A Sin and a Shame (23 page)

Mae Frances opened her purse, and Jasmine did the same. She wondered what excuse Mae Frances would use this time—she had forgotten her wallet, or didn’t have time to go to the bank. But then Mae Frances slid a fifty-dollar bill onto the table.

With wide eyes, Jasmine said, “Mae Frances, I—this restaurant—it’s too much. Let me pay.”

Like always, her back became straighter, her face stiffer. “I invited you to lunch, Jasmine Larson. That means I’m paying.”

“But, I don’t mind—”

Mae Frances held up her hand. “No need to talk about this. I’ve told you over and over that I’m not a charity case.”

When the waiter returned with Mae Frances’s food wrapped, she finished the last of her wine, stood, took the package, and handed the waiter the fifty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

She marched away, not taking notice of the frantic look on the waiter’s face.

“Miss,” he yelled behind her.

Jasmine tapped his arm, stopping him. “How much is the check?”

The young man’s hands shook as he looked down at the check and then the bill that Mae Frances had given him. “It’s seventy-eight dollars!”

Jasmine slipped the waiter two twenty-dollar bills. She smiled, and then followed Mae Frances to her waiting limousine.

Jasmine scooted to the
edge of the bed and hung her head between her legs.

Almost an hour had passed since she returned from lunch, but still her stomach stirred. She was being held hostage by the nausea.

The telephone rang and Jasmine groaned. She wished the world would vanish—until she could figure out what was making her feel so sick. She took a deep breath before she answered. “Hello.” She tried to fill her voice with energy.

“Jasmine,” Ciara shouted, her voice frantic. “I just got a call from Reverend Bush and I’m praying. Do you have a copy of your birth certificate?”

Jasmine frowned. “Yeah, why?”

She could hear Ciara’s relief. “Thank God. We’ve been moving so fast, it slipped my mind. We have to get you and Hosea to the City Clerk’s office. For your marriage license.”

Jasmine sat straight up.

Ciara continued, “Hosea said he would send a car for you so that you can get right there. He has to be back on set in an hour. Can you be ready in ten minutes?”

“No, ah—”

“Jasmine, if we don’t get this license, you won’t be getting married on Saturday. Hosea’s schedule is packed for the rest of the week. We’re sending a car now. Be downstairs in ten minutes,” Ciara ordered and then hung up before Jasmine could protest further.

Slowly, Jasmine lowered the telephone.

The quickness of this wedding, the sickness that had overwhelmed her, had taken away her skills. She’d forgotten about a marriage license. Forgotten about how she’d have to walk into the clerk’s office and produce a birth certificate that would show her real age. And a driver’s license that would confirm what her birth certificate said—that she was a liar.

She rose from the bed and rushed into her closet. Inside, she lifted the plastic box that held her important papers and she gasped as she opened the top. Along with her birth certificate was her marriage certificate, as well as her divorce decree. All of these papers were in full view for the man who would be moving in with her next week.

Maybe I should burn these.
But whatever she decided to do with the papers that held her ex-husband’s name, she couldn’t think about that now.

Jasmine stuffed her birth certificate deep inside her purse. She wasn’t sure how she would handle the situation, but she knew that Hosea would never see her papers. He couldn’t—even if it meant not being able to get a marriage license.

“It won’t come to that,” she said as she locked her front door. But as she rode the elevator down, she wasn’t so sure of her words.

She saw Hosea the
moment the Town Car slowed in front of the City Clerk’s office. And her nausea returned. When the car stopped, he rushed over and helped her step out.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, and kissed her cheek. “Can you believe everyone forgot about this?” He took her hand and led her up the steps into the City Clerk’s office. A guard directed them to Room 203. “We wouldn’t be getting married on Saturday if Pops hadn’t reminded me.”

As he rushed toward the room, Jasmine was glad that Hosea didn’t notice that she had not spoken. She couldn’t use her energy to speak. Had to use every bit of strength to concentrate only on the task in front of her.

Although two couples were talking to clerks, there was no one in line and a slim, fifty-something woman motioned for them to step to her station.

“We’re getting married on Saturday,” Hosea said. “And we forgot to get the license. I hope it’s not too late because I want to marry this woman.”

The woman laughed. “You have plenty of time. You actually have up until twenty-four hours before the wedding.”

Jasmine thought,
Good to know.

The woman peered at the two. “So, are you the couple?”

Hosea nodded. “Doesn’t she look like my wife already?”

The woman laughed again. “Yes, she does. So lovely, both of you. Now, there are two ways to do this.” She paused. “I can give you forms to fill out, or I can input this information right into the computer. Which would you prefer?”

“The forms,” Jasmine said.

“The computer,” Hosea said.

They looked at each other and the woman chuckled. “Oh, no, your first fight,” the woman kidded.

“It’s just that I’m in a hurry,” Hosea said, “and I thought the computer would be faster.”

“It would be.” The lady tapped on the keyboard in front of her. “This won’t take long. I just need your driver’s licenses and your birth certificates.”

Jasmine watched as Hosea placed an envelope on the counter. Slowly, she pulled her certificate from her purse and then shifted through her wallet for her license. She waited until the woman looked up before she handed the papers directly to her.

The woman scanned Jasmine’s driver’s license and birth certificate. “Is this information correct?”

Jasmine swallowed, nodded.

“You live in Florida?”

“Oh, no, I’m a New York resident now. Is this a problem?”

“No, as long as you’re getting married in New York.” The woman rested Jasmine’s documents on the counter and tapped the computer keys. “Give me your current address.”

As Jasmine responded, she could see Hosea twisting his neck, glancing at her papers.

“So, sweetie, you’re in a hurry?” she asked, forcing him to face her. “What do you have going on today?”

“Just meetings, and then more meetings.”

“I’m sorry that you’re so rushed,” she purred straightening his tie.

The way he grinned, Jasmine knew his thoughts about her papers were forgotten.

He said, “I don’t mind being rushed this week because I don’t want anything on the calendar while we’re on our honeymoon.”

She hugged him. Over his shoulder, she watched the woman’s fingers glide across the keys.

“Okay,” the woman said and pushed Jasmine’s papers aside. “Now, Mister…,” she paused as she looked at his driver’s license. “Mr. Bush. Hosea Bush.” She paused again and then glanced up. “You’re Hosea Bush?” She beamed. “I didn’t recognize you.”

Hosea grinned. As he gave the woman his New York address, Jasmine slid her papers off the counter and stuffed them back inside her purse. She didn’t breathe until her bag was zipped and snug against her side.

“Darlin’, did you hear that?”

“No, I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Ms. Lewis wants me to speak at her church. To their teen ministry,” he said as he handed the woman a business card.

“That would be terrific,” Jasmine said, taking Hosea’s arm. “My husband is a wonderful speaker.”

“Oh, I’m your husband already, huh?” He grinned.

“My first and last,” she said.

“Well, that answers my next question,” Ms. Lewis said, “but I have to ask anyway. Have either of you been married before?”

“No,” Hosea said.

“Why do you need to know that?” Jasmine’s voice quivered.

Ms. Lewis waved her hand in the air. “You would not believe the number of people who come in here trying to marry someone, when they are already married. If someone were married before, we’d need the divorce certificate.”

“Neither of us were married,” Hosea said.

Ms. Lewis turned back to the computer and tapped more keys. Jasmine’s heart pounded and she wondered why she’d ever told that lie.

“Well, that just about does it,” Ms. Lewis said, minutes later. “It’ll take just a few minutes for the license to print.”

Hosea glanced at his watch. “Do I have to be here for that?”

“No, not if your fiancée can wait.”

“Great. I’ll see you later, darlin’.” He kissed Jasmine’s cheek. “And don’t lose that license. We have a date on Saturday.” He waved to the clerk and then disappeared into the hallway.

“He’s a wonderful young man.”

Ten minutes later, she handed Jasmine the form that gave the state’s permission for the two to wed. “I wish you a long, wonderful, and prosperous marriage,” Ms. Lewis gushed. “May God bless you.”

“He already has,” Jasmine said speaking the truth. It was clearer than it had ever been before that God wanted her united with Hosea. Because in spite of all that she’d done wrong, he was blessing her.

“Thank you, God,” she whispered the moment she was in the hallway. “I promise, no more lies.”

J
asmine’s head was as
heavy as a boulder.

She’d hoped just laying her head on her desk for a moment would help, but minutes later, she still hadn’t raised her head. She’d felt this way all week, even though she’d taken three days off. After getting the marriage license on Monday, she’d expected to spend the rest of the week lounging, but wedding plans would not let her rest.

On Tuesday, Sebastian called to announce that her dress was ready. But at the fitting, he had fussed like a disapproving parent.

“Cherie, this is not good. We are not happy.” He’d flitted around, adjusting, tugging, marking as she stood in the middle of the living room in her dress. “We are eating too much and we cannot do that. This material is temperamental and we must do everything we can to look fabulous.”

Jasmine had wanted to tell Sebastian that she hadn’t felt well enough to eat at all. But she didn’t have the energy to defend herself.

Then yesterday, after meeting with Ciara for a final run-through, she’d accompanied Hosea to his doctor’s appointment. At least her fiancé was doing fine.

This morning, when she’d awakened, she decided to dash into the office to clear her desk.

But from the moment she’d arrived, she’d felt dizzy, on the verge of collapsing.

A quick knock on her door startled her, but Jasmine wasn’t able to lift her head before Tina walked in.

“Why are you here?” her assistant asked. “You’re getting married in two days.”

As if she needed that reminder. Every fiber of her being had been consumed with thoughts, plans, meetings about her wedding. She’d anticipated this day for her entire life, but now she couldn’t wait for Saturday to come—and then to go.

Her eyelids were heavy when she focused on Tina.

Tina said, “There’s nothing for you to do. Malik and I have all of your projects under control.” She paused and tilted her head. “You really don’t look well.” Tina parted her lips as if she had more to add.

Jasmine held up her hand, stopping her assistant. She knew how she looked. “I’m just tired.”

“Then go home,” Tina stated the simple solution. “You’ve got to be fresh for the rehearsal tomorrow and even better for Saturday.”

Jasmine glanced at her watch. It was just before noon. That would give her well over twenty-four hours to get it together for the rehearsal dinner.

“Okay” was all she could say.

When Tina rushed out of the office after her phone rang, Jasmine slipped the strap of her purse onto her shoulder. She stood, but less than a second later, she fell back into her seat. She waited, stood, and this time, moved toward the door. Her steps were cautious as she approached Tina’s desk.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” her assistant gushed with excitement.

Then Jasmine passed Gabriella. “Let me know if you need anything for the rehearsal tomorrow,” she said.

Jasmine forced a smile. She didn’t know why Gabriella had to be at her rehearsal dinner, but she didn’t have the power to think or talk to Malik about it.

As she waited for the elevator, she told herself that all would be well. She’d go home, rest, and then be ready to blush like the virgin bride that everyone expected her to be.