She gave her head an emphatic shake. “Nope.”
“Because if you start clowning me . . .”
“Never.”
“Good. Because you’ve got one too.” He took hers out of the bag. “Turn around.” Travis placed it over her head and tied the back. “Now we’re official.”
Libby looked at him. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. Not just the aprons. Everything.”
“I said I would help you this weekend, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. Anyway, it’s partly selfish. My mouth is already watering for these hush puppies.”
Janelle was walking by as he said it. “As long as you don’t get near the fish, we’re good.”
Travis picked up the tongs and aimed them at her. “Don’t start, Janelle. You should be encouraging my budding skills.”
“Whether they’re budding is yet to be seen.” She came closer,
surveying their operation. “And actually, I’m wondering who sanctioned this idea of you and Libby cooking anything in mass amounts for actual people. It’s kind of scary.”
“Everybody’s a naysayer.” Libby wagged her finger at her cousin. “You just wait. You’ll be fighting for seconds.”
“Mm-hm.” Janelle gave them a pointed look. “I’ll give you this. You look cute in the matching aprons.”
“You know it. Team Wood!” Travis bellowed.
Libby’s dad heard and looked over. “That’s right!” He pumped a fist. “Team Wood!”
Travis flexed his arms like he was entering a boxing ring, tongs still in hand.
Libby laughed, taking in the moment. It was all in fun, but they hadn’t had this much fun in more than a decade. Much as she tried not to, her mind drifted to thoughts of whether the two of them could ever one day really be a team . . .
“People are arriving in droves now,” he said.
“Yeah, we’d better get moving. The good thing is it won’t take long.”
Travis took the aluminum foil off of the first pan. “I think we’re good to go.”
Libby was suddenly apprehensive. “Did you pray?”
“Pray?”
“Over the hush puppies, that they’d turn out delicious—and wouldn’t give anyone food poisoning.”
Travis chuckled. “All right. Team Wood’ll huddle up.” He put an arm around her, and they bowed their heads. “Lord, you know the two of us can’t cook . . .”
Libby smiled at the way he talked to God.
“. . . but this task seemed easy enough even for us. I pray it turns out well, doesn’t make anybody sick . . . And thank You for the friendship Libby and I are building again after all these years. Amen.”
Her stomach got butterflies. “Amen.”
“Ready or not,” Travis said, lifting the tongs again.
He placed several hush puppies into the stainless steel basket, then lowered it into the oil to the tune of loud sizzles and crackling.
They saw Todd approaching from his yard to theirs, which were one for purposes of reunion activities.
“Hey, Libby,” he said, “just got off the phone with Keisha. She’s definitely not coming.”
Libby sighed. “I know. I talked to her too. Thought I could per-suade her when she vacillated a little, maybe at least come for Sunday. But she decided it would be too much.” She added, “Of course Aunt Gwynn was a no from the beginning.”
Aunt Gwynn, the youngest of Grandma Geri’s children, had only returned to Hope Springs once since leaving as a teen, pregnant with Keisha, three decades ago. The families had learned only this year that Keisha’s father was Jim Dillon, Todd’s dad. Because they were an interracial couple, their parents pressured them to break up. And Aunt Gwynn had never forgiven Grandma Geri.
Todd looked disappointed. “I didn’t get to spend much time with Keisha or her husband and son at Grandma Geri’s funeral. I was hoping for that this weekend.”
“Libby Lou!”
Todd moved on as Libby turned to see who was calling her. “Hey, Aunt Louise, you just get in?”
“Got here this afternoon,” her great-aunt said. “Took a nap at the hotel, now here I am.”
Travis hugged her. “Aunt Louise, you’re looking well.” He bent a little, looking at the boy beside her. “I know that’s not Jamar. You’ve gotten so big. How you doing, young man?”
Jamar, who couldn’t be more than four, scooted behind his grandmother.
Aunt Louise prodded him. “Boy, stop being so shy and speak up. These are your relatives.”
Libby was sure Travis had been to so many reunions that some thought he was somehow related.
Aunt Louise eyed Travis. “I hear you’re pastoring New Jerusalem now. You married yet?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You know you need a first lady, don’t you? Handsome man such as yourself . . . What’s the problem?”
“Um . . . no problem. Just hasn’t happened yet.” He smiled. “I’m praying about it, though.”
“Good, good!” She turned to Libby. “And what about you, Miss Libby Lou? You any closer to walking down the aisle?”
“I don’t plan to get married,” she said, her standard answer.
Aunt Louise waved her away. “Chile, you just wait. All it takes is one man to knock you off your feet.”
Libby offered a thin smile and breathed a sigh of relief as other relatives came to greet Aunt Louise. Happily returning to the hush puppies, she lifted the basket from the oil.
“Travis, look. They look good, don’t they? Deep golden brown.” She scooped them with a slotted spoon into a pan lined with paper towels.
“I hope they taste as good as they look,” he said.
Jamar was checking them out. “Can I try one?”
“Oh, so you
do
talk?” Libby smiled. “Tell you what. You give me a hug, and I’ll give you one. You can be our first customer.”
He wrapped his arms around her tight, and Libby laughed. She put three on a paper towel. “Let ‘em cool off before you eat them, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Libby put more into the basket, thinking about what Travis
had said. She glanced at him. “Are you really praying for a wife, Mr. I’m-Not-Ready-to-Commit?”
Travis looked at her. “Libby, that was a long time ago, in college.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He shrugged lightly. “Sure. That’s something I pray about.” He paused. “Are you really planning
not
to get married?”
“Yep.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Oh, you can read my mind now?”
“Don’t have to read your mind. I know you.” He lowered the hush puppies into the oil. “Deep down, you have a very real desire for a committed relationship.”
“That was a long time ago, in college.”
Travis stared at her, and she knew they were both remembering that long-ago time.
“Libby . . . sometimes I wish we could—”
“These are good!” Jamar had returned, looking as if he wanted more.
“Can I get some?” his older brother said.
Aunt Louise was with them. “I tasted one of Jamar’s,” she said. “It was delicious. Are they ready to serve?”
“Really? You liked it?” Libby grinned. “Actually, we have to take them to the buffet table and everything will be served from there.” She nodded toward the tented area.
“That’s not gonna work.”
Libby turned to see that Marcus had joined them—and was eating a hush puppy he’d apparently swiped.
“The line will be long,” Marcus continued, “and when people find out how good these are, they’ll go fast.” He licked his fingers. “If you keep it over here, I can have as many as I want.”
Travis laughed. “Spoken like a true hungry bachelor.”
Marcus reached for another one, and Libby swatted his hand.
“I have to remain firm.” Libby spoke as if it were a somber occasion. “As much as I love you all, I must guard the interests of the family as a whole. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to fend for yourself at the buffet table. I wish you the best.”
Marcus nodded slowly in defeat and stepped away, then darted back and stole another one.
“Boy!” Libby tried to swat him again, but he ran, hush puppy in hand.
She turned to Travis. “Can you believe it? We actually cooked something edible—and good!”
“Didn’t I tell you? We’re the team to beat!”
He high-fived her. And Libby’s heart skipped when their hands clasped and came down together.
C
harley guided her car into a makeshift parking lot on the gravel outside the Sanders’ family home and let the motor run. She’d gone back and forth about whether to come. Seemed a fun idea when Stephanie and Janelle asked. She didn’t know them well, but they were easy to like. Easy to connect with. Sort of like their cousin. And that’s what was giving her pause.
She’d finally admitted it to herself—she had a crush on Marcus Maxwell. She couldn’t stop thinking about their meeting yesterday, how their conversation flowed naturally to God and faith. She’d never had that with Jake. He’d been faithful about church on Sunday, but in the day-to-day, spiritual depth was lacking . . . which was fine until her walk with God deepened in college. From there the spiritual chasm between them increased, even as they planned their wedding—all the way to the breakup.
She’d vowed afterward to make faith “the main thing” when it came to guys. And Marcus had looks, personality,
and
that main thing. But so what? That’s what she kept saying to herself. What difference did it make? It wasn’t like he’d ever know she liked him. She wasn’t
the type to show it. And he seemed content to keep a professional wall between them. When they passed in the halls this morning, he was cordial as ever, but she was still Coach Willoughby. And his only other comment—while looking back, walking—referenced an administrative matter.
Another car pulled up beside her, and a family got out. Charley looked toward the house. The thought of seeing Marcus—especially a more personal side of him—was intriguing. But why encourage a silly infatuation? Either she’d be leaving town, so it wouldn’t matter, or she’d be staying and it wouldn’t matter, given the professional boundaries between them.
Or she wasn’t his type, so none of it mattered.
Ugh. Charley, really?
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She was being silly, all right, letting her mind dwell on this. She finally cut the engine and hopped out. Enjoy her time with Stephanie and Janelle—that’s what she would do. And as she followed the sounds of music, laughter, and kids, she got excited about just that.
She entered the backyard, one that stretched a long ways left to right, and saw a lively atmosphere and people everywhere—at picnic tables, mingling, some dancing.
“Charley! Hey!” Janelle was waving from a welcome table.
Charley waved back as she walked over. “This is amazing.” She hugged her. “I’ve never been to a family gathering like this.”
Janelle smiled. “I’m told it’s unique, but it’s all I’ve known my entire life.” She turned to the guy beside her. “Kory, this is Charley, one of my Soul Sisters. Charley, this is Kory . . .” She searched for words, then turned her puzzled look up at him. “How do I describe you? ‘Boyfriend’ sounds funny to me, at our age.”
Kory chuckled. “First, nice to meet you, Charley.” He shook her hand. “The problem is Janelle can’t bring herself to say I’m the guy who met her at one of these reunions at eighteen, fell in love with her, and then was ignored and forgotten when we went off to
college. But a decade and a half later, here we are. She finally agreed to date me.”
“Are you serious?” Charley said. “That’s how you met?”
“And that’s about the only part of his story that’s accurate,” Janelle said.
Kory draped an arm around her. “So we’re
not
dating?”
“Okay, I guess that part is true too.”
“You
guess
it’s true?”
Charley folded her arms, smiling at them. “You two are too cute.”
Janelle put her arm around his waist, eyeing Charley. “I’ll fill you in on the real details of how Kory ignored
me
after I went off to—”
“Coach Willoughby?”
Charley turned, her stomach doing a little flip. Marcus looked handsome even in casual shorts and an athletic tee.
“Hey, didn’t know you’d be here,” he said.
Handshake. Ever the professional.
“Hey, Mr. Maxwell.” Charley tucked her hair behind an ear. “I didn’t either, till last night. Janelle and Stephanie invited me.”
Janelle folded her arms. “I get ‘Coach’ and ‘Mr.’ in the school building,” she said. “But really? Y’all can’t be Marcus and Charley on a Friday night?”
Marcus gave his cousin a sheepish smile. “A little formal?”
“You think?”
Another family walked into the backyard and headed for the welcome table.
“Marcus,” Janelle said, “could you show Charley to the food and drinks and all that good stuff? Not sure where Steph is. I should only be a minute, until somebody takes our place.”
Charley did a quick glance at the nearby crowd to see if she could spot Stephanie herself. Time with Marcus was exactly what she didn’t need.