Faithful (28 page)

Shaking again, Dana broke free and moved into the bedroom. She swiped some tears with the back of her hand and headed for the door.

Scott grabbed her hand and pulled her back. More forcefully this time, he said, “Dana, we have to talk.”

He walked her to the bed and, practically numb, she followed. But she refused to sit as he did. She folded her arms and looked away.

“I have no idea how you got Heather's number or how you happened to call when I was with her, but let me tell you why I was there.” He anchored his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands. “For the last couple of weeks, Heather's been calling me every day, several times a day, leaving these long voice mails.”

She glowered at him. “You never told me about that.”

He threw up his hands. “I was trying to ignore her and move on. Why would I want to talk to you about her?”

Dana rolled her stare back to the distance.

“Then she started e-mailing me at work every day, and I wouldn't reply. I'd just delete them. Seemed like her messages were getting more and more insane, calling me ‘love' and acting like we were going to pick back up where we left off. We never called each other names like that, and I made it clear it was over.”

Dana stared downward now, listening more intently.

“I get to work this morning, and she's sent another e-mail asking me to meet her for lunch. I ignored that one, too, and had to run to a meeting. When I got back to my office, I found out she had come up to my job! She actually came into my building and said she needed to see me. They said I wasn't available, and she said to tell me she'd see me at lunch.”

Scott shook his head. “I said, ‘This is it. I've got to tell this woman I'm sorry things went where they did between us, but she has to stay away from me. Period.'”

Tears slid down Dana's cheeks again. She should've trusted God to handle it. God
was
handling it.

“I was only there for five minutes, long enough to tell her what I had to tell her, when the phone rang. She was upset and accusing me of using her and throwing her aside. But her whole tone changed on the phone, and when she said it was you, I thought she was playing games—especially when she gave it to me and I didn't hear anything. I tried to call and you didn't answer, so I came home. As soon as I walked in here”—he looked at the shambles she'd made of the room— “I knew it really was you.”

He took her hand and pulled her down beside him. “What happened? What made you call her?”

Dana bit the inside of her lip. “I . . . I read her e-mail about lunch today.”

Scott showed his surprise. “How did you get into my account?”

Dana gave him a look.

“Okay, it was easy to figure out. Wow. How did you get her number?”

“Stephanie.”

“You weren't messing around, were you?” Scott's tone was free of accusation. He wove his fingers with hers. “If I hadn't violated your trust, you wouldn't have felt you had to do all of that.” He sighed. “I should've told you she was contacting me, but I just didn't want to talk about her. I was kind of working it out between me and God.”

“I guess . . .” Dana stared at their fingers. With all she'd done, she might as well bare her soul. “I guess part of the problem is I was jealous of her. I thought it would be easy for her to step back into your life because she's so pretty. And she's got the body . . . and the hair.”

“Baby, are you kidding?” Scott stood and brought her up with him. “Come here,” he said softly.

He led her into the bathroom and stood behind her as they faced the mirror. “I'm glad you cut your hair, because it showcased this.”

She turned and looked up at him. “What?”

“Your face. With short hair, the shape of your big, beautiful eyes stands out, your smooth complexion, everything. And the cut gives you a carefree look, like you're confident in who you are. I love that.” He brought his arms around her waist and grazed her cheek with his.

“And I love every inch of your body. Every curve was made for me. And what I love especially is how it changes with the seasons, from young woman to mother, and eventually to middle age and older, because it's a reflection of God's goodness and grace in holding us together through those seasons.”

He turned her around. “You and me, Dana. That's it. That's all I want.” Scott kissed her, softly at first, more passionately by the second.

Dana brought her arms around his back and savored the moment. They hadn't been this close—she hadn't been this aroused—since before the affair. Most of her wanted to make love to her husband, but one part cried out still that it wasn't ready. It couldn't yet erase that image of Scott and Heather lost in one another's arms. It made her sick still to think about it, and at their first counseling session yesterday, the assistant pastor had told her to take as much time as she needed. She felt torn as Scott slowed the kiss and groaned, an eye on his watch.

“I've got to get back for a meeting, sweetheart. I hate to leave you like this.”

Her heart settled down.

Thank You, God
.

“It's okay. I'm so glad you came home.” She kissed him again. “I love you.”

He traced a finger across her brow. “I love you too.” He took her hand and together they walked out of the bathroom. “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“I've got a little time before the kids get out of school.” She scooped up one of Scott's shoes from the floor and gave him a sheepish smile. “Guess I need to do some picking up.”

He headed toward the bedroom door. “You mean I don't have to move out?”

“Not unless I'm moving with you.”

Scott blew her a kiss and bounded down the stairs.

Dana got on her knees and bowed, face to the ground, thanking God. Because in the midst of the most painful trial of her life—even when she hadn't sought Him and even when her prayer life hadn't been what it should—He had been faithful. And because, though she wouldn't have thought it possible, never had she felt as much love and appreciation for her husband as she did in that very moment.

Twenty-two

C
EDRIC PULLED INTO
the parking lot of the Missouri Botanical Garden at seven fifty, a grande latte sprinkled with chocolate, nutmeg, and cinnamon at his lips. He needed the jolt. When his alarm sounded at seven, he remembered why he'd set it and his mind kicked into gear, but his tired body lagged behind.

It didn't help that Tamia had tried her best to get him to stay in bed. She knew where he was going and whom he was meeting, and she had no grounds to be upset. But it didn't stop her from trying to change his mind. It almost worked, but when Cedric weighed what he'd be giving up against the immediate pleasure of Tamia, the two didn't compare. There was nowhere else he'd rather be this morning.

But that was what bugged him. He didn't know why he had such a desire to be here. He had asked to be mentored only as a way to be alone with Cyd, something he'd wanted to do since the night they celebrated her birthday. With some quality time, he was sure he could persuade her that what they felt was worth pursuing. He wasn't used to being turned down.

But this setting and the hour—not to mention talk of buying a Bible—had killed his vision of their time together. So why was he looking forward to it still? What
was
it about this woman? She had laid down the terms of their meeting, terms unfavorable to him, and here he was, couldn't wait to get here. He felt drawn to her in a way he couldn't explain, like he truly wanted to get to know her—something else he wasn't used to.

He saw Cyd's car on the left side of the lot and drove over, parking beside her. He was surprised by the number of cars here already. He'd heard the Garden was a popular place for morning walks, but he couldn't remember when he'd been here last. Had to have been years, back when a buddy got him to go on a double date to one of the summer evening jazz concerts.

Cedric hopped out and left his jacket in the convertible. With the sun shining and the temperature mild this first Saturday in November, his jogging suit was all he needed. He strode to the glass doors, chucked his empty coffee cup into the wastebasket, and once inside, paid the fee of a couple of dollars. The woman handed him a ticket and a map of the Garden, and he headed upstairs to the café.

He saw Cyd right away at a table for two, next to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the gardens. She had her back to him, her head buried in a book.

He got that weird feeling again, the one he'd gotten since the first time he met her, the feeling that he couldn't wait to be near her. She had her hair pulled back, and he almost chuckled to himself. He'd told her she looked sexy with her hair down. When he told Tamia the same, she'd made a point of wearing her hair down whenever he saw her. Not Cyd. If she cared at all what Cedric thought, there was no way to know it. He was starting to love that ponytail, though. It was one more thing that made Cyd uniquely Cyd.

He came up behind her and saw that the book she was reading was the Bible. He leaned down to her ear. “Good morning.”

She looked up and smiled as he took the seat across from her. “Good morning. How are you?”

He held her gaze. She wore a jogging suit as well, navy blue with lime green stripes down the sides. Far as he could tell, she wore no makeup, and she still looked beautiful. “I'm good. How about you?”

“Real good,” she said. Her gaze didn't falter, but her smile took a playful turn. “I'm proud of you for getting up and out so early this morning.”

He shifted to a more comfortable position. “Did you doubt I'd make it?”

She shrugged slightly, mostly with her head, and lifted her coffee mug. Peering over the top, she said, “Nothing would surprise me with you, Cedric.” She took a sip.

He decided he didn't need to know what she meant by that. He leaned back in his seat. “So what'd you do last night?”

“Nothing special.” She took another sip. “I did some reading for my Greek lit class. How about you?”

“Not much. I was home.” He felt strangely secretive. He didn't mind Tamia knowing he was here with Cyd, but he didn't want Cyd to know he'd spent the night with Tamia.

Cyd pushed a small plate over to him. “I took a chance you might like a banana muffin. I got orange juice, too, but you'll have to get your own coffee. I didn't want it to get cold.”

“I love banana muffins.” He was taken by her thoughtfulness. “Thank you. And orange juice is perfect. I just had a latte on the way over.”

“Well, shall we get started?”

Cedric wondered what would come next. “I'm ready if you are.”

“Why don't we pray first.”

Cyd extended her hands and Cedric took hold, closing his eyes. He couldn't resist running a finger across the back of her hand.

“Lord God,” Cyd began, “bless our time together this morning. I'm praying that You mentor us both. Lead us where You want to lead us and teach us what You want to teach us. Give us hearts that are willing to listen and follow. In Jesus' name. Amen.”

Cyd eased her hands from Cedric's and reached into a messenger bag beside her chair. “I had a hard time deciding which Bible to get you,” she said, “but I ended up getting one like mine.” She smiled before she produced it. “And no, mine isn't a women's devotional Bible.”

She handed him a big leather Bible. When he took it, he flipped through the pages out of courtesy, to look interested, but was surprised when his insides fluttered with anticipation. He'd never had his own personal Bible.

“Turn to the front. I wrote a little note.”

Cedric did and saw handwriting on the first page. It read,
To Cedric, This book changed my life. I pray it does the same for you. Cyd
.

He stared down at the page, her words drawing him in. His life needed to change. That's what she was saying. Was she talking about the sex, or was this deeper? His gut said it was deeper, and the meeting took a mysterious turn. It seemed suddenly that she knew more than he did about his own life, at least about where it stood. He wanted to know what she knew.

“Cedric, I'm not sure where to start. When you said you wanted to be mentored, you said there was a lot you didn't know. Did you have something specific in mind that you wanted to talk about?”

Cedric looked at the Bible again, at Cyd's words. He cleared his throat. “When I said I wanted to be mentored . . .” He looked up now. “I did have something specific in mind—spending time with you, just like you thought.”

Cyd arched her brows, but her eyes were smiling.

“But it's true. I'm starting to see there's a lot I don't really know.”

Cyd allowed Cedric to hold her gaze. “There's a lot I don't know either, Cedric.” She sounded sincere.

He gave a slight chuckle. “I think I've got you beat. I'm looking at this Bible and realizing I barely know anything about it, just a few stories I've heard on Sunday.”

“Okay, well . . . tell me this.” Cyd looked deep into his eyes. “What do you know about Jesus?”

Cedric felt as if the answer should be obvious, but he was drawing a blank. “Jesus. I mean . . . He's Jesus. I'm not sure what you want me to say.”

“I'm honestly not trying to make it difficult, Cedric. This just helps me to know where we should start.”

Cedric reflected on the question. “This is basically what I know about Jesus. He was a great man, a prophet. Had a lot of wisdom, did a lot of miracles. Died on a cross.”

“Okay,” Cyd said, nodding. “That's all true. There's just a lot more
really
good stuff, but that's why we're here.”

Cyd smiled and her tone was light, and it struck Cedric that he wasn't used to this kind of vibe between them. She was normally guarded or short with him, admittedly because she wasn't trying to go where he was leading her. Now she was relaxed. She seemed to care.