Hope Springs (41 page)

Almost everyone had moved on to Grandma Geri's house. Janelle couldn't bring herself to leave.

She continued looking at the roses—Todd's idea. He and Travis had sat down with Grandma Geri more than a month ago, at her request, to go over her wishes for her funeral. Though Travis was her pastor and the service would take place at New Jerusalem, she'd wanted Todd to take part as well. Travis gave the eulogy; Todd followed with a sharing of the gospel. She knew Grandma Geri was looking down from heaven, proud of her boys.

Janelle hadn't been especially sad at the church or here at the cemetery. She'd gotten out her sadness earlier in the week—or so she thought. Today had felt like a celebration, a rejoicing that Grandma Geri's suffering had ended and she was with the Savior.

But the sadness returned as everyone headed to her grandmother's. The house would overflow with people, but most of them would be gone by tonight, all of them in a couple of days. And soon she'd be gone too. It hadn't hit her until now, but when the school year ended for Daniel in three weeks, there'd be no reason for them to stay. They would pack up and head home to Maryland. Her extended time in Hope Springs was just about over.

It would be yet another loss. No more extended visits with Libby or daily chats with Todd and Becca. No more Travis stopping by for pancakes. No more New Jerusalem or Soul Sisters. She would greatly miss those Saturday morning gatherings.

She'd go home . . . to what? Home reminded her that there was no more David. Maybe she should sell that house and move. That would help, but she felt the loss in her soul. Would it ever subside?

Well. It
had
subsided; not totally, but for a brief time she'd made room for someone else. But that was no more too. Everything was “no more.”

The sadness overtook her as she stared at the casket, and she began to weep.

Why, God? Why am I always experiencing loss?

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up.

Libby sat next to her. “Jan, I've been waiting for you in the car. Let's go. Don't sit here by yourself. You'll only feel worse.”

“You don't have to wait for me,” she said. “I can walk back.”

“No, you can't. Just the drive to the front of the cemetery is ridiculous.”

Janelle shook her head. “Well, I can't leave yet. I need some time.”

“Okay, I'll wait.” Libby walked back across the grass.

Janelle settled back into her thoughts.
Lord, I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to stay down here, but what sense does that make? Stay down here and do what? And would I stay in Hope Springs or Raleigh, near Libby? I don't know . . . Maryland is still my home. I love my church family there. I do have friends there
.

But no matter what I do, I'm sure that'll get taken from me too. Right, Lord? That's just my fate. Don't enjoy anyone or anything, because I'll look up and it'll be gone. And You know what? I'm tired of asking why. It is what it is. And I have to deal with it. I have to just deal with a life of perpetual sadness
.

She pulled a tissue from her purse, blowing her nose as her eyes reddened with tears. She felt a hand on her shoulder again.

“Libby, will you
please
—” She looked up, and everything in her world stopped.

He lifted her by the hand to her feet and brought her into his arms.

Her heart pounded inside her chest. Why was he here? Why was he holding her?

She backed up. “Kory, what are you doing? That's not . . . we can't . . .” The sobs that had gathered in her chest wouldn't let her finish.

He wiped the tears from her left cheek, then the right, and ran his finger slowly along her brow. “I'm sorry about the loss of your grandmother. You've been through so much.”

She turned away from him slightly, looking toward the casket. She only nodded.

“I went by the house, and Todd said you stayed behind at the cemetery. I decided to come here instead of waiting there.”

“You didn't have to come at all.” Janelle focused on the casket still. “In fact, it would've been better if you hadn't.”

“I almost didn't,” he said. “That's why I didn't make the service. I was trying to decide.”

“And you decided what? You'd come to Hope Springs, do the obligatory condolence thing, and leave—Kory, I can't. You made the wrong choice.”

She turned to go and saw in the distance there was only one car. “What happened to Libby?”

“I saw her when I drove up and said I'd give you a ride back.”

She groaned. “Would've been nice if Libby had asked if that was all right.”

“I told her I wanted to talk to you.”

She tossed her eyes. “Kory, what is there to say?”

“Shelley and I aren't together, Janelle.”

She looked at him dead-on. “Since when?”

“She left two months ago.”

Janelle stared at him, processing. “So you two were working on your marriage, and she left again? How did you feel?”

“I wasn't hurt like before, if that's what you're asking.” He sighed. “After you and I talked, I prayed like we agreed. I prayed hard. And I was really thrown when I felt like God did want me to cancel the hearing and try to reconcile my marriage. You have no idea how much I struggled with that.”

They sat back down and Janelle listened, staring at the ground.

“I kept hearing Him say I didn't have to trust
her
, but to trust
Him
. So I let her move in with us, in the guest bedroom. I told her we were taking it slow as far as the marriage was concerned, but I wanted to support her in her spiritual growth. So we found a church nearby and started going.”

“How were things with her and Dee?” Janelle asked.

“Iffy. Dee had a wall up. She was afraid to trust her too, thinking Shelley would leave again.”

Janelle waited for him to continue.

“It was weird,” he said. “I felt the same way I felt after she left the first time, that I didn't really know her. When we were together before, she was at the firm day and night. Now I was around her more, and we hardly had anything to talk about. And it was clear she was restless.” He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. “But I was trusting God, so I hung in. The important thing, I kept telling myself, was that she was going to church, hearing truth. But on the third and fourth Sundays, she said she didn't feel well and stayed home. By the fifth, she was gone.”

“Did she say why she was leaving?”

“She said Martin wanted her back, and after living with me again she was convinced we were never meant to be.” Kory sounded matter-of-fact.

Janelle looked at him. “Why didn't you—?” She looked away. She didn't know if she wanted to know.

He sat up and looked at her. “Why didn't I call you then? If you only knew . . . I was ready to call you the moment she left. But I felt this check. Like,
not yet
. I felt like God wanted me to wait until the divorce was final. But it was delayed because the court tried to say this was a new separation, and we'd have to wait another year.” He gave her a look. “You know I was ready to argue that one myself in court.”

“What happened?”

“My lawyer submitted a brief on the point. The good thing was her lawyer submitted a brief arguing the same point. The court agreed and scheduled the hearing. It was final on Tuesday.” His eyes were warm. “But I knew you were grieving, and it didn't seem like the right time to tell you. Kept going back and forth about whether today was the right time, but I just couldn't wait any longer.” He touched her face. “I had to see you.”

Janelle stared into his eyes. “I honestly don't know what to say.”

“Was it true what you said before?”

“What did I say?”

“That you love me.”

Her insides twirled. She couldn't believe she'd said it then, but she'd thought she might never see him again. “It's true.”

He pulled her up again and put his arms around her. “Tell me again.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I love you, Kory.”

“I love you too, Janelle.”

He looked deep into her eyes, and she couldn't believe they had this moment, after all this time, all these years. He kissed her, then kissed her again, and her skin tingled as they allowed it to linger.

“Say yes,” he said, their lips still touching.

Her heart leaped. “To what?”

“To our first”—he kissed her—“official”—kissed her again—“date.”

She laughed. “Absolutely yes.”

They kissed again, and Janelle let out a little giggle.

“What?”

“I feel like Grandma Geri is watching us.”

He peeked over at the coffin. “She is, just not from there.”

He took her hand and walked closer to the coffin. They stood there silently for a few moments, then Kory let go of her hand suddenly and moved to get something. She watched him pick up a rose that someone must've dropped. He placed it atop the coffin, then took her hand and walked her across the grass to his car.

“Where's Dee?” she asked.

“One guess.”

“At the house with Tiffany.”

“You're brilliant.” He smiled. “The hardest thing about waiting was having to endure a constant barrage of questions from Dee about why she couldn't go stay at Tiffany's.”

“So you were hearing it too? I wish I could've seen the BFF reunion.”

“It was quite a sight.” He looked at her. “But you know what got me? Daniel running to me when he saw me and throwing his arms around my waist.”

Janelle got a lump in her throat.

“And so,” he said, “I hereby submit the Dee-Tiffany reunion and the Daniel bear hug as my evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“In support of your need to relocate to North Carolina—although I stipulate that a move to Maryland could be considered for Dee and me.”

Janelle smiled. “There are more reasons for us to come here than for you two to go there.” Were they really talking about this?

“Ah, so I don't have to use as much oratorical persuasion as I thought?”

He unlocked the passenger door and opened it for her.

She paused. “Well . . . there's still a lot to consider. It's a big decision, and I can't just base it on
you
. I've learned how quickly things can—”

He slowly kissed her on the lips. “I thought it would help to employ a different brand of persuasion.”

She wondered if he knew how well that was working for him.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Sunday, May 9

S
tephanie and Lindell boarded the plane for St. Louis behind her mom, dad, Cyd, Cedric, and Chase. Stephanie paused halfway down the aisle while they put their luggage in the overhead bin and got situated. She reached over and pinched Chase's cheeks as he stood bouncing on Cyd's legs, that big smile on his face, then she continued on.

“Babe, where are you going?” Lindell said. “There're two seats right here behind them.”

They were on Southwest Airlines and could sit where they wanted.

Stephanie kept going, putting a few rows between the two of them and the rest of the family. She stopped near the back. “I wanted to be able to talk in private,” she said.

She stood aside as Lindell threw their carry-ons overhead, then let him have the window seat.

He buckled his belt. “I could tell you were preoccupied. I know it was hard saying good-bye to Grandma Geri.”

Stephanie pushed her handbag under the seat in front of her. “Bittersweet,” she said, looking for the second part of her seat belt. She found it under her seat and clicked them together. “Grandma always said don't be sad, because she'd be with Jesus and Grandpa Elwood.” She smiled faintly, thinking about it. “But I regret taking so long to get to know her. I can't believe I only spent real time with her in the last few months of her life.”

“Don't focus on what you didn't have, babe. The time you
did
have was sweet.” He held her hand across the armrest. “Cyd even said she envied how well you got to know Grandma Geri because of the concentrated time you had with her.”

“Yeah.” Stephanie sighed. “It was definitely a special time. I'm still trying to understand it, though. Was that
all
it was about, getting to know Grandma Geri? Helping to serve her?” She added quickly, “And if so, fine. It was more than worth it. But I feel like there's more. Like I'm supposed to
do
something, but I'm not sure what.” She looked at her husband. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

A teenager took the seat next to Stephanie, with her family across the aisle.

“I know what you mean,” Lindell said. “I still have an unsettled feeling after Haiti. It's almost like, how can life still be the same?”