by Mata Elliott
He swung around and lifted the photo of Brenda from his desk. His head was congested with questions, and he began throwing some of them out to God. Are the feelings I have for Cassidy the real deal? Maybe he was just looking for a quick replacement. Shouldn’t I wait a few years before getting involved with someone? A three- to five-year interim following the death of a beloved spouse seemed honorable.
He placed Brenda’s picture alongside the one of his daughters. Minutes later, outwardly composed, Trevor penetrated the adjoining office. Cassidy was wearing the white denim dress he’d become familiar with, and he thought she looked as beautiful as the white carnations in the vase on Grace’s desk.
“Hi, Trevor,” she greeted warmly, and set aside her drink. “I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”
Cassidy smiled at Trevor. Her smile was not returned, and she was sure she had disturbed him. “Your establishment is quite impressive,” she said, giving friendliness another try. Trevor’s expression remained closed, as did his mouth. Uncomfortable with the gaping silence, she felt obliged to fill it. “That’s a compliment coming from someone who’d rather have vegetables than cake, Trevor.”
Grace chuckled nervously. Trevor shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “Thank you,” he said flatly.
Grace shot him with a look of chastisement before turning to Cassidy and softening the emotion in her eyes. “Well, now, you didn’t get to see everything.” Grace talked rapidly, as if she were trying to rescue Cassidy. “How about an inside look at how we get the cream in the puffs?”
The stern creases streaking Trevor’s forehead encouraged Cassidy to refuse. She smiled at Grace and said, “Perhaps another day.” Cassidy grabbed her purse and hurried to the door.
“Well, you’re always welcome to come by for a visit,” Grace said, her heels clicking behind Cassidy. “Don’t forget your muffin, love.” The bag passed hands as the phone rang. “That might be the call I’ve been waiting for.” She looked at Trevor as sternly as before, yet her tone held respect. “Why don’t you see Cassidy out?” she said.
“That won’t be necessary, Grace.” Cassidy marched out of the room and down the hall, her glare stamped upon the steel door in front of her.
“Don’t open that,” Trevor warned gently as she was about to push the handle. “It’s a fire exit. You’ll set off the alarms.”
Alarms were going off in Cassidy’s head. What an idiot she’d been. She hadn’t opened the door to her heart, but she had cracked a few of the windows by sitting with Trevor, holding his hand for a pair of nights, dishing out pieces of her life. And every night since, they’d stayed up late, talking at the kitchen table or on the front steps.
Cassidy had felt safe with him.
She was sure it had much to do with the type of person he was. Trevor was a quiet man. The way he handled his daughters, spoke his words, moved his body—all unassuming confidence and strength she admired. She remembered how initially she hated the unnerving way he could enter a room so inconspicuously. Now it was something she found utterly appealing.
And she had not ended up at his workplace today by chance. Wanting to see him and his business, she had come on purpose. During one of their late-evening conversations, Trevor had told her how hard he had worked to start Seconds and how it had flourished. She woke up this morning with the giddy urge to see it firsthand.
“Which way is out?” she bit into the air.
He turned into a narrow corridor and led the way. Stepping aside, he held the door. “These steps will take you down to the main floor. Make a left and go straight.”
Her hand on the banister, Cassidy stomped down the first three stairs before stopping, turning, and lifting her gaze. Her fire-and-vinegar stare tangled with eyes too dark to read. Angry words steamed inside her, but the will to vent them disappeared under a cloud of disappointment. She had thought Trevor was different, but she returned to her original assumption: Trevor was a jerk, no better than Larenz and Minister . . . and nothing at all like Dunbar.
chapter twenty-five
Houston sauntered through the entrance of Time Out, and Trevor waved him over to the booth.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” Houston instructed the waiter of the bar-and-grill restaurant. He slid onto the seat, looking to Trevor. “What are you having?”
Trevor lifted his glass. “Strawberry lemonade.”
“Strawberry lemonade it is, then.” Houston smiled at the young waiter.
Trevor passed Houston the small plate on the end of their rectangular table. “Help yourself to the appetizers.”
Houston’s grin looked hungry. “Grace would have a conniption if she saw me eating this stuff. Every meal I’ve had since our barbecue has been green, leafy, and taste-free. It’s been fourteen years since my heart attack, and I’m still under surveillance.”
Trevor hadn’t given Houston’s diet restrictions a thought when he ordered the appetizers. “When the waiter brings your drink, I’ll order you a salad.”
Houston laughed. “You’ll be the one eating it.” He forked two cheese-stuffed potato skins and several spicy chicken fingers onto his plate. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this invitation?”
Trevor paused as the waiter served Houston’s drink. When they were alone, he said, “I’m having strong feelings for someone.”
Houston wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin and said, “Cassidy Beckett.”
Trevor frowned. “How did you know I was talking about Cassidy?”
“I saw the way you were grinning like you’d taken a drug for it when you brought her to the barbecue.” Houston chewed and swallowed. “Your children seemed to like her, too.”
“It’s remarkable how well the girls respond to her.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Trevor dunked a chicken finger into a miniature cup of honey mustard sauce and bit off a large chunk of the tender meat. He picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth. “I didn’t expect to feel like this toward someone so quickly behind Brenda. I’m thinking that maybe the timing’s all wrong.”
“When would the timing be right?”
“I didn’t just ask you here to stuff your mouth with food. You’re supposed to help me figure that out.”
“I see.” Houston grinned. “Well, have you ever read Proverbs 3, verses 5 and 6?”
“Yes.”
“Then there’s the answer.” Houston quoted a portion of the passage. “In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.”
Trevor smirked and leaned all the way back in the seat.
The waiter came and took their orders, then Houston counseled further. “Look, I’m not trying to be callous about what you’re going through. But it would be easy for me to give my opinion, which, by the way, I will. However, my opinion pales in comparison to the Word of God. And the Word is where every problem and concern we have is addressed. All the answers are there. If you approach God with a sincere heart, He’ll steer you down the right road, and you’ll have peace about the situation.”
“Proverbs 3, 5 and 6,” Trevor repeated.
“That’s where it’s at. And remember, son, God’s time is never early or late. And it’s His pleasure to bless you. Now, I’m not saying Cassidy is, or isn’t, that blessing. But wouldn’t it be better to find out than live with the regret of never knowing what could have been?” Houston held Trevor’s gaze. “We both know Brenda would want you to share all that love you have inside you with the woman of God’s choosing. So”—he raised his glass—“here’s to finding out who she is and to new beginnings.”
“These are for you.” Trevor’s tone was sensitive as he presented a dozen red roses. Cassidy was seated at the table and refused to glance at him as she ingested a thick greenish orange substance he suspected was something she had created with her juicer.
Cassidy stood and traveled toward the sink, gripping the glass. She had changed out of the dress she’d had on earlier and into faded jeans and a sweatshi
rt. Still, he thought she looked perfect. Wringing water out of the dishcloth, she finally spoke, a tart response Trevor felt he deserved. “You can put them with the others.”
From where he stood, he searched the room. A vase of roses, twice as many as he was holding, decorated a corner of the counter. He marched over and removed the card lodged between two of the red blooms. It was none of his business who sent the flowers, but he wanted to know just the same. He opened the small envelope and read the card.
C. C., I’m always here for you.
Dunbar
Trevor tightened his hands, putting an unintentional dog-ear in the card from Dunbar as he contemplated pulling Dunbar’s flowers out of the vase and putting his bouquet in their place. Resisting the childish urge, Trevor hunted for another vase. He filled it with water, stuffed his roses inside, and pulled each one up high so it looked as if there were almost as many in his presentation as there were in Dunbar’s.
“There,” he said, and whipped around to find he was alone.
Cassidy had gone to the basement, and he joined her by the washing machine, where she measured detergent. No tolerance for guessing games tonight, he asked, “What is the extent of your relationship with Dunbar?”
Cassidy replied with the iciness of an East Coast winter, “I’m not discussing that with you.”
Trevor calmed himself with a deep breath. “Listen, I know I behaved poorly this afternoon.” Creating emotional distance until he’d sorted through his feelings for Cassidy had seemed the best thing to do. Now he saw it for what it was. Stupid. One by one, Cassidy pulled towels from a laundry bag and pitched them into the rising water. He grasped her elbow with his fingertips, halting her work. “Today, when you showed up, I was shocked, and I wasn’t ready for you or Grace or anyone to see how happy I was that you were there.” She gunned a glance at him, then wriggled out of his clasp. “I realize I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”
She threw in the last towel and slammed down the top of the machine. “Yes, you are sorry. As sorry and insensitive as most of the men I’ve gotten too close to.” Moisture dampened the fire in her eyes. The washing machine grunted as it began washing the towels, and she looked at it instead of him.
Bothered by the hurt he saw, he longed to embrace her, but he settled for the next best thing and caressed her with a warm voice. “You still have open wounds, courtesy of Larenz.”
Curtly but softly, she said, “My issue with Larenz is none of your business.”
His tone lingered soft, too. “Mother Vale told me what happened with him—how he wanted sex, but that ever since you were a teenager, you wanted your husband to be the first man you gave yourself to.” He cupped her chin and lifted her head, sinking his eyes into her watery gaze. “She told me how he deserted you in the park when you wouldn’t submit to his demands.” A pulse in Trevor’s clenched jaw started jumping. He had never respected Larenz. Larenz was quick to gossip about the women of Charity Community whom he’d dated. Once, Trevor led him aside and told him it was inappropriate to spread details about his church sisters throughout the congregation. Larenz became defensive and stepped up in his face, but when Trevor didn’t back down, Larenz stormed away.
“Aunt Odessa had no business telling you what happened between me and Larenz.”
“She told me because she understood how much I care for you.” He waited for her to respond. “Sky,” he whispered deeply, his fingers still caressing her chin. “Look at me.”
Cassidy hesitated, complied, then lowered her eyes again.
“I’m just as scared as you are,” he confessed. “But I’m not going to let fear keep me from loving you.” Her wide eyes, vulnerable and truth-seeking, rose and examined him. “That’s right,” he reassured her, “I love you.” His gaze and voice never faltered as he said it again, then did what he could no longer resist. Clasping her upper arms, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the gold stud in her ear. He slid his mouth along her warm cheek and kissed once . . . twice . . . a third time, drawing an invisible line to the corner of her lips as her breathing touched his face with the softness of a butterfly and her palm came to rest on the flat of his chest. He slowly pulled back so he could not merely feel but also read her reaction. She studied him, too, her eyes dreamy with wonder and welcome. It was the permission he needed to continue, and Trevor’s heart soared as he drifted down and hovered over her mouth as if saying a prayer of thanks before relaxing his lips against hers.
As their lips parted, she whispered, “He’s only my friend.”
“What?” Trevor eased up his head, but kept her close.
“Dunbar. We’re just good friends.”
Trevor hugged Cassidy and smiled. He’d forgotten about Dunbar. And right now Trevor didn’t want to think about him. His mind was on the woman in his arms, and he thanked God for bringing her into his life at the perfect time.
chapter twenty-six
Picnic tables draped with checkered cloths stretched across a large area of thriving green grass. There was enough food spread from table to table to feed all of Charity Community’s families and then some.
Vivaca Audrey kissed Cassidy’s cheek. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here today.”
“The last thing Aunt Odessa would sanction is me sitting at home moping in her honor,” Cassidy said as Clement enveloped her in a giant bear hug. The pastor and his wife turned to Trevor and the children.
“Now, who do we have here?” Vivaca asked.
Brittney put her hand on Herbie’s shoulder. “This is Herbie.”
Brandi smiled and took hold of Herbie’s hand. He was only a couple of inches taller than Brandi, although he was closer in age to Brittney. “He’s our special guest,” Brandi exploded.
“He’s one of my SAFE boys,” Trevor added.
Vivaca and Herbie had a similar medium brown skin tone, and Cassidy had always thought Vivaca’s brown eyes seemed to sing when she smiled. Vivaca clutched Herbie’s face and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Herbie.”
Cassidy smiled, a happy dance taking place in her heart as Herbie nodded.
Clement snaked his arm around Vivaca’s shoulder, and the couple walked away to say hello to others attending the annual Charity Community Church picnic.
One of the youth workers announced it was time for games and all participants were to convene at the bottom of the hill in fifteen minutes. Sheila, a little girl the same age as Brittney, skipped up to her and said, “My dad’s going to race with me in the father-daughter relay.” Sheila skipped away.
Like watercolors on paper, shades of emotion washed together in Trevor’s expression. There was hope that Brittney would ask him to be her partner, and fear that she wouldn’t, and happiness when she looked up at him, her countenance timid, as if she thought that after so many months of pushing him away, he might now do the same to her. She asked no louder than the wind, scarcely blowing today, “Will you be my partner, Daddy?”
Cassidy continued to stare as Trevor heaved a sizable breath of hallelujah. “I’d love to be your partner,” he said.
Brandi poked out her bottom lip, tugging at the hem of Trevor’s long shorts. “What about me?”
Trevor scooped Brandi from the grass, and he and Brittney and Herbie walked out of sight. Cassidy looked sideways. She was under intense scrutiny.
“You seem different today,” Lena remarked.
“Do I?” Cassidy let a mischievous smile form.
“Oh my goodness, something’s going on,” Lena squealed, and bounced up and down. “Tell me, girl. You better tell me.”
Cassidy saw that her friend was a bounce away from combustion, and she decided to do the humane thing and put her out of her misery. “Trevor kissed me.”
Lena grew bug-eyed. “He what?” she whispered, then screamed, “Get . . . out!”
Two church mothers and the president of the usher board stopped talking long enough to glare with suspicion.
“Will you shush?” Cassidy command
ed. “You’re drawing attention.”
“Let’s walk over here.” Lena hurried to lead the way up and down a small embankment. “So when did all this happen?” Her smile was excited.
Cassidy slipped her hands in the pockets of her Bermuda shorts. “Last night.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t call me.” Lena frowned, but the lines quickly lifted. “Does this mean the two of you are a couple?”
Cassidy wasn’t ready to divulge what Trevor had confided. She was struggling to process it herself. “We haven’t talked about it,” she said. This morning, while the girls were upstairs and Trevor and Cassidy found themselves alone in the kitchen for a few minutes, they talked about today’s picnic-perfect weather and that time about five years ago when the picnic was turned into an indoor potluck because of heavy rain. But neither of them had mentioned last night.
“We would have won first place if Sheila’s legs weren’t so long.” Brittney collapsed on the blanket. She lay on her back, arms and legs sprawled, a second-place ribbon in one hand. Trevor sat on the blanket next to Cassidy and leaned back on his elbows. “Next year,” Brittney said, “I’ll be a lot taller, and Sheila and her dad had better watch out.”
Brandi’s eyes were sincere. “What if Sheila grows more, too?”
Brittney smacked her hands to the sides of her head. “I didn’t think of that.”
Everyone laughed but Brittney. “I hope Sheila’s not going to brag tomorrow during Kidpraise.” She whined, “Daddy, do I have to go?”
Trevor sized up Brittney. It was time to talk. Cassidy had shared that Brittney was uncomfortable attending children’s church but felt that Brittney should be the one to tell him why. “Britt, I’ll listen to whatever it is you want to say. So can you trust me enough to tell me what it is about Kidpraise that upsets you?”
The little girl pushed up and sat on her bottom. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Cassidy stood. “I’m going to fix our plates.” She asked Brandi and Herbie, “Would you two like to help?”
“Yes,” Brandi said, shooting to her feet, and Herbie jumped up, too.
