The Color of Hope (24 page)
Stephanie didn’t look at Janelle, only because she was dying to.
“They’re hilarious,” Janelle said. “We told them we wouldn’t help because they needed to learn to do it themselves. And they went and got help anyway.”
“Sorry. If I had known, I would’ve surely held the party line.” Trina took a seat. “Travis and I are about to grab dinner, but he had to make some calls first. So I thought I’d duck in and say hey.”
The sound of heavy feet and loud screams came at them suddenly. Sam came barreling into the family room with Tiffany on her back, ran around the perimeter and back out, zooming down the hall.
Janelle turned to Trina. “This is how we wind down before bed around here.”
“Ah, I’ll have to remember that for when I have my own kids.” Trina smiled when they heard another stampede in a different part of the house. “You know, I’m sure I’ve heard you two mention it, but I didn’t realize until today that your family grew up right next to Pastor Todd’s family, and Travis was right up the street. There’s so much history.”
Stephanie nodded. “There really is. I missed a lot, living so far away in St. Louis. But Janelle knows everything about everything when it comes to the Sanders family.”
“Not me,” Janelle said. “Libby’s the one, because she lived down here.”
“Oh,” Trina said. “Libby probably told you we saw her in Raleigh two Saturdays ago.”
This time Stephanie had to glance quickly at Janelle. “Where’d you see Libby?” she asked.
“At Mama Jay’s.”
“I keep hearing about that place,” Stephanie said. “How’d you like it, Trina?”
“It lived up to the hype. I had the catfish, which was so good, and I tasted some of Travis’s jerk chicken—it was hot but really good.”
A quick knock sounded, and Travis walked in. “How’s everybody to—whoa!”
Sam was galloping through again, bellowing, “Hi-yo, Silver! Away!”—her horse a little wobbly as she almost ran Travis over.
“Sorry,” Sam yelled, galloping on.
Travis watched them disappear into the next room. “Who was that young lady?”
“She was one of my students in study hall,” Stephanie said.
“And she came to Soul Sisters,” Trina added. “Really sweet girl.”
Trina’s phone rang, and she checked it. “Work. I’ve got to get this.” She got up, looking at Travis. “Meet you outside?”
“Okay,” he said.
“See you guys tomorrow night.” Trina waved bye as she answered her cell and walked out.
Janelle and Stephanie stared at Travis.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Janelle sang.
“Spill it.”
“I just find it interesting,” Janelle said, “that I’ve been working with you for several days now, and you never mentioned running into Libby at Mama Jay’s.”
“There was no need. I knew she’d tell you.”
Janelle looked up at him. “Actually, she didn’t. I haven’t talked to her.”
“At all?”
“Nope,” Janelle said. “She hasn’t returned my calls. What about you? Have you talked to her?”
“No. She texted me once I left Mama Jay’s and let me have it for bringing my ‘girlfriend’ to her favorite restaurant.”
“I imagine she was hurt, Travis,” Janelle said. “Of all the restaurants you could’ve chosen . . . I think she gets carryout from there every weekend.”
“I felt bad,” he said. “I wanted to call her when I got home, but it would’ve only made things worse.” He sighed. “I’m resolved that I need to give Libby her space. She can do her thing in her world, and I’ll do mine.”
Janelle’s gaze drifted toward the door. “You know it’s not easy for me.”
Travis only looked at her and waited.
“Trina’s my Soul Sister and a great person, and there are so many reasons to be glad the two of you are connecting.” She paused. “But I so want Libby to see the light—I’ve prayed for that—because I think both of you, deep in your hearts, feel deeply for one another.”
“Keep praying for Libby, Janelle.” Travis backed toward the door. “I’m committed to doing the same. But I can’t dream about what she might hopefully be one day.” He opened it. “I have to live my life in the now.”
T
he door buzzer startled Libby from her work early Friday evening. She wasn’t expecting anyone and was inclined to ignore it—probably the boy from several units over selling something again—but then she heard, “Libby, you in there? Open up.”
Omar.
He’d gone a week and a half without calling. Then Wednesday he’d left a voice mail, and again this morning, plus a handful of texts.
He knocked hard this time. “Libby, if you’re in there, open the door. I’m worried about you.”
She sighed, rising from the dining room table. In her duplex-style apartment, she had only two other neighbors close enough to hear, but they paid attention to everything. If she didn’t answer, they’d start calling and stopping by to make sure she was okay.
She opened the door and stood aside so he could enter. Might’ve been because she hadn’t seen him, but he looked more handsome than normal in beige walking shorts and a black polo shirt. She felt the adrenaline surge she always felt around him. There was never a doubt about that—she was attracted to him.
He stood within inches after she closed the door. “You don’t return my calls. I had to bang on the door to get you to answer. Is that where we are now?”
Libby frowned at him. “Excuse me? You’re the one who left the reunion with an attitude, acting like you didn’t want anything more to do with me.”
“You were wrong, Libby.” He was matter-of-fact. “You invited me to come, but only as a pawn in some game you were playing with Travis.”
“I wasn’t playing a game,” Libby said. “I was just . . . I don’t know what I was doing.” She looked at him. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that. I apologize.”
A brow went up. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he said.
“What
were
you expecting? Why did you come?”
“Like I said, I was worried.” His voice was tender. “And you know I couldn’t stay mad at you.” He caressed her face. “I missed you.”
She moved around him, from the entryway to the dining area, her heart palpitating. This was the Friday night norm she’d been missing the last two weeks, she and Omar spending time together . . . spending the night together.
“Did you eat already?” he asked. “I almost brought some carryout, but I didn’t know if you’d be here. I can go back out and get us something.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I have leftovers from last night.”
“From where?”
“From here. I cooked.”
“You cooked?” His voice was full of doubt. He went straight to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “This here?” He pulled out a covered dish, put it on the counter, and took the top off. “It looks good. What is it?”
She felt proud. “A chicken and linguine casserole my aunt taught me how to make.” She smiled. “Turned out pretty good too.”
He smiled back. “Are you game for me to try it? I
am
starving, by the way.”
“Then how can I refuse?”
They prepared two plates, warmed them in the microwave, and took them to the dining room table. She let him take the first bite as she watched.
He pointed at the plate with his fork. “So you said your aunt made this?”
“I said I made it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
He scooped another forkful. “It’s delicious, whether you made it or not. But if you really made it, I’m big impressed.”
Her head did a slight bow. “Thank you.”
Inside she was thrilled. Couldn’t wait to call Aunt Gwynn and tell her that her step-by-step directions—which for Libby were broken down to half-step by half-step—had actually worked. Beautifully.
They continued with the meal over small talk. Libby even mentioned her trip to New Jersey to see family, but without going into detail.
Omar gestured toward the other end of the table. “So what were you working on before I got here? You’ve got a lot of books over there.”
“Yeah. Bible, concordance, word study dictionary . . . I’m doing some digging. Learning about God, me, life . . .”
“What brought that on?”
“I think a lot of things jump-started it.” Libby had asked herself that question and didn’t know where to begin. “But the culmination came on that trip to Jersey. Long talks with my family, visiting their church . . . I feel like I’m on this expedition, trying to see what I find.”
“I think it’s cool to tap into your spiritual side.” He picked up
their plates and carried them into the kitchen. “Maybe some of it’ll rub off on me.”
When he returned, he lifted her by the hand and looked into her eyes. “Why don’t I get us a glass of wine and we can relax in the bedroom, maybe watch a movie.” He pulled her closer, his arm around her waist. “And after the movie, I’ll let you know my other ideas for the night.”
Her skin tingled with a yes. She’d missed him. Maybe her feelings for him were more than she thought.
He kissed her, and she was intoxicated with the feeling it gave her . . . until her mind carried it through to her bedroom and waking up beside him tomorrow morning, and how
that
would make her feel. That wasn’t what she wanted, a momentary thrill that ultimately meant nothing. She couldn’t explain why. It just wasn’t. Not anymore.
“Omar, I can’t.”
He kissed the side of her lips. “Can’t what?”
She took a step back. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”
“I understand if you’re tired.” He held her fingertips. “But you’ve still got to relax. What if we at least start the movie? If you fall asleep, you fall asleep.”
His words and his touch pulled her in again. She didn’t
want
to be alone. But was this the type of companionship she yearned for?
She took a big breath. If she didn’t do it right now, she wouldn’t do it.
Libby walked away from him to the door. “Omar, you have to go.”
His brow creased. “You’re saying I can’t even stay with you? I told you, Libby, I understand if you don’t want to—” He stopped. “Are you gaming me again? Some other guy is on his way over here?”
“No,” Libby said.
He came closer. “Then what’s going on? The way you kissed me, I know there’s still something there.”
“It’s this journey I’m on,” she said. “I want to be focused. If I let
my heart and soul get distracted, I might miss what I’m really after, though I’m not even sure what that is.”
“If you want to know the truth, you seem confused.”
Libby smiled faintly. “I know. That’s my aim, to clear it up.” She opened the door.
“Call me when you’re done with all your digging.”
She nodded. “Bye, Omar.”
Libby returned to the table, heaving a heavy sigh. Turning back to where she was, she continued reading in the book of Romans. She’d always been fascinated watching legal arguments on Court TV. Who’d have thought that the apostle Paul making his case for the gospel could be as riveting?
C
harley sat lotus style on Marcus and Travis’s living room floor, eating pizza and laughing while arguing her point. Marcus had invited her to join the informal Bible study he’d been doing with Travis, and this was their third meeting.
“It is
not
stupid.” She pushed Marcus’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you never heard it.”
“Good, better, best . . .” Marcus looked at her. “Wait, say it again.”
“No, ‘cause you think it’s dumb.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never heard it either,” Travis said. Across from them, his back propped against the sofa, he chugged some of his Coke. “I think I learned that, like, in kindergarten. ‘Good, better, best, never let it rest; until your good is better and your better is best.’”
“Oh, now I get it,” Marcus said. “You both learned it in school. It’s a Hope Springs ditty.”
“Are you making
fun
?” Charley sat up straight, fists on her hip. “I’ll have you know we learned only the best here in Hope Springs. For example, I know your statement just now was factually incorrect because a ‘ditty’ is a song. ‘Good, better, best’ is a maxim. So there.”
“All right, my Hope Springs homie.” Travis leaned over and gave her a fist bump. “And a fist bump for the point you were making before Marcus interrupted too.”
“What?” Marcus raised his hands in defense. “I can’t help it if it struck me as funny. And it
could
be a ditty, like this.” His head started bopping playfully side to side. “Good, better best, never let it rest, until your good is better and your better is best.”
“Hey, that was pretty funky. But you still get a”—she pushed him again—“because you were making fun.”
“Okay, class, settle down.” Travis chuckled as he looked down at his Bible. “That was good, Charley, because that’s what Paul is saying right here. We may be doing ‘good’ in certain areas, but we could always do better. Right? And we have in our sights before us what’s best—the example of Jesus Christ. So when he says of pleasing God that we ought to ‘excel still more,’ he’s saying we should always be moving from the good to the better toward what’s best.”