said, “While I would love to call Natasia Redding myself, this call has to come from Africa or else she won’t believe it.” She flipped through the pages.

“You have a connection in Africa?” Jasmine’s eyes were wide with admiration.

“No, but I know someone who can make the call
look
like it’s coming from Africa.” She waved her hand toward the door. “Get out of here. I don’t need no eyes watching while I’m taking care of business.”

Jasmine was almost skipping by the time she got to the lobby. She strolled down the street and then stopped in front of the shop where she used to pick up her morning coffee when she lived in this Upper East Side neighborhood. She glanced at the Lotto poster in the window: $325 million.

Why not?
she thought as she pushed open the door. Maybe she was more than brilliant. Maybe she was lucky, too.

H
OSEA STOOD AT THE WINDOW
in his father’s office and watched the water pour from the sky. He loved the rain, had for many years. It had started that night with Natasia…

On that day, he had peeked into Pastor Case’s office. “See you tomorrow,” he said to his boss, the head pastor of Crystal Lake Cathedral.

“Wait!” Pastor Case called before Hosea could take a step. “I’m doing a counseling session; can you sit in?”

Hosea glanced at his watch. Although he hadn’t taken time in the year that he’d been at this church to socialize, tonight he had a big date. In front of his television. Monday Night Football. The Bears versus the Giants. It didn’t get any better than that for a New Yorker living in Chicago.

Pastor Case asked, “Can you stay?”

“Sure.” He’d be home by the second quarter.

“Great.” The pastor motioned toward the sofa. “You know, my goal is to turn over these counseling responsibilities to you.”

“I’m ready,” Hosea said. “Who are you seeing tonight?”

The soft knock on the door stopped the pastor’s response. “Pastor Case?” Natasia peeked into the office. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re in a meeting.”

“No, come on in, Natasia. We’re ready.”

She moved with tentative steps, her umbrella dripping with rainwater. As she shook off her coat, she eyed Hosea and passed him a smile. “Hi, Minister Bush.”

Hosea nodded, his lips frozen with the rest of his face into a stiff smile.

In the weeks following their brunch over a year ago, the two had only exchanged a few pleasantries. And then shortly after, Hosea had heard the news—Natasia’s fiancé had died in a bungee-jumping accident. Time after time, he’d pulled out her card, wanting to offer his condolences, but it didn’t seem like their one encounter was enough to reach out that way.

Pastor Case said, “I hope you don’t mind, I asked Minister Bush to join us.”

“I guess it’s okay.” She looked from one man to the other.

“Just as an observer,” he added. “Minister Bush is going to be in charge of our counseling ministry.”

The look on her face made Hosea say, “Natasia, if you’d feel more comfortable with just Pastor Case…”

She held up her hand. “No, I’m fine.” She lowered herself onto the couch.

“So, how are you?” Pastor Case asked.

Hosea sat back. Kept his eyes trained on the pastor. But his glance kept shifting to the woman next to him. It was just jeans and a simple sweater that she wore. And her hair was tucked under a leather cap. But she was as elegant today as she’d been when she’d first taken his breath away.

“I feel really good,” Natasia said.

She spoke, but Hosea’s glance stayed on the pastor.

“I know grief is a spirit,” she continued, “and I’m determined to walk away from this place.”

Hosea tried to remember all that he’d learned in his Ministry and Ethics class.

“I think the thing that’s slowed me down a bit,” Natasia said, “is the way Doug died.”

Hosea wanted to close his eyes. But not even that would keep her image away.
I’m not supposed to be thinking like this
. But it was difficult to remember that he was a minister when she sat so close. She was clearly a woman. Who reminded him that he was a man.

The minutes crept by. Pastor Case questioned. Natasia responded. And Hosea sweated, his eyes on the clock.

Finally, “Well, we can call it an evening,” Pastor Case said. He’d barely spoken those words before the telephone rang.

As the pastor rushed to answer, Natasia stood. She glanced at Hosea, bit the corner of her lip. Smiled, then turned away. He smiled back, and turned his attention to his hands.

She whispered, “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room.”

He watched her dash from the room. Only then did he exhale. Maybe counseling wasn’t for him. Or maybe it was just counseling Natasia that was the problem.

“Oh, boy,” Pastor Case said as he rushed toward his closet. “This rain has caused havoc on my roof. It’s leaking.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Nope.” He grabbed his coat. “Where’s Natasia?”

“In the ladies’ room.”

“Would you mind seeing that she gets to her car and then locking up here?”

“Sure, Pastor.”

“Okay, son. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Hosea waited, paced, and reminded himself that he was the minister.

“Where’s Pastor Case?”

She’d been gone for just minutes, but Hosea marveled at how much more beautiful she seemed. She’d done nothing—just looked better with the passing of time.

“Pastor had an emergency at home.”

“Oh.” It was a long stare that she gave him. Then, like before, she turned away. She slipped into her coat, and said, “Looks like it’s still coming down out there.”

“Yeah; are you okay driving?”

She nodded. “I’m from Chicago. I’ve driven in much worse than this. Plus, I actually love the rain. To me, it’s God’s way of just washing us up a little.”

He grinned. “I’ll never look at the rain the same way again.”

She grabbed her umbrella. He clicked off the lights and followed her out. At the door, they stood together, watching the rain pummel the earth.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll hold the umbrella and we’ll make this dash. Got your keys ready?”

She patted her coat pockets. Frowned, then dug inside her purse. “I can’t find my keys.” After more moments, “Maybe I left them in the car.”

“Okay, let’s check.” Hosea held the umbrella as they darted through puddles to her Volvo. He tested the doors—locked. She checked the windows—closed. They peered inside—no sign of keys. Without a word, they raced back into the church.

“I can’t believe this!” Natasia exclaimed, shaking the water off.

“They’ve got to be here somewhere. I’ll check Pastor’s office. You check the ladies’ room.”

Within minutes she was back, searching through her coat pockets and purse again. “This is ridiculous.” She released a long breath of frustration. Then her eyes widened. “Maybe Pastor Case picked up my keys.” She nodded. “Yes, I dropped them on his desk when I was taking off my coat. He probably picked them up by accident.”

Hosea looked at her.
Maybe.
“Okay, so I’ll give you a lift.”

She hesitated. “I don’t want to leave my car here. I have a meeting in the morning downtown.”

Hosea moved toward the phone. “Then I’ll call Pastor Case.”

She stopped him. “You said he had an emergency; I don’t want to bother him.” She grabbed her PDA. “I’ve done this before, so I know my auto club has a master key. Would you mind if we waited for them?”

As Natasia made the call, Hosea hung up their coats and then wandered to the small kitchen. He set the coffeemaker, and then wondered how keys that were here just minutes ago, were now gone. It almost seemed like a trick—like the many he’d had to endure over the year from half the single women in the congregation.

He shook his head.
Not Natasia.
She was way too classy to resort to something like that. Plus, she had just lost her fiancé.

By the time Natasia joined him, he agreed with her theory that Pastor Case had mistakenly lifted the keys.

“I don’t have great news,” she said, as she grabbed the mug Hosea had prepared for her. “It may be a couple of hours because of the weather.”

Hosea took a sip of his coffee.

She said, “I hope you didn’t have plans tonight.”

“Actually, I did.”

“Sorry,” she said, although she didn’t sound regretful at all.

He looked at her for a moment. “I’ll bring my plans right here.”

She frowned and followed him down the hallway. Inside the pastor’s office, he turned on the television and laughed when Natasia clapped her hands.

“This is exactly what I planned to do,” she said. “I am such a Bears fan.”

“Really?”

“Since I was a little girl.”

“Well, we’re going to have a big problem. Because the Giants are my boys from way back.”

“It’s on now.” In one motion, she sank onto the floor, crossed her legs yoga-style, and smiled up at him. “Wanna wager?”

He laughed. “We’re sitting in the middle of God’s house and you’re talking about betting?”

“Not for money. Just a friendly wager between friends.”

“Between friends, huh?” he said. And then, he noticed it. The pounding in his chest, the sweaty palms, were gone. Now all he felt was normal. They were just two people waiting out a storm.

She said, “Tonight you’re not my pastor. We’re just friends—”

The slam of the door didn’t take Hosea away from that long-ago memory, but his father’s voice did.

“Hosea!” When he faced his father, Reverend Bush said, “Seems like you were in another place.”

Another time
, he thought. He hugged his father. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Guess so. It has to be exciting, although can’t say your leaving makes me happy. I’m gonna miss you guys.”

Hosea nodded solemnly, then broke into a grin. “It’s not me…or Jasmine you’re going to miss.”

Reverend Bush laughed. “I can’t believe you’re taking Jacquie away.” He leaned closer to his son. “Come on. Just leave her here with me.”

“Yeah, right. Talk to my wife about that.”

He shook his head. “You can’t blame a grandfather for trying.” Reverend Bush motioned for Hosea to sit down. “So, you didn’t say what you wanted to talk about.”

“Nothing, really. Just wanted to spend some time with you before we head for La La Land.”

Reverend Bush pressed his fingers together and peered at his son. “Talk to me.”

Hosea shifted. “About what?”

The reverend leaned across his desk, his face stretched with concern. “Everything okay with you and Jasmine?”

“Oh, yeah. We had our big problems right up front so we know that our marriage can survive anything. We’re good.”

Reverend Bush nodded. “Glad to hear that. It took me a while to get here, but I’m convinced God has big plans for you two as husband and wife.” Reverend Bush stopped, stared again. “But there’s something you’re not…” He rotated his hand in the air as if that motion would complete his question.

Hosea glanced out the window. The rain continued to plummet in sheets, making him want to remember again. “There’s nothing more to tell, Pops.” Then, after a moment of silence, he said, “Natasia’s in town.” Reverend Bush frowned and Hosea repeated her name, this time slowly to bring her back to his father’s memory.

“What’s she doing in New York?”

“Getting ready to go to L.A. She’ll be working as a producer for
Bring It On.
”

Reverend Bush’s eyebrows rose. “You hired her?”

“Not me. The network. I told you we wanted to build the show’s news element, and there’s no one better than Natasia.”

Reverend Bush sat, thoughtful. “Does Jasmine know?”

“Of course.”

“Not that Natasia’s going to be on the show…does Jasmine
know?
About your past relationship?”

“Like I said, of course. I don’t have any secrets from my wife.” Hosea leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees. “Jasmine knows everything, Pops. And she knows the most important thing—that I love her.”

Reverend Bush clasped his hands as if he were about to pray. “I don’t think working with Natasia is a good idea.”

Hosea frowned.

Reverend Bush continued. “Marriage is difficult enough. Don’t bring unnecessary complications to the table.”

“Natasia’s not a complication. She’s one of the best producers in the business.”

“She’s not the only one.”

“True, but if the network wants her, why should I make it an issue? She knows that whatever we had was over long ago. She knows that all that’s left between us is strictly business.” He paused. “And she knows that I’m married and I love my wife.”

“Seems like she knows a lot.”

“I told her all of this.”

“Seems even more interesting that you had to have that kind of conversation.”

The images came, floated through his mind. Natasia at Tavern on the Green. Her hands on his. Her lips professing that she would always love him.

Hosea said, “Yeah, we talked. I wanted to make sure she understood.”

“I know how much you loved Natasia.”

“Key word—loved. But I was able to walk away when God told me to.” Hosea relaxed in his seat. “Pops, you’re making something out of nothing.”

“It has to mean something. If not, you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“I only mentioned it because…” He wondered why he’d brought up Natasia’s name. Wondered why he thought of her so much these days. “I only mentioned her because I tell you everything. I got this, Pops.”

Reverend Bush nodded. “Then, if you say you’ve got it, that’s all I need. You know how I am. We talk once, then I’m done. After that all I do is pray.”