Julie responded by throwing a curve ball at Jasmine. “By the way, hon, how did your mother die? I had no idea that she was sick.”
How intrusive, Jasmine thought. But the truth was she could not come up with a satisfying answer to give Julie, because as far as Jasmine knew, her mother had not been sick – well, at least not to the point of death. Her mother had called her complaining about a stomach virus – which appeared to be in line with what the autopsy report had revealed of her death.
Who would have thought it would have been food poisoning? Her father seemed content to accept that her mother died from food poisoning, but Jasmine still had questions. She rarely heard of people dying from food poisoning these days. Jasmine was quick to agree with Doctor Peter Abdul when he had said that Sharon’s death was quite sudden and unusual. However, botulism was actually not all that uncommon. Dozens of babies died from it.
“…Jas, it seemed as if you took a coffee break,” Julie was saying. “Are you still on the phone?”
“I’m here, Julie. Your question made me think. That’s all. I was wondering if –”
Julie interrupted, “Could you call me back in an hour? Two clients just stepped into my office.”
“That’s okay. I will try again tomorrow. Take care, Julie.”
“Please – and I’m saying this as gently as I possibly can – heed your own advice. Don’t rush to get back to New York. I’m handling things here. I will be fine for another three weeks.”
Julie disconnected from the line and left Jasmine to drink in the silence surrounding her. There was a 22-inch flat screen TV mounted on the wall in the kitchen, which had been tuned to the Weather Channel by Karl before he left that morning. Jasmine’s eyes fluttered to the screen for a moment. She was a bit taken aback to see that a tropical storm was gaining strength in the Atlantic Ocean.
Jasmine knew the hurricane season was not over until after November, but she had been praying that God would spare the people for another year. How terrible it would be to get caught up in a storm next week, just when she decided to leave for New York. She turned up the volume and listened closely to assess whether she needed to make arrangements to leave sooner than she’d anticipated.
“…there are currently three areas of interest in the Atlantic,” the newscaster bellowed intelligently. “Our eyes are on Tropical Storm Cindy, which is located some 550 miles North West of the Bahamas. Cindy has maximum sustained winds of 67mph, and a minimum central pressure of 994mb. We will keep our eyes on this storm over the next 3 to 4 days, as the conditions could appear unfavorable. And, by that, I mean Tropical Storm Cindy could develop into a Category One hurricane by the middle of next week. A storm watch has been put into effect for the Bahamas and the Florida Cays –”
The sudden tap on the front door caused Jasmine’s gaze to snap away from the flat screen. She did not move until she heard the tap for the second time. She wanted to be certain that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, because she was not expecting anyone to visit at this hour of the day. However, her curiosity was short-lived after peering through the peephole. Brian Lakatos was standing on her porch, looking as dapper as the Prince of Wales. She wasted no time in pulling the door open. She could use a little bit of his company right now.
“Well, hello, Brian. I see you remembered where we live.”
Brian smirked so hard that his jaws hurt. “It’s only been twelve years,” he said. “How could I forget? It’s good to see you again Ms. Jasmine Benton.”
“And you, too, Mr. Lakatos. You are all grown up, but some things never change. You are still quick with your tongue.”
“It’s my only redeeming quality,” Brian confessed jokingly. “That’s why I never did away with it – that, along with my respect for your family. And on that note, I want to say on behalf of my family and our church that we are truly sorry for the loss of your mother. Mrs. Benton was a good woman.”
A look of admiration came to life in Jasmine’s eyes, but it faded just as quickly as it had appeared. The memory of her mother’s death kept her emotions vacillating. But she was not so completely out of it that it prevented her from being hospitable to Brian. “Do you want to come in?” she said. “I was just about to make some Espresso.”
Brian had been dying for Jasmine to extend the invitation. He mentally calmed himself and said a simple, “Thank you,” but added, “I’m sure Mr. Benton won’t mind the brief delay before our meeting.”
“Meeting?” Jasmine turned to face Brian. “So, you do have a ‘real’ reason to be here?”
“Yes, your father invited me –” Brian paused, not appreciating the context in which Jasmine had asked her question. He asked a question of his own that did not come out the way he had intended. “So, you thought that I came here to see you?”
Jasmine was quite direct and succinct with her response, “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, I did not mean for it to sound the way it did…”
“Too late,” Jasmine said. “You did not come here to see me. And, that is absolutely fine.”
Why do you think I’m dressed up like this? Brian wanted to scream, but instead, he responded nervously, “I came here to see both of you, I mean, your dad first and then you…well, I wanted to ask if you felt like grabbing a bite to eat…”
“I would like that,” Jasmine said. “I’ve been locked up in this house since my mother’s funeral. I will change my shoes; just give me a minute.”
“Wait…” Brian was so stunned by Jasmine’s candor his mind did not know how to embrace it. But Jasmine had always been that way from the time he knew her. Of course, her personality had never been a challenge for Wynton, who never got nervous around such women. That was probably why they had ended up together. Wynton knew how to handle her and Jasmine loved the fact that a boy of sixteen had such skills. But why at this awkward moment was he thinking about his brother and Jasmine’s sordid past? “Shouldn’t you tell your dad that I am here? I’m scheduled to meet with him right now.”
Jasmine stared at Brian with a bit of humor and said pointedly, “My father is not here, Brian. He left the house this morning and I haven’t heard from him since. It looks as if my father set both of us up for this moment. But I’m not surprised. He talks about you all of the time.”
“Really?”
“Yes, my father is pretty fond of you,” Jasmine said. “And, I can see why. You seem to have matured into a very fine, young man.”
Brian had a smooth caramel complexion, but he felt his cheeks turning beet red with embarrassment. How did he control his nervousness when a gorgeous woman like Jasmine kept tossing compliments at him like that? He reminded himself that he was not eighteen and was not living in Wynton’s shadow.
He cleared his throat, which had suddenly gone dry. “Thank you,” he said quietly. He managed to hold her bewitching stare. “There is something definitely different about you and I noticed it when I ran into you at the restaurant last week.”
Jasmine looked away as she fought off another wave of depression. Her mother had said relatively the same words to her last Christmas in New York. They had been sitting by the fireplace, discussing the changes that life had brought about. Her mother loved to dwell on what the Lord had done for the Benton family. Because of God’s bountiful blessings – as her mother would put it – they had never experienced a day of lack. Jasmine reconnected her gaze with Brian, not ashamed to hide her tears. There were no words in the vocabulary to capture the vacancy she felt in her heart.
“There is something different about me,” she said reflectively. “Several years ago, I committed my life to God, which I really never did when I was sixteen. I believe, however, that it had been my mother’s prayers that helped make me who I am today.”
“Wow, I never would have thought that you had it in you…” Brian paused and reevaluated what he was about to say. As an up and coming pastor he did his best to see people through the eyes of Christ – which included the ability to look beyond a perso
n’s sins and be able to identify the need of spiritual regeneration.
He had learned through reading stories about Christ’s mission that ‘attacking’ a sinner’s lifestyle may not be the wisest method to introduce salvation. But through much love and prayer, many resistances to the Christian faith could be won. “I would love to hear about this awesome transformation in your life, Jasmine. Please excuse me; I am just a bit overwhelmed by what the power of God can do to a person’s life.”
Jasmine used the back of her hand to dab the corners of her eyes. The more she tried to do away with her tears, the more they fell. She gave Brian a tight smile and said as wittily as she could muster, “Well, then, Mr. Lakatos, I shall not keep you waiting. I promise to leave these silly tears right here in this living room.”
“Your tears are not silly, Jasmine,” Brian said. “I’m actually impressed that you are willing to go out with me, considering what you are facing right now.”
“Are you kidding? I would be crazy to pass up this opportunity. I haven’t seen you for twelve years. I have thought of you and Wynton often and have always asked my mother –” Jasmine stopped when she noticed Brian’s wilted expression, which looked as if something distasteful had crossed his mind. It was then Jasmine realized that the brunt of her past had not been pleasant at all for those involved. She said bashfully, “There is so much that needs to be said. All three of us used to be such good friends…”
Brian watched Jasmine saunter on a pair of legs that made his eyes pop. If he hadn’t turned away when he did, he would have become an easy target of lust. He placed a nervous hand over his mouth and silently asked his heavenly Father a very peculiar question, Lord, could she be the one for me? I promise You that I won’t waste time asking her to take my hand in marriage.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Ladies, this way please! There are two buses to your right. Let’s get them filled up as quickly as humanly possible.”
The commanding voice belonged to fifty-seven-year-old Susan Cargill – Founder of the Daughters of Fellowship Foundation. Fifteen years of strong leadership had produced thousands of well-rounded women who had been educated in the ‘art’ of relationship building. The organization had won numerous awards and had been featured in magazines around the world. Although it was headquartered in Texas, Susan had made an early decision as founder to convene in a different city each year.
It was part of Susan’s belief system that experiencing different cultures generated an appreciation for diversity – as she had enforced in one of her many power-packed meetings. “One should learn to ‘respect’ the variances in human temperaments. There were no two people exactly alike. And, if that was understood, then there was a strong chance that people would get along much better.” Of course, in theory that was one story, in practicality it was another.
No matter what Susan came up with to bring peace and harmony between the women, there were always a few who made no effort in working along with the program. As with the two who were lingering behind Susan. They had quarreled from the aircraft all the way through Bahamas Customs. The noise level was embarrassing and Susan was tempted to disown them, but she had been through situations as such and she was not about to let things spiral completely out of control. However, Susan could not help giving in to a tad of her exasperation. She whirled around and shouted at them again, but her commands had no effect.
“Doreen, what is the matter with you?” Tara spat. “Get off that stupid phone so we can find a seat in one of those buses.”
Doreen turned away from Tara and continued with her rebuke. She had just discovered that the health department was ransacking her Tea House. In less than two weeks, they had returned, just when Doreen was out of town. Was that a coincidence? Doreen did not think so for one minute. The huge knots in her forehead, and the nasty bark in her voice, clearly showed that she was exceptionally livid. The invectives that flew out of Doreen’s mouth felt like daggers landing in Tara’s back.
She flung her phone at Tara and growled viciously, “You did this, you foul-looking creature!”
Tara, who had narrowly escaped having her head perforated by the flying object, stood erect from her bending position. She struggled against giving in to her fear. She stared Doreen down and said as calmly as she could, “If that phone had hit me, you better believe these men would have had to pull me off your miserable behind.”
Doreen mentally stomped Tara’s threat beneath her feet. She knew the ‘child’ was no match for her. It was easy to capitalize on her intimidation. “Don’t you back down from the truth, because it’s branded all over that atrocious forehead of yours!” Doreen did not stop walking until she stood six inches from Tara’s face. “I’ve had that Tea House for three doggone years and never had one problem keeping it spick and span! How is it in two weeks, two jerks from the health department suddenly show up and declare that my establishment is infested with rats?”
“Doreen, I don’t have the slightest idea what you are talking about. I did not even know that you owned –”
“Be the bloody whore that you are and admit it!” Doreen thundered. “You knew because my son told you!”
“I am not a whore, Doreen!”
“Of course you are!”
Tara took a step back and said incredulously, “Is that all you’re good for? To call people names? You need to take a look in the mirror at yourself!”
Doreen continued as if she had not been interrupted. “You’ve spread your legs for a dozen other men before you met my son. I’ve had your background checked out. I have folders of information on you. But how could you help it … when your bed-hopping skills came directly from your mother…”
Tara drew back and landed a left uppercut against Doreen’s chin. It was an automatic reaction. Tara’s next blow never came because Doreen reacted just as quickly – with her own right jab, which sent Tara stumbling over the sidewalk. The two women managed to get in a few ‘combos’ before they were pulled apart by two Bahamian porters. By the time Susan was able to get to them, a small crowd had gathered and the onlookers seemed eager for the fight to continue. However, Susan was red with humiliation and was not in the mood for entertainment. She attempted to reach for Doreen’s hand, but she was sharply insulted.
“Get away from me,” Doreen snapped. “I have two legs to walk on my own.”
“Please know, Mrs. Lakatos,” Susan said with firmness. “Another outbreak like this will not be tolerated on this trip. This is my first and last warning.”
Doreen held her head high and with her bag dangling from her wrist, she sauntered gracefully toward the bus.
“That woman has no shame at all,” Susan mumbled, as she stooped and picked up a small black book. She handed it to Tara and asked, “Does this belong to you?”
Still shaken by the experience, Tara took the black book from Susan. Maybe it had fallen out of one of their bags during the scuffle. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and then gave Susan a dubious glare. “Is it too late to change my mind?” she questioned.
“Too late for what?”
“To skip attending this event. I want to go back home to Florida,” Tara confessed. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Susan managed a wry smile. “You have come this far; why give up now? Let’s get you on one of those buses and we will discuss our plan of action tonight.”
“I don’t want to ride on the same bus with her,” Tara told Susan. “I need time to cool down.”
“Of course.”
Tara found the only available seat near the front, next to a lady who looked to be in her late seventies. And, for a split second, Tara wavered in her decision to take the seat because the elderly woman had a very unfriendly expression glued to her face. Regardless, Tara sat because she was eager to get to the hotel, where she would call Wynton to complain. She was surprised when the elderly woman decided to offer her unwanted comments.
“What a shame,” the elderly wom
an said. “You younger generation will suffer for your disrespect. How dare you raise your hand to your mother?”
“She is not my mother –” Tara paused, realizing there was no use in trying to defend her point. Apparently, mama was blind and did not see that Doreen had provoked the situation. The witch had flung a cell phone at her, which nearly severed her head in the process. How could mama not see that? Tara pushed her lips into a pout and turned away from the elderly woman.
Ten minutes into the drive, Tara was starting to relax and had actually started to enjoy the scenery. She had never visited the Bahamas before. So, she wanted to take in as much as she could while she was there. The first thing that had impressed Tara was the airport. She had read that it had recently undergone a massive renovation and expansion. The roads seemed freshly paved, and for a moment, as the beautiful palm trees whisked by in a blur, she got lost in thinking of what it would have been like if Wynton had accompanied her on the trip. For sure, they would have been making preparations to spend their first night in each other’s arms.
Soon, Tara let her head fall back on the headrest and tried to block out Doreen and her crazy antics. However, the black book that was still wedged between her fingers drew her curiosity from its hiding place. She sat up and casually began to thumb through the pages. She suddenly realized that it belonged to Doreen. A portfolio of some sort, Tara assumed. The writing was horrible, scribbled in a way that almost seemed intentional. Tara continued flipping through several pages and began reading whatever she found legible. Within a short while, Doreen’s secret thoughts began to roar to life.
Another two pages over and Tara’s heart rate began to excel. She felt as if all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the bus. She needed water. She needed air. She needed her man to confirm that she was not losing her mind. Her fingers trembled violently, which immediately got the attention of the elderly woman sitting next to her. She made a sarcastic remark, but Tara ignored the elderly woman. Rudeness had nothing to do with it. Tara could not come to grips with what her eyes had just stumbled upon. The mysterious heading read: