by Mata Elliott
“I’m here for you, Britt,” Trevor said, and twisted one of her braids around his finger.
She seemed to be weighing his words or her thoughts or both. “It’s not the same since Mom’s not there,” she finally said.
The simple statement belted Trevor in the throat. What was wrong with him? How could he not have considered Brittney and Brandi’s predicament? It had to be difficult for them to go to Kidpraise, the ministry their mother had served on. He slid closer to Brittney.
“Mommy used to let me help pass out the crayons and the glue sticks. Sister Peterson only lets the eleven-year-olds help. I wish I could still help.”
“Brittney,” was all Trevor could say, and he encouraged her to rest her head on his rib cage as he thought of a suggestion. “Sister Peterson’s here today. Why don’t we ask her if you can help some Sundays?”
“What if she says no?”
“What if she says yes?”
Cassidy stood among a light crowd watching the annual Ping-Pong tournament play out between the trustees and the deacons. Trevor came up behind her, close enough to catch the gentle scent of her skin. His voice was a whisper. “Will you walk with me?”
She turned and took a step backward, adding inches to the space between them. “Where are the girls and Herbie?”
“Having their faces painted.” As Cassidy bit her lip and hesitated further, Trevor did not show his disappointment.
“Okay,” she ultimately said, and his heart felt light again. She asked, “What did Sister Peterson say about Brittney helping in Kidpraise?”
Trevor smiled. “She said yes.”
“Good,” Cassidy said, and smiled her happiness, too.
Now that they could no longer be seen by Charity Community members, Trevor took Cassidy’s hand. The two walked along a stony trail balanced with trees and wildflowers. A stream running parallel to the path gurgled, and above, birds whistled and cawed. Not ready to bring up last night, for fear of pushing, Trevor decided to let Cassidy start the conversation. As they approached the banks of the stream, she spoke. “I love walking.”
“Brenda and I used to . . .” He let the words fade, supposing it might not be appropriate to go on and on about Brenda now that he’d declared his love for Cassidy. “I don’t mean to talk about her so much.”
“I don’t mind. At the grief support meeting, the counselors advised us to talk about our loved ones.” She kicked a pebble, and it scooted ahead. “Have you ever gone to any of the meetings?”
Trevor crouched low to the ground and tugged up a few blades of grass. “No.”
“You should,” she said. She watched as he twirled the blades between his thumb and index finger. “What were you going to say about Brenda?”
Trevor appreciated that Cassidy was okay with him talking about Brenda. He stood, releasing the grass. The strands floated to the earth and blended into a carpet of green. “I was going to say that Brenda and I used to take long walks.” He reached for Cassidy and united their hands again. They watched the moving water. “I meant what I said last night,” he said, turning and tipping his head to stare down at the beauty by his side. “I love you.” The hope she would say the same bubbled over in his heart. “I’d like to get to know you a whole lot better. Spend more time with you. How do you feel about that?”
There was no stalling. “I’ve been through a lot, Trevor.” She ducked her eyes, then raised them. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” He stepped in front of Cassidy and captured her arms near the shoulders, his thumbs rubbing there, bunching the sleeves of her cotton shirt. “I’m not into games, Sky. I didn’t say I love you because I didn’t have anything else to say.” He stroked her with a thoughtful gaze. “Before you decide a committed relationship can’t work between us, go home and pray about it. That’s all I ask. Will you pray about it . . . about us?”
A slow, bashful smile made an appearance on her lips while her eyes reflected the sincerity of her verbal vow. “Yes,” she said, “I’ll pray.”
Putting her ears close to other people’s business, Rave listened as Lena told Hulk that Trevor had kissed Cassidy. So incensed she couldn’t swallow, Rave pitched her half-full plate of fried chicken, deviled eggs, and pasta salad into a nearby receptacle. She hung her thumbs in the back pockets of her low-rise jeans, her mind reeling with mischief. It was time to put an end to this Trevor-Cassidy crap, and she knew exactly how to do it.
Walking as if fire nipped at her heels, she stomped through a group of children nearing completion of a sand castle in the sandlot, obliterating their handiwork with one swift kick. She ignored their sad wails and the furious exclamations of one of the mothers. However, Rave paid close attention to the whistles of a group of volleyball-playing young men and slowed her steps to bask in the attention, assuming a hip-swinging stride that inspired old Brother Henshaw, reclining in a lawn chair, cataracts in both eyes, to sit up straighter.
Rave located the root of her anger. Shielded behind the body of a large tree, she opened her purse and wrapped her hand around the medium that would deliver the punishment she sought. She caressed the body of the black instrument, thrill shooting through her heart as she lifted the device. She steadied and aimed at the couple. Her finger on the spot that would ignite the blow, she whispered, “Bang.”
chapter twenty-seven
Cassidy,” Yaneesha screamed repeatedly as she entered the ladies’ room, drowning out the voices of the after-church crowd. She banged on several stall doors before reaching the door Cassidy stood behind. Cassidy flushed the toilet and straightened her skirt. Still on fire from the sermon Pastor Audrey had just preached on overcoming the enemy, Cassidy unlocked the door and, without fear, stepped out to face Yaneesha to find out why she was behaving like a lunatic.
Yaneesha puffed her cheeks and huffed, “You knew I had feelings for him.”
Cassidy observed Yaneesha. A band of sweat had turned the edges of her head glossy. “I don’t know what or who you’re talking about.”
“Trevor,” she snapped. “I told you I was going to be his wife.” She threw her words. “You said you didn’t want to be with anyone. You said you were satisfied not having a man. So why did you kiss him?”
“What?”
“Why did you kiss him?” she screamed, and held up a flyer-size sheet. Some of the sisters who had backed away eased forward to get a better view of the large color print of Trevor and Cassidy doing exactly what Yaneesha had alleged. The kiss had taken place during the church picnic by the stream. One brief kiss that was more Trevor kissing her than she kissing him. It must have lasted all of five seconds.
“Oh, my dang,” one young woman drawled over Cassidy’s shoulder, while another told Cassidy, “You go, girl.”
Cassidy snatched the paper from Yaneesha. “Where did you get this?”
“Someone put them on all the cars in the parking lot.” Yaneesha removed her glasses. The rage in her eyes turned to sadness, and tears marred her makeup. Cassidy felt the urge to apologize but wasn’t sure of what exactly she would be apologizing for. She hadn’t purposefully tried to hurt Yaneesha.
“Oh, come on, now,” a deaconess said, putting her arm around Yaneehsa and leading her from the bathroom. “There are plenty of young men at this church who’d be interested in getting to know you . . .”
The ladies’ room slowly returned to normal as a new set of women came in, unaware of the events that had just taken place. Cassidy threw the picture in the trash and washed her hands.
“It’s not even funny,” Cassidy said to Lena that night.
“Yeah, it is a little funny but only because you’re taking it too seriously. Who cares that someone took a picture of you and Trevor and passed it out? Somebody’s just jealous is all.”
“It’s creepy,” Cassidy said, continuing the phone call that had started fifteen minutes ago.
“Only if you make it creepy. Now, if it happens again, I’d start to get concer
ned. Otherwise, just forget about it and go on with life.” There was a pause. “So are you seriously considering coming off the Special Day team?”
“I’m serious. Mother Almondetta and Yaneesha aren’t taking it to heart. When they aren’t gossiping or eating cake, Yaneesha’s in the bathroom doing who knows what. I’m doing all the work. Yaneesha has yet to visit one senior, whereas I’ve visited everyone on my list and hers. And now with Yaneesha acting all crazy because of this picture mess, I’m not sure I feel like dealing with her right now.”
“I think we need to close this call with some prayer, girl.”
“Sounds good. I need direction about this and . . . and what to do about Trevor,” she admitted softly. It was difficult to believe she was actually open to praying about exploring a serious relationship with someone. But Trevor had altered her thinking. She knew his heart really wasn’t anything like Larenz’s or Minister’s. Trevor had a pure heart. One that strived to please God. One that genuinely cared about others.
Lena prayed with confidence and authority, differently than Cassidy had ever heard her pray, evidence Lena was spending more time with the Lord. After Cassidy hung up with Lena, Cassidy reached for the Bible Odessa had cherished, Cassidy’s Bible now. Over the years, Odessa had highlighted many verses in yellow or pink, and Cassidy read a few of them now. She ended with It is good for me to draw near to God as she eased from her bed to her knees.
Rave listened to the jingle of keys and the click of metal that foretold the opening of the front door. She smiled impishly, enjoying the shocked look on Dunbar’s face as he walked in and found her sitting on his glass dining room table with her legs curled to one side as if she were in the palms of a photo shoot.
“How did you get in here?” he demanded. He tossed his briefcase onto the sofa and put his hands on his hips, pulling the front of his suit coat back on both sides.
“Your neighbor let me in,” she said. “He found me waiting in the hall and asked if he could help. I told him I was your cousin, here for the weekend, and had forgotten the key you gave me.” She slid a slim finger up her naked leg to the hem of her micromini. Dunbar’s gaze followed the path. “That’s when he said you and he had exchanged keys in case of an emergency and, well, you can guess the rest.” The wicked smile continued. “I missed you at the church picnic yesterday. Where were you?”
“I had to do a funeral.”
“That’s too bad,” Rave said, “because your girlfriend had a good time without you.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he snapped, removing his jacket. “Now, what do you want?”
“I want your help.”
“Rave, it’s almost midnight. I’ve been in Baltimore all day, where I preached two youth services. I’m really tired, so I need you to get to the point. And then get out,” he said as politely as those words could be delivered.
“I want you to help me break up Trevor and Cassidy,” Rave said.
Dunbar flashed her a tense glance, then marched to the kitchen and pulled a can of ginger ale from the refrigerator, popped open the top, and drank. He lowered the can. “There’s nothing to break up.”
“I believe the picture hanging inside your freezer says differently.”
Dunbar opened the top half of the refrigerator and pulled out one of the sheets she had paid some kid in the neighborhood to attach to all the cars in the church lot.
“Now, now, Dunbie,” she cooed, “I know you’ve seen the way Cassidy watches Trevor when she thinks no one is paying attention.” She scooted from the table. “And the way she stands still and stops breathing whenever Trevor comes close to her.” She walked slowly toward Dunbar. “And the way her eyes sparkle whenever Trevor laughs.”
Watching Dunbar turn grim with jealousy pushed Rave close to giggles, but she pulled on her “let’s get down to business” face and came to stand in front of him. She took the can from his hand, filled her mouth with soda, and swallowed. “I know you want to do Cassidy as much as I want to do Trevor,” she said after the soda bubbles cleared her throat. “That’s why we’d make the perfect relationship-sabotage team.” She softened her voice. “Now, why don’t we go into your bedroom and discuss things further?” she suggested, sliding her hands to his belt buckle and unfastening it.
“Is Pastor Audrey in?” Rave never intended to wait for an answer. Dressed in a conservative gray suit and low heels with her hair spun into a back-of-the-head bun, she flounced past Francine’s desk, creating a breeze that carried a small sheet of paper to the floor.
Francine halted her work at the PC. “You cannot barge in here, Sister Brown. Pastor has a jammed schedule today.” She rose and thumped to the side of her desk.
Rave panned Francine from the top of her outdated hairdo to the toe of her old-lady pumps. “I’m sure Pastor Audrey can squeeze me in.”
Clement opened the door of his office. “Francine, here’s that document for review.”
“I’ll see to it right away,” she said, her glare tacked on Rave.
Clement’s scrutiny rested on Rave as well. “Good morning, Sister Brown.”
“Pastor,” Rave greeted, rolling her eyes at, then away from, Francine. “I’ve been informed that I don’t have an appointment. However, there’s a matter that requires prompt attention.”
Clement took a moment and assessed Rave. He smiled at the other woman. “I have a few minutes, Francine. It’s okay.”
Rave perched on the edge of a desk-front chair, crossed her nylon-covered legs, and began speaking without affording Clement the luxury of taking his seat. “As you know, I’m a dedicated member of your flock.” She folded her hands on her knee, observing her fingernails, palely polished, solely for this encounter. “I pay tithes, I attend our weekly Bible study, I—”
Clement silenced her with a wave of his hand as he sat behind his desk. “Let’s open with prayer, Sister Brown.”
Rave projected a smile, simply to appease Clement. “Of course, Reverend. Communication with the Lord should never be neglected. Will you be doing the honors?” Her pastor’s face was a picture of no nonsense as he planted his elbows near the edge of the desk and merged the tips of his fingers and thumbs, forming a replica of a steeple. He shut his eyes.
Rave’s remained wide open, the prayer falling on uninterested ears as she tinkered with the idea of kissing her shepherd. Not on the cheek like the church mothers and little girls did after Sunday morning service, but on the lips, like his wife would. Clement Audrey wasn’t Rave’s type, so broad and bald. Yet he did have his finer points. Smooth skin. Full lips. Generous hands. She fantasized about the pleasure those hands could bring.
“Rave!” Clement chopped the air with a heavy voice.
Rave jerked as if someone had whacked her with a paddle.
“That was the third time I said your name.”
She covered the embarrassing moment with a synthetic grin.
“You were about to tell me why you needed to see me,” he said.
“Yes, and I’m sure you don’t mind me speaking to you frankly.” Rave batted her lids. “The children and youth of this church and community are of the utmost importance to me,” she began.
“Oh, I was unaware you served on any of our children or youth ministries.”
Rave, remembering to exhibit her best behavior, caught a nasty retort before it escaped through her lips. She made a short succession of phony, high-pitched chuckles. “Pastor Audrey, you’re so the comedian.”
“I’m also very busy today, so if you could fast-forward to the crux of your concern, it would be a blessing.”
Rave’s tone quickly changed from melodic to slicing. “I question, as I’m sure you will, too, the appropriateness of two of your members’ living arrangements.”
Hands clasped and propped on his belly, Clement leaned back in his chair. “Of whom are we speaking?”
“Trevor Monroe and Cassidy Beckett.” Rave said the names as if she were turning in two of America’s most wanted. “They have
heated feelings for each other, or did you not see the picture someone posted all over the church grounds yesterday?”
The room became quiet, and Rave felt like she’d opened a window and Pastor Audrey could see she was the culprit behind the production and distribution of the photo. She reached into her vault of smiles and found something sweet that would give her spirit the shine of virtue and continued in a demure tone, “I think it’s unwise for Trevor and Cassidy to be sharing a house. Why, I’ve heard you preach many times how a man and a woman who are attracted to each other should not place themselves in a situation where it’s difficult to say no.” She leaned forward as if she were divulging top-secret information. “Trevor is a young man, Pastor, and it can’t be easy for him to be without the luxuries of married life.” She straightened, pulled a lace hankie from her purse, and pressed it to her lips as she whispered, “Well, I need not say more.” Yet she did. “Satan will use a woman like Cassidy to lead Trevor straight into the snare of sin and shame. I’m sure you’ve heard of how she tried to seduce Larenz Flemings.”
“As difficult as it may be to believe, Sister Brown, I try not to hear about everything that goes on around here.”
“Well, I just hope it’s not too late.”
Clement resumed an upright posture and placed his folded hands on the desk. “Just what are you trying to say?”
Although the room was comfortably cool, Rave dabbed the perimeters of her face with her handkerchief, feigning fluster at being asked for specifics. “Trevor and Cassidy may already be indulging in”—she fell to a whisper—“the works of the flesh.”
“Okay,” Clement said abruptly, and stood. “It’s time to adjourn this meeting.”
Fine! She’d said what she’d come to say. With an upward thrust, she stood, ironed the wrinkles out of her skirt with an open palm, covered Clement with one last disapproving look, and strutted the short distance to the door.
Trevor jumped into his truck and drove back to the church from Seconds. He needed to remind the custodial staff that the SAFE kids would be staying late tomorrow for a volleyball tournament, and they would not be able to clean the gymnasium until after four. The church parking lot was empty except for three cars, and Trevor grabbed a spot near the gym door and entered through the rear of the building. After speaking with Charlie Young, a member of the custodial crew who was the man to see when you needed information transmitted efficiently, he was hailed by Portia in the stairwell.
