Page 23 of Evan

His blue eyes brightened with tears, and he had to look away to compose himself.

“You did.”

“Until Darcy and Ingrid started to…”

“They did not think it was proper.” He smiled at her sadly. “Would you pray for me, my dear?”

“Always.” She gave him a solemn look that almost broke his heart. She was so wise beyond her age, that he was confident that she was going to be okay.

He would be praying for her as well. He had no business approaching his heavenly Father after living so blatantly in sin. But she was the innocent party, and he knew the Lord would not punish her because of him.

“Go on your date my dear but proceed with caution.” A frown touched his brow. “Evan Davenport is experienced in ways of the world and…,” he shook his head. “I am sure you will do what’s right.”

“I don’t think it’s really a date.”

He smiled at that. “I have a feeling it’s the beginning of one.”

*****

Evan stood in front of the mirror and stared at his image. He was frustrated and annoyed at how nervous he was. It was not a date.

He had been silently repeating those five words repeatedly, but the more he did, the more he realized he was fooling himself. He spent the remainder of the week vacillating between despair and hope, wondering if he would receive a phone call to say that she was not coming. That it was all a mistake.

But Friday had crept up and the day had ended without the dreaded phone call. Unable to resist the urge, he had called her with the details instead of just sending a message. He had fooled himself into thinking that he was being thorough and leaving nothing to chance.

And he had changed outfits three times. This was not him! Dragging off the blue and gray sports jacket, he went with the first one he had picked out. The navy blue would go great with the khaki dress pants and powder blue shirt.

Turning away from the mirror, he strode purposefully towards the armoire where several selections of colognes were lined up neatly. Before he could spend the time trying to decide whichone to spray, he picked one at random. He had started to spritz some at his throat when he realized what he was doing.

Putting the expensive bottle of scent down, he frowned at himself in the mirror. He was no gauche schoolboy and had never been even when he was thirteen.

He had to grow up pretty fast to keep up with his dad and uncle. Now he was perspiring copiously and shaking from nerves. This was not a date, he repeated it firmly, wanting it to become a mantra until it resonated inside his mind.

But no matter what he told himself, he was excited to see her again and couldn’t wait.

*****

“You are not helping.”

“Of course, I am.” Marsha was seated on the edge of her bed, enjoying every minute of her usually unflappable friend’s obvious nerves. “You said it’s not a date?”

“It’s not!” Cassandra insisted. Standing in front of the mirror, she peered at herself and wondered if she was showing cleavage. She did not want to give him any ideas and besides, a man like Evan Davenport was accustomed to beautiful women, models, actresses, lawyers, a judge…

“What am I doing, Marsha?” Turning away from the mirror, she sat next to her friend, pulling the full skirt of her russet color dress around her knees.

“You are being human.” Her friend told her firmly, admiring the heavy dark brown curls tumbling free around Cassandra’s face. Big gold hoops were at her lobes, and she was wearing russet colored lipstick. “You are following your heart.”

Cassandra gave her a dry look, a pensive expression on her face.

“Or I am reading too much in an invitation to an art gallery. He might just have an extra ticket and remembered me mentioning that I paint.” She rubbed her hands together absently. “Besides, we cannot be together.

He is Evan Davenport, and I am Cassandra Daley. I am a child of God, and the Bible clearly states that we should not be unequally yoked. Here I go again, overthinking. He is probably just looking for a friend. Or it amuses him to hook up with a church chick.” She grimaced when her friend burst out laughing.

“Church chick?”

She shrugged. “Or whatever the term is. I should have said no.”

“You still can.” Her friend pointed out. “But you won’t.”