Lady Jasmine Read Online Free PDF Page B

wasn’t thrilled.
    “I love that you’re in my corner.”
    “I love you, Hosea. I’ll always be here for you. And for your father, too.”
    That was the truth. She still couldn’t believe what had happened to Reverend Bush. Her plan was to send up as many prayers as she could for him to recover quickly.
    But there was no need for Reverend Bush to rush it. When he came out of the coma, he would need care and time to heal. She and Hosea would be there for him. Definitely. But he could take his time getting well.
    And maybe Reverend Bush would be so proud of Hosea thathe would retire and let his son take over permanently.
    Oh, yes, he would be proud of both of them because she was going to rock her position as the new first lady.
    She couldn’t wait to get started.

SIX
    H OSEA EASED THE CAR INTO the parking lot, then hesitated before he squeezed into the space next to the one reserved for the senior pastor.
    After he helped Jasmine from the car, they moved slowly across the graveled lot, for the first time walking in the path where Reverend Bush almost died. She kept her eyes toward the church, not wanting to look down, not wanting to see any remnant of what had happened here on Saturday night.
    But her imagination churned, and she could envision the police cars arriving, their flashing red lights breaking through the dark. She could hear the sirens of the emergency units speeding to the rescue. She could picture Brother Hill kneeling beside Reverend Bush, trembling with panic and dread and fear.
    She glanced sideways and could tell that Hosea shared her thoughts. Her heart ached for him, and she squeezed his hand. But even though she knew that her husband hurt, she knew just as well that this was where they were supposed to be—following in the same steps that Reverend Bush had walked almost every day of the thirty years he’d led City of Lights. They were on their way to securing his legacy, fulfilling his will.
    It was a deep breath that she released when they finallystepped into the church, and as they approached the conference room, the melancholy that had overtaken her was nudged aside by her rising joy. But she pressed down her delight; she couldn’t very well walk into the executive board meeting with a smile while her father-in-law was fighting to stay alive.
    The board members were sitting around the conference table, their voices low, their faces grave.
    “Good evening,” Hosea said the moment they stepped inside.
    Jasmine was glad that she was still holding on to her husband—or else the cold stares would have knocked her over.
    Only her godbrother Malik smiled, stood, and gave her a hug.
    “Uh, Hosea.” Brother Hill pushed himself from his chair. His eyes moved between Hosea and Jasmine.
    But before he could say anything more, Pastor Wyatt piped in, “Hosea, this is a closed meeting.”
    Hosea raised his eyebrows. “And?”
    “That means,” Pastor Wyatt spoke slowly, as if Hosea had a comprehension problem, “only board members are invited. You’re a member,” his eyes shifted to Jasmine, “but your wife isn’t.”
    “And your wife isn’t.” Hosea gave a nod and a smile to Enid Wyatt, who was sitting against the wall behind her husband.
    “But my wife…this is a special occasion,” Pastor Wyatt explained.
    As Hosea held out a chair for Jasmine, he said, “Then you can understand my wife being here with me.”
    Pastor Wyatt looked around at the others, and Jasmine followed his glance to the side of the table where Brother Hill, Sister Whittingham, and Jerome Viceroy, a Harlem city councilman who was responsible for community outreach for City of Lights, sat together. On the other side, Pastor Wyatt was in between Malik, Brother Stevens, and Sister Clinton, the presidents of the Men’s and Women’s Auxiliary, and Sister Pearline, the head of the Silver Saints.
    Malik and Sister Pearline wore welcoming smiles; the rest glared at her as if there was no way she should be sitting in the