Hope Springs (7 page)

“I got it,” Libby said. “Glad to serve.” She flashed a smile.

Janelle narrowed her eyes at her, then turned to Kory. “Okay, let me get my jacket.”

He opened the screen door for her, and they stepped out into the night. Activity swirled between both houses under well-lit grounds—people eating outdoors in the back, kids running to and fro. Janelle stopped and looked toward the swing set that was about as old as she was. Sara Ann was doing triple duty, giving a light shove to Tiffany, Claire, and Dee, Kory's daughter, all of whom were giggling wildly.

“Mom, Mom, look at us!”

“Wow, Tiffy!” she said. “You all are sailing straight for the moon!”

“Higher, Miss Sara Ann, higher!”

Sara Ann was laughing. “I don't want you to fall out!”

“We're not leaving yet, are we, Dad?” Dee said.

Kory shook his head. “Not yet, sweetheart. You've got a few minutes.”

“Aw, Dad, that's all?” Dee yelled, kicking higher.

Kory smiled. “Enjoy it!”

Janelle and Kory started a slow walk up the road in silence, away from the bright lights into the darkened blue sky. She held her arms against the cool temperature as the two of them fell into step.

“I'm glad Dee's having a nice time,” she said finally.

“Me too. She was eating beside me, and your daughter asked if she'd like to sit with the girls.” Kory looked at her. “Tiffany's a special girl.”

“Thank you.” Janelle stared at the quiet road ahead of them. “Libby said your wife left, Kory. What happened?”

Kory was staring ahead as well. “We were associates in litigation at a large law firm in Chicago. That's how we met. A bunch of us went up for partner the same year, but the economy had tanked, and we knew they wouldn't promote everybody. But I had worked hard, done well, even brought in some clients. Everyone assumed I'd make it for sure. Shelley had done well, but she hadn't yet developed any business for the firm.” He took a breath. “She was promoted. I wasn't.”

They took a few steps in silence before Kory continued.

“Then the rumors started about her seeing a senior partner in litigation, who was also married. She denied it . . . until she announced last New Year's Eve that she was leaving to move in with him.”

“Wow. Just like that? What about Dee?”

“Shelley said it made more sense for Dee to stay with me. I was the one who basically took care of her.” He sighed. “That was the hardest part—convincing Dee her mother loved her even though she left.”

Janelle looked at him. “That's so sad, Kory. What did you say when she dropped all this on you?”

“I didn't know what to say at first. I was hurt and angry, couldn't stand the sight of her. I felt like I never really knew her.” He kept walking, looking into the night. “I was ready to cut my losses and be done. But in the midst of all that I focused on God again.” He glanced at her. “Nothing like heartbreak to lead you back to God. I'd neglected Him all the years I'd been working toward partner. Anyway, it was hard because I knew He was telling me to forgive her and try and reconcile. And that's what I did. Even asked if she'd move with me to North Carolina so we could start over.” He retreated into his thoughts a moment. “She said there was nothing we could do. The marriage was over.”

Janelle took a moment to think through what he'd said. “So what's the status now?”

“She wasted no time getting an attorney to draft a separation agreement. On New Year's Eve it'll be a year. After that she can file for divorce.”

“Will you contest it?”

“No. I've tried to talk to her every step of the way—seemed like God wouldn't leave me alone unless I did.” His sigh let her know how hard that was. “Nothing like your wife rejecting you over and over to keep you humble.”

“I'm sorry, Kory. I know this was nowhere near what you envisioned for your marriage.”

He stopped and turned to her with a curious look. “Are you saying that because you remember?”

Her brow creased, but it took only a minute for his question to register. “That's not why I said it, but I do remember. We were standing in about this same spot. You started that silly discussion of what your marriage would be like.”

He had a near-smile. “Oh, it was silly?”

She continued walking. “That's the best word for it. Let's see . . . you and your wife would have breakfast in bed every morning—I guess it would just magically appear.”

“We'd train the kids to bring it to us.”

“Oh. Okay. All arguments would be decided by a flip of a coin in order to end quickly. And because you're particular about having a clean house, you would assume all cleaning chores in exchange for a limitless basketball and football watching license.”

“College and professional.”

“Well, of course.”

“I said what my
wife
would be like too . . . Too bad I didn't stick to it.” He muttered the last part.

“I remember. Beautiful and on fire for Jesus.”

“But I was flirting.”

Janelle frowned. “Flirting?”

“Don't get me wrong. I meant it . . . much as I could've meant anything at eighteen. But I said it because
you
were beautiful and on fire for Jesus.”

She didn't know how to respond, but her stomach did, with a tiny flip.

Kory paused in front of her, hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn't think you remembered that night.”

“How could I forget, Kory?”

“I thought you had. Or at least it didn't mean much to you, since you stopped returning my calls.”

“
I
stopped returning calls? You were the one who stopped calling. I left messages with your roommate and never heard from you.”

“I never got any messages.”

Janelle stared at him in disbelief. “I replayed that weekend in my mind so many times. The walks, the conversation. It was like our
souls
connected. Then we went off to college, and when I didn't hear from you after the first month, I almost thought I'd imagined it.”

Kory looked into her eyes. “You didn't imagine it. I think we were standing in
this
exact spot when we kissed good-bye. I'd never felt what I felt with you that weekend.”

Janelle's breath caught. The wind grazed her face, and their stare lingered long enough for her to remember vividly every second of that kiss. She turned and started back. “It was a lifetime ago. We were kids.”

“True.” They kept a slow pace. “But even now, it's nice to know it meant something to you too.”

“I didn't think I'd ever see you again. Then you showed up years later with Shelley.” Janelle tried to hold her tongue, but she had to say this much. “That was interesting. She didn't seem excited to be here.”

“No. She didn't want to come. Kevin invited us because Leslie was doing her ballet routine in the family talent show. We'd never seen her perform, and she kept asking if we'd be there. I couldn't say no.” He watched a stray cat that had appeared from nowhere and fallen in step with them. “But we only stayed Saturday night because Shelley wanted to get back.”

“It was just as well.” Janelle didn't mind admitting it now. “It was weird seeing you. I couldn't help it; my heart reacted, and I basically spent the evening avoiding you.”

“Like today.” Kory glanced sideways at her. “Does that mean your heart reacted when you saw me today?”

If he only knew what was happening inside this very second. When she didn't respond, he pulled her to a stop.

“Janelle?”

She allowed a brief glance. “Maybe. A little.” She started walking again. “But it doesn't mean anything. I'm still processing life without David. You're processing life without Shelley. We don't need to go back sixteen years and process that too.” She sealed it with the refrain she'd been playing in her head. “Anyway, I'll be gone after Christmas. So it's kind of like that first summer all over again.”

“It's nothing like that first summer, Janelle. You said it yourself. We were kids. And technology was primitive compared to now. We can call, text, Skype. We can be friends.” The darkness ebbed as they neared the houses. He paused in the shadows. “I don't know about you, but I could use a friend.”

She dared to look into his eyes, knowing that on this beautiful late December night with this handsome man—a man her heart knew well—she could easily be drawn in.

“I'll be honest with you,” she said. “I'd love for us to be able to build a friendship. But it can't be anything more. Personally, I'm not ready. And God could do a miracle in Shelley's heart and bring you two back together”—she didn't miss the look on his face—“well, He
could
.” She looked into his eyes. “But, yeah. I could use a friend too.”

He extended his arms, and Janelle moved inside them.

“Merry Christmas, friend,” he said.

She closed her eyes, remembering his embrace. “Merry Christmas, friend.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
Thursday, December 24

B
ecca zipped up her suitcase, carried it downstairs, and set it next to the kids' smaller luggage by the front door. She walked past the living room, then backed up. “Claire,” she called, “why are all these toys in here? I thought I told you to pack them up.”

Claire skipped from the kitchen in a long-sleeved shirt, loose leggings, and bare feet. “I don't have to pack those up, Mommy.” She licked her fingers. “We play with them in the car.”

Becca mussed her daughter's straight brown hair. “Okay, sweet pea. We'll load everything up when Daddy gets back with the car.” She led the way back to the kitchen. “Let's wipe the jelly off your cheek. Good job helping your brother while I finished packing.”

“But he won't eat the banana.” Claire shrugged as if she'd tired of trying. “All he wants is Frosted Flakes.”

“You little stinker.” Becca kissed Ethan on the head where he sat at the table. “You'd better eat your fruit. It's good for you.”

“No 'nana!” Ethan kicked his legs straight out, happy in defiance, then grabbed another handful of cereal and stuffed it into his mouth.

Becca picked up her laptop from the table and tucked it inside her messenger bag. She'd gotten a little work done on her talk for the conference, based on the direction she'd gotten in the meeting yesterday. But she also wanted to check out the three blog design options that were supposed to be uploaded for her this morning—and she couldn't even
access
them. How had her father-in-law lived like this? Seemed almost primitive to be without Wi-Fi or even a dial-up connection. She felt so detached. Oh, to get out of this little town and feel technologically alive again.

“Mom!” Claire called.

“Oh, Ethan . . .”

He'd reached for his cup and knocked it over, starting a milky stream on course for Jim's Bible, notepad, and reading glasses, still sitting on the kitchen table where he'd left them the morning he died. Todd hadn't had the heart to move them. Becca lifted them quickly out of the way, along with a stack of opened and unopened mail.

“Hand me some paper towels, sweetie . . . thanks.” She wiped the mess, picturing Jim here at the table, going through his normal morning routine, unaware it was for the last time.

“Okay, buddy, let's clean you up.” Becca wiped Ethan's hands and face, then turned to Claire, who swigged the last of her juice. “Soon as Daddy gets back, we'll be ready to go. Make sure you're not forgetting anything.”

Claire hopped up. “I'll go check.”

Ethan got down too. “I check.”

“Copycat.”

“Be patient with him, Claire.” Becca started washing the few breakfast dishes they'd used. “He looks up to you. That's part of being a big sister.”

Becca glanced at the clock. She'd thought Todd would be back by now. She rinsed her coffee mug and set it in the dish rack, puzzled still that he would even indulge the discussion. She'd told him this morning he shouldn't go. The elders needed to move on, talk to people for whom the position was realistic.

There was no way it made sense for them. Their lives were planted in St. Louis, and her mother was there as well. Her help in taking care of the kids when Becca traveled was invaluable—help they'd need all the more when Worth & Purpose started up. And Todd wasn't even a pulpit preacher. The whole idea of moving to Hope Springs seemed absurd.

A knock sounded at the front door, and Ethan and Claire ran to it. “It's Tiffany!” Claire had her face pasted to the window pane.

“You can open it,” Becca said, walking up. “Good morning, Tiffany.”

“Hi, Miss Becca. Can Claire come out and play?”

Janelle was with her. “I told her Claire was leaving this morning and probably didn't have time, but she insisted on seeing for herself.” She smiled at the girls. “They had a lot of fun together yesterday.”