“I bet y’all are in Rocky Mount, eating hotel chicken that don’t taste near good as mine.” A raspy laugh made Grandma Geri cough a little. “Y’all thought I wouldn’t be there to complain about it this year, didn’t you?”
Laughter broke out around the ballroom. Grandma Geri was known for saying what she felt, though her delivery was a little labored now.
“Well, I don’t have long. And I know you know that ‘cause I’m dead if you’re watching. But I asked Libby to tape this message for me and not to tell anybody till she showed it.” She leaned forward a little. “Wood, you spank her for me if she told.”
Libby’s dad looked at her from the other side of the table. He had tears in his eyes, as did Libby.
Grandma Geri continued, “In this family, we’ve had good times and sad times. We’ve done right, and we’ve done wrong. Amen?”
Heads nodded. “Amens” sounded.
“But one thing we always done—hold to His unchanging hand. It ain’t just a song. It’s what we do. I don’t want none of y’all to forget that. We ain’t nothing without the good Lord.”
She paused, and more “Amens” filled the space.
“I got to go. I’m tired.” Grandma Geri coughed. “I love you. But I’d be lying if I said I miss you. I told y’all I wanted to be with my Jesus and my Elwood, and that’s just where I am.” She held up her hand in a wave. “I’ll see you when you get here. All right, Libby, turn that thing off.”
The screen went black, and no one moved. Libby wouldn’t have known if they did anyway, because her head was lowered, tears streaming down her face. She’d seen the video a handful of times, but it had never hit her like this.
Travis leaned over and put an arm around her. “I miss her too.”
Libby missed her, and that was surely part of it, but there was more . . . even if she couldn’t put her finger on it.
At the table next to them, a voice started, “Hold to His hand, God’s unchanging hand . . .”
Travis immediately stood, adding his voice. “Hold to His hand, God’s unchanging hand . . .”
Seconds later the whole room was on its feet, which was quite a sight with a sea of olive-colored reunion shirts.
Travis led them into the first verse. “Time is filled with swift transition, Naught of earth unmoved can stand . . .” Everyone knew the next part: “Build your hope on things eternal, Hold to God’s unchanging hand.”
Hands clapping now, they launched into the chorus again, “Hold to His hand, God’s unchanging hand; Hold to His hand, God’s unchanging hand. Build your hope on things eternal; Hold to God’s unchanging hand.”
Libby hadn’t sung that song in years, but the words were there. And she felt them. On her feet with the rest, she sang the chorus one last time. They ended with a hand clap of praise and took their seats.
Wood walked to the podium. His booming voice made him the natural emcee at these gatherings, and he’d played that role effortlessly tonight. Right now, though, he seemed at a loss for words.
“Wow,” he said finally. “I wasn’t expecting all this. But I should’ve known Mama would have the last word, even moving us to praise.” He paused as people chimed in their agreement. “We all know how much her presence is missed here this year. We’ve talked about it throughout the weekend. Hearing her voice one last time . . . that was . . . really special.”
Libby looked on, filled with emotion.
Wood looked over at his daughter. “I want to thank you, Libby, for producing such a splendid video. It’ll be a family treasure always. And I have to add that this entire evening has been incredible. I know you worked hard pulling together all that talent for the talent show, even coaxing family members who never get up here to unveil their hidden talents.” He paused. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. You went above and beyond this evening.”
Family members rose around the ballroom, giving her thunderous applause. Embarrassed, Libby waved it away, which made them clap all the more.
When they settled down, Wood continued, “The good news is the night isn’t over. The DJ is set up and ready to go, so let’s get the party started. But don’t party too much.” He looked out over the crowd. “Where are my pastors?”
Travis and Todd waved their hands.
Wood grinned. “They’re expecting to see every last one of y’all at the combined Calvary–New Jerusalem service tomorrow.”
The music kicked in and tables emptied as people got up to mingle or dance. Libby remained seated, turning over her father’s comment. She’d said she wouldn’t attend the service. But many in the family would. Couldn’t she treat it as a reunion event and just go? Suddenly she kind of wanted to. Travis was preaching tomorrow, and he’d been asking her to go for months. She nodded to herself, letting it jell. This weekend really did seem like a turning point for the two of—
She felt a tug on her arm and looked left. It was Travis. “Remember this song? We’ve got to go out there for old times’ sake.”
Libby tuned in now. She loved that song, a midtempo from the late nineties. But she wouldn’t budge. “Travis, I’m tired. I didn’t get a nap today.”
“Come on, we have to. This was our song.”
The butterflies stirred, along with a cavalcade of memories. She let him pull her to her feet and walk her by hand to the dance floor. The weariness melted as they transported themselves back in time, doing the same dances they’d done in college. It got silly when Janelle and Kory moved beside them and the couples went way back, doing some version of the waltz that probably wasn’t the waltz at all.
Libby and Travis glided across the floor, hands clasped outward, his other on her waist. As the song ended, Travis and Kory dipped the women far back, to cheers and applause. They laughed as they left the floor, and Libby wondered how many in his congregation knew this side of him, the silly Travis. But then, they knew a side she didn’t . . . which reminded her . . .
She looked into his eyes. “I’m thinking about coming to the service tomorrow morning.”
He stared at her, his eyes soft. “I would love that. What made you change your mind?”
Libby shrugged lightly. “I think this weekend has changed me a little.”
“How so?”
She hesitated, not fully sure of the answer herself. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m finally beginning to—”
“Hey, Libby, can you come here a minute?” her dad called from a few feet away. “People are asking how they can get a copy of that video.”
“Okay, Dad.” She looked at Travis. “Be right back.”
Libby walked to the table where her father and a few others were gathered.
Aunt Gladys spoke up. “We can’t stop talking about that video, Libby,” she said. “We’re wondering if we can get copies and how much it would cost. I think most of us want one.”
“Sure,” Libby said. “I should’ve made that announcement. If I know how many to order—”
Out of the corner of her eye, Libby noticed a woman arrive, the same one who had come to the gym that morning. She appeared to be a friend of Janelle and Stephanie—and Travis. He saw her first and went to greet her.
“Um,” Libby continued. “Yeah, if you give me an idea of how many you need, I’ll let you know the price.”
“Wonderful,” Gladys said. “That’s a keepsake for sure.”
Libby glanced at Travis and the woman as she joined Janelle and Stephanie. She didn’t know why, but she felt a little jumpy inside.
“Who’s that?” Libby asked.
Janelle and Stephanie turned. “Oh, Trina’s here,” Janelle said.
Libby was curious still. The woman was pretty and lively—and touchy-feely. “Who’s Trina?”
“She attends New Jerusalem,” Janelle said, “and Soul Sisters. Steph and I invited her.”
Libby’s insides settled somewhat. A member of his congregation. Of course they’d be friendly.
They walked over to her.
“Welcome to the
Sanders family reunion, Trina,” Janelle said. She hugged her, then Stephanie did the same.
“Yeah,” Travis said, “their welcome is worth more than mine, since they’re actual family.”
“You’ve been to more reunions than I have,” Stephanie said. “You might be adopted, but you’re as much family as any of us.”
Trina smiled. “Travis was telling me he’s been coming since he was a young boy.”
Libby extended her hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Libby Sanders.”
Trina shook it. “Nice to meet you, Libby. Trina Wheeler.”
“You live in Hope Springs?” Libby asked.
“Wilson,” Trina said. “I heard about Pastor Travis and New Jerusalem last fall and started coming.” She smiled at him. “He’s made a huge difference in my life.”
There was an awkward silence until Janelle jumped in. “It’s great that you could come hang with us tonight.”
“I actually won’t be able to stay.” Trina looked at her watch. “When you invited me earlier, I completely forgot my brother asked me to come to this jazz club where he’s playing tonight—oh, and he invited you again too,” she said, touching Travis’s arm, “but I told him you’d be at the reunion this weekend.” Hardly catching a breath, she turned back to the rest. “Anyway, it’s not far from here, so I decided to stop by real quick and say hello.” Pouting, she added, “But I need to run already.”
Libby heard words of parting and something about seeing Trina tomorrow—and she may have said good-bye herself—but it was all a fog. She left the ballroom right after Trina, heading a different direction. To where, she didn’t know. She simply walked the hall until she saw a little enclave to the left with a grouping of empty armchairs. Taking one facing the wall, she sat and lowered her head.
How could she have been so stupid? Did she really think there was a chance for her and Travis? She hadn’t actually thought it, but it was there, lurking. Libby felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She knew Travis couldn’t be with her. He was a pastor. He loved God, lived for God. Libby hadn’t lived for God in years, if ever. But tonight she’d felt herself turning . . .
So naïve. Just because she and Travis spent time together, she thought it meant something? That her life was changing?
“Libby, can I talk to you?” Travis took the armchair next to hers.
She crossed her legs away from him.
“Libby.” He leaned on his thighs. “We need to talk.”
Libby wiped her eyes and sat up, looking away from him. “You could’ve told me, Travis.”
“Told you what?”
“That you were seeing someone.”
“I’m not seeing Trina.”
Libby looked at him. “It’s obvious the two of you spend time together.”
“Because we went to a concert?”
She glanced away.
“Can we back up?” Travis said. “Why do you care? Aren’t you seeing Omar?”
“What does that matter? It’s not serious. He’s not even with me this weekend.”
“Which brings me to my other point. You say you don’t want a committed relationship. So I repeat—why do you care if I’m seeing Trina? Why are you upset?”
She fought to contain another surge of emotion. “Because I thought we were rebuilding a friendship between us.”
“Libby, we are. And I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
She stared at her hands, tears sliding down her face.
“Tell me, Libby. What’s on your mind?”
Libby swiped the tears and looked hard at him. “You know what’s on my mind? Déjà vu. Fifteen years ago I was sitting in my dorm room telling myself what a fool I was to have feelings for you. And guess what? It was after finding out you were seeing someone else.”
“So you’re upset because you have feelings for me, right now?”
She looked away. “I’m not answering that.”
“I will.” Travis tugged her hand so she’d look at him. “I admit I have feelings for you.”
Libby couldn’t respond. She simply stared at him.
“This isn’t déjà vu, Libby. In college I didn’t commit to you because I was foolish. But now . . . it’s a different reality.”
“Because you’re a pastor.”
He shifted, looking more intently at her. “It’s not just that,” he said. “I’m committed to Jesus. I want to obey His Word, and that means the woman with whom I pursue a relationship must also be committed to Jesus.” He sighed, glancing down a moment. “But reconnecting with you these past few months awakened old feelings—maybe even new ones.” He paused again. “I thought we could be friends, but the last thing I want to do is hurt you again.”
Why can’t I stop these stupid tears?
She stared into her lap. “So . . . are you at least thinking about pursuing a relationship with Trina?”
“It’s a possibility,” he said, and the frankness of it hurt. He quickly added, “But this isn’t about Trina, and it really isn’t about me. It’s about you, Libby. Your soul. Your eternity.” He paused. “I told you at the fish fry that deep down I think you do want a committed relationship. And the only relationship that’ll satisfy that desire is Jesus.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Pastor. Nice way to write me off.”
“Don’t do that, Libby. You know this is from the heart.”
She did know it. She just didn’t know what to do with it.
She stood and turned to go.
“Just like that?” he said. “That’s how we’re leaving this?”
Libby looked at him. “I don’t have anything else to say.”
“Are you . . . still coming to the service tomorrow?”
Right. So I can watch you and Trina? “I’ll pass.”
His eyes fell. “What about the reunion? Should I stay away the rest of the weekend?”
“I wouldn’t tell you that.”
He looked at her. “But you’d prefer it.”
She stared into his brown eyes. Didn’t he know what she would truly prefer? Tears threatening once more, she walked away.
CHAPTER TEN
Charley had her hand on the door handle before the car came to a complete stop. “Thanks for dinner, Connor,” she said. “I had a nice time.”
Connor shifted his BMW to park, idling by the front curb of Charley’s home. “So did I,” he said. “But it’s not even late. You sure you don’t want to catch a movie or something?”
Charley nodded. “I’m sure. Appreciate the offer, though.”
He leaned on the console. “Did I do something wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, “but I’m used to women showing a little more interest. If anything, I’m the one trying to cut the evening short. But I like you, a lot.”
He eased closer, touched her hair. Charley flinched.
“See.” Connor pulled back. “I feel like I keep doing the wrong thing with you.”
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