The Color of Hope

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Wednesday, October 6





Charley walked in from a long and heart-wrenching day at school, their first since the tragedy. On her way upstairs to her room, she heard animated voices in the kitchen and stopped. Sounded like her mom and Grandpa Skip were going at it with Ben. No telling what the latest was. She went to see.

“How could you be so stupid?” Grandpa Skip was saying. “You’ve ruined your life. You know that, don’t you? Bad enough you were expelled from school, football future gone. Now this? Your life is over.”

Ben sat slumped at the kitchen table, arms crossed, legs fully extended, saying nothing.

“Son, what do you have to say about this?” Dottie said. “Tell us you have a defense. Tell us it’s not what it seems.”

Ben cut his eyes over at her. “I don’t know what you want me to say. It is what it is, Mom.”

Charley was standing in the middle of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

Her mom turned to her. “Your brother’s attorney just left. Apparently the video that was confiscated from Ben’s room clearly shows him forcing himself upon that girl despite her pleas for him to stop.” She looked at Ben. “Of course he edited all of that out when he posted it online. Oh, and the other nice revelation was that he’d recorded himself and Kelsey too.” She eyed her son. “Probably the same night he claimed they were only watching a movie.”

“You are an absolute idiot,” Grandpa Skip said. “You filmed your own crime. You handed them evidence against you.”

Ben was stoic, refusing to look at him.

Charley joined them at the table. “So what happens now?”

“Lawyer’s talking plea agreement,” Dottie said. “But Ben will likely still have to serve several years.”

“I don’t know if we give up like that, though,” Grandpa Skip said. “I believe in fighting to the bitter end.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Skip,” Dottie said. “If he takes it to trial, he’ll get nailed. It’ll be about more than the sexual assault. It’ll be about the video and the suicide. They’ll throw the book at him.” Her head fell in her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening. It’s an absolute nightmare.” She looked at Charley. “We got more hateful phone calls today from area codes all over the country. I don’t even know how they’re getting our number. I’m afraid for Ben’s life.”

“That Stephanie London’s to blame, if you ask me,” Skip said. “How did she get a voice in this thing, anyway? The minute she started carrying on about this girl’s life, the media blew it up into a big sympathetic story.” He looked up at the television in the kitchen where the news was on but the sound turned down. “Why do you keep this on? It’s maddening.”

“I want to hear what they’re saying,” Dottie said. “I’m moved by this poor girl’s story. We’re saying Ben’s life is ruined. At least he’s still got a life.” She turned to Ben. “How could you do that to her?”

Skip stared at her. “This is not the time to get emotional, Dottie. We’ve got to stay focused on the task at hand—”

“Well, what exactly is the task at hand, Skip?” Dottie said. “Protect Ben at all cost? Or no, protect the family. Right? Because everything’s justifiable if done in the name of protecting family. Even threatening a young man’s life with a gun to his face.”

“I told you I only showed him the gun.”

Charley was ready to get up and leave. She couldn’t bear to hear any justification for what he’d done.

“Showing the gun was despicable enough,” Dottie said. “But I’m sorry, I have a hard time believing your version of the events after talking to Marcus.”

“What?” Charley turned to her mother. “When did you talk to Marcus?”

“I met with him at the school today,” Dottie said. “And that was after I met with Pastor Todd.”

Skip looked incensed. “Now wait a minute, Dottie. Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Dottie gave an exasperated sigh. “What I’m doing is getting a handle on my family.” Her voice broke. “For too long, I looked to you to lead this family in George’s stead. I trusted you. But my eyes are opened now, Skip. You haven’t even led Calvary well.” She looked pained. “I talked to Todd about the decision to remove you as elder—”

“Which they won’t get away with,” Skip said.

“And he gave me an earful about a visit you paid to his granddad over thirty years ago. Remember that? About the relationship between Todd’s father, Jim, and Gwynn Sanders next door?”

“Of course I remember it. What about it?”

“What about it? You said the relationship had to end. And it worked, Skip. It ended. And do you know what the result was?”

Skip only looked at her.

“The result was that Gwynn left, had her baby up north, and neither she nor her daughter have had any real relationship with the rest of their family.”

Skip’s expression was dismissive. “Surely Todd doesn’t have a problem with the fact that I intervened. If it weren’t for me, his dad and Gwynn would’ve gotten married, and Todd would’ve never been born.”

The look in her mom’s eyes was one Charley had never seen. “That’s just it, Skip. It’s not up to you to determine people’s futures. I guess you think it all worked out just fine that Charley and Marcus broke up. So what if you threatened a man’s life to make it happen.”

Charley had to interject. “What happened with you and Marcus?”

“I asked for his side of the story,” Dottie said, “and despite what he’d been through, he was calm and respectful. Said he’d never had a moment of fear like that in his life, gun aimed at his temple, his life at the mercy of another.”

“Give me a break. It wasn’t that dramatic.” Skip looked away. “I never would’ve pulled the trigger.”

Dottie threw up her hands. “So you’re admitting you aimed it at him?” She sighed and turned back to Charley. “Sweetheart, I apologized to Marcus, and I’m apologizing to you, for my part. He seems to be a wonderful man. I’m sorry for not embracing him from the start. Maybe the two of you could’ve weathered all of this if you’d had more support.”

Charley had thought the same herself. “I appreciate that, Mom, but I don’t know. Maybe I was being naïve to think it could work.”

The television screen caught her eye. “Hey, look, there’s Stephanie.” Charley looked for the remote. “I haven’t caught her on TV yet.”

Skip groaned. “I’m heading home.”

Charley found it and turned it up.

“You had gotten close to her in the last two months of her life,” the reporter was saying.

The camera had a close shot of him with Stephanie, but Charley could tell they were in front of Sam’s house.

“Yes, that’s right.” Stephanie faced the reporter. “I was a substitute teacher at the high school, and the very first day we had lunch together. A little while after that, she began spending time at my home.”

“When we see her picture with that infectious smile and that gorgeous curly hair, it’s hard to believe she was apparently quiet, shy, and practically friendless. What drew you to her?”

“This is so wild,” Charley muttered. “Stephanie’s on CNN.”

Stephanie smiled at the memory. “At first my heart went out to her because she was alone,” she said. “But as I got to know her, and she started coming out of her shell, and that infectious smile turned to infectious laughter, I fell in love with that girl. And what I loved about her was she didn’t mind being a girl, acting silly, playing dolls with younger girls. She was just . . . so sweet . . .” She fought the emotion. “I’m sorry. You’d think I’d stop getting choked up talking about her.”

“Not at all,” the reporter said. “Her story moves me, and I never met her.” He paused. “I’d love for you to share with us the special way you’re remembering her.”

“And I’d love to do so,” Stephanie said. “Sam’s mom was kind in allowing me to learn even more of Sam’s heart through her journal.” She held it up. “In it Sam wrote that she wished the two churches in town had continued their joint services, because she felt a sense of belonging there. If you don’t mind, I’d like to read a short quote.”

“Absolutely,” the reporter said.

“’I don’t know a lot about how these things work, but it doesn’t seem like it should be a hard thing for Christians to come together. Why couldn’t there be unity?’” Stephanie closed the journal, and her hand went to a red ribbon on her chest. “So in honor of Sam, we’re wearing these unity ribbons. It would be easy for a town to be forever fractured after a tragedy like this, to carry hatred toward certain individuals, to cling to division. Instead, we’re praying for people to honor God by coming together.” She smiled. “And we chose red because it was Sam’s favorite color.”

The reporter nodded at Stephanie, then looked directly at the camera. “And Sam is being remembered another way. When people heard she still slept with a teddy bear at night, they began leaving teddy bears on the front stoop, which has spilled over into the yard.” The camera shifted to a wide angle, revealing an abundance of bears and flowers. The reporter picked one up. “A note on this bear reads, ‘Sam, I wish I had sat with you at lunch.’” The reporter looked visibly moved as he sent it back to the studio.

Charley wiped a tear.

“Excuse me.” Dottie rose from the table, looking shaken, and left.

Charley heard sniffing and looked across the table. Ben’s head was down, his shoulders heaving. She went and sat beside him.

“Ben? You wanna talk?”

“I did that to her,” he said. “I did that to her!”

He slung a pile of papers across the table and onto the floor and got up, fists balled, looking like he wanted to beat the air. Instead, he opened a drawer just to slam it shut. Then he picked up a glass and cocked it back—

“Ben, stop!” She ran over to him. “Put that down. It’s okay, Ben. Put it down.”

He lowered the glass and himself to the floor. “I did that to her . . .” His whole being sobbed. “I was drunk, Charley. I’m not making excuses. But I was drunk and thinking how I could get Kelsey back.” He didn’t bother to stop the tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt Sam. But that’s the bad part. I don’t think I even thought about it. I used her. I hurt her.” He turned tortured eyes toward Charley. “I thought I was hiding her identity when I edited the video. I didn’t mean for it to . . .” He threw his head back with a groan. “Mom was right. My life might be ruined, but at least I’ve got a life. I don’t care what happens to me, Charley. I don’t care.”

She held him, rocking her football-playing brother back and forth like a baby. So many words sat poised on her tongue, ready to shoot at him, ready to agree that every foul thing he thought about himself was true. But she stifled those words.

She would simply hold him and cry with him.