The Color of Hope - By Kim Tate Page 0,4
hammering as she got out and walked toward him.
“You look nice,” he said.
She glanced down at the shorts and shirt she’d thrown on. “I look bummy. This is reunion-prep-plus-help-Stephanie-move-in attire.”
“You couldn’t look bummy if you tried.”
He gave her a hug, and quick as it was, it brought back memories.
“You got a minute to come in?” he said.
“Sure.” She smiled. “Janelle texted that she’s making breakfast, but I’m sure she’ll save me some.”
“And you’re smiling because you know I’m about to call Janelle and tell her to save me some. The most breakfast variety we’ve got here is Wheat Chex and Wheaties.”
Libby followed him to the door. “I’m trying to remember the last time I was in your family’s house. Had to be high school.” Whenever she saw him, it was at Grandma Geri’s.
“Those were the days,” Travis said. “So many summer memories.” He opened the door. “You and Janelle were a bad influence on Todd and me.”
Libby needed only to give him a look. “Yeah, that’s why Grandma Geri said you two were so bad she couldn’t believe you both turned out to be pastors.” She stopped short when she walked inside. “You have got to be kidding me.” She looked at Travis. “You weren’t too embarrassed to invite me in? Look at this place.”
“What?”
Marcus emerged from the kitchen, a glass of orange juice in hand. “Hey, cuz.” He surveyed the scene himself. “Yeah. What?”
She checked out the shirt on the arm of the sofa, the empty potato chip bag and glass on the floor, the carryout carton on the coffee table that had to have been from last night at least. “Y’all are slobs. I don’t even want to see the kitchen. Definitely not using the bathroom.”
“Aw, that’s cold,” Travis said. “I thought we were doing a good job keeping it straight.”
Libby turned to Marcus. “I know Aunt Gladys taught you better than this. I’ve never seen a more spotless house than hers.”
Marcus’s face turned sheepish. “Actually I might’ve been spoiled, being the baby and the only boy. Between Mom and four older sisters, I escaped cleaning detail.”
Libby shook her head, turning back to Travis. “And what’s your excuse?”
He spread his hands. “I’m still trying to figure out what the problem is. It might not look exactly like it did when Mom was here, but it’s not that bad.” He donned a mischievous smile. “But your grandmother did say I needed a wife.”
“When you find one,” Marcus said, “ask her if she has a sister. I’m in my late twenties and wondering where all the good women are.”
“Give me a break, little cousin,” Libby said. “You’ve had girls after you from the time you were young, and Aunt Gladys had to tell them to quit calling her house late at night. You’re just too picky.”
“Oh really?” Marcus gave her a look. “Pot calling the kettle black?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m picky.” She thought a second. “Okay, maybe I am. But key difference—I’m not looking to get married.”
“Does Omar know that?” Marcus added suddenly, “Where is Omar, anyway? You’ve been leaving him in Raleigh lately. Is he coming to the reunion?”
“Omar’s not coming, no.”
She’d brought Omar to a couple of family gatherings last spring, mostly to act as a buffer against her lingering feelings for Travis. But Omar started taking things too seriously. Plus—and she was only lately admitting this to herself—she no longer wanted that buffer.
Marcus swallowed the last of his juice and put the glass on the coffee table, then caught Libby’s eye and took it to the kitchen. “Better get to work,” he said. “Can’t believe the kids’ll be starting school in a week and a half.”
“How does it feel, working at our parents’ alma mater?” Libby called after him.
“In a word, weird.” Marcus rejoined them, apparently pondering it. “If it weren’t for this man right here, urging me to pray about applying—then urging me to take it—I would’ve stayed in Greensboro.” He sighed. “Every school district has its politics, but small-town politics? And we’re smack in the middle of this joint service thing?” He shook his head. “It’s crazy.”
“I know, man,” Travis said. “I thought things would settle down over the summer, but it’s only gotten worse.”
Marcus opened the screen door. “I’ll be back early afternoon to help Stephanie and Lindell move in.”
“See you then,” Libby said, heading to the door herself. She turned to Travis as Marcus left. “You coming too?”
“I’ll be there. I can come earlier if you need me. Don’t you need help setting