and had refused to respond to any of her sister's comments. Ashley, who was unaccustomed to being ignored, inserted herself onto the edge of Cooper's chair.
"I've got it!" she exclaimed as Cooper turned a mismatched but fiery gaze upon her sister. "Coop? You should start coming to church with me! There's tons of nice, single men at church. And they're your age too."
Watching her sister warily, Cooper reached out and folded the newspaper so that when her father got home from his weekly shopping trip to Wal-Mart, his paper would appear to have been unread. She got up from the worn and scrubbed farm table in her parents' kitchen, refilled her coffee cup, and helped herself to a cookie.
"Not gonna happen, Ashley," Cooper replied firmly. "Besides, I have plans of my own." She hadn't told anyone that she was thinking about attending Brooke's church the following Sunday. Wanting to reread the flyer on Hope Street alone, Cooper walked out the back door, down a short path, and entered the small green house her father had built for her after the accident.
She inhaled the scents of her private refuge--a wheelbarrow filled with dark, rich soil, two aisles packed with seed trays bearing the first hints of green, a stack of terracotta planters, her bottles of pungent fertilizers, and a neat pile of gardening books on edible plants that Cooper had picked up from library and yard sales.
"
This
makes for a mighty nice church," she spoke to the air, delighting in the humidity and the dappled spring sunlight glinting off the glass roof. "There's plenty of proof of God right here." She looked around the cozy space, touching the plants flanking the center aisle. She then brushed some specks of dirt from the leaves of a seedling. "Grow well, my friend. You're going to help fill some hungry bellies come summertime."
Cooper spent the next few minutes flipping through a seed catalogue. She soon became so intent on deciding which tomato seeds to order that she didn't hear Ashley enter her sanctuary.
"I'm only trying to look out for you, Coop," her sister said as she watched Cooper straighten a group of seed trays on the potting table. Ashley held out her hand and wiggled the mammoth diamond of her engagement ring. The light caught the stone and shimmered along the row of smaller diamonds on her wedding band. "I'd like you to find someone as wonderful as my Lincoln." She sighed happily. "I know I'm just a bubbly newlywed talking, but the day I became Mrs. Lincoln Love was the happiest of my life. I know you thought you and Drew were gonna be like Lincoln and me, but it just wasn't meant to be I guess." Her long lashes fluttered as she surveyed her sister. "You're pretty, Cooper. You
could
catch a man and be happy again. I could help you."
Cooper crossed her arms and frowned. She felt no jealousy over her sister's ostentatious jewelry or the mention of her new and extremely wealthy husband, but she didn't like what she saw in Ashley's eyes.
"I don't want to be one of your charity projects." Cooper wiggled her index finger in irritation, knowing that Ashley saw herself as someone who had known no hardships in life and wanted to give something to those who were less fortunate. Cooper viewed these charitable works as Ashley's vain desire to appear in
Richmond
magazine and
Virginia Living
as often as possible, dressed in fabulous designer clothes, her arm draped around the mayor, the governor's wife, or another rich suburban do-gooder.
The trouble was, Ashley always distanced herself from the actual people she was purportedly bent on helping. She would organize builders, electricians, and plumbers to work for days constructing a house in the name of Habitat for Humanity, but she would never visit the site or meet the family. She would collect thousands of winter coats and Christmas presents for the children of area orphanages, but she would never meet any of the kids during the delivery of these gifts. Even her hospital volunteerism was conducted from a distance. Ashley would throw a dinner and raise funds for needed supplies or medical equipment, but she would never be introduced to one of the patients who had benefited from what the money had bought.
Everything Ashley did was self-serving to some degree, and Cooper didn't want to be a part of any of her sister's schemes. Suddenly, Cooper recalled Brooke's kindness and felt guilty over thinking such nasty thoughts about her sister.
"Look," Cooper told Ashley more gently and busied her hands tidying her pillar of catalogues. "I appreciate your wanting to help, I do, but I don't want to go to church to meet men. Isn't that what bars are for?" she quipped.
Ashley frowned. "Well, then go to church to pray. It doesn't look good that you're the only one of us that doesn't attend worship service."
"Doesn't look good to who?" Cooper demanded, getting annoyed again. She knew that Ashley wanted to chair some new committee at the large and powerful church she attended on River Road, a wealthy corridor composed of million-dollar homes and churches the size of college campuses. She was also aware of the fact that Ashley was embarrassed by her family.
Their father, Earl Lee, was in charge of maintenance at one of the area's private schools and their mother got up at 5:00 a.m. to bake cookies, which she sold to several Richmond sandwich shops. Except for Ashley, who resided with her husband in a mansion just off River Road, the Lees lived out in the country, a good twenty minutes from Richmond's West End subdivisions and endless strip malls. Cooper's parents were humble people who spent their money modestly but gave generously of their time. Their house was small, outdated, and yet incredibly cozy. Cooper lived in a minuscule studio apartment Mr. Lee had erected over the garage with the idea of moving his mother out of the main house, but Grammy Lee refused to budge.
Cooper shook her head, wondering for the millionth time how her parents could have spawned such entirely different children. She could only reason that during the one year, one month, one week, and one day that separated their birthdays, the world must have spun in the opposite direction. Looking at her sister as she turned the pages of a gardening magazine with complete disinterest, Cooper tried to keep her irritation in check. "No one outside of this house cares what I do, Ashley. Why don't you tell those snobby ladies at your church that your entire family was mauled by bears during a camping trip? Then you won't have to worry about how we make you look."
For a moment, Ashley turned Cooper's suggestion over in her mind. Suddenly, she scowled. "I can't say that! I've already talked about you all. Plus, it would be an outright lie and
that's
not going to get me elected."
Cooper began filling out the order form in the back of the seed catalogue. "Works for politicians all the time," she joked.
"Fine, Cooper. Rot away in this green house, living with your parents until you're old and gray. Go ahead." Ashley turned to leave. "But you
should
go to church, even if it's to suffer through that awful choir at Mama and Daddy's church."
"Why?" Cooper paused in her writing to drink some coffee.
"Because it's a place where people go to try and better themselves. A place where hurt folks can find some healing and where lonely people can find friends." Cooper was surprised to see genuine concern on Ashley's face. "After all, without me living here anymore, you must not have any close friends. You and Drew spent all your time with each other."
Cooper had never considered her sister to be a close friend, but she nodded anyway. "I told you, I've got plans in the works, okay? Now, just drop the subject. Don't you have a husband to get home to?"
"I certainly do," Ashley replied with a satisfied nod. She then whipped her lightweight suede coat closed, cinched a crocodile belt around her shapely waist, and strutted away, her hair bouncing in a shiny wave of honey as she walked. Cooper studied her own athletic body and long, straight blond hair in the green house glass, and, satisfied with what she saw, finished completing the order form.
Later that evening, she headed out to the mailbox with a lit cigarette and her order form. She lingered for a moment at the end of the driveway, watching the sun sink into the spindly arms of the trees and listening to the excited chatter of bats as they fluttered above her head. Cooper blew a stream of smoke into the spring air, still tinged with some of winter's lingering coolness, and wondered if she was truly ready to put the pain of her broken heart behind her and begin living her life again.
She picked a piece of tobacco from the tip of her tongue and flicked it onto the ground. Her eyes became fixated on the glowing end of her cigarette. Bending down, she crushed it out in the gravel and spent several moments crouched there, observing the spent stub. "I really wish I could kick this stupid habit."
Searching in her pocket for a tissue in which to wrap the cigarette butt, Cooper instead removed the Hope Street brochure and gazed at the words of welcome printed on the front cover.
"Should I go?" she whispered to the first evening star. "Could you send me a sign?" When the only response she received was a tickle on the cheek by a momentary breeze, she slowly walked back toward the house.
The workweek flew by and Cooper nearly forgot about Brooke Hughes and Hope Street. She and her mother spent most of the day on Saturday preparing the vegetable and herb gardens behind the house for planting. Together they weeded, tilled, and mixed compost with the soil, still damp from the previous eve ning's rain.
Earl Lee enjoyed the mild spring day by being outside as well. He mowed the lawn, replaced rotted posts on the split-rail fence, and tinkered around in the garage, undoubtedly trying to coax his '71 Chevy Malibu back to life.
When the family reconvened for dinner, Earl spoke a blessing over the food. As soon as they all finished saying amen, Grammy Lee launched a tirade over being served soft tacos with refried beans.
"What's this mush?" she demanded of no one in particular. "I still got my teeth, ya know." She plucked her dentures from her mouth and waved them around for everyone to see. "How about a nice piece of meat--one you gotta cut with a knife, not slurp up like pig slop?"
"We had rib eyes earlier this week, Grammy," Maggie replied calmly. "You know we can't have steaks all the time. They're too expensive."
"At least tomorrow's Sunday," Grammy mumbled, glaring at her plate with her cataract-clouded eyes. "That'll mean ham or bacon." She took a bite of beans and grimaced. "You at least gonna make some cinnamon rolls?" she asked Maggie.
"From scratch," Maggie said, passing her husband a bowl of shredded cheese. Cooper was amazed by how her mother was able to handle Grammy's gruffness without ever getting ruffed.
"So I see you're goin' to church tomorrow, girlie." Grammy pointed her fork at Cooper. "What brought this on? You got a cravin' to listen to those tone-deaf songbirds with us, Granddaughter? I don't think there's a soul in that little church younger than fifty. You'd best go where the young folks are." She cackled and then went on to remind them that she had been married for twenty years, a mother for fifteen years, and the owner of her own farm stand for ten years by the time she turned thirty-five.
"How'd you know I was planning to go to church tomorrow?" Cooper asked in surprise. "I only made up my mind a little while ago while I was working in the garden. I just got a feeling that it was time to try something new."
"How did I know?" Grammy guffawed, spraying the table in front of her with bits of refried beans. "Because, girlie, my room is right next to the washin' machine. You left the iron out to cool down and you haven't ironed any-thin' since you graduated from high school." She took a sip of iced tea and choked down the rest of the beans. "I figured you were either goin' to church or on a date." She gave Cooper an assessing glance and made it clear that she didn't approve of what she saw. "I'm goin' with church."
Cooper opened the yellow Hope Street brochure and read it over for the tenth time.
"I wonder if Brooke's here today," Cooper said to her image in the rearview mirror and then retrieved her pack of Camel Lights from her faux-leather purse. She lit a cigarette and hung her arm out the window of her red Silverado, which she had affectionately dubbed Cherry-O.
Her reflection blew a veil of smoke from between her thin lips. "I know," Cooper said to the mirror. "You don't look very sexy doing that, despite what you may think." She scowled at the burning cigarette. "I'm going to give these things up. Time for a fresh start, right?" After staring at the weathered brick building for a minute, she straightened the collar of her freshly ironed blouse and said, "Let's go."
Cooper got out of the truck, put out her cigarette using the bottom of her shoe, and walked to one of the church's side entrances. She paused at the trash can positioned several feet from the double doors.
"Okay, if I can go in there, I can do this." She threw the nearly full pack of Camels and a plastic Bic lighter inside. The two items hit the bottom with a satisfying
thunk.
"I never smoked until I met Drew, so if I'm going to start over"--she dug around in her purse until she found a package of gum--"then I'm going to do it with a little help from Wrigley's."
Hope Street Church was unlike any church Cooper had ever experienced. She was accustomed to the small, white clapboard structures of country churches, the pealing of bells at every hour, and the captivating stained-glass windows to gaze upon should the sermon become a tad too lulling. Hope Street was an impressive brick building whose cornerstone was placed over one hundred years ago. The original chapel had been expended after World War I and a roomy wing had been built in the early eighties for the Hope Street Christian Academy.
Daydreaming students on the north side of the building were treated to the view of the church's lush garden, while those on the south side were stuck staring at the vast parking lot. When the bells called people to worship, the sound was like that of a symphony. The powerful melody carried far across the rooftops of the local subdivisions.
