CHAPTER 36
I
t was a quiet Friday evening, and Quentin sat in his office feeling anxious about the weekend. He picked up a new vase of fresh flowers that Montana had left on his desk. The scent of the blossoms filled his office, just as his head was filled with thoughts of Montana.
He had been praying all week, ever since he got that photo of Montana, and asking God what he should do. Everything in him said to ask her about it, but what if her answer was that she really was seeing Rio?
Quentin's phone buzzed with a text message. Docs say Alex won't make it through the night. Better get here.
A knot formed in Quentin's throat. He knew Alex was terminal when she'd moved into Transitions, but she was his friend, and now she was going to be gone. He kept losing the people who were close to him.
He stood up from the desk and sighed. Although they were in the same house, he called Montana's cell phone instead of going to her room, which was on the other side of the mansion.
“Quentin, is there something wrong?” Montana asked.
“Yes. Alex is probably going to die tonight. Will you ride with me to Transitions? Maybe you can pray with her again, and some of her family may be there too.”
“Yes, absolutely. Let me throw on some clothes really quickly.”
“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”
Quentin disconnected the phone. Even though he wasn't sure about Montana being his replacement wife anytime soon, he knew that she had a way of calming those who were suffering. He'd seen it firsthand when he'd taken her to Transitions.
Montana was already waiting downstairs when Quentin got there. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Even with her face bare of makeup and in plain clothes, Montana was still exceptionally beautiful. Her naturally pink lips didn't need any gloss, and those eyelashes didn't require mascara. Quentin felt his heart sting with the knowledge that she wasn't as sweet as she seemed.
“You ready?” Quentin asked. Montana nodded.
It wasn't a fun night, but Quentin chose the Aston Martin to drive anyway, because he knew Montana liked it. Since it was windy, he kept the top up on the car.
Quentin hadn't anticipated how much tension there would be in the car during the drive to Transitions. Obviously, Montana knew there was something wrong too.
“Quentin, what's wrong?” Montana asked.
“My friend is dying.”
“Yes, of course. I'm sorry. Stupid question.”
Quentin knew she didn't mean just tonight. He'd been cool to her for the entire week. He'd gone running without her several times, and she'd said nothing about it.
Quentin thought about the text message again. It was to Rio. It was actually starting to annoy him that she was hiding this huge thing and acting like he was the problem.
“Montana, you could've told me you were seeing someone. I would've understood. Heck, I was still tangled with Chloe and trying to see myself untangled. Why did you lie to me?”
Quentin blurted out the words and waited for Montana's reaction. Either she was an Oscar-worthy actress or she was genuinely confused.
“I'm not seeing anyone, Quentin.”
“So you're just gonna keep lying about it? I thought we were friends. You could've just said you weren't interested in me.”
Chloe dropped her forehead into the palm of her hand as if she was trying to make her brain work. “Quentin, I have no idea what you're talking about. Why do you think I'm seeing someone? What gave you that idea?”
Quentin pulled the car over on the side of the road. He took out his cell phone, scrolled to the message, and shoved the phone in Montana's face.
Montana's jaw dropped and her eyes bulged out of her head when she saw the picture. “W-where did you get this?”
“You made a mistake and sent it to me, I guess. The text says it's for your man, Rio.”
Montana shook her head in disbelief. “But how?”
“Are you saying that it's not you in the picture? Did someone Photoshop your head onto that body? If so, they picked a great body.”
“This picture is at least two years old, Quentin, and I didn't send this.”
Quentin pointed at the phone. “The text came from your number!”
“I can see that, and I am still telling you I didn't send this. Someone has either hacked into my phone or my computer or something.”
Quentin could hear the panic in Montana's voice. It sounded sincere. But was she panicking because she was telling the truth or because she'd been caught, and now he knew the woman she truly was?
“Why would anyone want to do that to you?”
“Come on, Quentin. I know at least one person who'd want to do that to me.”
Quentin burst into laughter. “Who, Chloe? This isn't even her style! She's not a tech guru.”
Montana looked back down at the picture. “Quentin, you can tell this is picture is old. Look at my hair. I've only been wearing my curly style for two years. Look at how short my hair is in the picture compared to now.”
Quentin snatched the phone. He looked at the picture again. Admittedly, he hadn't paid too much attention to her hairstyle. There were too many other details in the picture to distract him.
He must've gazed at the picture for too long, because Montana snatched the phone away from him.
“So you think that Chloe did this?” Quentin asked. “What about Rio?”
Montana gripped the phone in her fist. “I don't think he would want another man to see me like this.”
“And I don't think that Chloe would fight that dirty.”
Montana gazed at Quentin with tears in her eyes. “Do you . . . do you believe me?”
“I want to, but honestly, I'm not sure what I believe.”
“Wow. So do you still want a relationship with me?”
Quentin paused for a long and pregnant moment before he replied. “Even if the picture is old . . . I didn't think you were this type of girl. I guess I have a different view of you now.”
“I'm not proud of who I used to be, Quentin. I was this girl. I didn't know God at the time. I was lost. I wish that when you walk up and give your life to Christ, everything you did before would just disappear. But it doesn't. Sometimes it lingers, and apparently can come back to bite you.”
“I understand. We all have a past.”
“We do, but I want you to know that this is my past. Not my present. No matter what you believe, I didn't send you this text.”
Quentin couldn't ignore the tears in Montana's eyes as she spoke. He wanted to believe her, but even if he did, her image was still tarnished in his eyes.
“I believe you, and we're still . . . friends. But let's get to Alex, okay? We can talk more about it later.”
Montana swallowed and nodded. “Quentin, why did you keep the text?”
“Are you kidding? Do you see yourself in that picture? I am still a man, Montana.”
Montana pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. Then she made a big production out of deleting the text message.
“Now it's gone. You won't be able to lust after me anymore.”
Quentin laughed. “It's gone from the phone, but it's always gonna be right here.”
Quentin tapped the side of his head and laughed at his joke, although Montana didn't join him.
But now Quentin was curious. He'd said he didn't think Chloe would play that dirty. But would she? Quentin still wasn't sure he believed Chloe had anything to do with the picture getting to his phone. But if she did, then that meant she was still intent on getting him back. And if she was still trying to get him back, then what other tricks did she have planned?
CHAPTER 37
N
urse Charlene was standing on the porch when Quentin and Montana pulled up to Transitions. The anxious look on her face let Quentin know that things with Alex were bad and that the doctor's prediction probably would come to pass.
Montana whispered under her breath, and Quentin guessed that she was praying. From the look on Charlene's face, the prayers were needed.
“How is she?” Quentin asked, as they walked up the front steps.
“Almost there. Her family is with her now saying good-bye.”
Quentin nodded and motioned for Montana to follow him inside. In silence, they ascended the stairs to Alex's room.
Slowly, they entered the room, which was filled with family and friends of Alex. She'd already written her last wishes. She didn't want a funeral. The friends who'd loved her had celebrated her while she was alive. She simply wanted to be buried next to her mother, who had also succumbed to cancer many years before.
Alex's eyes were closed, and her breathing was slow and labored. She appeared to be sleeping. Her lips were dry and chapped, and one of the nurses periodically wet them with a dropper filled with water. Alex was past the point of being thirsty, hungry, or afraid. She was ready to transition.
Quentin whispered, “Will you please pray?”
“Dear God, we thank you for Alex's life. Lord, we thank you for the love she has shown and the gifts she has shared. As you open your loving arms to receive her spirit, we pray for peace in accepting her transition, oh God. Show us that this life on earth is only preparation for our true place with you. Grant us serenity, and let our hearts not be too heavy. Lord, we know that Alex is going to a place where pain, crying, medicines, and cancer do not exist. Her body is going to eternal rest, but her spirit is transitioning to its next phase in eternal life. Lord, wrap us in your arms too, and give us peace that surpasses understanding. Make us to know that there is no sorrow that your love cannot heal. We ask these things in the name of Jesus. Amen.”
When Montana started to pray out loud, Quentin was shocked. He'd thought she would whisper a prayer to Alex, as she'd done before. Then he understood exactly what she was doing. The ones who needed the prayer were in the room. Alex was ready to leave this world for the next, and her family and friends who would be left behind needed more prayer than she did.
There wasn't a dry eye in the room when Montana finished the prayer. Alex stirred a bit and started to moan and speak in a low, scratchy voice. No one could make out the words.
“What is she saying?” asked a young lady sitting next to the bed. Quentin knew her. She was Alex's niece.
“I'm not sure, but my wife did the same thing,” Quentin shared.
Montana touched his arm. “We're not supposed to understand this. She's talking to God now.”
Everyone was silent as Alex's voice rose and the sounds became a little bit more excited. Quentin hoped she wasn't in pain, but she didn't seem to be. There was a faint smile on her face in between the words and sounds.
Finally, the sounds stopped, and one last quiet breath came from Alex's body. After experiencing many transitions since his wife had died, Quentin was familiar with the eerie feeling that hung in the room for a brief moment after death. It was how he always knew the deceased was truly gone without the doctor saying anything.
Quentin glanced over at the clock. It was eleven minutes after eleven. Someone had told him once that 1111 was the number of angels. Now, for Quentin, it would be a time to remember his friend.
There were a few quiet sobs from Alex's aunt, and everyone had tears trickling down their faces. It was over. Alex had transitioned to her heavenly home.
Quentin and Montana stepped out of the room to allow the family quiet time with Alex's body. In a few moments, the crew that Quentin had on standby would come and remove her and take her to a local funeral home to prepare her for burial.
Then the whole process would start over with a new Transitions resident.
Montana followed Quentin downstairs and outside. They leaned on his car and didn't speak for a while. Quentin cried a little and then composed himself. Montana held one of his hands in both of hers and gently rubbed it. It was a small gesture, but Quentin felt his insides warm at her touch.
“When I first heard about your foundation,” Montana said, breaking the silence, “I wanted to know more about you. I wanted to understand why a man who had lost so much would surround himself with death and dying.”
“I ask myself that all the time, and I can't figure it out. Let me know what you come up with.”
Montana said, “Thank you for inviting me to come here. Not just tonight. I mean, period.”
“You know, I've never brought Chloe down here. Never even thought about it.”
“Why not?”
“Honestly, I didn't think she'd know how to act. I thought she might embarrass me.”
Montana didn't respond to this. Quentin knew it sounded crazy, but it was the truth. Chloe would never understand this place, and would probably be uneasy around the residents. She could stay in Atlanta counting his money and thinking of ways to spend it.
“Thank you for being here,” Quentin said. “I'm sorry about the text message. God definitely used you tonight. I wish there had been someone like you around when Chandra died. I could've used a prayer warrior like you.”
“I-I'm not perfect, Quentin. I am a prayer warrior, but I've got some battle wounds. That text message came from the part of my life that's stitched up and scarred over. It's not pretty.”
Quentin stroked the side of Montana's face as tears fell from her eyes. Now it was his turn to comfort her.
“You're perfect enough for me.”
Quentin leaned down and planted a soft kiss on Montana's lips. He felt her arms wrap around his neck, and he lifted her from the ground just a little. She tasted exactly as he'd imagined. Sweet, like honey.
When they separated, Montana stared into his eyes as if she was trying to see through him to the depths of his heart. He didn't know what she'd see if it was exposed, but he wanted her to look for it anyway. If he had any heart left, then it was hers.