Too Little, Too Late: A Novel

Jasmine and Hosea

JUNE 2006

Made to Love Ya

—GERALD LEVERT

ONE

EVEN WITH THE COLD METAL of the gun’s barrel pressed hard against her temple, Jasmine’s feet would not move.

I want you out of my house.

Jasmine wanted to plead for her life. Beg for forgiveness and give him at least one hundred of the good reasons she had for telling her husband all of those lies. But her lips, like her feet, were frozen with fear.

I said get out of my house.

The venom in his voice turned her fear into fight. And she fought with her words. Please, Hosea, please forgive me for not telling you the truth before. But I’ll tell you now; I’m forty-three, not thirty-eight.

The gun cocked.

She dropped to her knees and cried. And I didn’t tell you that I was married before because—

Hosea pushed the metal into her skin.

Please, she begged more. Please.

He pulled the trigger.

Jasmine screamed. Shot up straight in bed, her skin dripping with the same sweat that drenched their satin sheets for the many nights that this nightmare invaded her sleep.

Darlin’?

She heard the calm of her husband’s voice, then felt the warmth of his arms. Darlin’, it’s just a dream. The kisses he planted on her forehead were meant to soothe, but that didn’t work.

It’s all right, darlin’, Hosea kept saying. Just another one of those bad dreams.

He’s wrong, she thought as she settled back in bed. This was not just a dream.

Even as the rhythm of Hosea’s sleep breathing returned, Jasmine’s eyes stayed wide open. She knew if she surrendered to unconsciousness, Hosea’s words would come back. And those words—far more than the gun—made fear rise like bile within her.

In her nightmare, Hosea was as cold as the gun he held. As cold as he’d been on the day, about eighteen months ago, when he’d actually told her he’d wanted nothing more to do with her—right after she revealed that he wasn’t the father of their daughter.

For the millionth time Jasmine wished that her lies had ended there. But they didn’t. And she knew if her secrets were uncovered her nightmare would turn into reality.

This dream was a sign, a warning—she was sure. She’d had it two or three times over the past year. But in the last two weeks, the ghost of her deceptive past haunted her with an almost daily vengeance.

She knew the reason why—it was because in ten days she and Hosea were renewing their vows.

I want us to stand before God again, Hosea had told her when he first came up with the idea. I want us to recommit.

Her eyes had widened with surprise. Baby, don’t people wait until their tenth or twentieth anniversary to do that?

There’re no rules. He’d embraced her. What’s most important is the reason why. And with the way we started… He’d stopped right there. Jasmine had closed her eyes and remembered the wonder of their first six months of marriage, and then the beautiful birth of their daughter. But when Jacqueline was barely twenty-four hours old, Hosea had walked away—from both her and the baby. Yet God’s grace had found its way to her through Hosea’s heart.

I forgive you was all Hosea said when he came back to her. He’d held her and Jacqueline and explained that it was God who had put them together, so they were divinely obligated to work through whatever challenges they had.

From that day, he’d loved her, claimed Jacqueline as his own, and together they’d lived in matrimonial bliss. But in the middle of her heaven, she wallowed in hell, terrified that one day the rest of her lies would be revealed.

Now, the fact that Hosea wanted to renew their vows so that they could start afresh made her tremble in terror. How could she stand before God—again—and pretend that all was well?

I’ve got to find a way to tell Hosea.

But even as her spirit longed to stop the lies, she didn’t have the faith—or the guts—to tell the truth. It was too risky; she could lose Hosea, this time for good. No, she couldn’t take that chance. Her secrets would have to stay tucked away in the dark, and she’d just pray that they never came to light.

TWO

THE MISSION: TO KEEP ALL of her secrets hidden.

And there was only one person Jasmine knew who could make sure that task was accomplished.

Good to see you, Mrs. Bush. With his thick Lithuanian accent, the doorman greeted Jasmine as if he hadn’t just seen her last week.

She waved to Henrikas and scooted into the elevator. Although she, Hosea, and Jacqueline had moved away a year ago, this Park Avenue building still felt like home. A minute later, the apartment door opened before she even had the chance to knock.

I thought you were coming yesterday. Mae Frances spoke in her signature grumpy tone. But her eyes sparkled.

Hello to you, too, Nama, Jasmine said, calling Mae Frances by the name that eighteen-month-old Jacqueline had given to the woman who, just three years ago, had been nothing more than the cantankerous old lady who lived across the hall. But now, Mae Frances was part of their family and the only grandmother Jacqueline would ever know.

Jasmine kissed her cheek, then swept into the apartment. She stopped, a déjà vu moment—back to the first time she’d entered this space. She’d been shocked when she’d walked into this drab apartment that didn’t match the woman who was always drenched in diamonds and furs and who was chauffeured through the city in a limousine. She remembered her pain when she discovered that it was all a façade, that Mae Frances was a woman living in poverty with a prideful heart too hard to ask for help. Mae Frances had been an unsaved soul whose eternal doom had already begun right here on earth.

But that was then. Now there was no darkness inside Mae Frances’s residence. Today, the sun’s rays pressed through the massive windows framed with designer drapes that Jasmine had bought and Hosea had hung. The aged, raggedy furniture was gone, replaced with the chic pieces that had once graced Jasmine’s apartment.

What are you grinning at? Mae Frances grumbled, standing as erect and elegant as a dancer.

Your apartment looks good.

Umph. Mae Frances smoothed the new silk skirt that Jasmine had bought her last week before she settled onto the sofa. I’m just holding this furniture until you and your husband move. You need to get out of that penthouse and find a home with a yard for my granddaughter. Her eyes scanned the room. Then I’ll give you back all of this fancy stuff—I don’t need it. What’s this ugly color, anyway, aqua?

Jasmine didn’t bother to answer. She’d come to learn that this was just Mae Frances’s way. Her tone, her words had nothing to do with her heart.

I’m just doing this as a favor for you. Mae Frances continued her rant. Still, she was stiff, but her smile matched the light in her eyes.

And we thank you.

They both knew she’d given Mae Frances the furniture. But while the woman Jasmine had come to love like a mother had changed much over the years of their friendship, her pride still remained. So, Jasmine let her keep her dignity and went along with whatever role Mae Frances wanted to play on any given day.

In an instant, Jasmine’s smile was gone. Do you have the information?

Solemnly, Mae Frances nodded and handed Jasmine a slip of paper.

She took a moment before she glanced at the note: Kenny Larson. And next to her ex-husband’s name was a number with a 678 area code.

How did you get this?

Mae Frances waved her hands in the air. One of my connections.

Jasmine shook her head. She’d grown closer to Mae Frances than anyone besides Hosea. But still, her friend was a mystery. She had no idea how Mae Frances always had the hook-up. It was one of her connections who had helped Jasmine almost get away with keeping her daughter’s paternity a secret. Dr. Jeremy Edmonds, an Upper East Side ob/gyn, had twisted the truth, making sure that Hosea believed Jasmine’s lies—all for a fee, of course.

Mae Frances stopped Jasmine’s memories. You need to make this call.

What should I say?

Find out his intentions. Make sure he has no plans to mess up your life. Mae Frances tilted her head. I still can’t believe you were married before.

She nodded. Kenny was my high school sweetheart. I was a cheerleader and he was the star of the football team, on his way to the NFL.

Hmph. Guess that didn’t happen.

Jasmine shook her head. He got hurt in college. Messed up all our hopes of becoming rich and famous. We never even got close—he ended up being nothing more than a numbers cruncher.

So explain to me why you never told Preacher Man? she asked, referring to the name she’d given Hosea the moment she’d met him.

I don’t know why, Jasmine whined. That was the truth. She had no idea why she’d told that lie. It made no sense now. But back then, when she was determined to become Hosea’s wife, she was convinced that the lie was necessary; sure that Hosea—a minister—would never consider making a divorced woman his wife. She knew now that she’d been wrong. But what she wasn’t so certain of was what Hosea would do if he found out. Even if he could forgive her for the lie, would he forgive how—and for how long—she’d hidden the truth?

That’s why she had to make this call.

Jasmine’s heart pressed hard against her chest as she dialed. She wasn’t afraid of her ex—just of the secret that he unknowingly held.

Hello.

Jasmine didn’t know why a woman’s voice surprised her. May I speak to Kenny?

Who’s calling?

None of your business was what Jasmine wanted to say, the Jezebel rising in her. She wondered what other words she could say to make this woman—whoever she was—even more insecure. But then, Jasmine remembered; she was no longer the woman who went after another woman’s man.

Tell Kenny it’s an old friend.

The pause told her that explanation wasn’t good enough. Still a moment later, she heard This is Kenny, and the rich, familiar tone made her smile.

This is Jasmine. Then there was nothing, and Jasmine wondered if she was going to have to remind her ex-husband that she was his ex-wife.

Wow. Jasmine. It’s been a long time. How are you?

Fine. Jasmine stopped, not knowing what to say next.

There was a time when Jasmine had loved herself some Kenny Larson. But being married to a middle-manager in an insurance company was a hard life for Jasmine to live. An even harder life to accept. Especially when her best friend of thirty-five years—Kyla Jefferson—had married a successful doctor, and had a life full of the accoutrements that Jasmine had always known would be hers.

Jasmine sighed. There was no need to travel down that lane of memories. Life was perfect now—with Hosea. She just had to make sure it stayed that way.

She searched for words to say to her ex. I’ve been fine and…I was just…I was thinking…. She stopped again, calmed down. It’s good to hear your voice, she said and meant it.

Good to hear you, too, he said with a warmth that came from his heart. So, you still in Los Angeles?

She said, No, I left a while ago, and settled into the conversation like she was talking to an old friend. I’m in New York. Behind her, she heard a deep cough. She glanced up and her eyes widened.

Mae Frances stood at the entry with the extension phone pressed to her ear. She covered the mouthpiece and hissed, Don’t tell him where you live. Don’t tell him anything! Then she motioned for Jasmine to continue.

It took a moment for Jasmine to turn her attention back to Kenny. So…you’re in Atlanta.

Yeah, I’ve been here since I got married. Or remarried, I should say.

You like it down there?

Yeah, I have a son.

That made Jasmine smile. Kenny had wanted children. She didn’t. Not when he was earning only fifty thousand dollars a year. Is he playing football yet?

Kenny laughed. He’s only two, but give me a couple of years, I’ll have him out there. What about you? Did you ever change your mind? Decide to have kids?

Yeah, I have— The loud cough stopped her. Made her only say, Yeah, I changed my mind.

He said, So, what are you up to?

Not much. I work with my godbrother—

The cough came again.

I’m just living life. She paused and old memories played again in her mind. Of how Kenny had taken care of her when her mother passed away. How he’d tried to rescue her from her agony. How he’d been the only one who could. How even all of that had not been enough to rescue her from the mundane life she’d lived, the glamorous life she craved. I know you’re surprised to hear from me, she said, her voice softer now, filled with the love that she once had for him. I’d been thinking about you and wondered if you were okay. And happy.

I’m good. Very happy.

I’m really glad to hear that.

I hope you’re happy, too, he said.

It didn’t even take her a moment. I am. Another long silence sat between them. Well, I really didn’t want anything more than to say hello.

Listen, let me get your number.

No! she exclaimed. She could imagine that now. Kenny calling. Hosea answering. The ex-husband introducing himself to the present one. She said, I think we should just leave things right here.

O…kay, he spoke slowly.

It’s just that even now, hearing your voice, I know that I did a lot of things wrong. There’s not a lot I want to remember.

So you’re saying I remind you of all the bad times, he said with no hostility in his tone.

It wasn’t all bad, Kenny. And it wasn’t all you.

He chuckled. There was a time when I would have paid big bucks to hear you say that.

I’m sorry for all we went through. I know you tried, but I guess I wasn’t happy with myself, so I couldn’t be happy with you.

Hey, it wasn’t all bad and it wasn’t all you.

She smiled as he repeated her words. I wish you all of God’s blessings.

By his pause, Jasmine knew she’d surprised him with those divine good wishes. You too, Jasmine. Take care.

She held on to the phone a moment longer, remembering. But Mae Frances’s cough reminded her that she needed to forget.

Mae Frances growled. "Well, that didn’t work."

Why were you listening?

Good thing I was. You were about to give up all the info that you’re trying to hide.

At least now I know.

Know what?

I know where he’s living, that he’s married, that he has a son. And that he’s happy. I don’t have to worry about him showing up here in New York. I’m good.

Mae Frances twisted her lips in doubt. Here’s hoping.

Jasmine smiled. For the first time in weeks, she looked forward to snuggling in bed next to Hosea. Her secrets were safe.

She leaned back against the sofa’s edge, but Mae Frances slapped her arm, making her sit up straight. Take your head off my couch, Mae Frances scolded. With all of that gel in your hair, you’re gonna mess up my furniture.

Jasmine rubbed the space where her skin still stung. But she couldn’t get mad. There was nothing in life that could change Mae Frances.

No problem. I don’t wanna mess up your furniture. She jumped up. Gotta go, anyway. Are you okay for dinner? Do you want me to pick up something?

No, thank you. I don’t need nobody looking after me like that. I’m not an old woman, you know.

I know, but I will always take care of you. Jasmine kissed her cheek. We’ll pick you up for church in the morning.

Okay, Mae Frances grumbled. But I’m only going because of that ridiculous bet. Don’t make no sense that someone should blackmail someone else into going to church.

Jasmine chuckled. Mae Frances had been saying those same words every week.

Both of them knew that the bet they’d made—that Mae Frances would go to church if she and Hosea reunited—was long ago over. Mae Frances had kept her end. She’d marched into church that first Sunday—in between Jasmine and Hosea—with her head high and her lips poked out. And now more than a year later, Mae Frances was still sitting in the pews at City of Lights at Riverside Church every Sunday, that is, when she wasn’t in the choir stand draped in her burgundy gown, belting out tunes of old Negro hymns with the Senior Choir.

See you tomorrow, Nama. Love you, Jasmine yelled over her shoulder. She couldn’t wait to get home and start planning their second wedding. She was ready now to renew her vows, commit to Hosea again. Start all over. And this time, there would be no lies.

THREE

HOSEA ADJUSTED HIS TIE. His second wedding—that made him smile. He wondered if he and Jasmine would ever do this again. Maybe fifty years from now.

That made him suddenly remember. He closed his eyes. Went back. To another time. Another wedding—that almost was, but never happened. Hosea sighed and wondered why that memory came to him now. He never thought about his past. Didn’t want to start thinking about it now.

The door creaked open.

Well, you don’t look nervous.

Hosea grinned at his father. They hugged before he said, No, Pops, I’m good. I don’t have to wonder whether Jasmine will show up. She can’t change her mind. Hosea held up his hand, wiggled his fingers. The diamond chips in his wedding band glittered.

Reverend Bush beamed, but his smile widened when the door swung open again, this time banging hard against the wall. Jacqueline scurried into the room.

Dada, Dada, she squealed before she jumped into her father’s arms.

There’s my pumpkin. He lifted her, pressed his lips against her neck, and exhaled.

She giggled, then wiggled from his arms and ran to Reverend Bush. Pop-Pop!

She raised her arms and her grandfather lifted her up. Look at you, all dressed up, pretty in pink.

Speaking of pretty… The voice came from outside the room, but a moment later, Mae Frances paraded in wearing her own pink chiffon dress that fluttered around her ankles as she moved.

You’re beautiful, Nama. Hosea kissed her cheek.

She tossed her hand in the air and smoothed over her French roll. Really? I grabbed this ol’ thing from the back of my closet.

Hosea grinned. He knew Mae Frances remembered that he was with her and Jasmine when they’d bought this dress a week ago. He said, You’re going to be the most beautiful woman in the church. After my wife, of course.

Reverend Bush said, Is Jasmine ready?

She is. We’re just waiting for Preacher Man.

Peeker Man! Jacqueline imitated.

Reverend Bush and Mae Frances laughed, but Hosea didn’t. Nama, don’t call me that. I don’t want Jacquie growing up calling me Preacher Man.

Peeker Man! Jacqueline echoed.

Hosea shook his head as he took Jacqueline from his father’s arms.

I’m going to check on Jasmine, Mae Frances said. She pushed back her shoulders, raised her head high like the queen she knew she was. Reverend, do you want to join me?

Reverend Bush gave her a half-smile. If it’s okay to see the bride before the ceremony.

It is. You ’re not her husband. In fact, last time I checked, you were single; isn’t that right?. She looped her arm through Reverend Bush’s before the two left the room together.

Dada!

Hosea rested Jacqueline on his lap and hugged his daughter. He was grateful for this day. Grateful that he and Jasmine would start again. Without the secrets and the lies that had tainted their union the first time.

Remembering their first wedding made him pull back and glance at his daughter. She ignored him; her focus was on the ribbon in front of her dress.

Just looking at her made him smile—except for moments where that small corner of his heart ached. And now, as he’d done so many times, he searched Jacqueline’s face for just a hint of himself. It was ridiculous, he knew that. How would he ever see something that couldn’t be there?

You are my daughter, he whispered. Legally, she was. His adoption of Jacqueline had been complete for months.

Dada, she said.

Yes, I am.

Jacqueline really was a beauty, from her honey-colored eyes to the sharp angle of her jaw, down to her full lips. She bore no resemblance to him and if he hadn’t witnessed her birth, he would have even questioned her maternity. But Brian Lewis—that man Jacqueline did not deny. She wore her biological father’s DNA on the outside.

That was his sentence—a lifetime of looking at the daughter he loved so much and seeing what he hated most. His wife’s sin. Though he had long ago forgiven, it was a battle to forget. All he could do was remember. The sin.

My dada, Jacqueline said.

Hosea looked at his daughter. Her smile was gone, and now her thick eyebrows were bunched together like she was deep in thought.

Hosea smiled. There it was—that was his part of her. His serious, studious nature. She was a beauty, but her brains—she’d get that from him. At least, that’s what he’d pretend.

He lifted her up. Did I ever tell you that I loved you before you were even born?

Jacqueline nodded and laughed.

He knew she didn’t understand. But one day she would know his unconditional love for her.

He let her legs drop to the floor. Okay, my pumpkin. Let’s go get married.

Git marry!

Just one look at Jasmine made him forget her sins.

"I was made to love ya…"

Gerald Levert crooned through the speakers and Jasmine sauntered down the aisle as Hosea’s favorite singer told how every part of him was made to love his woman. There were times when Hosea just knew this song had been written about him.

He was made to love this woman who was moving slowly toward the altar, her eyes filled with light just for him. Two years, a multitude of sins, yet he loved her like nobody’s business. And she had never looked more beautiful than she did today, in the pink gown she wore.

His wife had complained about the twenty extra pounds she carried since she’d given birth. But Hosea couldn’t see it. Whatever size she was now—a ten, twelve, fourteen, twenty—it didn’t matter to him. He loved every inch—from her shoulder-length auburn-streaked hair to her toned legs that would have been the envy of any sprinter, she was the perfect woman, the one created by God just for him.

His eyes left Jasmine and he glanced down at Jacqueline, standing at his side, waiting. When he looked up again, the look of total devotion that Jasmine wore let him know that he could do this, he could take these vows and then put it all—her past, the sin, his hurt—behind him. After today, he wouldn’t think about or remember any of it anymore.

Mama, come! Jacqueline’s demand broke through the majesty and they all laughed.

Sorry I took so long, Jasmine said before she moved into place at the altar. She stood on the other side of Jacqueline and took her hand, the bridge between husband and wife.

Well, here we are again. Pride was inside Reverend Bush’s smile as he stood before his family. I have done a few of these ceremonies, but I’ve never done one so early into a marriage. But therein lies the beauty—there is no definition as to when one can stand before God and reaffirm love that has deepened with not only the passing of time, but also the living of life. He paused. Hosea and Jasmine, when you first stood at this altar two years ago, little did you know that trials would come that would test your faith, and your love—for each other and for God. Reverend Bush paused and Jasmine and Hosea both glanced at Jacqueline.

Clearing his throat, Reverend Bush continued. "But you kept your promises, to each other and to God, understanding that this commitment is not for a limited time, but for a lifetime.

So, I am proud to be here, in front of two people— he grinned at Jacqueline, who still stood holding her parent’s hands —excuse me, three people, who not only love God, but know God. Who understand that their union is ordained by God. Who understand that anything that God puts together, no man can take apart.

Hosea took a breath. As long as he remembered these words he’d be fine. This wasn’t about him. Never was. This was about the love that God had placed in his heart—for Jasmine. This was about the life that God created—in Jacqueline. This was about living the life of blessings that God had—for all of them.

Minutes later, when Reverend Bush announced, Hosea, you may kiss your bride…again, Hosea had never been happier to hold his wife. Thank God, he thought as their lips met. Thank God for new beginnings.

May I have your attention, I’d like to say something.

The murmur of chatter ceased as the thirty-some-odd guests turned toward Hosea.

Jasmine grinned as she moved to his side. What are you going to say?

He answered with just a smile as his eyes scanned the space. This was so different from their first reception. Back then, they’d celebrated with two hundred guests in a private room at Tavern on the Green. But today, only the people dearest to them were here, and they celebrated in the church’s reception hall.

Hosea had been surprised when Jasmine insisted on a simple ceremony. Just our family, she’d said.

His wife had grown so much. Faith and family—that was most important to both of them. He had to talk her into including more guests than just his father, Mae Frances, and her godbrother, Malik. Now, as he glanced at the gathering—from Mrs. Whittingham, his father’s assistant, to Brother Hill, one of the head deacons at City of Lights, he was glad they’d included their friends.

First, Hosea began, taking Jasmine’s hand, thank you for sharing this day with us. For me, today is even more important than the first time. Because two years ago, I loved Jasmine, but I didn’t know Jasmine. And it was the same for her with me. But now, through time, trials, and triumphs, we know everything—the good, the bad, the ugly. We even know each other’s nightmares.

Soft chuckles filled the space, but Jasmine’s smile went away.

I want everyone to know how much I love my wife and my daughter. So in front of family and friends, Hosea raised his glass in the air, let me say to Jasmine Larson Bush, thank you for making me the happiest man on earth again. I look forward to our years—not without some tears—but with mostly love and laughter. This is our beginning. Clean, fresh, new. He lifted his flute higher.

Glasses clicked and Cheers! followed.

I have one more piece of news, he said loud enough to get everyone’s attention again. My wife and I are going to take an extended honeymoon.

Get out! Jasmine exclaimed. A vacation?

Well, not exactly a vacation, but you’re going to love it. We’re going to Los Angeles!

Oh, that’s nice, Mrs. Whittingham said, and the rest of the crowd agreed.

Hosea chuckled when he glanced at his wife, her face long with confusion. I know this won’t compare to our honeymoon in Bermuda, he said to her, but you’re still going to enjoy it because we’re going for three months.

Wow, rang through the group. There were more smiles, more cheers. Happiness from everyone. Except for Jasmine.

Some of you know Triage Blue, my friend and the other executive producer on my television show. Well, Triage is making major moves. He’s gone from rapper to talk show host and now actor. He’s starring in a new Spike Lee movie, taping in L.A. So instead of finding a temporary cohost, we’re taking the show on the road.

Los Angeles, Jasmine said, still not able to find any joy.

Hosea turned to Malik. Bro, do you think you can manage for three months at the club without my wife?

You know she runs the place. Her godbrother smiled. But we’ll work it out. I’m sure Rio will still be standing when you guys get back. Malik raised his glass, toasting Hosea and Jasmine. Don’t worry. The two of you, he paused and looked at Jacqueline, who was sleeping in her grandfather’s arms, "the three of you go to the Left Coast and have a great time."

Hosea squeezed Jasmine’s hand. A great time. That’s exactly what we plan to do for the rest of our lives.

FOUR

JASMINE TUCKED JACQUELINE underneath the blanket, kissed her cheek, then tiptoed from her bedroom.

Is my pumpkin asleep? Hosea asked, meeting Jasmine in the hallway.

She nodded. Your pumpkin had a long day.

He grinned as he put his arm around Jasmine and walked beside her. You haven’t said much about my surprise.

Jasmine turned toward the massive living room windows that overlooked Central Park. Even in the night hours this tenth-floor view of the park’s southern border was a natural wonder. But the beauty didn’t bring her the peace that it normally did.

So, what do you think about L.A.? Hosea settled onto the couch. Pretty exciting, huh?

More like scary. It could be.

That’s not the right answer. What’s wrong?

She didn’t have to turn around to know that his face was now creased with concern.

She pasted on a smile, took a deep breath, and faced him. I was thinking…is it necessary for me to go to L.A. with you?

His frown deepened.

I mean, she continued, if you’re only going to be there for three months, do we need to pack up everything?

We’re not moving. All we have to do is take a few bags. The show’s going to pay for our place; they’re looking at apartments at the Fairmont for the staff.

Years ago, she would have walked from New York to Los Angeles to spend one night in that five-star hotel in the San Fernando Valley. But that kind of stuff didn’t matter anymore. All she cared about was her husband and her daughter. And keeping her husband happy. She couldn’t do that if she were in Los Angeles.

But it’s more than packing a few bags, Hosea. We’ll have to disrupt Jacquie—

From what?

From her life.

Hosea chuckled. Jacquie doesn’t care where she sleeps as long as Mama and Dada are in the next room. He paused. I thought you’d be excited.

I am. Jasmine lowered her eyes.