Faithful (26 page)

Cyd rolled her eyes over to her sister. “Steph, were you tuned in on Sunday? The pastor laid it all out—the purpose of sex, the holiness of God, our bodies as holy temples . . .”

“Yeah, I heard him, just like I heard Jessica—who, by the way, wouldn't have been saying all that if she hadn't gotten pregnant. I just don't see how the writings of some white men halfway around the world, two thousand some-odd years ago, should influence how I'm living today.”

Lindell looked confused. “I thought they were Jewish.”

“Whatever.”

Dana's voice drifted in. “So, Stephanie . . . just askin' . . . Are you saying you don't see how the Bible applies to your life?”

Stephanie smoothed her jeans. “Pretty much.”

“And you're serious?” Cyd stared at her sister.

Dana tossed Cyd a look. “Steph, we should talk. This is so much bigger than the sex issue.” Dana paused. “I know you've been around the Bible your whole life, but it's so awesome when you actually connect with it.”

Stephanie gazed aside.

Scott leaned forward. “What about a mentor situation, like the one Lindell and I are starting? Maybe you and Dana could meet once a week as well.” He caught Stephanie's dubious expression. “You don't have to make a lengthy commitment,” he added.

Stephanie's eyes bounced from Dana to Cyd. “I don't know. I wouldn't be able to sneeze without Dana telling Cyd about it.”

“Everything would be held in strictest confidence,” Dana said. “You've always been like a little sister to me anyway.” She smiled. “Except I think we've always gotten along a little better than you and Cyd.”

Stephanie glanced at Cyd. “True.”

Cyd rolled her eyes. “Don't get me started. Dana can have you.”

The laughter from the ladies lightened the moment.

Lindell patted Stephanie's knee. “Try it, babe. One time. If you think it's a waste of time, you can just quit.”

She half frowned at him. “That's a given.”

Lindell tried again. “Okay. Consider it a wedding gift to me. I don't know why, but I'm really pumped about this. I think it's just what we need.”

“All right,” Stephanie said, though it was mostly a sigh. “I'll meet once and see what happens.”

“Cool!” Dana came over and hugged her. “I'm excited. We get to hang out together.”

Scott hugged her, too, then Lindell stood and he and Scott clasped hands and pulled one another into a hug.

“Well,” Lindell said, grabbing his paper, “we've discussed one question off the entire list.”

“And yet I think we accomplished a lot,” Scott said. He took a look at the rest of the questions. “I think we'll address these in a different way, through the mentoring.”

Lindell seemed satisfied. “Okay.” He turned to Cedric. “You want to join us, Ced? I don't think Scott would mind.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott said. “I'd love to have you join us, Cedric.

With our schedules we have to be flexible, but right now we're planning to meet Tuesdays for lunch.”

Cedric stood and slipped his hands in his pockets. “That wouldn't really work for me—”

“Ced, don't you pretty much make your own schedule?” Lindell asked.

“Nah . . . I wish. It's hard for me to make a weekly commitment like that. Appreciate it, though.”

Cyd took note of Cedric's response, not at all surprised.

The group proceeded slowly to the door and found their coats.

Scott and Dana said their good-byes and filed out, with Lindell and Stephanie behind. When they were gone, Cyd turned to Cedric, who was hanging back. He hadn't put on his jacket yet.

“I was just thinking,” he said, stepping toward her.

Cyd felt her heart skip. She'd been fine all evening. It helped that Cedric had arrived after Scott and Dana, and he'd been so quiet that it had been easy to focus her attention away from him. Had he left with the rest, the evening would've been a success. And this was their last group meeting, so she'd be free and clear of him after tonight.

She waited, but he was only staring at her with his arms folded.

“Yes?” she said.

“I was thinking that a spiritual mentor might not be a bad idea.”

Stop looking at me like that
.

“But,” he continued, “I'd like
you
to be my mentor.”

She closed the front door and started toward the kitchen. Reese had been quiet the entire meeting, probably asleep, but now she was barking at the gate, frantic to get out. Perfect distraction. She looked over her shoulder as she walked.

“Uh . . . no.”

Cedric followed her. “Why not?”

She stepped over the gate and found Reese's leash. “Cedric, you're not interested in being mentored. If you were, you would've agreed to meet with Scott and Lindell.”

“Lindell wants Scott to mentor him because he feels a connection to him. You're the one I feel a connection to.”

Cyd flipped him a look as she led Reese to the back door. “I think you're talking about two different kinds of connections.”

“I'll give you that,” he said, following them out. “But the point is, I could get up for that—meeting with you, learning from you. Isn't that a good thing?”

The air was brisk, and Cyd hadn't stopped to put her jacket on. She shivered as she waited for Reese to take care of business. “Actually, no,” she replied. “It's not a good thing, especially since you've already said you want to make love to me, and Stephanie already warned me you'll do whatever you can to get what you want. This must be new for you, though—working a spiritual angle.”

He came closer. “You already made it clear you're not interested in me. I'd respect that.” He leaned his head in until she looked at him. “Or maybe you're thinking you can't trust yourself around me.”

His nearness sent a different kind of shiver through her. Why did he have that effect on her?

“That's not the problem.”

“Then what's the problem? I'm saying I want to be mentored. There's a lot I don't know. I'm asking you to help me.”

Reese was done, and Cyd brought her back into the house, shooting up a prayer.

Lord, I know he's playing games, and I'm thinking it wouldn't be wise for me to do this . . . and yet I want to acknowledge You. Could You have a plan in this? What should I do
?

Cyd led Reese and Cedric to the front door, waiting for direction. When the words came, she held them a moment, surprised. Then she spoke them. “We can meet one time. Saturday morning, eight o'clock.”

Cedric looked at her like she had flipped her lid. “Eight o'clock?

I sleep in on Saturday mornings. I was thinking we could meet over dinner.”

“That's when I can do it, Cedric.”

He blew out a sigh. “I guess that'll have to be when we do it, then.”

She opened the door for him. “I'll call you before Saturday to let you know the place.”

“Aren't we meeting here?”

She smiled. “Nope. Someplace else. Someplace public.”

“Oh. Okay.” He lifted his jacket from the chair and slowly put it on.

As he made his exit, Cyd said, “And, Cedric?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“As a gift, I'll buy you a Bible for our meeting.”

He went out the door. “Okay. That, uh, sounds good.”

She closed the door and watched Cedric through the window as he walked to his car. One question consumed her. Would God really use her in his life?

Twenty

P
HYLLIS STARED AT
the computer screen. Dressed in capri pajama bottoms and a short-sleeved tee, she would normally be in bed right now, and in fact she had been. She and Hayes had turned out the lights at eleven, but as he drifted into a soft snore, she had lain there wide awake, depressed by her thoughts. It had been this way every night for a week.

Nights were definitely the worst.

Almost every other part of the day was filled with activity. In the mornings she hopped from cooking breakfast to a battle with at least one son about what he'd wear to school, to a battle with the youngest about lying, since he liked to say he'd washed his face when he hadn't, to last-minute searches for homework. Once the boys were off to school, she was busy with Ella, playing with the little girl as she toddled from one thing to the next, reading to her, taking her for walks in the stroller.

At Ella's naptime, Phyllis was still moving, exercising on the elliptical machine in the basement, cleaning the house, doing laundry, starting dinner. When the boys returned, there was nonstop action until they said good night, and even then Phyllis couldn't rest until the kitchen was in the order she liked. She ran a mop across the floor almost every evening.

That was life as usual and she loved it, but she also loved two other distinct times of day—her early morning quiet time and the nighttime climb into bed, when all the voices and commotion and responsibilities were suddenly silenced. That was when she could think on the day and lull herself to sleep with thank-yous to God for small victories and blessings.

But these last seven mornings and evenings had been different. Now when the alarm buzzed at five thirty, she wondered why she'd set it. The internal push to get up, the desire to snag precious moments with God, had waned. Instead she felt a sluggishness that asked why she was sacrificing sleep for the sake of a few prayers, prayers that for years had featured Hayes at the top of the list. Prayers that had yielded nothing but disappointment. Better to sleep than to drown in the quiet of the morning, pondering disappointment. Which is what the nights had also been about.

Tonight a single thought kept circling in her head: that the two relationships she valued most—God and Hayes—were the two causing her the greatest heartache. It was nothing new with Hayes. But in the past, the joy in her relationship with God would offset the pain with Hayes. Now she couldn't find her way to that joy with the Lord. What joy was there in knowing He could change Hayes's heart but had chosen instead to let it grow harder? Now she had no joy in either relationship, and the reality of it saddened her.

She thought about Cyd and Dana, too, how even her relationship with them was feeling strained. She knew why. They wanted to draw her out, see how she was feeling. But she didn't want to share her true thoughts. They wouldn't understand that she didn't want to be encouraged, that she was through with getting her hopes up. Had she gone to the meeting tonight, it would have been more of the same. She loved them like sisters, but on this one she would have to go it alone.

Well, almost alone. There was Rod. When her mind glimpsed him, a pinpoint of light shone through her thoughts. He was the one person in her life who could help, though not directly. She wouldn't discuss her marital problems with him. He could simply be an oasis, someone who could take her mind off her troubles, be a friend during one of the most difficult times of her life.

That was why she got out of bed, to travel to her oasis. She had gone down to the office, stopping first in the kitchen to get the note with Rod's e-mail address from her purse. She was in the office chair now, at the family's desktop computer.

Phyllis clicked open the e-mail window, clicked the New Message button, input Rod's e-mail address, and paused at the subject line. What to say? She typed
Hello
, then backspaced to delete it. She cocked her head. Maybe
Hi
. Or
Hey
. The message needed to come across just right, like it wasn't a big deal. Just a quick hello to let him know she was thinking about him—though she wouldn't
say
she was thinking about him. That would be too much, like she was up late at night with him on her mind—which she was—but she couldn't let him know that. They were friends. Nothing more.

She sighed at all her mental maneuverings and typed
hello
again, this time with a lowercase
h
. Somehow that made the difference.

She tabbed to the body of the e-mail and lingered there, too, trying lines, deleting them. Finally she was staring at these words:

Good evening, Rod,
Or maybe it's “Good morning,” depending on when you get this.
I didn't have anything earth-shattering to say. Just hello. Hope all
is well.
Sincerely,
Phyllis

It didn't say much, but it said a lot. He'd know she cared about staying in touch. She proofed it once more and clicked Send. It was on its way.

There was no way Phyllis could go to bed now, too much nervous energy. She opened Internet Explorer and watched her home page unfold the headlines of the day. She skimmed through a couple of stories, then followed the link to the fitness page and perused exercise and nutrition tips. By the time she'd finished an article on the healthiest fish to eat, it was past midnight and she knew the only reason she was up was to see a message pop in from Rod—and he'd probably been asleep for hours. She hung around cyberspace another few minutes, finally turning off the computer at twelve thirty.

The next morning she awoke with a start at six, but instead of heading to a comfy chair for quiet time, she headed straight for the office. Anticipation fluttered as she turned on the computer and waited for it to power up. When the screen allowed, she opened the e-mail program and watched as the new message indicator lit up:
Receiving 1 of 3 messages.

Message one appeared, an ad about pay-per-view movies from her cable company. She sighed and waited for message two.

Why is this computer so slow?

Stacy Summers with the subject line
Happy Thursday!
Stacy often sent short messages like
Hope you're having a blessed week!
or
Thinking about you. Hope all is well!

Phyllis bypassed it and waited for the third. When it downloaded, she felt a thud of disappointment. Spam about Viagra.