The Color of Hope (10 page)

Libby heard words of parting and something about seeing Trina tomorrow—and she may have said good-bye herself—but it was all a fog. She left the ballroom right after Trina, heading a different direction. To where, she didn’t know. She simply walked the hall until she saw a little enclave to the left with a grouping of empty armchairs. Taking one facing the wall, she sat and lowered her head.

How could she have been so stupid? Did she really think there was a chance for her and Travis? She hadn’t actually
thought
it, but it was there, lurking. Libby felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She knew Travis couldn’t be with her. He was a pastor. He loved God, lived for God. Libby hadn’t lived for God in years, if ever. But tonight she’d felt herself turning . . .

So naïve.
Just because she and Travis spent time together, she thought it meant something? That her life was changing?

“Libby, can I talk to you?” Travis took the armchair next to hers.

She crossed her legs away from him.

“Libby.” He leaned on his thighs. “We need to talk.”

Libby wiped her eyes and sat up, looking away from him. “You could’ve told me, Travis.”

“Told you what?”

“That you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not seeing Trina.”

Libby looked at him. “It’s obvious the two of you spend time together.”

“Because we went to a concert?”

She glanced away.

“Can we back up?” Travis said. “Why do you care? Aren’t you seeing Omar?”

“What does
that
matter? It’s not serious. He’s not even with me this weekend.”

“Which brings me to my other point. You say you don’t want a committed relationship. So I repeat—why do you care if I’m seeing Trina? Why are you upset?”

She fought to contain another surge of emotion. “Because I thought we were rebuilding a friendship between us.”

“Libby, we are. And I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

She stared at her hands, tears sliding down her face.

“Tell me, Libby. What’s on your mind?”

Libby swiped the tears and looked hard at him. “You know what’s on my mind? Déjà vu. Fifteen years ago I was sitting in my dorm room telling myself what a fool I was to have feelings for you. And guess what? It was after finding out you were seeing someone else.”

“So you’re upset because you have feelings for me, right now?”

She looked away. “I’m not answering that.”

“I will.” Travis tugged her hand so she’d look at him. “I admit I have feelings for you.”

Libby couldn’t respond. She simply stared at him.

“This isn’t déjà vu, Libby. In college I didn’t commit to you because I was foolish. But now . . . it’s a different reality.”

“Because you’re a pastor.”

He shifted, looking more intently at her. “It’s not just that,” he said. “I’m committed to Jesus. I want to obey His Word, and that means the woman with whom I pursue a relationship must also be committed to Jesus.” He sighed, glancing down a moment. “But reconnecting with you these past few months awakened old feelings—maybe even new ones.” He paused again. “I thought we could be friends, but the last thing I want to do is hurt you again.”

Why can’t I stop these stupid tears?

She stared into her lap. “So . . . are you at least thinking about pursuing a relationship with Trina?”

“It’s a possibility,” he said, and the frankness of it hurt. He quickly added, “But this isn’t about Trina, and it really isn’t about me. It’s about you, Libby. Your soul. Your eternity.” He paused. “I told you at the fish fry that deep down I think you do want a committed relationship. And the only relationship that’ll satisfy that desire is Jesus.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Pastor. Nice way to write me off.”

“Don’t do that, Libby. You know this is from the heart.”

She did know it. She just didn’t know what to do with it.

She stood and turned to go.

“Just like that?” he said. “That’s how we’re leaving this?”

Libby looked at him. “I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Are you . . . still coming to the service tomorrow?”

Right. So I can watch you and Trina?
“I’ll pass.”

His eyes fell. “What about the reunion? Should I stay away the rest of the weekend?”

“I wouldn’t tell you that.”

He looked at her. “But you’d prefer it.”

She stared into his brown eyes. Didn’t he know what she would truly prefer? Tears threatening once more, she walked away.

CHAPTER TEN

C
harley had her hand on the door handle before the car came to a complete stop. “Thanks for dinner, Connor,” she said. “I had a nice time.”

Connor shifted his BMW to park, idling by the front curb of Charley’s home. “So did I,” he said. “But it’s not even late. You sure you don’t want to catch a movie or something?”

Charley nodded. “I’m sure. Appreciate the offer, though.”

He leaned on the console. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, “but I’m used to women showing a little more interest. If anything, I’m the one trying to cut the evening short. But I like you, a lot.”

He eased closer, touched her hair. Charley flinched.

“See.” Connor pulled back. “I feel like I keep doing the wrong thing with you.”

Connor was cute and obviously used to getting his way.

“It’s not you; it’s me,” Charley said. “Busy weekend, got a lot on my mind.” She smiled, popped open the door. “Thanks again. Really. I enjoyed it.”

“Next weekend?”

“Actually, I’ll probably be out of town.”

She stepped out, closed the door, and heard his engine roar off as she opened her front door. Heading upstairs, she glanced at her watch. Already late—later than she wanted to be, anyway. She slipped out of her skirt and top and into the olive green reunion shirt and khaki capris waiting on her bed.

Stephanie had gotten her the shirt and insisted she wear it—after insisting she come. Friday night and Saturday morning with the Sanders family had seemed enough to wear out her welcome, so Charley had tried to beg off. But it was hard to resist the tag team persuasion of both Stephanie and Marcus. The three of them seemed to click, especially after hanging out until two in the morning. Still, she read nothing into Marcus’s end of the invitation. He was inviting her to hang with all of them, not just him. Though in her brief moments with just him, they’d seemed to have their own bit of chemistry . . . or was she imagining it?

She dashed into the hall bathroom to freshen her face and heard her mother’s bedroom door open.

Dottie stopped in the bathroom doorway. “I didn’t know you were back, honey. How did it go?”

“Fine.” Charley pressed powder on her forehead and nose.

“You liked him?”

She shrugged. “He’s okay.”

“Just okay?” Dottie’s disappointment showed. “He seems like a great guy, certainly on his way careerwise. And our families get along well, which is a plus . . .”

“I’m sure it’s all true, Mom.” Charley assessed her eye shadow. “He’s just not my type.”

“How can you tell after one date? Shouldn’t you—Wait, are you heading back out?”

“Rocky Mount Hilton,” she said. “The Sanders family is gathering there tonight.”

“Sounds like you’re having a great time at this family reunion,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Gladys and Estelle. Tell them I said hello.”

“Actually, you could tell them yourself. I hear a lot of the family’s going to the joint service tomorrow. It’ll be a good time for you all to catch up.”

“Oh, I haven’t had a chance to tell you. I decided not to go tomorrow.”

Charley turned. “What? You’re boycotting?”

“I’m not
boycotting
. I don’t like that term. But I’ve been talking to a few other Calvary friends. The consensus is that our church is in a transition phase, and the best thing right now is to focus inward and make sure our own house is in order, so to speak.” She hesitated slightly. “Grandpa Skip wants me to make sure you’re on board too.”

“I’m sorry to disagree, Mom, but I really want the joint service to succeed,” Charley said. “And being around Pastor Travis last night made me want to hear more from him. I’m looking forward to hearing him preach tomorrow.”

Dottie was quiet a moment. “I don’t think there’s a right or wrong in this. We just have differing opinions about the best course.”

“Maybe,” Charley said. “I haven’t really been paying attention or praying about it until now. I don’t know if there’s a right or wrong, but I’m really wondering what God’s heart is in all of this.”

It was close to ten when Charley entered the hotel ballroom, lights dim, music playing. She took a deep breath as she glanced around, feeling the flutters.
You’re not looking for Marcus; you’re looking for
Stephanie or Janelle
.

A cheer went up, and Charley walked toward the mass of olive green shirts on the dance floor. Rows of people were doing a line dance—and having a ball. Cyd and Cedric were especially into it,
causing another cheer to go up as they turned toward one another, did a fancy dance move, then rejoined the line. Charley spotted Janelle and Kory, Stephanie and her husband, and Marcus—just as he spotted her.

Marcus smiled as he stepped sideways with the crowd, motioning for her to join them.

Charley’s eyes widened, her head answering a vigorous no.

He two-hand urged her.

She two-handed no.

He said something to Stephanie, and they broke ranks and came for her.

Charley backed up, laughing. “Nope, nope, nope. I’m not making a fool of myself. I don’t know that dance.”

“It’s the Cha-Cha Slide,” Stephanie said, grabbing an arm. “Girl, they got me out there, and I never get it right. You’ll look good next to me.”

Marcus had her other arm. “I forgot to mention . . . there’s the rule about eating, and there’s one about doing the cha-cha . . . All guests have to try it.”

She didn’t know if it was the infectious beat or his infectious smile that did it.

“I’ll try it,” she said. “But if you laugh . . .”

“Me?” He pulled her by the hand. “Never.”

The three of them took a spot near the edge of the floor, Charley in between. Marcus jumped right back in, moving backward. Stephanie joined in, but by the time Charley caught on and took a step back, they were doing a hop and stomping a foot. Next thing she knew, the line had made a quarter turn.

Charley turned as they were moving left. “Marcus, I can’t get this. It’s going too fast.”

“Just follow what the guy’s saying on the song,” he said.

Charley nodded. Instead of focusing on the line dancers, she
focused on the words. When the guy said, “To the left,” she went left. When he said, “Take it back,” she went back. Then she hopped forward with the line but started laughing at Stephanie—who was sliding left instead of right—and missed the cha-cha part.

They quarter-turned again, and Charley felt herself getting the hang of it. Her moves more fluid, she put some flavor in the hops and stomps—and got to try the cha-cha.

“I see you!” Stephanie called over. “Shake what your mama gave you, girl!”

Charley laughed again but kept moving so she wouldn’t fall out of rhythm. Two quarter turns later, they added new moves—a crisscross, a “Charlie Brown” thing, which she skipped, and a hand clap. Then she heard the guy say, “How low can you go; can you go down low; all the way to the floor . . .”

She didn’t know what got into her, but she had to try it. What she didn’t know was that she’d be one of few who would. Most stopped midway and cheered as she made her way down “to the floor.”

“Look at you,” Marcus said. He did a double-time clap to the beat to urge her on.

“This is fun!” Charley said—then her knee locked as she tried to come back up.

She almost keeled over, but Marcus grabbed her hand and pulled her upward. She clung to his arm, off balance still, mostly because she couldn’t stop laughing.