The Color of Hope

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 she 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?”

“And a basketball player.”

She tried to swat him again, but he grabbed her hand and held it.

“It’s nice,” he said, “being friends again.”

The touch of his hand stirred even more butterflies. “It is.”

Neither broke the stare, and Libby could almost feel his arms pulling her close. And that kiss that used to drive her crazy. But he dropped her hand and stepped back, reminding her—that was the old Travis. She and “Pastor Travis” could be no more than friends.

He slipped on his shoes.

“Where are you going?” Libby asked.

“With you. Those Wheaties wore off an hour ago.”