Connor was cute and obviously used to getting his way.
“It’s not you; it’s me,” Charley said. “Busy weekend, got a lot on my mind.” She smiled, popped open the door. “Thanks again. Really. I enjoyed it.”
“Next weekend?”
“Actually, I’ll probably be out of town.”
She stepped out, closed the door, and heard his engine roar off as she opened her front door. Heading upstairs, she glanced at her watch. Already late—later than she wanted to be, anyway. She slipped out of her skirt and top and into the olive green reunion shirt and khaki capris waiting on her bed.
Stephanie had gotten her the shirt and insisted she wear it—after insisting she come. Friday night and Saturday morning with the Sanders family had seemed enough to wear out her welcome, so Charley had tried to beg off. But it was hard to resist the tag team persuasion of both Stephanie and Marcus. The three of them seemed to click, especially after hanging out until two in the morning. Still, she read nothing into Marcus’s end of the invitation. He was inviting her to hang with all of them, not just him. Though in her brief moments with just him, they’d seemed to have their own bit of chemistry . . . or was she imagining it?
She dashed into the hall bathroom to freshen her face and heard her mother’s bedroom door open.
Dottie stopped in the bathroom doorway. “I didn’t know you were back, honey. How did it go?”
“Fine.” Charley pressed powder on her forehead and nose.
“You liked him?”
She shrugged. “He’s okay.”
“Just okay?” Dottie’s disappointment showed. “He seems like a great guy, certainly on his way careerwise. And our families get along well, which is a plus . . .”
“I’m sure it’s all true, Mom.” Charley assessed her eye shadow. “He’s just not my type.”
“How can you tell after one date? Shouldn’t you—Wait, are you heading back out?”
“Rocky Mount Hilton,” she said. “The Sanders family is gathering there tonight.”
“Sounds like you’re having a great time at this family reunion,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Gladys and Estelle. Tell them I said hello.”
“Actually, you could tell them yourself. I hear a lot of the family’s going to the joint service tomorrow. It’ll be a good time for you all to catch up.”
“Oh, I haven’t had a chance to tell you. I decided not to go tomorrow.”
Charley turned. “What? You’re boycotting?”
“I’m not boycotting. I don’t like that term. But I’ve been talking to a few other Calvary friends. The consensus is that our church is in a transition phase, and the best thing right now is to focus inward and make sure our own house is in order, so to speak.” She hesitated slightly. “Grandpa Skip wants me to make sure you’re on board too.”
“I’m sorry to disagree, Mom, but I really want the joint service to succeed,” Charley said. “And being around Pastor Travis last night made me want to hear more from him. I’m looking forward to hearing him preach tomorrow.”
Dottie was quiet a moment. “I don’t think there’s a right or wrong in this. We just have differing opinions about the best course.”
“Maybe,” Charley said. “I haven’t really been paying attention or praying about it until now. I don’t know if there’s a right or wrong, but I’m really wondering what God’s heart is in all of this.”
It was close to ten when Charley entered the hotel ballroom, lights dim, music playing. She took a deep breath as she glanced around, feeling the flutters. You’re not looking for Marcus; you’re looking for Stephanie or Janelle.
A cheer went up, and Charley walked toward the mass of olive green shirts on the dance floor. Rows of people were doing a line dance—and having a ball. Cyd and Cedric were especially into it, causing another cheer to go up as they turned toward one another, did a fancy dance move, then rejoined the line. Charley spotted Janelle and Kory, Stephanie and her husband, and Marcus—just as he spotted her.
Marcus smiled as he stepped sideways with the crowd, motioning for her to join them.
Charley’s eyes widened, her head answering a vigorous no.
He two-hand urged her.
She two-handed no.
He said something to Stephanie, and they broke ranks and came for her.
Charley backed up, laughing. “Nope, nope, nope. I’m not making a fool of myself. I don’t know that dance.”
“It’s the Cha-Cha Slide,” Stephanie said, grabbing an arm. “Girl, they got me out there, and I never get it right. You’ll look good next to me.”
Marcus had her other arm. “I forgot to mention . . . there’s the rule about eating, and there’s one about doing the cha-cha . . . All guests have to try it.”
She didn’t know if it was the infectious beat or his infectious smile that did it.
“I’ll try it,” she said. “But if you laugh . . .”
“Me?” He pulled her by the hand. “Never.”
The three of them took a spot near the edge of the floor, Charley in between. Marcus jumped right back in, moving backward. Stephanie joined in, but by the time Charley caught on and took a step back, they were doing a hop and stomping a foot. Next thing she knew, the line had made a quarter turn.
Charley turned as they were moving left. “Marcus, I can’t get this. It’s going too fast.”
“Just follow what the guy’s saying on the song,” he said.
Charley nodded. Instead of focusing on the line dancers, she focused on the words. When the guy said, “To the left,” she went left. When he said, “Take it back,” she went back. Then she hopped forward with the line but started laughing at Stephanie—who was sliding left instead of right—and missed the cha-cha part.
They quarter-turned again, and Charley felt herself getting the hang of it. Her moves more fluid, she put some flavor in the hops and stomps—and got to try the cha-cha.
“I see you!” Stephanie called over. “Shake what your mama gave you, girl!”
Charley laughed again but kept moving so she wouldn’t fall out of rhythm. Two quarter turns later, they added new moves—a crisscross, a “Charlie Brown” thing, which she skipped, and a hand clap. Then she heard the guy say, “How low can you go; can you go down low; all the way to the floor . . .”
She didn’t know what got into her, but she had to try it. What she didn’t know was that she’d be one of few who would. Most stopped midway and cheered as she made her way down “to the floor.”
“Look at you,” Marcus said. He did a double-time clap to the beat to urge her on.
“This is fun!” Charley said—then her knee locked as she tried to come back up.
She almost keeled over, but Marcus grabbed her hand and pulled her upward. She clung to his arm, off balance still, mostly because she couldn’t stop laughing.
“I think I’m done,” she said. “But I gave it a try!”
He walked her off the floor. “You more than gave it a try. You get mad props from me, Coach Willoughby.” He smiled at her. “Thought you said you couldn’t dance.”
“I said I didn’t know that dance.”
They sat at the nearest table, which was empty at the moment, and continued to watch the dance floor.
Marcus looked at her. “Glad you came tonight. I was beginning to think you changed your mind.”
Charley could feel her heart racing. “I didn’t think I’d be this late, but . . . I kind of had a date tonight.”
Marcus’s brows knit. “How do you kind of have a date?”
“When you go as a favor to your family and can’t wait for it to be over.”
“Ahh, okay.” He sat back, crossed a leg onto his knee. “So, you haven’t been seeing anyone seriously since your breakup?”
“No. What about you?”
“Nah.” He glanced down, fingered a program on the table.
“Sounds like there’s more to it.”
“It’s just . . . ironic.” He shr
ugged. “I tended to date a couple women at a time—”
“Oh, only a couple?”
He glanced at her. “Not proud of it. Just being honest.” He continued, “But now that I’m getting serious about my relationship with God and thinking differently about relationships with women, I find myself in Hope Springs . . . with no single women.”
“No single women?” She hoped she didn’t sound presumptuous. She quickly added, “Aren’t there plenty at New Jerusalem?”
“Okay. No single women might’ve been a slight exaggeration.” He smiled. “Maybe it’s just part of the new thing happening with me right now—I’m not really looking. I’m enjoying this season of just . . . learning. The discipleship I’m getting from Travis is incredible.”
Charley nodded. “I can imagine.” She glanced around. “Where is Travis, anyway?”
“He was here earlier.” He looked around too. “Guess he left. Probably getting ready for service tomorrow.”
Another cheer went up when the music changed. The younger set was flocking to the floor, starting a different line dance.
“What’s this one called?” Charley said.
“The Wobble.” Marcus grinned at the sight, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “I see you, Cedric! You and Cyd show the young folk how it’s done!”
Cedric waved at him, not missing a beat.
Stephanie came off the floor and collapsed in a seat next to Charley. “Don’t encourage him, Marcus,” she said. “Cedric doesn’t seem to realize he’s in his forties. Basketball this morning, dancing all night . . . he’s gonna have a heart attack out there.”
Charley smiled. “Stephanie, you seem really close with Cyd and Cedric.”
Stephanie watched them on the floor. “Definitely. I hate they’ll be leaving first thing Monday morning.”
“Yep,” Marcus said. “When the family reunion’s over, everybody’s gone, and you and Lindell are still here, that’s when it’ll hit you—you live here.”
“Everybody won’t be gone,” Charley said. “She lives with Janelle and the kids, and you’re right up the street.”
Marcus nodded agreement. “True.”
“Yeah, but it’ll still hit me,” Stephanie said, “and I’ll be wondering what’s next.” She grew thoughtful. “I talked to Lindell about your proposition, Marcus. And I am praying. I know you need an answer soon.”
“I’m praying too.” Charley looked at Stephanie. “Have to admit it’s crossed my mind how cool it would be to work in the same building. All the friends I grew up with are gone.”
“Girl, I didn’t even grow up with a lot of friends. I have this thing about getting too close to people.” She paused. “But there’s something about you.” She nodded slightly. “You keep it real. I like you.”
Marcus eyed the two of them. “Should I leave so you two can have your girl-bonding moment?”
“No,” Stephanie said. “True girl bonding only happens late-night when Spanx come off—speaking for myself on that one—and hair is looking crazy.” She turned to Charley. “Speaking of which, you should stay at the house tonight. Then you can ride with us to the service in the morning . . . if you’re going.”
“Definitely going,” Charley said. “But don’t you have a house full?”
“That’s what makes it fun, long as you don’t care about little things like getting a good night’s rest.”
“Sleep’s overrated.” Charley smiled. “I can run home after this and get my things.”
“Awesome.” Stephanie stood as the DJ switched to a slow song. “I see my hubby calling me to the dance floor.” She waved back at him. “My feet are killing me in these wedge sandals, but that’s our song.”
Charley laughed as Stephanie wobbled her way over, then looked at Marcus.
“Don’t feel that you have to keep me company,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think I could move if I wanted to.” Marcus stretched out his legs under the table. “Lack of sleep is catching up to me.” He smiled. “It’s a good tired, though. I don’t know when I’ve laughed as hard as I laughed last night.”
“Yeah, y’all get crazy after midnight.”
“Y’all? Who started all the ‘You might be from Hope Springs . . .’ jokes?”
Charley laughed. “I thought up some more today too.”
He stared at her a moment. “You’re different from what I thought.”
She gave him a look. “Not sure I want to know what that means.”
“I mean, I knew you were a nice person, but whenever I’d see you, you were about business, heading to the gym, getting it done. I never would’ve pictured you cracking jokes or seeing ‘how low can you go.’”
“All blame goes to you and Stephanie for bringing out that side of me.”
“I’ll take my share, then.” He paused. “I like that side of you.”
She let her gaze fall on the dance floor, telling herself to take caution, not to read anything into what Marcus said or did. He was a nice guy. This was casual conversation. It meant nothing.
She only needed to steady her beating heart long enough to listen.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sunday, August 1
Eyes barely open, Stephanie entered the kitchen earlier than planned Sunday morning for the sole purpose of telling everyone to be quiet. She’d gone to bed at five, counting on at least four hours of sleep. But as much as she’d tried to bury her head under the pillow, she couldn’t escape the rising voices in the kitchen—and it was only seven.
“Could y’all please keep it down in here?” Through half-shut lids, she could make out Cyd—with Chase on her lap—Becca, and Aunt Gladys at the kitchen table. “Are you aware there’s such a thing as a whisper?” Stephanie said the last word in a hushed voice in case they needed a demonstration.
“I’m sorry, it’s my fault.” Becca had on her robe. “I knew somebody’d be up over here. I had to see what y’all thought about the morning paper.”
Stephanie rubbed her eyes and came closer. “What’s in it?”
Cyd turned it around so she could read it. It was The Rocky Mount Sentinel, and the headline below the fold on the front page read LOCAL QUEST FOR UNITY STIRS DIVISION, RACIAL TENSION.
Stephanie leaned over and skimmed the first few lines. “Oh my goodness, they’re talking about Calvary and New Jerusalem?” She snatched up the paper.
“Yes, ma’am,” Aunt Gladys said. “Keep reading.”
Stephanie turned the page to see how long it was. “This is, like, a whole profile of Hope Springs and the churches.”
“I learned a lot I didn’t know,” Becca said. “It’s quite sobering.”
Stephanie slid into a seat at the table, eyes back on the front page, and read aloud. “. . . ‘known for its quaint, small-town feel . . . people still don’t lock their doors at night . . . but there’s a dark thread that runs through the history of the town.’” She looked up. “Dark thread?”
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