Janelle raised her camera and caught the momentous embrace, feeling like a proud sister. Travis had just walked into Calvary Church’s basement for the reception. When he and Todd saw one another, both official-looking in their suits, they took in the moment—Hope Springs’ pastors were together in public for the first time.
“Aw, I love it.” Janelle snapped a couple more, taking in the scene with Kory. He’d gone to New Jerusalem’s service and come over when it ended. “You can tell they’re emotional,” she said.
“Travis mentioned in the service that this felt like a big day for him also,” Kory said. “Said he was excited about what God was doing on this street.”
Several other cameras flashed around the room, including that of Virgil Tenley, the town’s newspaper photographer. He stopped by the Sanders family reunion every year to take a group photo of the more than two hundred of them, calling their get-togethers a piece of Hope Springs history.
Andy Walters, a longtime reporter for the paper, accompanied Virgil. With the crowd gathered around the pastors, he called out, “What’s it feel like for childhood friends to return to Hope Springs as pastors?”
The guys smiled at one another. “Unbelievable,” Todd said, nodding. “As you probably recall, Andy, we’re the ones who made the news for that little fire hydrant prank. Proves God has a sense of humor, I guess.”
Janelle chuckled with the rest, leaning over to Kory. “Grandma said they got in big trouble for that. I wish she could be here to see this.”
She thought it was sweet that Stephanie wanted to stay home with Grandma Geri. She didn’t have to. Aunt Gladys was there. And Stephanie had wanted to hear Todd’s first sermon, especially after the way his funeral sermon had spoken to her. But when she saw that Grandma Geri wasn’t well enough to go to church, she said she felt like keeping her company.
“I was praying she’d feel better today,” Kory said.
“Dr. Peters said we should know this week how she’s faring with the chemo.”
Andy raised a finger, quieting the crowd. “It’s interesting that you’re both young, and both lived for several years in urban areas—St. Louis and Dallas. What do you think that will mean for this town? Do you think those experiences will affect the way you pastor here?”
Todd and Travis looked at one another to see who would take a stab at it.
“I think,” Travis began, “that God uses who we are and where we’ve been. He’s the One who guided us into those experiences when we left here, and He’s the One who brought us back. So I’m looking forward myself to seeing what it’ll mean.” He put an arm around Todd. “I couldn’t be more pumped to have this guy in town with me.”
“One more question,” Andy said, pausing to jot something down. “Todd, your first sermon at Calvary was about unity in the body. You didn’t mention New Jerusalem, but I’m just wondering . . . would you say unity has been lacking between the two churches?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that at all, Andy. My dad and Pastor Richards had a great relationship. But there’s always room for growth. Unity was on Jesus’s mind before He went to the cross when He prayed that His followers would be one. And I think we need to be ever mindful of it as well.”
“Amen.” Travis stuck out his hand and Todd gripped it—another Kodak moment.
As the crowd returned to the food and punch lines, Janelle walked up to Todd and Travis. “I want to get a picture with you two, like old times.”
“When we were packing,” Todd said, “I actually found a picture we took the summer before seventh grade. You should’ve seen what we were wearing.”
“Scan it and put it on Facebook, and make sure you tag Janelle,” Travis said.
Her eyes widened. “You’d better not!”
Kory took her camera. “I’ll take it.”
Janelle stood between them and they smiled big, arms around one another’s waists.
“Someone’s missing from this picture,” Travis said.
“Libby.”
“I invited her to service.”
“I know.”
Travis reached for the camera in Kory’s hand. “I’ll take a shot of you and Janelle. I know she wants one.”
Janelle elbowed him in the side, though it was blunted by his suit jacket.
“You would assault your pastor in broad daylight? For telling the truth?”
Kory looked to Janelle. “It’s up to you.”
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
It was just a picture, but Janelle’s insides twirled a little when Kory put his arm around her shoulder. She looped an arm around his waist just as she’d done with Todd and Travis, but the feeling was different. She was hyper aware of everything about him, even the muscles her arm could feel on his back.
“One . . . two . . . three.” Travis clicked, then checked it. “You blinked, Janelle.” He turned the camera and showed her. “Let’s do another one.”
Janelle and Kory moved their heads closer.
“Say cheese,” Travis said.
“Cheeeese.”
Travis checked again. “Perfect. Look at that.”
Janelle dropped her arm from Kory’s waist and took her camera. “Nice.”
Kory looked over her shoulder. “Really nice.”
“Mom!”
“Dad!”
“Can we go to Claire’s?”
The voices hit them at the same time, and Janelle and Kory laughed. “Did you two practice that?” Janelle said.
Becca walked up with a struggling Ethan in her arms. “This little guy needs a nap badly, so I’m taking him home. I told the girls they could come if they wanted. Oh, and Daniel’s ready to go too. He said Stephanie can let him in at the house.”
“Sounds good,” Janelle said.
“Fine with me,” Kory said. “Okay if I eat something before I come get her?”
“Take your time,” Becca said. “Company for Claire and naptime for Ethan means I can get some things done myself.” She marched the troops onward, stopping momentarily to talk to Todd.
“Hungry?” Kory asked.
“Very.” Janelle glanced toward the buffet. “The kids had the right idea getting their food at the beginning, though. Look at the line now.”
“I was actually wondering if you’d like to go to the diner. I’ve never been.”
Kory drove them the short distance. The place was bustling, but they didn’t have to wait, probably because many had gone to the reception at Calvary.
Lila greeted them and walked them to a booth, past Sara Ann, who waved with one hand as she poured hot coffee with the other. She stopped by their table next with mugs filled with fresh brew. “Be right back for your order,” she said.
They took off their coats and looked over the menus.
“Are you okay?” Janelle said. “You don’t seem totally yourself.”
“I don’t?” Kory sipped black coffee, put it back down. He sighed. “I guess I’m thinking about the notice I got when I returned home last night. Court hearing is Monday, February 8.” He glanced vaguely at the menu. “I’m resigned to it. Just don’t know how I’ll explain the finality of it to Dee. And I don’t know what’ll happen when Shelley comes to North Carolina for the hearing . . . if she’ll even want to see Dee.”
“Of course she will.” Janelle tasted her coffee to see if she’d added enough cream and sugar.
“Trust me, there’s no guarantee.” He took a long sip. “Nothing she does surprises me anymore.”
“Hey.” Sara Ann looked harried. “How was Todd’s sermon?”
“Awesome,” Janelle said. “I wish you could’ve heard him.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it.” She put her pencil to the pad. “But right now it’s Sunday-morning busy, so I’d better take your order.”
Sara Ann was looking at her, so she went first. “Hotcakes and sausage, please. And orange juice.”
“I’ll have the same,” said Kory, “with two eggs over easy and a side of grits.”
Janelle raised her brow. “The hotcakes are pretty big.”
“That’s what I was hoping.”
“Gotta love a healthy appetite.” Sara Ann scooped up the menus. “I’ve got a fresh pot brewing. Be back shortly.”
Janelle took a leisurely sip, gazing around the diner, debating whether she wanted to know. “So what was it about Shelley that made you want to marry her?”
Kory looked at her, then away, as if debating whether he wanted to answer. He wrapped his hands around his mug and stared into it. “She and I entered the firm the same year, two out of twelve new associates in litigation—and two of only six black associates out of a hundred in litigation.”
“How large is the firm?”
“About five hundred.”
Sara Ann topped off their cups. Kory blew off the steam and took a sip.
“You know how it is,” he said. “As the only black first-years, she and I gravitated toward one another for advice, information, and whatnot. We’d go to lunch.” He shrugged. “The nature of our job meant we worked into the evenings, weekends, so we were together all the time. It was easy to fall into a relationship.”
“So the environment made it easy. But what was it about her?”
He took a moment. “She was smart, sure of herself. She knew exactly what to say and how to get her way. I was caught up in the hype back then. I’d been heavily recruited by top firms, saw myself making partner, becoming a rainmaker, serving on the firmwide management committee . . . So her style was appealing to me. Also didn’t hurt that she was attractive.”
Janelle had been tempted to Google her but had decided against it. “So you got married, two up-and-coming power players . . . and what happened?”
“We were fine the first year and a half or so, until I started talking about having a baby. Whenever I brought it up, we’d argue. I assumed Shelley wanted kids like I did, but she didn’t. Said they would stifle her career goals. We finally compromised. She said she’d have one, and I said I’d give up my vision of three or four. I thought we were cool. Then Dee was born and—”
Sara Ann appeared and dished out their meals with a flourish. “And two orders of sausage,” she said to herself, checking the ticket to be sure she’d gotten everything. Satisfied, she looked up with a smile. “Call me if it’s anything less than yummy.”
Janelle smiled back. “It certainly looks it.”
“Thanks, Sara Ann,” Kory said. He prayed over their food and continued. “So, yeah, Dee . . . she changed everything.”
“How so?” Janelle poured hot syrup on her hotcakes, then passed it to him.
Kory poured the syrup, then peppered his eggs and grits. “I didn’t realize how much I could love a little baby. My world no longer revolved around the firm. I didn’t want to work every night and every weekend. I wanted to see the sparkle in Dee’s eyes when she looked at her daddy. I wanted to hear the belly laugh when I tickled her.”
“And that was a problem?”
“I don’t think it was a problem with my supervisors in litigation,” he said. “At least at first. When I was working, I was focused and gave my all. Clients complimented my work and gave me new matters to handle. I was doing well.” He forked up some pancakes. “But I was no longer concerned with internal politics. I wasn’t going to play the game of staying till nine at night just to look committed. I stopped going to cocktail parties and all the other schmooze events with senior partners.”
“But Shelley was doing all that?”
He nodded. “And then some. Somewhere in there she started her affair with the head of litigation.”
They sank into a silence, eating, thinking. A sadness came over Janelle as she thought of the hopes and dreams people carried into marriage. Were they ever realized?
Kory wiped his mouth, stared at Janelle a moment. “So what was it about David that made you want to marry him?”
She smiled at the question. “He was silly. He could find humor and enjoyment in almost anything, and I loved that about him. I could never stay down for long when he was around.”
“How did you meet?”
“A girlfriend at church started dating someone, and she kept telling me he had this friend . . .” Janelle gave him a look as she drank some juice. “You know how that is. I said I wasn’t interested, wasn’t doing a blind date. So she had a cookout and made sure we were both there.”
Kory smiled. “And it was love at first sight?”
“More like we hit it off as friends, and the more I got to know him, the more I saw he was the real deal—great to be around, sincere about his faith, hardworking. It was easy to love him.”
Kory was almost done with his food. “What’s your favorite memory of you, David, and the kids?”
“Hmm, we have a lot of good memories actually.” She pushed her plate aside. “Father’s Day four years ago has to be near the top of the list. I told David to stay in bed because I’d be making breakfast and bringing it to him. But soon as I went to the kitchen, Tiffany started crying, so I got her from her crib and fed her. Soon as I’m done feeding her, Daniel says he doesn’t feel well and wants me to sit with him and read him a story.” She laughed. “By the time I’m done with all that, David had breakfast made and on a tray for me.”
“Aw, that’s awesome. Definitely a great guy.” He paused, his eyes warm. “I can’t imagine having a marriage like that and then losing my spouse. How have you coped? That is, if you don’t mind talking about it.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “It was really hard at first. The first Christmas after David died, I didn’t get out of bed until the afternoon. My parents were there, but I didn’t want to talk. Phone kept ringing—Libby, Grandma Geri, Aunt Gladys—but I wouldn’t talk to them either. I didn’t feel like anyone could understand.”
“Did you see a counselor?”
“For a while, yes. He said if I couldn’t express how I felt to friends and family, I should write it in a journal. That helped some.”
“You still journal?”
“Not as much.” Time with her journal had really decreased since she’d moved to Hope Springs. She looked at him. “They say divorce can bring almost as much grief as death.”
Kory pondered it. “I can see that. Except the memories you’re left with are good ones.”
“You and Shelley had good memories too.”
He let that one hang, staring at the activity in the diner.
“I started praying for her,” Janelle said.
Kory looked at her. “Why?”
“She can’t be happy living like that, not deep down. She’s trying to fill a void that only Jesus can fill.”
Kory stared away again.
And Janelle stared at him. Life was strange. She’d had a treasure in David that was taken away. Shelley had a treasure in Kory and let it go. Could Shelley not see the treasure that Kory was?
Seemed awfully plain to Janelle.