Page 5 of Evan

“You have done wonders with the place,” he murmured a little wistfully.

“God’s handiwork. I am just the one who digs in the dirt and tends to the plants. He does the rest.” She led the way to the bench and chairs that had been added a year ago beneath an overhanging oak tree. “I have lemonade and peach pie.”

“You baked?”

His skeptical look had her laughing, dimples peeking out on both sides of her cheek.

“You know better than that. Sister Glenda handed me a pie dish when I was leaving last night. Make yourself at home, I will be right back.”

Settling on the padded seat, William leaned back and took a deep breath, appreciating the scents and the quiet ambience. He almost wished he could stay here – almost wished he was single and carefree, like Cassandra.

Last night he had spent the time tossing and turning on the bed and woke up this morning as cranky as a bear with a sore head. The housekeeper was off for the weekend, but she had left their meals, which meant that they did not have to do anything except prepare breakfast.

He had made coffee and poured some in a go cup before leaving a terse note on the fridge to let Ingrid know he was doing rounds.

He had made it to one congregant before deciding to pop in and tackle some paperwork. Fifteen minutes in, he realized he was not concentrating. So, he decided to come and see the woman who has been on his mind.

“Here we are,” she came back out bearing a tray. Jumping from his seat, William took it from her and placed it in the middle of the table.

“Let me pour. Sit.” He instructed.

She waited until he had finished pouring and handed him a plate with a slice of the pie, before commenting on the tired look on his face.

“I was expecting you to stay home and relax today.” Taking a sip of her lemonade, she studied him curiously. William Weeks was more than her pastor, he was her dad, even though she still called him ‘Pastor William.’

He had instilled in her valuable lessons and had been there for her most of her life. He was an integral part of what she was. And she also knew him pretty well. Enough to realize that something was not quite right.

“Visitations. Sister Marcia is still not doing very well and refuses to go to the hospital.”

“She prefers to be in the comfort of her own home. How is Ingrid?” She asked casually. She had also noticed that the pastor’s wife affection had cooled towards her, and she could hazard a guess as to the why of it.

“I left her sleeping. Yesterday was not easy on her.”

As usual, mention, even subtly at the tragedy of losing his son brought tears to the back of her eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“We had an argument.” He toyed with the slice of pie on his plate. “Ingrid accused me of not understanding what it is like. She reminded me that she was the one who was mostly there for our children.”

He lifted his head to stare at her, a smile touching his lips. Her thick natural dark brown curls were piled on top of her head inan untidy bundle with thick curls hanging down and touching her cheeks.

Her skin was a flawless caramel complexion with not even a hint of imperfection. Her eyebrows were tapered, and her dark brown eyes were large and very expressive. She was petite, probably barely topping five feet, but her personality was so big, one hardly noticed her slight frame.

“She also accused me of favoring you.”

“Oh!” Cassandra took a sip of her lemonade, before putting the glass down and facing him.

She no longer looks me in the eyes, and she is very polite. Your wife was there for me when I needed a mother, and I hate to think that I am coming between the two of you.”

“It’s not you,” he hastened to assure her. The last thing he wanted her to think was that she was a burden. “Instead ofwaning – the tragedy of losing Chad is lingering and increasing. His room is like a shrine.

Everything he left there is still in the exact spot. I suggested to Ingrid that we should clear out his room, but she would not hear of it. In fact, she gets hysterical at the very mention of it.” He fidgeted with the dessert fork, a pained expression on his attractive face. “I shouldn’t be telling you all this…”

“Why? Because you are the pastor, and you are not entitled to have feelings? Not entitled to feel overwhelmed with sadness?” Reaching across the table, she placed a hand over his.

“You were there for me in my time of need and for that, I will always thank the Lord that he placed me in your path or vice versa… “She shook her head. “You are the closest thing I have to an earthly father, and I appreciate all you have done for me. I just wished there was something I could do for you.”

“You are doing it.” Using his free hand to cover hers, he squeezed. “You are my daughter…”

She started to tug her hand away, but he held on. “Pastor…”

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