Flee From Evil Page 6

  Vince’s steps shuffled along the carpeted floor, his hands stuffed in his pockets. A couple volunteers from classrooms greeted him on their way out. He smiled, nodded and whispered goodbyes, but his heart lay in his shoes.

  “Pastor Vince.”

  He began to hate the sound of his name and title as people called to him, wanting him to lead them here, guide them there. Pray for them. Heal them. Didn’t they know he was just a man? Didn’t they know he needed guiding, prayer, and healing too?

  “Pastor Vince.” Greta Hessing’s voice. Cass’s mom.

  He turned. Mrs. Hessing dragged Cass’s son along as the teen girl followed closely behind. Mrs. Hessing stopped short and tilted her head. “Are you okay?”

  He forced a smile all the way through his eyes. A skill his father had taught him. “’Course I am. What’s up?” He needed to be strong for his congregation so they would know God was working in his life.

  “I just wanted to introduce my grandkids to you.” She wrapped an arm around the dark-haired teen. “This is Sophie.” And patted the blond boy’s head. “This is Tibo.”

  “Tibo?” He lowered to one knee in order to be eye-level with the boy. “That’s an intriguing name.”

  “Name.” The boy smiled.

  Mrs. Hessing sighed. “It’s short for Tim-Bob.” She grimaced. “His real name is Timothy Robert, Jr. His father always liked that football player, so he thought it would be fun to call him by the same name, though they spell it differently.”

  “Well, Tibo, do you like my church?”

  Tibo’s brows furrowed as his eyes reached deep into Vince’s soul. Vince didn’t know how to respond to the wordless boy. Cass’s son.

  “Ask him to high-five,” Sophie said.

  “High-five, Tibo?” Vince held his palm in the air.

  Tibo slapped it, a proud smile gracing his features.

  “Thank you.” Vince mouthed to Sophie as he stood. “And how old are you?”

  “Fifteen.”

  That old? A shot ran through him. He didn’t dare ask her birth date. He looked at Sophie’s dark hair, then Tibo’s sandy blond. Neither donned the red curls of their mother. Suddenly, Vince wanted to know what Tim, Sr. looked like. But he couldn’t ask. “Have you gone to our youth services yet? They’re really cool.”

  “She’s a little shy, Pastor Vince.”

  “Grandma.” Sophie peered up from behind her long bangs.

  “We’re still trying to get her accustomed to all the changes.”

  “She might find the service more energetic and the sermons easier to follow than my ramblings.”

  Mrs. Hessing chuckled. “Oh believe me, Sophie follows. She could probably write a few herself. She’s a bit on the mature side.”

  “Grandma.” Sophie’s plea was more emphatic this time. Something about the girl’s expression was familiar. More than Cass’s features. Like something he’d seen a thousand times before.

  “Is that so? Well, then you really need to go to youth services. You can mentor some of our other students.”

  Sophie harrumphed. “Yeah, like that would make me a lot of friends.”

  He patted her shoulder. “I guess you’re right. Maybe you should just get to know them first.”

  ~*~

  “Is it really true you were a drug dealer?”

  “Sophie!” Grandma had that exasperated tone, but Sophie wanted to know.

  Pastor Vince only laughed. “It’s okay. It’s not a big secret.” His eyes got all serious. “Yes. It’s true. Not a time I’m particularly proud of.”

  She checked the guy out, from his wavy black hair to his leather loafers. “You don’t look like a drug dealer.”

  His blue eyes sparkled. “What’s one supposed to look like?”

  Tibo twirled and twirled beside them.

  Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know. Just not like you.”

  The man sucked in a big breath. “My supplier used to think that was an advantage.” His expression got heavy. “That I could move in richer circles because of it. People who could afford more of what I had to offer.”

  “That didn’t happen?” Something tugged at Sophie’s heart.

  The pastor shook his head. “Oh, I sold to them all right. But I don’t think I’d say I traveled in their circles any more. Once I became their dealer, I became less and less a friend.”

  She wanted to know more. “My father used to be a collector of testimonies.”

  Pastor’s eyebrows shot up. “A what?”

  Grandma corralled Tibo. “Tim always had a story about people he met who came to know Jesus in extraordinary ways. He loved to share these stories to inspire people. We called him ‘The Collector of Testimonies.’”

  “Is that so?”

  Sophie studied the funny smile encircled in a black goatee. “Yes, what’s yours?”

  “Sophie!”

  Pastor Vince held up a palm. “That’s okay, Mrs. Hessing.” He turned to Sophie. “So you plan to carry on the title?”

  Something about that idea felt warm like melted chocolate in her mouth. “I guess.”

  “I bet you have a picture of your dad in your wallet.”

  Where’d that come from? “I do.”

  “I’d love to see it. You obviously loved him very much.”

  Sophie reached into her bag, and pulled out her wallet. “This is a picture of the two of us when I was three.” It felt strange showing it to him. No one had ever asked to see it before. People mostly avoided the topic of her dead father if they could. Little did they know how much she loved to talk about him.

  His eyes narrowed as he glanced between the picture and her, as if to find a resemblance. Only there wasn’t much of one. Sophie had more of Mom’s physical qualities than Dad’s, but her mom said she made up for it in having so much of his personality and character. That always made her smile.

  “You haven’t said whether or not you’d tell me your testimony.”

  He sighed as he handed her the wallet. “Mine is a very long story, with lots of layers. Rich man. Poor man. Prison. Pastor.”

  “Will you tell me some time?” She’d give anything to know more.

  His blue eyes reached into her as his smile shortened. “I think I will.” He turned slightly. “If your mom will let me.”

  Did she hear him right? “What about my mom?”

  He rubbed his neck and shook his head. “She might not like the pastor filling your head with his sordid past.”

  “I hope Cassandra hasn’t been too standoffish with you.” Grandma’s voice held the reprimand Sophie knew was for her mother. “Don’t mind her. She just thinks I’m trying to fix you two up ’cause you’re both single. I know better than to do that with her. It usually sends her running in the other direction.” Grandma pulled Tibo into a hug. “She’s just a bit uptight right now, worrying how she’ll provide for the kids.”

  Pastor Vince’s head tilted, eyes filled with questions he didn’t ask. Sophie could almost feel the concern ooze from him. Was he like that with all his parishioners? She could understand why so many loved him.

  “Come on, Sophie. We better get going and let the pastor get back to work.”

  Chapter Seven

  Cassandra organized the forms on her mother’s dining room table. She sat before spreadsheets listing churches with special needs programs, numbers of students, types of services, sizes of congregations, median incomes, and locations. She stared at the stacks of literature each church had sent her when she called to request information. They were categorized based on method—those that used buddy systems to include the children in the regular youth services, and those that placed special needs students in a separate classroom.

  She looked at Tibo running his favorite truck along the carpet, leaving a trail as the fibers changed directions. He loved “drawing roads” that way.

  Would he be better off in a separate room with kids more like him, or included with the other students? And what about the non-special-needs child
ren? Shouldn’t they be more exposed to the ways of the developmentally challenged? Cassandra was never sure how to answer that question. Sometimes, it seemed nice for Tibo to relate with children most like him.

  She sighed, and Tibo’s gaze rose to hers. His brown eyes seemed to sink into the delicate folds of her heart. “Pway.”

  Did he know what she was thinking, or was that word just another perseveration? It didn’t matter, it was exactly what she needed to do.

  After following Tibo’s suggestion, she opened her eyes from that moment with God to find her son’s gentle smile facing her way. He went back to drawing roads. “Dugga-dugga-dugga. Beep-beep-beep.”

  “Mom, I can’t find my bathing suit.” Sophie always began her sentences before she even entered the room.

  Cassandra scanned Sophie’s fitted T-shirt and hipster shorts. When had she become a woman? Pride and fear mingled in Cassandra’s chest at the thought. Her little girl was beautiful and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. “The pink one is still hanging in the bathroom.”

  “Not that one, Mom. The royal blue.”

  Cassandra’s pulse skipped. “You mean the one with the plunging neckline that I now regret buying?”

  Sophie shifted. “Mom.”

  When did her title first take on two syllables?

  “Is this change in swim wear because you saw that boy from the home improvement store at the pool last week?”

  Sophie huffed, but didn’t answer.

  Cassandra waved her hand in the air. “I think it’s in the laundry basket in my room.”

  “I still can’t believe Sky goes to our pool.” Sophie’s eyes lit with excitement. “What are the odds of that? I’m going to ask him to church if I see him.”

  “And you need that bathing suit to do it?”

  Her smile grew mischievous. “It’s all for the cause.”

  Cassandra smirked back. “Oh, don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in your head. I was your age once.” And that’s exactly what worried her. She shot a glance to the heavens with an added prayer for protection for her daughter as she negotiated the teen years.

  Mom came out of the kitchen in her bathing suit cover-up. “You sure you can’t come with us to the pool.”

  Cassandra sighed. “I’m sure. I have to make some notes on these programs, call a couple more churches, research on the internet, and that guy who’s going to build the addition is coming at eleven.”

  “Okay, dear.”

  “Just please keep a good eye on Tibo in the water.”

  “I won’t let him out of my sight. Besides, you know Sophie’ll shadow his every move.”

  “Well, she’ll have her eye on something else at that pool, it seems.” Cassandra’s heart ached. “And I want her to be able to think of something besides caring for her brother for once. She needs a little fun.”

  “I know, honey. You need a little fun too, you know.” Mom folded a towel, and stuffed it in a bag. “I’ll take care of the kids today. Don’t worry.”

  “I know you will.” Cassandra stared at the mosaic of forms in front of her. “I need to figure out which type of program will work best for this congregation.” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe I’m doing this for Vince Steegle.”

  Her mother’s brows furrowed.

  “I mean Pastor Vince.”

  “I don’t know what you have against him. He’s a wonderful man, and preaches some of the best sermons I’ve ever heard.”

  “A little too smooth if you ask me.” Cassandra didn’t mean for her voice to be so hard. “I don’t trust anyone that smooth.”

  “Cassandra …” Her mother seemed to war with what to say … or ask.

  Please don’t put the bread crumbs I’ve dropped together, Mom. I can’t bear for you to find out.

  Mom’s features softened. “He’s a very good man. So what if he has a terrible past. It’s what made him value his present—his salvation. And he’s real good to your kids too.”

  Cassandra jolted. The last thing she needed was for Vince Steegle to become closer with more members of her family. She stared at the burgeoning young woman entering the room, now dressed in her adult-like bathing suit with those dark wavy locks and piercing blue eyes. Cassandra’s chest pounded an erratic beat.

  Next thing Mom would say was that Vince Steegle would be a wonderful father. Little did she know his usual method of fatherhood, back when she knew him, was to pay for the ending of his child’s life.

  “He knelt to speak with Tibo, and even got a high-five from him. He’s promised to tell Sophie his testimony.”

  The gasp came out before Cassandra could suppress it. Her mother stared.

  “Sophie doesn’t need to be immersed in his decadent history.”

  “She wants to be a ‘collector of testimonies.’” Mom glared. “Like her dad.”

  Cassandra gathered her hair in a sloppy bun. “Well, maybe she should start a little smaller.”

  ~*~

  Kevin pulled his Dodge truck up in front of the ranch-style home. Cassandra’s mom’s house. Why hadn’t Cassandra bought herself a fancy mansion in the more expensive neighborhoods surrounding Annapolis, with all that Whitaker pharmaceutical money? Every time someone sneezed they had to pay the Whitakers to cure it. She must have moved here for the retarded kid, so he could be with his grandma.

  The door opened as soon as he knocked. “You’re here. Great. I’ll show you the room.” Cassandra’s hair poured out of her funny-looking bun, spraying all around her face. Even frazzled she was hot.

  Expensive. That’s what Kevin needed to remind himself. All she cared about was a guy’s bottom line. So, he didn’t have the cash her usual boyfriends had. But that was about to change. And he’d be long gone before she realized her own worth had decreased in the process.

  His gaze rolled down the back of her as she led him through the hall, noticing the way her black, stretchy pants clung to her legs. What would it be like to … ? He shook his head. Focus Perkins. The money. That was what he was here for. But—

  “The addition will start right about here.” She pointed to the wall. “And attach to this bedroom.” Then she gestured to an open door.

  Kevin nodded. Whatever you say, lady.

  “Something simple.Windows on each side.” Cassandra turned and put her palms on her hips. “You can do it for the price we talked about, right?”

  “Sure.” It didn’t matter the cost, he’d drain her wallet anyhow. Not sure which way to choose. What was her greatest vulnerability? Scanning the bedroom, he stopped at the pictures next to her bed. Her little family. How cute. His lip curled. Hmmmm. Ideas were beginning to form, but maybe those were too complicated. He’d look around for a simple hit-n-run method first, but if that wasn’t possible, he knew what his hail-mary pass would be.

  “So when can you begin?”

  “I’ll have the supplies here on Wednesday morning. I can start soon after that.”

  ~*~

  Waterlogged. That’s how Sophie felt watching Tibo bounce and splash in the shallow end of the pool. The chlorinated soup swirled around her with the movement of the crowd dancing within it, swaying Sophie like a strawberry-banana smoothie whipping in a blender. She could feel the heat of the sun, baking her nose and shoulders as she tried to maintain her footing.

  Where was Sky? He said he was off work today, and planned to be here. Could she really count on the promise of a guy she barely knew?

  Sophie scanned the patches of grass surrounding the concrete walkway. Old ladies stuffed into bathing suits that should be illegal in their lack of fabric, kids chasing after friends with water guns. Mothers screaming across the water to one child dunking another. All this interrupted by short, shrill whistles from the lifeguard warning a swimmer on the brink.

  “What ya lookin’ for, Soph?” Sky’s voice had a rumble that rained warmth down her back. She turned, only to get lost in those golden brown eyes that almost matched his tan. His blond hair seemed kissed
by the sun.

  “Hi Sky.” Sophie resisted the urge to note the poetry of that phrase.

  He sat at the edge of the pool then lowered himself into the water next to her, biceps bulging as he did. Did it suddenly get colder? She shivered.

  His eyes seemed to travel the length of her, caressing her in a way she kind of liked. “You’re not even wet, yet.”

  She pointed to her brother, twirling in the water. “I’m watching Tibo.”

  His smile made her bones noodley. “You can do that wet.” A wave of water erupted as he pushed it with his large hands.

  Bracing herself against the cold, she screamed.

  He laughed.

  “Okay, you’re asking for it.” She scooped a handful of water and let him have it.

  He wrapped his strong arm around her waist and plunged her beneath the waves.

  “Aaaaa—blub-blub-blub,” was all Sophie could say until she straightened out of the deep, tugged at the front of her bathing suit to make sure all parts were covered, and sucked in a big breath.

  “You look good wet.” His full lips nudged up on one side. “I like the new bathing suit.”

  Smoothing strands of hair from her face, she made a check for Tibo.

  Sky nodded to the side. “He’s right there. Still circling.”

  The thought of all those circles made Sophie dizzy. Oh wait, it was Sky who did that to her.

  Sky swooshed through the water toward her brother. “Hey, little man.” Tibo’s grin was uncontainable as Sky lifted him and twirled him around, making giant, circular waves.

  Sophie’s breath caught as she feared Sky would throw him into the deep. But he didn’t. He seemed to sense that Tibo didn’t possess the same survival instinct as normal kids, and would more likely sink than swim. Instead, Sky pulled him up and down, plunging him, but keeping his face above the surface all the time.

  Sophie knew she beamed watching this guy, corded muscles rippling his back, as he played with her autistic brother. But she couldn’t help it. Likely, her expression resembled Happy—or Dopey—in the Disney version of Snow White as her heart swelled, and her gaze trailed his every move.