Then Sings My Soul (The Langston Family Saga Book 2) Read online

  "Okay,” Pam said slowly. "We have no idea where he is, but we could give you his name. Or I could hire someone to locate him."

  Xavier bit his lip and gave a slight nod.

  "Better yet," she said, reaching across the table and touching Kristina’s hand. "We could call Robin. If his family still goes to New Life Tabernacle, she could put you in touch with them.”

  Kristina nodded. "I can call Robin."

  "Yeah. Tamia and I talked about that."

  Both sisters glanced at Tamia, but their faces remained passive, aware that Xavier could see their every move.

  "But here’s the thing—you guys didn't even know about me. So what are the chances that he does? I just keep thinking I'll be on the phone with this guy and he’ll think it’s a prank. So, Tamia and I were thinking maybe it would be better if you contacted him first, Kristina."

  Again, Pam and Kristina shifted their gazes to Tamia.

  Xavier continued. "It might make it easier for him to deal with, you know, if it came from you."

  Kristina could see how nervous he was. She knew he’d wanted to ask her for a while now. And every time, she ducked the question or changed the subject. Not because she was worried about Omar's reaction. If the man was anything like the boy she knew all those years ago, he wouldn't hesitate to open his arms or his life to his son.

  No, her reasons were far more selfish.

  She hadn't wanted to talk about Omar because of the jumbled feelings she had about him. Despite the many relationships she’d been in and out of over the years, she'd only ever loved one man. But it was a foolish torch to carry and she knew it.

  First, there was no way a guy like Omar would still be single. Second, even if he was, he wouldn’t be interested in a wreck like her. She knew that seeing him in Xavier's life was going to break her heart and, ashamed as she was to admit it, that was something she wanted to avoid as long as possible.

  But looking at Xavier, so nervous to ask for an answer every child had a right to know, seeing that sweet face she’d never hoped to see, there was no way she could deny him his request.

  "Okay,” she said. “We’ll hire someone to find him and I'll talk to him myself."

  Xavier dropped back against his headboard, his face awash with relief. "Thank you, Krissi! Thank you so much!"

  Tamia flipped the screen around. "See. I told you. We’ll call you the moment we have news."

  Chapter 3

  No sooner than Tamia signed off Skype, Pam dropped her mask of polite calm.

  "What were you thinking?"

  “About what?"

  Pam stood and put her hand on her hip. "You know exactly what. Why in the world would you put Kristina on the spot like that?"

  Kristina tugged on Pam's arm. "It's okay, Pam—“

  "No! It's not!"

  Tamia showed zero signs of guilt or regret. Pam may have been her older sister, but she wasn’t about to back down. "He wants to meet his father. He has a right to know him."

  "Then he should meet him. But there was no reason to bring Kristina into this."

  "She's the best person to make contact with Omar!"

  "But right now, Tamia? Really?”

  "If not now, when?"

  Pam threw her arms up. "Oh, I don't know… After she's been out of rehab for more than a minute. After she's through being followed around twenty-four-seven by a drama hungry camera crew. After she's finished all the preparations for the first full-scale tour she's done in years." Pam chopped one hand against the palm of the other. "How about when she's not already dealing with a dozen other complications!”

  Tamia looked at Kristina. "He was your first love. He's the father of your son. How is that a complication?"

  Pam's jaw dropped. "Tam, did you really just say that?" Pam turned to Kristina. “Seriously. Did she really just ask that question?"

  Even amid the heated disagreement, Kristina had to work hard to suppress the smile she felt tug at her lips upon looking at Pam's disbelieving expression.

  "Love and support is what she needs most right now. For the short time that Omar was in our lives, he was our backbone."

  "You just hit the nail on the head, little sister. For the short time. Nearly two decades have passed, Tamia. We don't even know anything about him."

  Tamia cocked her head to the side. “I know people change, but not that much. Omar was a good guy. A great guy. He's probably an even better man."

  "And you think a man like that is still single and pining over some aging, crackhead popstar?"

  Tamia and Pam stopped and looked at Kristina. Though she’d made the statement plainly and without an ounce of sadness or self-pity, Tamia and Pam looked on the verge of tears.

  Tamia’s eyebrows furrowed and she took a step toward Kristina, her chin quivering. "You're not—“

  Kristina put her hand up. "In God's eyes, I'm not. In God's eyes, old things have passed away and all things have been made new." She put her hand down on her Bible, smoothing out the pages. "But Omar is only human. Besides, he’s probably married, with a house full of kids by now."

  Tamia lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Krissi."

  Kristina shook her head. “You want me to be happy. I get that. But it's not going to be with Omar, honey. We lost that chance a long time ago. I’ve accepted it and you need to do the same."

  The sun had gone down, cloaking the whole house in darkness, by the time Omar put his key in the front door. That's how it always was. Unless he had Chloe for the evening, there was no reason for him to leave work before nightfall. What was the point? He was only coming home to an empty house anyway.

  Once inside, he dropped his briefcase on the entryway table and without a thought, went about his evening routine. The same one he'd had since he and Marisa stopped trying to resuscitate their dead marriage and moved into separate homes.

  Number 1: Call Chloe

  "How was your day, baby?"

  "Good! I watched Frozen."

  Omar's heart warmed. The sound of her voice had a way of doing that to him, no matter how he was feeling at the time.

  "You did?" He tried to sound surprised, but he knew her too well. "How many times?"

  “Uh…” Omar heard her turn away from the phone and whisper. "Mommy, how many times did I watch Frozen?" In the background, he heard Marisa's voice, inaudible. Chloe returned to the phone. "Just enough times to drive her crazy, mommy said."

  Naturally.

  "How was your day?"

  Omar leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. "Oh, you know… I spent it thinking about my Chloe."

  She giggled. “You did not. You built houses."

  "You don't think I can build houses and think about you at the same time? You must take me for a pretty silly daddy."

  She overflowed with giggles again. "No, you're the best daddy! And that's why I'm so happy about my birthday present!"

  Not that she had to tell him. Her squealing the words ‘birthday present’ instead of speaking them were enough to clue him in.

  "Oh… I don't know, Miss Chloe. You sound too excited. You know what I think you're going to do when you see your birthday present?"

  "What?"

  "You're going to faint. Fall flat out on the floor. Just like daddy did when baby Chloe got her first shot."

  Again, she erupted into giggles. "You did not! You did not faint!"

  "How do you know?"

  "Because I know! You’re G.I. Joe, daddy!"

  "Okay, okay. You're right. I didn't actually faint, but I wanted to."

  Chloe became quiet and Omar knew what it meant. She was contemplating one of the great mysteries of her life. Omar waited, a smile on his face,

  “Ummm, daddy? If I faint, then everyone else will get to play with my present and I'll just be on the floor."

  Now it was his turn to laugh. He loved how she always thought things through.

  "Okay, how about this. I'll show you some of your presents before everyone else arrives, so you'll have p
lenty of time to regain consciousness. Plus, I'll make sure I catch you so you won't have to be on the floor."

  Chloe shrieked. "That's a great idea! Thanks, daddy!"

  Number 2: Heat Takeout

  One of their company’s real estate agents, Sondra, was a flirt. She couldn't talk to Omar without touching his forearm or trying to rub his back. Her most frequent offer involved her coming over and making him a “lip-smacking, home-cooked meal."

  "Don't you get bored eating takeout every day?" Her voice was always low and seductive, making even the most innocent question sound like a proposition. Sondra never spoke to Omar, she purred.

  “Nope.”

  It was the answer he gave every time she asked. She, of course, thought he was playing hard to get. But he was being honest. His refrigerator door was proof of that. On it was a takeout menu from just about every restaurant within a ten mile radius. Not to mention the selection offered by dining delivery and all the fast food establishments between the office and his front door.

  Did he get bored?

  No.

  Lonely?

  That was another question…

  Number 3: Check DVR

  For being such a simple task, this was the one most fraught with emotion. And there were several involved. Anxiety, anticipation, dread. There was no guarantee that what he wanted to see on the DVR would be waiting.

  It's not like he'd set it to record CSI or Law & Order. Like he could come home knowing what he'd find. It was always a toss-up. It could be good. It could be bad. There could be nothing at all. Why? Because the DVR was programmed to record any item that had the keywords "Kristina Langston" in the program info.

  Sometimes he got a movie. Sometimes an award show. Sometimes a music video retrospective. Now and then, a news item. Those were the ones he always hoped for. Glimpses into her life. Proof that she was happy and doing well, despite the look in her eyes that sometimes said otherwise.

  A few months ago, he came home, checked the DVR and saw video footage of her body being rolled out of a hotel on a gurney. Two paramedics rushed her to a waiting ambulance. Another frantically administered CPR while in motion. He'd watched the news footage five times in a row before he realized he was holding his breath, waiting to take one until she could, too.

  After that, the hope went from just coming home and seeing her face, to coming home and seeing her alive. So even later, when he saw the stories about her and the new young guy, he was too relieved to be anything but grateful.

  But with the hopeful expectation, there was a tinge of guilt and a hint of shame. It was the secret he kept even from Brock. And why wouldn't he? He couldn't help but feel this part of his late-night ritual was somewhat akin to stalking. Or at least, he was sure that's what others would think.

  But if someone ever asked him why he’d do such a thing, he would have explained it like this: he’d only known true love once in his life.

  And although he’d been blessed to have Chloe, his marriage to Marisa was based on something that didn't even come close to the real thing. After they separated, he tried to fill the hole with other relationships. But the only thing that ever succeeded in bringing him healing was his relationship with God and the gift that was his daughter.

  So though it would be strange to some, his watching over the woman he had loved more than any other in his life was just his way of coping.

  Omar turned on the flat screen and the DVR, wondering what he’d find. Would tonight be a good one or a bad one?

  There was one new recording. An interview. And in it, Kristina came into the room, as usual, like a boss. Even without an entourage, she owned the place the second she took her seat. Omar had to smile. He hoped this interviewer had himself together, because if he didn't, he’d have a hard time keeping up.

  But seconds into the conversation, Omar realized something was different.

  First, after Kristina sat, she took off her sunglasses. She hadn't done that in years. Omar never knew why she kept them on, but whatever the reason, it always put interviewers slightly off balance, giving Kristina the upper hand.

  The second thing he noticed was the look in her eyes. Something about her was changed. She laughed and talked with the interviewer openly and freely. Without any of the reluctance and guarded suspicion she’d become known for. Was this the result of being sober? Or was it something more?

  Omar leaned forward in his seat. She was practically glowing. There was something about her, something he hadn't seen since they’d been together. Something that had been missing for a long time.

  Joy?

  She talked about the promotion that her record company was hosting in Dallas. She was going there to do a pre-show of which the proceeds would be donated to charity.

  But try as she might to stay on topic, the interviewer had other ideas. After several attempts, the man was successful in bringing the conversation around to the question he'd been waiting to ask from the moment she’d arrived.

  “You know what we’re all dying to hear about. Are you going to give us any details?"

  Kristina shrugged and feigned innocence.

  "I've been giving you all the details I have, Scott. If you want to know more you have to go to the Show Some Love website."

  "No! I'm talking about details on how Kristina got her groove back!"

  Omar rolled his eyes. How many times was the press going to use that one?

  The man laughed and Kristina played coy, shaking her head. "I keep telling y'all, he's my protégé. I know it’s a fancy word, but just look it up.”

  Kristina laughed, but the interviewer wasn't buying it. Omar wasn’t either. But he couldn’t blame her for being tight-lipped. Better for her to keep her private life, private.

  And despite the uncomfortable twinge he felt at every mention of her so-called protégé, Omar couldn’t be happier. Kristina looked good. Really good. She appeared healthier than she had in years. Her skin was glowing and her face was fuller. When she laughed, it was loud and sincere. Not the hollow little chuckle she’d used for so long. And that meant everything to him.

  As long as he had God, Chloe and the knowledge that Kristina was all right, he would be all right, too.

  Even if it was far away from her, watching her thousand watt smile flicker across his TV screen as he sat in his favorite chair, eating that night’s takeout.

  Chapter 4

  As her driver turned the jet black BMW 760 onto I-75, Kristina offered up a little prayer of thanks that she didn't have to do the driving herself. She was far too nervous.

  Tamia called her that morning saying she had information on Omar. She wanted Kristina to come to her townhouse so they could talk without Pam or the camera crew hovering.

  The anticipation had caused the day to move at a snail's pace. Kristina must've checked her watch a thousand times. She would have asked Tamia to give her the information right then over the phone, but she'd become paranoid by the constant presence of the producer and his watchdog, Amy.

  She was more than relieved when they finally decided that they had their footage for the day and left. Not that the crew were bad people. Kristina got along well with the cameramen and the sound guy. But she couldn't say the same for the producer or his production assistant. More than once, she and Pam had caught the girl lurking in a corner while they were trying to have a private conversation.

  Of course, it was to be expected. While the contract had specified exclusive behind-the-scenes access, she knew that it also implied exclusive behind-the-scenes dirt. She knew they were waiting for something, anything, to happen. No doubt, the producer went to bed each night praying she’d show up high the next morning. Or better yet, not show up at all. Because of that, she and her sisters had to be on their best behavior.

  But she'd be lying if she said it wasn’t exhausting. She felt as if she were constantly walking on eggshells. Careful not to do or say anything that could be misinterpreted or misconstrued. There was a lot riding on the upcoming tour and
she didn't need any more doubt or speculation to hit the press as a result of this reality show.

  Then there were her own secrets.

  The last thing she wanted was for Amy to get a whiff of the Omar/Xavier situation. It wasn't that she was ashamed of Xavier. It was just that they’d both decided they wanted time to get to know each other before going public. And as far as Omar, any connection to Kristina might give him and his family unwanted attention. She had no desire to disrupt his life any more than necessary. Introducing him to his now eighteen-year-old son would be disruption enough.

  But she hoped it would be more than that. She could see how much Xavier wanted this and she didn't want him to get hurt. Hopefully, Omar was still the person she remembered.

  Tamia had called him her first love. But really, he was more than that. He was her best friend. Her lifeline. And at a time when she desperately needed both.

  He did the most surprising things to show her how much he cared. Things that anyone else would call silly or even childish. Like the year he gave her a jar of pickles for Valentine's Day. Even now, she couldn't help but laugh at the thought of it. What made it such a perfect gift was what it represented.

  Growing up, Kristina and her sisters never got presents. Not for birthdays or even Christmas. So when he told her he’d bought a gift for her, she knew she’d love it. When it turned out to be a jar of Vlasic pickles, she knew she loved him.

  Kristina adored pickles, but her mother rarely bought them. And when she did, it was always the generic brands. When Omar found this out, he decided to get her the best pickles on the store shelf. Although it was a small thing, it meant the world to her.

  As far as friends, all she and her sisters ever had were each other. At church, it was because Mahalia kept them so close to her. At school, it was because they were labeled “church girls.” They were the ones that never wore pants and never went sleeveless. The ones that couldn't go to movies and never watched TV. They weren't allowed to go roller skating on Friday nights, much less, to a party. They were made fun of more than anything else, so it got to the point that they just stopped trying.