Chapter 5

Evan could not recall the last time he had been to Sunday services. It might have been when he was a little boy, and his mother was still alive. Mary-Ann Davenport had been a proper Southern lady with all the mannerisms and characteristics of a genteel bred female.

He barely remembered what she looked like, except when he stared at the life size portrait that held such a prominent position over the top of his mantel. He had inherited her ink black hair, but not her gentle blue eyes.

He could recall nights when she tucked him into bed, her soft lilting voice singing him to sleep. He could also recall that was the last time he had been shown parental love and had been happy. After she died, his life had come to a complete stop. His father, Emannuel Davenport would not allow grieving.

Certainly, crying was not something he would dare do in front of the old man. It was too feminine. Only women cry. Public displays of attention were never sanctioned. Women and children were to be seen and not heard.

While his mother was alive, she could get around those rigid rules, because in his own selfish way, his father had loved her. When she was alive, he had been faithful. One would never believe it after the way he behaved after she died. He had taken countless women to his bed and coached his son to do the same.

He and his brother, Eric had been joined at the hips. They did things together. And had formed a bond that was not easily broken.

The two had continued to run the company the way their ancestors had done, with no apologies and no thought of the consequences of their actions.

Evan had been left out of the mix, something he was secretly happy about. When the old man had died of an aneurysm when he was in college, he had not wasted any time mourning him. The company had been passed down to his brother.

When he too had dropped dead of a heart attack while having an affair with his secretary, Evan had taken over and was determined to change things around.

As he made his way through the arched doorway of the building with the ‘greeter' holding the door for him to enter, he felt the familiar sense of hopeless anger roaring through him.

Ignoring the curious stares and whispers, he selected the middle pew, telling himself that it was more convenient for him to make his exit whenever he decided it was time to go.

The seats were filled, and friendly smiles were offered by little old ladies with twinkles in their eyes and a word of welcome for him.

The announcements were followed by the introduction of the praise team. His body tensed automatically as he rose to the accompaniment of the musical instruments.

And he zeroed in on her. With the cadence of her voice when she spoke to him, he knew she was a singer. And she sang like an angel. The teleprompter, he supposed that's what it was called – displayed the lyrics of the song. She took the lead, her face lifted slightly, the microphone held lightly between slender fingers.

Her dress was some sort of summery material, with big red and blue flowers all over the white background. A hammered gold belt cinched in her small waist, and she was wearing ankle boots. Her hair was styled in what he identified as intricate braids on both sides of her head.

Big gold hoops were at her lobes. When she sang the first high notes, he went still and everyone else in the sanctuary faded into nothingness. He was right about her voice. It was melodious and incredibly haunting. When she sang about the wonderful love of the God of creation, he could hear birds soaring, flowers blooming.

The tight fist that had been clamped around his heart, started to ease slightly. She was singing to him. He felt his heart shattering as she met his gaze, dark brown eyes connecting with his and holding them captive. He was several feet away from her, but he felt as if she was touching him.

She held him spellbound and very soon, he felt the sweat gathering in his armpits. They went into the second song without a break and still he stood there staring at her, allowing her liltingly lovely voice to wrap around him like a protective blanket.

The praise team sang three songs in all and afterwards, the pastor stepped forward, a benign smile on his face. Evan noticed the special attention he paid to the lead singer, the subtle touch of his hand on her arm and the smile he bent on her.

She was asked to pray and without the slightest self-consciousness or timidity, she stepped forward and prayed a blessing over the service.

*****

He did not disappear like he had planned. He had seen the various reporters snapping pics of him sitting in the congregation and clasping hands with the pastor. People eddied around him, thanking him for attending services and imploring him to come again.

He had to admit that he waited for her to become free from the children flocking around her, demanding her attention. She was very popular and had a word for anyone who approached her. Her smile could light up a very dark room and she wasn't pretending to listen when someone spoke with her.

He frowned slightly and tucked away the nagging feeling of jealousy when several young men hung around. He was invited to the fellowship hall where a spread was laid out on trestle tables groaning with the weight of sandwiches and cakes.

Someone pressed a plate in his hand, and he listened politely to a group of men who had shaken off their shyness and come over to talk to him.

He was taking a cup of fruit punch when he felt her behind him. Even without turning around, he knew it was her. The scent of her perfume was unmistakable.

Steeling himself to remain neutral, he turned to face her and felt the familiar rush of excitement and warmth as his eyes connected with hers. As if by tacit agreement, the men drifted off, leaving them alone at the drinks table.

"You came!" Her head was tilted to one side and an impish smile was on her lips. Hastily averting his eyes from them, he focused on her gaze.

"Yes." He had not meant to sound so abrupt, but her presence made him feel gauche and unsure of himself. "And even brought reporters with me." He took a sip of the drink, his eyes widening as the sweet tangy taste tantalized his tastebud.

"Sister Shirley Blake is known for her remarkable talent in preparing a mixture of fruits and vegetables," her smile widened as she nodded at the cup in his hand.

"What have you contributed to this spread?"

"The gelatin." Walking over to another table, she scooped up some red and green Jello, with little starfruits in the middle. "Here."

He found himself reaching for the small plate. "Your own invention?"

Her smile widened. "Oh, absolutely."

It was a long time since anyone had spoken to him without artifice. He was accustomed to people wanting to get close to him because of his position in life.

But these people seem to have forgotten who he was and what he represented. Cassandra Daley was treating him like one of her students. He was about to say something to her, when a blonde woman with a curious look on her attractive face walked over to them.

"We haven't been formally introduced. I am Marsha, Cassie's best friend."

"A pleasure." He shook her hand briefly before letting go.

"I am happy you came. Did you enjoy the service?"

Evan had to tamp down the impatience and wished the woman would go away.

"Immensely, especially the singing." His silver eyes went to the woman standing next to him. "Have you ever considered trying to get a contract?"

She laughed softly, her melodious laughter filling his heart with additional warmth. As if needed anything extra. Being near her was casting a glow over him that he could not understand. He looked up just in time to see her friend giving him a quizzical look and wondered if he had shown his hand. What was his hand anyway?

"The praise team has a You tube channel, and we are on Tik Tok. Our goal is to reach people, especially young people with our music."

"My friend is being very modest." Marsha interjected. "She was the one who came up with the idea and it has taken off more than we ever dreamed."

"We give the glory to God." Shaking her head, she exchanged a knowing look with her friend that neatly excluded him.

"Honey, you should show him your garden."

Evan gave her a startled look and wondered if that sentence had a double meaning.

"Cassandra has the most beautiful gardens that she has cultivated at the cottage."

"Cottage?" He carefully reined in his riotous thoughts.

"I live in the church compound. And I am sure Mr. Davenport has better things to do…"

"As a matter of fact, I would love to see the garden," he heard himself saying. His initial plan to leave had slowly disappeared somewhere between the delicious punch and the conversation.

"Oh."

He watched in amusement as she picked up her drink and took a sip, before putting it back down as if she had no idea what to do with hands. Good, he thought with satisfaction. I am not the only one flustered. "Whenever you are ready."

*****

"I was expecting a sermon."

His deep voice broke into her troubled thoughts and had her jerking her head up to look at him. By the time they left the chapel, the crowd had dispersed, or most of them had. She had told Pastor that she was showing Evan around and he had nodded, giving her a curious look. But to his credit, he kept his opinion to himself.

They had reached the area she considered her most accomplished endeavor. A clump of cabbage roses nestled beneath some vines.

She had created a sort of pavilion, mixing various plants, a rosemary bush here and there and some peonies and daffodils next to a bench she had constructed herself. She often sat out here, enjoying the solitude, the serenity of God's creation and just painted to her heart's content.

"Pardon?"

"We have been together for half an hour, and you have not once mentioned the word ‘God' and the need to be saved."

"I must be slipping." She stood by the bench and to his surprise, slipped out of her boots. "I love to be comfortable." Her smile came again, and he had the urge to fold her into his arms and never let go. It startled him enough to have him step away from her.

You love flowers."

"I am fascinated by every living thing. I compare the growth of a plant by how the Lord's power is so complex and yet so tangible." She reached out to touch a plant hanging from the nearby branches of an oak tree. "Have you ever stopped to consider how created He is?"

"I am afraid not." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he forced himself to look away from her. She had a very expressive face and whenever she spoke on a subject, whatever she did, it was done with such enthusiasm and a zest for life. She was the most alive person he had ever known.

Her singing entranced him to the point that he could listen to her forever, and he found that even now, he did not want to leave. He knew she couldn't invite him in to have a drink, but being here with her was more than satisfactory. It was downright wonderful.

He wanted to keep on talking to her, but he wanted so much more than that and it frightened him. He should leave before he did or said something he would regret. "You seem close to the pastor." He supposed the topic was innocent and neutral enough and ignored the fact that he wanted to know the nature of the relationship.

He had seen the man with his wife and the woman, even though she had been smiling, had a distinct hint of sadness surrounding her. He had read that they lost their son some years ago, which could account for the grief.

"They took me in when I lost my mother. My dad died when I was ten." There was a wistful expression on her lovely face. "Mama couldn't deal with the loneliness, and she married someone who could not cope with having a child who was not his."

"Then he should not have made the commitment." His voice was steely, his face harsh. "What happened to them?"

"They died when I was ten."

His eyes wandered over her face, and he felt the inexorable pull, only this time was much stronger. He was going to have to leave and soon.

"And you still believe in God?" He asked scoffingly. "He took away your parents, your only support, people who were supposed to take care of you and you did what? Tell him that it was, okay? That you understand perfectly what he is about?"

She studied his face for such a long time, he was tempted to fidget and apologize.

"I cried out to him. I was raised in the church – this very chapel. Mama oversaw the soup kitchen. She and my dad were married here, and I was baptized when I was seven years old."

She shook her head. "I doubt I even knew the significance of doing so, but I knew that I wanted Jesus to save me from going to hell. Then everything started going bad and I asked God why."

"Did he answer?" The cynical amusement on his handsome face did not offend her. Far from it.

"He didn't. Or if he did, I never heard, or I wasn't listening. Pastor William and his wife took me in without complaining. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for them to do. They had children of their own, but they took care of me."

Her gaze shifted to something beyond his left shoulder, and he saw when her expression changed slightly. He was becoming attuned to her moods, and it was unlike her to be sober.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." Lifting her head, she smiled at him. "I love the Lord with all my heart, and I am not privy to everything he has planned for me. I just know that he promised to take care of me, and he will."

Evan wanted to point out that her blind devotion was disturbing and impractical. He wanted to tell her that she was living in a fairytale world and was dangerously close to becoming unhinged.

But there was such a peaceful look about her, a conviction so strong and unshakable, it made him wonder what it must feel like to be so completely devoted and committed to a cause.

"I think you are amazing," he said softly. Her eyes flew to his face and they both stood there staring at each other.

Cassandra's hand went to her throat, dark brown eyes drowning in the silver of his gaze. The air was still around them, even the squirrels who had been scurrying around, looking for food had disappeared.

Birds had been chirping before had found somewhere else to call out to each other as if by tacit agreement they had decided to give the couple their privacy.

The minute the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. This was madness. He was not supposed to be involved and when the offer had been made to view her garden, he should have beaten a path to his vehicle.

He had things to do. His aunt had made him promise to stop by for supper. Some contracts were on his desk that demanded his attention.

The company was taking over a publishing house as well as a software company and those were major acquisitions that needed his personal attention. He did not have time to be paying attention to some churchgoing female, no matter how exquisite she was.

Women like Cassandra Daley would require courting, and he did not have the time nor the inclination to do so. She would want marriage and the two point five kids.

They were miles apart, not only socially, but also emotionally as well. The chasm between them was so wide, it could never be bridged. She was an innocent, and he had no business messing with her head. He knew better than that.

"I have to go." His voice was unnaturally loud after the extreme quiet and unnecessarily harsh. Taking another long look at her, he turned on his heels and walked away.

Taking a deep breath, now that the spell had been broken, Cassandra sank down on the bench near her and clasped her hands in her lap, her expression pensive.

*****

"You are distracted." Marjorie chided as she handed him the glass of white wine. They were at the cabin, designated for their assignation. It was hers and had been gifted to her by her late husband and came in handy because it was tucked miles away from other neighbors and very isolated.

William did not mind the drive and whenever he wanted to be with her, he would make the excuse that he was doing visitations. Ingrid would shrug indifferently and even though he was cheating on her, it pained his heart that she did not care where he went.

"You know me too well." Forcing a smile to his lips, he took a sip of the chilled wine. They were seated on the front porch admiring the stunning view and the lush vegetation. Marjorie had made them a crab salad and he was quite full. For the next couple of hours, he could pretend that they were a couple.

"What is it? Or should I guess?" She smiled at him over her glass. "Cassandra and that hot and very wealthy young man. He seems to be quite taken with her."

Pastor William's expression turned moody and worried. "He is out of her league, and I would hate to see her get hurt."

"You cannot shield her forever, William."

"I am aware." He had seen them walk off together and had been tempted to go after them. "He has a reputation."

"Of being ruthless…"

"Of being some sort of playboy, whatever that means. Cassandra is sweet and kind and has this habit of trying to save the world."

"And you love her very much."

Turning his head, he stared at her, trying to decide if her comment was spiteful or there was a hidden meaning behind it. But he should have known better. Marjorie did not have an unkind bone in her body. Sleeping with him was probably the only overt sin she had ever committed.

"I do." His expression softened. "Since the day I first dipped my fingers in the water and sprinkled it on her forehead. She was such an adorable baby.

She was also very curious and even when she was a little girl, she would ask all these questions about God and creation that it would take me some time to come up with answers." His expression turned bleak.

"Losing Chad made me question everything I hold dear, but Cassandra has brought me so much joy and I never want to see her hurt."

Reaching out a hand, she gripped his arm, her expression gentle. He was her pastor and also her lover and best friend.

She knew she could never have him the way she wanted to, but she was content with things to stay this way. She had prayed about what they were doing with each other and had become inured to the guilt. She couldn't believe that loving him was wrong.

"You are going to have to let her step out and make her own mistakes. Who knows, it might be God's will for her and that young man to be together."

He gave her a startled look and shook his head, uttering a sigh. "I strongly doubt that.

The Bible says we are not to be unequally yoked, and that young man is of the world. I have looked into his eyes and from what I have read about him, he does not believe in God. Cassandra needs a man of strong Christian beliefs. She knows better than to get involved with someone like him."

"And we both know that we do not get to choose who we fall in love with," she murmured with a meaningful look at him.