Chapter 4

Cassie

Even a baby can't stay sullen forever. I surely didn't, even though I wanted to sometimes. I got used to Brother Hudson, and his ways and his accent and his pronunciations. It took some doing, but eventually hearing him call the second book of the Bible Ex Oh Dus or Jesus' mother May Ree became natural. If anyone else had done it I'd have felt the jar of it, but when Brother Hudson did it I didn't mind, not after a while anyway. It wasn't that he changed, although he did, but that I changed somewhat. I no longer demanded that he be exactly like all my friends and family and fellow church members, which was something new for me. I was growing up and didn't know it.

I even quit flirting with him. It wasn't getting me anywhere, after all, and there were men I could flirt with and have more fun because they'd react to it. I started being really polite to him, the way I can when I want to and I'm not trying to make an impression. And to my surprise that was what got his attention.

Yirmeyah

I first noticed Cassie – I mean really noticed her – after I'd been at Hopeful for three or four months. I knew her, of course, long before then. She'd made it impossible not to know her. I'd had a couple of women throw themselves at me before. I guess I'm handsome, more or less. At least I've never caused a woman to vomit when she saw me, or turn away in disgust. And I knew Cassie was doing it. I didn't know whether she had immoral motives, or was just playing a game. I didn't really care to know, at that. I'm just not into the flirting game, whatever the motive, and treated her politely and a bit distantly. Encouraging her was the last thing I wanted to do.

And after a while she quit, as I expected she would. A flirting woman wants a reaction, and when she doesn't get it, eventually she'll go somewhere that she can get one. I didn't react, not the way Cassie wanted anyway. And she moved on.

And then I realized just what she was. Her flirtatious looks, and dresses fit to kill, had been so much in my eyes that I hadn't really seen her. In truth, Cassie Morrison was a beautiful young woman.

I'm a preacher, yes. I'm a pastor, yes. But I'm also a man, and God calls men to preach, instead of goats or crickets or something else, for a reason. He could cause the stones to cry out, but He's chosen human men, with normal male hormones. And when I really looked at Cassie, I knew I was a man. I knew I had normal male hormones. I didn't start drooling and wagging my tail. I'm a man, not a dog without a lick of good sense. But I realized that Cassie had so much going for her that if she'd only realize it, she didn't have to flirt and parade herself to get attention. I mean the first time she wore a simple sweater and skirt, and spoke to me simply as a human being, I sat up and took notice.

Do all young men react the way I did? I suppose they do. I'm not abnormal, not that I can tell. I felt a blush, and was glad that I've spent hours at a time in the fields. I was glad that I'm a preacher, because it helped me to sound normal when the last thing I felt was normal. I spoke to her as one human being to another, and went on. But as I stood behind the pulpit opening my Bible to preach that day, I couldn't help but look at her in her usual seat, there near the back of the building. For once her attention was on me as a preacher, not as a man, at least that's how it looked to me. And her face was so open, so uncomplicated by flirtatiousness, that I could cheerfully have taken it as my text.

She was a slender woman, with dark hair that she'd pulled back over her ears into a ponytail that day. I knew from seeing her other days that her hair, when she left it alone, fell below her shoulder blades. It was thick, wavy hair, and under it she had a face that, as I say, I seemed to see for the first time that day. Her eyebrows were pretty heavy, and her eyes were a startling green, like emeralds. She had a definite nose, but then I like definite noses. Her lips were slightly full, and the upper lip was long, like Liv Tyler's, though I've only seen Liv Tyler in Lord of the Rings. She had prominent high cheekbones, and slightly slanted eye sockets, so that with the green eyes she looked something like a cat. She had on that plain white sweater, which didn't flaunt her figure but couldn't hide it either, and a dark gray skirt that I remembered from before the service would brush the floor when she walked.

She sat there between her parents – she was an only child, as I am – looking as serene and attentive as one of God's handmaidens. And because of that simplicity she was more beautiful that day than she'd ever been.

I looked down at my Bible, turning pages. I'd taken a text that morning from the Song of Solomon. I put that together with my reaction to Cassie, and felt my face go warm again. My thoughts about Cassie were pure, and my intentions with the text were pure, but the two together were a strong combination. Along with presenting a vivid picture of God's love for His people, the Song of Solomon is equally vivid in portraying the love that ought to exist between a husband and wife. And Solomon didn't spare the horses either. Both he and his Shulammite bride are pretty graphic in addressing each other. You know they adored each other – physically as well as emotionally and intellectually and spiritually.

But God had given me that text, I was sure, and that sermon. I could either preach it and trust God to guide my mouth aright, or I could give in to my embarrassment and change my message to suit my emotions. I may be a poor preacher in some ways. I know that when I get going I flail around and my English goes Texas on me. I know that I can sometimes cover the width of the building when I get excited, and even advance a pew or two into the congregation. But there's one thing that I've always tried to do, and that's be an honest preacher. When I believe God's put a thing on my heart to say, I say it – even when I'd rather lie down with fire ants.

So I preached that sermon, and tried to keep my mind on what God had given me to say. And for the first time it seemed like Cassie was listening to the sermon, and not to me. I'd always had the sense that she was critiquing my style rather than absorbing my teaching. There are people like that in many churches. All you can do is the best you can, and let God deal with them in His way. You can't ever please them, no matter what you do, so you'd as well not bother trying. You just have to preach the Word, and leave the results to the Holy Spirit.