Cassandra's Song. Carole Gift Page

“And bring us an appetizer, okay? Some of those sauteed mushrooms and fried calamari. Might as well do this thing up right.” He looked over at Cassie and grinned. “Looks like I should have brought our bibs for a feast like this, right, muffin?”

      Cassie’s face reddened. “Oh, Daddy, really!”

      “Bibs?” echoed Juliana.

      Andrew grinned. “We have these big, wonderful bibs we use at home on spaghetti nights. I’m as klutzy as they come, but those bibs work wonders.”

      “Daddy, Juliana doesn’t want to hear about our bibs,” Cassie admonished.

      “Oh, but I do. What a clever idea.”

      Andrew chuckled. “You’ll have to come over for spaghetti sometime and try them out.” The words were out before he realized what he had said.

      Juliana met his gaze for a long moment, her dark eyes flashing with merriment. “I’d love to, Andrew,” she said softly, her beguiling Mona Lisa smile curling the corners of her lips. Andrew couldn’t pull his eyes away from that smile, couldn’t stop the sudden roller-coaster tickle in his stomach. Maybe he was coming down with something, the way his heart was racing and his face was feeling flushed. Had to be a fever coming on. The flu maybe. You might know. He’d probably be sick in bed on his day off tomorrow.

      Or maybe it wasn’t the flu at all. Maybe he was having an allergic reaction to…to Juliana!

      He was more than a little relieved when the waitress brought their food. As he bit into a crusty slice of garlic bread, he resolved that he would have to watch his step around this woman. She had a way of making him feel like a bumbling, tongue-tied teenager again. Why did she have to look at him that way, as if she could see through to his heart and read his very thoughts?

      “Andrew,” she said in her light, lyrical voice. “Andrew?”

      He cleared his throat and stared at her. “Yes?”

      “You were staring. I thought you were about to say something.”

      His composure shattered, he groped for a suitable answer. “Yes, you’re absolutely right, Juliana. I was about to say—”

      “You were going to ask her about her life, weren’t you, Daddy?” prompted Cassie.

      “Her life? Yes, of course.”

      “Ask her about her music,” Antonio said. “Mama is quite an accomplished performer in her own right.”

      Andrew gave Juliana an appraising glance. “Is that so? Do you sing?”

      Juliana gazed down at her plate. “From time to time.”

      Antonio reached over and squeezed his mother’s hand. “Mama is too modest. She has performed in concerts around the world.”

      “When I was young,” Juliana protested. “Rarely do I sing anymore.”

      “Why not?” prodded Andrew. “Cassie and I would love to hear you sing sometime.”

      “And I would love to hear you deliver a sermon, Andrew.”

      “Oh, he’s good at delivering sermons,” Cassie teased.

      Juliana laughed lightly. “I mean, from the pulpit. I imagine you are a very eloquent man.”

      “Eloquent? I doubt that. But I do try to help folks catch a glimpse of what God has for them in His Word.”

      “Then I will come hear you some Sunday morning. Unless there’s a better time.”

      “Actually, our church is joining with several others for a city-wide crusade in November. I’ll be preaching every evening during the week…presenting some of my favorite messages.”

      “Wonderful. Perhaps Antonio and I will come hear you.”

      An idea struck. “You could do better than that. You could come sing for us.”

      “Me? Sing for you?” A radiant glow suffused Juliana’s face. The blush of modesty had never looked so lovely. “Oh, Andrew! I couldn’t! I do not sing for large crowds anymore.”

      He retreated, feeling a discomfiting warmth around his collar. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot or embarrass you. Sometimes I blurt things out without thinking.”

      Juliana placed her slim hand over his. “Do not apologize. I am flattered. And touched by your offer. But I am not the one you should be asking. Antonio is the one who should sing for your crusade.”

      Andrew broke into a grin. “Maybe you’re right, Juliana.” He gazed across the table at Antonio. “How about it? Would you consider singing for our city-wide crusade?”

      Antonio looked over at Cassie, as if to gauge her reaction.

      Cassie beamed. “Oh, Antonio, please! We would be honored to have you sing at the crusade!”

      “I’ll check my calendar, and let you know. But I think we can work something out.”

      Andrew nodded, pleased. “And I’ll submit your name to the committee. It’s just a formality. I’m sure they’ll approve.”

      Antonio cast another searching glance at Cassie and said with a hint of merriment, “I’ll sing, Cassandra, on one condition.”

      “What’s that?” she asked with a note of caution.

      “That you accompany me on the piano.”

      Cassie sank back in her seat. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

      Antonio squeezed her hand. “Of course you can. We will do a marvelous duet together. Everyone will be enchanted.”

      Andrew’s grin deepened. He broke into silent applause. “Wonderful! Splendid! I’ll arrange everything. The two of you will make beautiful music together!”

      “Daddy!” cried Cassie in the scolding, horrified tone she reserved for her father’s worst blunders.

      “It’s just a figure of speech, muffin,” he said in his most conciliatory voice. But privately, seeing the two of them together—his darling daughter and her handsome tenor—he had a feeling this was the beginning of something more than a musical duet. God willing, it was the blossoming of a rare and beautiful relationship.