by Mata Elliott
So this was the Trevor her aunt had referred to. Oh, Cassidy had recognized him mere seconds after impact. But though she’d seen him countless times at church, she had seldom looked at him for more than a quick beat and never from this intimate stance, where it was easy to inventory every detail of his face. The skin, baked brown like bread edges, was without crater, wrinkle, or pimple. A mustache colored the area above his lip ebony, while a goatee, trimmed short, embraced his chin. A complete head of hair was cropped close to his scalp, and his eyebrows, moderate slashes, held faintly noticeable arches.
But it was more than surface good looks that held Cassidy’s interest. She’d immediately perceived something pure and good and gentle in this man. And she’d felt from the moment he touched her that he was trying his best to keep her from falling, and was not attempting to be forward. First impressions, however, could be misleading. And from her experience, men that looked like Trevor, the handsome, “I work out regularly” type, like Minister and Larenz, were shallow and conceited and endowed with the personality of a peanut, so she wasn’t about to get caught up in him.
“What are you doing in my house?” she snapped. “And how did you get in?” She knew without a doubt she had locked the front door and gone back to check.
A fat bumblebee hovering outside the screened window made a persistent buzzing sound. After a stretch of long seconds, Trevor finally drowned out the humming bee with a low but firm answer. “Mother Vale gave me a key.”
“Why would you need a key to this house?” Cassidy slung her arms across her middle as if she were placing a barricade between herself and the man, an undisputable three or more inches taller than her five feet nine, she was noticing now. Trevor stood as stiff-shouldered as she was, and she continued to thrash him with an unfriendly look, demonstrating that although she’d initially been jarred, she was no pushover. “Answer me,” Cassidy insisted in a tone more suitable for addressing a child.
Trevor’s face held more amusement than anything else as his gaze eased over her face and down her neck and straight past the neckline of her . . .
Cassidy’s eyes ballooned with anguish as a gasp of humiliation escaped her half-open lips. She yanked her towel from the bar and quickly wrapped it around her body.
“I found it,” the angel bellowed as she came skipping back into the room, cuddling a yellow jacket as carefully as a mother would her newborn.
“Good girl.” Trevor hoisted her into his arms, kissed her cheek, and gave her back to the floor. “Now go tell Sis we’ll be leaving for the movies in a minute. And no more running in the house,” he gently admonished over his shoulder.
That’s when Cassidy made her move. Holding the towel in place, she twisted on the soles of her feet and marched into her bedroom. The slam of the door reverberated in her ears, and the picture on the wall quivered from the force. She pulled off the towel and threw it to the floor, making it the victim of her frustration as she replayed how Trevor had surveyed her with a twinkle in his eyes as if the incident had a humorous side. Cassidy huffed, snatched open the door of her closet, and jerked an understated shirt from a hanger. There was nothing comical about what had just happened in that bathroom, and as soon as she could dress, she would give Trevor her opinion in spoken words.
Cassidy laughed, putting the phone to her other ear. “That was a funny one,” she said of the anecdote her friend had downloaded from the Web.
“I’ve got another one. Would you like to hear it?”
Cassidy looped a lock of hair around her finger. “No, save it for tomorrow’s conversation.”
“Okay,” Dunbar Smith agreed. “So tell me why you’re home. When I spoke with you a few days ago, you said”—Dunbar adjusted his tone to sound more like a female’s—“my days are filled with conferences. There won’t be much time for sightseeing, so I’m going to stay into next week and visit a couple of attractions, buy a few sci-fi books, and kick back in the lounge chair on the balcony outside my hotel room, order room service at least once, and watch Lifetime all day.”
Cassidy giggled. Dunbar had repeated what she’d told him almost word for word. And count on Dunbar to put a smile on her face. She sipped water from a glass, and for the next few minutes, she unloaded the primary reason she’d come home. “I want to make sure the kids are ready for the spelling bee.” The Interfaith Spelling Bee was only weeks away. There was a trophy cabinet in the church’s main hallway, the shelves lined with dozens of trophies and medals won by the gospel choir, the youth choir, and the men’s basketball team. Cassidy had already picked out a space on the first-place shelf for the trophy ACES would win.
“It’s all about the kids,” Dunbar whined with exaggeration when Cassidy finished. “I thought maybe it had something to do with me.”
“Oh, you know I missed you.”
His voice was serious. “I missed you, too, C.C.” Following a brief period of comfortable silence, he asked, “Are you going to buy new books?”
She sighed. “I hope to. It’s essential the kids read every day.” Before Cassidy called Dunbar, she had called Portia Washington. Portia had been in charge of ACES while Cassidy was away, and she was the one who gave Cassidy the disturbing news. Their small one-room library had been painted, and the painters, doing a good deed, removed the books from the shelves and packed them in boxes so they wouldn’t be damaged. Unfortunately, the painters left the boxes next to another set of boxes destined for the trash, and the janitorial staff carried the boxes with the books away, too. “When will the pastor be home from vacation?”
“Next Friday . . . I think,” said Dunbar.
“When he gets back, I’ll ask him if ACES can use the money in the children’s summer fund. There should be enough money in the account to replace at least half of the books.” Cassidy looked up from her kitchen stool perch. She could see Odessa coming through the front door. “Aunt Odessa’s home,” she said, “and I want to get the scoop on Trevor. He was gone before I could get my clothes on and grill him myself.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be any help.”
“That’s okay.”
“Hey,” Dunbar inserted into the pause, “how’s your boyfriend Oliver Toby doing?”
Cassidy smiled. “Great. I called him as soon as I got in.”
“I think I hear wedding bells,” Dunbar teased.
“You’re so silly. I’ll see you tomorrow night at the singles’ fellowship.”
“Can’t wait,” Dunbar said. “Bye, C.C.”
Cassidy listened. Dunbar liked for her to hang up first. “Bye,” she said, assured he was still there. She walked over to the wall and placed the phone in the cradle as Odessa strolled into the kitchen. A head and a neck taller than Odessa, Cassidy leaned over and kissed the top of her hot-combed silver hair, slicked back and molded into a bun same as every day, except Sundays, when it was curled under a stylish hat. “We need to talk.”
Odessa planted her midsize hips in a chair and clasped her hands in the lap of a pleated skirt. “Yes, thank you, I would like something cold to drink.”
Cassidy smiled, selected a glass from the dish drainer, and approached the refrigerator.
“Are you going to Caring Hands in the morning?” Odessa watched as Cassidy put the cap back on the water jug.
“Yes, I left a message on Arlene’s machine letting her know I’ll be in.”
“That senior center is blessed to have volunteers like you.”
Cassidy thumped a tall glass filled with ice and spring water on the table. “Subject change,” she said, lowering herself to a chair. She folded her arms on the table and pinned Odessa’s gaze. “Would you like to know what man walked in on me while I was in the bathroom wearing next to nothing?”
Odessa pressed a hand to her cheek. “Oh, no, Trevor walked in on you?” Her bottom lip vibrated as she struggled not to smile. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“Oh, so you think it’s hilarious, too. Well, I don’t think so,” she said with emphasis, and flopped against th
e ladder-back chair, arms laced across her chest. “What’s he doing around here—helping with a few odd jobs?” It was the only sensible theory she’d been able to formulate. And it wouldn’t be the first time her aunt had recruited a man from the church for small household repairs.
Odessa swallowed several gulps of water. “Trevor’s living here,” she stated as matter-of-factly as she would have said good morning or good night.
Cassidy straightened. “Why would he be living here?”
“There was a fire at his house. Not too bad—confined to the kitchen. A lot of smoke and water damage, though.”
“Yes, Dunbar mentioned it,” she said slowly, her brain processing the revelation at a deliberate pace. “But I don’t see the connection to our house.”
“At Bible study, when Pastor Audrey announced there’d been a fire at the Monroe home and that our prayers were needed, I decided there was more I could do than pray. I invited Trevor and his children to dinner.”
“I thought people brought flowers or a dessert when they came to dinner, not their luggage.”
Her aunt ignored her. “While the children were having a slice of my apple pie, Trevor stepped outside to take a call. It was then I began to feel the Lord nudging my heart. He reminded me that since we have three extra bedrooms, there was plenty of room for Trevor and his family. They’ll be here until it’s safe for them to return to their home.”
“Why didn’t you tell me they were here when I phoned from San Diego last night?”
“I was about to tell you when Emma rang the doorbell.”
“Oh,” Cassidy said, remembering Odessa had rushed her off the phone because the Purdues had locked themselves out of the house and needed the spare key.
“I was planning to call you back, but Brandi and I struck up a conversation. That child sure can talk—almost as much as you could when you were a little girl.” There was a glow on Odessa’s face, and Cassidy suspected Odessa was remembering the first time she and Cassidy met. Cassidy was two and had no recollection of the event, but she loved to hear Odessa tell the story of how she’d reluctantly taken Cassidy out of foster care twenty-six years before and brought her home to live with her. Never having had a child of her own, well into her fifties, recently widowed, and two months away from retirement, Odessa didn’t think she was the best choice for the position of mothering. But God reminded her that He was her strength and that she could accomplish anything with Him in her life.
Cassidy smiled at the woman who’d raised her, the only blood relative she had. But the smile departed Cassidy’s face as quickly as it had arrived. “Doesn’t Trevor have family?”
“Trevor’s parents are deceased, and so are Brenda’s. She had no siblings, and Trevor has one sister. She lives in a single-bedroom apartment, and that really isn’t much space for growing girls.”
“No,” Cassidy said, not so much thinking about the issue of space, but that Trevor didn’t have much more family than she did.
“Trevor said his secretary and her husband are as close as family, but they already had out-of-town guests, and he didn’t want to infringe. Initially, Trevor didn’t accept the invitation to live here, either. He went on about how his insurance company was going to put him and the children up in a hotel. But I reminded him that our house was close to the church, his job, and his house, and therefore, it would be convenient for him if he stayed here. I think the selling point was when I mentioned the children would probably be safer and happier in a loving home than some strange hotel.” Odessa had a complete white smile, since she had yet to remove her partial plates for the night. “The girls call me Grammy.”
Cassidy could easily believe Trevor’s girls were fond of Odessa. She possessed a passionate love for God and life and people of all ages. Goodness seeped from her, sweetening the lives of all she touched.
Odessa suddenly raised her hands the way she did in church. “Thank God Trevor and the children managed to get out of the house safely. Jesus, thank You . . .”
As Odessa praised God for His mercy toward Trevor and his brood, Cassidy recalled it was just the spring of last year when Brenda Monroe was killed. It was a sad time for Charity Community, as Brenda was well liked. Cassidy had never befriended her, but they had worked together a few times in the church bookstore. Cassidy thought Brenda had a sweet personality, and she especially admired the way Brenda had cared for her little girls—and husband.
“I’m sure Trevor will be paying you rent,” Cassidy said, returning to the present.
“He most certainly will not. And don’t you dare ask him for any. He tried to give me money this morning, and I wouldn’t accept it. I did let him supply his own groceries, but that was only because I wasn’t sure we had what the girls are used to eating.” She finished her water and loosened the ice cubes lodged at the bottom of the glass with a shake. “Trevor offered to do the cooking while he was staying here. I told him we’d split it with him.” She sucked on a piece of ice, then spit it back into the glass, and it clinked against the other cubes. “He seems to be somewhat of a handyman. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the faucet no longer drips after you turn it off.”
Cassidy glanced at the sink. She hadn’t noticed.
“I just did catch the young man before he got his hands on my screen door,” Odessa continued. “I told him that slam was as much a part of the house as the foundation.” She smiled. “He did wash your car, though.”
“So it wasn’t the rain?” Cassidy mumbled, heavy on the sarcasm.
“Trevor took a look under the hood, too. He said he doesn’t know a whole lot about mechanics, but he has a friend who does that kind of work.” Odessa stood and walked to the sink with her glass. She dunked it in a basin of soapy water and washed it with a red-and-white-checkered cloth. “I’ve given the girls the third-floor bedroom and bathroom, and of course, I gave Trevor our guest room,” she said, placing the rinsed glass in the drainer. “If you’re uncomfortable sharing a bathroom with him, feel free to use the master bath in my room.”
Cassidy tapped her index finger on the table, trailing Odessa with a cool gaze as she left the kitchen. Like a turtle coming out of its shell, Odessa poked her head back into the room. “I told him he could have the bottom shelf of your medicine cabinet. I hope you don’t mind.”
Cassidy forced a smile of resignation as Odessa disappeared again. Her aunt had done what a Christian should, opening their home to those in need. But there was still a portion of Cassidy that was unhappy about it. She didn’t wish misfortune on anyone, but why couldn’t it have been Dunbar who needed a place to stay? He would have been a lot more fun to have around. She lifted her arm and admired the gold bracelet decorating her wrist. It was a present from Dunbar. At least twice a month, he’d leave a box on her desk at the church. The box was always wrapped in pretty paper and capped with a bow. Dunbar attached a card each time, the message the same: I thank God for you.
chapter four
Daddy, are you listening?”
It was a struggle. Trevor was absorbed, reflecting upon the woman who’d filled his arms this afternoon. They attended the same church, but he didn’t know her. With a thousand members, there was no way you could know everyone. Mother Vale had spoken of her niece several times since he moved into the house, but Trevor couldn’t remember what she’d said her name was. Catherine. Cassandra. He was almost positive it was the second.
Trevor decided Cassandra resembled Mother Vale. Both had the same coffee-bean coloring, rich brown eyes silhouetted by lashes short but full, and a face more oval than round. Cassandra’s face and the rest of her, if he were honest, had become a tenant in his thoughts, difficult to evict. And that was an enigma, if ever there was one. Skinny women were not his type. Brenda had been full-figured, and full was how he liked his hands to be. But Cassandra’s slim body was a perfect fit next to his.
And all these hours later, it seemed he could still smell her sweet-scented skin, still feel her ragged breaths tapping below hi
s collarbone where his shirt was unbuttoned, still feel her soft palms lying against his chest. He had wanted to cover her hands with his larger ones and whisper against the flow of hair shading her ear that she shouldn’t be alarmed. But what else would she be, considering the way he had barged in on her and held her longer than necessary, then gawked at her like a boy of twelve while she stood there in that little white shirt.
He hadn’t meant to stare. Anyway, the material was thick enough that he couldn’t see anything. Not that he was trying. And Trevor had every intention of apologizing for the way he and his daughter had intruded, but Cassandra had zoomed from the room before giving him the chance.
Brandi asked another question. “Do you want some of our food, Daddy?”
Trevor suspended his musings to concentrate on his girls, the two of them sharing a cheesesteak and a basket of fries. He’d only ordered a soft drink for himself. “No, baby, I’m not hungry.” He wiped her mouth with one of the white restaurant napkins.
Brandi’s naturally wide eyes stayed on him. “Do you got a tummy ache?”
“Do you have a tummy ache?” he corrected with a gentle voice, and noticed that his elder child had ceased chewing, a fry doused with ketchup dangling midair as she waited for his response to her sister’s question. Brittney rarely had much to say to him anymore, but it did make him feel better to think she might harbor a pinch of interest. “No tummy ache, girls.” He smiled at them, then playfully pulled one of Brandi’s braids and rubbed a hand across the top of Brittney’s thick cornrows. The children resumed eating, and Trevor contemplated how one might express to girls this young that what ached was his heart; it was lonely, and missing their mother. Additional pain screwed through it as he watched a couple in a neighboring booth share a kiss. He hoped they knew how blessed they were.
