The Color of Hope (35 page)
“Not at all,” the reporter said. “Her story moves me, and I never met her.” He paused. “I’d love for you to share with us the special way you’re remembering her.”
“And I’d love to do so,” Stephanie said. “Sam’s mom was kind in allowing me to learn even more of Sam’s heart through her journal.” She held it up. “In it Sam wrote that she wished the two churches in town had continued their joint services, because she felt a sense of belonging there. If you don’t mind, I’d like to read a short quote.”
“Absolutely,” the reporter said.
“’I don’t know a lot about how these things work, but it doesn’t seem like it should be a hard thing for Christians to come together. Why couldn’t there be unity?’” Stephanie closed the journal, and her hand went to a red ribbon on her chest. “So in honor of Sam, we’re wearing these unity ribbons. It would be easy for a town to
be forever fractured after a tragedy like this, to carry hatred toward certain individuals, to cling to division. Instead, we’re praying for people to honor God by coming together.” She smiled. “And we chose red because it was Sam’s favorite color.”
The reporter nodded at Stephanie, then looked directly at the camera. “And Sam is being remembered another way. When people heard she still slept with a teddy bear at night, they began leaving teddy bears on the front stoop, which has spilled over into the yard.” The camera shifted to a wide angle, revealing an abundance of bears and flowers. The reporter picked one up. “A note on this bear reads, ‘Sam, I wish I had sat with you at lunch.’” The reporter looked visibly moved as he sent it back to the studio.
Charley wiped a tear.
“Excuse me.” Dottie rose from the table, looking shaken, and left.
Charley heard sniffing and looked across the table. Ben’s head was down, his shoulders heaving. She went and sat beside him.
“Ben? You wanna talk?”
“I did that to her,” he said. “I did that to her!”
He slung a pile of papers across the table and onto the floor and got up, fists balled, looking like he wanted to beat the air. Instead, he opened a drawer just to slam it shut. Then he picked up a glass and cocked it back—
“Ben, stop!” She ran over to him. “Put that down. It’s okay, Ben. Put it down.”
He lowered the glass and himself to the floor. “I did that to her . . .” His whole being sobbed. “I was drunk, Charley. I’m not making excuses. But I was drunk and thinking how I could get Kelsey back.” He didn’t bother to stop the tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt Sam. But that’s the bad part. I don’t think I even
thought
about it. I used her. I
hurt
her.” He turned tortured eyes toward Charley. “I thought I was hiding her identity when I edited the video. I didn’t mean for it to . . .” He threw his head back with a groan. “Mom was
right. My life might be ruined, but at least I’ve got a life. I don’t care what happens to me, Charley. I don’t care.”
She held him, rocking her football-playing brother back and forth like a baby. So many words sat poised on her tongue, ready to shoot at him, ready to agree that every foul thing he thought about himself was true. But she stifled those words.
She would simply hold him and cry with him.
S
tephanie held the phone in the crook of her neck and clutched her robe tighter as she walked through the house, spying new faces.
Who
are
these people?
“That’s right,” she said into the phone. “All floral deliveries are being redirected to Children’s Hospital in Rocky Mount. Thanks.” She almost hung up but brought the phone back quickly. “You know we’re keeping the red ones, though, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the local florist said.
“Okay, great.”
She walked into the dining room. “How’s it coming, girls?”
Tiffany, Claire, and Dee were on their knees in chairs, hunched over the table as they labored over a white poster board.
“Look!” Claire said, pointing. “We put a blowed-up picture in the middle.”
Becca smiled, helping the girls angle and affix the pictures. “Blown-up, sweetheart.”
“Aww, I love that,” Stephanie said, “How’d you get it that big?”
“Kory went to a photo shop this morning and got various enlargements,” Becca said.
Teri had given what pictures she had, which weren’t many, so blowing them up made a huge difference.
“Ooh, I love this one too.” Stephanie pointed to a picture of Sam and the girls the night of the girls’ sleepover. “I remember taking that.”
The girls had cried when they were told Sam died. They hadn’t been told how. Although the school district had closed all Hope Spring schools for the day in honor of the memorial service, the girls wouldn’t be going. Their parents didn’t want to take the chance of their hearing what happened.
“I’m so proud of you girls,” Stephanie said. “This looks beautiful.”
Stephanie’s phone rang in her hand. “Sara Ann, sorry, forgot to call you back.”
“No prob, I know you’re busy,” Sara Ann said. “Just wanted to double-check. Did your voice mail say the punch
has
to be red? Because they’re telling me it’s gonna be more like pink.”
“Well, no, it doesn’t have to. We just want the color red to pop up in as many places as it can today, so I thought red punch would be cool. But no worries.”
Sara Ann spoke to someone in the room. “We can make something work,” she told Stephanie. “Now that I know why, I’ll make sure it happens.”
“Thanks, Sara Ann. And thanks again for asking Lila to keep the diner open and serve everyone like this. It’s amazing.”
“Sam is our Soul Sister,” Sara Ann said. “This is nothing.”
Lindell came up behind her as she hung up. “Steph, you need to start getting dressed. Service starts in two hours.”
“I know.” A text message dinged, and she glanced at her phone. “I’m trying to make sure everything comes off beautifully.” She sighed. “Why did Teri ask me to do this? The speaking part was already over the top, but then to plan the service too? It’s not like I know what I’m doing.”
“Teri was having a hard time handling arrangements when it was being held at the funeral home. Once it got moved to the school, it was way too big for her to handle.”
“For me too!”
“Not true,” Becca chimed in. “God’s grace has been all over you this week, with the interviews and with the planning of this service.”
Stephanie pictured that big gym and herself standing at the front of it. “I pray His grace is all over me this afternoon when I speak. I don’t want to break down, but I don’t want to be unemotional either. I don’t want to read it, but I don’t want to be cavalier, like, ‘I got this.’ You know?”
“Babe.” Lindell looked at her. “God’s got this. Go get ready.”
She lowered her voice. “By the way, who are those people in the living room?”
“Remember Teri said a reporter from a national paper asked to interview you two? He’s here with a camera guy.”
“I thought they were meeting us at the gym.”
“They want to talk to you beforehand,” Lindell said. “That’s why you need to get moving.”
A flurry of voices got louder and came nearer.
“Who is that?” Stephanie said.
She walked toward the sound. Janelle was heading toward her, and behind her—Cyd, Janelle’s parents, and Libby’s dad, Wood.
Stephanie looked shell-shocked. “What is this? What’s going on?”
“I went to get them from the airport,” Janelle said. “They wanted to be part of this.”
“But you didn’t even know Sam,” Stephanie said.
Cyd hugged her. “Sweetie, most of the people who will be here today didn’t know Sam. But you’ve made us want to celebrate her life.”
Aunt Estelle hugged her next. “And you’ve made us want to celebrate what God is doing in this town in bringing people together. I’ve been riveted by the news and how big this story has gotten, including the story of this town.
My
town.” She looked around. “I hope you’ve got some extra red unity ribbons around here.”
Stephanie wiped tears. “Y’all could’ve at least told me you were coming. This day is emotional enough.”
“I need all the women to move that way.” Lindell made his hands a megaphone. “Continue all conversation while getting dressed. We have a schedule to keep. Thank you.”
Stephanie glanced around. “Where’s my Chase?”
Cyd smiled. “Home with Dad. I decided to get a ticket last-minute.”
“Oh, so y’all didn’t hear me?” Lindell got behind them and prodded them both in the back toward their proper destination.
Stephanie looked around the bedroom at her family who’d gathered there—Cyd, Janelle, Aunt Estelle, and Aunt Gladys, who’d arrived minutes before. All of them wore white with a touch of red somewhere.
They were each hurrying, stepping into heels—red heels for Cyd—or dabbing on lip gloss, when a soft knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” several of them said.
It opened, and Teri peeked in. “Are you sure? Is it okay?”
“Teri, absolutely.” Stephanie brought her before the group. “Everyone, this is Sam’s mom, Teri.”
Stephanie introduced the members of her family, and each of them gave her a long hug.
“How are you holding up?” Aunt Estelle asked.
Teri nodded at Aunt Estelle, and kept nodding until the tears flowed. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Aunt Estelle grabbed her hand, Stephanie grabbed the other, and the rest gathered around.
“Lord, we pray Your strength upon Teri,” Aunt Estelle said. “We can’t imagine the weight of what she’s been carrying this week, the horror of losing a child, the unanswered questions and never-ending what-ifs. But, Lord, You said Your yoke is easy, and Your burden is light.” She rubbed Teri’s back. “I’m praying for Teri to give You her burden and, in exchange, walk in the grace that You so freely provide. Let this be a time of drawing near to You. I pray You wrap Your arms around her and cause her to feel the lavishness of Your love. Carry her through this day and the weeks to come with Your strong hand. In the mighty name of Jesus, we pray.”
“Amen,” rang out in the room.
“Thank you.” Teri stayed in the circle, squeezing their hands. “Thank you. I know I needed that.”
Lindell knocked and poked his head in. “The reporter’s going to ride with you and Teri to the service and talk to you on the way. Caravan’s leaving in fifteen.”
“Okay,” Stephanie said. “Thanks, babe.”
Teri wiped her face with her hands. “Guess I need to get myself together.” She looked at them all. “I have on this white skirt and blouse, but I don’t have any red.”
“Yes, you do,” Janelle said. “That red ribbon on your shirt speaks loud and clear.” She smiled. “But if you want extra, we’ve got everything here from red hair ribbons to red belts.” Janelle took her aside to help her.
A knock sounded again.
“You said we had fifteen,” Stephanie called.
The door opened, and Libby walked in. Behind her—Aunt Gwynn and Keisha.
The room was silent. The last time Stephanie and the others had seen Aunt Gwynn, she had entered the house with attitude, gave a rant, and left. Her older sisters, Estelle and Gladys, walked toward her.
“You’re really here?” Aunt Gladys said.
Aunt Gwynn nodded, her eyes smiling. “I’m really here.”
The three sisters hugged in their own little circle. Aunt Estelle, who’d been strong moments before as she prayed, was in tears.
“I can’t believe this,” Aunt Estelle said. “I can’t believe you’re here.” She turned around. “And Keisha.”
Time seemed to stand still as everyone hugged everyone, Teri included.
“How in the world did this come about?” Aunt Gladys asked. She looked up, shaking her head. “Will wonders never cease?”
Surprisingly, Aunt Gwynn went to Teri first. She took both of her hands.
“When I heard about your Sam, I was reminded so much of my Keisha’s upbringing—struggling to belong, to figure out who she is, to find her place in this world.” Aunt Gwynn’s eyes were warm. “And her heart’s cry in that journal has been my own heart’s cry for Hope Springs. In fact, I did cry when I heard Stephanie read her quote on the news, asking why there couldn’t be unity in the churches.”