Hope Springs

by Kim Cash Tate

  “So there really is a Mayberry, huh?”

  Janelle had laughed at David’s remark on his first visit. Now it punctuated the sadness as she made a left onto Main, eyes darting to the clock on the dash—12:10. Funeral started at three. She’d made good time.

  She drove past the two-pump gas station, long closed, and a smattering of storefronts, plus the Main Street Diner, all with Christmas lights strung. Not a lot of hustle and bustle in the early afternoon—or anytime, really—but a handful of townspeople dotted the sidewalks. Hope Springs always marked a stark contrast to life just outside the nation’s capital. Simpler living. Slower pace. Even her driving was unusually sedate.

  Janelle turned left again and headed down her grandmother’s road, greeted by familiar old homes of varying sizes and states of repair. She bypassed them all and rounded a bend that opened up a different view—a wooded preserve to the left and a stretch of green space on the right. The two houses at the end of the street had been occupied by the same two families for generations, the Sanders and the Dillons. Spending time with one family in Hope Springs meant spending time with the other.

  She tapped the brake and gazed at the Dillon home, a two-story white frame house with black shutters and rocking chairs on the front porch. Looked eerily quiet. She still couldn’t believe Jim Dillon had died of a heart attack. He was only in his late fifties. Probably thought he’d be pastoring Calvary Church another decade at least.

  Janelle continued to Grandma Geri’s house, a ranch style that had expanded over the years to accommodate Sanders family gatherings. She pulled onto the dirt and grass that served as a parking lot when family visited, parking next to her parents’ car. They’d arrived last night from Florida. When she killed the engine, heads rose behind her and arms stretched with yawning.

  “Are we here?” Eight-year-old Daniel rubbed his eyes.

  Janelle turned. “Yes, baby, we’re here.”

  They’d driven four and a half hours, and the kids had slept the last two.

  Tiffany unhooked the seat belt that crossed her booster seat. “I’m ready to get out, Mommy.”

  Janelle smiled at her. “Okay, sweetie.”

  She opened her door and stepped out, leaving the winter jacket she’d worn at the start of the trip. An Indian summer breeze had warmed the Carolina air—and a delicious aroma filled it. She inhaled. Her dad, Russell, and Uncle Wood were probably in the back roasting a pig. Whether the occasion was happy or sad, the prescription was the same—lots and lots of food.

  The sliding door opened and Daniel popped out, with Tiffany on his heels. At four she did her best to keep up with her brother’s every move. They made a beeline for the house just as Libby was walking out. She spun around.

  “Daniel and Tiffany—I know y’all didn’t run right past me like you didn’t see me.”

  Daniel stopped with his foot in the door. He and Tiffany turned back around, gave Libby a quick hug, and ran inside.

  “That’s what you get for being a regular visitor.” Janelle hugged her cousin. “They don’t think it’s anything special to see you.”

  Since David died, Libby had driven up from Raleigh every few months to spend time with Janelle.

  “Uh-huh.” Libby looked back at them. “Bet they won’t run past my Christmas gifts.”

  They moved to the door, and Libby paused with her hand on the screen handle. “Before we go in, his name is Al.”

  “Who?”

  “My date.”

  “Who brings a date to a funeral?”

  “Crazy, right? That’s what I told him.” Libby came closer and whispered, “I told him I was staying through Christmas, and he asked if he could come meet Mom and Dad.”

  “Oh, he’s trying to get in with the family? It can’t be serious because you haven’t even told me about him.”

  Libby gave her a look. “Exactly. He can think it’s serious all he wants. He gives nice gifts.”

  Janelle shook her head. “You’re a heartbreaker, Libby.”

  The two cousins walked inside, the house relatively quiet still. In the next two hours, the family room to the left would be filled with cousins, aunts and uncles, and family friends, all carrying on pockets of animated conversation. This room was the most recent renovation, added a decade ago and furnished with an eclectic mix of pull-out sofas, recliners, and a corner card table. The bonus this time of year was the beautiful fir tree prominently displayed, with tons of gifts already wrapped and under its branches.

  Through the far window, Janelle could see her kids. Must’ve run through the house and out another door to hang with their grandpa and Libby’s dad, Uncle Wood. Al was the only one in the family room, watching something on television.

  He got up and smiled as they entered. “I’ve seen pictures, but now I get to see ‘the twins’ live and in color.”

  The same age and inseparable at family gatherings, Janelle and Libby had been dubbed “the twins” as youngsters. But it was especially fitting since their parents really were twins—Janelle’s mom and Libby’s dad.

  Libby put her cheek next to her cousin’s, grinning. “Don’t we look exactly alike?”

  “Uh . . .” Al turned his head sideways for a different angle, trying to mesh Libby’s light brown skin and super-short cut with Janelle’s maple brown skin and shoulder-length locks. “You’re both beautiful, how’s that?”

  Janelle laughed. “I like you already.”

  He gave her a friendly embrace. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Janelle said. “So you live in the Raleigh—”

  “I know Janelle didn’t come in this house and has yet to step in this kitchen.”

  “Uh-oh.” Janelle turned toward the sound of the voice. Her aunt Gladys was calling her out.

  “Come on in here, girl.”

  Janelle looked sheepish on purpose as she slow-walked down the hall, seeing them all waiting for her—her mother and Aunt Gladys, and Libby’s mom, Aunt Denise. Each had her hands in something, a mixing bowl, a pot or pan. Every burner on the stove was lit, and casserole dishes and desserts lined the counter. But busy as they were, their eyes fixed on her. Janelle knew exactly what they were about to give her—equal parts hug and loving rebuke.

  Aunt Gladys, apron tied around her waist, walked away from her pot and held her arms open, scolding in the embrace. “Miss Jan, you know you had no business staying gone for two years. You need your family.” Aunt Gladys was the oldest sister in the family, and never one to mince words.

  Janelle’s mom, Estelle, took a pan of homemade rolls from the oven. “Told her a million times, Gladys—‘You don’t run from your family in trying times, you run to them.’ ” She closed the oven and hugged her daughter.

  Janelle gave her mom the eye as she went to hug Aunt Denise. “I wasn’t running from family. I’ve seen you and Dad a lot, and Libby might as well have moved in.” She looked over at her cousin, who’d followed her into the kitchen. “Right, Libby?”

  “Don’t look to me for help.” She folded her arms. “I’ve been telling you the same thing.”

  Estelle began smoothing frosting over a three-tiered cake. “It’s not the same, Jan, and you know it.”

  “Mom, the world didn’t end because I missed two reunions.”

  “Janelle Evans, I’m gonna put you over my knee and spank you.”

  Grandma Geri had come in from a side door, toting a laundry basket filled with sheets. The family had gotten her a dryer years ago, but she said certain things didn’t feel right unless they hung on her laundry line.

  “Momma, all these people around here . . . why are you carrying that basket yourself?” Aunt Gladys went to take it from her. “Please sit down and take it easy.”

  “Chile, I’m fine. Let me hug my long-lost granddaughter.” Grandma Geri set the basket down and started coughing.

  She’d always had a commanding presence in Janelle’s eyes—tall, relatively fit for her age, always moving and doing. Janelle wasn’t sure she’d
ever seen her under the weather. She saw her mom and Aunt Gladys look at one another as the cough persisted. Janelle got a glass of water and took it to her. “Grandma, you okay? Let’s sit down.”

  “I’ll be”—the cough got deeper—“fine in a minute. Thank you.” She took the glass and sipped as Janelle led her to a seat at the kitchen table.

  “Momma, if you don’t call Doc Reynolds, I will,” Aunt Gladys said. “Sounds like you got bronchitis or something.”

  “I’ll be all right.” Grandma Geri took a long sip.

  “I’m with Gladys,” Estelle said. “You’ve got that nasty cough and shortness of breath. Doesn’t make any sense to—”

  “Estelle and Gladys, if y’all don’t stop worrying me . . .”

  Janelle steered a different direction, smiling big at her grandmother. “So you want to spank me now? You already gave me a talking-to over the phone.”

  “Sounds to me like you didn’t get it.” The cough was dying down. She cupped Janelle’s hand. “I know it ain’t easy with David gone, and I been praying for you and the kids . . .” She tightened her grip. “But seem like you trying to make it on your own. Let your family love on you.”

  Janelle noted the ears around them. The women had gone back to preparing the food, but those pot lids weren’t clanging as loudly as before. She sighed. “I know, Grandma. Everything’s just been . . . hard, like you said. I don’t even know how to explain.”

  “Sweetheart, what’s to explain? You forgot I lost a husband too?”

  “But you and Grandpa Elwood had decades together. You saw your children grow up, and some of your grandchildren. You walked with him through his illness.” Janelle could feel the emotion rising. “David and I only had seven years. He didn’t even . . . didn’t even get to see Tiffany’s third birthday. He was just gone, and I was all alone.”

  She saw it flash through her mind, all of it still surreal. The call that David had collapsed on the court in a friendly game of basketball. Finding out he had a heart defect. Not even getting to say good-bye.

  Grandma Geri tugged softly on her hand. “That’s what I’m saying, baby. You’re not alone. You’ve got us and you’ve got Jesus. He’s been with you every single second.”

  Janelle sighed. “I know, Grandma.” Dwelling on it only made her sad.

  The house phone rang, and she was glad for the distraction. Estelle found the cordless phone on the counter.

  “Stephanie? You’re on the ground?”

  Janelle looked at Libby. “Really? Stephanie’s coming?”

  Libby looked at her aunt Estelle, presumably hearing it the first time herself.

  “Right, head east from the airport,” Estelle was saying. “Won’t take more than forty minutes.” She was smiling. “Can’t wait to see you. All right, bye now.”

  “That’s pretty cool,” Libby said. “I can’t remember the last time Stephanie was here. What made her decide to come?”

  “Gladys got everybody thinking I’m at death’s door, that’s what,” Grandma Geri said.

  “Momma, I said nothing of the kind.” Aunt Gladys was mixing another kind of cake. “But I’m the only one of your children who lives nearby and sees you regularly. So if you want to sue me for telling everybody I’m concerned, then go ahead.”

  “If it got Stephanie down here, I ain’t complaining,” Grandma Geri said. “Talk about long-lost granddaughters.”

  “Are Uncle Bruce and the rest coming?” Janelle asked.

  “Bruce and Claudia are spending the holiday with Cyd’s family,” Aunt Gladys said. She smiled. “They were all here for the family reunion this summer.”

  Aunt Denise was shaping her famous homemade rolls and placing them on a pan. “You should’ve seen that little baby boy. Cute as a button.” She glanced toward the family room, then looked at her daughter. “At the rate Libby’s going, Wood and I will probably have to wait as long as Bruce and Claudia did for a grandchild.”

  “Or longer.” Libby leaned against the counter. “I’m only thirty-four. Lots of life ahead.”

  “Seeing Cyd with a baby for the first time in her forties . . .” Grandma Geri waved her hand with a little chuckle. “If that didn’t tickle me pink, I don’t know what would. She’s my oldest grandchild, you know.”

  “We know.”

  Janelle and Libby laughed at their simultaneous response. Cyd, with all of her professional accomplishments, had always been held up as a model for the younger cousins. Janelle wondered what that must’ve been like for Stephanie growing up.

  Estelle pulled a jumbo pan of baked beans out of the oven.

  “So looks like everyone’s coming here after the funeral,” Janelle said.

  “We told Todd we’d take care of everything.” Her mother placed the pan on two trivets. “He’s got enough on his mind.”

  Todd was Jim Dillon’s son. About the same age as Janelle and Libby, he was part of the cohort of kids that had played in the summers when the Sanders grandchildren visited.

  “How’s he holding up?” Janelle asked.

  “Holding up okay, far as I can see,” Estelle said. “You know Todd. He was more concerned about how Momma was doing, now that Jim’s not around to see about her.”

  “Sounds like Todd,” Janelle said. “I was hoping to see him before the funeral, but looked like nobody was home.”

  “He’s pulling up right now.” Libby was looking out the kitchen window. “He and the kids went over to the church.”

  “Where’s Becca?”

  “What did Todd say? Nashton or something?” Grandma Geri said.

  “Nashville,” Aunt Gladys called over her shoulder.

  Janelle chuckled. Her grandmother was known for confusing the endings to place names.

  “Anyway,” Grandma Geri said, “Becca will be here. She’s doing some kind of presentation and had a meeting this morning to get ready for it.”

  “It’s a little more than that, Momma.” Estelle smiled over at her. “Todd said she was just added as a speaker with some women’s conference—what’s the name of it?—something about purpose.”

  “Worth & Purpose?” Janelle got up to get some water for herself. “I went a few years ago when they came to D.C. Becca’s speaking with them? That’s awesome.”

  “What’s Worth & Purpose?” Libby asked.

  “It’s a national Christian women’s conference,” Janelle said. “One of the biggest. I’m sure there are tons of women who’d love the opportunity to speak on that platform. Becca must be pumped.” Janelle sipped some of her water and placed her glass in the sink. “I’m going to talk to Todd before it gets too hectic.”

  Suddenly she was glad she’d come. The entire road trip she’d been focused on her own loss, and only now gave real consideration to Todd’s. Hard to believe both of his parents were gone. His dad was her mom’s age . . .

  And the surprising news that Stephanie was coming . . . A few years younger than she and Libby, Stephanie had always been something of an enigma, hanging in the shadows of her sister. But that was when she was a teenager. It had been years since Janelle had seen her.

  Yes, now that she was here, Hope Springs seemed the only place she should be.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Becca Dillon took a window seat near the front of the plane, tossed her tote bag into the middle, and reached inside for her iPad.

  “You’re awesome, Patti. Can’t believe how quickly you’ve done all this for me.” She held her phone in the crook of her neck as she powered up the iPad, bottle-blond hair falling in front of her face.

  “I’m glad I caught you before the plane took off,” Patti said. “I couldn’t wait for you to see.”

  “I hope I have time while everyone’s boarding.” Becca opened her e-mail and waited for the messages to download. “So you think the pictures turned out well?”

  “Fabulous. You’re a natural, girl. Even the test shots to get the lighting right turned out well.”

  “Here it is,” Becca said, hunkering d
own. “Wow, this is a lot. Hope I have time to click through all these attachments.”

  She glanced up, glad the aisle was still crowded with passengers.

  “Ooh, look at the sky on this first one,” she said. “You picked the perfect location.” She and Patti had spent two hours at the Missouri Botanical Gardens yesterday. “I look kinda goofy on that one, though.”

  “Oh, you do not. You were about to ask a question as I snapped. Looks cute and inquisitive to me.”

  Becca opened the next. “Ah, the one on the boulder where I’m smiling and looking to the side? I like that.”

  “That’s my favorite,” Patti said. “That wind-in-the-hair shows your personality, looks like you’re having fun.”

  A woman took the aisle seat in her row. Becca lowered her volume. “What about this serious-looking one? I like it, but . . .” She stared at it. “Not sure what it says.”

  “Says, ‘I’m a Bible teacher, a serious one.’” Patti said it in a serious voice.

  Becca laughed.

  “This is a full flight to Raleigh-Durham,” the flight attendant announced. “Please take the first available seat so we can push back and get on our way.”

  Becca moved her bag from the middle and put it under the seat in front of her. “How will I narrow this down?” She kept clicking through. “You’ve managed to make me look half decent in more than a few of these.” She smiled. “You really are good.”

  In the blink of an eye, it seemed, Becca’s life had kicked into another gear. In a matter of weeks she’d be taking the stage with Worth & Purpose, and her redesigned blog was about to go live. Suddenly she needed professional photos for marketing materials and the blog banner, and she didn’t want to use the boring studio picture she’d taken more than three years ago.

  Becca had known Patti for years. They’d served together on a local not-for-profit board in St. Louis, and she’d heard Patti had a reputation for capturing beautiful, natural shots. These photos were even better than she’d hoped.

  “Okay,” Becca said, “so if I send you my choices right after Christmas—not trying to rush you or anything—” She knew Patti would have to enhance the lighting and anything else her photographer’s eye deemed necessary.