Chapter 3

Pastor William Weeks took the time to stare around the concave room of the main sanctuary. It was packed to capacity, with almost every pew occupied. That was mainly due to it being baptism Sunday. The choir was worshiping in song and the congregation was all revved on the Holy Spirit.

He smiled slightly as he listened to the lead singer. Cassandra Daley could sing a soul into heaven. Her soprano was clear and loud and beautiful, with a wistful sadness to it that touched the soul.

Unaware that he was being watched by his wife who was seated next to him on the pulpit, he turned his head to stare at her, a softened expression on his face. She was so beautiful, he thought whimsically.

The peach dress and matching cardigan she had on was not showy and not too straitlaced either. Her face was in profile from where he was sitting, but he could see her eye sparkling as she sang the lyrics.

Turning away, he stared at the Bible and iPad. It had taken him some time to adjust to the new ways of doing things.

He still jotted down notes in his notebook whenever he was preparing a sermon, but Cassie would do the typing and upload it into his sermon page. She had created one for him and he had to admit it made things a lot easier. She had done it in a way that if he wanted to make any changes, he could.

Today he would be preaching on ‘God's Love.' It was simple, but he wished he had asked one of the local pastors to take the sermon.

He felt guilty. He had sinned, committed adultery and had been with a woman who was not his wife and had comfort in her arms. She was seated in the front pew, and he had studiously avoided looking at her.

He wondered if the congregants could see the guilt on his face. He wondered if his wife could see it. He had reached home at almost midnight and peeped in on her, but she had appeared to be sleeping. He hadn't called to tell her he would be late getting home, because that would have made it even worse.

When he turned his head towards her, it was to see that she was staring at him, her face expressionless, a vacuous smile on her lips.

They were both good at pretending, but for how long? Reaching out a hand, he placed it over hers that were clasped tightly on her powder blue dress. To her credit, she allowed the touch and did not flinch. She even managed to smile at him, which gave him courage.

Years ago, she had been involved in the writing of his sermon. He would approach her with a particular topic, and she would be his sounding board. She would make suggestions, and he would jot them down.

But that was years ago. Now he used Cassandra as his sounding board. She was incredibly articulate and an eager student of the Bible. He valued her input and would often refer to her ideas.

The song came to an end and as was customary, the congregation stood with rousing applause. A prayer was offered by Brother Andrew, one of the choir team members and afterwards, they took their leave. It was his cue to bring the Word, and he had trepidation.

He was going to stand here in front of God's people, representing His holy name and he was far from being worthy. He could be struck down dead by His powerful hand and it would be nothing he would not deserve.

Taking a deep breath, he walked to the pulpit and stood there, his Bible opened to the appropriate chapter. With a smile on his lips, he greeted everyone and commented on the singing of the choir.

"I have often commented on how necessary it is to have the team setting the theme of the service. We need reminders of how good God is – how worthy he is of all our praises." He waited for the applause to end. "We here at Russell Baptist would like to welcome all visitors and faithful worshipers alike to our Sunday service.

Summer is almost at an end, and we have lots of activities packed in to herald the end of the season. Summer camp was a tremendous success, and I had the privilege of being with the pre-teens and interacting with them." He shook his head. "I have to confess that their vitality and energy made me feel every inch of my age."

He paused and waited for the laughter to stop, before resuming. "But on a serious note, it was indeed a blessing to see so many young people just enjoying clean and wholesome fun and socializing with each other." He looked down at his device for a second before looking up.

"Please open your Bible and turn with me to John 3:16 as we explore the unconditional and amazing love of God."

*****

"I thought you had already left." Pastor William looked up in surprise as Cassandra came bustling into his office.

"You know my usual ritual. I had an after services session with some of the children and I stopped into the office to send off some emails." She eyed him for a minute before handing him one she had printed out.

"What is it?"

"A gift from God." Her smile was wide and the sparkle in her dark brown eyes made him smile.

"What sort of gift?"

She did not respond but waited until he had read the almost terse message.

His eyes flew to her in shock, before going back to reread the message. "This is…," words failed him as he stared at her.

"A blessing?" She supplied, her dimples peeking out. "He wants to meet with you first thing in the morning to present the check."

"It's…," he swallowed past the lump in his throat and wondered why the Lord was still blessing the ministry with someone like him at the helm.

"This is more than enough to finish the daycare with more left over to refurbish the soup kitchen."

"Among other things."

"Why?"

Pulling up a chair in front of his desk, she lifted tapered brows. "God works in mysterious ways. Are we supposed to question the works of the Almighty? We have been praying for the resources to carry on and this came at an opportune time."

"You recognize the name?" He asked huskily, still staring at the message in stupefaction.

She nodded. "His company has been the source of much speculation and rumors. Do you think that is why?"

William shook his head before she could finish the sentence. "We are not in a position to judge."

"I know," she acknowledged, "I am in the middle of notifying the rest of the board."

"No." Putting down the piece of paper, he gave her a distracted smile. "I will do so. "I have some things to take care of and Ingrid will be visiting with some of the elderly, so I don't have to hurry home. You go on and go to that gallery opening, I heard you have been talking about for a while."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Enjoy yourself and I will see you first thing in the morning. I must remind myself to wear a tie." This time his smile was genuine and lent a sparkle to his eyes.

"If not, you have a selection in the closet behind you," she reminded him.

"That I do." He stared at her for a few seconds. "Thank you, Cassie."

"Any time."

She left him staring at the message. Leaving his office, she closed the door behind her to give him some privacy.

She had been so happy when she saw the email and hoped that it would be something to lift his spirits. And it had. She had also noticed that First Lady Ingrid had joined him in greeting the visitors, which was a good sign, at least she hoped it was.

Going to her desk, she shut down her computer and tidied the surface before taking her leave. She was going to the gallery opening and had procured the ticket several weeks ago. It was an expensive venture, but she told herself she deserved it.

She worked hard and was so involved with the ministry that it left little or no time for anything else. But she had thought about it and had prayed about it.

She was going to strike a balance. Attending an opening was not going against the Word of God. She loved art and dabbled in it herself. She wasn't going to be able to afford any of the painting of course, but she could look and hope and that was exactly what she was going to do.

*****

For as long as she had been saved, Cassandra had been diligently obeying the rules. She had taken her vows, showed her relationship with the Lord by being dunked in the baptismal fount. From that moment on, she would like to believe that she had entered the pool one way and came back out completely different.

She knew it was probably a mind thing, but she had felt as if her old sinful nature had been swept away and she was clothed in complete righteousness.

She had also been an eager student, willing to read the Bible – not only as an obligation, but to study the different chapters. The stories fascinated her and others she questioned, but they were all profound and nothing she had read since had touched the depths of her soul.

She had also vowed to herself to the Lord that she would keep herself pure. She had gone to college out of state and even there, had been careful to keep herself from being sucked into the loose and free living.

The debaucheries had not tempted her one bit. The constant parties, the imbibing, the exposure to recreational drugs had not been a source of temptation to her.

With her looks, she had been approached frequently by boys who wanted to prove themselves to be men by bedding the so-called unapproachable girls on campus. She had proven to be a challenge and a dare they had try and conquer.

But she had always been strong and had a steely resolve. She was from a small community, but she was able to stand on her own two feet. She would never allow anyone to force anything on her. She had finished her courses and graduated with honors. Best of all, she had sailed through the lofty corridors and came out unscathed.

Yes, she wanted to be a wife and for the last few years, she had been staring at the children in her Sunday school class with potent longing. She attended a predominantly white congregation, but that did not matter to her.

They were just people and over the years, no one had ever treated her differently because of the color of her skin. She was one of them, a family and in the kingdom of God, nothing mattered except the faith.

She wanted children. She was at an age where she had started asking the Lord for a suitable mate. One with as strong or even stronger conviction than hers. He had to be a man who loved God, a Christian with strict principles.

She did not want someone who was so rigid, he would think that attending the movie theater was a mortal sin. She had been asking the Lord for a man who was going to love and respect her for who she was.

And she was willing to wait. Marriage was the ultimate commitment, and she did not want to rush into one because the time was running out on her. She was almost thirty, but she was still young and there was still time.

She would wait until the Lord sent the right person and she was convinced that she would be able to tell.

*****

The brilliance of colors was the first things that caught her attention as soon as she stepped into the lofty art gallery. She had seen the ad on the internet and practically every station on TV and had decided that she wanted to attend.

Procuring the ticket had been somewhat difficult, but a fervent patron of the arts attended the chapel every now and then and had managed to get her a ticket at half price.

A waitstaff, dressed in black and white and balancing a tray on one hand, approached her as soon as she stepped into the room. Deciding to go with the full experience, she smiled at the girl and took the proffered champagne before making her way towards the display.

Moving through the crowd of people wearing well-tailored and expensive clothing, she climbed the spiral staircase and went towards the paintings mounted on the silken wallpaper.

Wanting to enjoy the experience all by herself, she studied the painting closely, admiring the not so clean lines and the slash of colors that Jackson Colby was most famous for and sighed softly.

The painting was a jumble of colors and to some would seem like a child had been left to his own device with a paintbrush and several vibrant colors to play with. But to her as well as an expert – a connoisseur of the art, it was a maze of wonder.

Abstract art fascinated her mostly because one could put any interpretation one wanted, and it would not be wrong. She had studied it in college and had learned a lot about Jackson Colby and his style of creativity. She admired the man tremendously and privately wished she could meet him.

But, not to impart the gospel, and she had a moment to reflect if that was wrong. No, she wanted to meet him and tell him face to face how much his paintings meant to her. It was either that simple or that complicated.

She had moved on to the next painting, the champagne in her hand losing some of the bubbles before she noticed the man standing next to her.

"Hi."

Jerking slightly at the male voice, she turned her head to see him standing there. He was a distinguishing looking gentleman with a full head of dazzling white hair and a pleasant smile on his lips.

"Hello."

"I noticed that you were absorbed by the painting." He nodded to the one she had been admiring.

"I am a fan," she admitted.

"Who isn't? Jackson is quite talented. My name is Isaac…" He held out a well-manicured hand to her. "Isaac Whitfield."

Cassandra's eyes widened in recognition. "You wrote several books on the subject." She could not help the rush of excitement as she took his hand. "I read most of them while I was in college."

He smiled at her, blue eyes twinkling and adding character to an unlined face. "Did it manage to put you to sleep?"

"On the contrary." Forgetting the now flat champagne and losing interest, she set it aside on a table against the wall. "Reading your work was a source of fascination for me. The way you made clear the distinction between traditional and contemporary paintings had me awed."

His light blue eyes studied her animated face with interest. "You are an artist."

She shook her head with a rueful laugh. "Just an amateur. I paint when I have the time."

"You sound more than an amateur and you were studying the paintings as if you were trying to interpret what it's saying." He gestured to the one in front of them. It was a stark black and white artwork, depicting an old man sitting on a porch, a pensive look on his craggy face as he stared out at the darkening landscape. "What do you think?"

Turning back to the painting, she studied it carefully. She was in the presence of an expert and wanted to get it right.

She noticed the squiggly signature of the artist's name at the left-hand corner but could not quite make it out. "The subject is a family member, someone close to the artist, someone loved by him or her."

She wrinkled her brow as she stared at the defining lines. Even though it was done in black and white, one could identify clearly what the artist was about. The lack of vivid colors did not take away from the idea, in fact, it gave the subject stunning clarity and a feeling of haunting beauty.

Whoever took the original photo and painted the portrait was very talented and she said as much to the man standing next to her.

"I agree completely. His name is Sylvester Greene and the man in the painting was his grandfather. Sylvester is seventy years old." Isaac smiled at her startled look.

"I have never heard of him."

"That's because his photos had been buried in boxes until his grandson found them after he died a week ago." He nodded to the painting. "This is just one of many. Shall we?"

"Of course." She eagerly went with him to view more.

*****

Suddenly, he wasn't feeling so down and out anymore. They were getting an influx of much needed donations in terms of a very generous donation. It was a sign that the Lord was still in his corner. That despite his sinful nature, his heavenly Father was still with him. He had been afraid that wasn't the case.

He had not bothered to go anywhere else, but sat around his desk, imbued by energy, and was tackling some paperwork. He was about to call it a night when a shadow loomed in the doorway. His heart took a dive when he noticed who was standing there.

"Marjorie."

"I went home and prepared some seafood salad and brought you a plate. I had a feeling you would still be here."

"You should not be here."

"There is no one else on the premises."

"Precisely the point. We have to be careful. You cannot be seen here with me."

"I wanted to see you." She was a quietly attractive woman with graying blonde hair and light blue eyes. Her body was trim, and her face had a haunting quality that spoke of the sadness she had endured in her own life.

She had lost her husband a few years ago and very soon after her only daughter. But she had found grace and peace in the love of the Lord and had accepted the tragedies as part of God's plan for her life. She was an excellent listener and people gravitated to her because of her serenity.

She came further into the room and left the door open. At this time of night on a Sunday, he did not expect anyone to be popping in. Cassandra had left for her outing and even if she came back, she would go straight to the cottage.

He had called his wife and told her he was still at the office, and she had sounded as if she didn't care one way or the other.

Placing the plate in front of him, she went to find some utensils and napkins. He had a well-stocked fridge in the small kitchenette behind his office and within minutes she came back with a glass of cranberry juice on a tray. "You don't take enough care of yourself."

Placing the tray in front of him, she made certain there was no one there before placing a gentle hand on the top of his head.

Leaning over, she caressed his thick dark hair and stroked his neck slowly. Sighing softly, he gave into the comfort of her light touch and felt the tension ebbing away. He should tell her to leave, but her presence was what he needed.

"You are too good to me," he murmured.

"You are hurting, and I want to take the pain away." Moving away from him, she pulled up a chair and pointed to the food. "Eat."

With a smile, he peeled off the saran wrap and inhaled the delicious scent, before digging in. She was silent as she watched him eat, a smile hovering on her lips. "You are behaving as if you haven't had a meal in ages."

He looked up at her ruefully. "I had coffee and a bagel this morning and that's it."

She shook her head in distress. "You are not taking care of yourself."

He knew what she left unsaid and appreciated her not uttering the obvious. The unspoken agreement between them was that there would be no mention of his wife. That subject was off limit, and she was wise enough to know that.

One of the many reasons why he cared about her so much. Digging into the meal, he told her the good news about the donation.