The Color of Hope (16 page)
“Anything else would be a waste of time.”
Libby smiled a little. Forthrightness had to be a family trait. “Okay, here goes. I was surprised that after so much time had passed, your life was still very much affected by that one relationship, which of course produced Keisha. You never got married, and you said you’ve never loved anyone else. It seemed sad, if you want to know the truth, like you decided you weren’t going to take the risk to really live again.”
“Guess you couldn’t be much straighter than that.” Aunt Gwynn’s tone was easy. “Now what part of all that reminds you of your own life?”
“Well. Mine doesn’t involve an interracial romance. Or pregnancy. Or parents who said we couldn’t be together.” She paused, hearing herself. “Okay, now mine sounds trivial compared to yours.”
“If it’s on your heart like this, it’s not trivial,” Aunt Gwynn said. “I’m listening.”
“It’s just that . . . I dated this guy in college, and we both said we
weren’t looking for anything long-term and serious. But we were together all the time, got along well. He was a daily part of my life. And then . . .” Her breath caught. “Then I dropped by one day and a friend of mine opened the door,
his
door, like she belonged there. It knocked the wind out of me. After months and months together, he could so easily get with someone else? I wasn’t special at all? And the worst part was that . . .”
A tear slid down her face. She’d never admitted this to anyone, not even Janelle. “I’d fallen in love with him.” She flicked the tear away, wanting to move along. “Since then, I’ve been determined not to give my heart to anyone else. You could say I’ve committed myself to being uncommitted. So, kind of like you, that one relationship has affected everything else, because I don’t want to risk getting hurt. And I’m wondering if I’ll look up in twenty years and be where you are, bitter and alone.”
“You think I’m bitter?”
“Sorry. It does seem that way.”
“So the young man from college,” Aunt Gwynn said. “You parted ways like Jim and I did, never to see each other again?”
“Not exactly,” Libby said. “We went years without contact, then I saw him last December”—she paused, realizing the irony—“at Jim’s funeral.”
“At
Jim’s
funeral?”
“Guess I left out part of it. The guy’s name is Travis, and he grew up in Hope Springs. I’ve known him most of my life. He moved back to Hope Springs last fall to pastor New Jerusalem.”
“Interesting,” Aunt Gwynn said. “I understand Jim’s son, Todd, is pastor at Calvary now. Sounds like a sea change happening in Hope Springs, with two young pastors. Okay, and what’s the current story with you and Travis? Did you ignore one another? Patch things up?”
“It took awhile,” Libby said, “but with Grandma Geri getting sick
and passing away—she loved Travis, by the way—he and I became friends again and . . .” She sighed. “I won’t bore you with all that.”
“Or is it that it’s too painful?”
Libby stared at the table. “You’re right. See, you’re getting to know your niece better.” She smiled faintly. “At the reunion we broke off the friendship because once again I realized I had feelings for him, and he admitted the same for me. But it can’t go anywhere because, like I said, he’s a pastor now. And I’m not with the whole faith/God/church thing . . .”
“So we do have some things in common.”
“That’s where you are too?” Libby had thought they might be like-minded in this.
“I couldn’t understand how my parents and Jim’s parents—people of God, and a pastor in the case of Jim’s dad—could be so dead set against us because of the color of our skin. I knew that wasn’t in the Bible, and I said if this is what it looks like to be a person of faith, I want no part of it. And that’s where I remained until . . . well, really until this summer.”
Libby sat up. “What happened this summer?”
“Keisha’s been praying for me a long time. She said I was bitter too. And she was upset about the things I said at Momma’s birthday gathering. Talk about giving it straight . . .” She paused. “I wasn’t ready to receive it at the time. Didn’t go to my own momma’s funeral, as you know—and Keisha told me what she thought about that too.” She sighed. “Anyway, she got me to visit her church. I haven’t been going regularly, but I have to admit it’s making an impact.”
Libby felt strangely let down. She wanted her aunt to understand where she stood with not going to church, and even affirm it.
“Libby?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“What would you think about taking a trip up here?”
C
harley hopped in the shower Sunday morning, resolved to stay home from church. News of the discontinuation of the joint services had hit her hard. She’d been praying for just the opposite, had even talked to her grandfather early in the week. He’d never attended one of them himself, so she told him how beautiful it was to see the unity and fellowship between the churches.
But his mind was fixed. And by the end of the week, he was practically giddy when he reported that the elders meeting with Pastor Todd had yielded the result he wanted. Calvary would no longer participate in a joint service with New Jerusalem. He’d even indicated that today’s service would be a celebration of sorts, at least among those who’d been opposed to it.
Charley couldn’t bear it. How could she look forward to worshiping with people who had boycotted an actual church service just last week? She’d decided to have her own personal boycott today and informed her mom last night.
But her thinking changed in the shower. As she prayed through
her frustration, it occurred to her—Calvary wasn’t the only church in town. It was almost silly that it hit her the way it did, as if she didn’t know. But she’d never regarded New Jerusalem as an option until now. In all her thoughts that God was calling her to do something different, she was seeing more and more that the “different” was right before her, right in Hope Springs.
She stepped out of the shower, grabbing her towel, excited to call Stephanie and tell her. It didn’t escape her that Marcus would be there too. But she’d seen him all week at school, as they prepared for the arrival of students tomorrow, and she’d kept their interactions brief and light. She’d do the same today.
She slipped on her robe and walked out of the bathroom—and stopped short. Her mother was standing outside her brother’s bedroom, knocking.
“Ben, is Kelsey in there?” she said. “Unlock the door.
Now
.”
Charley’s eyes widened. Did he sneak Kelsey into his room? The two had been downstairs watching a movie last night, and Kelsey had fallen asleep. Charley’s mom called Kelsey’s mom to say she could sleep over, on the sofa.
Ben opened the door and stepped out, looking disheveled in a shirt, shorts, and bedhead. He closed the door behind him.
Dottie looked at him, the look that said she was beside herself. “Exactly what is going on, Ben?”
Ben sighed. “Mom, calm down. Nothing’s going on. Kelsey woke up in the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. So we finished watching the movie, then fell asleep in here. That’s it.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“It’s the
truth
, Mom.” Ben ran his fingers through his hair. “I know how it looks, but can’t you just trust me? You always assume the worst.”
Charley eyed her brother.
With good reason
.
“I want to trust you, Ben,” Dottie said. “After all you’ve been
taught, I want to believe you wouldn’t dare do something improper—right under my nose, no less.”
“That’s what I’m
saying
, Mom. I’m not that dumb. I’d be asking to get caught.” He glanced back at the door. “I’ll tell Kelsey she needs to get home . . . and we can all get ready for church.”
“Oh. Right.” Charley shook her head. “Now you want to go to church.”
Ben cut his eyes over at her. “Butt out, Charley. This has nothing to do with—”
“Actually, it does, Ben.” The words spilled out of her. “Kelsey is one of my players, and I care about the well-being of my girls. I care about you too. What you’re doing is not—”
“We didn’t
do
anything.”
“Listen,” Dottie said. Her gaze drifted beyond Ben to the door, then back at him. “Just . . . yes, tell Kelsey she needs to get home right now.” She paused, then sighed. “I don’t even know what to . . . We’ll talk about this later, Ben.”
Ben quickly disappeared into his room. Charley, shaking her head, moved toward hers.
“Charley, I’m hoping you changed your mind about going to church this morning,” her mom said.
Charley turned. “Actually, I did. I’m going to New Jerusalem.”
“What? But, Charley, that’s not our church. Don’t you think you might feel . . . out of place?”
Charley shrugged. “It’ll be cool. I’ll be with Stephanie and Janelle.”
“You know your grandfather won’t be pleased. He’s looking forward to Calvary members coming together for worship this morning.”
“Mom, I’m twenty-four. I can’t worry about what Grandpa thinks. I feel like, more and more, I just want to know what God thinks.”
Charley pulled away from the house at the same time as her mom and Ben, both cars headed for Maple Street. She’d gotten voice mail when she tried to call Stephanie and Janelle, which, she decided, was a good thing. They were sure to be surprised—since Charley was surprised herself by the idea. She’d much rather get their reaction in person than over the phone.
She needed to make only two turns between her house and Maple. Felt weird to pass the church she’d been attending her entire life, save for college. She saw familiar faces as people strolled down the sidewalk, heading inside. From her rearview mirror, she saw her mom slow behind her and parallel park.
With the churches only two blocks apart, Charley began to see a different wave of people strolling down the sidewalk, heading into New Jerusalem. She glanced down at what she was wearing. Though many at Calvary wore suits and dresses, she tended to dress down, a carryover from the church she attended near campus. Would her casual skirt and flat sandals fit the dressy garb she was seeing here?
She blew out a slow breath.
It’s not about dress. It’s not about anything
but Jesus
. That’s where she wanted her focus to be.
Charley had to turn up a side street to find a parking spot. She cruised two blocks and found one that her Corolla could maneuver into. She grabbed her Bible and got out.
“Parking must be real tight when Calvary folk have to come way down here.”
Recognizing the voice immediately, she turned. Marcus had stopped in the middle of the road, his window rolled down.
“I’m worshiping at New Jerusalem today.”
He paused, as if waiting for a punch line. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Hey, are Stephanie and Janelle already here?”
“No. I was at the house before I headed here, and they were still getting ready.”
Charley pointed. “You’ve got cars behind you.”
“Let me park real quick,” he said. “Be right back.”
And what? I’m supposed to wait?
She’d noticed this from Marcus all week, signs of their newfound familiarity. Like texting an update on her request for new uniforms instead of sending an e-mail. Or snagging a carrot cake cupcake for her, made by the civics teacher and quickly raided by faculty, because she’d enjoyed carrot cake at the reunion. The cupcake was delicious, and she would’ve missed it otherwise, but still . . . She wished he’d pretend the weekend never happened.
Just as she wished she’d walked up the sidewalk and into the church building instead of waiting.
Marcus came toward her now, in beige slacks, a striped button-down shirt, and a tie, which she tried not to notice.
“So what brought this New Jerusalem thing on?” he asked as they walked.
She stared ahead. “Trying to live outside the box, I guess.”
They walked in silence, then he glanced at her. “So . . . will you ever go back to being Charley?”
“I’m Charley right this moment.”
“Not the easygoing, smiley, kinda crazy Charley.”
“We all have different sides to our personalities.” She focused on her sandals.
“Except I already know how easily I connect with your
other
side, so this remote one seems strange.”
