Cassandra's Song. Carole Page Gift

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      She struggled to find her voice. “No. I teach a couple of piano classes here at the university. We’ve passed each other in the fine arts building or on campus.”

      “Ah, yes, that’s it. I knew I had seen you before. I would never forget such a lovely face.”

      Cassie’s cheeks grew warm with a dizzying mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. “You’re very kind, Mr. Pagliarulo.”

      “Call me Antonio, please. After all, we are colleagues.”

      “Then please call me Cassandra. Or Cassie.”

      “I prefer Cassandra. It has the lilting ring of music. Now tell me about your performance tomorrow evening.”

      Cassie groped for words. What was there about Antonio Pagliarulo that left her feeling so rattled and unsure of herself? “It’s—it’s not a big production really,” she stammered. “Just a little church cantata at—at Cornerstone Christian in La Jolla. I happened to invite your mother, but I didn’t realize…I mean, I’m sure a musician of your stature must have other obligations.”

      Antonio clasped her hand reassuringly. “Not at all, Cassandra. Mother and I reserve our Sundays for worship. We would be pleased to come hear you perform at your church tomorrow night. It would be a treat to be in the audience for a change instead of onstage.”

      “Wonderful,” said Cassie, her smile so tight she feared her teeth might break. What had she gotten herself into? She would be a basket case performing before this man. Had she somehow taken leave of her senses? Until this evening Antonio Pagliarulo had been a stranger to her; now suddenly his opinion of her mattered more than anything she could imagine.

       Chapter Four

       A ndrew Rowlands was sitting in his squeaky rocker by the bay window in his bedroom, listening to the clock strike midnight and wondering why his oldest daughter hadn’t come home yet. Usually this was his favorite place for studying the Bible and thinking and praying. And, at times like this, worrying. How could he sleep well until he knew all of his daughters were safely in for the night?

      Still, he chided himself for fretting. Cassie had gone to a concert with a man who seemed harmless enough—a mild-mannered fellow who looked like a bookish and absentminded professor. He was surely not Cassie’s type, but then, who on earth was Cassie’s type? Except for that one unfortunate incident years ago, she had never been serious about any man. And to make matters even more frustrating for Andrew, she didn’t even appear to be looking for a suitable young man. At this rate she would surely end up an old maid.

      All right, they didn’t call them that anymore. Old maids. These days there was no stigma attached to being unattached. Unmarried. Lots of young women preferred the single life.

      But that’s not what Andrew wanted for his daughters. He wouldn’t be around forever to look after his girls, and after he was gone, who would be there for them? Sure, they had one another, but they each needed a strong, capable, trustworthy man to be there when the road got tough.

      “Mandy, what are we going to do about our girls?” Andrew said aloud in a soft, husky voice. He gazed out at the full moon hanging in the dark heavens like a beacon light. That pale white globe was always comforting, reassuring. That familiar moon had remained steady and bright in the night sky, sometimes full and brimming, sometimes little more than a fingernail, but so often there through his long nights of grieving.

      It was as if God had personally given Andrew the moon and stars for his own private comfort. They were reminders that God Himself was there, never changing, always ready to console. Andrew couldn’t have made it these past five years without God’s sweet solace.

      “Lord, I’m concerned about my girls,” he said, rubbing his hands thoughtfully. “I want them to have husbands and families of their own, but they still seem perfectly content to stay here at home with me. As much as I enjoy having them around, I think it’s high time they stop fussing over me and establish their own lives and homes. What do you think, Lord? I’m right, aren’t I?” He shook his head ponderously. “But I can’t tell them to move out. It would break their hearts to think I don’t need them anymore. And to be honest, Lord, I do need them.”

      Andrew gazed off into the shadows of his room for a moment. He had prayed this prayer often in recent days, but he still didn’t have an answer to his dilemma.

      In the old days his dear Mandy always knew what to do. She was the perfect mother with just the right balance of love and discipline. He still remembered how she would check on the girls each night. Like a fragile wraith in her long white cotton nightgown, her red hair twining around her shoulders, she would flit from room to room, peeking in the door to be sure her daughters were slumbering peacefully. Andrew hadn’t realized what an arduous task and yet what a privilege mothering was until he was forced to be both mother and father.

      “Mandy, I’m doing the best I can for our daughters, but I sure miss you, sweetheart.” He sat forward and raked his fingers through his thick russet hair. “And I know the girls have suffered deeply from the loss of their mother. Cassie has thrown herself into her music career. Practices hours every day. She’s beautiful, talented and ambitious, but sometimes I think she puts all of her emotions into the piano, so she won’t feel the pain of losing you…plus that no-good scoundrel who broke her heart the year after you died. Sure, Cassie loves her music, but that won’t replace the love of a good man someday.”

      Andrew put his head in his hands. “And our darling Bree is much too serious about her counseling work. She’s always helping others and bringing home every poor, needy soul who needs a place to stay, but she refuses to allow herself a serious romantic relationship. And Frannie, our baby, has taken over the household and does the cooking and watches over me like a little mother hen. But she should be pampering a husband, not me.”

      Andrew stared up again at the star-studded sky, moisture gathering in his eyes. “You would know what to do, Mandy. You would know how to encourage and guide our daughters in matters of the heart. You would know how to set them free and shoo them out of the nest so they could create their own homes and families. Me, I’m awkward at these things. I don’t know the right words. You know me better than anyone, Mandy. You polished a lot of rough edges, but I’m still a bull in the china shop. All thumbs. Two left feet. I wish I had your sensitivity, your knack for reading our daughters’ moods and knowing what they needed even before they asked. I’ve asked God to help me, but—”

      A noise came from downstairs. Andrew paused, listening. Yes, it was the front door. Cassie was home. He got up and walked out to the landing and looked down. Cassie was standing in the foyer, stepping out of her high heels, the overhead lamplight turning her tousled mane of hair to spun gold.

      He tied the sash of his robe and padded downstairs in his leather slippers. Cassie looked up and smiled as he approached.

      “Hi, Daddy. What are you doing up at this hour?”

      “Waiting for you,” he confessed.

      “Daddy, I’m twenty-six years old. You don’t have to wait up for me anymore.”

      He grinned sheepishly. “I know. Can’t help myself.”

      Picking up her shoes, Cassie walked in her stockinged feet to the living room and sank down on the overstuffed sofa.

      “Tired?” he asked, following a step behind.

      She СКАЧАТЬ