15
Assuming the Best
“You were an early bird this morning.” Hope placed a glass of orange juice and two superfood pills in front of her husband, who was seated at the breakfast nook. It was seven-thirty in the morning, more than an hour since Cy had read Trisha’s latest e-mail, and mere minutes since Hope had washed her face, brushed her teeth, and come downstairs to prepare breakfast for her husband.
“Yes. I didn’t want to wake you so instead of tossing and turning, I decided to just get up.”
Hope’s hand hovered for just a moment above the French toast that she was about to flip. She took a breath, flipped the thick French bread awash in whipped eggs seasoned with sea salt, raw sugar, and cinnamon, and lowered the heat before she turned around to get a look at the reason for her breathing. “What’s on your mind, babe?”
Cy finished drinking the orange juice Hope had given him. “I talked to Trisha yesterday.”
“Oh?” The marital counseling sessions she’d had with First Lady Vivian Montgomery before her marriage, and the conversations they’d recently shared, caused her to absorb this news without so much as a flinch. Always assume the best about your husband. That’s what Vivian had told her. And that’s what she’d do. “How’d that come about?”
“I responded to the e-mail she sent me and she responded with her phone number.”
Hope lifted the French toast from the cast iron skillet that had been a wedding gift from her mother, added several links of organic veggie sausages, and walked the plate over to where Cy sat. “I remember you saying that you two were pretty serious in college,” she said, her voice light and airy as she placed a single piece of toast on her plate, along with a couple links of sausage. After getting the maple syrup from the microwave she joined her husband at the table and said, “I’m sure that that was an interesting conversation.”
“It was.” Cy spread butter on his toast, added a liberal amount of syrup, and after slicing it into uniform cubes, took a bite. “This is delicious, baby.”
Hope dressed her plate as well, but instead of reaching for her fork, picked up her orange juice and leaned back in the booth. “What did she say? Why is she contacting you after all these years?”
Cy gave Hope the condensed version of his conversation with Trisha.
“So she’s never married, has no children, and admits that she still loves you. I’m finding it hard to see the positive angle of her desire to reconnect.” She picked up her fork, cut off a generous piece of French toast, and enjoyed the bite. “Um, this is good.”
“I’m baffled too, not only because it was Jeannetta who told her how to contact me, but because I thought this was all about the reunion. But now, I just don’t know.”
“So what are you going to do, baby?”
Cy devoured a sausage link. “She wants me to call her the next time I’m in New York.”
“Where she lives, right?” Cy nodded. “And if I remember correctly, your next trip there is scheduled for shortly after the Fourth of July.”
“The following week.”
Hope took a couple more bites. “Are you going to meet with her?”
“It depends on whether or not you have a problem with that.”
Hope finished the food that was on her plate and downed the juice in her glass. “I guess a brief meeting in a public place, with no physical contact, for old time’s sake, would be okay.”
“Dang, baby. I can’t hug a person I haven’t seen for years?”
Hope thought for a moment. “I guess a very brief church hug would be okay.”
Cy smiled. He knew what kind of hug Hope was talking about—where the upper bodies touched but the lower half was at least a foot apart.
“I wouldn’t want to come off as a possessive, jealous female who doesn’t trust her man.”
“I appreciate that, baby. Like I said, I’m curious about what she could want after all these years.”
“Well,” Hope said dryly as she reached for his plate, then got up from the table and walked over to the sink, “with all the effort she’s put into finding you, I’m sure that she’ll tell you.”
The rest of their conversation was aborted as Rosie brought down the twins, who enjoyed the French toast and sausage as much as their parents. Afterward, Cy left for LA and Hope spent a couple hours with the children before Rosie’s Spanish lessons and time at the park. After Yvette arrived and put Hope through a rigorous workout, Hope watched an episode of Conversations with Carla, a popular television talk show hosted by Sanctity of Sisterhood member and former first lady Carla Chapman. Then she placed phone calls to both her parents. Pat, who was still glowing following her return to Oklahoma after a long weekend in La Jolla, and Earl, who much to his daughter’s surprise and delight was touting the benefits of less meat and more leafy greens, a diet encouraged by his current wife. Just after she’d conferred with Rosie about the dinner preparations, she got a call from Vivian.
“Hello, Hope. I don’t have much time, but I wanted to call and see if you’d had a chance to study the theme of the upcoming summit, and the scriptures I’d mentioned.”
“Sure have. I Am. Who knew those two small words could mean so much? I researched some of the foundation scriptures and will look at the rest of them when we return from LA. I also have an idea for a praise dance, using a song by Rickie Byars called “In the Land of I Am.”
Vivian instantly loved the idea, surprised that she herself hadn’t thought of it. Hope had been involved in praise dancing from her youth and when she relocated to Los Angeles, had added this component to KCCC’s worship arts. “Hmm, haven’t heard it,” she replied.
“One of Cy’s associates turned him on to her work some time ago. She’s Reverend Michael Beckwith’s wife.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?”
“He’s the founder and pastor at Agape.”
“Of course—the one who was in The Secret.”
“Yes. His wife is a force to be reckoned with in her own right: minister, author, and amazing recording artist. They wrote this song together.”
“I love the idea of a praise dance, Hope, and I’d like to hear it.”
“It’s on my iPod. I’ll make sure and bring it when we come over.”
“So you and Cy are coming for sure? That’s excellent.”
“Yes, we’ll be there.”
“Telling me about Rickie’s song reminds me of another song that came out years ago. It was on a CD produced by a ministry here in LA, Bam Crawford. The song is called “I Am the I Am.” Do you know it?”
“No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that.”
“We’ll also give that one a listen when you come to town. I can’t wait to see you.”
“I need, I mean, want to see you too.”
“Okay, Hope. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Something that I’d rather discuss in person. I could use your counsel.”
“In that case, let’s carve out some time when you and I can chat.”
“Sounds good. I miss being at KCCC every Sunday, Lady Viv. I’m looking forward to seeing you guys.”
“And I look forward to seeing you as well.”
After ending the call, Hope poured herself a glass of sparkling water and went out to the patio . . . her favorite place. She looked out over the Pacific Ocean, the beauty that surrounded a life that had exceeded her expectations. As she thought on the I Am, she counted many things that she was: happy, fulfilled, and madly in love being among them. And whatever it was that Trisha had on her mind, Hope didn’t plan on giving up any of the things for which she was thankful.