Hope Springs: Chapters 15–27

Texas Red Oaks lined our road and dappled the hills, and the summer trill of bugs and sweet grass filled the air.

Though I didn’t want her to be reminded of going backward, I wondered if Abby’d mentioned Nan’s marshmallow affinity or if the whole Standridge family was simply double-dosed with some sort of sixth sense when it came to hospitality.

“So, Jubilee, what’s this I hear about you organizing some kind of rally?” Nan asked. “Miss Esther stopped by this afternoon and said you’d called everybody in town. Frankly, I think she’s miffed she wasn’t included. Believe me, the woman knows every soul, living and passed on, in the whole county.”

I tried not to stare when Colton came in and walked toward us. But then he scooted into my side of the booth and caused me to lose all focus and concentration for several seconds. He nodded his hellos, and Abby shot me a not-too-subtle look, earning her a kick under the table.
“Ow!” she said and bent to rub her shin. Subtlety wasn’t one of Abby’s best qualities.

“We can use the track. He’ll even put on a race. All money from entry fees and tickets could go to the community Downtown Revitalization Fund,” Colton said.

Abby’s mom clasped both hands and said in a choked-up voice, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a perfect moment of grassroots organization.”

As Wynn’s Chevy lurched to a stop, he pushed a few buttons and a slide guitar intro began for what I could only guess was Brent Chisholm’s duet with Momma.

I greeted people and showed them to the back room. As much as I tried to focus on Holly’s class, the maps lurked in the back of my mind. For Nan those maps meant fresh possibilities.

Nan’s selection of remnants was a little flashy for my tastes, but I figured she hadn’t come to hear my advice.

The young activists are Hope Springs natives Colton Griggs and Abby Standridge, daughter of the mayor, and newcomer Jubilee Johnson.

“It was really Abby’s idea, and we couldn’t have done it without Colton and his dad offering up a venue. I just made some posters and the rallypops,” Johnson said.

Abby and I found a food truck, got in line, and she launched into a heated retelling of all her catches. “There’s a five-catch limit. So, every time you get a bigger fish you cull your live well, meaning you throw the smallest fish back and let the bigger one take its place...."

"...By ten o’clock we still hadn’t had much luck. Then dad snagged a hefty four-pounder. But we only caught peanuts after that, and by noon the fish get lazy and hunker down. I was desperate. So, I did the only thing I could think of.”
“Used your stink bait?” I asked.
Abby nodded.

Arletta Paisley appeared at the very last minute; signs flashed for applause. I clapped until my hands stung. She wore cowboy boots with a long white ruffled skirt and a denim shirt and waved like a beauty queen—a perfect combination of folksy and classy.

During the next commercial break, a Hearth & Home employee with a grubby goatee approached our aisle and pointed at me.

“Holly Paine. Oh, I remember her. Mousy little thing. Does she still wear her hair in that awful braid?” Arletta asked.

“Well, go on,” Arletta said. “Shoo.” And she actually did a little skedaddle motion with her hands like I was a stray cat.

The truth is, your daddy was better than me. I pray every day that you end up with more pieces of him than me. I pray that you are strong but forgiving, that you are resilient but hopeful, and that you are kind but nobody's fool.

After that call, I was too excited to sit for dinner.
“You’re awful riled up,” Nan said. “Need any help?”
“I think I’ve got it about figured out. There are a few details to get sorted, though.” I filled both Nan and Wynn in.

The very next day, Brent Chisholm sat for an interview on The Country Call, a Dallas morning news show, and announced his free impromptu concert in Hope Springs—a chance to show his support for local small businesses across the heartland.

“I don’t see how it’s your business, Wynn, but if you must know, Alexandra called and she’s forcing my hand. These are the only two options I could get her to agree to. She likes the idea of Jubilee going back to the same school and having some consistency, but she likes the idea of Jubilee being closer even better. I figured you’d know all about it, being her right-hand man.”

“Nice?” Holly asked. “That’s all you’ve got?” She sidled up to me. “I might even let you use it.”

“There’s your problem, honey. Same thing happened to Claire Von Montclair and the General—she couldn’t be honest about her feelings, so he left never knowing how deeply she loved him. And her lapse of courage cost her the love of a lifetime.” Holly paused to stare off into the distance for a second.

First, I pulled a striped green seersucker for my center pentagon, put a piece of strawberry-print cotton on the longest side, and kept going until I had my own perfectly mixed-up square.

I’d spent the last few nights mulling over what I’d say to Momma and then praying the right words would be enough.

The scratchy chirp of katydids filled the evening air.

Brent sauntered up to me and said, “Jubilee, I’ve heard so much about you. I think what you and your friends have done here is awesome, and I’m happy to be a part of it.”

“I already looked into private schools. Can you believe it? Private. Schools. You wouldn’t have to worry about your outfit every day. And since the tour is still going, we could get someone to stay with us, someone young and fun, an au pair. Sounds fancy, right?” She laughed, but when I didn’t, she turned serious.

Over the past few days, I’d been growing this small bit of hope, letting it build up little by little like yarn wrapped from a skein.

As I waved back to her little brothers, I had an idea that would take all the courage I could muster.

So much hovered over me that, by the time we got to Griggs’ Rigs Racing, I was almost sorry I’d ever thought up the rally to begin with. But then I saw the tracks all decorated with colorful pennant banners and a motor revved, nearly matching the speed of my heartbeat. We’d done it.

“So, your mom and Brent are setting up,” he said. “She said my stage was ‘cute as a bug’s ear,’ but they needed a ‘smidgen’ more space.” He used finger quotes. “Also said you might be moving soon.”

Colton might be stingy with words sometimes, but he sure chose the right ones when it counted.

“I had the honor of meeting Ms. Paisley backstage at her show.” I paused and looked at Arletta then. She gave a nervous smile to the smattering of applause.

At first, only a few claps rang through the crowd, but after a few seconds, the people sitting on hay bales and blankets stood, applauding and hollering. Arletta Paisley got a standing ovation. Far from the muddy face-plant I’d been picturing.