Faithful (23 page)

Everybody chuckled.

Lindell chuckled, too, but with an earnestness in his eyes. “I can definitely say that when I got married just four days ago, I didn't view marriage the way I do now. Now it seems like it's so . . . I don't know . . . a high calling. It's almost scary, like you don't want to mess up.”

Lindell realized what he'd said and glanced over at Scott. Scott nodded in agreement to let him know it was okay.

No one spoke for a few seconds, then Hayes cleared his throat. “I want to comment on this question. I always viewed marriage as a high calling, but not because of anything biblical. To me, it's a high calling because it's bringing together two lives, and then children come into the fold, and I have a duty to make sure I treat those lives with the utmost respect and honor. As a man, there's no higher calling than for me to love and protect my wife.” He looked at Phyllis, then shot a pointed glance over at Scott. “I couldn't imagine betraying her.”

“Well . . .” Lindell raised his paper quickly. “Let's move on to the next question. ‘What is the path to adultery? Where does it start and how does it build?'”

Silence reigned.

After a few long seconds, Scott quietly turned the pages of his Bible. When he looked up finally, he seemed surprised to see that they were all looking at him.

“I think this tells us where it starts,” he said. He looked back at the page. “When the serpent tempted Eve, it says she
saw
that the forbidden tree was good for food and a delight to the eyes, that it was desirable. That was when she took it and ate.” Scott paused. “As long as she kept clear of that forbidden fruit, she was fine. But when she looked too long at it . . .”

“That's an excellent point, Scott.” Cyd was reading over the passage. “So true—keep away from whatever's forbidden.”

“
As in
, we shouldn't be sending e-mails to members of the opposite sex, telling them we miss them?” Lindell directed the question to Scott, and Stephanie cut her eyes at him. “And we shouldn't be making plans to hook up with them?”

“From personal experience,” Scott said, “no, we definitely shouldn't be doing those things. It doesn't lead anywhere good.”

Hayes sat forward. “I don't see why we had to go to Genesis to understand that we have no business handling forbidden fruit. It's common sense. If the woman isn't your wife, you shouldn't be in her face. You don't need to be calling her, going to lunch, meeting here and there. I've always made it a policy not to even meet with a woman alone in my office with the door closed.”

Hayes's words hung in the air, along with the feeling that no one knew what to say after that.

“O-kay,” Lindell said, “sounds like we're already answering this next question, ‘How can the sin of adultery be avoided?' We've gotten some practical advice—keep away from forbidden fruit, make sure we avoid situations where we're alone with someone of the opposite sex.” He looked at no one in particular. “And no suggestive notes, e-mails, and the like. Anyone like to add anything more?”

“Ultimately,” Scott began, “it takes the power of Christ in our lives to avoid sexual sin. That's why He came and died for—”

“Man, that's a bunch of bull.”

Phyllis, who had looked downward the other times Hayes commented, now snapped her head his way, eyes full of shock.

Hayes focused like a laser beam on Scott. “You're going to sit here and tell me it takes the power of Christ to avoid sexual sin, when you call yourself a Christian and you slept with another woman?” His jaw was firm, his eyes hard. “And here I am, an ‘unbeliever'”—he smirked as he curled his fingers into quotes—“and I've avoided sexual sin quite well. It doesn't take the power of Christ. It takes loving your wife enough to keep your pants up around other women.”

“Hayes!” Phyllis stood, her Bible and paper falling to the floor.

Stephanie, closest to her, tipped over and picked them up.

“I can't believe you!” Phyllis said.

Hayes came to his feet. “I can't believe
him
.” He flipped his hand toward Scott. “He's got a lot of nerve peddling this Jesus talk after what he did.”

Lindell was up now, taking a couple of steps toward Hayes. “With all due respect, Hayes, Scott was just sharing the truth about—”

“The truth.” Hayes's voice was calmer now as he stared at Lindell, then glanced around the room. “You know what the truth is? The truth is that you're all in a cult. I thought I could come tonight and infuse some reality into the discussion, but you all can't get beyond Jesus and the Bible.” He shook his head. “It might make you feel good to believe all that, but don't call it
truth
. There's nothing true about it.” He looked around the room. “I'm out of here.”

Cyd didn't know whether to run after Hayes or comfort Phyllis, who was in tears in the middle of the floor. When Cyd saw Dana and Stephanie gathered to her side, she rushed to the foyer, where Hayes was lifting his leather jacket from the chair.

“Hayes.” When he turned, she didn't know what to say. “Can we talk? I just wish you wouldn't leave like this.”

“I don't have anything else to say.” He slipped his jacket on and reached for the door handle, then turned partway. “You and I have always gotten along, Cyd, and I'm sure I offended you. I'm sorry, but I had to say what I felt. I understand if you don't want anything to do with me.”

Cyd stepped closer. “We're still friends as far as I'm concerned.”

Hayes looked down and turned back to the door. “Tell Phyllis I'll see her at home.”

Cyd watched Hayes take the walkway and turn right onto the sidewalk, leaving Phyllis the car. She felt an incredible sadness . . . for Phyllis, because of the hope she'd had for the evening—hope Cyd had talked her into . . . for Scott, because of Hayes's biting comments . . . and for Hayes. Mostly for Hayes. She said a prayer for him as she closed the door.

Cyd returned to the family room, where Phyllis was sitting on the sofa between Dana and Stephanie, distraught, the three of them in whispered conversation. Lindell, Scott, and Cedric were huddled off to the side.

Cedric came to her when he saw her. “You need me to do anything?”

Cyd answered with a slight shake of the head. “How's Scott?”

“He's better than I would be.” He looked over at him. “He wanted to pray for the guy. We just finished when you came in.”

Cyd was about to comment when she saw Phyllis rise and grab her things. She went to her.

“Phyl, I was thinking we could talk for a while. Maybe the women could all stay, and I'll give Dana and Stephanie a ride home.”

Dana and Stephanie were nodding, but Phyllis kept moving.

“I can't, Cyd.” She wiped a tear as the women followed her to the foyer. “I just want to be alone. I need to think or . . . I don't know. I just need to be alone.”

Cyd put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her. “Hayes said he would see you at home.”

Phyllis took her jacket, opened the door, and shut it behind her.

Seventeen

P
HYLLIS STARTED THE
car and shifted it into gear. She didn't know where she was going as she wheeled down the street. All she knew was she wasn't going home. She kept straight at the stop sign rather than turn right toward her house and continued to Wydown Boulevard. There she made a right and drove about a mile, past the stately old homes and majestic trees she always admired along this stretch, especially this time of year when the leaves were brilliant with reds and oranges and yellows. She couldn't appreciate them in the dark, but even if it were light it wouldn't have mattered. She couldn't appreciate anything beautiful right now, not with this heavy cloud hovering over her world.

When Wydown ended at Skinker Boulevard, across from Forest Park, she paused on the quiet street, pulling a tissue from her purse and wiping her nose. She often walked to Forest Park for exercise, taking different trails, enjoying the scenery and the activity of golfers, bikers, and other walkers. She needed that wide-open space right now, a space bigger than her cares. She needed to gaze into a limitless sky, just to focus on something beyond her own corner of the world, to know that this wasn't all there was. Just to breathe.

It was too late to walk in the park by herself, but she turned left and headed inside anyway. She could do her gazing from the car. She drove slowly until she came to the water basin. Hardly anyone was around, only a few parked cars and a handful of couples walking their dogs. She parked where she could see the water and sat back in the seat, Hayes's voice engulfing her.
“That's a bunch of bull . . . You're all in a cult.”

She would've been upset if he'd said it in the privacy of their home. That he'd said it in the group—that and everything else that came out of his mouth—was more than she could bear. How could he have been so rude? Didn't he know these were her friends? All that talk about treating his wife with utmost respect. What about treating
people
with basic respect? How about not rubbing Scott's nose in his affair every chance he got?

Through tears, she watched a blurred vision of a man jogging by with a big black dog. She closed her eyes and hung her head as emotion flowed at will. How could she have thought it would be a good thing to have Hayes come to the group? Why did she get her hopes up? She
knew
better. Now things were worse than they'd ever been. His
words
were worse than they'd ever been. Never mind that he had no respect for her friends. He had no respect for God. Where did he get the gumption to say that the Bible—and even Jesus—was basically nothing? Nothing but the makings of a cult.

She let the wave of tears pass and stared out at the darkened sky, a sad realization washing over her. It was true—Hayes might never believe. Might never know what it was to walk in sweet fellowship with God . . . which meant
they
might never know the blessing of marriage as God intended, where they would be one with one another and one with Him. Their love and their lives would always be missing that vital element, that Spirit-connection that comes only from above. They would live at a level that was fine for Hayes but could never be enough for Phyllis. Not when she knew there was so much more.

She was meditating on it, facing it as a very real possibility, telling herself to stop building hope upon hope that Hayes would change— when Rod popped into her mind. Her heart rate accelerated, and everything tilted.

Rod
.

Suddenly she was back in Jasper's again, at the tailgate, the old-school party. In the car. She knew she shouldn't go there, but her spirits took an upturn just thinking about going there. The images skirted the edges of her mind, shadows of the two of them talking, his profile, the way he held his head. She heard his voice now, that thickness, like a soft caress . . . and those eyes.

She took a breath and zapped herself out of the weekend . . . which only took her back to tonight and all the heartache associated with it, and thoughts of the future and all the heartache associated with that. Before she knew it, she was reaching for her purse, just to see. She swiped a tear and brought it into her lap, fumbled through it. There it was, wedged near the bottom. She opened the piece of paper and stared at his handwriting, the numbers he'd written. Then she looked at the clock on the dash. Close to nine thirty his time. Not too late. Her stomach tied in knots of warning and exhilaration as she contemplated dialing. He was that close, a few seconds away. What would he be doing? What was his evening routine? How would he receive her call?

She held the paper as a couple walked past her car. What would she even say? As she thought about it, she really didn't know him well, wouldn't know how to begin a conversation. The whole thing would be awkward. He probably thought she wouldn't actually call. She was married, after all.

A sigh released itself. Yes, she was married. She couldn't call Rod.
Shouldn't
call Rod.

And yet . . . what would it hurt? It was just a phone call. What was wrong with talking on the phone once in a while, seeing how the other was doing? That was it. She would say she was just calling to say hi, see how he was doing. Simple. No big deal.

She took her cell phone from her purse and looked at the paper again, deciding to try his landline first. With each push of a button, her finger twitched. She brought the phone to her ear and listened, her insides growing jumpier with each ring. Had she decided what she was going to say first?

“Hey, Phyl.”

His voice, soft and welcoming, was soothing to her soul. Had he called her
Phyl
before? She settled into her seat, glad caller ID had broken the ice. “Hey, Rod. Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all. What's going on? Must be a blue moon out.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“I'm, um . . .”

Sitting in my car, in a park, too upset to go home
.

“. . . on my way home from a friend's house. You crossed my mind, so I thought I'd give you a quick call. What are you up to?”

“We got home from church about an hour ago, got the baths going, did the bedtime routines. Now the girls are asleep and I was just sitting down catching a breath, about to grade some papers.” He paused. “What about you? You said you were at a friend's house?”

Phyllis sat up, trying to still herself. How could this man's voice stir such a sensation inside? “Normally I would've gone to church tonight, too, but Pastor Lyles started a special series and wanted us to meet in discussion groups to talk about it.”

“A special series? Must be deep if he's got you meeting like that to discuss it. What's it about?”

She felt awkward saying it. “This first sermon was on adultery.”