Page 22 of Evan

She had sat there gazing dreamily at nothing in particular and wishing he had stayed longer. Rubbing her palms on the edge of her pink and blue skirt, she looked at the man she considered to be more than just her pastor. “I received a phone call from Evan Davenport.”

“I see.” His expression did not change, but the two words had a wealth of meaning behind them. “I hope he is not calling to ask back for his check. We already cashed it.”

“No.” She shook her head and nervously lifted one slender hand to her throat. “He invited me to a gallery opening. Jackson Colby.”

The man’s eyebrows lifted. “You love that sort of thing.”

She nodded. “And I have wanted to meet Jackson Colby for as long as I can remember.” She laughed nervously. “I recall the first time I saw a painting of his. I was in college and a group of us pooled together to go to this art showing.

There I was, standing in the lofty gallery and staring at this clash of colors that shocked the senses. It was so beautiful that it took me several minutes to move away. I wanted that painting so badly, that I had to ask the Lord for forgiveness for my obsession.”

“Was it an obsession?” He asked her kindly, studying her face.

“It most definitely was!” She laughed again; her head bent. “And I am going to have to pray about something else.”

“We always have things to pray about.”

“This is something specific.” She looked over at him. “I am attracted to him.”

“I am assuming we are not talking about the famous Jackson Colby.”

“No.” Cassandra shook her head. “Oh pastor, what am I doing?”

“You are being human.”

“He is out of my league. We argue about religion because of his views on the Lord. I sensed there is something profoundly sad about him and every time I am with him, the time just seem to go by so quickly.” Her finger was drumming restlessly on her thighs.

“It’s not our place to try and save anyone.” He reminded her, more than a little troubled about her confession. He had told Marjorie his fears and that he did not want to see her get hurt.

He knew she was an adult and more than that, she was an exceptionally beautiful woman, not just on the outside. Cassandra Daley had a heart of gold and deserved the very best.

“I know.”

“And you know how I feel about seeing someone not of the faith.”

Leaning against his desk, he gave her his full attention. “But you are a very smart woman, Cassie. I have seen the way you conductyourself and I am so proud of you.” He paused, wondering how to continue without sounding as if he was condemning her.

“Evan Davenport is a man of the world, and I don’t want you to be tempted to do something you will regret.” He sounded like a bloody hypocrite preaching to her.

She was good and pure and followed the dictates of the Bible to a T. He was the one who had strayed from the path he had chosen, or the one that had been chosen for him. He was certainly not in any position to dispense advice, not of this kind anyway. “But I trust you,” he added with a faint smile.

“That’s it though.” She admitted with a tiny smile, her eyes shadowed. “I am not sure I trust myself. He is…” Moving backwards in the chair, she closed her eyes briefly as she struggled to find the right words.

“Ever since I met him, there is something about him that I cannot seem to fight.” She shook her head ruefully. “I am not sophisticated, and I don’t want to be. I love who I am in Christ. I am confident in his love for me and know that I am guaranteed that love for the rest of my life. I love my life.

My church family means the world to me and this job is something that refreshes me. No two days are the same.” She smiled at him gently. “We are imperfect beings loved and cherished by a perfect God and I live in constant fear of disappointing Him.”

“My dear.” Pastor William clasped his hands loosely on top of his desk, a frown touching his brow. “We will ultimately disappoint our perfect God, just by being.

Our sinful nature will always fight with the Holy Spirit.” He looked down at his hands and felt the anguish almost overwhelming him. He had spent an inordinate amount of time with a woman who was not his wife and was not guilty.

It had taken everything in him to pull out of her loving arms to go home to a very cold and uncaring wife. She had been asleep when he got home. And had not even stirred when he walked into the room and stood there staring at her still form.

“Life has a way of throwing us curve balls we never saw coming.” He looked at her and had a feeling that she knew what was happening between him and Ingrid and what was taking placewith Marjorie. But he did not dare ask her. He lived in dread of disappointing her.

She was his daughter. He had not been the one to plant the seed, but he felt as if he had. She was so dear and precious to him that he could not bear it if she looked at him with loathing.

“I have always wanted to call you, dad.”