The Color of Hope - By Kim Tate Page 0,16
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.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Charley 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