Sam had a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other when Stephanie pulled out the chair next to her. “Hi,” Stephanie said. “You mind?”
Sam glanced up at her. “No.”
Stephanie sat and began taking out her lunch as well.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, you know.”
Stephanie looked at her. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re not the first teacher to sit with me,” Sam said. “People feel sorry because I’m by myself. But I’m fine.”
Stephanie opened her chips and ate one. “So you prefer being by yourself?”
Sam shrugged. “Beats the alternative.”
“What’s the alternative?”
She took a bite of her sandwich. Looked like peanut butter and jelly.
“Sitting with a bunch of girls who talk to each other about guys or who’s wearing what or who did what over the weekend.” She shrugged again. “They never include me in the conversation. I mean, why would they? So I might as well be by myself . . . I mean, I’m not always by myself. I talk to kids in some of my classes. But like I said, it’s fine.”
Stephanie tried to mask her heart’s reaction. She ate some of her sandwich and took a sip of water. “So, sounds like you’re not into guys or gossip—which is a good thing, if you ask me. What sort of things do you like to do?”
Sam held up her book. “Reading, for one.”
“What do you like to read?”
“Weird stuff,” she said, “like Pride and Prejudice and The Iliad.”
“Why is that weird?” Stephanie offered her a chip, but she declined.
“It’s just not what kids read, unless it’s assigned. Even then, they get the CliffsNotes . . . or they’ll ask me what it’s about.”
“You mean people who might not otherwise talk to you will ask you for help with assignments? And you give it?”
She shrugged. “Yeah.”
“You have a kind heart, Sam,” Stephanie said. “When I was in high school, if someone never spoke to me but had the nerve to ask for my help with something, I’d tell them to jump in a lake.”
Sam’s eyes got a little wide. “Really? I can’t see you doing that.”
“Trust me,” Stephanie said. “That and a lot more. No one accused me of being nice in high school.” Stephanie took another bite of her sandwich. “I wish I’d been more like you.”
Sam’s little nose wrinkled. “Why?”
“You’re a nice girl,” Stephanie said, “obviously focused on doing well in school—which I wasn’t. And you don’t seem to be into looking like everybody else or trying to be like everybody else, which is great.”
“Well.” Sam glanced downward. “I can’t, so . . .”
“Can’t what?”
“Be like everybody else.” She stared at her half-eaten sandwich. “We don’t have much money, so my clothes are ratty and . . . I think that’s why they don’t want to be my friend.” She paused. “But it’s fine.”
Stephanie felt the sting of tears in her eyes, but she fought them. What to say, what to say? “Can I be your friend?” she said, which had to be the dumbest thing to say. Right. Friends. Teacher and student, buddy-buddy. It was probably illegal.
Sam’s brows bunched. “I don’t really see how . . .”
“To be honest, Sam, I don’t see how either. I just know I want to. I’ll leave the rest up to God.”
Oh shoot. She wasn’t supposed to mention God in school, was she? Or could she? Marcus would probably be firing her by the end of the day.
Sam looked warily at her. “Why do you want to?”
The question took Stephanie aback. “Because . . . I think you’re a unique girl. You’re special.”
Sam put her eyes back to the page, her hand shaking slightly.
“Sam? Is something wrong?”
“No. It’s just . . .” She shrugged. “Only one other person’s ever told me that.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Wednesday, August 11
Janelle took a pad full of notes to Travis’s office, poking her head in the door. Seeing him with a phone to his ear, she thought to come back, but he waved her in. She took a seat across from him. Every time she’d ventured into his office this week, her eyes went to one place—past the stacks of books, random piles of paper, and scattered sticky notes to a single framed photo.
It was taken in the late eighties in Grandma Geri’s backyard, four ten-year-olds making silly faces at the camera—Travis, Libby, Janelle, and Todd, in that order. When she’d first noticed it, it jogged the memory that Travis was always bugging Libby, always teasing Libby, always pulling pranks on Libby—always near Libby. And that was only the times Janelle was there to see it, when she was visiting during summers, Christmas, and Easter. But given that Libby grew up nearby, she saw Travis much more than that.
The picture had been Todd’s, who’d mentioned finding it when he packed to move back to hope springs several months ago. Janelle and Travis had asked for a copy. But Janelle was surprised to see that Travis had had a notion to frame his and display it on his desk.
He ended his call, looking hopefully at her. “Good news?”
She affirmed with a single nod. “Lots. First this fun part.” She turned to a page of notes. “Did some Googling and found instructions for how to upload your sermons to iTunes so people can download them for free. I’m going to get on that right away.”
“Such a great idea, Janelle,” Travis said. “I thought we were doing something when we started recording sermons and selling the CDs at cost. But iTunes is where our younger members live. They’ll be able to listen wherever.”
“And not just members. People can recommend particular sermons to friends and family, and they’ll be able to download them in seconds. It’s a great way to reach people far and wide. And, of course, so is a website.” She turned to another page. “The web guy from my old church got back to me. He can redesign New Jerusalem’s site for a fraction of the other two quotes you got. And he’s good.” She laid the page of notes comparing price quotes in front of him.
“What?” Travis picked it up to see better. “If I hadn’t seen the sites he’s already done, I’d be skeptical about the quality. Why so much lower?”
“It’s not his main job,” Janelle said. “He does it for the love, says he gets to work a different side of his brain. But since it’s not his main job, he only does it by word of mouth, as he has time. Plus, he’s a bit of a perfectionist, so oftentimes it takes him longer to be happy with the look than the client. The upside is he doesn’t charge an arm and a leg.” Janelle added, “But if you’re in a rush, he’s not your guy.”
Travis turned to his computer, where he’d pulled up the New Jerusalem website. “I’ve waited this long. I don’t mind waiting a little longer to get a quality site for a good price. It’s a go. I’m looking forward to hearing his ideas.”
“Cool. I’ll let him know and put you two in touch.” She flipped the page. “Last piece of business I came in here for . . .” A smile spread over her face. “Kory and I have a date. That is, if it fits with your schedule.”
He looked confused. “What does my schedule have to do with it?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Like Grandma Geri used to tell you, ‘Don’t play with me, boy.’”
He laughed. “I can hear her now. And you know I’d marry you and Kory even if you didn’t want me to. What date are you looking at?”
She crossed her legs. “Since it’s a second wedding for both of us, we want to keep it small—”
“How small?”
“Maybe just Kory, me, and the kids.”
“Uh-huh. You’ll never pull that off. Go on.”
“We can dream, can’t we?” she said. “Anyway, however small it is, it won’t take much planning. And we don’t see the point of a long engagement. So we’re thinking the first weekend in October.”
He checked his calendar and made a notation. “All clear on this end. We need to schedule premarital ses
sions too. I’ll check with Kory—”
The church phone rang.
“I’ll get that,” Janelle said. She reached over and picked up. “Good afternoon, New Jerusalem Church.”
“Hi . . . Janelle? This is Charley.”
“Hey, Charley, why didn’t you call my cell?”
“Actually, I was calling for Pastor Travis. I knew I’d see you later.” She had a smile in her voice. “Is he available?”
“Let me check. One moment.” She put the call on hold. “Charley wants to speak with you.”
“I’ll take it,” he said. “Wait right here.” He answered, “Charley, hello, what can I do for you? . . . Membership? . . . I don’t understand.”
Janelle wished she could hear Charley’s side of the conversation.
“Sure,” he said. “Friday at four will work. See you then.”
He hung up the phone slowly.
“Charley’s doing it, isn’t she? Taking steps to become a member?”
“You knew about this?” Travis said.
“She’s been talking about it all week,” Janelle said. “But it’s not like it’s out of the blue. She was here on Sunday.”
“Which was also a problem.”
Janelle moved forward in her chair. “A problem?”
“When Skip found out, he told Todd it was an unfortunate byproduct of the joint service. When they find out she wants to join . . .” He stared off, thinking.
She looked at him. “I can tell you’re still disappointed about the joint service.”
“How can I not be?” He sat back, let out a sigh. “You were there, Jan, when Todd and I realized we felt God called us back to Hope Springs to do a new thing, as Isaiah 43 says. That’s when it hit us that we needed to pray together. And what we kept hearing was unity between the churches. Everything pointed toward the combined service.” He paused several seconds. “I feel like we took a giant step forward, focused on God. But when the focus shifted to reaction and opinion, we took several steps back.”
Janelle pondered that. “But like Todd said, you have elders to answer to, and a church membership. You’re not islands unto yourselves.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I just think we gave up the fight too easily.” His gaze shifted to the photo. “And the hardest part is I don’t feel I can tell Todd exactly what’s on my heart and mind. I have to tread lightly because I don’t want to get between him and his elder board.”
“That discussion last week was treading lightly?”
“You know me. I tried. But now, thanks to Charley, I’ve got another issue that’s related to Todd’s elder board, literally.”
“So you’re focused on reaction and opinion?” Janelle smiled. “From what I can see, Charley’s experiencing a ‘new thing’ in her life as well. She wouldn’t be doing this if God wasn’t moving in her heart.”
Travis eyed Janelle, steepling his fingers. “You just earned your paycheck for the week.” He nodded to himself. “I’ve been duly checked. I’ve got to keep my focus on God.”
“You sure do,” Janelle said. “By the sound of it, things may get worse before they get better.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Charley walked into New Jerusalem for Wednesday night Bible study, late and looking for Stephanie. With Lindell in Haiti this week, they’d had lots of girl time—dinner, an evening walk, even a board game. That they were now attending the same church was icing on the cake. Stephanie had quickly become a treasured friend.
Charley spotted her midway up the aisle and scooted past a few people to join her.
“Thought you were on your way fifteen minutes ago,” Stephanie said.
“You won’t believe this,” Charley said, whispering, “but my grandpa was at the house and flat-out told me I needed to be going to Calvary’s Bible study tonight, not New Jerusalem’s. I’ve never seen him so agitated. Like I was hurting him.”
“He’s been a Calvary elder a long time. It’s in his blood. Maybe he can’t fathom that you’d even want to go anyplace else.”
“It’s good to see everybody tonight,” Pastor Travis said.
Charley hadn’t seen him walk up front. She glanced around the sanctuary, which was nowhere near as crowded as Sunday, but the pews were still half full. Charley saw Trina and two other Soul Sisters near the back. And as the door opened and a handful more entered, she saw Marcus. She turned back around.
Travis stood between the front pews, talking into a wireless mic. “Are you all ready for this deep discussion we’re about to have about love? I see y’all out there, all dreamy-eyed.”
People smiled back at him.
“I’m gonna let you all in on a secret,” Travis said. “I’m not married.” He smiled. “Okay, that’s not the secret. This is . . . It might be because for a long time I had the wrong view of love. I thought it was something that just happened. I would meet someone, firecrackers would start popping, Cupid’s arrow would fire, and I’d be knocked silly off my feet.” He paused. “I guess y’all can see why I’m not married.”
“That’s all right, Pastor, I got a few people I can introduce you to,” an older woman said.
“You can leave their résumés,” Pastor Travis said, “but only if they include gourmet cooking skills.”
“Gotcha covered,” she said.
When the laughter subsided, he continued, “But seriously, love is not the dreamy, mysterious thing we make it out to be. Love is real. It means action. It means risk. It means decision.” He walked to the other side of the church, surveying faces. “Did you know you can decide to love? You don’t check your minds at the door where love is concerned. Sometimes you have to say, ‘I don’t care if so-and-so doesn’t show me love, I’ll love because God commands me to.’ That’s a decision.”
Charley turned as he walked down the aisle.
“You might have to decide you’re going to love someone despite what people will think or say—despite what it will mean for your life. Love reigns above people’s opinions. It reigns above the status quo. It reigns above all. One of the most important decisions you’ll ever make is to set your heart and mind on loving God with everything in you.” He let that settle as he walked back to the front. “That’s what we’re focusing on tonight.”
Bible study had ended several minutes before, but many remained, talking to the pastor, mingling. Some of the Soul Sisters had formed an impromptu circle and were chatting.
Charley saw Marcus in her peripheral vision, talking to a few guys. She’d barely seen him at school this week, and the void was glaring. She couldn’t understand it. They hadn’t spent that much time together. Shouldn’t it be easy to erase?
Stephanie turned to Charley and Trina. “Ready? We can walk out together.”
“You two go ahead,” Trina said. “I’m waiting to talk to Travis.”
Charley and Stephanie headed out.
“I’m parked right over there,” Stephanie said when they got outside. “Where are you?”
“Around the corner,” Charley said. “See you at school tomorrow. Meant to tell you I love that you’re eating with Sam.”
The Color of Hope Page 16
