CHAPTER FORTY
Thursday, February 11

Janelle and Kory didn’t get their first date Monday night. She knew what time the court hearing had been scheduled for—ten thirty a.m.—and she’d watched the hospital clock attentively. Kory was there, she just knew it. He would call or text her afterward to let her know he’d prayed and had a peace still about going forward. He and Shelley were officially over.

Eleven o’clock came, then eleven thirty, then three o’clock as they drove out of the hospital parking lot. By nightfall, she’d swung to the exact opposite—he and Shelley were back together. And as she awoke Thursday, that’s where she remained.

Janelle lingered in bed. She had an hour before she needed to awaken Daniel for school. Grandma Geri had finished her third round of chemo and had an appointment with her oncologist late morning. Janelle hadn’t heard her stirring yet. She had an urge to write in her journal.

From under the covers, she turned on her bedside lamp, hoping she wouldn’t wake Stephanie in the other bed. She reached for the journal on the nightstand, opened it, and took the pen from inside. She turned to the last page on which she’d written, skipped a line, and wrote the date—February 11—and waited for words to spill from her heart.

Dear God,

It seems so strange to write to You about another man. For the last two years these pages have filled with the ups and downs of life without David . . . mostly the downs, as You know. But this morning, Lord, I really need to talk to someone about Kory. And You’re the only One who can understand because You understand me better than anyone.

You know how deeply I feel, how much I like to reflect. You know how I love to dream even as I project the practical, commonsense side of myself. When Libby and Steph and Becca asked how I was doing this week, I told the truth. By Your grace I felt strengthened to move on again. But that wasn’t the whole truth. How could I tell them that from that short period of life with Kory, I had something to mourn?

Janelle wiped her tears with the sleeve of her pajama top. She didn’t care how much she cried. She wanted to cry. If she let all her tears out now, maybe they’d be done.

But, Lord, You know . . . I dreamed of our lives becoming one. I dreamed of our families becoming one. I saw in Kory a father for Daniel, and in Daniel a son for Kory. I dreamed of being a second mother to Dee, and oh how I dreamed of Dee and Tiffany as sisters. I could see that, Lord, the two of them growing up together, in the same classes, sharing clothes and shoes, talking into the night. I saw Kory as the strong man Tiffany will need in her life, a man who will love her unconditionally so that she’ll have no need to seek pseudo love from an immature boy.

And, Lord, I dreamed of Kory as my husband. I knew he still belonged to someone else, and You know how hard I tried not to think it. I would’ve never told him that. But in those unguarded moments of my soul, I dreamed of knowing his every mood, what he’s like on lazy days around the house, how much he whines when he’s sick. I dreamed of being his wife, of loving him with abandon and revealing myself without reservation.

And now, Lord, once again I must mourn—this time the loss of a dream. The loss of what almost was. It would seem almost silly if my heart weren’t aching so.

She picked a tissue from the box and dabbed her face and another to blow her nose.

But, Lord, as much as it hurts, I pray Your best for Kory and Shelley. I pray that You heal their marriage. Renew their hopes and dreams and establish them. Be the bridge that leads them back to a strong connection of the heart. And sweet little Dee . . . thank You for returning her mother to her. I pray that you bond them as mother and daughter.

Her chest heaved from the quiet sobs that remained.

And finally, Lord, help me to cling to You, not David or Kory or even my grief. I want to cling to You and trust You. Help me to believe that You are working all things together for good in my life despite how it looks or feels.

Yours
Janelle

She stared at the page, then tucked the pen back into the journal and closed it. All the emotion had left her tired. She could sleep another two hours at least, but she forced herself up and out of bed. In the kitchen she started a pot of coffee. As she made her way to the bathroom, she heard a loud thump—and the sound of someone crying out.

Her heart was thumping itself as she rushed to the bedroom and stooped beside her grandmother.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Grandma Geri said. “I tried to get out of bed and I just fell. I can’t move.”

Janelle jumped up. “I’m getting my phone to call 911. Be right back.”

She ran and got her phone as Stephanie came out of the room.

“What’s going on?” she said.

“Grandma can’t move. I’m dialing 911.”

Janelle ran back to her grandmother’s side, Stephanie at her heels, telling the operator the emergency and her grandmother’s overall condition.

“The ambulance will be here shortly, Grandma.”

“I’ll go call Dr. Reynolds and Aunt Gladys,” Stephanie said.

Janelle sat beside her grandmother on the floor, holding her, feeling helpless, trying to be strong. She hoped nothing was broken. Grandma Geri continued to moan. “Dear Lord,” Janelle prayed aloud, “please help my grandmother. Whatever’s going on, please get her the help she needs quickly and heal her.”

Daniel and Tiffany appeared at the bedroom door, looking frightened.

“What’s wrong with Grandma?” Daniel said.

“I don’t know yet, sweetheart. Say a prayer.”

Janelle could hear the ambulance, and then Stephanie opening the door.

Todd entered with Stephanie and the paramedics, who brought a stretcher into the bedroom. Janelle moved out of their way and stood near the door.

“What happened?” Todd asked.

“She said she fell getting out of bed. She can’t move.” She paused, watching the paramedics tend to her. “I’m scared, Todd.”

Todd closed his eyes, and Janelle knew he was praying.

“Why don’t you let me take the kids to my house,” he said. “That way you and Stephanie can both go to the hospital. I can get Daniel to school.”

He ushered the kids to their room to get what they needed. Janelle and Stephanie watched the paramedics lift Grandma Geri carefully onto the stretcher and move her out. They got into Janelle’s car and followed the ambulance, answering a call seconds later from Travis, who’d seen them pass his house. They talked to Libby on the way as well.

At the hospital, Grandma Geri was taken directly to an examination room, leaving the granddaughters to wait. Their time filled with phone calls and texts from family wanting updates, which they didn’t have. Janelle had gotten up twice already to ask for one, and at the hour and a half mark was about to ask again when Aunt Gladys arrived.

Worry etched her face. “What have they told you?”

“Nothing,” Janelle said. “I was just about to ask—”

“Janelle?”

“Hi, Dr. Peters,” Janelle said. “This is my Aunt Gladys. I think you’ve met Stephanie.”

They exchanged greetings and Dr. Peters got down to business. “We’ve ordered additional tests, but based on my preliminary examination, we’re dealing with metastatic bones disease.”

“What exactly does that mean, Doctor?” Aunt Gladys said.

“It means the cancer has spread to her bones, which weakens the skeletal system. In this case it has spread to her spine.” Dr. Peters spoke in a low tone, as others were in the waiting area.

“Wait a minute,” Aunt Gladys said, perplexed. “A little over a week ago the CT scan showed the tumor had shrunk. We thought she was doing better.”

“To the naked eye the tumor appeared to have shrunk.” Dr. Peters looked a little perturbed. “Quite frankly, the radiologist who told you that misread the scan. It’s not my practice to give patients CT scan results based on observation only. I like to have the full report with actual measurements that can be compared to the original scan. That’s why I was planning to meet with Mrs. Sanders today.” He sighed. “The full report shows the tumor has actually grown.”

The women looked at one another.

“That is simply not acceptable, to get a family’s hopes up like that . . .” Aunt Gladys paused, releasing a sigh of frustration. “You said it has spread to her spine. And she couldn’t move this morning. Please tell me she’s not paralyzed.”

“I’m afraid that is her current condition, yes. It was not totally unexpected. Bone metastases are fairly common in advanced-stage lung cancer.”

“Now that I think about it,” Janelle said, “Grandma complained a couple of times lately about a sharp pain, but she couldn’t pinpoint it, and then it would disappear.”

“That’s usually one of the first signs,” Dr. Peters said. “You’ll be able to visit with her shortly, but we’ll obviously be keeping her here as we move forward with additional tests.”

Janelle, Stephanie, and Aunt Gladys went to the cafeteria to grab a bite and make calls. By evening Libby, Todd, and Sara Ann had come. Becca stayed home with the kids.

Most of them had been in Grandma Geri’s room for quick visits. Janelle and Libby were in there again now. The nurse had told them to keep it brief. Visiting hours were almost over, and their grandmother needed rest.

Grandma Geri was hooked to monitors, her bed inclined slightly, legs stretched beneath a blanket like normal. Except she couldn’t feel them.

Propped against the pillow, her head was turned toward her granddaughters. “Now you two know I don’t have much time.”

Libby held her hand. “Grandma, why are you saying that to everyone who comes in here? You’re being pessimistic.”

“I’m being realistic.” She starting coughing and holding her chest, and took the water Janelle handed her. After a sip, she continued. “I want to get on with that bucket list I started.”

Janelle looked at her. “You want to go shopping again?”

“No, nothing like that,” she said. “I’m talking about the daughter I haven’t seen in decades, and the granddaughter I’ve never seen. I don’t want to look down from heaven and see them at my funeral—if they’d even come. I want to see them while I’m alive.”

Janelle glanced at Libby and back to her grandmother. “We left messages for Aunt Gwynn today, and I exchanged texts with Keisha.” She was happy that Keisha responded. Nothing lengthy—just Thank you for the update—but a response nonetheless.

“I need you two to pray about this thing,” Grandma Geri said. “Gwynn hasn’t called anybody back in who-knows-how-long. Getting her here would take a miracle.”

“I’ve been praying already—”

“Well, step it up, Jan,” she said. “I don’t have long.”

Libby sighed. “Grandma, please.”

The door opened behind them and Travis appeared.

He stayed by the door. “Is this an okay time? I wanted to see my girl before visiting hours ended.”

Grandma Geri’s face brightened. “Come on in here, boy.”

There were no more chairs, so Janelle got up. “Go ahead and sit. I’ve been in and out of here all day.”

Libby gave Janelle the eye as Travis took the seat next to her. Janelle eased out of the room.

How quickly the dynamic had changed. One minute a peaceful family gathering with her grandmother and cousin. The next, a gathering in which she felt jumpy inside and found it hard to focus—all because of a one-person switch.

Libby held her hands in her lap, debating whether to get up herself and leave as the two of them talked.

Travis leaned forward on his elbows, always comfortable in conversation with Grandma Geri. He wasn’t focusing on her current state. He had her laughing as he told the latest happenings at the church.

“I’m serious, Grandma Geri. Sister Mason volunteered to make sweet potato pies for pastor’s appreciation. Now you know I’m all about some sweet potato pie—”

“Shirley can’t cook no sweet potato pies. They never turn out right.”

“I’m sayin’!” Travis had the biggest grin on his face. “So I said, ‘Sister Mason, nobody can make hot water cornbread like you. Could you please do me a favor and make that instead?’ ”

“What she say?”

“She said Brother Mason never liked her cornbread, so she didn’t think anyone else liked it either. Said she’ll make a batch for the church and one for me to take home—and you know I love when I can take some food home, since I can’t cook.”

“Will you please find you a wife? Don’t make no sense that you’re still single, all these nice young ladies running around here.”

Libby was sure of it; she should’ve left.

“I might not get married,” Travis said. “I might be like the apostle Paul and live a life of singleness, eating fast food.” His brow wrinkled. “I wonder if he ate fast food.”

“Oh, you’ll get married,” Grandma Geri said, “if I have to find you a bride myself. Got a bunch of grands and great-grands, you know. One sitting right here.”

Libby’s stomach went from jumping to double Dutching. “I think that’s enough, Grandma.”

Grandma Geri looked at her. “I done told you I don’t have much time. So I’m gonna say whatever I need to say.”

She started coughing again, and Libby gladly got up to pour water for her. She handed it to her grandmother. “Should I call the nurse?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” her grandmother coughed out. “Stop trying . . . to . . . change the subject.”

Libby watched her closely anyway, ready to call the nurse if it persisted much longer. She refused to look at Travis.

Grandma Geri started right in when her coughing subsided. “Now, Libby, those guys you’ve brought to the house are nice enough young men.”

Libby guessed she should be thankful her grandmother’s mental faculties were still sharp.

“But ain’t none of ’em in the kingdom, are they?”

Why, oh why is she questioning me in front of Travis? She cleared her throat. “Grandma, is this really necessary right now?”

Travis was looking downward. At least he was kind enough to give the appearance of having sympathy for her.

“Life is not complicated, baby. The wrong choices—no matter how right they seem at the time—can follow you the rest of your life. You see that with me and Gwynn. Obeying God is always the right choice. Always.” She cut an eye over to Travis. “Now that young man is in the kingdom, just so you know.”

Libby found that last part amusing, though she wouldn’t show it.

A nurse pushed the door open and entered. “I’m going to have to ask you two to let Mrs. Sanders rest,” she said.

Libby wanted to tell her she was ten minutes late.

“I was just getting a second wind,” Grandma Geri said.

“Grandma, you were in rare form this evening.” Libby kissed her cheek. “Rest well. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

Travis hugged her. “The church is praying. God’s got you. Grace and peace, Grandma Geri.”

They walked out into the hall and started toward the waiting area. After a few feet of silence, Travis looked over at her. “Sorry you had to go through that.”

Libby shrugged, following the tiled squares down the hall. “Just Grandma being Grandma.”

“For the record, marrying you wouldn’t work anyway.”

Her stomach jumped, thinking of the reasons she herself had said he couldn’t marry her. “Why not?”

“You can’t cook either.”

She laughed. “I beg your pardon. I’ve learned a lot over the years.”

“You learn how to cook?”

“Depends on how you define ‘cook.’”

Travis laughed heartily. After a few moments, he said, “How are you doing? This was a tough day for your family.”

“Very tough.” She looked at him. “Paralyzed? It’s horrible the way cancer ravages the body. I’m thankful she’s in good spirits despite everything. But it’s starting to hit us that Grandma may not be with us long. I can’t imagine what our family will be like without her.”

“Or Hope Springs, for that matter,” Travis said. “What would it be like for the Sanders family to be gone from that house at the end of the street? I can’t imagine.”

“I honestly hadn’t thought about that,” Libby said. “What will happen to that house? We have to keep it. Where else would we have our family reunions?” She shuddered. “I don’t want to think about any of it. One day at a time.”

Almost to the waiting room, she stopped and looked at Travis. “I want to thank you for always being there to lift Grandma’s spirits. You’re a special man.” She paused. “A true man of God.”

“I love your grandmother. Always have, even when I was giving her fits as a boy running in her garden. We had some fun down at that house.”

“Ooh, remember we used to play hide-and-seek at night? Don’t laugh, but I thought it was scary. I wanted somebody to find me so I wouldn’t be alone in the dark.”

“You don’t remember that time I found you behind the water tower, do you?”

Travis had turned that penetrating eye thing on. Libby took a steadying breath.

“I remember. One of y’all mischievous boys had changed up the rules. If you were the one seeking, you could pick one person you found and kiss them.” Libby laughed at the memory. “And Janelle said she’d only play if the kiss could be on the hand.”

“And when it was my turn to look, I found you and picked you as the one I wanted to kiss.”

Libby laughed again. “And I said, ‘I ain’t kissing you.’ So I held out my hand, and you kissed it.”

“What you don’t know,” Travis said, “is that I refused to wash my face that night, because my lips had touched Libby Sanders’s hand.”

“Stop lying.”

“I’m serious.”

They stared at one another, the history between them coursing through their veins.

“We’d better get back to the waiting room.”

He didn’t say anything. Wouldn’t break their gaze.

And Libby felt a pull like none she’d ever felt before.

“You’re right,” he said. “We’d better get back.”