The Color of Hope

CHAPTER SIX





Checkered tablecloths and scented candles adorned the picnic tables where the earliest arrivals were already chatting. Music streamed through an iPod connected to speakers that carried sound throughout the backyard. The welcome station—a new feature—was outfitted with a banner across the front that read “Welcome to the Sanders Family Reunion!” And the fried fish was already sizzling in a huge outdoor fryer, the delicious aroma permeating the evening air. The family’s annual gathering had begun—minus one.

It hit Libby as she took it all in on her Grandma Geri’s back porch—for the first time, her grandmother wouldn’t be here. And she’d always been more than here, she’d been central. She and Grandpa Elwood Sanders had started this reunion almost forty years ago. They’d told the story a million times, how it started one year as a tribute to Grandpa Elwood’s parents. Grandpa Elwood and his siblings surprised them by showing up with all of their kids and grandkids. They lamented that they’d never done it before, and Grandpa Elwood decided they wouldn’t let a year go by without getting together. He and Grandma Geri oversaw the planning until they grew older and passed it down. But Grandma Geri remained a central figure, the one who knew every family member who showed up, no matter how distant the relation or how infrequently they came. The void would be palpable.

The screen door opened behind her, and Stephanie poked her head out. “You’re wanted in the lab.”

“I was just on my way in there,” Libby said.

Ever since their parents had arrived in town—Libby’s, Stephanie and Cyd’s, and Janelle’s—the moms, along with Aunt Gladys, had taken over the kitchen, as usual. The girls had taken to calling it “the lab” because these women were serious when it came to cooking up some food.

Stephanie opened the door wider, and she and Libby headed through a living area and around the corner to the kitchen. The aroma indoors was as enticing as the one outside. The women had been baking cakes and cobblers, and had also made several side dishes—boiled potatoes, green beans, potato salad, coleslaw, and rolls. As much planning as Libby had done, she’d be nowhere if she couldn’t count on the love of cooking in her parents’ generation.

Libby’s mom, Denise, saw her walk in. “Sweetheart, you need to get going with the hush puppies.” She was stirring the coleslaw. “You sure you don’t want me to do it? It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Libby folded her arms. “I’m noticing there’s been more than one offer to take this to-do item off my hands. Y’all think they won’t turn out right, don’t you?”

“I’m a little nervous,” her mom said unapologetically. “You rarely cook, and I don’t think you’ve fried anything a day in your life. I don’t know why you’re attempting to tackle this for such a large crowd.”

She wouldn’t be tackling it if it weren’t for Travis. He’d made an offhanded remark that they’d never had hush puppies at the Friday night fish fry, and Libby immediately knew they would be a hit. She’d planned to ask her parents who could do it, the women or perhaps the men, since they could fry them outside while they fried the fish. But Travis had a third option—the two of them. It would be easy enough, he said, though he’d never done it. And it would be fun. Reminded her of the time they tried to fix lasagna while dating and never got further than the noodles that burned. The laughter was almost worth the awful smell.

“It’ll turn out great, you’ll see,” Libby said, half convincing herself.

“When do you plan to mix the ingredients?” Aunt Gladys said. “Everything else is about done.”

“We already did it, in Travis’s kitchen, since the lab was taken.” She made a face. “Had to make Travis and Marcus clean it first, though. Aunt Gladys, have you seen that pigsty they’re living in? I told Marcus I know you taught him better than that. And Travis ought to be ashamed of him—What?”

Aunt Gladys looked amused, her eyes darting beyond Libby.

She turned. Travis had eased into the kitchen with the pans of mix they’d made, already shaped into puppies.

“So you’re doggin’ me behind my back, huh?”

Libby laughed. “No, I’m not. I told you to your face that place was a mess.”

“I’ll come over and clean it top to bottom for you and Marcus,” Aunt Gladys said.

“Aunt Gladys!” Libby’s look chastised her aunt. “That’s their problem, people bailing out the poor bachelors. They need to learn how to clean for themselves.”

Travis nodded at the pans in his arms. “You want to keep lecturing or get these puppies going?”

Libby smiled. “Let’s head out.”

“Holler if you need us,” her mom said.

“We’ll be just fine,” Libby called back.

They went to an area of the backyard in which her dad and Travis had set up a small outdoor fryer earlier, a few feet away from the humongous fryer being used for the fish.

“Hey, look,” Libby said, “Dad’s got us ready to roll. Oil’s piping hot.”

Travis set the pans on a card table and picked up a bag that was sitting on the grass.

“Where’d that come from?” Libby asked.

“I put it over here before I went in the house,” he said.

Travis lifted something out of the bag. Libby wasn’t sure what it was until he slipped one part over his head and proceeded to tie the back. Then her eyes widened.

“You bought a grilling apron?” Libby bit her lip. “You’re serious, huh?”

“You think it’s funny?”

She gave her head an emphatic shake. “Nope.”

“Because if you start clowning me . . .”

“Never.”

“Good. Because you’ve got one too.” He took hers out of the bag. “Turn around.” Travis placed it over her head and tied the back. “Now we’re official.”

Libby looked at him. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. Not just the aprons. Everything.”

“I said I would help you this weekend, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. Anyway, it’s partly selfish. My mouth is already watering for these hush puppies.”

Janelle was walking by as he said it. “As long as you don’t get near the fish, we’re good.”

Travis picked up the tongs and aimed them at her. “Don’t start, Janelle. You should be encouraging my budding skills.”

“Whether they’re budding is yet to be seen.” She came closer, surveying their operation. “And actually, I’m wondering who sanctioned this idea of you and Libby cooking anything in mass amounts for actual people. It’s kind of scary.”

“Everybody’s a naysayer.” Libby wagged her finger at her cousin. “You just wait. You’ll be fighting for seconds.”

“Mm-hm.” Janelle gave them a pointed look. “I’ll give you this. You look cute in the matching aprons.”

“You know it. Team Wood!” Travis bellowed.

Libby’s dad heard and looked over. “That’s right!” He pumped a fist. “Team Wood!”

Travis flexed his arms like he was entering a boxing ring, tongs still in hand.

Libby laughed, taking in the moment. It was all in fun, but they hadn’t had this much fun in more than a decade. Much as she tried not to, her mind drifted to thoughts of whether the two of them could ever one day really be a team . . .

“People are arriving in droves now,” he said.

“Yeah, we’d better get moving. The good thing is it won’t take long.”

Travis took the aluminum foil off of the first pan. “I think we’re good to go.”

Libby was suddenly apprehensive. “Did you pray?”

“Pray?”

“Over the hush puppies, that they’d turn out delicious—and wouldn’t give anyone food poisoning.”

Travis chuckled. “All right. Team Wood’ll huddle up.” He put an arm around her, and they bowed their heads. “Lord, you know the two of us can’t cook . . .”

Libby smiled at the way he talked to God.

“. . . but this task seemed easy enough even for us. I pray it turns out well, doesn’t make anybody sick . . . And thank You for the friendship Libby and I are building again after all these years. Amen.”

Her stomach got butterflies. “Amen.”

“Ready or not,” Travis said, lifting the tongs again.

He placed several hush puppies into the stainless steel basket, then lowered it into the oil to the tune of loud sizzles and crackling.

They saw Todd approaching from his yard to theirs, which were one for purposes of reunion activities.

“Hey, Libby,” he said, “just got off the phone with Keisha. She’s definitely not coming.”

Libby sighed. “I know. I talked to her too. Thought I could per-suade her when she vacillated a little, maybe at least come for Sunday. But she decided it would be too much.” She added, “Of course Aunt Gwynn was a no from the beginning.”

Aunt Gwynn, the youngest of Grandma Geri’s children, had only returned to Hope Springs once since leaving as a teen, pregnant with Keisha, three decades ago. The families had learned only this year that Keisha’s father was Jim Dillon, Todd’s dad. Because they were an interracial couple, their parents pressured them to break up. And Aunt Gwynn had never forgiven Grandma Geri.

Todd looked disappointed. “I didn’t get to spend much time with Keisha or her husband and son at Grandma Geri’s funeral. I was hoping for that this weekend.”

“Libby Lou!”

Todd moved on as Libby turned to see who was calling her. “Hey, Aunt Louise, you just get in?”

“Got here this afternoon,” her great-aunt said. “Took a nap at the hotel, now here I am.”

Travis hugged her. “Aunt Louise, you’re looking well.” He bent a little, looking at the boy beside her. “I know that’s not Jamar. You’ve gotten so big. How you doing, young man?”

Jamar, who couldn’t be more than four, scooted behind his grandmother.

Aunt Louise prodded him. “Boy, stop being so shy and speak up. These are your relatives.”

Libby was sure Travis had been to so many reunions that some thought he was somehow related.

Aunt Louise eyed Travis. “I hear you’re pastoring New Jerusalem now. You married yet?”

“No, ma’am.”

“You know you need a first lady, don’t you? Handsome man such as yourself . . . What’s the problem?”

“Um . . . no problem. Just hasn’t happened yet.” He smiled. “I’m praying about it, though.”

“Good, good!” She turned to Libby. “And what about you, Miss Libby Lou? You any closer to walking down the aisle?”

“I don’t plan to get married,” she said, her standard answer.

Aunt Louise waved her away. “Chile, you just wait. All it takes is one man to knock you off your feet.”

Libby offered a thin smile and breathed a sigh of relief as other relatives came to greet Aunt Louise. Happily returning to the hush puppies, she lifted the basket from the oil.

“Travis, look. They look good, don’t they? Deep golden brown.” She scooped them with a slotted spoon into a pan lined with paper towels.

“I hope they taste as good as they look,” he said.

Jamar was checking them out. “Can I try one?”

“Oh, so you do talk?” Libby smiled. “Tell you what. You give me a hug, and I’ll give you one. You can be our first customer.”

He wrapped his arms around her tight, and Libby laughed. She put three on a paper towel. “Let ‘em cool off before you eat them, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Libby put more into the basket, thinking about what Travis had said. She glanced at him. “Are you really praying for a wife, Mr. I’m-Not-Ready-to-Commit?”

Travis looked at her. “Libby, that was a long time ago, in college.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He shrugged lightly. “Sure. That’s something I pray about.” He paused. “Are you really planning not to get married?”

“Yep.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Oh, you can read my mind now?”

“Don’t have to read your mind. I know you.” He lowered the hush puppies into the oil. “Deep down, you have a very real desire for a committed relationship.”

“That was a long time ago, in college.”

Travis stared at her, and she knew they were both remembering that long-ago time.

“Libby . . . sometimes I wish we could—”

“These are good!” Jamar had returned, looking as if he wanted more.

“Can I get some?” his older brother said.

Aunt Louise was with them. “I tasted one of Jamar’s,” she said. “It was delicious. Are they ready to serve?”

“Really? You liked it?” Libby grinned. “Actually, we have to take them to the buffet table and everything will be served from there.” She nodded toward the tented area.

“That’s not gonna work.”

Libby turned to see that Marcus had joined them—and was eating a hush puppy he’d apparently swiped.

“The line will be long,” Marcus continued, “and when people find out how good these are, they’ll go fast.” He licked his fingers. “If you keep it over here, I can have as many as I want.”

Travis laughed. “Spoken like a true hungry bachelor.”

Marcus reached for another one, and Libby swatted his hand.

“I have to remain firm.” Libby spoke as if it were a somber occasion. “As much as I love you all, I must guard the interests of the family as a whole. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to fend for yourself at the buffet table. I wish you the best.”

Marcus nodded slowly in defeat and stepped away, then darted back and stole another one.

“Boy!” Libby tried to swat him again, but he ran, hush puppy in hand.

She turned to Travis. “Can you believe it? We actually cooked something edible—and good!”

“Didn’t I tell you? We’re the team to beat!”

He high-fived her. And Libby’s heart skipped when their hands clasped and came down together.