Chapter 7
Camille sat curled in the corner of a white sectional in her Bel Air home, the white fluffy robe wrapped tight around her frame.
The house had been carefully chosen. For someone like her—not close to her parents, with no siblings and few true friends—it was the perfect retreat.
A secluded, modern Mediterranean house at the end of a winding gated drive, shielded from the world by towering hedges, old oaks, and high security walls.
She sat contemplating if she should attend church that morning. She was still such a new believer. Her church was in the Valley and she attended occasionally, but excuses about work had often kept her away.
Since joining the Esther set, however, she had none.
Aaron refused to film on Sundays, extending an open invitation to the cast and crew who didn’t have a home church, to accompany him to his and then join him for Sunday lunch.
She had always declined with the excuse that she had a home church but she didn’t really consider the church she attended home.
It wasn’t that she disliked it. The people were warm, welcoming. The worship music was excellent. She’d begun attending after an invitation from a crew member on Shadow Peak—someone who had met her at her lowest point and introduced her to Christ. For that, she would always be grateful.
But she often left feeling… hungry. The sermons lacked depth.
The pastor would open the Bible briefly, select a verse, then spend the next hour speaking about human needs, potential, and self-improvement.
She longed for something richer. She wanted to understand God—His nature, Christ’s finished work, the glory of salvation that pointed upward, not inward.
Perhaps she should try Aaron’s church. She’d overheard crew members talking about it—how skeptical they’d been at first, how surprised they were by the simplicity. No smoke, no spectacle. Just the gospel.
She glanced at her watch. There was still time. She could dress and make the fifteen-minute drive.
As she stood, her phone chimed.
She glanced at it.
Simon.
Why wouldn’t he stop?
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. He could message all he wanted. She didn’t have to answer. She didn’t even have to read it. Yet as she began to dress, her eyes went back to the phone.
What did he want?
She slipped into a pistachio-green silk jersey dress, the long chiffon sleeves floating softly as she moved. The bodice skimmed her curves, the skirt falling in an elegant line. It was understated, feminine—gentle.
As she applied light makeup, Simon crept back into her thoughts. He had been her boss. The producer of her show. Eleven years older. Wise. Worldly. Always dispensing advice—guidance she hadn’t even realized she was craving.
She had welcomed his leadership.
It had been around the time she fired her father as her accountant. Around the time her parents separated. With Carlo gone, it had felt good to lean on someone steady.
Until he wasn’t gently leading anymore. Until he was pushing her to do things she didn’t want to do. Until he was bullying her to have his way and threatening if that didn’t work.
She glanced at the phone as she combed back her hair.
She slipped on her bangle, then reached for her phone and unlocked the message.
Camille, the season has collapsed without you. I’m begging you—come back. Nobody can fill the space you left. You’re irreplaceable. Aradia was magnificent because of you. I will increase your salary to $2 million per episode. I miss you, Camille. I want you back.
Her throat tightened.
Memories rushed in uninvited—the first meeting, the first kiss, the first date. The love she had believed in. The betrayal that followed.
I miss you, Camille. I want you back.
Tears burned.
“Lord,” she whispered, “I don’t need this. I don’t want it.”
She stayed there a moment, then wiped her eyes, blew her nose, steadied herself. When she finished her makeup and smoothed her hair, the ache had dulled.
She grabbed her bag and keys.
She was going to church.
Aaron’s church.
~*~*~*~
Aaron greeted another crew member, Mike, with a smile and a quick bro hug, his eyes flicking instinctively up the aisle where Madison played with two other children.
Satisfied that she was fine, he and Mike chatted for a couple minutes before Mike found a seat next to Carl, another member of the crew. Carl was also a good friend. For Aaron he was a go-to camera man. They had worked together on every one of his films.
There were about eight members of the cast and crew there that Sunday if you counted himself.
It varied from Sunday to Sunday. Sometimes it was a few more or a few less.
Regardless, he was grateful to God for allowing him to use his influence with the crew to evangelize in this way.
He didn’t think the offer of a big buffet lunch at his house immediately after hurt either and again he thanked God that he had the means to do that.
He turned to return to his seat—
—and froze.
For a moment, he thought he was mistaken.
Camille stood near the aisle, a vision in green.
She looked beautiful. Feminine. The dress was modest—long sleeves, calf-length hem—but nothing about it was dull. It skimmed her figure gracefully, elegant and refined. When she met his eyes, she hesitated, then smiled—soft, almost shy.
She walked straight toward him. “Good morning.”
“I didn’t expect to see you,” he said honestly. “I thought you had a home church.”
“I do,” she replied lightly. “But I like to visit others sometimes. See how other people do things.”
He smiled. “Well, I hope our style suits you.”
“Do you mind if I sit next to you?”
Did he mind? Not at all.
He stepped into the aisle. “Please.”
“I should warn you,” he added as they sat, “my daughter Madison will be joining us. She doesn’t sit still.”
“Your daughter,” she started searching the room with her eyes. “Let me guess, she’s the one over there in the pink and white dress.”
Aaron realized she was speaking about a little girl with black hair who looked to be about 4, Madison’s age.
He grinned. “No, she might look like she’s my kid but she’s not.” He pointed. “That’s Madison. The one with the blond curls in the yellow dress.”
“You mean gold dress.”
“No, I mean yellow.”
“Oh my! She’s gorgeous!”
“Yeah. She is the spitting image of her mother.”
“Your late wife,” Camille said softly.
“Yes,” he said. Not willing to talk about what happened to Scarlette, he quickly changed the subject. “So what do you like most about your church?”
She answered thoughtfully. “A few things. It’s very near to home, like five minutes away. I have built up a friend group there and they have accepted me without judgment.”
What she didn’t like followed just as easily—the busyness, the performances, the lack of depth.
“This is a performance-oriented town,” he said. “Not surprising.”
She laughed. “Fair point.”
The pastor, Gerard Garfield, approached. He was warm and welcoming. After introductions, the service began.
Right on cue Madison came back to their seat. She looked surprised to see Camille. She spoke softly and then sat on Aaron’s lap which was something she didn’t often do but it seemed that she was marking her territory. Or maybe she was being shy. He wasn’t sure if it was either or both.
Camille leaned towards Madison, and Aaron got a whiff of her perfume, something flowery.
It seemed to fill all of his senses. He glanced at her face.
It was hard to reconcile this beautiful woman who had sat in the car with him last night sharing the challenges with being a child actor with the woman who had been all over the press a year ago embroiled in a scandalous love affair with her married producer.
Was the woman a Jekyll and Hyde perhaps?
Or maybe this was actually evidence of the transforming power of the Holy Spirit.
“Hi, I’m Camille. What’s your name?”
“Madison.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Madison. And I must say, that’s a beautiful dress you’re wearing. Did you choose it yourself?”
Madison’s face lit up. “Yes. It’s my favorite color.”
“Oh?” Camille tilted her head, her tone warm and curious. “Is gold your favorite color?”
“Yellow.”
Aaron let out a quiet chuckle.
Camille glanced at him briefly, then returned her full attention to Madison, her expression kind. “You know most people call it gold. You chose very well.”
Madison nodded, pleased. “Thank you.”
The service began then, and their conversation faded. But Aaron couldn’t help noticing the ease of it—the way Camille had listened and then affirmed the little girl’s choice while not agreeing with her that the dress was yellow. Perhaps he should take a lesson from that.
Before long, Madison relaxed against Camille, inch by inch, until she curled into Camille’s side and eventually fell asleep in her lap.
Aaron tried to move her.
Camille stopped him. “Let her rest.”
After the service ended Aaron turned to her. “So how did we rate?”
She laughed lightly.
“Quite highly.”
“Really? I thought we would bore you. There’s not a lot of focus on pyrotechnics here. It’s quite simple.”
“I appreciate the simplicity. The church I usually attend is a little over the top. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that it’s like a concert.”
He nodded.
“That’s why I started coming here. I just liked the style of things. The fact that everything is so God-centered. You know. It’s wonderful. It fills my soul.”
She angled her body towards him and he was surprised to see the excitement in her eyes.
“That’s what I appreciated. God’s truth was evident in every area.
The prayers, the reading of the word, the music, deep, rich with truth and meaning, and then the sermon.
The way your pastor explained everything so clearly and provided such context and application and insight. I love it.”
“Love it enough to return next week?” he asked, before thinking.
He immediately wondered if that was wise.
Camille had sat next to him through the entire service.
Madison clearly liked her. it was unlikely that if she returned she would sit elsewhere and after church she might also turn up at his house for lunch.
Which meant that this could be a pattern.
This could become problematic. Camille was not just a work colleague she was a woman whom he felt an attraction to and he sensed that she might feel the same way.
It meant that if they weren’t both careful things could escalate between them.
Working all week, bible study after hours midweek, hanging out on Sundays.
It would be hard to distance himself emotionally with such steady contact.
Before she could answer, a few congregants gathered to greet Camille. She was gracious and warm. Madison ran off to play.
He excused himself to greet a few men from the church.
He was mid-conversation with them when Camille approached.
“Well, see you on Monday,” she said.
Aaron nodded, but as she turned to leave, Carl—standing beside him—called out, “We’re heading over to Aaron’s place for lunch. Are you coming?”
Aaron forgot how to breathe.
Camille paused, glancing back at Aaron, a question in her eyes.
He forced a smile.
“You’re welcome to come.”
She hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“It’s not an intrusion,” Carl said easily. “Any member of the crew can come.”
Aaron resisted the very real urge to hit him.
Camille looked to Aaron again, waiting.
He gave a small shrug—meant to say it was fine, though it wasn’t.
“Alright,” she said with a light laugh. “But only for a little while. Send me the directions to your house.”
“Sure,” he said, sighing inside as he took out his phone. A few minutes later, he pocketed it and said, “Done.”
“Thanks,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.