Too Little Too Late Read online

  She was quiet until they pulled in front of their apartment building. The doorman greeted them and Hosea tossed him the car keys.

  Inside the elevator, Jasmine asked, “Are you sure there’s not another reason why you didn’t tell me about Natasia?”

  Hosea sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “But I need to.”

  “There’s no reason. I’ve told you all there is.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He stepped to the side, tilted his head. “I’ve told you the truth, Jasmine,” his voice stronger now. The elevator doors opened. “Secrets are your M.O., not mine,” he said before he stomped from the elevator and into their apartment.

  Jasmine stood at the window, staring at the full foliage of Central Park. Hosea had taken Jacqueline to the pond, but thoughts of the lunch were still with her.

  Hosea was right. She should trust him. And she did. But she didn’t trust Natasia. She’d been in the game long enough to recognize a player. Natasia was definitely a player and the game had already begun.

  “It must be fate. We were meant to be.”

  Those were Natasia’s words, but Jasmine knew that Natasia being in New York was no coincidence. How could it be? She was the kind of woman who did her research, of that Jasmine was sure. She was convinced Natasia knew everything about Hosea Bush—including that he had a wife.

  “That woman is definitely after my husband.”

  “You say something, darlin’?”

  Jasmine spun around; Hosea stood at the door with Jacqueline in his arms.

  “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  “My pumpkin is knocked out. Let me lay her down.”

  Jasmine nodded, then waited for her husband on the couch. Even though the June sun beamed heat into their apartment, she shivered—every time she thought of Natasia.

  “Our daughter ran me ragged.” Hosea plopped down next to her. “I’m gonna take a nap myself.” He picked up the newspaper. “So what did you do while we were out?”

  “Not much. Was just thinking.”

  “About what?” He sighed. “Or should I even ask?”

  She paused. “I’ve decided to go to Los Angeles with you.”

  He nodded slowly. “Well, that’s a good thing.”

  “And I’m taking Mrs. Sloss.” Jasmine expected Hosea to ask her why she would need their nanny since she wouldn’t be working. But watching Natasia was going to be a full-time job.

  “That’s fine.” He grinned. “Is there any particular reason for this change?” he asked, though through his smirk, Jasmine was sure he knew her reasons why.

  “Only that I couldn’t stand the thought of missing you.” She kissed his cheek, then pushed herself up. “You said you needed a nap; I think I want one, too.”

  He tossed the newspaper to the floor. “I’m right behind you.”

  She took a few steps, then stopped. “We’re staying at the Fairmont, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Make sure that Natasia is not in that hotel.” Before he could say a word, she added, “That’s not open for discussion.” Only then did she smile. And take his hand leading him into their bedroom.

  EIGHT

  HOSEA STOOD AT THE OPEN door for a moment. Natasia’s head was bent low, her eyes focused on whatever she was reading. Every inch of her desk was covered with pads, folders, binders.

  The ends of his lips turned upward. This was the Natasia he remembered, the woman he’d loved. They’d worked together, played together. Lived together, loved together. It was the last thought that kept him standing there. It was the memories of their bedroom romps as the midday sun burned through the windows of their fifteenth-floor Lake Shore Drive apartment that kept him staring.

  “Hey, you.”

  Her voice tugged him away from Chicago. Brought him crashing back to New York. He hadn’t noticed that she had looked up and was now staring at him.

  He cleared his throat and his thoughts; strolled into her office. He sat, and she rose from her chair. Leaned across her desk toward him. His eyes strayed from her face, her lips. Moved to take in the curves of her body that weren’t hidden beneath her lavender dress. He inhaled and memories of her rushed back.

  Her chuckle was deep and low as if she knew his thoughts. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and sauntered around to where he sat. Perching herself on the edge of the desk, she crossed her legs and both of them watched her hemline rise.

  “Was there anything you wanted?” she asked.

  “No.” He forced his eyes back to her face. “I mean, yes. We’re going to lunch, right?”

  “Oh, sweetie,” she started, making Hosea raise his eyebrows. She chuckled. Held up her hands. “Sorry. Old habit.” She started again, “Hosea…I was going to call you. I’m still inundated with these files.”

  “No problem.” He stood, turned toward the door. “We can do lunch…whenever.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” She grabbed his hand. “You’re not getting away that easily. Let’s do dinner.”

  He shook his head, and then noticed she was still holding his hand. He pulled away.

  She said, “Dinner would be much better because I’m in the middle of all of this and I don’t want to stop.”

  “Keep going. We’ll do lunch tomorrow.”

  “That won’t work.” She grabbed her desk calendar. “I’m meeting with Steve tomorrow.” She pouted. “Getting together with you is not all pleasure. I have so many questions.”

  “They’re lots of people here who can help.”

  “But I trust you.” When he added nothing more, she sighed. “All right. I’ll just pick up after lunch. It’ll be harder. I was on a roll—”

  He held up his hand. “Okay, we’ll do an early dinner.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” This time there was no apology for that term of endearment.

  He said, “I’ll make reservations. How’s six?”

  “Eight would be good. Nine would be better.”

  “I’ll make reservations for seven.” Even though Jasmine was used to these last-minute dinner meetings, he added, “I need to get home.”

  “Okay.”

  Hosea stepped into the hallway and with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, he rushed into his office. Wondered about this dinner. Thought about all he’d been remembering. Decided that this was all about nothing—just a recollection of history.

  He reached for the telephone, but then pulled back. He needed a moment. A little time before he called his wife to tell her that he wouldn’t be home for dinner.

  The flood gates opened and Hosea was submerged beneath the memories…

  “Minister Bush.”

  Hosea turned around and his heart bumped harder against his chest.

  “Hello.” The woman held out her hand. “I’m Natasia Redding. I just wanted to add my welcome to all that you’ve received.” She smiled, her hand still dangling in the air. When Hosea finally grasped her hand, she said, “Welcome to Crystal Lake Cathedral.”

  It took Hosea a moment to say “Thanks.”

  She glanced down at their hands, still together.

  He pulled away, even though he didn’t want to. He could hold her hand forever. He searched his mind for more words, but he couldn’t think of anything.

  She came to his rescue. “I work with the audiovisual team, so if there’s anything I can do to help you get settled, let me know.”

  Again, he wanted to say more than “Thanks.”

  Again, she was the one to free him from the silence. “You know what,” she began, “do you have any time now? There’s something I’d like to ask you. And if you’re free…we could do brunch.”

  Hosea wanted to turn around to see who was watching. Surely, this was some kind of ministerial hazing. Why would this woman who should be gracing the cover of fashion magazines ask him to go out on his first Sunday at the church? But within the hour, he was sitting across from her at Oceanique.

  “Are yo
u from Chicago?” he asked.

  “Lived here all my life,” she said between bites of her pasta. “Only left once—to study in London.”

  “College?”

  “Kind of. I went to undergrad here at the University of Chicago. Then I went to Oxford.”

  “Ah.” Hosea sat back. “A Rhodes Scholar.”

  She shrugged, as if she were embarrassed.

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be.”

  But he already was. Beauty and brains. And, she was a Christian, wasn’t she? His hope was rising. He asked, “How long have you been going to Crystal Lake Cathedral?”

  “A couple of years. When my fiancé moved to Chicago…”

  It was hard to listen to more after the word “fiancé” sucked the air from his hope.

  “Your fiancé?”

  She nodded. “I’m engaged.”

  Only then did he notice. The ring. It was an itty-bitty thing. Too small to sparkle or shine. A man trying to claim this woman as his own should have covered her with diamonds. At least that’s what he would have done.

  She said, “I wanted to talk about your newspaper.”

  That’s what this is about.

  “I’m a producer on the NBC morning show and I’ve been looking for projects for our cable stations.”

  For the next hour, she told him her thoughts of using the newspaper The Christian Times, where he was editor, as the format for a talk show. But he’d had difficulty concentrating as he watched her lips move.

  Why are you engaged? was what he wanted to ask her.

  Finally, he agreed to give her proposal some thought.

  Outside the restaurant, she handed him her card. “I’ll be looking to hear from you.”

  He hailed a cab, held the door while she slid inside, then he watched the car roll away before he walked in the opposite direction. It was good that only God knew his thoughts.

  But something had come out of that brunch. It had been five years since his mother had passed and for most of that time, he’d lived as a monk.

  Then today, Natasia had stirred thoughts and feelings that he’d almost forgotten. Maybe God was telling him to get back into this game called life, and Natasia was God’s messenger…

  “I’m ready if you are.”

  Hosea turned from the window and his memories. Automatically smiled when he looked at her. It may have been the end of the workday, but Natasia looked as fresh as the morning. Her lips gleamed with gloss and she glowed as if she’d just come from the beach.

  He glanced at his watch. “It’s only five-thirty.”

  “I finished early and thought we could have drinks before dinner. So,” she continued as she moved toward him, “I made reservations and ordered a car.”

  “We could’ve caught a cab.”

  Natasia sighed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Oh, I’m very different.” He made sure he was looking into her eyes. “I’m a husband and a father now.”

  She paused, nodded slightly. “But in every other way, you’re the same.” His face spread with surprise when she adjusted his shirt collar. “You’re a star now, sweetie. You should act like one.”

  Gently, he pushed her hands away. “Natasia, you cannot call me sweetie.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “It’s not professional.”

  He shook his head, then moved toward the door. “I made reservations at the Bistro.”

  “Would you mind if we changed that? I made reservations at Tavern on the Green,” she said, brushing past him. “I’ve never been there.”

  He followed her into the hall. Tavern on the Green—it was just a restaurant.

  “Good evening, Mr. Bush.”

  “How’re you doing?” Hosea asked as the young man poured water into their glasses. He grabbed his menu and studied his choices even though he almost knew this menu by heart. Taking a quick glance at Natasia, he wondered if she knew this was the place where he and Jasmine had their wedding reception.

  “So, the fact that the staff is calling you by name means that you’ve been here before, huh?” Natasia grinned.

  “Yes, quite a bit.” He put down his menu. “In fact, this is where Jasmine and I celebrated after our wedding.”

  She stared at him. Said nothing at first. Then, “So, what’s good here?” as if anything that had to do with his marriage was not worth mentioning.

  He let a moment go by. “Just about everything. Guess it depends on your mood.”

  Without looking up, she said, “I’m in the mood for a lot of things. But I’ll settle for the seafood cocktail and a salad.”

  Hosea gave their orders to the waiter and when they were alone, she asked, “I guess we’re having the early dinner that you wanted.”

  “Yeah.” He spread the napkin across his lap. “Like I said, I want to get home to my family.”

  “A few drinks wouldn’t have stopped you from going home.” She gave him a half-smile. “Or would they?”

  It was hard to turn away from her gaze. “I don’t drink.”

  “I haven’t forgotten that.” She leaned on the table, closer to him. “I haven’t forgotten anything.”

  Hosea cleared his throat. “So how have your first few days been?” he asked, taking them straight back to business.

  “Great. I love New York, but I’m looking forward to L.A. I think that’s going to breathe new life into the show.”

  He nodded. “I still can’t believe we’ll be working together.”

  “Believe it. The network wanted a top producer and I’m one of the best.”

  “The best and so modest.” Just like I remember.

  She shrugged. “Tell the truth, shame the devil.”

  He chuckled. “I just never imagined that our paths would cross like this.”

  “Really?” She took a long sip of water and then leaned back in her chair. “Come on, Hosea. You didn’t think I’d give up that easily, did you?”

  He raised his eyebrows. Was this an admission that this reunion had been planned? “Give up? You sound as if there’s something you can get back.”

  Her lips curled into that smile that he remembered. That smile that used to melt him. The waiter broke through their silence, laying their plates in front of them.

  Natasia reached for her fork, but Hosea took her hand, bowed his head.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  He began. “Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. Lord, we thank you for this food we’re about to receive. May it be used for the nourishment of our bodies in order for us to do Your will. We give You thanks for this meal and for so much more. In the name that is above all other names, Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen.”

  Even when they opened their eyes, she held onto his hand until he pulled away. And he turned right back to business. “So, where were you working when they found you?”

  “At NBC. On the nightly news, and I was producing some specials.”

  “And winning Emmys.”

  “Seven over the years, but who’s counting.” She slipped a shrimp to the edge of her mouth, sucked on the cocktail sauce. “I’m most proud of the Emmy I got for my series on adoption in Africa.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know that was you.”

  “It was me. All me. From the idea straight through to production. I even got to take a couple of trips to Africa and now I’m on the list to adopt.”

  “Really?” He grinned. “That’s terrific.”

  She nodded. “It’s been a while, though. Lots of bureaucracy. And since I’m not an actor rolling in the bucks…”

  “I’m sure it’ll happen.”

  “Let’s hope.” She raised her glass and took a sip of wine.

  “So, winning Emmys, planning on becoming a mother…you have quite a full life.”

  “You sound surprised. As if you thought I’d fall apart without you.”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all. I knew you’d be fine.”

  “Is tha
t why you walked away leaving me only a note?” Her smile was gone—from her face and her tone.

  He hesitated. Wondered if he should take them back to business. Finally, “That’s not what happened.”

  “That’s what I remember. I came home from that business trip and you were gone. The only thing left was that note on the kitchen table.”

  “You knew I was moving out.”

  “That wasn’t supposed to be for another two weeks.”

  “I got a chance to get that apartment.”

  “And it couldn’t wait?”

  “No.”

  She pushed her plate away. Looked him straight in the eye. “That was a coward’s way. You never even said good-bye.”

  He took a moment to think. “I did what I thought was best.”

  “No you didn’t. You left then because you couldn’t face me. You knew that if I was there, you’d never be able to walk away.”

  He shook his head. “I wanted the break to be easy.”

  She laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. “How could breaking up ever be easy? Especially with the way I loved you.” She reached across the table, but he left her hand alone. “I thought you loved me, too.”

  This was supposed to be a meeting between colleagues. But a while ago, they were so much more, and because of that, Hosea knew this conversation had to happen.

  “I did love you, Natasia. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me.”

  “But then, you took it back,” she said, as if she was still shocked by their break-up. “And I just want to know why.”

  “Why are we going over this again?”

  “Because even after five years, I still don’t understand.”

  He shook his head, spoke softly. “We weren’t meant to be.”

  “No matter how many times you say that, it doesn’t make sense. Not with the way we were.”

  He nodded slowly. There was a time when he couldn’t understand it himself. Even now he couldn’t explain it in clear English. For four years they walked the path that both were sure would lead to marriage.

  And then it was over.

  She was right; it didn’t make sense.

  Except—it was God. God spoke to his heart. Told him she was not the one. He had wrestled with God, at first. Refused to listen. But finally, he’d done what he had to do.