She stared at the slats on the porch. “It was personal for me. I was on a journey, reading the Bible, studying other resources . . . I didn’t want any interference.”
He looked away, out into the yard. “Interference . . . that’s what I would’ve been?” He turned back to her. “We talked about this, Libby, at the reunion. Talked about committing your life to Jesus, but at the time you weren’t ready. I told you I’d be praying for you,
and I have. Then you have this big spiritual awakening”—he gestured with his hands—“and I get to find out weeks later in a group announcement?”
“Is something wrong with that?”
Travis raised himself slightly. “If you want to know the truth, I’m a little hurt by it. I thought we had something more special than that.”
“Why?” Libby gave him a bewildered look. “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t be friends. Why would you think I owed you anything?”
“And why did I say we shouldn’t be friends? It was because I had feelings for you I couldn’t act on because you weren’t walking with the Lord. Then you start walking with the Lord . . .” He looked away, frustrated. “A phone call would’ve been nice.”
“Every time I see you, you look rather happy with Trina,” Libby said. “I didn’t want to get in the middle of that.”
He looked back at her. “Now Trina’s the excuse?”
“Trina’s the reality.”
He got up, sending the swing out of rhythm. Walking to the edge of the porch, he sighed and looked up into the clouds. After a long moment, he said, “I’m sorry.”
He turned around. “I made this about me. Instead of focusing on why you didn’t tell me, I should’ve been rejoicing with you.” He leaned against the porch rail. “Like I said, I’ve been praying, and I thank God that He drew you that way. The little you described is awesome. I love that you dug in the way you did. It’s like . . . you discovered the treasure.”
“That’s exactly what it was like,” Libby said. “I grew up hearing Bible verses, but suddenly they came alive to me, and they
were
like treasures.” Her eyes brightened. “I remember reading in the gospel of John—and I can’t remember exactly how it’s said—but it was about becoming a child of God, and it said being born, not of blood . . .” She stared off, trying to remember.
“Or of the will of the flesh,” Travis said, “or of the will of man . . .”
Libby finished it. “But of God.” She said it with awe. “How many times have I heard that? But that time, I was, like, wow . . . that’s what being born again is all about. When
God
does it. Then all these other verses about being ‘recreated’ came at me—like the verses in I John about being born of God.” Libby stopped. “I could go on and on. It was so good.”
Travis was staring at her. “I’m standing here thinking that all these years I’ve known you, we’ve never once had a conversation like this.”
Libby reflected on that. “I told Aunt Gwynn that my heart had been broken from the one relationship that was meaningful to me. But as I think about it, it’s like you said. We weren’t having conversations like this. So I wonder what I thought was so meaningful about it.”
“I don’t think it’s so hard to figure out.” He joined her again on the swing. “There was always a spark between us—sometimes nearing explosion—and also a deep affection and caring. It wasn’t grounded in the right things, true. But the special connection has always been there.”
She didn’t know if she wanted to know, but she had to ask. “You think . . . still?”
“I know still.”
“But like I said, Trina is your reality now, and—”
“Libby, look around. Do you see Trina?”
He paused for her answer, but she only looked down.
“I actually invited her here today.”
Curious, Libby turned back toward him.
“Janelle invited me to dinner after church. Trina was also at church, and they’re friends, so Janelle said I could feel free to invite her too. And I did, but she said no.”
“Why?”
“She said she saw the dynamic last week when you were leaving and everyone but me went to greet you. She said that wasn’t like me, and that I wasn’t myself afterward—just like after we saw you at Mama Jay’s.” He paused. “I was really sorry about that, by the way.”
Libby simply let him continue.
“So she asked me pointedly if there was romantic history between us, which opened up a long conversation that ended with her saying I didn’t feel the same connection with her that she felt for me.” He hesitated, looking at nothing in particular. “She said I still had feelings for you.”
“What did you say?”
“I couldn’t say anything. I knew she was right. But I thought to myself,
Great. I’ll never have a serious relationship if I can’t get over these
feelings I have for a woman I can’t be with.
”
“It makes sense to me now,” Libby said. “We were in two different worlds. I was still in darkness. You were in the light.” The magnitude of it all struck her. “I understand why you couldn’t be with me.”
Travis stared at her for long seconds. “But that’s not the case anymore.”
Libby felt his words deep in her heart, and at the same time, her mind was poised to reject them.
“Travis, I’m not the woman you deserve. You changed right after college, but I’ve had another ten years of living in ways that . . . well, weren’t pleasing to God. You need a woman who’s—”
“What, perfect?” he said. “She doesn’t exist. And if she did, she wouldn’t want me because I’m not perfect. What matters is we’ve both been changed by the grace of God.” His gaze penetrated. “You are
more
than I deserve. Just the thought that God would give me the one person I’ve been crazy about my entire life.”
“Really?”
“Are you kidding? I was crazy about you when we were running
around in this very backyard, and you were telling me to stop bugging you.”
“Yeah, literally.” Libby laughed faintly. “Chasing me with those stupid worms.”
He took her hand. “Come here.”
“Where are we going?”
He led her down the steps and into the yard.
“But the grass is wet, Travis.”
“You’ll live.”
They walked beyond the main backyard over to a clearing and stopped at the water tower.
“Remember this?” he said.
Her mind traveled back in time. “That night you found me during hide-and-seek, and per the rules—rules you boys had changed up—the one seeking could pick one person they found and kiss them.”
“And I picked you. But you would only let me kiss you on your hand. Like this.” He was holding her hand still and lifted it, kissing the back.
Goose bumps danced up Libby’s arm. “I’m pretty sure it didn’t give me that feeling, though.”
“You don’t think so?” He kissed the inside of her hand.
“No. I’m certain.”
He put his arms around her and brought her close, gazing into her eyes. “I’m just wondering if you have that same aversion to a real kiss right now.”
She could feel his heart beating against hers. “It’s not like we’ve never had a real kiss.”
“But like our conversation, I think this will be more meaningful too.”
His lips brushed hers, and as the kiss deepened, she knew it was true. This kiss was more meaningful than any they’d had—because
it was much more than a kiss. For the first time, she sensed hope and promise between them. She didn’t know where it would lead, nor did she fear where it would lead. Another first . . . she would trust God with the outcome.
V
IRAL
F
ACEBOOK
V
ID
L
INKED TO
T
EEN’S
S
UICIDE
“Are you serious? Front page of the local section? Let me see that.” Stephanie took the newspaper from Marcus and leaned against the kitchen counter, reading.
Janelle walked in looking harried, searching for her car keys, ready to run the kids to school. She did a double take at Marcus. “What’re you doing here on a weekday morning?”
“We closed the school today,” Marcus said, “although I’m about to go in for a meeting regarding our response in terms of the media, grief counselors, etc. I got the morning paper and wanted to make sure you all had seen it.”
Janelle looked over Stephanie’s shoulder and gasped. “It’s in the paper?”
“I was shocked too,” Stephanie said. “Not that it’s strange for something like this to make the news. Given the facts, the headline wrote itself. But being such a part of what happened, it
is
strange to see it written up like this.” She pointed at a paragraph. “And look, it says Sam’s mother found her and called 911.”
“They got one thing right, though.” Marcus poured a bowl of cereal. “It names Ben Willoughby as the one responsible for making and posting the video, and talks about his arrest.”
“Wow, they even tie in that he’s the grandson of Skip Willoughby and reference
his
arrest this weekend,” Janelle said.
Daniel came in. “Mom, we’ve been waiting outside. We’re gonna be late.”
“We’re leaving right now. Tiffany and Claire are out there?”
Daniel gave her a look.
“Okay. You did say
we
. Let’s go.” She looked at Stephanie. “Save that so I can read the rest.”
“See, this is what I’ve been saying.” Stephanie laid the paper down. “They covered everything in that article from cyberspace bullying to teen suicide statistics to the Willoughby family. But very little about Sam herself.”
“I noticed that.” Marcus wiped some milk from his lip. “I’m guessing they rushed out the story before they could amass a profile of her.”
The side door opened and banged close, footsteps moving quickly inside. It was Todd. “Hey, Becca said to turn to Channel 29. They said they’re about to cover a tragic story in a small town that’s left a community devastated, and they showed Sam’s picture.”
“It made national news?” Marcus said.
The three of them hurried to the family room, and Stephanie turned it on. They were returning from a commercial break. The anchor focused on two political stories and an international story, then—
“We are just getting word of a tragic story that unfolded this weekend in the small town of Hope Springs, North Carolina,” the anchor said, “involving an alleged sexual assault of a teen that was apparently
videotaped”
—the anchor, who was female, couldn’t hide her disgust—“and, believe it or not, placed on Facebook.”
Sam’s picture came onscreen as the woman continued with the video going viral and the teen committing suicide as an apparent result.
“We’ll have updates on this story as we get them,” she said.
“Unbelievable,” Stephanie said. “Seeing Sam’s picture in the corner of the screen like that . . .”
“I’d better get to school,” Marcus said. “Now that the story’s national, we’ll be getting even more media requests.”
As he prepared to leave, Stephanie turned to Todd.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I loved your message yesterday,” she said. “Even though it wasn’t directly related to what happened, the points you made about our eternal hope and this not being our home were right on time.”
“It was a tough message to give,” Todd said. “I didn’t know Sam—only had small talk with her here a couple of times—but she seemed like a special girl.” His countenance changed a little. “And I’m sorry you had to witness that scene by Skip Willoughby. If it bothered me, I’m sure it bothered you.”
“Oh, it bothered me all right,” Stephanie said. She hesitated. “You don’t have to answer if it’s confidential, but I’m wondering if the church will take any action where he’s concerned. Does he get to maintain his position as elder?”
“The elder board and I are meeting with him tomorrow,” Todd said, “and I’ll say this—under the qualifications for elder spelled out in the Bible, there are grounds for him to be disqualified.”
“Huh. That’s really ironic.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know Libby was here yesterday. And she was giving me details last night about a conversation she had with Aunt Gwynn about Skip Willoughby.”
He looked at her intently. “Tell me about it.”
Stephanie did, down to the detail about Willoughby telling
Todd’s granddad that the relationship between his son and Aunt Gwynn was evidence that
he
didn’t meet the qualifications for pastor, and that he’d be removed if he didn’t put an end to that relationship, among other possible consequences.
Todd’s jaw was tight. “Who heard Skip Willoughby say that?”
“I gather your dad did, and shared it immediately with Aunt Gwynn. Once Skip issued that ultimatum, your grandparents and mine put pressure on them to separate.”
Todd stared at her, but Stephanie knew he didn’t see her. “I have to go. I’m calling Keisha so she can put me in touch with her mom. I need to hear this firsthand.”
He left out the side door, and Stephanie headed back to the kitchen, heart and mind heavy. She had just finished loading the dishwasher when a knock sounded at the front door.