The Color of Hope (22 page)
“That reminds me.” Libby dug in her purse. “I thought you might want to see this.” She pulled out the newspaper clipping about the churches and passed it to Aunt Gwynn.
Aunt Gwynn put on her reading glasses to examine it. When she’d finished reading, she sat back but didn’t speak for several seconds.
“I can’t believe how my heart is racing from reading that,” she said finally. “Took me back.” She passed the clipping to Keisha.
“How so, Mom?”
“That name—Skip Willoughby.”
Libby was surprised. “You know him?” Libby added, “I mean, everybody knows just about everybody in Hope Springs, but the way
you said it . . . I’m curious because his granddaughter was hanging with us at the reunion.”
Aunt Gwynn looked as if she must’ve heard her wrong. “Skip Willoughby’s granddaughter was at the Sanders family reunion?”
“Okay, Mom, what’s up?”
“If it weren’t for that man and his father, I really believe Jim and I might’ve had a chance.” Aunt Gwynn’s gaze moved back in time. “Our parents knew I was pregnant, and they were trying to figure out what to do. They said it would never work for us to be together. But Jim and I kept saying we loved each other and wanted to be together. It seemed like they were listening to us, at least a little . . . enough to give us hope, anyway.”
Libby was riveted. She wished Todd were here to hear more of what his dad was going through at that time.
“And what happened, Mom?” Keisha said.
“What happened was Skip Willoughby drove up to Jim’s house.” Aunt Gwynn’s tone changed just thinking about it. “Now keep in mind, Jim’s dad, Jerry, was pastor of Calvary at the time. And Skip was an elder even then. A lot younger, but because of his dad, he had power in town.”
“The article says he was outspoken against school integration. Do you remember that?”
“Aunt Floretta is right. Those were crazy times.” Aunt Gwynn shook her head. “They shut down the all-black high schools right before I was supposed to go. And there was all this drama surrounding the new high school that was opening for
all
students. Whenever we heard about opposition to it, the Willoughby name was in the mix—either Skip’s or his father’s. They were very vocal, some said even intimidating.” She uttered an empty laugh. “Yeah, I’d say that article is right.”
“All right,” Aunt Floretta said. “I’m back at Jim’s house when Skip drove up. I never heard this before. What happened?”
“Jim and I saw him drive up, and we just had a feeling it had to do
with us.” Aunt Gwynn took a sip of water, her hand shaking slightly. “Skip told Jerry people had seen Jim and me together, hugged up. He said it was obvious Jerry wasn’t conducting himself as a pastor ought, because he couldn’t manage his household or keep his son under control. He said . . .” She took a breath. “He said, ‘You better get your house in order before Jim gets that girl pregnant’—only that’s not how he referred to me—’because you
will
lose your job and your reputation if that happens. Dad and I have met with the elder board, and we’re all in agreement.’” Tears rolled down Aunt Gwynn’s face. “And I was already pregnant . . .”
For Libby, hearing the story like this, from her aunt’s own mouth, was like hearing it for the first time.
The table was silent.
Aunt Gwynn took a moment and dried her tears. “Despite Skip’s horrible comments, our parents were the ones we were upset with because we wanted them to support us, not bow to the pressure. But I knew it was hard.” She glanced at the article. “By the looks of things, it’s still hard.”
“It’s hard to wrap my brain around the fact that the latest Calvary pastor is my brother,” Keisha said. “There’s so much history there. And I can’t believe I talked to Todd last week and he didn’t mention the article or the boycott.”
“He’s feeling pretty burdened by it all,” Libby said. “Janelle left me a voice mail saying he decided to cancel the joint services.”
“That’s too bad,” Aunt Gwynn said. “I was heartened to read what they were trying to do.”
“What’s Travis say about it?” Keisha asked.
Libby shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t go to New Jerusalem.”
“Oh, for some reason I thought you did.”
Aunt Floretta looked at her. “What’s your church home, Libby?”
“I don’t really have one,” Libby said. “I grew up in a church in Raleigh, but I haven’t gone regularly since high school.”
“Really?” Keisha said. “I don’t know why I assumed otherwise.”
Libby gave a wry smile. “You had me confused with Janelle.”
“So, okay, let’s talk.” Keisha perked up. “I find this interesting because I wasn’t raised in church, but Wayne and I started going four years ago. Literally changed my life.” Her hands were animated. “I started praying for Mom and talking to her. Took a
long
time”—she smiled at her mother—“but this summer she started coming with us.” She turned back to Libby. “So I know what it’s like to be the skeptic who’s never belonged to a church. But you grew up in one. What happened?”
“I’ve asked myself that same question,” Libby said. “I grew up in church but was never really committed to what was being taught. Guess I was a rebel at heart, and when I went to college—and even in high school—I did my own thing.” She paused. “I had a relationship in college that left me heartbroken. After that I had all the reasons I needed to avoid committing to anyone, including God. If I don’t take a risk, I don’t have to worry about getting hurt.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Keisha said.
“Why not?”
“Don’t you think you’re taking a bigger risk by not committing to God?” Keisha had moved forward in her chair. “You’re staking your eternal future on a belief that you’re fine without Him.”
Libby blank-stared Aunt Gwynn.
Aunt Gwynn nodded in sympathy. “Didn’t I tell you she stayed on me? This is what I was talking about.”
Libby turned back to Keisha. “Well. Still. I think deep down I’m afraid to hope in God. Afraid of taking a step beyond what I know and giving up control, because who knows what will happen? You’re worse off if you try to hope and it only leads to disappointment.”
Keisha nodded as if considering. “I hear you. You’re afraid to hope in God. But the Bible says there’s no hope without Him. So
you can either stay where you are, with zero hope. Or you can put your hope—you don’t have to ‘try’—in Jesus and receive a promise . . . that that hope won’t disappoint.”
“Seriously,” Libby said, “I want to know who turned on your switch. How did you get so passionate about this?”
“Girl, I just look at my life and how it’s changed so much because of the Lord. I had a lot of baggage because of what happened with Mom.” She sighed. “And frankly, after hearing that story Mom just told, I need to pray I don’t get an attitude all over again.” She leaned in. “But back to you . . .”
Libby rolled her eyes playfully. “Great.”
“Have you ever drawn near to God?” Keisha said. “Have you ever said, ‘I’m going to see for myself what His Word is about’?”
Libby thought a moment, though she didn’t need to. “No.”
“I’m challenging you to do that.” Keisha sat back, arms folded. “And then you tell me if you’re disappointed.”
Libby turned back to Aunt Gwynn. “You should’ve warned me what I was getting myself into when I decided to come.”
The look in Aunt Gwynn’s eyes said she knew exactly what she’d gotten Libby into. But more than that, her eyes were warm. “You sent a DVD that got me thinking about my family again and moved me to reach out,” Aunt Gwynn said. “Maybe I was meant to return a greater favor . . . to invite you here so you’d think about God again and be moved to reach out to Him.”
Her words and Keisha’s stayed with Libby all night.
C
harley didn’t know which was pounding more—her head or her heart—as Marcus assembled everyone in the living room at Janelle and Stephanie’s house. They’d gone to New Jerusalem together this morning and had a meal here afterward, and amid obvious stares and whispers decided to get everything on the table. Marcus’s mom was there, so there was sure to be an objection, and that was the part that was making Charley’s head hurt.
“Marcus, what’s this about?” Aunt Gladys took a seat in the recliner. “Is somebody sick? This reminds me of when we all found out Momma had cancer.”
Marcus was still standing, waiting for everyone. “Nothing like that, Mom, trust me. Just a quick little impromptu meeting.”
Charley sat on the sofa with Stephanie and Lindell, who’d returned from Haiti late last night. Kory came in and plopped down on the love seat.
“Where’s your lovely fiancée?” Marcus asked.
“She took Dee and Tiffany next door to play with Claire, then
drove Daniel around the corner to a friend’s house,” Kory said. “She should be back any second.”
“I haven’t heard much about any wedding plans,” Aunt Gladys said. “Have you two set a date yet?”
Janelle opened the front door just then and entered the family room.
“Right on time.” Kory sat back, crossed a leg over a knee. “I’ll let Janelle answer that.”
She joined him on the love seat. “Answer what?”
“I asked if you two had set a wedding date,” Aunt Gladys said.
“Oh.” Janelle looked at Kory, then back to her aunt. “We sort of have, but we’re not making it public yet. We’re deciding how we’re going to handle things. Might be just us and the kids at the ceremony.”
“And not invite the rest of your family?” Aunt Gladys said. “You know—”
“Uh, excuse me.” Marcus looked from side to side at them. “You all can call a separate meeting to discuss Janelle and Kory’s wedding plans. This is our meeting.”
His mother frowned. “’Our’ who?”
“Me and Charley.”
Eyebrows went up around the room.
Marcus sat beside her on the sofa. “This really isn’t meant to be a big deal,” he said. “Charley and I simply wanted to let you know that we’re dating.”
“And that . . . requires an announcement?” Stephanie looked confused. “Just askin’.”
“Good question,” Marcus said. “If we were living anywhere but Hope Springs, with family, church, and other dynamics in the mix, maybe not. But can we be real?” He lifted his hands. “I’m black. Charley’s white. We’ve already seen stares and whispers. So we wanted to get it out there, especially with the family.”
“I’m sure you saw me staring,” Stephanie said. “’Cause I was thinking,
It’s about time.
” She smiled. “But I can’t see anybody in our family having an issue with the color aspect.”
“As a matter of fact,” Aunt Gladys said, “I’ve got an issue with it.”
“Okaay . . . this is awkward.” Stephanie sat back.
Charley’s stomach clenched.
Marcus cleared his throat. “I, uh, thought you might, Mom. That’s why we wanted to talk about it.”
“Well, I’m not talking about it here,” Aunt Gladys said. “You’re my son. What I have to say, I can say to you privately.”
“But that’s exactly what I don’t want,” Marcus said. “I don’t want any behind-closed-doors type discussions. If this weren’t important to me, there wouldn’t be
any
discussion. I’d just kick it with Charley for a while, then move on to the next person, like usual.” He took her hand. “But this isn’t usual for me. I want to build something meaningful with Charley. I want to see where God takes it. And if there’s an issue based on something we can’t control, like the color of our skin, I want us both to hear that and address it.” He spoke earnestly but evenly. “That’s where I am, Mom.”
“I can respect that, son,” Aunt Gladys said, “and I don’t have a problem with Charley personally.” She looked at her. “From what I’ve seen, you’re a very nice young lady.” Her attention shifted back to Marcus. “But I told you not to date white girls for a reason. Life is complicated enough without you
making
it complicated for you and your future children. There was a time in this very town when you couldn’t have looked at this girl without suffering some kind of consequence.”
“Mom, really? You’re going back fifty years?”
“Sometimes you need to be reminded.” Aunt Gladys had him fixed firmly in her gaze. “And do you know
why
you couldn’t look at her? Because white women were considered superior—especially blond-haired, blue-eyed white women.”
Charley cast her own eyes downward.
“And black women?” Aunt Gladys continued. “Inferior. That’s the history. And whenever I see a black man with a white woman, all I can think is he must think the same way—a black woman isn’t good enough.” She paused. “The last thing I wanted was for my son to think that way.”
“Mom, I
don’t
think that way.” Marcus looked incredulous. “If I were focused on skin color, I wouldn’t even be with Charley. It’s not about that. I’m looking at her heart.”
“Aunt Gladys,” Janelle said, “even back in the day,
everyone
wasn’t focused on skin color. Jim Dillon fell in love with your little sister, a black woman, and she fell in love with him.”
“Mm-hm,” Aunt Gladys said, “and you see where that got them. Just like I said, she suffered consequences, to this very day.”
Stephanie peered over at Janelle. “That might not have been the best example. I’m just sayin’.”