The Eleventh Commandment Read online

  She nodded, and it was all the encouragement he needed. He made them one with one fell swoop, buried himself deep inside her wet, pulsating warmth, guided her legs around his waist, and plundered her mouth while he plundered her sex. Hope gave as good as she got, rotating her hips to make sure that no area of her pleasure went untouched. “Ooh, baby, you feel. So. Good.”

  “It’s you,” Cy countered, pulling out so that his throbbing head pulsed against her sensitive spot, just the way he knew she liked it.

  “Oh, baby! I’m coming!” Hope screamed her pleasure, surprised at how quickly she’d reached her peak, and how ready she was for yet another round. “I love you.” Her legs shook as he gently placed her feet on the floor, showering kisses on her face. Her breath came in short, deep spurts as she tried to regain her equilibrium. No one could get her discombobulated as quickly as her husband, a fact that he proved again in short order. Her breath returning to normal, she lay her head against her husband’s wet shoulder. “You’re too good to me,” she whispered.

  Cy’s chuckle was that of a secure brother who knew he’d just given his woman the ultimate pleasure “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  After making quick work of their shower, with Cy using his tongue as effectively as he used the sponge, and then applying lotion to his wife’s body before she returned the favor, they retired to the custom made king-sized bed that anchored the master space. Hope climbed into the middle of the bed, knowing that that was exactly where her husband wanted her. After another, more leisurely round of love-making, Hope snuggled into Cy’s embrace as they lay spoon style.

  “Thank you, baby,” she said.

  Cy yawned as he asked, “For what?”

  “For loving me so completely and unconditionally. I don’t want to ever take what we have for granted.”

  “Me either, love.”

  “I did once, you know. When I was so obsessed with getting pregnant, making your life miserable with my crazy paranoia.”

  “If I remember correctly, someone was already pregnant and dealing with some serious hormonal fluctuations.”

  “I know but—”

  “Uh-uh. No buts. Those days are behind us. Let’s just enjoy what we have right now.”

  “You’re right.” She turned to face him, lightly kissed his lips. “I love you, Cy.”

  “I love you, too.”

  It was true. Cy adored her, not only as his wife, best friend and confidante, but also as the mother of his children. Which is why no one was more surprised than he when during those last seconds of wakefulness his mind was not on Hope, but rather on Trisha Underwood . . . his long lost love.

  9

  No Friend Like an Old Friend

  The next morning Hope figured that her husband was as ravenous as she was. They’d made love almost all night long, recreating their favorite positions like it was the first time they’d been together instead of a couple that had been married for many years spending just three days apart. Cooking for him was almost as satisfying as making love, and she hummed as she placed the fruit salad she’d just prepared in the refrigerator and pulled out farm-fresh eggs and extra-sharp cheddar cheese for the vegetable omelet on the menu. In a nod to both of their vows for healthier eating, several slices of organic turkey bacon lay on a grill pan, ready for the broiler. When she heard footsteps on the stairs, she poured a glass of grapefruit juice and placed it next to a setting where two superfood capsules lay waiting to be consumed.

  “Good morning!” She took in her handsome husband, dressed in a casual tan suit, mandarin-styled shirt with no tie, and loafers, and once again thanked God for the life in which she’d been blessed. “Do you want toast or English muffins?”

  “Toast, please.” Cy walked over to kiss his wife, checking his smartphone for messages as he did so. “Somebody’s responsible for my late start today. I need to leave here in about half an hour.”

  “Well, whoever that somebody is needs a spanking.” She turned as if to prove her point, dressed in white boy shorts, a cropped white tee, and barefoot.

  “Woman, don’t tempt me. I’ve got a full day ahead.”

  “Ha!” Hope added fresh vegetables to the frothy egg and cheese mixture and within minutes placed two piping hot plates on the table. After pouring her juice and topping off Cy’s glass, she joined an obviously hungry man who was devouring his food.

  “This is good, baby.”

  Hope laughed. “I can tell.”

  “Used a lot of calories last night.”

  Hope cocked an eyebrow. “God be praised.”

  “Ha!”

  “We never did get around to talking about New York.,” she began after taking a few bites. “How was your trip to one of my favorite cities?”

  “Very good,” Cy said, with a nod. “And somewhat interesting.”

  “Really? How so?”

  Cy told her about the interesting proposition he’d gotten regarding partnering on some property in Harlem and also near where the World Trade Center used to stand, a space now occupied by the newly finished Freedom Tower. “And then there was the e-mail I received from an old classmate.”

  “From high school or college?”

  “College.”

  Hope finished her bite of omelet and reached for her mug of tea before sitting back against the breakfast booth. “What did he want?”

  Cy hesitated only a second before correcting her. “It was a she, e-mailing about our fifteen-year reunion coming up.”

  “That isn’t really so unusual, babe. I remember months ago seeing a Facebook post about our high school reunion. I naturally started thinking about people I’d gone to school with and what they were doing now. Maybe that’s what happened with her.”

  “Maybe so, but there’s a little more to it than that, love.” Cy finished off a piece of bacon, reached for the napkin and wiped his mouth. “We dated.”

  “Oh.” The way Hope held out the two-letter word showed that she fully understand what this meant. She’d just spent a night with one of the most talented dicks in the world and knew that any woman who’d encountered it had never forgotten its skills. “So you think this old flame is trying to stoke the fire that kept me warm all last night?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. The e-mail was pretty straightforward, saying she’d gotten my e-mail address from a mutual friend who’s on Facebook, and wanted to know how I was.” He flipped through his e-mails and showed her what had been written.

  Hope read it quickly. “Trisha, huh? So just how special was she all those years ago?”

  Cy shrugged. Later, he’d ponder on why he’d hedged the question. But in this moment he was only interested in moving on to the next topic before leaving for his office near San Diego. “She and I dated for most of our college years, before one of her supposed friends set me up.”

  “Set you up? With someone other than Trisha?”

  “She set me up to sleep with her knowing that Trisha would find out.”

  “So Trisha found out and dumped you?”

  “It sounds pretty harsh being described like that but, yes, in a nutshell that’s what happened.”

  “You’ve got to respect someone who values herself.”

  “True.”

  “So how do you feel about hearing from her after all these years?” Hope asked.

  “I don’t know. A bit curious, I guess, wondering how life has treated her after all this time.”

  “So you responded?”

  “Yes,” Cy replied with a nod. “And she replied. Turns out she lives in New York and I told her that I happened to be in her city. But I didn’t hear from her again before I left so ... who knows if anything will even come of this.”

  “Her correspondence doesn’t make you want to attend the reunion?”

  “It’s put the event on my mind, no doubt. But I haven’t been to one in ten years.” Cy leaned over and kissed his wife. “Who knows, it may be time to check another one out, show off my trophy wife.”

  They f
inished breakfast and by the time Cy left for his city office, the twins were off for a romp in the nearby park before having their Spanish lessons with Rosie. Hope knew she’d have at least two uninterrupted hours of quiet time. She didn’t intend to waste them. She’d just gone into her office, fired up her computer, and put a name into the search engine when her home phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Hope.”

  “Hey, Vivian!” Hope always loved hearing from Vivian Montgomery, first lady of Kingdom Citizens Christian Center, Hope’s church home. She oftentimes thought this pastor’s wife whose husband oversaw a megaministry had a sixth sense when it came to knowing one’s need for having a sistah-girl conversation.

  “You sound chipper this morning. Any particular reason for the good mood?”

  “Cy was in New York for a couple days. He came home last night.”

  “Ah.” Vivian’s one-word response held a lifetime of marital understanding. “Well, I won’t keep you. Are you busy right now?”

  “Not really. Just doing a little investigative work.”

  “Oh? Do I want to know why?”

  “Probably not, but I want to tell you anyway. Her name is Trisha Underwood. She’s a former college mate of Cy’s from New York, who contacted him while he visited there. She reached out on the pretense of discussing their fifteen-year reunion, but you know how skeptical I can be when it comes to Cy and women.”

  “Our minds may take it there a time or two too often, but our intuition never lies. What have you found on her?”

  “I just started, but so far, nothing really. An article or two about some social organization with which she’s involved, and her participation in the alumni association at Howard University.”

  “Any pictures?”

  Hope smiled, thankful for the woman who’d counseled her through a variety of ups and downs. Vivian was a Christian who kept it real, whom you could talk to without censoring your thoughts or words, a woman who not only believed in enjoying every aspect of marriage, but made sure that she was taking care of all of her husband’s needs. “You know me too well,” she said at last.

  “No, I know what I’d be looking for.” The smile on Vivian’s face was evident in her voice.

  “Several images came up under the name, but none of them were connected to the stories I think are tied to Cy’s classmate.”

  “Do you feel that there is anything to worry about?”

  Hope’s answer was quick and unequivocal. “No. They exchanged a couple e-mails but that was it. For all I know, she’s one of the coordinators reaching out to everybody, not just Cy, especially since Cy hasn’t seen her for fifteen years, since he graduated.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Hope switched from the screen containing Outlook to her Facebook account. “What about life in Beverly Hills? How is Derrick doing?”

  “He’s fine, thanks for asking. We continue to take it one day at a time, and his last doctor appointment showed no return of the tumor. In fact, the doctor feels that Derrick is healthier than he’s ever been.”

  Everyone even remotely connected with Vivian and Derrick’s church knew that the past year had been quite challenging. Derrick had faced a major illness that attempted to derail his ministerial career, and even though Hope and Cy were an hour away and not nearly as active in the church as they’d once been, they were still very involved with the ministry. It’s where they continued to tithe and where they tried to worship at least once or twice a month. Other Sundays were spent at Open Arms, a church in San Diego led by their neighbor, Jack Kirtz, with help from his capable first lady wife, Millicent. And then other mornings Hope and Cy worshipped God in unusual ways, such as by taking their children to the beach or the park, and thanking God for nature’s workmanship that they enjoyed.

  “I’m so glad to hear that, Vivian.” Hope looked at the clock, noted that time was passing faster than she’d like, and that she still had several things she wanted to accomplish before preparing the children’s lunch. “What can I do for you, sis?”

  “I’m calling about the e-mail I sent you last month. About the specifics of the Sanctity of Sisterhood’s The Woman I Am Summit happening this fall.”

  “Yes, I received the material. Just by the title I’m liking it already.”

  “Thanks, Hope. Even though this is a minisummit, since it’s regional and lasting only one and a half days, I want it to pack as much punch as our full-blown ones. It’s going to be a mini-KCCC reunion of sorts: you, Millicent, and a few other ex-members who’ve relocated and I haven’t seen in awhile. Since I know you keep in constant contact with your cousin, I’m hoping that she and Stacy will also be able to participate. If possible, a highlight of the final service would be an appearance by our former minister of music and Stacy’s baby daddy, but I know his schedule stays booked.”

  “I’ll be talking to Stacy later today and will definitely mention it. No promises on whether or not Darius can show up, but hey . . . nothing beats a failure but a try.”

  “I’m so proud of you, Hope. It seems like just yesterday that you showed up at our church as Cy’s fiancée. And now here you are a wife, mother, and mover and shaker in your part of the world. Yours is a prime example that dreams can come true, and that God does answer prayer. That is why I’d like for you to be one of the speakers on Saturday. Have you share your story to the extent you feel comfortable. When it comes to the theme, The Woman I Am, you are an embodiment of an answered prayer.” Vivian continued, sharing in more depth how she’d like Hope to contribute to the conference. “Do you and Cy have plans for the fourth?” she’d asked, when finished.

  “We’ve talked about going to LA,” Hope answered. “With the holiday falling on a Tuesday, I’d like to get into town that Saturday, hopefully spend time with Frieda and Stacy, attend church on Sunday, and then play both Monday and Tuesday by ear.”

  “Perfect! Then I can go ahead and pencil in you two to attend the barbecue we’re planning. Very casual, and the only thing you need to bring is yourselves.”

  “That sounds great, Viv. I’ll run it by Cy and confirm later this week.”

  “And if Frieda and Stacy want to join us, either with their husbands or alone, they too are welcome.”

  “I’ll be speaking with both of them this week if not later today, and will let them know.”

  “It’ll be good to see everyone again.”

  “I agree, Vivian. See you soon.”

  10

  The Woman I Am

  Hope finished checking her e-mails and, instead of balancing the household checkbook as she’d planned, then looked up the foundation scripture to the upcoming conference. It was an interesting one, taken from the third chapter of Exodus when God commanded Moses to go before Pharaoh and demand that the children of Israel be let go. When Moses had asked God what his name was, and who should he say had sent him, God answered, “I Am that I Am.” He told Moses to say that I Am had sent him. Vivian had told Hope to study the Hebrew word for this passage. She’d been the one to suggest that Hope purchase a Hebrew-Greek Bible. It had been the best study guide Hope could have imagined, had helped her deepen her understanding of the scriptures and in doing so, to strengthen her relationship with God.

  “Hayah.” Hope practiced the Hebrew word on her tongue as she read its literal meaning: to breathe. Immediately she began to get excited. God was her very breath? She continued reading aloud, literally feeling the Spirit as she did so. “This verb means to exist, to become, to come to pass, to happen, to be finished.” She stopped, pondering that definition. It came to her that what God had spoken was already done, that the end was known from the beginning. She also felt that God was saying that whatever Moses needed God was, and by default, since humans were made in the image and likeness of God, that whatever people desired was inherently already inside them. The revelation sat Hope back in her chair. Could that be true? Could the power to realize all of her desires have existed inside her all along? If so, why had it ta
ken so long for it to happen, for her to meet Cy and have children? And what about all of the single women out there, good women who wanted marriage and motherhood, yet found it so difficult to find the right man? As more questions than answers came to her, she kept reading. “The key meaning to Jehovah/Yahweh is found in this word. I Am that I Am means I Am He who exists: timeless, ever-present.” Fingers drummed against the mahogany table as she thought on these words, asking God what she should say at the conference, how she could use these words and her life to encourage someone who was in the shoes she’d occupied for a long period of her life. “Help me, Jesus,” she murmured, rising from the table and stretching long and hard. She looked at her clock, knowing that the kids would be coming back soon. It was also workout day, one of three times a week that Yvette came through to torture her into retaining the lean, tight body that Cy loved.

  Just enough time left to try and catch my girls. Reaching for her phone, she walked from the kitchen area toward the great room, to the covered patio beyond it. It was a favorite hangout place for Hope, a smartly appointed area anchored by an outdoor kitchen on one side and an infinity pool on the other. Beyond it was the expertly maintained garden from which Hope filled the house with flowers: hydrangeas, orchids, lilies. Also growing were large bird-of-paradise plants that she admired but refused to cut. Beyond the garden was what drove up the property’s value—an unobstructed view of the Pacific Ocean. She and Cy had spent many amorous evenings on this patio. Her cootchie tingled just thinking about them, so she forced away these thoughts as Stacy picked up on the other end of the phone.

  “Hey, Hope.”

  “Hey, girl. What’s wrong?”