Hope Springs (5 page)

Janelle's heart accelerated before she even laid eyes on him. She sucked in a breath, did a slight turn, saw him talking to someone, and turned back. “What's he doing here?”

Libby made a face. “Seriously, Jan?”

“You know what I mean. It's not like he was close to Pastor Jim or anything.”

Libby shrugged. “You never know who Pastor Jim impacted. Could've been one conversation.”

An usher walked past the two people waiting in front of them and leaned into Stephanie. “Grandma Geri saw you back here and asked me to come get you and your husband. We made room on the first pew.”

Libby had a look of mock indignation. “What about us?”

The usher smiled. “Wish we could've made more room near her. But you'll be seated in two minutes.”

Libby waved her hand. “I'm just kidding. I know Grandma couldn't wait to see them.”

Janelle watched Stephanie and Lindell follow the usher up a side aisle to the front, but her thoughts kept gravitating to who was behind her. She wanted to look again, but didn't. “Is his family with him?”

Libby shifted to scope out the scene better. “He's with his daughter and Kevin and his family.”

Kory's older brother, Kevin, had married into the Sanders family—on a great-aunt's side—when Janelle was eighteen. Janelle didn't make the wedding, but that same summer Kory had attended the Sanders family reunion for the first time. She remembered it well, summer before college.

“You know his wife left him, right?”

Janelle was stunned. “Kory's wife? Left him?”

“Left. Him. Girl, I thought I told you.” Libby lowered her voice. “As good a man as Kory is, she left him for someone else. It's always the nice guys who finish last.” Libby narrowed her eyes as if the woman were standing right there. “I knew she wasn't right when he brought her to the reunion that time. Something about her.”

Janelle remembered that summer well too, when she was twenty-six, seeing Kory with his wife for the first time, him seeing her with David . . . “I can't believe it,” she said. “How long ago?”

An usher came to get them, and Libby leaned over as they walked. “Earlier this year. Kevin told me at the reunion last summer.”

The usher guided them to the left side, second to last row, and they squeezed in as others made room. The Calvary choir, robed in blue, was finishing a slow worship hymn. Todd took to the wooden podium right after.

Libby looked at Janelle. “Todd's bringing the message himself?”

“I was about to ask you that.” Janelle shrugged. “I've never heard him speak, but he
is
an assistant pastor at his church.”

Todd was staring down at his dad's casket, now closed. He looked somber, but there was a real peace about him.

When he looked up, he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I remember when I was a boy, I'd come and hang out with Dad at church on Saturdays and sneak up to this very pulpit and play preacher.” He smiled. “But I never imagined standing up here for his funeral.” Todd paused, then gestured toward the front. “I couldn't be doing this without Pastor Brooks. Most of you know he was my best friend—some might say partner in crime—growing up.”

Soft laughter rippled through the congregation.

“Thank you, my friend, for all you've done for me this week, and for the help your congregation has offered. Dad couldn't stop telling me how pleased he was that you're at New Jerusalem now.”

Libby sat up in the pew and craned her neck. “I can't see,” she complained. “He's not talking about
Travis
Brooks, is he?”

“If you called your grandmother like you should, you'd know the Hope Springs news.”

“I know you're not talking.”

Janelle stifled a chuckle. “Okay, but I knew that. Pastor Richards retired, and Travis Brooks replaced him. He just moved back a few months ago.”

Libby didn't reply, and Janelle let her gaze drift past her cousin to see where Kory might be seated. But Todd had already started into his message, so she turned her focus to the front.

“And the first question people are asking me,” Todd was saying, “is ‘How are you doing?' A natural question, same question I ask others who've lost a loved one. What's surprising to me, though, is that my answer keeps changing.” He looked more engaged now as he looked out among them. “First I was practically numb. I'd only talked to my dad two days before and he was fine. Then he was gone. When I got to Hope Springs and walked into an empty house, the numbness turned to sadness. I realized I hadn't just lost a dad, but a friend, someone I talked to about life, ministry, sports.” He took a breath and let it out. “But a new feeling is coming over me, an urgency. I don't know . . .”

He looked as if he were searching for words, discovering for himself whatever was unfolding in his heart.

“There are times in our lives—times like this—when we get an up-close look at death, and it reminds us of our own mortality.” Todd stepped out from behind the podium. “The question is, what are we going to do with that close-up view? How will it affect us?” He paused. “Know how it's affecting me right now?”

“Come on, son,” an older member of New Jerusalem urged. “Let the Lord use you.”

“It's starting to energize me,” Todd said. “I
know
the work my dad did at this church and in this town. I
know
he impacted a lot of lives. He used the time God gave him faithfully. I want to take hold of that legacy and do the same. I want to live the rest of my life full-out, all for God, holding nothing back.”

“Amen,” said someone near them. A few people had taken to their feet, all New Jerusalem members.

Todd's eyes filled with passion. “Anybody else feel like you've been dragging through life, going through the motions? Come on! Why
not
live on fire for Jesus?”

Was that what she'd been doing? Janelle wondered. Dragging through life? David's death had had the opposite effect on her. Instead of turning toward God, she'd shied away. She'd kept going to church, mostly because of the kids, but her faith had taken a beating as she struggled to understand why God would take her husband in the prime of their lives.

She closed her eyes and continued listening to Todd even as prayers bubbled up on the inside.
Lord, I need You. I need You to fill the empty spaces David left
.

Todd shared the gospel at the end of his message, inviting people forward as the New Jerusalem choir sang. After Travis's closing prayer, the pallbearers lifted the casket and led the procession out. Libby's dad was one of them. Uncle Wood and Pastor Jim had spent many a day roaming those woods by their homes as rough-and-tumble boys.

Todd, his kids, and Pastor Jim's two older siblings filed slowly out, with the rest of the church following pew by pew. Weird . . . wasn't Becca supposed to be here by now?

Their row began moving, and Janelle suddenly spotted Kory in the back of the church. She felt awkward, unsure what to say, yet unable to avoid him. Calvary Church had one exit and he was standing right beside it.

Janelle struck up a conversation with family members as the group moved toward the double glass doors. They were all gathered around Stephanie, since so many hadn't seen her in a long time. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kevin head out with his family and Kory's daughter, while Kory remained. She wasn't sure if she was the reason until she got closer and he touched her arm.

“Janelle.”

She turned and looked into his eyes. “Kory. Hi.”

“I didn't know you'd be here,” he said.

His voice was the same; that was her first thought. As if it would change. Her second thought was that he still had that same aura that awakened all of her senses.

“It's been a long time,” he added.

“It has.”

Same penetrating gaze under thick eyebrows. Same deep brown complexion. She averted her gaze as she moved aside for others to pass, including Libby. Her cousin hugged Kory—and it struck Janelle that she herself hadn't.

Kory gestured to her. “Should we step outside, out of the way?”

She followed him onto the walkway, watching as people got into their cars, powered headlights, and lined up for the short drive to the cemetery.

“I heard about your husband,” he said. “I wanted to call you, but . . . I was praying for you.”

She looked at him. “I appreciate that, Kory. Thank you.” Should she say she'd heard about his wife?

Janelle waited as a few family members stopped to greet Kory and ask how he'd been. When they'd left, she asked, “So how well did you know Pastor Jim?”

“Not well. I've only been to Hope Springs a couple of times, as you know.” He cleared his throat. “But both times I had great conversations with him—Todd too. When Kevin said he was coming, I wanted to pay my respects.”

She nodded, glancing away again, aware that they were lingering. She saw Al's car drive by and join the lineup. “We'd better be going,” she said.

He hesitated. “Kevin said everyone's heading to your grandmother's house afterward?”

Janelle smiled slightly. “Hope so. If not, there's enough food to last a month. You know how they do.”

“We'll finish talking there, then?”

About what?
She wondered if he had some of the same questions she'd had all those years ago. Or maybe he simply wanted to catch up. Either way, she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

She rubbed her arms through her dress, feeling a chill. Was it the setting sun? “Sure.” She began backing away. “I'll be there.”

Emotions tumbled inside as she headed to Al's car—and saw a taxi pull up in front of the church. Becca emerged, looking harried. The cabdriver set her luggage on the curb and drove away.

The back door to the limo opened, and Todd got out. Janelle didn't want to stare, but the scene was playing out right in front of her. Her dad stepped out of his car and put Becca's suitcase in his trunk. The exchange between Becca and Todd seemed a little uncomfortable, short though it was. They got in the limo and it drove slowly off.

CHAPTER FIVE

B
ecca's face was red with embarrassment. How could she have arrived the very moment all the cars were lined up, ready to go to the cemetery? Everything had gone so smoothly with her travel plans—until her plane sat on the runway for more than thirty minutes, waiting for a gate. Now she'd missed the wake
and
the funeral service. And the look in Todd's eyes confirmed what she'd been hearing over the phone—he was hurt.

“And you know what else, Mommy?” Claire said.

Becca leaned in, her arm around her daughter. “What, honey?”

Claire had launched into a monologue the moment Becca got into the limo, which held Becca, Todd, and the kids, as well as Todd's aunt and uncle and their spouses. Claire couldn't fully appreciate her granddad's death, but she couldn't wait to catch Becca up on all the activity and people. In a way Becca was thankful for the distraction.

“I saw Miss Janelle and Tiffany,” Claire continued, “and Tiffany is four too, and she lives right next door—”

“She doesn't live next door, sweetheart.” Todd sat on her other side. “She's visiting, like we are.”

“—and we get to play after . . .” Claire's brows bunched up at her dad. “Where are we going again?”

“To the cemetery. That's where they'll bury your Grandpa Jim. But we know where he really is, right?”

“With Jesus!” Claire stuck her hands straight up in the air.

Two-year-old Ethan's hands shot up too. “De-sus!”

Todd and Becca shared a slight smile, their first since she arrived. When he'd gotten out of the limo he'd said, “Glad you made it,” but she wondered if he was really acknowledging that she'd barely made it at all. As a rule he was easygoing, but she couldn't presume on that. Becca caught herself—maybe she already had.

“You've got some precious kids, Todd.” His aunt had been playing patty-cake with Ethan. “Wish we could see them more often.”

“Me too,” Todd said. “Seems like we live the farthest from everybody.”

The limo turned into the cemetery and wound through the grounds. Behind them was another limo with more of Todd's extended family, and a long trail of cars. When they pulled up near the burial site and parked, the family filed out and walked toward three short rows of chairs that faced the coffin. Becca sat with Ethan in her lap and Claire beside her, along with Grandpa Jim's siblings. Todd remained standing, talking with people as they made their way over.

Becca watched as Wood and Denise Sanders walked with Grandma Geri across the grass. Todd directed them to the first row of chairs, and Wood paused, gazing at the casket.

“I knew Jim all my life,” Wood said. “Loved him like a brother. What you did in that service, making it a charge to live for Jesus—” He gave a slow nod. “You captured Jim's spirit perfectly. That was some message, Todd.”