Page 6 of Evan

“No!” He shook his head slowly. “You are more daughter to me than the one I have. Ingrid said that very thing to me and I had to acknowledge it, because it would drive a further wedge between us. And yes, my dear…,” he squeezed her hand again. “There is a wedge, and it is widening even further…”

“Please.”

Taking his hand away, he picked up his glass and took another sip. “I am a man, Cassie.” He smiled at her, the movement shallow and sad. “I have flaws and for a very long time, I have been questioning God. Should I?” He tilted his head slightly, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I should just go with the flow. Or it might be the fact that we are all sinners. We are not good, are we my dear?” His smile came again. “Except you.” His hazel eyes touched on her beautiful face that was free of makeup. She hardly wore any, but she didn’t need it.

Her skin was flawless, her eyes wide and innocent, but she was strong and had a steely resolve. She was no pushover. She was friendly and caring and would go out of her way to help an individual.

“I am not good.”

“You come close to being the best person that I know.”

Leaning over, he patted her hand. “This place…,” he swept his hand to encompass the yard, “it’s serene and so peaceful. I could stay here all day.”

“Then stay for supper.” she urged. “I went grocery shopping this morning and picked up some imitation crabs. A bit on the expensive side, but I want to make a crab salad.” Her dark brown eyes sparkled as the idea took root. “Stay and help me. We could sit out here and enjoy the rest of the afternoon.”

He was tempted. Being here with her was like a balm on his ragged spirit. Talking to her had already dispelled the heavinessinside him. But he had to go home and face the music. And it was not fair for him to be burdening her with his troubles.

“You should go out,” he told her abruptly. “Go to the museum or the art gallery. You love that sort of thing.”

“So do you. Let’s go together.”

He shook his head in regret and rose before he could change his mind. She stood up as well and came around to hug him. A sigh escaped him as he hugged her back and inhaled her subtle perfume and the scent of flowers and the sun surrounding her.

He held on a little longer than he should, but she was a comfort to him, now more than ever. Kissing her on the top of her head, he let go and stepped back.

“Will you be, okay?”

He nodded. Lifting his hand, he brushed his fingers over her left cheek, dislodging a smudge of dirt. “Thanks for the refreshment and the listening ear. Both are well appreciated.”

She walked him to the gate.

“Where is your vehicle?”

“In the church’s parking lot. I needed the exercise.” He kissed her on the cheek and headed along the pathway leading to the back of the chapel.

Cassandra watched him for a few minutes, a frown on her brow. Turning around, she went to sit at the table and picked up her glass of lemonade. She had seen the sadness and the look of hopelessness on his face, and it broke her heart. She also knew what he was not saying. His marriage was disintegrating.

And that was frightening. She had often watched them when she was living at the farmhouse and prayed every night thatshe would find a man who was as good and perfect as Pastor William.

They had been a loving couple. Laughter had been in that house, as well as love. She had been so grateful to be part of that. But now the house was empty of children, and it was falling apart.

She could not bear to think of the man she had loved and admired for so many years as just a man. That should not be the case. He was a man of God, a messenger and surely certain things should be beneath him, such as going to another woman. Finishing the lemonade, she rose and started to tidy up.

Suddenly, the idea of going back to her gardening did not hold its usual appeal. Her mind was burdened, and his sadness had rubbed off on her. The tears were near to the surface. She could pray of course, but she doubts she would find the words.

*****

Ingrid Weeks sat on the side of her son’s bed and ran her hand over the quilt slowly. She could feel his presence inside the room and his brand of cologne still lingered after all this time. There was a keen sense of loss inside her heart that no number of prayers and meditation could mend.

She was broken inside and shattered like a fragile glass that had been smashed to pieces. She had asked God why her son – why not her? Why had he taken a bright young man like that and left her to try and survive losing him.

William had sprouted Bible verses about God knowing what is best and that he had his reason. He had tried to assure them both that Chad had gone home to be with the Lord. That when a saint dies, we should rejoice.

She had listened and then told him succinctly to go to hell. She knew he was trying to comfort her, comfort them both, because he loved his son, but his words had grated and made things worse.

Lifting her head, she looked around the room, eyes landing on the teal blue wall where countless medals and ribbons weretacked. Chad had been very athletic. He had been involved in so many sports and had been very outgoing.

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