Page 3 of Evan

For the husband is the head of the wife, just as Christ is the head and Savior of the church, which is His body.’ Ephesians 5: 22-23.” She smiled slightly. “I have been doing that for thirty-five years and where has it taken me?”

“Except in bed.” His jaw was rigid as he finished unbuttoning his white cotton shirt.

“I cannot bear to feel you against me. I have lost my son, and my daughter is gone. You are getting on with your life because you have Cassandra, the substitute daughter.”

He went still as he stared at the woman; he had been married to for more than three decades. “And there it is. Cassandra has always been a bone of contention between us. For heaven’s sake Ingrid, she needed us. She had a very rough life and as children of God we are supposed to reach out and lend a helping hand.”

“You did more than that!” Her usually soft voice rose sharply, eyes flashing. “You embraced her, favored her over your own flesh and blood. Darla felt it and that is why she left.”

The anger hit him then and for a few seconds, he had a difficult time reining it in.

Turning around, he faced her in disbelief. She had finished creaming her skin and neatly put the bottle away with the others. It was the first time he noticed how many accoutrements were on top of the vanity.

She had never been vain, or at least, not during the first years of their marriage. She had naturally beautiful skin tone and her eyes were large and candid. Not for the first time, he noticed that they had become jaded and world weary.

“You reared that child and told me repeatedly that you never minded taking her in.”

“I never did.” Her small hands were clenched tightly on top of the table, so much so that the blue veins were showing. “Then I lost my son and Darla…” Taking a deep breath, she tried to regain her composure. “Now, I cannot bear to see her.” She whispered.

“You have given her everything. An education and now a place to call home. She is involved in every aspect of the ministry and privy to all our private matters. When you look at her, you see a daughter…” Her expression turned snide as she gazed at him. “Or is something else?”

He caught his breath at her sick implication and for a second, he realized in horror that he wanted to strike her. Not even when he was a man of the world, had he ever raised his hand to a woman. He considered such an action to not only be repugnant, but criminal.

A woman was supposed to be treasured like a prized possession and loved the way the Lord intended. But now, all he felt for the woman he had joined his life to was bitter hatred. Turning away, he picked up his clothing and strode from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Marching into his study, he closed the door and secured it by engaging the lock. Not that she would come in search of him to apologize. Ingrid Weeks would think that her remarks were justified.

That she was just saying whatever it was that was on her mind. Walking over to his desk, he plopped down on the chair, his entire body deflating. He was tired and sick of the life he was living.

Marjorie… A tender smile curved his lips as he thought of her. She was a comfort to him. It was wrong and adultery was a sin against God and his wife, but he could not help it.

She was there and she offered unconditional love and hope. He had lost that particular feeling a long time ago. Pulling out the lap drawer, he rummaged among the things, a Bible – old and tattered from frequent use, a book of poems written by a favored clergyman, a stack of old Daily Bread and a photo of him and his son.

Taking it out, he set it on the desk and gazed at the picture of the laughing boy, his handsome face lifted towards the upwards as if looking at something or someone, only he could see. He looked like his mother, the same shade of hair and shade of eyes.

He passed trembling fingers over the glass covering as if he could reach flesh and blood, instead of his son frozen in time forever.

Tear trickled down his cheeks and before long he was shedding tears. The harsh sobs were the only sounds in the otherwise quiet room. Putting the frame away, he shut the drawer with a snap and lifted his hand to angrily wipe away the tears.

He had railed at God and reminded him that he was a messenger of the gospel, and he had sacrificed his life to go on about Kingdom business.

And he had been repaid by losing his only son. It was ironic or symbolic that the God he served had sacrificed his only son as well, but he was not God, and he did not understand what he was supposed to learn from all of this.

Losing Chad had impacted them irrevocably. His marriage had disintegrated, his daughter had left bitter and disillusioned, and he and Ingrid were living separate lives.

Swiping at the tears, he turned his attention to Cassandra. Cassie, as she was so affectionately referred to. She was light and hope. She had been through so much and yet had managed to remain sweet and untouched. It was not just her physical beauty (and his wife was wrong about what his feelings for her were!)

She was beautiful and her spirit, her zest for life and the gospel, the way she always has a smile on her face, the light in her beautiful dark brown eyes, reminded him of angels singing.

And she had a lovely voice and a beautiful personality to go with it. She was not pretending. People loved her. The single men in the congregation were hoping that one of them would be chosen to be her husband.

He had teased her about the flutter she was causing, and she had laughingly told him that she was far from being ready. “I am much too busy to consider settling down just yet.”

And she was. Cassandra was involved in every aspect of the ministry. He had no idea what he had done before she started at the office.

She was efficient and quick. He was aware that she would be a treasure in the corporate world and had mentioned that, but she had waved it away and told him she was quite contented and there was much more to life than making piles of money. “Like peace of mind and I have it right here.”

He believed her because a happier person he had yet to meet. She cared about everyone and was especially gentle when it came to the elderly and the very young. They loved her. His wife was right. He loved her like a daughter and possibly loved hermore than his own flesh and blood and refused to feel guilty about that.

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