Forgivin' Ain't Forgettin' by Mata Elliott Read Free Book Online Page A

was a present from Dunbar. At least twice a month, he’d leave a box on her desk at the church. The box was always wrapped in pretty paper and capped with a bow. Dunbar attached a card each time, the message the same:
I thank God for you
.

chapter four
    D addy, are you listening?”
    It was a struggle. Trevor was absorbed, reflecting upon the woman who’d filled his arms this afternoon. They attended the same church, but he didn’t know her. With a thousand members, there was no way you could know everyone. Mother Vale had spoken of her niece several times since he moved into the house, but Trevor couldn’t remember what she’d said her name was. Catherine. Cassandra. He was almost positive it was the second.
    Trevor decided Cassandra resembled Mother Vale. Both had the same coffee-bean coloring, rich brown eyes silhouetted by lashes short but full, and a face more oval than round. Cassandra’s face and the rest of her, if he were honest, had become a tenant in his thoughts, difficult to evict. And that was an enigma, if ever there was one. Skinny women were not his type. Brenda had been full-figured, and full was how he liked his hands to be. But Cassandra’s slim body was a perfect fit next to his.
    And all these hours later, it seemed he could still smell her sweet-scented skin, still feel her ragged breaths tapping below his collarbone where his shirt was unbuttoned, still feel her soft palms lying against his chest. He had wanted to cover her hands with his larger ones and whisper against the flow of hair shading her ear that she shouldn’t be alarmed. But what else would she be, considering the way he had barged in on her and held her longer than necessary, then gawked at her like a boy of twelve while she stood there in that little white shirt.
    He hadn’t meant to stare. Anyway, the material was thick enough that he couldn’t see anything. Not that he was trying. And Trevor had every intention of apologizing for the way he and his daughter had intruded, but Cassandra had zoomed from the room before giving him the chance.
    Brandi asked another question. “Do you want some of our food, Daddy?”
    Trevor suspended his musings to concentrate on his girls, the two of them sharing a cheesesteak and a basket of fries. He’d only ordered a soft drink for himself. “No, baby, I’m not hungry.” He wiped her mouth with one of the white restaurant napkins.
    Brandi’s naturally wide eyes stayed on him. “Do you got a tummy ache?”
    “Do you
have
a tummy ache?” he corrected with a gentle voice, and noticed that his elder child had ceased chewing, a fry doused with ketchup dangling midair as she waited for his response to her sister’s question. Brittney rarely had much to say to him anymore, but it did make him feel better to think she might harbor a pinch of interest. “No tummy ache, girls.” He smiled at them, then playfully pulled one of Brandi’s braids and rubbed a hand across the top of Brittney’s thick cornrows. The children resumed eating, and Trevor contemplated how one might express to girls this young that what ached was his heart; it was lonely, and missing their mother. Additional pain screwed through it as he watched a couple in a neighboring booth share a kiss. He hoped they knew how blessed they were.
    Trevor helped the girls discard their trash and accompanied them to the ladies’ room door. He paced outside, leery over sending his little girls into a public restroom unattended—a single father’s apprehension. Brandi exited the lavatory first, hands dripping with water. “Why didn’t you dry your hands?” he asked, his voice on edge because he hadn’t come completely down from worrying.
    Brittney, having heard the question as she came out of the bathroom, answered for her sister, “No towels,” and returned to the booth to collect the stickers the waitress gave all kids under eleven, drying her hands on the front of her shorts. Trevor grabbed a handful of napkins and gave them