Forgivin' Ain't Forgettin' (35 page)
“Lately, I’m
always
hungry.”
Cassidy smiled and pulled the remainder of the sweet potato pie from a side-by-side stainless-steel refrigerator that matched a double dishwasher, an eight-burner gas stove, and a trio of wall ovens. She put the dessert on a stoneware plate.
Cassidy sat down, and Rave said softly, “I haven’t told anyone this, but I don’t know who my baby’s father is.” A forkload of pie disappeared inside Rave’s mouth. “I feel comfortable telling you. I guess it’s because I know you’re not the kind to spread the stains of others all through the church.”
“Do you think the baby might be Kregg’s? Kregg would definitely want to be involved in the baby’s life if the baby is his.”
“It’s not Kregg’s,” Rave answered in a relaxed way. “He always insisted we use a condom. Plus we stopped sleeping together last winter. I wish it was Kregg’s, though. He’s a good man. I didn’t realize it when I was with him.” She licked a crumb of pie from her bottom lip. “But he’s moved on. I saw him with your sister-in-law at the mall.”
“They’ve been dating.”
“I hope everything works out for them.”
“I do, too. They’ve started coming to church, and Trevor and I believe it won’t be long before they’ll decide to commit to Christ.”
“I need to get back in church. I actually miss being there.”
Sorrow filled Rave’s expression, and Cassidy felt the Spirit of God nudging her to share His Word with Rave. But with the problems going on in her own life, Cassidy questioned if she was qualified. She thought for a moment more. “Rave,” she started slowly, “you’ve been a church member, but have you ever given your heart to God?” No seeds of condemnation had been planted in the question.
Following a brief pause, Rave replied, “No. I’ve never asked Jesus into my life.”
“It’s easy to do.”
“I know, all I have to do is believe. It’s all there in John 3:16.”
“And don’t forget Romans 10:13.
Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.
”
“Yeah, but I’ve done so many ugly things, girl. Ugly,” she emphasized.
“The Bible says all of us have sinned. That means no one’s perfect. And that’s why Jesus died for us.”
“So that we
can
be perfect?” she said with some sarcasm.
“No, so that one day, we can live with Him for eternity, and so that while we’re here on earth, we can commune with Him intimately, on a personal level. A lot of people think that being a Christian means you join a church or get baptized or take communion on first Sundays. But it’s about so much more than that. It’s about knowing God and striving to get closer to Him every day.”
“How do you do that?”
“Well, in order to know someone, you have to fellowship with them, right?”
Rave nodded.
“In order to know God, you have to spend time with Him.”
“Like praying?”
“Yes. And reading His Word.”
Rave bit down on her bottom lip, and a shy blush stained her cheeks. “Do you really think He loves me?”
Tears formed in the corners of Cassidy’s eyes. “He loves you, Rave.”
“Will you help me talk to Him?”
“We’ll say the prayer Pastor Audrey uses.” She bowed her head. “Dear Jesus, I believe You died on the cross for my sins and rose from the dead.”
Rave repeated each word.
Cassidy continued, “Forgive me for my sins and come into my heart,” but Rave was silent this time. Cassidy waited, not wanting to rush her. The decision to accept Christ was one Rave had to make for herself. Some seconds later, Cassidy heard Rave sniffle and sigh, and she knew God was working on Rave’s heart. Rave’s voice trembled with emotion as she asked God for forgiveness.
Cassidy led the next part of the prayer. “Take complete control of my life, Lord. Make and mold me in Your image.”
Rave voiced both sentences, then repeated the last line with profound conviction. “I will walk with You from this moment forward and love You with my heart, mind, and soul.”
“Amen,” Cassidy said.
A sparkle showed through the tears on Rave’s face as she echoed, “Amen.”
T
ypical of the day before the weekend, customers filed in and out of Seconds at a steady rate. Trevor lingered on the first floor, greeting the patrons. He carried a cake to the car of a young man on crutches, then went upstairs to his office to review a pile of applications. Before he could read through the first résumé, Grace rushed in. Visibly shaken, she met his gaze with troubled eyes, and in the same moment, they both remembered that
other time
she’d burst into his office this way.
Trevor pushed aside the paperwork and stood in a hurry, all of his pores spitting beads of clammy sweat. “Who?” was all he could push forth, accepting that someone he loved was in trouble.
Grace vented a labored breath and answered, “Cassidy.”
At the hospital fifteen minutes later, Trevor blurted to the nurse at the station, “My wife is here.”
She turned to a computer screen. “Her name?”
“Room 12, room 12,” Trevor chanted, quickly passing cube-shaped rooms with peach-colored curtains for doors. His heart in a knot, he braced for the worst and shoved aside the curtain of room 12. A young doctor with red hair and freckles looked up from his metal stool seat. Cassidy, stretched on a gurney and dressed in a hospital gown, also met Trevor’s gaze.
“Trevor,” she said, her mouth easing into a smile.
Happy to see her, too, he let his hand come down over hers as his eyes searched for some visible injury. He didn’t see blood, and she wasn’t hooked up to any tubes, but he was only marginally relieved. “What happened?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice stable.
“I suddenly became tired, and everything started spinning . . .”
The doctor rose. His hand met Trevor’s in the air above Cassidy’s stomach. “I’m Dr. Falk. Are you the husband?”
“Yes,” he answered, then questioned the doctor, looking at Cassidy the whole time. “Is Cassidy all right?”
“We did an EKG, and the results were normal. Your wife’s lab results, however, show she has iron-deficiency anemia, which means a decrease in the number of red cells in the blood caused by insufficient iron. But overall, Mrs. Monroe appears to be in good physical health. As I’ve explained to her”—he looked at Cassidy, then at Trevor—“there could be a repeat of today’s episode, or she could eventually develop serious health problems if she doesn’t maintain a better diet. Food is to the body what gasoline is to a car. I’ve advised Mrs. Monroe that although she may feel stressed, she needs to eat.” His gaze returned to Cassidy. “It might be wise for you to talk to someone. Before you leave, I’ll give you the name of several doctors who deal with anxiety-related issues. How are you feeling now?”
“Better.”
“I’ll write you a prescription for oral iron supplements and give you that list of iron-rich foods.” Cassidy’s chart lay on the bed next to her, and the doctor picked it up. “The nurse will be back in to check your vital signs again. If all is well, you can be discharged.”
As the doctor exited, Trevor sighed and kissed his wife’s forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Their grip remained intact, and she brought his hand to her lips. The sound of a baby crying filtered into the room, and somewhere a man shouted out, “Nurse, help me,” every ten seconds or so. “I’m chilly,” Cassidy said, and Trevor pulled the sheet over her feet and up to her chest.
They shared the next silent moments with feelings streaming between them twisted and tense, as this was the first conversation they’d had since Trevor had taken Kendall to the hotel last night. Cassidy was asleep when he got back, and this morning he overslept and had to rush out. He pondered if he should tell Cassidy what had happened with Kendall. He quickly decided against it. Cassidy wasn’t feeling well, and he would not risk making her feel worse.
Cassidy’s stomach growled, and they both smiled. He already knew the answer but asked, “Did you have breakfast?”
She wagged her head no.
“If I bring you something from the cafeteria, will you eat it?”
She wagged yes.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised. He walked through the corridor, turned right, and bumped into the shoulder of a man.
“Trevor,” Dunbar said in greeting.
“Cassidy called you?” Trevor said right away with somber discontent in his tone.
“She was with me when she became ill. I’m the one who brought her here.” Dunbar straightened his tie.
Grateful that Cassidy was in one piece, Trevor hadn’t thought about where she’d been when she’d taken ill—Trevor glowered at Dunbar—or whom she’d been with. This wasn’t the day Cassidy and Dunbar usually walked, and the image of them hanging out together just for fun forced a surge of blood to Trevor’s head that pained his temples. Before they were married, he should have been honest and told Cassidy that he was uncomfortable with the relationship she shared with Dunbar. But he didn’t think he had the right to ask her to give up a friend, because that’s all Dunbar was—a friend. Now Trevor wondered if Dunbar had become more. Maybe Cassidy talked to Dunbar about the things she couldn’t discuss with him. Maybe their relationship had deepened to a physical level. Trevor hated to think like this, but since Cassidy had been so cold toward him lately, he regarded such thoughts as legitimate.
“I’m on my way to get Cassidy something from the cafeteria.” His voice was steel. “I’d appreciate it if you weren’t here when I returned.” Trevor broke eye contact and assumed a brisk pace past Dunbar, ignoring the inner menacing voice that coaxed him to punch the man in the face.
Cassidy and Trevor walked along a set of bricks that snaked to the side of the parsonage. “I’m sorry I made us late,” she said. As soon as she arrived home from the hospital, she’d climbed into bed. She slept into the early evening without waking once. Cassidy told Trevor he should have awakened her sooner, but he’d said she needed the sleep, and they could reschedule this evening’s session with the pastor if she wanted to stay home and rest.
Trevor slipped his hand around hers as they continued over the path. The warmth from Trevor’s palm felt better than a wool sweater on a cold day. She didn’t want to release him, but it was necessary, since the stairwell leading down to the basement level was so narrow. The first to reach the bottom, she turned to notice Trevor on the step behind her. His eyes talked to her eyes, and her eyes talked, too, and they both perceived that being here was evidence that both of them wanted something more for their marriage. When Trevor first told her that the pastor wanted this meeting, apprehension became her wall of defense. But the pastor assured there would be no discussion of her sexual dysfunction unless she mentioned it. This was to be a general session, one he engaged in with married couples from time to time. Most of the marriage counseling at Charity Community had been delegated to a counseling staff, but Clement liked to stay in touch with couples in crisis, and Cassidy consented, more at ease with Clement than with anyone else.
Natasha answered the door. “Hi,” the teen shouted. She had on a headset connected to a portable CD player. Cassidy couldn’t tell what song was playing, but she could hear drums.
“Hi,” Cassidy said along with Trevor, and Natasha invited them inside with another shout.
“My dad’s in his office.” She pulled off the headset, and her voice plunged to normal. “You can go on back.”
“Thanks,” Cassidy and Trevor spoke together again. Natasha returned the headset to her ears, tossed a bunch of the braided extensions that hung to her waist over her shoulders, and jogged to the other side of the room and up the stairs.
While waiting for Clement to respond to the knock on his office door, Cassidy stared from corner to corner of the spacious basement, taking in the sparkling white kitchenette, the glass dining table and four fabric chairs, the leather sofa that faced an on-the-wall plasma television, and a huge aquarium built in the wall and populated with brightly colored fish.
Clement smiled as soon as he saw them. “Come on in and have a seat. Would you like coffee, juice, water?” he said, gesturing toward a small bar.
“No, thank you.” Cassidy and Trevor exchanged amused glances, having spoken in unison a third time. Cassidy thought that if she and her husband were always so in sync, there might not be a need for this meeting.
“Thank you for coming,” Clement said. “Have a seat.” Four armchairs were set in a square, and Cassidy and Trevor sat next to each other. The round coffee table in the middle held a Bible. Cassidy fiddled with her bracelet and for a moment thought of Dunbar.
Clement sat across from them. “As I told Trevor when I spoke with him on the phone, this meeting is informal. It’s an opportunity to let you both know I’m praying for you, and I’m here to help in any way I can. The first year of marriage can be difficult.” He smiled. “I remember well.” Cassidy glanced at the wall. There was a wedding picture, the same pose but smaller than the version in the Audrey living room. Cassidy carried her vision back and forth across the wall, admiring the other family pictures. Most of them were taken when Natasha was still in patent-leather shoes and Vivaca’s hair was longer, Clement’s waist smaller.
Cassidy turned to Clement, already opening their session in prayer. She peeked at Trevor, positioned with his spine curled forward, his hands clasped and hanging between his knees. His eyes were closed, and his nose pointed to the carpet. Cassidy tightened her eyelids, too.
The prayer ended, and Clement asked, “Are you two praying together at home?”
Cassidy and Trevor linked stares. His eyes were a reflection of her thoughts. They rarely prayed together or read God’s Word together.
“In my opinion,” Clement started, “joint prayer is the deepest form of intimacy a couple can experience. It needs to be incorporated into your marriage daily. Vivaca and I pray together every day, even when one of us is out of town. No, it’s not always easy to pray
with
her or
for
her when we’ve been arguing. But what I’ve found is, I can’t talk to God and fight with Vivaca at the same time.” Clement gave them several moments to meditate. “The devil, not each other, is your enemy. So pray together and pray the Word of God. It’s the weapon that pulls down the barriers which keep us from fulfillment with Christ”—he paused to study them both—“and each other.”