The Color of Hope

by Kim Cash Tate

  Stephanie sighed. “I just don’t know why we took that as the sign we should go. Maybe it was meant to show us what’s possible here. Surely there’s a practice in St. Louis that would allow him to work a part-time schedule and travel to Haiti.” She threw up her hands. “But noooo, we ran with it before we had any idea what I would be doing in Hope Springs.” She gave her sister a pointed look. “Why did you let me do that?”

  “Why did I . . . ? You’re the one who said it seemed clear.”

  “But you should’ve told me to wait until all the pieces were in place. I don’t have a job yet, and we’re moving tomorrow.”

  “Steph, you don’t have a job here, you haven’t in years.” Cyd’s eyes softened. “What’s the real issue? The small town, lack of a job . . . or something else?”

  Stephanie took a long breath and thought on it a moment. “This has been my safety net all my life . . . this church, my family, you. If I don’t know the answer—which is most of the time—you’re the first person I run to, no offense to Lindell.” Tears slid down her face. “I don’t want to live hundreds of miles from all of you. I need you.”

  Cyd took her into her arms. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Why?” She sniffed on Cyd’s shoulder. “For being a first-class coward?”

  Cyd took a step back and looked her in the eye. “I’ve watched my little sister go from a self-centered, overconfident, impetuous brat—”

  Stephanie rolled her teary eyes.

  “—sorry, but you were—to a reflective, prayerful woman who wants to follow God, whatever it might mean. It seems crazy, you’re scared, you have no idea what you’ll be doing down there—but you and I both know you’re still going.”

  Stephanie pouted. “Can’t y’all just move there too? We can make room in Grandma Geri’s house.”

  Cyd laughed softly. “It’ll be hard enough trying to find room in Grandma’s house for a few days this week.” Her phone was ringing, and she pulled her purse off her shoulder and fished around to find it. “I’m so glad you scheduled the move the same week as the family reunion. We get to road-trip with you all, help you get settled, and hang out a few days with family. It’ll be fun.”

  “Yeah . . . until I have to say another round of good-byes Monday morning.” Stephanie gave a forlorn sigh.

  “Oops.” Cyd stared at her phone. “Missed call from Libby.”

  Stephanie’s phone rang in her hand. “Now she’s calling me. No need to wonder what it’s about.”

  Cousin Libby, an event planner, had agreed to take over the planning of the Sanders family reunion, which for years had been handled by their parents’ generation. The closer they got to the reunion, the more they’d heard from her. And it was always urgent.

  Cyd nodded. “Libby might be the only one with more ‘emergencies’ than you right now.”

  Stephanie answered. “What’s up, Lib?”

  “Why is your team the only one who has yet to post pictures on the reunion site? I hope you know Team Bruce is in last place.”

  Stephanie gasped. “Last place? I’d better not tell Dad. He’ll never live it down if he doesn’t win—wait, what’s this again? Survivor or The Amazing Race?”

  “See, that’s why I didn’t want to do this. I knew people wouldn’t take it seriously,” Libby said. “I work hard to come up with fun new ideas to get people involved, and all I get is grief.”

  The Sanders family reunion was huge, with dozens of relatives beyond the offspring of Grandma Geri and Grandpa Elwood Sanders. But Libby had cooked up a team concept just for their branch of the tree to encourage participation. Stephanie’s dad, Bruce, was the oldest of Grandma Geri’s five offspring.

  “Oh, ease up on the violins.” Stephanie was smiling. “You know I’m one of the ones who talked you into doing this. Would’ve posted pictures, but mine are all packed up.”

  Cyd took the phone. “Mine are by the computer, ready to scan before we leave town tomorrow. Even got Dad to give me pics from when he was little. That’s more points, right?”

  “Team Bruce trying to come from the rear!” Libby exclaimed.

  Stephanie was listening and grabbed the phone back. “Team Bruce not only coming from the rear but about to pass your team, especially when we get points for the basketball game. Both our husbands are playing.” She cleared her throat. “No need to point out the obvious, but since you don’t have a brother or a husband—and Uncle Wood’s probably not playing—you’ll get zero points for that one.”

  “Wrong.” Libby sang it. “Rules stipulate we can recruit team members for events, and Team Wood will have a b-ball player.”

  “Who?”

  “Travis.”

  “Ooooh.” Stephanie’s eyebrows rose. “I won’t even dispute this so-called rule you came up with. I just want to know what’s up with Travis on Team Libby.”

  “He’s on Team Wood, not Team Libby. And nothing’s up with that. I asked him and he said yes.”

  “Mm-hm,” Stephanie said. “I see I’ve got a lot to catch up on. The picture’s looking a little different from when I was down there.”

  “Okay, well, gotta make some more calls.”

  “You can run but you can’t hide.”

  Libby laughed. “When do y’all get here?”

  “Loading up and hitting the road tomorrow. We’ll stop somewhere overnight. Probably get to Hope Springs late Thursday morning.”

  “The move-in crew will be assembled,” Libby said. “Can’t wait to see you!”

  “You too, girl.”

  Stephanie hung up and glanced at Cyd, who appeared contemplative.

  “You mentioned Travis,” Cyd said. “I was just thinking how challenging it must be to be a pastor in Hope Springs right now.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Stephanie said. “Just when my mood lightens a little, you remind me of another downside to this move—the churches.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a downside.” Cyd was still pondering. “I actually think it’s kind of exciting.”

  Stephanie frowned at her. “So . . . members of New Jerusalem and Calvary Church are complaining about a once-a-month joint service because they don’t want to worship together.” She gestured around them. “We happened to have grown up in this multiethnic church. Tell me what’s exciting about stepping back into the sixties.”

  “But look what’s happened there in just the last year. God switched up the leadership at both churches, bringing Todd and Travis back to pastor. Janelle just moved back and was instrumental in coming up with the joint service. And now you’re moving down.” Cyd nodded, clearly piecing it together in her mind. “There will always be people who resist change, but it’s still exciting when God is at work. Who knows? Maybe this is why you’re moving, to play a role in all of this.”

  “In the church thing?” Stephanie said. “I doubt it. I’ve never been active in anything churchwise.”

  “Doesn’t mean you won’t. You’re more of a leader than you know.”

  Stephanie smirked at her sister. “I still think the whole move is crazy.”

  Cyd smiled. “Maybe crazy is just what Hope Springs needs.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Thursday, July 29

  Libby took the Hope Springs exit early Thursday morning, her mind loaded with things to do, the first being, “Kick yourself for agreeing to oversee this reunion.”

  Her dad, Wood, and his twin sister, Estelle, had helmed it for decades. They’d begun planning this one as well, sending out notices to family members of the date and reserving a block of hotel rooms in Rocky Mount. But they lived out of state and had wanted for some time to pass the planning duties to the next generation. And when Libby pulled together a last-minute celebration of Grandma Geri’s eighty-seventh birthday last spring, the prodding to take the reins of the annual reunion became unavoidable.

  Her dad and Aunt Estelle had promised to stay in the mix, but once Libby got going, her ideas took on a life of their own. Planning was in her blood. And while sh
e loved what those ideas had produced, the reunion as a whole had sucked too much time away from her real job—especially this week. She’d taken the entire week off, going back and forth between her apartment in Raleigh and Hope Springs.

  She turned down Grandma Geri’s street, catching herself for still thinking of it that way. But how could she not? That’s how she’d thought of it all her life. It would take a long time to get used to walking through the door of the family home and seeing Janelle and Stephanie living there instead of Grandma Geri.

  Her foot tapped the brake a little as she approached Travis’s place, and the butterflies swirled. They always swirled when she passed his house. She glanced over and saw the door ajar, with only the outer screen in place. Probably about to take his morning jog. Or maybe her cousin Marcus was up and about. To her surprise, the two of them had forged a tight bond after reconnecting at Grandma Geri’s party. Marcus had asked Travis to mentor him spiritually, and Travis took it seriously. Next thing Libby knew, Marcus had been hired for a position at Hope Springs High and was staying with Travis until he got his own place.

  Just as Libby realized her car had stalled, Travis opened the screen door and walked out, clad in Duke shorts and a T-shirt, arm muscles clearly defined. He looked even better than when they’d dated in college, though she wasn’t sure what to think about that. Finding out he’d become a pastor had thrown off her equilibrium where he was concerned—and she hadn’t quite gained it back.

  “Good morning!” He was smiling. Always that smile. “You were stopping to say hello, right?”

  He often chided her for driving past his house to get to her grandmother’s and never stopping by. She smiled back. “Yeah, that’s it. I was stopping to say hello.”

  He laughed. “Now that you told that lie, you have to stop.”

  She pulled into the driveway behind his SUV and felt her heart hammering as she got out and walked toward him.

  “You look nice,” he said.

  She glanced down at the shorts and shirt she’d thrown on. “I look bummy. This is reunion-prep-plus-help-Stephanie-move-in attire.”

  “You couldn’t look bummy if you tried.”

  He gave her a hug, and quick as it was, it brought back memories.

  “You got a minute to come in?” he said.

  “Sure.” She smiled. “Janelle texted that she’s making breakfast, but I’m sure she’ll save me some.”

  “And you’re smiling because you know I’m about to call Janelle and tell her to save me some. The most breakfast variety we’ve got here is Wheat Chex and Wheaties.”

  Libby followed him to the door. “I’m trying to remember the last time I was in your family’s house. Had to be high school.” Whenever she saw him, it was at Grandma Geri’s.

  “Those were the days,” Travis said. “So many summer memories.” He opened the door. “You and Janelle were a bad influence on Todd and me.”

  Libby needed only to give him a look. “Yeah, that’s why Grandma Geri said you two were so bad she couldn’t believe you both turned out to be pastors.” She stopped short when she walked inside. “You have got to be kidding me.” She looked at Travis. “You weren’t too embarrassed to invite me in? Look at this place.”

  “What?”

  Marcus emerged from the kitchen, a glass of orange juice in hand. “Hey, cuz.” He surveyed the scene himself. “Yeah. What?”

  She checked out the shirt on the arm of the sofa, the empty potato chip bag and glass on the floor, the carryout carton on the coffee table that had to have been from last night at least. “Y’all are slobs. I don’t even want to see the kitchen. Definitely not using the bathroom.”

  “Aw, that’s cold,” Travis said. “I thought we were doing a good job keeping it straight.”

  Libby turned to Marcus. “I know Aunt Gladys taught you better than this. I’ve never seen a more spotless house than hers.”

  Marcus’s face turned sheepish. “Actually I might’ve been spoiled, being the baby and the only boy. Between Mom and four older sisters, I escaped cleaning detail.”

  Libby shook her head, turning back to Travis. “And what’s your excuse?”

  He spread his hands. “I’m still trying to figure out what the problem is. It might not look exactly like it did when Mom was here, but it’s not that bad.” He donned a mischievous smile. “But your grandmother did say I needed a wife.”

  “When you find one,” Marcus said, “ask her if she has a sister. I’m in my late twenties and wondering where all the good women are.”

  “Give me a break, little cousin,” Libby said. “You’ve had girls after you from the time you were young, and Aunt Gladys had to tell them to quit calling her house late at night. You’re just too picky.”

  “Oh really?” Marcus gave her a look. “Pot calling the kettle black?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m picky.” She thought a second. “Okay, maybe I am. But key difference—I’m not looking to get married.”

  “Does Omar know that?” Marcus added suddenly, “Where is Omar, anyway? You’ve been leaving him in Raleigh lately. Is he coming to the reunion?”

  “Omar’s not coming, no.”

  She’d brought Omar to a couple of family gatherings last spring, mostly to act as a buffer against her lingering feelings for Travis. But Omar started taking things too seriously. Plus—and she was only lately admitting this to herself—she no longer wanted that buffer.

  Marcus swallowed the last of his juice and put the glass on the coffee table, then caught Libby’s eye and took it to the kitchen. “Better get to work,” he said. “Can’t believe the kids’ll be starting school in a week and a half.”

  “How does it feel, working at our parents’ alma mater?” Libby called after him.

  “In a word, weird.” Marcus rejoined them, apparently pondering it. “If it weren’t for this man right here, urging me to pray about applying—then urging me to take it—I would’ve stayed in Greensboro.” He sighed. “Every school district has its politics, but small-town politics? And we’re smack in the middle of this joint service thing?” He shook his head. “It’s crazy.”

  “I know, man,” Travis said. “I thought things would settle down over the summer, but it’s only gotten worse.”

  Marcus opened the screen door. “I’ll be back early afternoon to help Stephanie and Lindell move in.”

  “See you then,” Libby said, heading to the door herself. She turned to Travis as Marcus left. “You coming too?”

  “I’ll be there. I can come earlier if you need me. Don’t you need help setting things up outdoors?”

  Travis had already been a big help in planning the reunion. He’d suggested the basketball game Saturday morning and another tourney on Sunday, and gave assistance whenever she came to town.

  “That would be great.” She looked at him. “Thank you for all your help with this.”

  “No need to thank me,” he said. “Seems like I’ve been hanging out at Sanders family reunions all my life. I feel like I am a Sanders.” He kept his gaze on her. “And if this is the only way I can get you to be nice to me again, I’ll take it.”

  She swatted his arm. “You’re saying I’m only being nice so I can get some tables set up?”