Hope Springs

by Kim Cash Tate

  He’d parked on a different street around the corner. Leading the way, he went to the driver’s side, opened it, and unlocked the other door so she could get in. He started the engine, turned on the heat, and looked straight ahead.

  “You won’t even look at me, Kory?”

  “Why do you want to postpone the hearing?”

  Shelley sighed. “Martin and I are no longer together.”

  He looked at her. “What does that have to do with the hearing?”

  “Kory, I feel like you’re being so cold toward me.”

  He stared at her, awaiting an answer.

  She looked down at the handbag in her lap. “He decided to go back to his wife. And he chose to wait until a week before the hearing when I had completely planned our trip to the justice of the peace and a celebration afterward, and after everyone in litigation had been made aware.” She blew out a breath. “I was humiliated. Stayed out of the office all week, and I don’t know if I’m going back.”

  “I’m sorry, Shelley,” he said. “I must be slow. I got nowhere in that story any illumination as to what it has to do with our divorce hearing.”

  Shelley looked out the passenger window, then back down at her bag. “It was like everything you’ve ever said came back to haunt me. You told me the things I was chasing after would leave me empty, and it was true. You told me I’d find out that Jesus is who I really need.” She looked up at him. “And now I know how true that is too.”

  “All of a sudden you’ve seen the light.” He nodded. “Okay. That’s wonderful.”

  “Kory, I have. I . . . I see how wrong I was. What I did to you . . . to our family . . . I’ve never apologized, but I’m sorry.”

  Am I in the Twilight Zone?

  “Shelley, God has already brought me to the place where I can forgive you. I accept your apology.” He paused. “And really I wish you well on your newfound spiritual journey. That’s an awesome thing.”

  “Well.” She took more than a few seconds to continue. “I had hoped we could share the journey . . . That’s why I wanted to postpone the hearing, so we could talk about maybe reconciling.”

  His incredulity was so great he almost laughed. “You . . . want to talk about reconciling? You can’t be serious.”

  “I knew you would respond that way, especially after what I did to you and the way I’ve behaved since. But, Kory, I know you understand that people can change. I’ve changed. I’m not the person I was before.” She touched his arm when he looked away. “I know you loved me at one time. I know you believe in reconciliation, because you tried to reconcile after I left. I’m asking you now to give us another chance.”

  Kory looked her squarely in the face. “You’re right. I did try to reconcile. I was willing to forgive you for the affair and try to rebuild our marriage for the sake of our family. You laughed in my face, more than once, and I finally had to move on.” He adjusted the heat down. “So, no, Shelley, I’m not interested in giving it a chance. My plans are to proceed with the divorce hearing tomorrow.”

  “Will you think about it overnight?”

  “There’s nothing to think about.”

  She was silent. Then, “Can I spend time with Dee today?”

  “Of course you can. As much time as you’d like.”

  “That was Janelle you were sitting with in there, wasn’t it?”

  “It was.”

  Shelley looked away.

  “Sermon’s probably almost over,” Kory said, “but I’d like to go back in. You’re welcome to do the same. We can talk afterward about plans for Dee.”

  She nodded.

  Kory turned off the engine, got out of the car, and shut his door. He waited for Shelley to get out, clicked the remote lock, and walked back inside.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Janelle felt her heart breaking into a million tiny pieces.

  She’d heard what happened with Shelley, and she’d heard Kory’s response. But she could also hear what God was saying deep inside. And it was killing her.

  “Janelle, I don’t understand why you’re upset.” Kory gently pushed the hair from her face and wiped her tears. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  As much as she’d tried to hold them back, her emotions had reached the point of no return. A steady stream of tears fell as they sat on Grandma Geri’s back porch swing. How could she convey what was in her heart when she barely understood it . . . and certainly didn’t like it?

  She tried again to collect herself. “You know I’ve been praying for her. I’ve been praying for God to get hold of her heart, help her see that what she did was wrong, and set her on a new path in Christ. And that’s just what you’re saying has happened.”

  Kory gestured with his hands. “No, I’m saying that’s what she’s saying has happened. Shelley is a con artist. I learned that the hard way. She knows what to say and how to say it. I believe she was truthful about one thing—she was humiliated. And now to save face she wants to show the world, ‘I didn’t want Martin anyway. I wanted my family back all along.’ ” He added, “She also doesn’t like that her relationship with Martin fell apart, yet she sees me building one with someone else.”

  “I know she’s been all the things you’ve said. But who’s to say she hasn’t changed? Redemption is possible for us all.”

  “You’re right, and I’m not saying there’s no way she could’ve changed. But I am mindful of her history, so it’s hard for me to believe it simply because she says it.” He focused on Janelle. “But even if I believe she’s changed, I don’t see why you’re upset.”

  “Because I feel like you need to go back to her.”

  “What?”

  “Kory, she’s saying she’s changed and wants her family back. God is a God of grace and mercy and second chances—”

  “Yes. And He can be that to her, without me.”

  “But what if He wants her to experience that through you.” Saying it made her heart hurt more.

  “Janelle, if God wanted me to reconcile with Shelley, don’t you think He would tell me? Don’t you think He would give me the desire?”

  “Did you pray about it?”

  “I can’t count the number of times I prayed about it.”

  “I don’t mean all the months prior. After you talked to her today?”

  “No. I have a peace about moving on.”

  “That’s just it, Kory. That’s what’s upsetting me. Because I don’t have a peace about moving on. I don’t want to be what stands in the way of God healing your marriage.” Emotion welled afresh. “I feel like I have to let you go . . . before we’ve had a chance to really be together.”

  Kory closed his eyes, hands clasped atop his head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. This can’t be happening, not when we’re so close . . .” He got up and walked to the edge of the porch. “Why did she have to show up today? Why is she still messing up my life?”

  Silence engulfed them as he looked out at the horizon. Janelle couldn’t believe this was happening either. She’d felt like a schoolgirl dreaming about their first date tomorrow night. She’d even written a journal entry this morning, thanking God for the special man David was and acknowledging that no one could take his place—but thanking Him also for allowing her heart to expand far enough to give someone else a place. She knew David would want her to enjoy the companionship of another man. It seemed so perfect that that man would be Kory, the one she had dreamed about so long ago.

  Kory came to her and took her hand, lifting her out of the swing. He put his arms around her and held her. “I never told you this,” he said, his voice a soft caress, “but after spending that first weekend with you, after that long walk on the last night and that kiss, I knew I had fallen in love with you.” His lips brushed her face as he spoke. “It may have been silly and immature. It may have been just for that moment in time. But I loved you. And deep within me lodged the thought that one day we would be together.”

  Fresh tears st
reamed down Janelle’s face.

  “We grew up, we lost touch, we got married,” he said, “and I let the thought go. But it returned when I saw you again at the funeral. And I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but those same feelings from that night returned as if it were yesterday.” He lifted her face with his finger. “Janelle, I love you.”

  “That’s why it hurts, Kory. Because I love you too.”

  He brought her close, and she could feel his tears on her cheek. They stayed that way forever it seemed, afraid of what would happen when they let go.

  “What if I pray, and I still don’t feel God is telling me to reconcile? What if I go forward with the divorce tomorrow? What then?”

  “I don’t know. I just know I have to give you the space to do whatever God wants you to do. If you go through with the divorce . . . if the reconciliation doesn’t happen . . . I can’t think beyond right now.”

  “We might still have our first date tomorrow night.”

  “Don’t, Kory.” She couldn’t set her heart on it. She looked into his eyes. “Promise you’ll pray. Ask God His will. And whatever happens, we’ll trust Him.”

  He sighed. “I’m having such a hard time with this, but I can do that. I promise I’ll pray today, tonight, tomorrow morning. And we’ll trust.”

  They lingered minutes more in the embrace. Finally Kory sighed again. “I guess I need to go.”

  Janelle couldn’t speak. Certainly couldn’t bring herself to say the word good-bye. She simply memorized the feel of his arms around her.

  He slowly pulled away, kissed her cheek, and was gone.

  “Have you flippin’ lost your mind?” Libby had jumped up from the sofa and started pacing as if ready to right a wrong. “Tell me you’ve been inhaling meds at the hospital. Because that’s the only explanation for sending that man back to his wife.”

  Janelle had come into the family room and collapsed on the sofa, her head resting on the arm. She spoke from the crook of her own arm. “I didn’t send him back to his wife. You could say I sent Him to the Lord to ask what to do about his wife.” She wanted to cry again. “I told him to ask God His will.”

  Libby came and stood directly in front of her. “You. Are. Crazy.” She plunked down with a sigh on the sofa beside her. “I don’t even know what else to say.”

  “Ummm . . . yeah, I’m having a hard time connecting the dots on this one,” Stephanie said. “He wants to be with you. You want to be with him. You’re looking kinda crazy to me too.”

  “Everything in me wants to call him back,” Janelle admitted. “Maybe I have lost my mind.” She sat straight up. “I’m calling him.”

  “No, Janelle.” Becca had put Claire and Ethan down for a Sunday nap—along with Todd—and come to watch a movie with them. “You haven’t lost your mind. You said you felt God wanted you to step back and give their marriage a chance. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with Him. You wanted His will. How can that be cra—”

  She stopped speaking, and Janelle looked up at her.

  Becca rose from the recliner. “That’s it.” She stared into the distance. “Just like that.”

  “What?” Janelle said.

  A fresh energy started Becca pacing in front of them. “I haven’t been able to let go of that verse we heard yesterday at the diner—‘Before honor comes humility.’ Came home, looked up verses about humility . . . but it was like, whatever I was supposed to get was out here somewhere.” She circled her hands in the air, then looked at Janelle. “And then I heard myself saying it to you.”

  “Okay, Janelle might understand what you’re saying, but I’m not following.” Stephanie shifted on the sofa. “You gotta break it down for a sista.”

  “Uh, I’m not following either actually,” Janelle said.

  “Okay.” Becca was pacing again. “You know how the woman yesterday said we’re most like Christ when we’re humble? He emptied Himself, it says in Philippians, and God wants us to empty ourselves and be filled with Him . . . that’s humility.”

  She sat back down on the edge of the recliner. “When I told Janelle that what she did had nothing to do with her and everything to do with God, that’s when it hit me. For her it wasn’t about self. And it seems so unusual that someone would do that because, well, we all tend to be about self . . . I know I am.” She sighed.

  “I was focused on what being part of Worth & Purpose would do for me and my ministry. It was tempting to get caught up in the feeling that I was ‘somebody’ now, just because of the numbers . . . as if God didn’t value all ministry the same.” She shook her head. “What Sara Ann is doing in a diner in Hope Springs, North Carolina, is powerful ministry. What you all are doing for your grandmother is powerful ministry. Janelle, what you just showed us in that selfless act with Kory is powerful ministry . . . I’m ashamed that I thought of one as ‘bigger’ and more important than another.”

  “The best part, Becca,” Janelle said, “is now you see God’s purpose in it all. It wasn’t that He wasn’t answering your prayer. He had a better blessing to draw you closer to Him.”

  “So basically . . .” Stephanie was pondering. “You’re saying Worth & Purpose was your boot camp experience like Hope Springs was mine.”

  “And Kory was mine.” Janelle sighed.

  Libby groaned. “I still think it’s crazy. If I had a man half as good as Kory . . .”

  “You’d do what?” Janelle asked. “Commit?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “What would you do?”

  “Maybe I’d think about committing.”

  “What about Travis?” Stephanie said. “If you ask me, he still cares about you.”

  Libby was quiet. “He’s a pastor. He has to.”

  Stephanie looked at her. “You know what I mean.”

  Libby stared downward for a long while. “Even if he did care, he couldn’t act on it. I’m not . . . I’m not someone he could commit to. I don’t live that type of life.”

  Janelle hadn’t seen this vulnerable side of Libby in a long time. “Libby, what are you saying?”

  Libby shrugged. “I’ve been intimate with other men, and I can’t even talk like it’s in the past. He needs a godly woman, and that’s not . . . me.” She shrugged again. “Which is fine. Can you picture me with a pastor? Small-town pastor at that? Please.”

  Janelle knew better and was struck by one thing—she and her cousin were on two different paths, living totally different lives, yet found themselves in the same place . . . each unable to have the one man her heart desired.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Thursday, February 11

  Janelle and Kory didn’t get their first date Monday night. She knew what time the court hearing had been scheduled for—ten thirty a.m.—and she’d watched the hospital clock attentively. Kory was there, she just knew it. He would call or text her afterward to let her know he’d prayed and had a peace still about going forward. He and Shelley were officially over.

  Eleven o’clock came, then eleven thirty, then three o’clock as they drove out of the hospital parking lot. By nightfall, she’d swung to the exact opposite—he and Shelley were back together. And as she awoke Thursday, that’s where she remained.

  Janelle lingered in bed. She had an hour before she needed to awaken Daniel for school. Grandma Geri had finished her third round of chemo and had an appointment with her oncologist late morning. Janelle hadn’t heard her stirring yet. She had an urge to write in her journal.

  From under the covers, she turned on her bedside lamp, hoping she wouldn’t wake Stephanie in the other bed. She reached for the journal on the nightstand, opened it, and took the pen from inside. She turned to the last page on which she’d written, skipped a line, and wrote the date—February 11—and waited for words to spill from her heart.

  Dear God,

  It seems so strange to write to You about another man. For the last two years these pages have filled with the ups and downs of life without David . . . mostly the d
owns, as You know. But this morning, Lord, I really need to talk to someone about Kory. And You’re the only One who can understand because You understand me better than anyone.

  You know how deeply I feel, how much I like to reflect. You know how I love to dream even as I project the practical, commonsense side of myself. When Libby and Steph and Becca asked how I was doing this week, I told the truth. By Your grace I felt strengthened to move on again. But that wasn’t the whole truth. How could I tell them that from that short period of life with Kory, I had something to mourn?

  Janelle wiped her tears with the sleeve of her pajama top. She didn’t care how much she cried. She wanted to cry. If she let all her tears out now, maybe they’d be done.

  But, Lord, You know . . . I dreamed of our lives becoming one. I dreamed of our families becoming one. I saw in Kory a father for Daniel, and in Daniel a son for Kory. I dreamed of being a second mother to Dee, and oh how I dreamed of Dee and Tiffany as sisters. I could see that, Lord, the two of them growing up together, in the same classes, sharing clothes and shoes, talking into the night. I saw Kory as the strong man Tiffany will need in her life, a man who will love her unconditionally so that she’ll have no need to seek pseudo love from an immature boy.

  And, Lord, I dreamed of Kory as my husband. I knew he still belonged to someone else, and You know how hard I tried not to think it. I would’ve never told him that. But in those unguarded moments of my soul, I dreamed of knowing his every mood, what he’s like on lazy days around the house, how much he whines when he’s sick. I dreamed of being his wife, of loving him with abandon and revealing myself without reservation.

  And now, Lord, once again I must mourn—this time the loss of a dream. The loss of what almost was. It would seem almost silly if my heart weren’t aching so.

  She picked a tissue from the box and dabbed her face and another to blow her nose.

  But, Lord, as much as it hurts, I pray Your best for Kory and Shelley. I pray that You heal their marriage. Renew their hopes and dreams and establish them. Be the bridge that leads them back to a strong connection of the heart. And sweet little Dee . . . thank You for returning her mother to her. I pray that you bond them as mother and daughter.