Faithful (17 page)

“Worked out real well. I'm doing a search for him right now for a CFO.”

“Oh. I meant, what do you think about the church?”

Cedric nodded, waiting to swallow. “I don't make it every week, but I do enjoy the service. Music is awesome, people are friendly. It's a nice vibe.”

“What about Pastor Lyles?”

“He's cool. I like his style. I respect a man who doesn't pull any punches. He knows what he believes, and he doesn't change it up to make folk feel good. I can respect that.”

Cyd nodded. “That's definitely Pastor Lyles.”

He sipped his wine. “At the same time, it's a little extreme now and then. All the talk about holy living—it's unrealistic to expect people to actually live like that.”

Cyd sighed inside, thankful that Francesca had returned to take their order. She hadn't looked at the menu, so she turned to Cedric. “Why don't you order for me since you know what's good.”

He readily took up the request. “Let's order her the pan-roasted grouper with lobster ravioli and oven-dried tomatoes. I'll have the grilled beef tenderloin with lobster. I want to substitute the gnocchi for the mashed potatoes—you have to try the gnocchi,” he said to Cyd. He handed Francesca their menus. “I think that's good for now.”

Throughout the rest of dinner Cedric talked more about his job, Cyd acquainted him with hers, and there was lots of small talk about favorite things to do and see in the area. No doubt about it—she enjoyed him immensely. But as much as she'd prayed over the years to find the right man, she knew this definitely wasn't him.

C
EDRIC PULLED THE
car up to her curb again, cut the engine, and turned off the headlights.

“Dinner was wonderful, Cedric.” She looped her purse over her shoulder. “You made my birthday very special. Thank you for taking the time to celebrate with me.”

“It's not over yet.” He hopped out of the car.

What is he doing?

She opened her car door and got out.

Cedric opened the trunk and lifted a round box from inside.

“The celebration's not complete without cake.”

Cyd closed the passenger door. “Cedric, I appreciate it, but I had planned to just go inside and rest, get ready for church tomorrow. It's been a really long day.”

He looked at his watch. “It's only nine o'clock. Come on. Thirty minutes?”

She gazed toward the house. The butterflies danced. What could she say?
I'm afraid to let you in?

He held up the cake with a grin. “It's chocolate with whipped cream frosting. Your favorite.”

No wonder he asked me at the reception
.

She breathed in and out. “All right. Thirty minutes.”

Cyd took Reese out back to potty, and when they returned, the cake was on the kitchen table in the breakfast nook. Big 4 and 0 candles were lit on top, and
Happy Birthday, Cyd
was written in red letters atop the white icing. She was speechless.

He walked up beside her. “Make a wish and blow out the candles.”

She leaned over the cake and closed her eyes.

Lord, give me strength
.

She blew them out.

“Where are your dessert plates?” Cedric was searching the cabinets.

“That one,” Cyd said, pointing.

He found a knife, brought everything to the table, and cut two pieces. Cyd gave Reese a special bone to chew to keep her busy.

She had barely finished half her hunk when a yawn escaped. “I'm so sorry. Lack of sleep has caught up with me.”

“I hear you. I'm starting to feel it myself.” He rose from the table, looking at his watch. “Thirty minutes, as promised.”

Reese was pooped, too, probably from running around earlier with Phyllis's kids. Done with only half the bone, she lay stretched out on her side.

Cedric extended his hand to help her up and held it as they walked down the hall and into the foyer. Her body tingled when he stopped to look at her.

“I'm glad it was your birthday today. I had a good time.”

“So did I. Thank you again, for everything.”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then tugged her hand to bring her closer and kissed the side of her mouth, then her lips. She took a step back, but his arm came around her waist, fingers explored her hair. The kiss grew deeper . . . and more passionate.

Half of Cyd was upset that he'd be so presumptuous. The other half was completely intoxicated by him.

“You smell so good,” he said. He kissed her ear and moved her toward the sofa. Seconds later he had sunk down and pulled her with him, leaning into a reclining position.

Cyd was lost in the moment, caught up in passion she hadn't felt in years—passion she shouldn't be feeling now. If she didn't stop—“I can't.” She got up.

He grabbed her hand. “Why?”

She pulled it back. “It's wrong.”

“Wrong?” His brows knit. “I thought you weren't married.” He glanced in the direction of the stairs as if she might be hiding a husband up there.

“I'm not. It's just . . .” Her eyes searched the floor, her heart trying to find its rhythm.

He tipped her chin. “If we're moving too fast, I understand. I won't lie. I want to make love to you, but I would never make that kind of move unless you're ready.”

She closed her eyes. “You don't understand.” She looked at him again. “That's not something I would ever be ready for. I'm not into casual sex.”

“Oh.” He sat straighter. “I . . . I can understand that. You want to be in a committed relationship first?”

She gave an empty chuckle. “Yeah. The very thing you avoid.”

“It's not that I
avoid
it—”

“Cedric, let me be real plain with you. I'm not interested in sex at all, not outside of marriage.”

He stared deep into her eyes. “Are you serious? You're not a virgin, are you?”

She wished she could say yes. “No. But it's only been once, a long time ago.”

He lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow.”

The phone rang and froze them in place, Cedric gazing down, Cyd watching him, her emotions frazzled. After five rings, it stopped.

“I'm sorry.” She stepped around him and to the door. “I know you feel like you wasted your time with the roses and dinner and the cake and everything.”

“Not at all.” He followed her. “I don't want you to think I did all that to get you in bed.”

Her eyes questioned. “Didn't you?”

His mouth turned up in thought. “Okay, it may have crossed my mind. But really, I'm glad I did it.” He paused, staring at her again.

“So . . . I'm curious. What if you never get married? Why are you waiting to have sex?”

She looked at him. “Because I'm a Christian.”

He lifted his hands in a shrug. “So am I.”

She didn't know what to say. Slowly pulling the door open behind her, she gave a thin smile.

He walked beyond her and stopped, brushed the back of a finger against her cheek. Held her gaze so long she prayed for more strength.

And he was gone.

She closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling. When she'd gathered herself a little, she went to check the message. If it was Dana, she would call her right back.

“This is a recorded message from Living Word Community Church.”

Cyd frowned. The church rarely did these.

“Pastor Mason Lyles is announcing an important sermon series to begin tomorrow morning, October 19. The life and health of our church and its individuals are the impetus for this series, which will deal openly with the issue of sexual sin. All members of Living Word are strongly encouraged to attend. We will be kicking off a new initiative afterward, and as a result, there will be one service only, at 9:00 a.m., utilizing all sections of the balcony and overflow areas.

“Finally, we realize this is highly unusual, but at the request of Scott Elliott, we want to inform you that he will come before his church family tomorrow with a public confession.”

Twelve

S
COTT TIGHTENED THE
knot on his necktie and drew it up to the collar, the floor mirror his guide. He did it more slowly and carefully than normal, it seemed, and it looked fine, but he grunted, untied it, and started over.

Dana caught herself watching as she strode from the closet. She averted her eyes and continued into the bathroom.

“Dana?”

“Mm-hmm.” She opened a cabinet and pulled out her makeup bag.

“I'm glad you changed your mind about going today.” His voice traveled from his spot at the mirror. “It'll make a world of difference to have you there with me.”

Dana dabbed foundation on her forehead. Surely he didn't think she was going as a favor to him. If Pastor Lyles hadn't spoken to her personally, she'd be steering clear of Living Word today.

“I know you don't like the idea.” He was in the bathroom doorway now. “I'm not crazy about it myself.” He hung his head a moment. “You don't know how badly I wish none of this had ever happened. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't feel strongly that it's what God wants me to do.”

Dana tossed her eyes, nicking an eyelid with the mascara brush.
Now
he feels strongly about what God wants, when it'll publicly humiliate her? Since when did the Bible require a confession of this magnitude? The last thing she wanted was the entire congregation knowing their business.

“So you're still not talking to me?”

Not if I don't have to
.

“I thought it helped to pray with the pastor yesterday.”

Dana whisked a brush across her cheeks.

You have no idea
.

Were it not for the pastor, she might not even be there still. Trish had been telling Dana she needed to bring the kids and stay at her house for a while to think things through.

“After what he did,” Trish said, “he doesn't deserve you. You need to at least leave and make him sweat a little.”

Dana had been giving it serious thought, until the pastor showed up.

Pastor Lyles had shepherded her through many seasons, conducting their premarital counseling as well as their wedding ceremony. But she hadn't realized what a father figure he'd become until he walked through the door yesterday. He'd come to talk to Scott, and when Dana let him in, he hugged her and with a voice of assurance said that God would see them through this. She'd wept openly on his shoulder.

After he spoke privately with Scott, he met with the two of them together, recommended one of his assistant pastors for counseling, and prayed with them. On his way out, he'd pulled Dana aside.

“None of this will be easy,” he said, “but Scott loves you. Give him a chance. Don't throw away your marriage.” His voice was soft and caring. “I want you to do two things for me.” He had a father's gleam in his eye. “Don't move out . . .” The words wafted in midair, penetrating her soul. “And I want you to come to church tomorrow.”

Dana had cast her eyes aside.

“The service will be unlike any we've had,” he continued. “I think it'll bless people, and it might even bless you.”

She dismissed that last bit—it would
bless
her?—but she couldn't easily dismiss his requests. Maybe it was his prayer and words of support, or simply that she loved and trusted him. But she slept at home last night, and when she woke up, she felt an inner push to get ready and go to church.

Dana turned around now and saw that Scott was gone.

She exhaled and stared at herself as she applied lip gloss, Heather's face floating in her mind. It was always there. Without a doubt the girl was beautiful, and try as she might, Dana couldn't stop the mental comparisons between them. Heather had everything to do with her wardrobe this morning. Instead of the low heels and pants she usually wore—Living Word had a dressy casual culture—she wanted to look spiffier. She put on pumps and a long black skirt for the slimming effect, and instead of the black jacket that went with it, she added a mulberry long-sleeved top and jacket to at least look like she wasn't in mourning.

The makeup she took up a notch too—even found a blemish eraser thing she'd bought months ago. But the hair . . .

She took in her blunt cut, the one she'd felt such freedom about. She wished again that she'd kept her longer locks—and kept them blonde. Did Scott enjoy running his fingers through Heather's hair? Was the color enticing to him?

He said he told Heather after the wedding that their affair was wrong, that he was sorry it had happened. Told her not to call or approach him again in person. Even if he was telling the truth, it didn't mean Heather was behind them. If Dana was having a hard time getting Heather out of her head, what about Scott? He'd been intimate with her. He had feelings for her. Was Heather floating constantly in his mind too? Would she haunt them forever?

P
HYLLIS UNHOOKED HER
seat belt before the plane came to a full stop at the gate. When the bell sounded, she stood, grabbed her purse, and took to the aisle, dialing home. She'd arrived earlier than planned.

When she'd first made travel plans, she thought she'd want to linger longer at Stacy's, making the most of their weekend together. But she couldn't sleep last night, and lingering would have only invited questions about the party and possibly the ride home. Before the sun came up, she called the airline and asked about earlier flights and her chances of going standby. A departure time near Gretta's looked promising, and Stacy was able to take them to the airport together. Phyllis exhaled when they'd all hugged and gone their separate ways, thankful that most of the car talk focused on Gretta's stress with her part-time job and never once touched on the previous night.

She spent the entire plane ride trying to process her interaction with Rod, bringing his every word to mind, the thickness of his voice as he uttered them, the tentative gestures, those eyes. She turned them over and over until the pilot announced their descent, jarring her back to reality. She was home now, and whatever that was last night, there it would remain. She felt safe in that, knowing she didn't have to worry about crossing a dangerous line. Rod was hundreds of miles away, and she'd probably never see him again.