Grown Folks Business (14 page)

Tori asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Dad’s a—”

“Christopher!” Sheridan stopped him, glad that she was behind the wheel of a car. Otherwise, she was sure, she would have beaten him down.

No more words were spoken. When Sheridan pulled in front of the house, she shot Christopher a warning glance, and she was more than glad when he rushed into the house, leaving her and Tori alone.

Tori got out of the car, closed the door, and then waited for her mother.

What am I supposed to say?

Sheridan took her time, stuffing the church bulletin inside her Bible, pushing her cell phone inside her purse, and finally tucking her heart back inside her chest.

She turned to the door and pretended she was surprised. “You didn’t have to wait for me, Tori.”

“Mom, are you mad at me?”

“Ofcourse not, sweetheart.”

“Well, Christopher is and I don’t know why. You and Dad are getting a divorce, right?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeated, not answering the question.

Tori sighed when they stepped into the house. “Ms. Francesca just kept asking me, and I didn’t know what to tell her.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart.”

“Mom?”

Sheridan kept her back to Tori, knowing this was the moment.

“Christopher said Daddy is a faggot.”

What am I supposed to say?

“What did he mean?”

If she had no sense, she would have sent Tori to Christopher. Let him explain it; let him tell his sister how Quentin had betrayed them all. But she loved her daughter too much to send her into Christopher’s den.

She turned and made her mind strong. “There are some things your Dad and I want to talk to you about. I’m going to call him and see if he can come over, okay?”

It worked better than she thought. The idea of seeing Quentin seemed to take Tori’s mind away from her question. “Okay.” She turned to the steps and ran upstairs. “Let me know when he gets here.”

Sheridan almost collapsed from relief when she heard Tori’s door close.

This was the beginning. The world was colliding with their lives. Soon everyone would know what Tori had been told.

Sheridan picked up the phone and uttered the words that almost felt like a habit. “Quentin, we have a problem,” she said when he answered.

For the second day in a row, Quentin entered the house that had once been his home. His eyes drooped, his cheeks sagged; he looked as weary as she felt.

In the living room she said, “Maybe you should move back home.”

He looked at her with surprise.

“Just kidding,” she whispered. “Just trying to lighten this mood.” She sighed. “This whole separation thing is not going well, Quentin.” She slumped onto the couch.

“I knew we should have said something to Tori.”

“I never thought Christopher would say anything. Especially not the way he did.” She shook her head, still unable to believe her son’s words.

“Where’s Tori now?”

“In her bedroom.”

“And Chris?”

“He asked if he could meet some friends back at church.” Sheridan didn’t mention she’d had a small battle with Christopher when she asked why he missed church. He’d told her that he hadn’t. That he’d been sitting in the back and Tori didn’t see him. Sheridan wanted to quiz him more, find out what he was up to. But right now, her attention had to be on Tori. “I thought it would be best if he weren’t here.”

She was disappointed when Quentin seemed relieved. He used to be the strong one, the disciplinarian when the children needed it. He never backed away from anything. He faced everything. The Quentin of old.

“Are you ready to talk to her?” she asked.

Quentin nodded. “But let me speak to her by myself.”

She was already shaking her head. “Why?” Sheridan frowned.

“Because this is something I need to do—father to daughter.”

But you’re not a real father anymore.
“Fine, but I need to be there. Tori’s going to need me when she hears this, Quentin.”

“That’s the problem. If you’re in the room, she’ll turn to you. I want her to turn to me. I want her to know that no matter what is going on, no matter what names someone calls me, I still love her, will protect her, and will be there for her.”

“And how will my being in the room stop that?”

Quentin shrugged. “I’m playing a hunch. Don’t worry. I’m going to tell her that I’m with Jett, but on a level that a nine-year-old can understand.”

Her head was still shaking her objection.

“Please, Sheridan. All I’m going to say is that although I still love you, God put love in my heart for someone else too. And that just happened to be a man.”

She wanted to tell him not to blame God, but she left it alone. She looked at her watch. “I’ll give you five minutes.”

It was his turn to frown. “What’s with the time limit? I’m going to give Tori all the time she needs.”

Sheridan knew he was right, but how could she let her daughter hear this news without her?

“Don’t worry, Sheridan,” he tried to assure her. “Remember I love our children as much as you do.”

If that were true, we wouldn’t be in this situation.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “I promise you this will be fine.”

Why should I believe a promise from you? You said we’d be together until death.

Sheridan nodded, giving in. But the moment Quentin trotted up the steps and entered Tori’s room, she ran behind him. She pressed one ear to Tori’s door and then cursed the builder of their home. Solid walls, solid doors. She could barely hear their murmurs. Just proved they’d received their four hundred thousand dollars’ worth.

Sheridan paced in front of Tori’s room and tried to ignore the voices in her head. The ones that screamed she was deserting her daughter.

He left his family. He can’t be trusted.

But then the other side of her spoke.

He’s her father. He’ll never say anything that will hurt her.

It was the part of her that wanted to preserve the relationship between Quentin and Tori that won, but Sheridan stayed close. When she tired of pacing, she sat, leaned against the wall, and kept her eyes on the door. The minutes were too long for her.

When almost thirty minutes had passed, she knocked on the door and stepped inside.

“Hi, Mom,” Tori said, but she didn’t look up. “I think I’m gonna win. This will be the first time I ever beat Dad.”

Quentin and Tori sat on on her bed, with a chessboard between them.

“Don’t distract me, Tori. You haven’t won yet,” Quentin said.

The two laughed and Sheridan frowned. She looked for signs of trauma—redness around her daughter’s eyes, grief sketched on her husband’s face. But there was nothing.

“Quentin?”

He glanced up, then straightened his back. “Oh, it’s okay, Sheridan. Tori and I talked. We’re good.” He turned his attention back to his daughter. “Right?”

Tori nodded as she finally looked at Sheridan. “Dad told me about Mr. Jett. It’s okay.”

Then the two of them turned back to the chessboard, as if she weren’t there. As if they hadn’t just had a conversation about one of them being gay.

Sheridan left the two of them alone. She stood still in the hallway, washed in shock. But then relief took its place, and she began to understand. Tori possessed something that she didn’t have. Nor did Christopher. Tori possessed the ability to love unconditionally.

Sheridan shook her head as she stepped down the stairs. She needed to have a talk with her daughter. Her nine-year-old could teach her something.

“S
heridan, it’s Pastor Ford.”

“Hello, Pastor,” she said.
Dang,
she thought. Once again she vowed to purchase a phone with caller ID for the kitchen. “How are you?”

“I’m just fine. I was wondering if you had a moment to drop by the church this morning.”

Sheridan frowned. She was mad at herself. If she’d gone to church last week, she was sure she wouldn’t have received this call. But after the encounter with Dana, Sheridan couldn’t bring herself to go back. Still, she should have known this day was coming. “I thought today was your day off,” Sheridan finally said.

“It is, but that doesn’t have anything to do with my wanting to see you.”

Sheridan paused. There was no way she could walk into the pastor’s office. She’d seen it too many times: Pastor Ford would take one look at a person and know everything going on in her life—including what she’d had for breakfast.

But on the other side, Pastor Ford had always been there—during the best and worst of her life—as the Harts’ spiritual leader, to guide, console, correct, and love. There was nothing she needed more right now than some of Pastor Ford’s love.

“Can I come in at ten?”

“I’ll see you at nine thirty,” Pastor Ford said.

“Yes, Pastor.” There was no doubt in Sheridan’s mind; somehow Pastor Ford knew. Through one of the loudmouths in the church or through a whisper from God. Either way, she knew.

While she dressed, Sheridan volleyed thoughts in her mind: should she tell her pastor the whole story?

As she drove to the church, she still hadn’t decided. As she walked to the doors, she still wrestled with her thoughts. As she stepped up to Etta-Marie, Pastor Ford’s assistant, and hugged her, Sheridan gave up the struggle. She wasn’t going to confess a thing.

Within seconds of Etta-Marie’s announcing Sheridan’s arrival, Pastor Ford swept into her outer office. It was clear that she was there just for this meeting. Wearing a gold velour pants suit, with her hair brushed away from her face, the pastor looked like she was about to work out—except for her face, perfectly made-up as if she were prepared for an
Essence
photo shoot.

Pastor Ford motioned toward the wingback chairs, and Sheridan sank into the soft leather.

“So, Pastor,” she said with false cheer, “what did you want to see me about?” She smiled as if there was nothing new in her life.

“How are you, Sheridan?”

“Fine.”

Without taking a breath, Pastor Ford said, “How are you and Quentin?”

“Fine,” she lied again, and said a short prayer that God’s wrath wouldn’t crack through the ceiling, punishing her for her dishonesty.

Pastor Ford leaned forward. “Sheridan, if there is one thing I don’t believe in it’s—”

A liar.

“—gossip,” Pastor Ford continued. “But I’ve heard rumors that concern me, and couple that with not seeing you and Quentin for weeks…that’s why I asked you to come in.”

“I was in church last week.” Even to Sheridan it was a pitiful statement, stonewalling nothing.

“Sheridan, not only am I your pastor, but I’m your friend. I want to help.”

Those words were the key, and Sheridan unlocked the door. With tears, she escorted Pastor Ford into the emotional dungeon where she’d resided for the past weeks.

“I cannot imagine a rejection worse than this, Pastor,” Sheridan sobbed as she finished telling the pastor everything.

Pastor Ford reached for her tissue box and dabbed Sheridan’s tears.

“I’m a woman being tossed aside for a man,” Sheridan cried. “And the worst part is I can’t imagine what I did to make Quentin do this.”

“Sheridan, this has nothing to do with you. This is about Quentin and his decisions.”

“I keep telling myself that, but…”

Pastor Ford exhaled what seemed to be a chest full of air. “Well, this wasn’t what I expected.”

“You said you heard rumors.”

“Yes, but the talk was Quentin left. That’s all.” The pastor paused and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe the news. She stood at the window. “Sheridan,” she started, keeping her gaze on the scene outside, “this other…man. Is it someone from the church?”

Sheridan stared at the pastor.
Where did that come from?
“Yes.” Sheridan paused. About three months earlier Jett had stopped attending Hope Chapel. Sheridan hadn’t asked why; she’d just assumed that the church was too far from the new home he’d purchased in Encino. Sheridan added, “It’s someone who used to go to church here.”

Pastor Ford’s face washed with sadness.

The pastor didn’t ask, but Sheridan said, “Jett Jennings.”

A mournful groan filled the room as the pastor sank into her chair. “Sheridan, I’m so sorry.”

Sheridan frowned. The pastor spoke as if somehow this was her fault. And then the memory rushed back—of the day Pastor Ford introduced Jett Jennings to the congregation and then made a personal introduction to the Harts.

“Sheridan, I want to see you and Quentin, together.”

Sheridan shook her head. “There’s nothing you can do, Pastor. Quentin has already moved in with Jett. And I’ve done everything I can to get over the loss and the anger. I’m trying my best to move on.” She paused. “Besides that, it’s too late anyway.”

“It is never too late. Quentin loves you. And more importantly, I know he loves the Lord. If Quentin will just pause and listen, he’ll hear God’s voice. He can turn back. Give me his number.”

Pastor Ford jotted Quentin’s number on a pad. “When’s a good time for you?”

“I’m available anytime.” Sheridan was surprised by the hope in her own voice. What was she wishing for? She had slammed shut that hope chest in her heart and wanted it to stay that way. It was over. Quentin had told her so. She stood. “Pastor, thank you for always caring about me.”

Pastor Ford hugged her. “Sheridan, I love you. And Quentin. And Christopher and Tori. There is no way I can not become involved in this. Quentin was this church’s Man of the Year and I know who he is in the Lord. I don’t know what this is about, but I know it’s not of God. And I’m going to remind Quentin of that.”

Sheridan nodded. She turned to leave, but then the pastor reached for her hand. “Before you leave, I want to pray for you.”

She bowed her head and tried to listen to Pastor Ford’s appeal to God for Sheridan to be blanketed with peace and for the scales to fall from Quentin’s eyes. But Sheridan couldn’t get her pastor’s other words from her mind.

“He’ll hear God’s voice. He can turn back.”

Could there be a chance that Quentin would admit his mistake? Was there a chance that he would come home?

For the first time since he’d walked out the door, the prospect of his returning seemed real. But now a larger issue loomed before her. Her husband left her. For a man. After all the tears, all the heartache, did she really want him back?

The stalker waltzed through her mind with his images. Quentin with Jett. Holding hands. Caressing. Kissing.

“Amen,” Pastor Ford said. When Sheridan opened her eyes, they were filled with tears.

Pastor Ford hugged her again. “My prayer is Quentin will be home very soon.”

Sheridan nodded because she didn’t have it in her to tell Pastor Ford the truth. The truth that no matter what epiphany Quentin experienced, she could never see herself in bed with him again.