Hope Springs (10 page)

“I've been running from it, Bec, from my calling,” he continued. “Doing what's comfortable. Maybe I feared I wouldn't measure up to my dad and granddad. And frankly, I knew enough to know that shepherding a congregation can be one big headache after another. I didn't want the hassle. But now . . .”

Becca didn't necessarily want to hear the rest. She liked their life just fine before the
But now
.

He sighed. “I don't know . . . I know you're against the move. It's not even that I'm
for
it. I just can't shake it.” He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, and looked her in the eye. “But you're right. I'd be giving up a good salary. I'm out of my mind, aren't I?”

“Yes. You are.” She gave him a wry smile, then sighed herself. “I don't get what God is doing. Right when my travel ramps up, we're talking about moving away from Mom? She's invaluable to us. And most of my ministry opportunities are out of town now, but I still get speaking engagements in St. Louis. I would hate to leave the ministry network I've built here.” She felt a check inside. “And yet . . . this Calvary opportunity came out of the blue, just like Worth & Purpose. How can I say God is at work with one and not the other?”

Todd stared at her.

“What?”

“I hadn't thought about that. For so long we've been plugging along, taking steps that made sense. Now this ‘out of the blue' stuff.”

“Kind of like your message at your dad's funeral.” He had shared it with her on the way back to St. Louis. “Be nice if ‘living full-out' only applied to the things you're excited about.” Becca shook her head. “But I'm sorry, I don't think I could ever get excited about living in Hope Springs. I love our life here.”

“Sweetheart . . .” He stood and pulled her into a hug. “I love our life here too. I love our church. I love living in a city this size, with everything at our fingertips—shopping, restaurants, museums—”

“—Mom. Cable Internet.”

He laughed into her hair. “They've got cable Internet. Dad just didn't have it.” He stepped back and looked her in the eye. “Moving back to the place I grew up doesn't excite me either. But hearing from God and trusting Him on a whole new level—that's what excites me.” He held her shoulders. “I really do think this is God, Bec. But I'd never accept Calvary's offer without your full support.”

She walked to the window. So she could end this with a flat no? Though she wanted to say it, she found it hard. She'd never seen Todd so stirred up about anything related to job or ministry. What if he was right? What if this
was
God?

Or maybe it was some sort of test, God wanting to see if she was willing. But in the end the whole thing would fall through.

She turned back around. “How soon would we have to leave?”

“No telling how long it would take to sell the house in this economy,” he said. “Could be six months or more.”

A ray of hope poked its nose through. She didn't mind the “when” stretching into the future. More time meant more opportunities to change their minds. But admittedly, the housing issue was one benefit—they'd no longer have a mortgage if they moved into Todd's childhood home. “What would Calvary do without a pastor meanwhile?” she said.

“They were already figuring on an interim preacher while they did a search, so that wouldn't be a problem.” He paced a little. “But this isn't a done deal. The elders have to vote, then they recommend me to the congregation for a vote.”

Becca gave him a look. “It's a done deal.” She swallowed, encouraging herself.
Voicing support only means you're willing. Anything can happen between now and when the house finally sells
. “If you're fully convinced this is God and thus worth the drastic reduction in income and a drastic move to Hope Springs, then I guess . . . fine.”

Todd wrapped his arms around her. “I promise you I'll keep praying, and if I get the slightest inkling we're on the wrong track, I have no problem calling it off. And I'm not giving notice at work or church until we see movement with the house.” He looked her in the eye. “All the pieces have to fall into place.”

Becca nodded and sent up a silent prayer.

Lord, if there's any way we can stay, please . . . close this door
.

CHAPTER TEN
Thursday, December 31

J
anelle pulled up to her grandmother's house just shy of eleven in the evening on New Year's Eve, car loaded with clothes, books, toys, and everything else she and the kids deemed necessary for a few months' stay. She'd given them a lot of leeway, especially when it grew apparent that they weren't excited about the move. Actually, they'd staged a last-minute revolt. And she'd felt bad that she hadn't truly consulted them. Not that it would've changed her mind necessarily, but she'd learned that when she heard them out up front, the decision, whatever it was, tended to go down better.

Instead, after she'd packed up the car, the kids surprised her with a joint statement—read by Daniel and written in crayon—that they weren't going. Any other time she might've been amused. But they were already running late, and her own emotions about the move were running on high. Thankfully, she'd been able to smooth things over relatively quickly by focusing on how happy they would make Grandma Geri and by allowing them to tote even more stuff to create the feeling of home away from home.

Daniel had run back for his Xbox
and
PlayStation 3, and every corresponding game. Tiffany had carted a huge plastic container with every crayon, marker, and coloring book, and her entire collection of Groovy Girl dolls—which brought tears the first few minutes of the trip. “I won't have
anyone
to play dolls with,” she said. Then, clutching one of them, “These are the only friends I'll have.”

Janelle pondered the temporary move all the way to Hope Springs. Wasn't easy for her either. For more than two years she'd lived with tangible reminders of David—photos around the house, his books and favorite magazines in the office and family room, jackets and baseball caps in the coat closet, and clothes she hadn't yet brought herself to remove from their bedroom closet. For this trip the only reminder she packed was a single family photo from the nightstand and the journal in which she recorded her thoughts about him.

She had no idea that the emotion of leaving it all behind could be worse than the emotion of living with it. However symbolic, she felt she was making a break—and she didn't know if she was ready.

She cut the engine and glanced back. The kids were wide awake. Tiffany clutched one of her dolls still. Her big brown eyes stared at her mother, and she didn't make a move to get out. Daniel looked down, wearing the same pout he'd worn when she pulled out of their Maryland driveway.

She opened her car door just as her dad and Uncle Wood appeared at Grandma Geri's front door.

“We stayed to help you unload,” Dad said, hugging her. “Everyone but your mom and Libby already left for church. Service started at eleven.” He opened the back door by Tiffany. “Aww, look at those long faces. You two are usually so excited to be here.”

Janelle exchanged a glance with him. She'd called her parents from the car and told them how the kids had protested.

“Nothing to be excited about, Granddaddy.” Daniel sounded like an old soul, resigned to his misfortune. “You and Grandma Estelle and everybody else are leaving tomorrow. I have to start a new school. Left all my friends. It'll be the most boring time of my life.”

“Yeah.” Tiffany liked her role of joint-protestor. “Claire's gone, so I don't have anyone to play with either.” She folded her arms. “It's gonna be boring.”

“Oh, come on out of the car and give your granddaddy a big hug.” Her dad unbuckled Tiffany's seat belt and lifted her out.

Uncle Wood opened the door on Daniel's side. “I can't believe you haven't figured out what a great adventure this'll be.”

Daniel got out and looked suspiciously at him. “Mom told you to say that.”

“Your mom didn't have to tell me to say that. I already know it's an adventure—I grew up here.” Uncle Wood gestured around them. “This is the country, where normal rules don't apply. Do you get to ride your bike to the convenience store to buy candy in Maryland?”

Daniel made a face. “No way. Too far and the streets are too busy.”

“Do you get to roam the woods and bring home snakes and play outside after dark?”

His eyes got big. “Never.”

Janelle's eyes got big too. She appreciated the pep talk, but Daniel had better not pick up a snake, much less bring it home.

Tiffany tugged the bottom of Uncle Wood's shirt. “What about me? I'm scared of the woods. What kind of adventure can I have?”

Uncle Wood let out a big laugh. “Lots and lots.” He picked her up and swung her around, breaking Tiffany's mood. “You ask my twin sister,” he said once they'd stopped. “Your Grandma Estelle had lots of girlie adventures growing up.”

Tiffany latched onto her sour mood again. “But Grandma had sisters to play with. I don't have anybody.”

“Nice try, Uncle Wood,” Janelle said.

Uncle Wood gave a hearty laugh. “You look just like your cousin Libby when she was your age and couldn't get her way.”

Janelle's dad and uncle grabbed luggage and duffel bags from the trunk, and the group of them moved toward the door.

“How's Grandma?” Janelle asked. “Was she up to going to church?”

Much of the family had stayed in town longer than planned so they could attend Watch Night Service at New Jerusalem. Travis said they'd have special prayer over Grandma Geri and ring in the New Year with praise for what God would do in her life.

“Said she wouldn't miss it,” her dad said. “She took a nap so she'd have energy to stay up.”

“This week with family has been great for her spirits,” added Uncle Wood.

“What about Aunt Gwynn? Anybody hear from her yet?”

Uncle Wood paused before opening the screen door, shaking his head. “Left messages, but nothing so far.”

Janelle frowned. “Why not tell her Grandma's sick? I'm sure she'd call then.”

“Momma said she doesn't want a sympathy call. She's been praying a long time for real reconciliation.”

Libby pulled the door open. “Girl, you barely made it.” She stepped back for the crew to walk in. “Hey, Tiffy! Hey, Daniel!”

The kids mumbled hey as they trudged past.

“Uh-uh.” Libby tapped them both on the shoulder. “Hugs.” She extended her arms.

Daniel and Tiffany brought their heads over for a weak hug, as Libby offered Janelle a sympathetic eye.

Daniel continued on, then stopped and looked around, unsure where to go. “Mom, where am I supposed to put my stuff? Which room'll be mine?”

Estelle was coming down the hall. “We've got it all set up for you,” she said, smiling. She hugged them both. “You two are in the middle bedroom. I even put a couple of surprises in there for you.”

Daniel looked back at Janelle. “Mom, I'm not sharing a room with Tiffany, am I?”

“Of course you are, sweetheart. There are only three bedrooms.”

“But Tiffany can sleep with you, and I can have a room by myself.”

“Young man.” Estelle was as patient as they came, but she didn't play either. “I didn't have a room to myself until I graduated and went to college, and even then I had to wait two years. Be thankful you've got your own room at home. While you're here you'll be content with what you have.” She tipped his chin. “Hear me?”

“Yes, ma'am,” came half audibly out of his mouth.

“And anyway, Daniel,” Janelle said, “just so you know, Cousin Stephanie and I will be sharing the other room.”

Estelle clapped her hands together with a big smile. “She decided to come?”

Janelle nodded. “Talked to her about an hour ago. She's leaving before dawn tomorrow, driving straight through. I'm really excited about it.”

“That's awesome,” Libby said.

“Warms my heart,” Estelle said. “So glad you cousins will get to spend time together.” She looked down at Daniel and Tiffany. “Let's put your things down and get you two ready to go.” She glanced at Janelle. “We've got to shake a leg.”

Janelle's dad carried her luggage into the room her mother and two sisters, Gladys and Gwynn, shared growing up. The room was spacious, with two queen-sized beds, three large dressers, and throw rugs on the hardwood floor.

She threw a suitcase on one of the beds and opened it, taking out the clothes she'd packed on top so she could change quickly. Libby plopped down on the other bed.

Janelle looked at her cousin. “I can see that bracelet sparkling way over here, girl,” she said.

“I had no idea Al would get me this for Christmas. Jan, I told him I wasn't looking for a serious relationship.”