THE DOORBELL RANG Wednesday night as Cyd moved a second folding chair into position. Reese raced out of the family room toward the door, barking as if she had a fierceness to back it up. Cyd did a mental count, making sure there was enough seating for eight, and glanced at her watch. Six forty-five. The meeting was scheduled for seven.
Who’s here so ear—?
The bell sounded again, and Cyd knew. She grabbed the furniture polish and dust rag from the coffee table and carried them into the kitchen, taking her sweet time. She should have known Cedric would come early. He had called last night offering to help set up, and she told him she could handle it. Then he’d asked if he could help clean up. She assured him there wouldn’t be a need—they weren’t having a party.
She didn’t have to guess the motive behind his overtures. He wanted to be alone with her—the very thing she wanted to avoid. She couldn’t trust that he would keep his distance. Even the look in his eyes dripped seduction. She needed to be vigilant about toeing the line . . . since she wasn’t completely confident that she could trust even herself.
Reese darted back and forth between the door and Cyd, making sure Cyd understood they had a visitor. The third ring sounded as she tucked the cleaning supplies behind a cabinet door.
“Down, Reese!” The puppy had taken a running jump at her, impatient in her desire to know who was out there. Her paws moved with excitement beside Cyd as she made her way to the door and opened it. “Hi.”
“I thought I had the wrong night for a minute.” Cedric locked her in his gaze.
Cyd turned hers aside and stepped back for him to come in. “Right night, wrong time.”
Cedric walked in and pushed the door closed. “It starts at seven, right?”
Reese leaped her little body clear off the ground and tagged him on the chest.
“Whoa! You’ve got serious vertical.” He stooped down, and Reese lay on her side for a rub.
Cyd stared down at them. “Right. Seven. It’s six forty-five.”
Cedric looked up, the angle of his stare arresting. “I’m right on time, then. I wanted to talk to you before everybody got here.”
Cyd’s stomach did a little flip. “About?”
Cedric stood and took off his jacket, and her stomach did a bigger flip. It was the first time she’d seen him in a pair of jeans and short sleeves. She could tell he had a nicely built body in the slacks he’d worn. Now it was confirmed. He had well-appointed muscles, firm tone. He motioned toward the living room. “Can we sit down?”
She took his jacket and laid it over the arm of the living room chair but kept moving. “I don’t have time, Cedric. I still have some things to do before everybody gets here.”
“Can we talk afterward?”
“Now is fine,” she was quick to say. “We’ll just have to talk as I finish up.” She led the way to the kitchen.
“I’m used to seeing you in skirts and dresses. You look good in those jeans.”
She felt her face grow hot, self-conscious, as he followed behind.
“Thanks.”
They’d been thinking the same thing about each other. Leave it to Cedric to actually say it.
When they entered the kitchen, she noticed his hands. “You forgot your Bible?”
“Oh. I don’t really have a Bible. I always use the one in the pew.”
He added, “I can look off of yours, right?”
“No need. I’ve got extra Bibles.” She pulled a large jug of spring-water from the refrigerator. “What did you want to talk about?”
Cedric leaned against a counter a few feet away, and Reese flopped down at his feet. He sighed. “I wanted to apologize for Saturday night. I know things moved too fast, or . . . not like you wanted them to.”
Cyd lifted a pitcher from the drying rack by the sink. “You don’t have to apologize. I was in the moment just like you.”
“But I tried to push it, and as a result, I can tell you’ve pulled back.” He paused. “If I hadn’t done that, maybe we would’ve gone out again by now.”
Cyd stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “Cedric, that’s actually not true. I was hesitant about going out with you from the beginning, because of your girlfriend. Remember?”
She watched his head tip to a nod. “And can I just be plain?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “The girlfriend wasn’t the main reason I was hesitant. I could tell we weren’t compatible.”
He looked at her more intently. “What do you mean?”
The clock on the microwave told her she had five minutes. She began pouring the springwater into the pitcher. “You’re out here dating whoever and how-many-ever you can, even sleeping with them.”
She stopped pouring, used a dishrag to wipe up water that sloshed over the side, and resumed. “I’m not trying to be rude”—she glanced over at him—“but you brought it up, and I want you to understand where I’m coming from. If I date someone, I have to know that we both love the Lord and desire to honor Him in our relationship.”
Cedric came up beside her. “But I know you felt something when we were together.”
His voice, low and nearing a whisper, stirred a flutter. Their eyes connected, and her mind flashed to swaying with him on the dance floor . . . and kissing him. There was no doubt she was drawn to him, and if he kept staring at her like this . . .
She moved around him, pulling a large wooden tray from a lower cabinet. “Of course I felt something. You’re a handsome man, fun to be with. And you have a way on the dance floor.” She gave him a slight smile as she placed eight glasses and some coasters on the tray. “But I can’t follow feelings, Cedric. I have to let my mind lead, and my knowledge of what’s right.”
Cyd carried the pitcher and an ice bucket to the “family room,” which had been a garage before the prior owner converted it. Cedric followed with the tray in silence. When they’d set the things down on the coffee table and she’d arranged the tray, she stood and looked at him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Do you think you’d be here right now for a Bible study if we had slept together Saturday night? Or would that ‘enchanted’ feeling be gone and you would have moved on?”
He stared at her again for long seconds and looked away when the doorbell rang. Cyd let the question hang between them as she gated Reese in the kitchen and went to the door.
Cedric stood behind her as she opened it.
“Hey, you two.” Cyd hugged Dana and Scott as they entered, and Cedric shook their hands.
Dana still wasn’t herself—much more subdued than normal, without the high-wattage smile—but her eyes held a peace. Hayes and Phyllis were coming up the walk, so Cyd waited at the door to greet them too.
“Who’d you get to watch the kids?” Cyd asked, doling out hugs.
“One of your grad students.” Phyllis looked relaxed and cute in a pair of jeans and a light jacket. “Lisa. Remember, you gave us her name a few months ago?”
“We really like her,” Hayes added, shrugging off his jacket. “She’s good with the kids.”
“Oh, good,” Cyd said, taking their jackets and draping them over a chair. “She’s a good student too.”
After a few moments of light conversation, Cyd ushered everybody toward the family room.
Hayes glanced in the direction of the kitchen, where Reese was jumping frantically, trying to clear the gate. “I’ve got to greet my little friend. We bonded on Saturday.”
“I haven’t even seen the puppy yet,” Scott said.
Cyd got a kick out of watching the two men love on Reese, reaching over the gate and petting her wavy fur. As soon as they stopped and walked away, Reese was frantic again, yelping for them to return.
They settled into their seats just as the doorbell sounded again.
Cyd was glad to see Stephanie and Lindell. Though her sister would’ve rather been on an island, in the long run this study could be good for her if she let it.
“Hey, it’s my new brother.” Cyd embraced him. “How are you?”
Lindell smiled. “I’m good, sis.” He glanced at Stephanie. “And it’s good to be here.”
Cyd could tell Stephanie was still nursing an attitude. She noticed a wrapped gift in her hand. “What’s that?” She hugged her before Stephanie could answer.
“Momma told me we’d forgotten your birthday, and I felt bad. Lindell too. We got you this.” Stephanie handed it to her.
Cyd’s eyes lit up. “Really? Let me open it real quick.”
Cedric came up from behind and gave his brother and Stephanie hearty hugs.
Cyd tore the paper off and lifted the lid on a box. Inside was a gift certificate to one of her favorite restaurants. “Thank you! I love this place.”
Stephanie added her coat to the pile. “I hope you make it a romantic dinner for two.” She added, a thumb aimed at Cedric, “As long as it’s not with him.”
Cedric raised his eyes in mock offense. “Lindell, man, why are these sisters against me? I’m a nice guy.”
Lindell headed to the family room. “I’m keeping my mouth shut.”
When everyone was seated, Bibles in their laps—except for Hayes—Cyd passed out the discussion questions. They all looked at each other.
After a few moments, Cyd spoke up. “I’m hosting, but I didn’t plan to facilitate. I guess we should’ve discussed this part in advance.”
Cyd, Dana, and Phyllis exchanged quick glances, and Cyd knew they were thinking the same thing. This was the perfect venue for Scott to lead, but given all that had happened, he probably didn’t feel right stepping into that role.
Seconds ticked by. Finally Lindell sat forward. “I don’t know much about the Bible, but if all I have to do is read the questions and move the discussion forward, I guess I can handle that.”
“Thanks, Lindell,” Cyd said. “Can you start us off in prayer?”
Lindell, in a folding chair beside Stephanie’s overstuffed chair, turned to Scott with a sheepish look. “You mind, man?”
“Sure, Lindell. I’ll pray,” Scott said. He bowed his head. “Father, You are holy; You are righteous; You are God. And we thank You for the awesome privilege of coming before Your throne. We ask, Lord, that You lead our discussion and renew our minds. If we’ve been operating in our own way, teach us Your way. If we’ve been forging our own path, show us Your path. Show Yourself strong in this room tonight. We ask it in Christ’s name.”
Lindell lifted his sheet of paper and looked around. “I guess we can get started.” It was more a question than a statement. “Number one: ‘Why is marriage such an important institution?’” Lindell sat back, waiting for someone to answer.
Phyllis, on the love seat with Hayes, crossed her legs. “Hmm . . . this isn’t a quiz with one right answer, is it?” She chuckled. “I’ll say because it’s a covenant, a binding promise.”
Lindell leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, nodding. He looked at the others, waiting for follow-up.
“I love how Pastor Lyles put it.” Cyd sat straighter. “About how God performed the first marriage ceremony between Adam and Eve. I had never thought about it like that.” She added, “When you think about it, marriage is all over the Bible.”
“Well . . .” Dana paused, as if second-guessing whether she should continue. Scott reached for her hand. They sat beside one another on the sofa, with Cyd on the other end. “I think it’s interesting that God called Himself Israel’s husband. And when Israel disobeyed, He used words like unfaithful and adultery to describe it. He was truly hurt, like . . . any spouse would be.”
“I’ll tell you what blew me away.” Lindell skimmed his notes. “The part about husbands loving their wives the way Christ loves the church. I was like, ‘Whoa!’” Lindell looked around as people nodded.
When no one spoke, he said, “Okay, next question.” He sounded more assured now. “How do you view marriage?” He looked up. “Can I go first on that one?”
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.