The Color of Hope

CHAPTER SEVEN





Charley guided her car into a makeshift parking lot on the gravel outside the Sanders’ family home and let the motor run. She’d gone back and forth about whether to come. Seemed a fun idea when Stephanie and Janelle asked. She didn’t know them well, but they were easy to like. Easy to connect with. Sort of like their cousin. And that’s what was giving her pause.

She’d finally admitted it to herself—she had a crush on Marcus Maxwell. She couldn’t stop thinking about their meeting yesterday, how their conversation flowed naturally to God and faith. She’d never had that with Jake. He’d been faithful about church on Sunday, but in the day-to-day, spiritual depth was lacking . . . which was fine until her walk with God deepened in college. From there the spiritual chasm between them increased, even as they planned their wedding—all the way to the breakup.

She’d vowed afterward to make faith “the main thing” when it came to guys. And Marcus had looks, personality, and that main thing. But so what? That’s what she kept saying to herself. What difference did it make? It wasn’t like he’d ever know she liked him. She wasn’t the type to show it. And he seemed content to keep a professional wall between them. When they passed in the halls this morning, he was cordial as ever, but she was still Coach Willoughby. And his only other comment—while looking back, walking—referenced an administrative matter.

Another car pulled up beside her, and a family got out. Charley looked toward the house. The thought of seeing Marcus—especially a more personal side of him—was intriguing. But why encourage a silly infatuation? Either she’d be leaving town, so it wouldn’t matter, or she’d be staying and it wouldn’t matter, given the professional boundaries between them.

Or she wasn’t his type, so none of it mattered.

Ugh. Charley, really? She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She was being silly, all right, letting her mind dwell on this. She finally cut the engine and hopped out. Enjoy her time with Stephanie and Janelle—that’s what she would do. And as she followed the sounds of music, laughter, and kids, she got excited about just that.

She entered the backyard, one that stretched a long ways left to right, and saw a lively atmosphere and people everywhere—at picnic tables, mingling, some dancing.

“Charley! Hey!” Janelle was waving from a welcome table.

Charley waved back as she walked over. “This is amazing.” She hugged her. “I’ve never been to a family gathering like this.”

Janelle smiled. “I’m told it’s unique, but it’s all I’ve known my entire life.” She turned to the guy beside her. “Kory, this is Charley, one of my Soul Sisters. Charley, this is Kory . . .” She searched for words, then turned her puzzled look up at him. “How do I describe you? ‘Boyfriend’ sounds funny to me, at our age.”

Kory chuckled. “First, nice to meet you, Charley.” He shook her hand. “The problem is Janelle can’t bring herself to say I’m the guy who met her at one of these reunions at eighteen, fell in love with her, and then was ignored and forgotten when we went off to college. But a decade and a half later, here we are. She finally agreed to date me.”

“Are you serious?” Charley said. “That’s how you met?”

“And that’s about the only part of his story that’s accurate,” Janelle said.

Kory draped an arm around her. “So we’re not dating?”

“Okay, I guess that part is true too.”

“You guess it’s true?”

Charley folded her arms, smiling at them. “You two are too cute.”

Janelle put her arm around his waist, eyeing Charley. “I’ll fill you in on the real details of how Kory ignored me after I went off to—”

“Coach Willoughby?”

Charley turned, her stomach doing a little flip. Marcus looked handsome even in casual shorts and an athletic tee.

“Hey, didn’t know you’d be here,” he said.

Handshake. Ever the professional.

“Hey, Mr. Maxwell.” Charley tucked her hair behind an ear. “I didn’t either, till last night. Janelle and Stephanie invited me.”

Janelle folded her arms. “I get ‘Coach’ and ‘Mr.’ in the school building,” she said. “But really? Y’all can’t be Marcus and Charley on a Friday night?”

Marcus gave his cousin a sheepish smile. “A little formal?”

“You think?”

Another family walked into the backyard and headed for the welcome table.

“Marcus,” Janelle said, “could you show Charley to the food and drinks and all that good stuff? Not sure where Steph is. I should only be a minute, until somebody takes our place.”

Charley did a quick glance at the nearby crowd to see if she could spot Stephanie herself. Time with Marcus was exactly what she didn’t need.

“Sure,” he was saying, already leading the way. “So . . . Charley . . . it’ll take a minute to get used to that.” He smiled. “Didn’t recognize you at first with the whole no-ponytail-or-sneakers look.”

She glanced down at her skirt and sandals. “Well, I do clean up once in a while.”

“Ha. Guess in my case, I went backward.” He glanced at her. “How long have you known my cousins?”

“Not long. Met Janelle in the spring at Soul Sisters; just met Stephanie yesterday.” She added, “But I’m looking forward to getting to know them better.”

He nodded. “Which means you’d have to be near them, here in Hope Springs, which, in order for that to work, means you’d have to take the head coach position.”

“Hmm . . . that wasn’t Mr. Maxwell right there, was it? On a Friday night?”

“Uh, no. Not at all.” He cleared his throat. “Just . . . okay, yeah, that was Mr. Maxwell.” He laughed. “Promise. Marcus only, rest of the night.” He paused. “But wait, I’m your brother in Christ too, right? I thought we had a vibe going yesterday, trying to figure out what God was doing in your life.”

“Good save,” she said. “We’ll file that comment under brotherly advice.”

They wove through pockets of conversation, Marcus patting people on the back or giving a nod, and stopped inside a tent area with long buffet tables filled with food. He passed her a sturdy plastic plate.

Charley held up a hand, smiling apologetically. “I should’ve told Janelle I’m not that hungry. I had dinner at home earlier.”

“Oh. Janelle didn’t warn you? You have to eat when you attend a Sanders reunion. It’s, like, a law. Those who don’t mysteriously disappear, never to be seen again.”

Someone walked a pan of fresh fried fish by them. Charley followed it with her eyes to the buffet table.

“That smells really good,” she said.

“I’m sayin’.” He extended his hands like it was a no-brainer. “You can enjoy good food and keep your life. Win-win.”

“All right, I’m sold,” she said. “But I think I’ll wait for Janelle or Stephanie.”

Marcus took a glance around. “I don’t know where Janelle went, and I still don’t see Steph.” He shrugged. “I’m a lame substitute, but I can join you.”

“Did you eat already?” she said.

“I did, but I’m willing to get seconds just to be gracious.”

She took the plate from him. “I’ve got to at least try that fish.”

Marcus nodded. “That’s the Sanders spirit.” He got a plate himself and proceeded to pile it on.

“Wow. I thought you were just being gracious.”

“Oh, I don’t play.” He scooped some butter beans and plopped them next to the potatoes and two pieces of fish. “I’ll pack on a couple of pounds for the sake of being gracious.”

She shook her head at him, following him to the second buffet as he added dessert. They stopped at the beverage station and got bottled water, then walked toward a picnic table that had space. Marcus introduced her to the others at the table—great-aunts and uncles—and they settled on the end.

Charley pinched off a piece of fish and tasted it. “Mmm, I love whiting. This is really good.”

“I’m impressed,” Marcus said. “I couldn’t have told you what it was.” He lifted a forkful himself. “So I know Coach Willoughby’s résumé. But tell me about Charley. You grow up playing volleyball?”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Started in middle school, played club through high school, then went on to college.” She took a sip of water. “What about you? Did you play a sport?”

“Basketball. Point guard.”

“In college?”

He nodded. “UNC-Greensboro.” Smiling a little, he added, “We’ve got a game tomorrow morning at the high school. Looking forward to hurtin’ the older dudes in the family, but hoping the younger ones don’t hurt me.”

Charley laughed. “Sounds like fun. So you grew up in Greensboro?”

“Raleigh. But I was in Hope Springs a lot, right here at my grandmother’s house. My mother grew up in this house.”

“Janelle said she and Stephanie are the third generation to live here. That’s pretty cool.”

“Charley!” Stephanie walked up and took a spot next to her on the bench. “Sorry. Janelle came to get me, and I was in the middle of cheer practice.”

“Cheer practice?” Charley asked.

Marcus gave Stephanie a look, then turned to Charley. “She’s a traitor, cheering for the Over 30 team tomorrow morning.”

“Excuse me,” Stephanie said. “I might be in my twenties, but my husband is on that team, so that’s where my loyalty lies.” She hit Charley’s arm. “Hey, you should join us. It’s a ragtag group of cheerleaders, so it promises to be a riot.”

“Hold it,” Marcus said. “I know you’re not talking about Charley cheering for the Over 30s. We need some Under 30 cheer support.” He looked at Charley. “You got our backs, right?”

“I’d definitely have to go with my Under 30 peeps.” She laughed. “But I’ve never cheered a day in my life . . . so enthusiastic hand claps will have to do. Actually, I was planning to go to the school tomorrow anyway, to start moving my things out of the gym office.”

Marcus eyed her. “But you haven’t made a final decision yet . . . have you?”

“It was final all summer,” Charley said, “until you threw in that monkey wrench yesterday.”

“He’s throwing monkey wrenches into everybody’s life,” Stephanie said. “Approached me earlier today about subbing.”

Charley’s eyes got big. “Wow, really? I did hear there was a shortage of teachers.”

“That’s what Marcus said.” Stephanie folded her arms. “And I said no. I don’t do little kids if I can help it. Definitely don’t do smart-alecky teens.”

“You told me you would pray about it,” Marcus said.

“Mm-hm. And no is still real strong in my spirit.”

Charley laughed, almost spitting out the water she’d just swigged. “That’s the answer I should’ve given him.” She fist-bumped Stephanie.

“Oh, y’all are ganging up on me?” Marcus said. “I’m not worried because I know how to pray too—and I’m praying for both of you.” He nodded like he had some inside track. “Don’t be surprised when I’m fist-bumping y’all in the hallway on the first day of school.”

“Don’t be praying for me,” Stephanie said. “Totally out of bounds and uncalled for. I don’t need you trying to shake my inner resolve.”

Marcus laughed and countered with a quick reply, but Charley barely heard—because she’d heard something else. That he was a praying man. And the thought that he might’ve prayed for her . . .

The plan wasn’t working. Everything about this night was fueling her crush on him.