Page 1 of Evan

Chapter 1

The two-bedroom cottage was quaint. Faded red bricks, with a chimney jutting from the roof, it was home and ensconced in the slight dip at several feet from the towering building that housed the Russel Baptist church, affording complete privacy.

There was a white picket fence surrounding the small yard and summer flowers were already in bloom.

It was approaching 9.00 p.m., but the sun was persistently and firmly outlined in the middle of a sky that had changed from the brilliant teal blue to a kind of darker hue tinged with gray and white puffy clouds.

The humidity was heavy, the air still, the surrounding trees scarcely moving their bright green leaves as if completely depleted of energy.

It had been that kind of day and even at this time of the night, the heat was still lingering. The weather report had predicted late afternoon showers that were going to last through the night.

She had been delayed at the church office due to a crisis with a member who had lost her only son to a tragic accident just two days ago. Cassandra had stayed back with Pastor James to help alleviate the woman’s crushing grief.

The meeting had been interspersed with wailing from the woman’s family and grieving moments from the pastor and herself. Chad had been attending the church since he was five years old and was the same age as herself.

Cassandra had felt the crushing sadness because she had been close with the young man. They had gone through Sunday school together and only recently; the entire congregation had celebrated his moving to California to start a brand-new job in a well-established law firm.

Blinking back the tears, she stopped to inhale the freshly budding coreopsis she had been babying for several months. All around the blaze of colors, ranging from red, orange, yellow to mellow green and delicate lavender and purple made for an incredible ambience.

This was her oasis. She had made the cottage her own and had been told by the board to do whatever she pleased. There werealmost no restrictions, excepting that she could not have male visitors over. As if that would ever be an issue.

Plucking off a dead leaf, she gave the plant a last approving look before climbing the steps of the front porch. She had brought over leftovers from the social that had taken place earlier, so there was no need to prepare a meal. It was Friday night, which also meant she could sleep in late tomorrow and do some housework at her leisure.

Placing her tote on the table next to the porch swing, she slipped out of her sandals and sat on the swing, curling her feet beneath her. Pushing gently back and forth, she absorbed the heat, and the potent scent of the flowers surrounding her. She supposed she should go and heat up some of the food, but she was not hungry.

Today had been exhausting, both emotionally and physically. She had left the meeting with the grieving parent and gone into the bathroom to cry. Chad was gone. That promising young man with the ready smile and eagerness to embrace life was no more. She had stayed inside the bathroom, wiping tears, and questioning the Lord.

Pastor William had not uttered banalities. He had not used the usual cliches people confronting grief always used. Instead, he had been gentle and sympathetic and allowed the woman to talk and vent. He had prayed for comfort, which would not be forthcoming any time soon.

He could relate of course. He had lost a son two years ago to a debilitating disease and could honestly say that he understood what the sister was going through.

Pastor William was relatable, and Cassandra owed him everything. She had been the classically abused child. Her dad had died early, and her mother had become bitter and disillusioned.

She had married someone soon after, to a man she had met at the social function she attended. He had pretended to be sympathetic to her plight as a young widow and a single parent. With the acute instinct of a child, Cassandra had figured out that he was not all that he was portrayed to be.

She had tried to tell her mother, but Emma Daley had been too grateful for the help and a second chance as she thought of itas and had refused to believe that her new husband was not as perfect as he pretended to be.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and shook away the rest of the horrible memories. It had taken years of prayers and counseling, not only from her pastor, but qualified members of the congregation for her to start living again.

When both her mother and stepfather had died in a car crash when she was only ten, Pastor William had not hesitated to take her under his wing. With the help of his loving wife, they had taken her into their home.

She owed them everything.

The first drop of rain startled her out of her reverie and had her eyes flickering open. The sky had turned a metallic gray with the clouds covering what little blue that had been there when she came home. The porch was covered, but very soon, she knew the hard driving rain would soon have her running inside.

Pushing herself out of the swing, she collected shoes and bag and hurried inside, locking the door, and engaging the alarm. She had forgotten to put on the air this morning before she left, and the inside was stiflingly hot.

Touching the button on the panel, she waited until the cool air was permeating the small vestibule. Bypassing the living room, she dropped her keys in the dish on the entrance table and hung up her bag before depositing her sandals neatly in a corner of the room.

Padding across the dull shine of the board floor, she went into the kitchen and went straight to her window plants. She had planted mint, rosemary, scallion and thyme and the scent inside the cheerful yellow and white room was very pleasant and cozy.

Opening the window slightly, she put the potted plants on the sill, to absorb some of the raindrops, before slamming the window shut. Instead of the tea, she went straight to the wine cooler and plucked a bottle of Chianti from the rack. It had been a gift from a sister who was also her best friend for her birthday in July.

Working the cork out of the bottle, she went to get a glass and poured it halfway. She was not a drinker, because of her religion, but tonight seemed to call for some added assistance to get to sleep. She had her devotional hour coming up and she was a stickler when it comes to worshiping, especially privately.

She was not forced into her religion. She had been to college, studied art and business, and could have gone out into the corporate world. As a matter of fact, Pastor William had encouraged her to do just that.

“Taking care of you and lending our support is not contingent on you being obligated to stay Cassie.” He had told her in his usual calm and matter-of-fact tone. “It’s what we are here for. You are young and beautiful and somewhere out there, life is waiting for you.”

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