The Color of Hope - By Kim Tate Page 0,17
other comment—while looking back, walking—referenced an administrative matter.
Another car pulled up beside her, and a family got out. Charley looked toward the house. The thought of seeing Marcus—especially a more personal side of him—was intriguing. But why encourage a silly infatuation? Either she’d be leaving town, so it wouldn’t matter, or she’d be staying and it wouldn’t matter, given the professional boundaries between them.
Or she wasn’t his type, so none of it mattered.
Ugh. Charley, really? She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She was being silly, all right, letting her mind dwell on this. She finally cut the engine and hopped out. Enjoy her time with Stephanie and Janelle—that’s what she would do. And as she followed the sounds of music, laughter, and kids, she got excited about just that.
She entered the backyard, one that stretched a long ways left to right, and saw a lively atmosphere and people everywhere—at picnic tables, mingling, some dancing.
“Charley! Hey!” Janelle was waving from a welcome table.
Charley waved back as she walked over. “This is amazing.” She hugged her. “I’ve never been to a family gathering like this.”
Janelle smiled. “I’m told it’s unique, but it’s all I’ve known my entire life.” She turned to the guy beside her. “Kory, this is Charley, one of my Soul Sisters. Charley, this is Kory . . .” She searched for words, then turned her puzzled look up at him. “How do I describe you? ‘Boyfriend’ sounds funny to me, at our age.”
Kory chuckled. “First, nice to meet you, Charley.” He shook her hand. “The problem is Janelle can’t bring herself to say I’m the guy who met her at one of these reunions at eighteen, fell in love with her, and then was ignored and forgotten when we went off to college. But a decade and a half later, here we are. She finally agreed to date me.”
“Are you serious?” Charley said. “That’s how you met?”
“And that’s about the only part of his story that’s accurate,” Janelle said.
Kory draped an arm around her. “So we’re not dating?”
“Okay, I guess that part is true too.”
“You guess it’s true?”
Charley folded her arms, smiling at them. “You two are too cute.”
Janelle put her arm around his waist, eyeing Charley. “I’ll fill you in on the real details of how Kory ignored me after I went off to—”
“Coach Willoughby?”
Charley turned, her stomach doing a little flip. Marcus looked handsome even in casual shorts and an athletic tee.
“Hey, didn’t know you’d be here,” he said.
Handshake. Ever the professional.
“Hey, Mr. Maxwell.” Charley tucked her hair behind an ear. “I didn’t either, till last night. Janelle and Stephanie invited me.”
Janelle folded her arms. “I get ‘Coach’ and ‘Mr.’ in the school building,” she said. “But really? Y’all can’t be Marcus and Charley on a Friday night?”
Marcus gave his cousin a sheepish smile. “A little formal?”
“You think?”
Another family walked into the backyard and headed for the welcome table.
“Marcus,” Janelle said, “could you show Charley to the food and drinks and all that good stuff? Not sure where Steph is. I should only be a minute, until somebody takes our place.”
Charley did a quick glance at the nearby crowd to see if she could spot Stephanie herself. Time with Marcus was exactly what she didn’t need.
“Sure,” he was saying, already leading the way. “So . . . Charley . . . it’ll take a minute to get used to that.” He smiled. “Didn’t recognize you at first with the whole no-ponytail-or-sneakers look.”
She glanced down at her skirt and sandals. “Well, I do clean up once in a while.”
“Ha. Guess in my case, I went backward.” He glanced at her. “How long have you known my cousins?”
“Not long. Met Janelle in the spring at Soul Sisters; just met Stephanie yesterday.” She added, “But I’m looking forward to getting to know them better.”
He nodded. “Which means you’d have to be near them, here in Hope Springs, which, in order for that to work, means you’d have to take the head coach position.”
“Hmm . . . that wasn’t Mr. Maxwell right there, was it? On a Friday night?”
“Uh, no. Not at all.” He cleared his throat. “Just . . . okay, yeah, that was Mr. Maxwell.” He laughed. “Promise. Marcus only, rest of the night.” He paused. “But wait, I’m your brother in Christ too, right? I thought we had a vibe going yesterday, trying to figure out what God was doing in your life.”
“Good save,” she said. “We’ll file that comment under brotherly advice.”
They wove through pockets of