Forgivin' Ain't Forgettin'

by Mata Elliott

  “Here I am,” a happy voice answered. “Look over here.”

  Cassidy faced the sound and found the boy. He was on the bank, and there was a woman with him. The woman smiled at Cassidy.

  “She pulled me out,” the boy said. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

  Cassidy awakened in the dark bedroom. She wasn’t sure what hour it was, but she knew it was late. She remained on her back, her hands turned down on the bed. She dug her nails into the soft sheets and sat up straight. “He’s safe,” she marveled as her eyes adjusted to her dark surroundings. She laughed openly. “He’s safe,” she said again, recognizing for the first time that the boy in the dream represented her son. Pressing her arms across her breasts in X-formation, she looked up. “Thank You,” she whispered. She raised her hands to heaven. “Thank you, God,” she cried louder and louder as water seeped from her eyes.

  Cassidy praised the Lord for the rest of the night—sitting up, lying down, in and out of sleep, she praised Him.

  As promised, Trevor called the next morning. Cassidy told him about the dream, and he said he was happy for her, then rushed off the phone. Ordinarily, a peppy good-bye like the one he’d flipped to her would have irritated her, but she was still up on her spiritual mountain, feeling too good to come down for any reason.

  Brittney’s long face didn’t even get on her nerves today. And during prayer service that evening, when Yaneesha stood up and retracted everything she had said about Trevor, Cassidy didn’t feel the anger she thought she would. What she felt was sorry for Yaneesha. People who did things to intentionally hurt others were people in pain. Yaneesha needed God’s touch, and Cassidy would pray for her.

  After the close of service, Cassidy walked downstairs to pick up Brandi and Brittney from Kidpraise. On the way to the large room, her path joined with Pastor Audrey’s. “I know where God wants me,” she said to him. “I’ve known for a long time. My place is with the Sparrow Ministry.”

  “That’s right,” Clement said. “Your experiences have been painful, but the blessing is that those experiences will help you relate to someone else who has yet to overcome.” His eyes gleamed. “You know, your aunt would be proud of the young woman you’ve become. I said I wasn’t going to tell you this, but a few days before Mother Vale passed away, she told me about a vision she had. She said she saw you and Trevor exchanging wedding vows.”

  Cassidy felt her entire face smile. So her aunt had seen her wedding, after all.

  “You should continue to be encouraged where your marriage is concerned,” Clement said. “I imagine Mother Vale has formed a band of heavenly prayer warriors for you and Trevor.” He waved at a parishioner on the other side of the room. “And speaking of your husband, have him call me when he gets back in town.”

  Cassidy pinned Clement with a questioning look.

  “Uh-oh,” Clement said.

  She ground out each word. “You know where he is.”

  “Yes, but I can’t tell you.” Clement pulled an invisible zipper across his lips.

  “Oh, all right,” she finally relented, less concerned about Trevor now that she knew that the pastor was aware of his whereabouts.

  As Cassidy strolled through the parking lot, she continued to feel carefree and joyous, and the surprise she received as she unlocked Max’s door just made life sweeter. “I’ve been thinking,” Brittney said, “I might want to call you Mom sometimes.” She finished very businesslike, “I’ll let you know.”

  “I’ll let you know, too.” Brandi climbed into the car, her smile rich with ecstasy.

  “Why do you always have to copy me?” Brittney complained. “Cassidy, could you tell her to stop copying everything I do?”

  “Stop copying everything she does,” Cassidy responded lightly. She sat in the driver’s seat and turned to look at the girls. She had never asked the children to call her Mom, but she and Trevor had assured them it was all right if they wanted to. Cassidy had said then what she said now. “You’re both welcome to call me Mom. I would like that very much. But if you decide not to, that’s okay, too.” She smiled and the girls nodded. Once they were all buckled in, Cassidy pressed the button for the CD player. Bishop Colvin Culpepper sang about the goodness of God, and Cassidy and the children sang with him.

  chapter forty-five

  So ya’ll come to see an old lady?” Almondetta stepped aside so Cassidy and the children could enter her apartment.

  Cassidy kissed Almondetta on the cheek. “Hello, Mother Almondetta,” she said, and the girls echoed the greeting. On the way over, Cassidy told the girls they were to take their shoes off when they arrived. All of them in socks now, Almondetta offered them seats in the living room. Cassidy and the children shared one half of a plastic-covered sofa. Almondetta sat across from them in a high-back wing chair. She spread her skirt and rested her arms on the chair. She looked like a storybook queen sitting on her throne.

  “Where’s your dog?” Brandi asked. Cassidy had also prepared the children for Delightful, nowhere in sight at the moment.

  Almondetta’s face showed a glimmer of happiness for the first time. “She’s resting in my room. Would you girls like to go in and see her?”

  The children waited for Cassidy’s permission. Cassidy nodded yes. Minutes later, Almondetta returned to the living room without the children. “I put the television on. They’re watching cartoons with Delightful.” Almondetta sat back down in her chair. “Special Day ain’t been the same since you quit,” she snapped.

  “Well, I—”

  “No need to explain,” Almondetta interrupted. “Yaneesha wasn’t no help. Trifling girl was only in it for the money.” Almondetta addressed Cassidy’s confused eyes. “I’d forget and leave money in the pockets of my clothes that were in the hamper. Yaneesha was snooping around in there one day and found about forty dollars. After that, I knew Yaneesha was going to have to use the bathroom every time she came over. I left money in my clothes on purpose, to keep her coming back.” Almondetta shrugged. “Can’t be but so upset with her. Truth is, I wasn’t no better than she was. I didn’t care about the ministry as much as I cared about having some company.” She closed her eyes. “Lord, help me some more,” she prayed.

  Cassidy crossed the room and sat on the footstool beside Almondetta’s chair. “I’d like to visit you again, maybe next week”—Cassidy smiled and emphasized—“for free.”

  Almondetta cracked an eyelid. “Are you going to bring them sweet daughters with you?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “That’s what I want,” Almondetta answered, and patted Cassidy’s shoulder.

  “It’s my turn,” Brandi sang. She smacked a card on the growing pile, then looked at her big sister.

  Brittney sighed. “I don’t have anything.” She picked up a card from the other pile, and both girls stared at Cassidy.

  One of Cassidy’s legs threatened to go numb, and she shifted for a more comfortable position. The family room needed a card table and chairs, and Cassidy recorded the items on her mental shopping list. As of now, the small room that sat off the kitchen contained only a sofa and a stocked entertainment center, so the hardwood floor served as their seats.

  “Did you hear that?” Brittney’s eyes widened.

  Cassidy surveyed the line of cards in her hand, contemplating which card to throw down, while the smell of the spices baking into the chicken and broccoli casserole she’d prepared for dinner tiptoed into the room. “No, I didn’t hear anything,” she said.

  “I hear something, too,” Brandi said, her eyes big like her sister’s.

  Cassidy tilted her head. She heard something . . . no, someone . . . someone was in the back of the house.

  “I bet you it’s Daddy,” Brittney yelled, and the three females instantly put their card game on hold and rushed through the kitchen to the back door.

  “It’s Daddy!” Brandi screamed.

  The children ran down the deck steps to their father. Cassidy leaned over the rail and
watched the show. One daughter at a time, Trevor lifted and hugged them.

  “Did you bring us something?” Brandi asked with her head all the way back as she stared up at her superhero.

  The superhero teased, “Could be something on the front steps.”

  Brittney dashed away.

  “I hope it’s a baby elephant,” Brandi squealed, running behind her sister.

  It grew quiet. Only the chirp of birds and the steady buzz of a neighbor’s lawn mower sounded in the air. Trevor gazed upward, Cassidy downward. Her smile spoke the poem that was in her heart. I love you and I missed you and I’m so glad you’re home.

  Trevor smiled, too, as if he’d opened her heart and read every word. Cassidy trotted along the same path the children had, plastered against him, and their arms became locks. The embrace was broken only because he sneezed.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spray you.”

  She smiled. “I guess I’ll have that cold now, too.”

  “Come on,” he said. He grabbed his duffel bag from the hood of the SUV and held her hand. “There’s something you have to see.” Moments later, in their bedroom, they took side-by-side seats on the bed. He unzipped the duffel bag and clasped two envelopes. “This one first,” he said.

  She opened the larger envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. It was a letter, written by Trevor, and she read what it said.

  “I have you to thank for that,” he expressed when she finished. “I couldn’t have written it without your example of obedience to God’s Word.” He changed his mind. “Well, I might have written it, but not this soon.”

  Although Minister was dead, as part of her therapy, Cassidy had written a letter to him, telling him anything and everything she needed to say in order to release her anger, offer forgiveness, and experience closure. And since her talk with Vivaca and the prayers that followed, little by little it was becoming easier for Cassidy to remember Minister, her pregnancy, and her baby without attaching negative emotions to her memories. She continued to hold Trevor’s letter: his words to the man who had taken Brenda from him and the girls. In precise and poignant language, Trevor had told this man he forgave him and, most important, how much Jesus loved him.

  “I hadn’t forgiven him,” Trevor confessed. “I tried to convince myself that I had, but each time I attempted to pray for him, I couldn’t. I can now. I’ve made him a part of my prayers, and I’m going to send him this letter. I want him to know Jesus the same way I do.”

  “Now we’re both free,” she said gently, and Trevor knitted their fingers until they were palm-to-palm, as she ogled the other envelope. “What’s in that one?”

  “The reason for my disappearance.”

  He passed the white envelope to her and unlaced their fingers so she could extract the contents, which she did, her pulse throbbing in anticipation of something she sensed would be a significant event.

  A few minutes passed, and Cassidy was thankful Trevor had allowed her to spend them in silence, giving her room to ponder, and yearn, and memorize every facet of her little boy’s face. She knew it was her son in the picture. A mother knew. “Where did you get this?” Her voice was barely controlled as she gripped the edges of the small photograph as though it might fly away if she were to apply less pressure.

  “I drove upstate, and with a little amateur detective work, I came across an article at the library about families who have adopted. One of the families, the Walshes, adopted an abandoned baby. It was a long shot, but I tracked them down.” He turned his face away and coughed. “The Walshes had a daughter, so I knew I was at the wrong house. Surprisingly, though, they gave me the name of the social worker they had dealt with. Turned out he no longer worked with the Social Services Department, and the person I did speak with said the files were confidential and that I should go home. And that’s what I intended to do, believing it wasn’t meant for me to find anything about your son.” Trevor glanced at the bright-eyed boy in Cassidy’s hands. “I returned to my motel room, packed up my stuff, and this morning I left. I stopped at this prehistoric-looking gas station a few miles from the turnpike, and this old black guy came out to pump the gas and clean the windows.”

  “Mr. Roy Roper,” Cassidy said. “Everyone at Tilden knew him. I can’t believe he’s still alive.”

  “Mr. Roper started up a conversation, and I ended up telling him your story. Not fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in this poorly lit, smelly back room drinking coffee with Mr. Roper and a friend of his who he had asked to come over. His name was Mr. Johnny. Mr. Johnny has a daughter who adopted a little boy who was left at a hospital on the same night you gave birth.”

  “Mr. Johnny’s daughter adopted my son?”

  “Yes. She’s married, and they all live in another state. Mr. Johnny assured me the child is happy and healthy.”

  Cassidy flipped the picture. There was nothing written on the back. “What’s his name?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know Mr. Johnny’s last name, and that’s the way he wanted it. He said it’s always been his daughter’s wish to remain anonymous, and I told him we would respect that.”

  Although her accepting that she most likely would not hold her son again was not without challenge, she nodded in agreement with Trevor.

  “Mr. Johnny has cancer, and he believes his time is short. I believe that’s why God led me to do this for you now.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She leaned and kissed Trevor’s cheek.

  He squeezed her hand. “How are you doing behind all this?” he asked.

  Furnished with a peace she recognized as God, she said, “I’m okay.”

  “Mr. Johnny thought you should have something of the child, so he sent along this picture. It was taken three years ago. Mr. Johnny also sent a message. He said some teenagers leave their newborns to die in Dumpsters and toilets, so he thanks you for leaving the baby in the hospital. Because you did, he has a grandson. His only one.”

  “Most states,” she said, “give women the option of turning their unwanted newborns over to authorities with no questions asked. It’s much safer for the baby to give him or her up that way instead of the way I chose to do it.” Cassidy smiled at her son. He had her eyes and skin tone. “Pepperoni—that’s what I nicknamed him while he was in my womb.”

  “Why would someone who detests pizza nickname their baby Pepperoni?”

  “I haven’t always detested it. When I was pregnant, I craved pepperoni pizza day and night. But ever since, just the smell of pizza makes me want to—”

  “Throw up,” he completed, smiling slightly.

  “Yes.” She smiled at him. The girls had come inside the house, and their laughter suggested they were thrilled with whatever Trevor had brought them.

  “Are you still interested in making Herbie a part of our family?” he asked.

  Cassidy knew that elation showed in her eyes. “Yes. I’ve never stopped asking the Lord to make a way for it to happen.” They talked about Herbie for a few minutes, and then she reached up and rubbed the hard kinks in Trevor’s neck. “You’re tired.”

  “Some,” he admitted.

  “Would you like a cup of tea? It might help you get over that cold sooner.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Cassidy walked across the room and rested her photograph on the dresser, against the mirror. Tomorrow she would go to the store and buy the perfect frame for it.

  She cast a glance over her shoulder. Her husband had fallen back on the bed and laid his arm over his eyes. His breathing was even and heavy, a signal he was almost asleep, if not already sleeping. Cassidy knelt in front of his legs and untied his laces. She removed his sneakers and socks, then tenderly massaged each foot as rays of early evening sun spilled over her shoulders, washing Trevor’s feet and her hands with warm light.

  reading group guide

  1. It isn’t unusual for gossip to start surrounding a recently widowed (or divorced) person who resumes dating or even becomes
engaged. Do you think there’s an appropriate time lapse for a person to “mourn” a relationship before embarking on a new one? Why or why not? What reservations do you have about hooking up with someone who lost a former partner through death or divorce?

  2. When depression threatens, Cassidy pulls out a memory verse to encourage herself. What scriptures do you keep on tap, so to speak, to lift your spirit?

  3. To what degree are you content in the life God has given you—single or married? How do you relate to friends who are in different phases of life—or different degrees of contentment?

  4. Cassidy knows her scripture, studies the Bible regularly, and truly believes the Word. However, she doesn’t feel worthy of claiming the promise of God’s peace and sustenance by surrendering her past to the Lord. What keeps you from laying hold of God’s promises?

  5. Considering that both Cassidy and Trevor are wrestling with issues of grief, their discussion about tears raises interesting questions. How do you grieve? How do you relate to others—men and women—who grieve differently? What does scripture say about grief?

  6. Derek doesn’t want Trevor to call Social Services or the police about his abusive and neglectful mother. At the same time, he struggles against hatred for her. How would you counsel youth like Derek?

  7. What vibe do you get from the Special Day ministry meetings? Have you ever had a similar experience in a ministry—one that just didn’t feel quite right? What was it about the ministry?

  8. Like Brenda, Aunt Odessa dies without warning, giving no one opportunity to say good-bye. What comfort can we find when a loved one passes away suddenly?

  9. While it is true Rave had ulterior motives for expressing concern about Trevor and Cassidy’s living arrangements, Pastor Audrey seems to feel the concern is legitimate. Do you agree? Why or why not? How much effort do you expend in avoiding situations that might tempt you?

  10. Do you believe in love at first sight? If so, how do you define it? What do you think of Oliver Toby’s definition: “I’m saying that I only wanted good for Louise [from the first time he saw her]. She immediately became a part of my prayers . . . That’s what true love is: wanting the best for the other person”?