by Clare Revell
A few more pieces to cut out and then she could sit at the table and sew it together. If only I were making this for me. Yeah, right…like that’s ever going to happen. Still at least half my dream will come true by actually making it.
“Cassie!”
“Yeah, I’m coming.” She’d hoped to keep the pain from her face as she limped down the stairs, but could see from the creases on her mother’s face that she hadn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Dorrie asked, a frown crossing her sculptured features. Even at sixty-seven, she had kept the stunning looks of her youth, something Cassie was incredibly jealous over.
“I’m just sore, Mum. I’ll take the pain meds before we go.” She wasn’t going to take the easy option and use the crutches or the wheelchair. She’d had enough of the pitying looks and being ignored that came with the chair.
“Be sure you do. We’ll wait in the car. You’ve got two minutes.”
Feeling as if she were twelve again, Cassie went into the kitchen and took down the box of meds. As tempting as it was to stay home and rest—make that finish cutting the fabric—she had promised to go tonight. Pastor Jack was leading the prayer meeting. She looked at the really strong pain killers and lifted her hand, then shook her head, instead picking up the other bottle. I’ve got to ease off them. I don’t want to get addicted. Best stick to the over the counter stuff.
Not wanting to keep her parents waiting, she swallowed the pills quickly with a mouthful of water and headed to the door. The drive to church didn’t take long. As always her father pulled up outside the church to drop her off. “Thanks, Dad.”
Philip Hinton smiled. “Not a problem, sweetheart.”
Cassie got out of the car and took a minute to get her balance before heading into the church hall. Only half full, she still took a seat right at the back, on the end of the row. That way if she needed to leave for whatever reason, she could do so quickly and without a fuss. She glanced up.
Pastor Jack sat there deep in conversation with Pastor Bruce.
Her heart rate increased a little.
Stop it, Cassie. You’re not a school-girl and you are not crushing on him. You’re a grown woman, he’s a grown man—a very handsome grown man, all man—but he wouldn’t look twice at you. He’s a widower with a small child. But more than that, he’s a pastor. And he couldn’t marry you if you and he were the last two people on the face of the planet.
Cassie tried hard to concentrate as the prayer meeting started. The first part, led by Pastor Jack was a continuation of the study on one Peter chapter five. They had reached verses six and seven. Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s almighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.
Her mind immediately went to the picture that still hung above her bed—the one she’d had since a small child. Of a little girl in a red nightgown on her knees, a dog curled up next to her. He careth for you it read. Yeah right, the voice inside her muttered. If God really cared, He would have healed me and not left me a cripple.
Cassie pushed upright for the hymn, holding onto the chair in front of her for support. She sang from memory. Easing back down she tried to concentrate as the floor opened for whoever wanted to pray. Pastor Bruce led in prayer, and as she listened phantom pain started in her ankle, twisting through her non-existent calf muscles and slowly rising to stab at her knee.
The pain grew steadily worse, bringing the usual stomach churning nausea with it, until she pushed upright and quietly left the hall. She limped around the mingling area for a few minutes, trying to do what the physiotherapist told her and walk it off. Nothing worked. Tears sprang and she made her way to the stairs, sitting there quietly, her head buried in her hands.
The doctors told her this would stop after a while. That her mind would adapt to the loss of her leg and stop feeling it. But it had been a year and still it bothered her.
Cassie tried to pray, after all that was why she’d come, but the only word that came out was the familiar one. Why? She had been good at what she did. Not many women made it like she had. Why did God have to take it all away from her?
****
A waft of aftershave made Cassie open her eyes. Smart black shoes lined up next to the pink pumps poking out from her long dark green skirt and she looked up to see Pastor Jack sitting next to her. “Hi…”
Jack’s smile made her heart skip a beat. “Hey. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” He offered one of the steaming cups of coffee he held. “Because if I am, I can give you this and go sit somewhere else.”
“No, no, I was just thinking. Thank you.” She took the cup and inhaled its fragrance deeply before blowing it out and sipping the hot liquid. “It’s just how I like it. How did you know? I never drank coffee before leaving home.”
“I have a secret weapon.”
“Secret weapon? Did you ask Danny?”
Jack laughed. “No…Your mother’s on tea and coffee duty. When I said it was for you, she made it exactly how you like it.”
“Ah. That’s cheating.”
Jack grinned. “No law against having secret informants. At least I don’t think there is, anyway.” He sipped his coffee and leaned against the stairwell. “Are you all right? I noticed you go out part way through the meeting. You seemed to be in a great deal of pain.”
“I’m just having a really bad day.” She sucked in a deep breath, and then huffed it out. “Some days are easier than others. If it’s cold or wet, then the pain is worse. I’ve been on my feet a lot today, and I guess I overdid it a little.”
Concern filled Jack’s eyes. “Maybe Danny works you too hard.”
“No—far from it. He has to insist I stop to eat. Work takes my mind off other things.”
He sipped his coffee. “How’s the display coming on?”
“It’s coming brilliantly. I thought about what you said and inspiration hit me like a sledgehammer.”
Jack’s rich laugh sent ripples of delight running through her. His low voice didn’t help the way she felt. “That sounds painful. It wasn’t my intention, honestly. It didn’t hurt too much, did it?”
Cassie looked at him, seeing genuine interest and care in his eyes. Oh, if only things were different. She could get used to sitting alone with him, coffee in hand, just talking about work at the end of each day. She shook her head. Not going to happen, grow up and answer his question. “Not too much, no. But it gave me the boost I needed and it’s all planned now. It’ll be the best store window display in the whole of Headley Cross—I hope.” She paused. “Hmmm, that isn’t very modest, is it?”
“Not really, but I’m glad I could help.” Jack took a long sip of his coffee. “When will the display be up?”
“Danny wants it done by Monday or Tuesday, but I don’t know. I don’t want to rush because it has to be perfect. Danny says if it isn’t, then he’s blaming you for giving me the idea in the first place. If it had been up to me I’d have stayed home tonight and finished the bit I was doing.”
Cassie broke off, her cheeks burning. Had she really just said that, to a pastor, of all people? “Don’t get me wrong—I have nothing against church. It’s just there’s so much to do and with only a week to do it in—” Her voice tailed off, feeling the disapproval radiating from him.
“There are always plenty of hours left in a day for work and play after spending time with God. He honors those who honor Him.”
“I’m afraid I don’t believe that line anymore.”
“Why’s that?” He sipped his coffee. The subtle change in his tone letting her know he’d gone from friend to pastor. She recognized it of old. Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed hard. Jack looked at her, holding her gaze, waiting for an answer.
“I honored Him for years. Didn’t train on a Sunday, didn’t race on a Sunday and made a stand for doing so. That’s half of what I was famous for—taking a stand. However, it got me nowhere.” Her voice trembled as some of the anger and resentment she trie
d so hard to keep under lock and key spilled out.
She gripped the cup firmly and took a long drink, pleased when the scalding liquid burned her throat on its way down to her stomach. It took her mind off the phantom pain that throbbed its way from the tips of her toes to above her knee. “I’m only here because Mum and Dad expect it and while I’m living under their roof, I shall abide by their wishes. Even if it’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?” he asked.
“History rewritten.” Cassie sighed heavily. “I want my life back. But that’s not going to happen. God took it away. Oh, I know He’s there and still has the whole world in His hands, as the song goes, I just don’t think He cares for me anymore. If He did care, He wouldn’t have done this to me.”
Jack looked at her and for a moment she could see pain and hurt shine in his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply when someone came running over.
“Sorry to interrupt, Pastor, but Mrs. Jenson rang. She says it’s urgent. She tried your mobile, but you didn’t answer. I told her you probably had it on silent during the meeting and you’d call her back.”
“All right, thanks.” He pulled out his phone and dialed quickly. “Hi, Mrs. Jenson, its Jack…I’ll be right home. No, you did the right thing. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He pushed up. “Lara’s sick. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“Hope she feels better soon.” Cassie watched him leave, wondering what he’d been about to say. No doubt it would be another lecture on how God was loving and forgiving and didn’t hurt people intentionally, or out of spite. She’d heard that several times before and didn’t want or need to be told it again. She looked down at the cup, the brown liquid swirling as she moved her hands.
“If He did care, he wouldn’t have done this to me.” Her last words rang in her ears, her conscience berating her, guilt churning up the coffee in her stomach. She wished she could apologize, but he was gone. I don’t suppose he wanted his wife to die, either.
Cassie's Wedding Dress
3
Jack parked in the library parking lot and walked down the High Street. His mind was firmly on Cassie. Guilt plagued him for not saying anything, and he prayed the moment wasn’t gone. He couldn’t leave things as they were. She needed his help—even if it was just as a pastor.
He headed to the craft store. Danny was at the counter when he arrived. He wandered around picking up a friendship bracelet kit that hopefully a grumpy seven year old would enjoy doing over the weekend. He didn’t see any of the rabbits other than the ones in the window.
“Morning, Jack. How are you?” Danny smiled.
“I can’t complain.”
“How’s Lara? Cassie said something about her being taken ill last night.”
“She’s fine. It turned out to be nothing serious.”
“I’m glad to hear it. There’s nothing like a sick kid to get your heart racing.”
Jack put the bracelet kit on the counter. “Yeah. Speaking of Lara, she wanted me to get her one of the rabbits like you have in the window. But I can’t find any.”
“Cassie made them for the display. She’s not here to ask, but I’m sure she won’t object to you having one of those, as we’re changing it next week, anyway. Let me ring her and check.” He pulled a phone from his pocket.
“Is she not in today? I was hoping to talk to her.”
“No, she’s working from home. She said she’s got more room there to work on the new display.” He broke off as she answered. “Hey Cass, it’s me. You know those knitted rabbits in the window? Yeah, I got a customer who wants one…sure. You got a price for it?” He rolled his eyes. “Try again…that’s better. Thank you.”
He hung up. “She says it’s yours for a quid.” He moved over to the window. “Which one?”
Jack chose the one Lara had pointed out.
“That’s six fifty, please.” He smiled. “You could always go over to the house and visit her. Mum and Dad are out today, so she’s on her own.”
“You sound worried about her.”
“Yeah, we all are. It’s not just that she’s thrown her faith out of the window the last few months, but since she’s come home, she’s a different person. She used to be outgoing and fun, but since the accident, she only goes out if she has to.” He handed over the change. “She won’t talk to me, I’ve tried. She always did talk to you, about everything from what I recall. Maybe she will this time.”
“I’ll go and see her and see what I can do. Thanks for this. Lara will love it.”
“We aim to please. Want me to let Cass know you’re coming?”
“No—I’ll surprise her.”
****
The Hinton house was a fifteen minute drive from the shop. Jack drove thinking about what Danny said. Cassie had certainly seemed bitter last night. He knew where she was coming from… he’d lost his soul mate, Cassie lost her career. He understood loss too well.
The sun was warm as he walked up the path through daffodils interspaced with tulips lining the edge of the stones. They made a glorious patch of color against the green grass. Roses climbed over the arbor, their tightly closed buds hinting at things to come.
Jack loved this time of year. Spring was the rebirth of everything old—the perfect picture of Easter, and his Lord’s death and resurrection. He reached out and rang the doorbell, his smile widening as the Westminster chimes rang out. His grandmother had the same doorbell.
After a long pause, he rang the bell again. Still no one came. Maybe she went out after all. He was about to turn and leave, when he saw someone through the glass coming slowly down the hallway.
“I’m coming.” Her voice sounded irate. It looked and sounded like Cassie, but wasn’t moving like her. The door swung open and Cassie stood there.
Jack’s gaze slid downwards, hoping his involuntary double take wasn’t too obvious as he took her in. She leaned heavily on the crutches, only one foot visible beneath her ankle length skirt. He raised his eyes back to her face, not wanting to be caught gawking. Knowing about it and seeing it for the first time were two totally different things.
“Yes? Oh, Pastor Jack—hello.” Color flooded her face, and she shifted her weight on the crutches.
“Hi.” Jack kept his eyes firmly on her face. “If this is a bad time, I can call back.”
“No, please come in. The kettle just boiled, and I was about to make some coffee if you’d like some.”
“Coffee would be good. Thank you.”
She moved to let him come in. “Give me a few minutes to change and—”
“Don’t feel you have to change on my account, Cassie.” Jack watched her close the door. “This is your home and if you’re comfortable in what you have on, then it’s fine. Besides, you look great just the way you are.”
Cassie humphed as she led the way to the kitchen. “How’s Lara? Is she feeling better? You ran out pretty quickly last night.”
“Yeah, she’s fine. My babysitter thought Lara had meningitis. She complained of a headache, sore throat and a rash. One trip to the Emergency Department later and it’s an allergy rash caused by the new fabric softener.”
“At least it was nothing serious.” Cassie leaned on one crutch as she spooned instant coffee into the cups.
“Yes. The doctor didn’t mind me taking her in. He said it was better to err on the side of caution than ignore the symptoms. I sent Lara to school—under protest.” Jack marveled at the way she balanced as she poured the boiling water onto the coffee and added the milk.
“Mum used to do that. She always said ‘If you’re sick…’”
“‘…they’ll send you home,’” Jack chorused with her. He took the cup she pushed towards him. “Thank you. Yeah, my mum always said the same thing. Used to tell myself I’d never tell my kids that, but you know what? I use a lot of Mum’s lines on Lara.”
A faint smile crossed her face as she looked at him. “Does that include the starving children in Africa line?”
“It does. But she has
n’t yet told me to pack her dinner up and send it to them. Let me take yours, too.” He picked up both cups. “Where shall we sit?”
“Maybe in the lounge.” Cassie led the way and then sat in the arm chair and tucked her leg up underneath. “Thank you,” she said as he set the coffee down.
“Welcome.” Jack settled on the couch and looked at her. “So how are you, really?”
“Not great. I didn’t sleep, and I have all this work to do and…” Her hand went back to her lap, falling through the gap to the chair. Tears filled her eyes before she blinked them away. “Sorry. And I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you last night. Sometimes it seems like I’m the only person in the world to feel this way. But I know I’m not. I had no right to snap like that.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should apologize for running out like that.”
“It’s fine. You did the right thing. You have to put Lara first—especially when she’s sick.” She paused. “Is this a random visit? Or did Mum rave about my coffee making skills last night, as well?”
“No, she didn’t. Although it is very nice coffee, thank you. I wanted to carry on with our conversation from last night and talk about what happened. And why you think that means God doesn’t care about you.”
“Will it bring my leg back?”
Jack shook his head, his own pain echoing what he could see in her eyes. “No more than me talking about my wife will bring her back. But it does help. And maybe we can work out the answers together.”
****
Cassie looked down at her cup. Nothing would help. Rehashing this certainly wouldn’t. He knew the story anyway—Danny or her parents would have told him. That’s if he hadn’t read it in the papers or seen it on the TV. She’d seen back copies that showed she’d been headline news for a day or two. What harm can it do? It can’t make me feel any worse than I already do, can it?
“I was riding in the Grand National last year. The horse fell at Becher’s Brook and landed on top of me. My leg was crushed, and I was in a medically induced coma for a while.” She sucked in a deep breath and then blew it out. “A while—try two weeks. In the end the doctors had to remove my leg to save my life. But by doing so, they also ended my career.”