CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Saturday, February 27

No, it’s definitely lopsided.” Janelle’s head went lopsided as she looked at it. “It’s too high on the right.”

Stephanie held her hands out wide like a picture frame. “I don’t know. Looks even to me.”

Todd and Travis, perched high on a pair of ladders, looked at them impatiently from either end of a banner strung across the family room.

“Hanging out on ladders is not my favorite thing,” Todd said. “Are we good or are we not?”

“Mom, can you come here a minute?” Janelle called.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Estelle called back. “I’m making the roux for the macaroni and cheese.”

“Oh no, go on and tend to that,” Travis told her. “That’s much more important.”

Janelle made a face at him. “Jackie, are you in there?” she called.

Their teenage cousin, Aunt Gladys’s granddaughter, had arrived in town that afternoon. She bebopped into the family room, texting on her phone, and looked up. “Ooh, that thing is lopsided.” She turned to Janelle. “Did you call me?”

“That was all I needed, my dear.” She looked at Stephanie. “Get your eyes checked.”

Todd and Travis adjusted the banner, came down, and the four of them stared at it.

HAPPY 87TH BIRTHDAY, GRANDMA GERI! it said.

Janelle sighed, trying to push away the sadness. “Okay. I can do this.”

“We have to do this,” Stephanie said. “We have to stay upbeat.”

They’d been giving one another pep talks all day. It had been hard watching Grandma Geri since she’d gotten home from the hospital. She’d stayed there eleven days, undergoing various tests and close monitoring. Though still in fairly good spirits, it seemed ever since the paralysis she’d been going downhill physically. She stayed in bed mostly, wasn’t eating much, didn’t even want a birthday party. She said a big family celebration would only remind her that all her family wasn’t present.

But that was the point of the party—to gather all the family. After Grandma Geri charged Janelle and Libby to pray that she could see Aunt Gwynn and Keisha, Libby had been planning. She’d never been responsible for a Sanders family gathering before—the older generation planned; her generation showed up.

But she went to work and put Janelle and Stephanie to work, calling every single person in the Sanders family directory plus family beyond the immediate clan. They wanted the family reunion vibe of summer—festive, overflowing with food and fun.

Except how could it really be fun? They knew why they were gathering. Barring a miracle, this would be Grandma Geri’s last birthday. And how could it be fun when she was deteriorating before their very eyes?

And there was the matter of Aunt Gwynn and Keisha. If they didn’t come, the entire purpose for the event would have failed. And if they did come and it didn’t go well . . .

Still, for the sake of Grandma Geri and the occasion, Janelle and Stephanie had vowed to exude joy. And Stephanie had additional incentive. Lindell and the rest of her family were coming.

Janelle picked up her notepad and placed a check by banner. “All right, what’s next? We don’t have much time before cars start arriving.”

Stephanie looked at the list. “We’re rolling. Food preparation duly delegated to the elders, cleaning detail duly delegated to the youngsters. Balloons on the way.”

“We picked up the cake,” Janelle added. “What about the video?”

“Check,” Travis said. “Got it from Terry.”

“Cool, thanks.” Janelle couldn’t wait to surprise Grandma Geri with it. The media guy at New Jerusalem had put together a celebration of her life, with pictures they’d given him and interviews he’d done of family members and church members.

“Where is Libby?” Stephanie asked. “Isn’t she supposed to be handling this day-of-event stuff?”

“Good question,” Janelle said. “She should’ve been here at least an hour ago.”

Todd rested in a recliner. “What’s the latest on Keisha and her mom?”

“First she said she couldn’t come, then she was thinking about driving down with her husband and son, but her husband had a conflict.” Janelle raised a brow, not wanting to admit she was skeptical. “Uncle Bruce offered Keisha and Aunt Gwynn his airline rewards tickets, and there’s a flight that leaves in an hour. I don’t know if they’ll be on it.”

“We haven’t told Grandma any of this,” Janelle added. “If it doesn’t work out, she’ll never know it was a possibility.”

The door burst open, and Daniel, Tiffany, Claire, and a gaggle of other kids came tearing through the family room on their way to who-knew-where.

“Hey!” Janelle and Todd called at once.

“Come back here,” he added.

Those kids had been on the go ever since Aunt Gladys’s grand-kids—six of them under ten—showed up. Janelle’s dad and Uncle Wood were at their usual post outdoors, grilling and keeping an eye on the kids, supposedly. The late February weather was unseasonably warm, and Janelle figured the children had a touch of spring fever.

The stampede was much slower in reverse.

“Yes, Daddy?” Claire asked, looking innocent.

“You know you don’t run through the house.”

“All of you know that,” Janelle said. “And, Daniel, you were leading the pack, and I know you know better. If you want to run, stay outdoors. If you come inside, you’ll sit down and do something productive—or maybe take a nap.”

They were out the door in a flash.

Stephanie laughed. “Girl, you said nap, and that was all she wrote.”

“It’s a shame,” Janelle said. “I hear myself issuing the same threats they gave us when we were running around here. Nap was the biggest threat of all.”

“Shoot, Grandma Geri would make me take a nap.” Travis laughed. “I was like, ‘I can just go home,’ and she’d say, ‘Boy, lie down and close your eyes.’ ”

“So many memories,” Todd said. “I know we want to keep it upbeat, but wow . . . whenever the Lord sees fit to take Grandma Geri home, that’ll be the end of an era on this street. What if y’all sell this house and another family moves in? How weird would that be?”

“No one wants to talk about it,” Janelle said. “But the reality is, a lot of decisions will need to be made, sooner rather than later.”

They heard a rap on the door.

“That’s the balloon delivery,” Stephanie said. She went to open the door—and squealed.

Janelle looked and squealed herself. She hadn’t seen Uncle Bruce, Aunt Claudia, or Cyd in years.

“Y’all are here!” Stephanie embraced Lindell tight for several seconds, then kissed him. “I missed you.”

Janelle smiled at the teary sound in Stephanie’s voice.

Lindell kissed her again. “Missed you too, babe.”

Stephanie hugged her mom and dad next, then—“Oh, look at Chase!” Stephanie lifted him from Cyd. “Hi, sweetie! You’re so big now. And your birthday’s coming soon.” She kissed his cheek. “You didn’t forget Aunt Stephy, did you?”

Chase wrapped his arms around her and laid his head on her neck.

“Aw, you’re gonna make me cry,” Stephanie said. “Oh, I guess I should greet your parents, huh?”

“Yeah, we were wondering.” Cyd had a big smile as she hugged her sister.

Janelle opened her arms wide to hug Cyd herself. “So happy for you,” Janelle said. “Last time I saw you, you were single. Now you’re married with a baby.” She turned to her husband. “Hi, I’m Cyd’s cousin Janelle.”

Cyd’s husband hugged her. “Hey, Janelle. I’m Cedric. Great to meet you.”

“So wait . . .” Janelle glanced between the two of them. “You and Lindell are brothers, right?”

Cedric smiled. “I claim him sometimes.”

“How long are you all staying?” Janelle asked.

“Unfortunately, this one’s a quick visit,” Uncle Bruce said. “We fly back tomorrow evening.”

“But Stephanie and I are driving back together,” Lindell said.

Janelle looked at her cousin. “So you’re leaving us for real this time?”

“For real.” Stephanie hugged Lindell’s waist. “I miss my hubby.”

Todd and Travis had come over to greet everyone.

Uncle Bruce hugged Todd. “Still can’t believe your dad is gone. Knew him all his life. And, son, I’m really proud of you for what you’re doing at Calvary.” He grabbed Travis’s hand and brought him to a hug. “You too, Travis. Stephanie’s been updating me. Both of you have grown up to be fine men of God.”

“Thanks, Bruce.” Travis had a gleam in his eye. “But you said that like you’re surprised.”

Uncle Bruce laughed. “Uh, a little.” He glanced around. “Momma’s in her room?”

Stephanie nodded.

As he and the others started down the hall, the door opened again. Libby walked in, followed by Omar, the guy she’d brought a few Sundays ago to dinner. Janelle had to give it to her—he was good-looking.

“Hey,” Libby said, “sorry I’m late. Y’all remember Omar, right?”

“How’s everybody?” he said, shaking each hand. “Nice to see you all again.”

“You as well,” Travis said.

Travis looked as if he were about to approach Libby to greet her, but she turned to Omar.

“Let’s find my mom and dad,” she said. “I want you to meet them.”

Grandma Geri was all dolled up in her wheelchair, surrounded by a family room full of loved ones. Aunt Gladys had gotten her a new outfit, and she and Estelle had helped their mother dress and do her makeup. They’d also gotten a stylist to come shape up her short ’fro—her new style when her hair began falling out. After resting earlier she’d been out socializing for more than two hours, opening gifts, ordering people to eat—even if she didn’t eat herself—and getting a kick out of her video, telling them to rewind it twice. Much as she’d said she didn’t want a party, she was wearing it well.

Janelle left the main party site and went to the living room to see if she’d left her camera there. She picked it up, and when she turned, she was facing Kevin, Kory’s older brother.

“Hey,” she said, ready to move around him. She’d already made casual—and quick—conversation with him and his family.

“Janelle, can I talk to you a minute?” he said.

Her heart slipped into an erratic beat. Didn’t help that he and Kory favored one another. “Okay.”

“Kory told me what you did, and I wanted to tell you how much I admired that.”

“Okay.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“I hope you know how much he cared about you.”

Past tense. Nice. Thanks for clarifying that, Kevin. She had nothing to say to that either.

“Well. That’s all I wanted to say,” Kevin said. He turned to leave.

Don’t do it, Janelle. Do not ask him—“Kevin?”

He turned around.

“So . . . they’re together?”

“Shelley’s with him and Dee at the house, yes.”

“Okay.”

Instead of going back to the party, she went to her room, closed the door, and sat cross-legged on the bed. There was no other explanation for Kory not calling the last three weeks, but hearing it—knowing it . . .

In the morning she’d sort through her feelings in her journal. With God’s help she’d get to a place where she could pray for him and Shelley again—wasn’t this news an answer to her prayers? But right now, it hurt. And she only wanted to cry.

Janelle still had the camera in hand. She turned it on and pushed the button to view the pictures. She scrolled through ones just taken today, then back, back she went until she got to Todd’s reception at Calvary and the pictures she’d taken with Kory. The only ones they’d ever taken.

She stared at the two of them, his arm around her, her head tucked close to his chest. She remembered his words, his tone, his touch, his feel. She moved her finger to the button and clicked the picture into the trash. Then the next. And she had her cry.

Minutes later, she heard a quick knock at the door, and then it opened. Libby stuck her head in. “Janelle, there’s a taxi—what’s wrong?”

Janelle swiped her face. “Nothing.” She jumped up. “A taxi’s here?”

“It’s coming down the road, and it’s got to have Keisha in it at least. People are headed outside.”

Janelle followed. They took the side door near the kitchen, and indeed, most of the family stood in the dark to greet the yellow taxi. Looked like the driver had his high beams on, which wasn’t unusual around there if you didn’t know your way, but it prevented them from seeing who or even how many were in the car.

Several seconds passed, then a back door opened and a woman stepped out.

“Is that Keisha?” Libby said. “I can’t hardly tell with that stupid bright light in my eyes.”

“I don’t know if that’s Keisha, but whoever it is isn’t alone, because she’s helping somebody else out, an older woman. That must be Aunt Floretta.”

“I didn’t know she was coming,” Libby said.

“Me either.”

Janelle expected the door to close, but a third woman got out. Everything in her seemed to pause—she knew it must be Aunt Gwynn.

Libby knew too, because they were both struck silent.

The driver gave them their luggage, and the taxi with the bright lights pulled away. The three women stood in place, looking at the house, the family that had gathered outside, and each other.

Uncle Bruce, Aunt Gladys, Estelle, and Uncle Wood were the first to go to them. Seeing their parents move, Janelle and Libby were seconds behind. Faces were lost in hugs, questions lost in tears. Janelle hugged Aunt Floretta and then Aunt Gwynn, who was then corralled by her siblings to a separate powwow. She then hugged Keisha, who even in the dark looked pretty much the same—smooth café au lait skin, wavy hair layered short, maybe a little leftover baby weight.

“I’m so glad you came.” Janelle wished she could stay a week so they could talk all day and night.

“I honestly wasn’t sure until the last minute. I didn’t want to come without my mother, and the only way my mother would come was if Grandma came. I ended up charging a ticket for her.”

Janelle and Libby glanced at one another. It was strange hearing Keisha refer to Aunt Floretta as “Grandma.”

“Your very first time in Hope Springs,” Libby said. “This is truly a moment.”

Keisha looked around. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow when I can see the town better.” She looked to where her mother appeared to still be in deep conversation with her siblings. “It’s weird. My mother has her memories to contend with here; I have none.”

Cyd and Stephanie came over and hugged Keisha as well. As they all shared small talk, Janelle said, “Forgive me for staring. You and your brother have the same eyes.” She spun around. “Where is Todd?”

He was in the distance, giving the family space. Janelle waved him over.

“Todd, this is Keisha. Keisha, Todd.”

They took one another in, and the resemblance really was obvious.

“Can I . . . hug you?” Todd said.

Keisha seemed overwhelmed, perhaps more than she thought she’d be. She didn’t answer. She just reached for him and they embraced.

Janelle wanted to cry again, happy tears this time.

“You said you wouldn’t come unless you were open to building a relationship,” Todd said. “I’m hoping this means . . .”

Keisha nodded with a slight smile. “I’m open.”

Aunt Floretta had moved inside with other family members, to where Grandma Geri had remained in her wheelchair. More family came to greet Keisha, many for the first time. Keisha was a little guarded, not at all chatty, trying to feel her way in a new environment with a lot of new family.

“Should we go inside?” Janelle asked her.

Keisha looked back at her mom. No telling how long the five siblings would be in conference. “Might as well,” Keisha said.

But when Keisha began to move toward the house, Aunt Gwynn called to her. “We’ll go in together,” Aunt Gwynn said.

The rest of them walked on into the house. Family was still gathered around Grandma Geri, but much more somber, no one knowing what to expect. Grandma Geri looked more nervous than Janelle had ever seen her, fidgeting with a napkin, leaving it in shreds in her lap. Janelle grabbed one of her hands and held it. She prayed what she’d been praying for weeks.

Lord, please bring peace where there’s been strife. Bring healing where there’s been hurt. Bring forgiveness where there’s been bitterness. May Your love flow in our hearts.

Janelle tried to read her mom when she walked in, but she seemed lost in her own thoughts. Same with each one who entered after her. None of the usual banter. Almost a heaviness.

Aunt Gwynn walked in next with Keisha. In the light Grandma Geri’s youngest looked a lot like her older sisters, but with a leaner frame. She wore a sweater with matching cardigan and slacks, small pearl earrings in her ears. Her hair, layered short like her daughter’s, looked recently styled. Life appeared to be treating her well, at least on the surface.

With all the remodeling the house had to look vastly different. This family room didn’t exist when she left home. Aunt Gwynn didn’t look at anyone in particular, just at the room, the ceiling; then she disappeared down the hall, Keisha by her side, as they took in the rest of the house. Hardly anyone spoke. They waited until the two did what they needed to do and made their way back.

Janelle could hear them coming, and Aunt Floretta met them down the hall. They paused there in conversation, then continued on, only to the edge of the family room. There they stood.

Family members looked at one another. What now? The principle players were in the room, but they couldn’t be made to talk. Meanwhile, the party had come to a screeching halt.

Suddenly Keisha moved out from her mom and “grandmom.” She walked over to the wheelchair and knelt in front of it. “I’m Keisha,” she said, extending her hand.

Grandma Geri’s eyes bubbled with tears. She stared at Keisha as if noting every aspect of her, then she ignored her hand, pulled her close, and hugged her. Keisha leaned in, returning the embrace.

Janelle had never heard her grandmother weep like that, not even when Grandpa Elwood died. Her upper frame shook as she held tight to her granddaughter. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I hate that I never knew you. Please, please forgive me.”

Libby looked at Janelle as if trying to hold back tears, but it was useless. There was hardly a dry eye in the family room.

Janelle was surprised to see that Keisha was crying too. She pulled back a little, looking Grandma Geri in the eye. “I spent a lot of my life being bitter about what happened, and I’ll bet you’ve spent a lot of your life regretting it. I don’t want to talk about that anymore.” Keisha wiped tears from her face. “I want to talk about you. I want to get to know . . . my Grandma Geri.”

“And I want to get to know my Keisha.”

Grandma Geri embraced her again, then Keisha sat on a chair next to the wheelchair, holding her grandmother’s hand—mostly because Grandma Geri wouldn’t let her go.

An awkward silence seeped in again. Did they resume mingling and chatting? Wait to see if Aunt Gwynn would come forward?

She did finally, slowly. She sat on the sofa a few feet from the wheelchair, though it wasn’t clear if she was making herself comfortable or opening up dialogue.

“This is very difficult, being here,” she said finally, seemingly to everyone. “I’ve been gone almost forty years, and though from time to time I’ve seen my sisters and brothers and their kids, and a few others of you who’ve come to Jersey, most of you are practically strangers.” She looked out among them. “It cost me a lot, staying away. But neither could I come for many reasons. So I buried the past. Ran from it mostly. Who knows what the right thing was to do? Maybe I should’ve shown up at a family reunion one year with my daughter and faced my mother, Jim, and all my demons.” She shrugged. “Who knows?”

Aunt Gwynn took her time, almost emotionless. “So now I’m supposed to make my appearance in Hope Springs after all these decades, rush to my ailing mother’s side, and say all is forgiven so she can feel . . . oh, I don’t know . . . freer as her life nears an end. Is that what we’re doing here?”

Grandma Geri had a tissue Aunt Gladys had slipped her. She clutched it in her lap, looking at the floor.

“See, it’s real nice,” Aunt Gwynn said, “that my daughter can say she doesn’t want to talk about the past, because she didn’t live that past. I did.” Emotion was entering into her voice. “I was the one who was told not to bring my baby back here if I chose to keep her. I was the one made to feel like I’d done something horribly wrong because I’d fallen in love with a white man. Do you know I’ve never fallen in love with anyone else my entire life?”

She took a breath, looked at no one in particular.

“So maybe you’re wondering why I came.” She was back to her collected self. “I came for my daughter, because she asked me. She wants to get to know her grandmother, and I will not discourage her. That’s her choice. As for me, I still cannot think about my mother—my churchgoing, Bible-reading, always-telling-me-right-from-wrong mother—without seeing her face as she sent me from home and handed me an ultimatum about my baby. God help me, but I’m not ready to forgive her.”

She stood. “Wood, you said you’d take me to my hotel?” She headed for the door.

“Gwynn, don’t leave like this.” Aunt Gladys stood as well. “What happened was terrible, but you’ve got to put it behind you for your own good. You’ve got to make peace.”

“Gladys, I told you outside. This is where I am and I’m not going to pretend.” She looked at her brother. “Wood, will you take me or not?”

The pain was evident in Uncle Wood’s eyes. “’Course I’ll take you, Gwynn.”

He picked up her luggage near the door and they walked out.

Keisha spoke with Grandma Geri in low tones. Janelle’s mom, Aunt Gladys, and Aunt Denise went to the kitchen, where they would begin cleaning and dissecting everything about the night. The rest seemed to grope for what to do next.

Libby needed air. She walked out of the house a few seconds after her dad and watched him and Aunt Gwynn pull away. The entire episode had shaken her. She wished they hadn’t had the party, not when it only gave Aunt Gwynn a forum to voice decades of bitterness. Grandma Geri would never forget the things she said, and in front of everybody. As sick as she was, to have to endure that kind of pain . . .

But Libby knew it was more than that. She took a few steps in the gravel, looking into the night sky, the silver moon. She’d seen in her aunt Gwynn a glimpse of herself—the running, the rebellion. Would Libby find herself in that same spot twenty years from now, alone, hardened . . . sad? That’s what struck her the most, that Aunt Gwynn was sad, whether she realized it or not. She’d locked herself in a prison and didn’t know how to get out. And hadn’t Libby? Hadn’t she locked up her heart, not knowing how to—

She turned when she heard footsteps coming toward her.

“Travis, I can’t. Not now.” She turned back around, her heart beating through her chest.

“Just wanted to see if you were okay.” He stopped in front of her, his presence causing her to shiver. “You looked upset in there.”

Her feelings were a contradiction. She wanted him to go. She wanted him to hold her. “Hard not to be upset.” She couldn’t look at him. “But I’ll be all right.”

“Okay.”

He started back to the house.

“Travis . . .”

He paused. “Yes?”

She closed her eyes, not wanting to reveal her thoughts. But she wanted to know. “Am I a project to you?”

He walked back to her. “What do you mean?”

“Do you feel like you hurt me in the past, so you have an obligation to act like you care, invite me to church, and all that?”

“It’s no obligation. I do care about you, Libby.”

“As a pastor?”

“As a friend.”

Quiet engulfed them for a few moments.

“So I see you and Omar are hanging in there.”

“Yeah. Things are going well.”

“Seems like a nice guy.”

“He is.”

They both stared into the night sky.

“Libby, I . . .” He turned to her, and his brown eyes spoke in earnest, looking deep into hers, grappling. He sighed. “I’d better go.”

She watched him walk back into the house, sure of what he’d said. He could see her as a friend but nothing more. He knew the life she’d been leading, the kind of life that disqualified her from his.