by Mata Elliott
“Hello,” she said in a low, musical voice.
Trevor feigned indifference for a few moments, and then the smile he was stifling burst onto his lips. “Hello to you, too, Sky,” he said. He reached to close the door behind him.
“You can leave it open. The kids are with Penny.” She had arranged for a sleepover several days ago.
Trevor slowly crossed the room, removing his necktie as he walked closer to the silken voice. He stopped between the bed and the table Cassidy had prepared. Now he noticed the smaller bowl, filled with white powder.
“Powdered sugar,” she said, gliding to her feet. Strawberries sheathed in powdered sugar were one of his favorite tastes, and he watched, fire spreading through his heart, as Cassidy selected one of the strawberries and rolled it in the soft dust. She raised the fruit to his mouth, and he opened so she could place the whole sweet prize on his tongue. She reached for a napkin, but Trevor wanted all of the sweetness, and starting with her pinkie, nibbled the excess sugar from each of Cassidy’s plain, tapered nails, then tipped her chin and pressed his lips to hers, savoring every wonderful bit of the night’s first kisses. Sighing in unison, they punctuated their kisses with an embrace, Trevor stroking the strip of spine between Cassidy’s shoulder blades with tender admiration, absorbing the softness of her robe.
“No more waiting,” she whispered.
Trevor pushed her braids out of the way and nuzzled her neck. “What do you mean?”
Her husky response tickled his ear. “You know what I mean.”
Trevor worried that he did know. For a few moments, he hugged her tighter and hunted for words that would not wound or offend her. He looked into her face and said sincerely, “I think we should follow Dr. Tia’s advice and let things happen slowly, without pressure.”
Her eyes, so spirited when he’d first come home, became unsure. He was afraid she was taking his apprehension as rejection, whereas what fueled his hesitation was his concern that she was about to get in over her head.
“But I want us to have it all.” She pushed to her toe tips and kissed his goatee. He realized his expression reflected his worry because she added, “I’m better. I know I’m better.”
Trevor smiled into her eyes, although behind her loving gaze hung a shadow of something Trevor couldn’t put into words, something Cassidy wasn’t saying.
“Trust me, Trevor,” she cooed up at him, and he allowed the silk-covered words to wiggle past his better judgment. A second later, he led her to the bed. A minute later, her robe sailed to the floor.
An hour later, the room lay netted in unspoken disappointment. Outfitted in jeans and a pullover shirt, Cassidy tied her sneaker laces with fast-moving fingers.
“Where are you going?” Trevor questioned, his tenor-tone tired as he sat up in the bed.
“I’m going for a drive.” She spit her words as if she might otherwise choke on them. “I need to get out of here.”
“Cassidy.” He softened his voice more. “Don’t walk away. Let’s talk this out, pray through it—”
“I don’t feel like praying,” she snapped, and grabbed her car keys from the dresser. “I feel like screaming because I am so sick of having this condition.”
“Honey, you’re not always going to have it.” He started to get out of bed, but she stepped back, a sign she needed space, and he abandoned the notion of going to her.
“All I wanted to do tonight was what a woman is supposed to be able to do.” She swallowed what he could only think had to be a big ball of pain. “I want to be normal,” she strained. “I want to be able to satisfy my husband.”
He gave her the truth. “You do satisfy me.”
She stared at him and then, right there, he saw it again—the same wave of “there’s something I’m not saying” that he’d seen in her eyes earlier.
Cassidy marched to the door, the keys clinking in reply to her quick pace. Irritation and defeat and pride pressed Trevor to react with words, cold and mean, just so she would stay. Even if they were arguing, they would be communicating, and there was a chance they could fix things. But he held back, only saying, “Take my truck.” The day was swiftly approaching when Hulk or any other mechanic wouldn’t be able to do a thing for Cassidy’s car, and Trevor didn’t want his wife broken down on the road somewhere this time of night. “Or take Brenda’s Maxima,” he suggested.
Cassidy abruptly stopped and bristled like Poopie did whenever there was a sudden and loud noise. She walked out of the bedroom, and out of sight, but he heard her state clearly, “I’m not taking Brenda’s Maxima.”
Cassidy cruised into a spot in front of her old house. She thought about old times and the person she used to talk with at the kitchen table. “I miss you so much, Aunt Odessa.”
There weren’t any noises tonight, and not another human being in sight. Cassidy grasped the lever and let the seat of her car go all the way back. She closed her eyes and reflected on what happened in her bed, not this night, but the night before, and other recent nights. Trevor had called for Brenda. In his sleep, he pleaded for her. It left Cassidy pondering if he wanted Brenda back. If at moments Cassidy longed to hug Odessa, why wouldn’t Trevor long to hug his first wife, his first love, the woman who had given him children and pleased him in bed in a way she still couldn’t?
And then there was Kendall.
Cassidy laughed with sarcasm. Kendall had probably authored the manual on how to please a man. That could have very well been the reason Trevor had not come home until two in the morning the time he drove Kendall back to her hotel. Trevor thought she was sleeping when he slid in beside her, but Cassidy had only pretended to be asleep while choking on emotion as she examined the possibility that Trevor had given himself to Kendall. Why else would he not have come directly home or called and told her where he was or answered his cell phone when she called to find him? And why to this day had he not offered any explanation?
Cassidy started the car and turned on the radio. Craving something other than classical music, she searched for a Christian station.
“I will praise God at all times,” the woman preacher on the radio underscored with a strong, vibrant voice. “I will thank God if the table is full or if the table is empty. I will lift my mouth to Him with a blessing on sunny days and cloudy days.” The audience in the background cheered, “Hallelujah.”
Cassidy steered home, listening to the remainder of the message. “It doesn’t matter how you feel,” the preacher continued. “It doesn’t matter how things look. God is to be praised. Peace comes through praise. Praise is the prelude to your breakthrough.”
chapter forty-two
Cassidy rode in the passenger seat next to Trevor, the joy of the Lord mending her heart as she whispered silent praises to God all the way to church. When Cassidy arrived home last night, Trevor was gone, no note telling of his destination, and there had been no answer to her cell phone attempts to reach him. Anger, her first reaction, had been quickly quelled as she returned her focus to God and praised Him until she fell asleep sometime after one. This morning, when she came down for breakfast, she found Trevor stretched on the living room sofa in a deep sleep. She didn’t think he was going to church today, but while she was dressing, he showered and dressed and was downstairs ready to go before she had decided which purse to take.
So far, neither had said much beyond good morning, although Cassidy had wanted to talk. Apologies needed to be made on both their parts, but the attempt she made to have a discussion before they pulled from the driveway had been met with a cool, firm “Not now, Cassidy.” Cassidy believed her ongoing intimate praise party with the Lord was the main reason she had once again been able to put anger aside and respond with a respectful nod of acquiescence.
The second service was scheduled to start in five minutes, and Trevor veered into the last available parking slot as Lena scurried toward them.
“We’ve got to talk,” Lena said as Cassidy stepped down from the SUV.
“What’s
wrong?” Cassidy asked. Lena’s face was wearing the same expression it had worn several years back when she discovered that the new man in her life was living out of his car.
“I wanted to warn you, so I called you at home and on your cell phone, but you didn’t pick up.”
Cassidy hadn’t felt like talking on the phone this morning, so she’d let the voice mail box for the home phone and her cell phone take all calls. “What’s going on?” she asked, scanning the area. Some of the members had formed small groups, and they were looking at them and whispering.
Lena leaned her hand on the truck as if she needed support. “During the first service, Yaneesha said—” She grew silent as Trevor turned the meeting into a threesome.
His voice came down hard. “Yaneesha said what?”
Lena rolled her eyes up slowly, like it was hurting her eyes to look up that high. “Yaneesha says you and her are having an affair. She said you were with her last night. She said she was pregnant with your child, but had a miscarriage in the eighth week, and that you were happy that she had.”
“Lena,” Cassidy said, “we’re really not in the mood for a practical joke this morning.”
“I’m not joking.” Under the weight of her seriousness, her expression became even more somber. “Somehow Yaneesha got past the ushers, wrestled the microphone out of the worship leader’s hand, and in tears she confessed that she had sinned with you.” Lena looked only at Trevor for a moment. “The congregation was so silent you could hear the dust falling, and I’ve never seen Pastor Audrey look so angry. You could see he was fighting to keep his cool as he snatched the microphone from Yaneesha, then told her to leave the pulpit and go to his study right away.” Lena shook her head. “It was a mess.”
The tips of Trevor’s ears turned red, and his eyes were an inferno of outrage. He snapped a hand around Cassidy’s and started marching toward the church. He was moving so quickly Cassidy almost came out of one of her heels. When they arrived at Pastor Audrey’s office door, Trevor banged on the wood but didn’t wait to be invited in. They stopped in the middle of the room, and he relinquished Cassidy’s hand. She shook it because his grip had been firm enough to produce a small prickling of pain. “Where’s Yaneesha?” Trevor demanded.
Clement observed them from his seat at his desk. He raised his big bones to a standing position and zippered his black preaching robe. His response was as calm as his presence. “I asked Yaneesha to go home for the day, and unless you compose yourself, I’ll advise you to do the same.”
Trevor stormed to the edge of the pastor’s desk. “How composed should I be with a psycho running around spreading lies about me?”
Clement stared at Trevor through serious eyes.
Trevor responded with a look of disbelief. “Oh, I know you don’t believe Yaneesha’s crap.” In his anger, his tone had become disrespectful, and Trevor had completely stepped over the line separating pastor from parishioner. He turned as if he was finished, then whirled back. “You know, maybe if you’d had better control over your pulpit, none of this would have happened in the first place.”
Cassidy lost her breath, and her stare widened, her gaze whipping from Trevor to Clement and back. There was nothing in Trevor’s expression that said he was sorry and nothing in Clement’s that said he would accept an apology even if it was offered. Frankly, it looked as though if one man were to swing, the other would swing harder.
Cassidy edged forward, hoping that the slight disturbance caused by her movement might defrost the frowns on both faces and remind them of where they were. Cassidy breathed easier, singing internal hallelujahs when Clement finally breathed and Trevor dropped his shoulders a notch.
“I haven’t had a chance to thoroughly talk with you or the other party, so I don’t know what is or isn’t ‘crap,’” Clement said. “I’m meeting with Miss Polk this evening. Will you be available in the morning?”
Trevor folded his arms, and though he looked unhappy, he answered with a muffled “Yes.” His gaze landed on Clement’s desk, and he picked up a big black Bible. Trevor’s full name, Trevor Jerome Monroe, imprinted in gold letters, decorated the bottom right corner of the soft leather cover. “I lost this Bible last summer. It never turned up in the Lost and Found, and I thought it was gone forever.”
“Miss Polk brought it to church today,” Clement revealed. “According to her recollection of the facts, you left it in her apartment.”
Trevor chuckled. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve never set foot in Yaneesha’s . . .” Embarrassment robbed Trevor’s face of any other emotion. He stared at Cassidy, and Cassidy’s heartbeat picked up speed. Not for a moment had she believed Trevor had been involved with Yaneesha. Even though Clement needed to hear Yaneesha’s side, Cassidy had believed her husband. However, her mind suddenly became colored with images, and they flashed one behind the other.
The Sunday Yaneesha walked up to her and said Trevor was at her apartment . . . the night Cassidy assumed he was with Kendall . . . last night . . . where was he last night?
Cassidy curled a hand over the back of a chair. The furniture would keep her from falling as Trevor confessed. One of Cassidy’s coworkers had been in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner when her husband blurted out his infidelity. A sister at the church learned her husband was sleeping around when he stood up during service and put it in the form of a prayer request. So Cassidy knew this was how such news came. Quick. A sucker punch.
“Once.” Trevor held the Bible in a rigid grip, down by his leg. “I was in Yaneesha’s place once. One of my drivers had to take off early, and I had to pick up the slack like I do from time to time.” His eyes never left Cassidy. “I made three deliveries that night, and one of them happened to be to Yaneesha. She asked me to come in and put her cake on the table, which I did. And left. It was so uneventful I never thought about it after that.”
“I have a sermon to preach,” Clement said quietly. “The two of you can stay in here and talk if you’d like, for as long as you need.”
Trevor walked to the only window in the room. It offered a view of a miniature garden, planted in memory of Odessa and two other church mothers recently called to glory.
“Thank you, Pastor,” Cassidy said. Pastor Audrey left the office, but not before looking back on them with concern. When the door shut, it felt as if she had been sealed in a jar with another insect that wanted to get out as much as she did. She studied the other insect. His hands were shoved in the pockets of olive-colored pants, and his back was a wall of tense muscle. The strain caused his shoulder blades to push against the cotton of an informal button-down shirt. Cassidy had on a jacket dress, and the linen brushed her fingertips as she hugged herself.
“Let’s go.” He pulled out his car keys and strode past her.
Cassidy walked quickly behind him, pleased with his request. She, too, would rather talk about this behind the closed door of their home. They departed the same way they had entered—through a side door, out of the scope of much of the crowd. In the truck, they fastened their seat belts, and Trevor started the ignition.
“I’ll drop you off at home,” he said as the engine hummed.
She stared at him and asked softly, “Where are you going?”
“No place special.”
“But I thought we were going home to talk.”
“Did you want to talk last night?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Well, I don’t want to talk now.”
As they approached the end of the street, she said, “Pull over. I want to get out.”
Her feet met the sidewalk, and it was Trevor’s turn to ask, “Where are you going?”
Cassidy gently shut the door and glanced up the street. “I feel like I need to be in church.” She set her eyes to convey how much she wanted him to come with her. She didn’t care what people whispered about them. She wanted to worship, hear the Word with the man she loved by her side.
“I’ll see you later,” was all he said, and drove of
f.
Cassidy trudged up the street toward the church, old messages creeping into her spirit and stirring up fear. I told you Trevor was molded from the same clay as Minister and Larenz.Trevor’s going to hurt you, too. Although tired, Cassidy fought back with the Word. “God has not given me the spirit of fear.”
The negative messages continued to assault her. Trevor slept with Yaneesha. Trevor slept with Kendall. You’ll never be good in bed. You’ll never be the wife, the lover, the mother Brenda was. Trevor doesn’t love you. Brittney hates you. You’re a failure, Cassidy.
Cassidy countered: “I am more than a conqueror.”
“Amen to that,” a familiar voice interrupted.
Cassidy jumped out of the meditation she’d been so deeply submerged in. “Oh my goodness, Sister Audrey, I didn’t notice you.”
Some minutes later, Cassidy sat at the Audreys’ kitchen table, heat rising from a cup of green tea. “Thank you for inviting me in,” Cassidy said as Vivaca pulled out a chair and joined her.
“I’m just glad I listened to the Spirit’s leading and came home early.”
Cassidy nodded, also understanding it wasn’t coincidence that had put them together. There was a greater force at work. “Trevor’s angry. I thought he and your husband were going to fight right there in the church.”
Vivaca gave up a chuckle. “That would have been a sight.” Her alto sound was as smooth as the honey she’d put in her tea. “Have you and Trevor had a chance to talk about what happened during service this morning?”
“No,” she answered disappointedly.
“Clement has told me that you and Trevor have had several sessions with him.”
“Yes. They’ve helped us a lot, but . . .”