Forgivin' Ain't Forgettin' (40 page)
Trevor laughed and pushed off the swing. He stood behind her. “Next weekend we’ll go car-shopping.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She stared over her shoulder and up at Trevor. “I’d like to keep Max for a while,” she said, nicknaming the Maxima.
“Max?” he curiously questioned, pulling her swing chains back toward him.
“Yes,” she said as her feet left the ground. She stretched her legs as the swing carried her forward. “She’s paid for, isn’t she?”
Cassidy flowed backward, and Trevor gave her a hearty push. “Yes,” he answered.
“Well, there’s no sense in making another monthly bill right now.” She smiled. She hadn’t been on a swing since childhood. The air swooshed by, caressing her face. “Besides, I need time to think about what kind of make and model I want to own. Eventually, I’ll need something large enough for the girls . . . and the babies.”
“Babies,” he repeated, joy in his voice. “How many babies are we talking about?”
“Three or four or
five,
” she squealed as Trevor pushed her firmly, sending her higher.
C
assidy advised herself not to freak out, but the foolishness Trevor had just served her was eating holes through her tolerance.
“Where are you?” she tried again. Trevor had come home from work at his usual time, but at a quarter past nine, he said he was going to run an errand. He kissed her and the children, said he loved them all, and now, an hour later, she was taking his call.
“I can’t tell you,” he said, his answer the same.
“When are you coming home?”
“In two days. Maybe more,” he added after a pause.
“Trevor, I don’t like this. Why can’t you tell me where you are?”
“I’ll tell you everything when I get back. Until then, you’re going to have to trust me.”
“This really isn’t the best timing for this.” It was only two days ago that they’d sat on the swings and he’d apologized for his previous disappearing acts. Now he was in the middle of another one.
“I need you to trust me.” He sneezed. “Okay?”
“That’s the second time you’ve sneezed.”
“I know. I hope I’m not coming down with anything.”
“If you were here, I could take care of you.”
“Just take care of yourself and the girls. I’ll keep my phone close, but I only want you to call if it’s an emergency. I’ll check in on you in the morning.”
Trevor suggested they pray before he disconnected. Cassidy investigated every word of the prayer, determined to expose the teeniest clue as to where Trevor might be. When he said, “Amen,” she was no more informed than when he had opened with “Dear Jesus.”
“I’m coming,” Cassidy shrieked. “Hold on.” All she heard was the gurgle of the river. The child’s cries were a memory. She made a frantic
360-
degree turn. “Where are you?” she screamed.
“Here I am,” a happy voice answered. “Look over here.”
Cassidy faced the sound and found the boy. He was on the bank, and there was a woman with him. The woman smiled at Cassidy.
“She pulled me out,” the boy said. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”
Cassidy awakened in the dark bedroom. She wasn’t sure what hour it was, but she knew it was late. She remained on her back, her hands turned down on the bed. She dug her nails into the soft sheets and sat up straight. “He’s safe,” she marveled as her eyes adjusted to her dark surroundings. She laughed openly. “He’s safe,” she said again, recognizing for the first time that the boy in the dream represented her son. Pressing her arms across her breasts in X-formation, she looked up. “Thank You,” she whispered. She raised her hands to heaven. “Thank you, God,” she cried louder and louder as water seeped from her eyes.
Cassidy praised the Lord for the rest of the night—sitting up, lying down, in and out of sleep, she praised Him.
As promised, Trevor called the next morning. Cassidy told him about the dream, and he said he was happy for her, then rushed off the phone. Ordinarily, a peppy good-bye like the one he’d flipped to her would have irritated her, but she was still up on her spiritual mountain, feeling too good to come down for any reason.
Brittney’s long face didn’t even get on her nerves today. And during prayer service that evening, when Yaneesha stood up and retracted everything she had said about Trevor, Cassidy didn’t feel the anger she thought she would. What she felt was sorry for Yaneesha. People who did things to intentionally hurt others were people in pain. Yaneesha needed God’s touch, and Cassidy would pray for her.
After the close of service, Cassidy walked downstairs to pick up Brandi and Brittney from Kidpraise. On the way to the large room, her path joined with Pastor Audrey’s. “I know where God wants me,” she said to him. “I’ve known for a long time. My place is with the Sparrow Ministry.”
“That’s right,” Clement said. “Your experiences have been painful, but the blessing is that those experiences will help you relate to someone else who has yet to overcome.” His eyes gleamed. “You know, your aunt would be proud of the young woman you’ve become. I said I wasn’t going to tell you this, but a few days before Mother Vale passed away, she told me about a vision she had. She said she saw you and Trevor exchanging wedding vows.”
Cassidy felt her entire face smile. So her aunt had seen her wedding, after all.
“You should continue to be encouraged where your marriage is concerned,” Clement said. “I imagine Mother Vale has formed a band of heavenly prayer warriors for you and Trevor.” He waved at a parishioner on the other side of the room. “And speaking of your husband, have him call me when he gets back in town.”
Cassidy pinned Clement with a questioning look.
“Uh-oh,” Clement said.
She ground out each word. “You know where he is.”
“Yes, but I can’t tell you.” Clement pulled an invisible zipper across his lips.
“Oh, all right,” she finally relented, less concerned about Trevor now that she knew that the pastor was aware of his whereabouts.
As Cassidy strolled through the parking lot, she continued to feel carefree and joyous, and the surprise she received as she unlocked Max’s door just made life sweeter. “I’ve been thinking,” Brittney said, “I might want to call you Mom sometimes.” She finished very businesslike, “I’ll let you know.”
“I’ll let you know, too.” Brandi climbed into the car, her smile rich with ecstasy.
“Why do you always have to copy me?” Brittney complained. “Cassidy, could you tell her to stop copying everything I do?”
“Stop copying everything she does,” Cassidy responded lightly. She sat in the driver’s seat and turned to look at the girls. She had never asked the children to call her Mom, but she and Trevor had assured them it was all right if they wanted to. Cassidy had said then what she said now. “You’re both welcome to call me Mom. I would like that very much. But if you decide not to, that’s okay, too.” She smiled and the girls nodded. Once they were all buckled in, Cassidy pressed the button for the CD player. Bishop Colvin Culpepper sang about the goodness of God, and Cassidy and the children sang with him.
S
o ya’ll come to see an old lady?” Almondetta stepped aside so Cassidy and the children could enter her apartment.
Cassidy kissed Almondetta on the cheek. “Hello, Mother Almondetta,” she said, and the girls echoed the greeting. On the way over, Cassidy told the girls they were to take their shoes off when they arrived. All of them in socks now, Almondetta offered them seats in the living room. Cassidy and the children shared one half of a plastic-covered sofa. Almondetta sat across from them in a high-back wing chair. She spread her skirt and rested her arms on the chair. She looked like a storybook queen sitting on her throne.
“Where’s your dog?” Brandi asked. Cassidy had also prepared the children for Delightful, nowhere in sight at the moment.
Almondetta’s face showed a glimmer of happiness for the first time. “She’s resting in my room. Would you girls like to go in and see her?”
The children waited for Cassidy’s permission. Cassidy nodded yes. Minutes later, Almondetta returned to the living room without the children. “I put the television on. They’re watching cartoons with Delightful.” Almondetta sat back down in her chair. “Special Day ain’t been the same since you quit,” she snapped.
“Well, I—”
“No need to explain,” Almondetta interrupted. “Yaneesha wasn’t no help. Trifling girl was only in it for the money.” Almondetta addressed Cassidy’s confused eyes. “I’d forget and leave money in the pockets of my clothes that were in the hamper. Yaneesha was snooping around in there one day and found about forty dollars. After that, I knew Yaneesha was going to have to use the bathroom every time she came over. I left money in my clothes on purpose, to keep her coming back.” Almondetta shrugged. “Can’t be but so upset with her. Truth is, I wasn’t no better than she was. I didn’t care about the ministry as much as I cared about having some company.” She closed her eyes. “Lord, help me some more,” she prayed.
Cassidy crossed the room and sat on the footstool beside Almondetta’s chair. “I’d like to visit you again, maybe next week”—Cassidy smiled and emphasized—“for free.”
Almondetta cracked an eyelid. “Are you going to bring them sweet daughters with you?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want,” Almondetta answered, and patted Cassidy’s shoulder.
“It’s my turn,” Brandi sang. She smacked a card on the growing pile, then looked at her big sister.
Brittney sighed. “I don’t have anything.” She picked up a card from the other pile, and both girls stared at Cassidy.
One of Cassidy’s legs threatened to go numb, and she shifted for a more comfortable position. The family room needed a card table and chairs, and Cassidy recorded the items on her mental shopping list. As of now, the small room that sat off the kitchen contained only a sofa and a stocked entertainment center, so the hardwood floor served as their seats.
“Did you hear that?” Brittney’s eyes widened.
Cassidy surveyed the line of cards in her hand, contemplating which card to throw down, while the smell of the spices baking into the chicken and broccoli casserole she’d prepared for dinner tiptoed into the room. “No, I didn’t hear anything,” she said.
“I hear something, too,” Brandi said, her eyes big like her sister’s.
Cassidy tilted her head. She heard something . . . no, someone . . . someone was in the back of the house.
“I bet you it’s Daddy,” Brittney yelled, and the three females instantly put their card game on hold and rushed through the kitchen to the back door.
“It’s Daddy!” Brandi screamed.
The children ran down the deck steps to their father. Cassidy leaned over the rail and watched the show. One daughter at a time, Trevor lifted and hugged them.
“Did you bring us something?” Brandi asked with her head all the way back as she stared up at her superhero.
The superhero teased, “Could be something on the front steps.”
Brittney dashed away.
“I hope it’s a baby elephant,” Brandi squealed, running behind her sister.
It grew quiet. Only the chirp of birds and the steady buzz of a neighbor’s lawn mower sounded in the air. Trevor gazed upward, Cassidy downward. Her smile spoke the poem that was in her heart.
I love you and I missed you and I’m so glad you’re home.
Trevor smiled, too, as if he’d opened her heart and read every word. Cassidy trotted along the same path the children had, plastered against him, and their arms became locks. The embrace was broken only because he sneezed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spray you.”
She smiled. “I guess I’ll have that cold now, too.”
“Come on,” he said. He grabbed his duffel bag from the hood of the SUV and held her hand. “There’s something you have to see.” Moments later, in their bedroom, they took side-by-side seats on the bed. He unzipped the duffel bag and clasped two envelopes. “This one first,” he said.
She opened the larger envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. It was a letter, written by Trevor, and she read what it said.
“I have you to thank for that,” he expressed when she finished. “I couldn’t have written it without your example of obedience to God’s Word.” He changed his mind. “Well, I might have written it, but not this soon.”
Although Minister was dead, as part of her therapy, Cassidy had written a letter to him, telling him anything and everything she needed to say in order to release her anger, offer forgiveness, and experience closure. And since her talk with Vivaca and the prayers that followed, little by little it was becoming easier for Cassidy to remember Minister, her pregnancy, and her baby without attaching negative emotions to her memories. She continued to hold Trevor’s letter: his words to the man who had taken Brenda from him and the girls. In precise and poignant language, Trevor had told this man he forgave him and, most important, how much Jesus loved him.
“I hadn’t forgiven him,” Trevor confessed. “I tried to convince myself that I had, but each time I attempted to pray for him, I couldn’t. I can now. I’ve made him a part of my prayers, and I’m going to send him this letter. I want him to know Jesus the same way I do.”
“Now we’re both free,” she said gently, and Trevor knitted their fingers until they were palm-to-palm, as she ogled the other envelope. “What’s in that one?”
“The reason for my disappearance.”
He passed the white envelope to her and unlaced their fingers so she could extract the contents, which she did, her pulse throbbing in anticipation of something she sensed would be a significant event.
A few minutes passed, and Cassidy was thankful Trevor had allowed her to spend them in silence, giving her room to ponder, and yearn, and memorize every facet of her little boy’s face. She knew it was her son in the picture. A mother knew. “Where did you get this?” Her voice was barely controlled as she gripped the edges of the small photograph as though it might fly away if she were to apply less pressure.
“I drove upstate, and with a little amateur detective work, I came across an article at the library about families who have adopted. One of the families, the Walshes, adopted an abandoned baby. It was a long shot, but I tracked them down.” He turned his face away and coughed. “The Walshes had a daughter, so I knew I was at the wrong house. Surprisingly, though, they gave me the name of the social worker they had dealt with. Turned out he no longer worked with the Social Services Department, and the person I did speak with said the files were confidential and that I should go home. And that’s what I intended to do, believing it wasn’t meant for me to find anything about your son.” Trevor glanced at the bright-eyed boy in Cassidy’s hands. “I returned to my motel room, packed up my stuff, and this morning I left. I stopped at this prehistoric-looking gas station a few miles from the turnpike, and this old black guy came out to pump the gas and clean the windows.”