The Color of Hope

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Sunday, October 3





Charley knocked hard on Marcus’s door early Sunday morning. “Come on, Marcus,” she muttered, “you have to be home. Answer.”

She’d knocked twice already, and in the interim, what had been a steady rain was starting to blow in gusts, pelting her even as she stood on the covered porch. The two of them hadn’t yet had a real one-on-one conversation. With yesterday’s tragedy, there was more than enough to keep them occupied, talking past one another. She had no way of knowing where their own relationship stood. But would he leave her out here?

She heard footsteps, and the door opened. Marcus had on long gym shorts and a wrinkled shirt, and looked as if he was trying to get his bearings.

“How long have you been knocking?” he asked.

“A few minutes.”

He took her hand and helped her inside. “Wait a minute.”

He ran upstairs and returned with a towel, handing it to her.

“Thanks.” She dried her face and hair.

“It’s seven in the morning, Charley. What’s going on?”

“Ben was arrested less than an hour ago.”

“What? For what? Something with that video?”

“Well . . .” It was hard to say. “He’s been charged with sexual assault.”

Marcus ran his hands down his face. “They’re saying this was rape, what was in the video?”

“Marcus, I feel terrible. I should’ve seen it.” The thought of it pained her. “I knew there was no good reason for Sam to be at my house late Friday night. But she didn’t look like anything was wrong. She simply asked for a ride home. And I was distracted with the police and my grandpa. So I called Steph to come get her.”

“Where was Ben?” He took the towel from her and threw it on a step.

“Sleeping. Can you believe that? He’d fallen asleep.” She was disgusted by even the little pieces of the story. “I don’t know, Marcus. If I had known, we could’ve dealt with it right then and prevented all the other . . .” She closed her eyes. Yesterday was still so hard.

Marcus led her into the kitchen, and they sat at the table.

“You can’t beat yourself up over this,” he said. “Who reported the crime?”

“I called Steph before I came here. Apparently Sam told her Friday night but swore her to secrecy. Steph even took her to the police station, but Sam wouldn’t talk. But once she . . .” She blew out a sad breath. “Anyway, Stephanie told her mother at the hospital and left it in her hands. Teri called the police.”

Marcus sat back, taking it all in. “How did the arrest go down?”

“No negotiations or calls beforehand this time,” Charley said. “Two officers banged on the door with a warrant for Ben’s arrest. And they confiscated his computer and other equipment.”

“How did your mom react?”

“She broke down, said Ben would never do that, then the next minute berated Ben for doing that. I don’t think she’s even grasped everything that’s happened.” Charley sighed. “Really seems like my family is falling apart. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do.”

“You’re a bright light in that family, Charley. They need you, whether they know it or not.”

She looked at him. “I would think you’d counsel me to keep away from them, after what happened to you.”

“Travis spent two weeks preaching about loving those who are hard to love.” He looked intently at her. “That came to me at the hospital when I thought about how upset I was at your grandfather and at Ben—and I only knew about the video—and at the students I see every day in the halls who wrote foul things on Sam’s wall . . .” He stared off for a moment. “I don’t want to love any of them. But they’d have no hope at all without love—God’s love. That’s what you have to keep showing your family.”

“Right. I can’t even look at Ben. Or my grandpa.”

“Charley, when all is said and done, your brother might be going away for a long time. He’ll lose everything he has and probably every friend he has. Do you know what a difference it’ll make if you’re still in his life?”

Charley was quiet for a moment, then looked at him. “What about you? Are we still in each other’s lives?” She paused. “I wasn’t even sure if I should come here this morning.”

“After your brother’s arrest?” he said. “Of course you should’ve.” He paused. “I admit I needed some space after what happened with your grandfather, but we’re still friends. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Still friends . . . Charley suddenly felt like crying. What more could happen this weekend? “Do you feel like our relationship has shifted?”

Marcus was slow to respond. “I don’t see how it could not have shifted. I saw in very real terms how complicated life can be simply by crossing color lines. We’ve been raised in two different worlds. We have different backgrounds, different backdrops when it comes to analyzing a situation. And you know what else I thought about?”

She fought the tear that brimmed on her lid. “What?”

“What if we got married and had a daughter? She’d be biracial, just like Sam. She might feel like an outcast, just like Sam. Can you imagine?” He shook his head. “I finally see what my mom was saying. Life is hard enough without intentionally complicating it.”

Charley stood, nodding. “So we’re over. Just like that.” The tear spilled.

Marcus went to her. “We’re not over. I’ll always consider you—”

“A friend. Or wait, sister. Back to the beginning.”

“Charley, that’s not fair,” he said. “I wanted it to work. You know I did. I care for you. Life just caved in on us in a big way.”

Charley walked around him, ready to leave, then turned near the door.

“What happened to walking by faith? What happened to trusting God?” She flicked a tear. “I thought this relationship was going to be all about Him. If you ask me, you’re walking by sight.”

Charley walked out, closing the door behind her, relishing the downpour that drenched her. It felt just about right.