Chapter 10

Prayer had always been a source of comfort to her. Even when she was a child, she had known the power of praying. Her mother had always been religious, making certain that her daughter attended Sunday school.

Unlike kids of that tender age, Cassandra had been fascinated by the teachings of the Bible and had always looked forward to going.

When she got older and tragedy struck, she had turned to the Lord, not for answers, but for comfort. She had learned to be serene, to put everything at the foot of the cross and leave it there.

But for the first time in her life, prayer was not working for her. Last night had been an abysmal failure. She had not been able to say a word. Getting up off her knees, she had climbed into bed and sat there in the darkness, thinking about him.

Yearning for him and feeling guilty that it had taken away from her fellowship with the Lord. Her Bible had remained unopened for the first time. Her thoughts were muddled and confused.

She had been tempted to call him, to tell him that he should come over or she go to his place. She had almost been willing to bend her principles and abandon the teachings of the Bible. And it had frightened her so much she had attempted to pray again.

She had always been able to avoid temptations of the flesh, because she had never met anyone she really liked that much. The guys in the church were just her brothers in Christ.

Several of them had approached her, but she had turned them down in such a way, they were not offended.

She was asking the Lord why. And she was questioning herself. Is it because she had never met a celebrity in person? Evan Davenport was a celebrity of sorts. He was a man of immense power and wealth. He exuded a confidence that was evident, even by just looking at him.

He was also very handsome. There was this aura of aloofness surrounding him. Was that why she was so attracted? Women often want to ‘save' men, to be the one to break through the ice and find the weak spot, the vulnerable area. Was that the fascination she was feeling?

No! She immediately dismissed all of it. She loved him, she reasoned despairingly. She had known him for a short time, but she felt as if she had met him a long time ago. She loved talking to him. Felt an affinity for him that she had never felt with anyone else before. She had friends, lots of them or rather, people she liked.

She knew the names of everyone in the congregation and adored the children. But Evan had awakened something inside her – a fire that was raging out of control. A passion she had never known existed.

It was terrifying.

*****

"Pastor William!" Stirring herself out of her lethargy and misery, she looked up as the man came into her office, a haggard expression on his face.

"I could use some of that coffee, my dear."

"Of course." Jumping to her feet, she went to the coffee pot and poured a cup. He had taken a seat on the velvet sofa in the corner of the room.

"Sit." He patted the space next to him as he took the cup.

"You look as if you hadn't slept."

Inhaling the fragrance, he took a sip before putting the cup on the table in front of the sofa.

"Ingrid is gone."

Cassandra gave him a startled look. "I don't understand."

He smiled at her grimly, rubbing his hands up and down his khaki slacks. His eyes were red as if he had been weeping, his face pale. She was not accustomed to seeing him like this and it shook her up. "She went to be with Darcy."

"Oh. That's a good thing."

"She was not invited of course. Our daughter wants nothing to do with us. But she reluctantly agreed to see her mother. I offered to go with her, but Darcy was adamant that she did not want to see me.

Ingrid insisted that it's best if she went by herself. She packed enough clothing to last several weeks. When I asked her when she was coming back, she told me she had no idea." He took up the cup again and just sat there staring into the contents.

Cassandra remained silent as she tried to assimilate what he said and read between the lines. She knew there were problems in their marriage, she had sensed it from the beginning. Losing their son had driven a wedge between them, one that apparently had not been fixed by prayer. Then to top it off, their daughter had left and gone to LA.

Cassandra had heard rumors and had seen pictures of her on Facebook, pictures that revealed that Darcy had done a three sixty-degree turn. She had piercings and tattoos all over and in each of those photos, she was practically naked. She had not bother to mention it to her pastor and was sure he was aware of how far she had fallen.

"I think she is in the process of leaving me." He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, his expression bleak. "I am a mess, Cassie." He continued softly. "I am not fit to carry out the work of God. I have sinned and have proven that I am a mere mortal. I have fallen from grace and cannot find my way back."

He jolted when she reached out and took the cup from him. Placing it on the table, she took her hand in his. It was too early for anyone to come to visit. She had arisen at dawn and when it became apparent that she wouldn't be able to have her usual devotion, she had showered and dressed for work.

It was just a little after six and still dark.

"You can find your way back," she told him softly. "I cannot imagine how difficult it is for you and Ingrid. Losing a child, especially a child like Chad who was so likeable, so loving and kind and sweet, it's bound to make you inconsolable.

You are human and even though that's not an excuse, it's reason enough." She drew in a breath. "I have learned a lot over the years.

Seen so many losses, but I remember you preaching a sermon that sums it all up – we are not here to stay. Clinging to this life here on earth is not something we should ever want to do. Heaven is real, it is not some made up fairytale to make us feel better. Those were your words, and they never left me."

She squeezed his hand. "The Lord understands when we cannot utter a word when we question what he is allowing. And he does not judge us for it. He loves us unconditionally, no matter what. You are going to have to try and find a way to go to him in prayer."

He had been staring at her during her monologue, studying her exquisite face. She had always looked serene and at peace. He had figured that was mostly what contributed to her beauty.

Yes, physically she was very appealing, but there was a glow inside her that spilled outwards. She always had a smile for people around her and there was a term that people used especially when someone was violently murdered.

"She didn't have any enemies". But with Cassandra it would be the unvarnished truth. People loved her. Even the young women in the congregation who should have been envious of her talents, looks and accomplishments, gravitated towards her. She had that kind of personality.

But this morning it was missing. She was pleasant enough, but the sadness on her exquisite face was there and he was afraid he knew what had put it there.

"I was afraid of this." He murmured.

"Sorry?"

"You are hurting."

She drew her hand from his and rose a little agitatedly. Going to her desk, she sat and fiddled with the fudge stick paper weight one of her Sunday school kids had made for her.

It's nothing."

"Cassie."

Shaking her head, she was about to deny it again, then thought better. She had always been upfront with him. "He is gone." She smiled tremulously. "He hasn't said that much to me, but I know we won't be seeing each other again. We want different things."

"You mean he wants to go to bed with you."

His bluntness startled her.

"I want it too." Lifting her head, she stared at him, eyes shimmering with tears. "He was the one who stopped it." The tears trickled down her cheeks and William felt his heart contracting at the miserable look on her face.

He deserved everything he was going through, but not her. Cassandra Daley was the best person he ever knew, aside from his son. And he did not like the idea that she was hurting.

But he had been afraid that this would happen. Men like Evan Davenport wanted only one thing, and they certainly do not end up with women like her. They were used to sophisticated women and Cassandra was not that. She was sweet and innocent and would not hide behind her feelings.

"Cassie… "

"No." She shook her head firmly and plucked out several tissues from the box to dab at her face. "I know that I can never go against my principles. I also know that a man like Evan Davenport could never be with a woman like me."

"He would be blessed to have someone like you." He growled, causing her to smile.

"I wanted to change him." she said wistfully, twisting the sodden tissues between her fingers. "I denied it to myself of course, but that was what I wanted to do.

I wanted to be the one to change him, ‘save' him. I was arrogant enough to think it is my job. And I wanted to do it for selfish reasons, because I had this picture inside my head that he would come to know Jesus as his personal Lord and savior and fall in love with me.

We would get married and…" her voice trailed away. "It sounds ridiculous spoken aloud. He is a rich and powerful man, and the Bible says it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to be saved."

"The Bible also said that it might be impossible for men, but with God all things are possible."

"It's not going to happen for us, Pastor and I will get over it. It's just that I have known him for a short period of time, and he managed to make an enormous impact on me. I have been asking the Lord why him? Why not someone in the congregation?

Even a guy from a neighboring church. Was it that I have this grandiose hope for my future? Is it his money that has attracted me to him?" She shook her head and leaned back against her chair.

"You know better than that. You do not have a greedy bone in that body of yours. Avarice is not part of your make up. You would just as well give up everything you have to save the world. You cannot bear to see anyone in pain.

Your generosity knows no bounds. You give of yourself unselfishly and I admire the woman you are. Losing your dad and being ignored by your mother did not turn you bitter. You love people and you are always the first to jump in whenever there is a crisis.

I will not have you beating up yourself. I don't know what plans the Lord has for you and that young man, but I am certain it will be revealed eventually." He rose and rubbed his hands together. "I also want to thank you for what you said. I feel much better now."

"So do I." She told him with a watery smile. "I came to work because I couldn't sleep, and praying was becoming an arduous task."

"It seems we are both in the same boat." His eyes twinkled. "Why don't we retire to the chapel and see if we can remedy that?"

"Absolutely!" She agreed, pushing away from the desk.

*****

The board was doing very well without his input. Aside from a few grunted contributions to several questions, he was more or less left alone to brood. Evidently, the men and three women who make up the board, had seen his dark mood or they might have been forewarned by his very able and competent assistant.

She had gotten the brunt of his misery and borne it well. He had snapped at her when she did not bring in the folders he required fast enough and had rudely told her that he did not need a mother when she offered to pour him a cup of coffee.

The woman had pulled back her thin shoulders and with a frosty look asked him if there was anything else he needed. When he told her no, she had wheeled out of his office and closed the doors with a snap.

He did not blame her for retaliating. Last night was a disaster. He had drunk himself into a stupor, but the liquor had done little to dull his riotous thoughts, only making him sick to his stomach and a dull throbbing ache in his temple that was driving him crazy.

He had swallowed four pain killers and chased them with two cups of strong coffee, which had not been a good idea.

He cursed the day his head of PR had suggested him giving the check to that church to salvage the image of the company. He had sacrificed a lot more than he bargained for. He should not have gone back that second time.

That was what had messed him up. Her singing, her dazzling smile, the ethereal beauty that drew him to her like a moth to a flame.

He was yearning for her, and he had argued with himself almost the entire night wondering if it was her innocence, how different she was from the women he was accustomed to, if that was what was making him so crazy.

Was it the novelty of being with someone like her? Did he want what was forbidden? He had read about the Eve situation in the Bible and how she had been drawn to pick the forbidden fruit because she had been expressly told not to and wondered if it was the same with him.

But he knew instinctually that it was not like that. He loved talking to her. Whenever he was with her, he felt as if all the cares of the world had faded away.

She was wholesome and sweet. She did not treat him any differently. She teased him until he could not help but laugh. She didn't want anything from him. In the past, women had wanted him for one reason or another. They expected expensive gifts and would kill for the opportunity of becoming Mrs. Davenport.

He was stirred from his tortured reverie when the meeting was called to a close. Blinking, he realized that the rest of the members were staring at him in anticipation and wondered how long he had been out of it. He had no idea what they had been discussing and had made no important contribution to the meeting.

A dull flush stained his cheeks. Pushing back his chair, he tried to recover and take back the command by giving a brisk nod, indicating the meeting was finished.

Waiting until they had filed from the conference room, he went straight to the refreshment table and poured a tall glass of orange juice. His head was throbbing, but it was too soon to take any more pain pills, and he had an idea that it was not doing any good.

Walking over to the window, he stared out at the sky. The corporate office occupied several blocks and was a towering building with fifteen floors. It had been in this specific location for more than a hundred years.

Changes had been made over the years, the building had been modernized at the turn of the twentieth century, carpets changed, the structure reinforced and when he had taken over, he had made drastic changes to his suite of offices. His father and uncle had leaned more to the ostentatious.

He would have preferred a more muted design. He has also made changes when it comes to the way he handled his employees and the management staff.

His father and uncle had believed in keeping women in clerical positions, with only a few at the management level to prevent them from being frowned upon by the business world or being accused of being biased against the fairer sex. The few women had held the titles but were prevented from making any important decisions.

He had changed all of that by revamping the entire management system. Now there were females in every department and on the board and they were not ornamental. He did not place someone in a position because of the way they look. He looked for quality and experience. He was determined to make a difference and had a feeling that he had.

But suddenly it did not mean anything to him. He felt as if he was existing in a vacuum, sinking into a hole that was slowly covering him and taking his breath. It had all changed for him, and it had taken just a couple of weeks for his perspective to change.

He spent so much time working tirelessly to change things around that there had hardly been time to socialize.

Taking a sip of the OJ, he reflected on the picnic. A smile touched his lips as he recalled her attempt to let him forget about his reservations.

She had told him funny stories about the kids in her Sunday school class. Then they had turned into poignant moments.

"Becky is such a sweet child, and she is desperate to please. She has a learning disability and lives with her grandparents. Her mother died when she was two and her dad disappeared right after she was born.

She is so determined to be like the others that she often holds her hand up or insists on being picked for all the games. I love her so much, and I am afraid it's obvious that she is my favorite."

He had looked at her with raised brows, fascinated by her melodious tone of voice and her animated expression when she spoke of ‘her kids'. "Is that allowed? Favoritism?"

She laughed, her dark brown eyes sparkling. "It's not supposed to be a thing, but I cannot help it. Becky embodies determination and the attitude of not allowing anything to stand in the way of getting ahead. She is strong and resilient, and I love that about her."

She looked at him as he continued to stare.

"What?"

"You want children of your own."

"Of course."

He had felt the heat gathering inside his lower body as the idea of his children growing inside her womb, of her growing progressively bigger with his seed.

"Don't you?"

He had shrugged and lied because he was ambivalent. "I haven't thought about it."

From her direct stare, he knew she had not believed him, but she had not pursued the line of conversation but went back to talking about her Sunday school children. Within minutes, she had him laughing at the antics of a boy named Billy and the trouble he got into just to get her attention.

"Sounds like he has a crush on you." He observed, trying not to think about the older men who probably wanted to be with her.

"A little." She told him with a smile. "He brings me things from home all the time. One day he brought me a box of chocolates, his dad gave his mother for her birthday."

"What did you do?" He was so intrigued by her story that the time simply flew by.

"I accepted the gift of course and told him that he did not have to give me anything. I was satisfied by just seeing him each time he was in my class. Then I told him that his dad had given his mom a special gift because he loved her. I gave it back to his mom after assuring him that he was not going to be in trouble."

"You should have been a diplomat."

Her smile flashed. "In order to deal with children of different personalities, you have to be."

Leaning his head on the cool pane of glass, he closed his eyes wearily.