Forgivin' Ain't Forgettin' (29 page)
Cassidy knew the meeting wasn’t about the Frank boys the moment she entered the pastor’s office and found Vivaca and Trevor there. Alarm stampeded her heart. Surely, Trevor had not shared the delicate details of their personal life with Clement and Vivaca. They could have worked through their problem on their own. Cassidy plodded to the center of the floor and stood like an iron pole as Clement nodded welcome and offered her the empty seat between Trevor and Vivaca. Cassidy did not want to sit there. She did not want to be here. The walls were closing in on her, and she licked her dry lips as if that would eliminate the sudden need for a glass of water.
“It’s okay, honey,” Vivaca interrupted the silence. “There’s plenty of love in this room.”
Her emotions shattering, Cassidy gave Trevor a wary stare. His face was firm with tension, yet his eyes were soft with sensitivity, and she understood he didn’t want to be here any more than she did. Like the pastor, Trevor was standing, waiting for her to sit. She slowly lowered herself to the chair, and Clement began. “Cassidy, first of all, Trevor did the right thing by coming to see me. You can’t fix a problem if you don’t seek out the necessary tools. Second”—Clement smiled gently—“I want to remind you that everything that’s said here is confidential.”
Cassidy placed the Frank boys’ folders on the edge of the desk, cleared her throat, and found her voice. “What did he tell you?”
Clement reviewed the information Trevor had given. Humiliation burned Cassidy’s cheeks, and she lacked the courage to lift her head.
“Cassidy”—Clement’s voice sounded tender—“do you believe your husband came to me because he wanted to embarrass you?”
“No,” she ultimately whispered.
“Do you believe he loves you?”
She raised her heavy gaze and faced Clement. “I know he loves me.”
“And how do you feel about him?”
“I love him.”
“Then are you willing to let Vivaca and me help you through this difficult period?”
Cassidy angled her gaze toward the pastor’s wife. There was a consistent quality to Vivaca’s character that reached out and made you feel special. “Yes,” Cassidy answered.
“Good . . . because that’s why we’re here. Jesus had twelve disciples. We need people in our lives, too. You and Trevor don’t have to walk alone.” Clement’s gaze drifted between Trevor and Cassidy. “I believe you’re suffering from a condition called vaginismus. Of course, I’m not a physician, and therefore, you should see one as soon as possible and get an official diagnosis.”
Cassidy swallowed with difficulty. “I’ve already been to the doctor.”
Trevor fastened his hand on the arm of Cassidy’s chair. “You’ve seen a doctor?”
It was much easier to look at Clement than at Trevor. “Yes. I do have vaginismus.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you saw someone about this?” Disappointment lay at the foundation of her husband’s words.
Cassidy clenched her hands in the lap of her skirt. Tell him? How could she tell him without him asking a million questions that she didn’t want to answer?
Trevor laid a hand over her hands. “Well, do you know what’s causing the condition?”
This was one of the questions Cassidy feared, yet she answered, “I’m afraid I’ll get pregnant.”
Trevor stared, confusion heightening the intensity of his startled expression. “But you’re on the pill,” he said as if he couldn’t believe he needed to remind her of this fact.
She shrugged. “There’s still a possibility I could become pregnant.”
“So what would be so terrible about that?” He gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement. “You’re a good mom to the girls.”
Pain filled Cassidy, nearly extinguishing her breath.
“Cassidy,” Vivaca said, “did your doctor tell you that vaginismus is curable?”
She struggled, but whispered, “Yes.”
“This means professional therapy was recommended?”
Cassidy shook her head yes and dropped her gaze, her heart hardening. No way! She was not going to see a therapist!
M
ay I have the last piece?”
A smile curled Dunbar’s lips. “It’s all yours.”
Cassidy dug her plastic fork into the remaining chunk of cantaloupe. Fruit was the only thing she had an appetite for these days. “You shouldn’t spoil me like this.” Dunbar had started bringing fresh fruit to their one-morning-a-week power walks. Last week it was red grapes and the week before sliced peaches.
Dunbar stared across the picnic table at Cassidy. “I like spoiling you. It makes my day brighter.”
“Your wife is going to be one lucky woman.”
“If I ever find a wife.” A sharp blade cut through his voice.
“Of course, there’s someone for you, Dunbar.”
He shrugged and put the empty storage container in a small cooler. “Lean forward,” he said. Cassidy frowned and he smiled. “Just do it.” She leaned toward him, and he raised a napkin to her chin. “A tiny piece of melon missed your mouth.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
Dunbar threw their forks and napkins in the trash, and they walked to the curb where their cars were parked. “I’m glad we still have this, C.C. I thought that after you became a married woman, you wouldn’t have time for me.”
“You’re my friend. You always will be, and I’ll always have time for you.”
Dunbar stepped closer and kissed her cheek, the ritual send-off he gave her after their walks. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”
The smell of cologne eased under Cassidy’s nose, and she compared it to the brand Trevor used. Trevor’s smell was richer, more compelling.
Dunbar shut her door after she was behind the wheel of the Honda. “When are you going to talk to your husband about Herbie?”
“Later today,” she said, and all the way home she prayed Trevor would be as enthusiastic as she was about the idea of adopting.
“No,” Trevor said, “it’s almost time for dinner.”
Brandi placed the candy bar in her father’s hand and stomped toward the bedroom door.
“You better walk like you know, little girl,” he warned.
“Okay,” Brandi moaned, and exited with a normal stride.
“And close the door,” Trevor said. A moment later, the door was shut. He sat on the bed, pulled off his tie, and removed his shoes. “How was your day?”
Cassidy guided a pen across the blue line of the notebook page, recording her word for the week. “I had a good day. We’re practicing for the spelling bee.”
“I have a feeling you guys are going to take the gold this year.”
Cassidy grinned and brought her pen to a halt, giving Trevor her undivided attention. “How was
your
day?”
“Hectic. Business at the Main Street location is doing as well as I thought it would.”
Trevor had recently opened a bakery in the city’s Manayunk section and in the fall would expand the franchise to the Gallery at Eighth and Market. Cassidy moved the notebook from her lap to the bed and slid close to her husband. He slipped an arm around her middle and tickled her tummy, wrinkling the sleeveless zipper vest that coordinated with knit sweatpants.
“Stop!” She giggled, struggling to subdue his wiggling fingers.
“I don’t want to,” he whined, and gently pushed her by the shoulder to their sleigh-shaped bed. He ceased tickling, stretching his broad hand against her flat belly. A series of warm kisses ended with the words “I love you,” first from him and then from her. As Trevor’s mouth lingered above her lips, he asked the same question he’d asked every day since meeting in the pastor’s office last week. “Did you schedule an appointment with the therapist?”
Her reply bordered on a whisper. “Not yet.”
“Why haven’t you?” he asked patiently.
Cassidy leaned her head to the side and stared at the framed art above the bed, denying him entrance to her soul. The inside of Trevor’s hand surrounded her chin, and he turned her face so her gaze was back on him. His eyes were penetrating and loving and waiting for an answer.
Cassidy opened her mouth to give one, but could not translate her thoughts into words. Trevor sat up straight and clapped his hands to his knees. “This is ridiculous.” There was less patience in his tone. “I don’t understand what you’re so afraid of.”
The truth. If she were to talk to someone, the truth would come out. And Trevor would know what she had done. And he would be as disgusted with her as she was with herself. And most likely, he would walk away like the other man she had loved.
“I saw Herbie today,” she said. Changing the subject might drain some of the tension from the room.
Trevor sighed with resignation and took part in the new topic. “How is he?”
“He misses you.” Cassidy rose to a sitting position as Trevor unbuttoned his shirt. “He said he wants you to come back and be the SAFE coach like last summer.”
“I wish I could. But with another bakery to operate, it’s not going to happen.” Trevor stood and crossed the leaves patterned in the hand-hooked rug covering much of a hardwood floor. “I’ll try to come by and say hello to Herbie and the other boys one day next week.”
“Did you know Herbie is eligible for adoption?” Cassidy asked as Trevor disappeared inside the closet they shared.
“No, I didn’t know.”
“I’ve talked to his new foster mother a few times.” Cassidy exhaled, forcing relaxation. “She’s not interested in adopting him.”
Trevor emerged from the closet dressed in long drawstring shorts and a tank shirt. “Well, we’ll have to keep Herbie in our prayers and ask God to send him a loving family.”
“I know the perfect loving family.” It was easy to smile. “
We
could adopt Herbie.” They’d already decided she would adopt Brittney and Brandi.
Trevor sat on the edge of the dresser and folded his arms. He shook his head. “No.”
“But we’d be ideal. I mean, think about it . . . Herbie would have two responsible parents, two sweet sisters . . . and it’s not like we don’t have the space or the finances.”
“No,” he repeated softly.
She spoke with disappointment. “But why not?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, our relationship has some major holes in it. Just because you refuse to deal with our problem doesn’t make it go away. Maybe if things were different, if you were in counseling—”
“Oh, so this is your way of punishing me for not going to counseling.” She popped from the bed as if the mattress had bitten her backside.
“If that’s what you want to believe, go for it. All I know is that before we even consider something as serious as adopting Herbie, we need to get things straightened out between us.”
Cassidy turned from him and approached the French doors that led to a small balcony.
“I’m not getting it, Cassidy.” His voice was much closer, indicating he was only steps behind her. “Why are you okay with bringing a child into our lives through adoption, but opposed to having a child the natural way?”
Tears with the sting of broken glass lined Cassidy’s eyes as she wrapped herself in her arms and remembered her pregnancy. It had been a lonely time, especially the final trimester. In an effort to keep the pregnancy a secret, she terminated all social activities and only went to classes when absolutely necessary. Minister wasn’t around much, so she talked to the baby in her womb. She prayed for him every night before she went to sleep. She marveled each time she felt him moving inside of her. She loved him, and she believed she was going to be a good mother. But a month before the baby was due, Minister came up with a plan. Cassidy took the anger she felt for Minister out on Trevor and snapped as she turned to face him, “Dunbar said you would probably say no.”
Cassidy became the immediate recipient of an unfavorable squint. “You can tell Dunbar to mind his business. And while you’re at it, tell him to find his own wife.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t like the way he looks at you. It’s like he wants to lick you or something.”
“You’re being disgusting,” she said.
“I’m being real, which is more than I can say for you. Think about it, Cassidy, you’re a married woman, yet the man still leaves gifts on your desk.”
“That’s simply Dunbar’s way of showing how much he values what we share.”
“And what exactly
do
you share?”
She put her hand on her hip. “Are you implying that my friendship with Dunbar is something other than platonic?”
“All I’m saying is that the man is attracted to you, and has been since before you and I were serious, and it’s hard to believe you haven’t seen it.”
“Well, I haven’t ‘seen it,’” she said, and turned from him again. Even if Trevor knew what he was talking about and Dunbar
had
ever been attracted to her, Lena would have surely noticed and made a big deal out of it the same way she had when Trevor came into the picture. She turned and faced her husband. “Why haven’t you said anything about the way youthink Dunbar looks at me before now?”
Trevor’s eyes grew colder. “Because you haven’t brought his name into our marriage before now.”
She crossed her arms as she vibrated with acrimony. “I guess you don’t want me to be friends with him anymore.”
One of the children knocked on the door, and they both looked toward the white wood.
“We’re hungry,” Brittney called from the other side. “When are we going to eat?”
“Soon. Go wash your hands,” Cassidy answered, exchanging the combative tone she’d used on Trevor for something gentler.
His tone remained militant. “Are you going to eat with us or just
watch
us eat?”
“Some people overeat when they’re stressed and others undereat. I’m in the second category.” She marched to the door.
He marched behind her. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so stressed if you’d open up and talk about
what it is
that’s got you so stressed.”
Her stare was as uncompromising as his. “Maybe I wouldn’t be so stressed if you’d stop pressuring me to talk about what it is that’s got me so stressed.”
L
ena and Hulk’s engagement had been announced during the first service. Cassidy watched from the parking lot as a group of well-wishers surrounded the happy couple and Lena showed off her ring. Cassidy glanced at the engagement ring and wedding band adorning her own finger. She tilted her hand beneath the sun, wishing her marriage had the glow the pear-shaped diamond registered.