by Alana Terry
“I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”
Sandy waved her hand in the air and made a little pshaw sound. “Don’t mention it. Oh, I should have asked you earlier. Do you want me to find you a toothbrush?”
All Kennedy wanted to do now was sleep. “It’ll be all right for just the night.”
“You sure?” Sandy put her hand on her hip and eyed the empty plate. “That was a lot of sugar.”
“Yeah, I just don’t want you to worry about …”
Before Kennedy could complete her thought, Sandy was two steps down the hall. “No trouble at all, sweetie. Just stay there. It won’t take me more than a minute.”
Kennedy slumped down in her chair, figuring she could probably fall asleep right there if Sandy took too long. She always knew there was something special about the Lindgrens’ home. Every time they had her over for dinner, or when she had spent a long weekend here recovering from her injuries last fall, she had noticed its peaceful, welcoming feel. At the time, Kennedy thought it was just because she was so homesick, and the Lindgrens were the only people she knew before arriving at college. Now she wondered if there was something more to it, if Carl and Sandy’s generous and hospitable spirits just made the place seem inviting to everyone who came in. A house with spare toiletries just in case someone needed a place to stay.
Sandy padded down the hall, holding out a toothbrush and travel-size tube of toothpaste. “Here you go, sweetie. I told you it wouldn’t take long.”
CHAPTER 22
Sandy gave a good-night hug. Kennedy wouldn’t have been totally surprised if she had offered to tuck her in bed. Kennedy went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and heard Sandy padding down the hall in her fuzzy slippers. She felt like she was already sleepwalking by the time she made it to the Lindgrens’ back room. They kept the bed ready at all times, day or night, to welcome the tired and needy. Kennedy wondered how many others besides herself had found shelter here in this past year alone.
It was late. Kennedy shut her eyes. She didn’t even have the energy to change into Sandy’s nightgown. All she wanted was to sleep. To sleep and forget that tonight had ever happened. She would do things so differently if she had a chance to start her college career over again. So differently. She had flown to the States with so many plans. So many expectations of what her college experience would be like and what she’d get out of it. Her high-school self had fantasized about meeting a boy, falling in love. She had quickly discovered there simply wasn’t time for romance, not for a pre-med student like her. Reuben was the closest thing she had to a …
No, she didn’t want to think like that. He was such a good friend. So encouraging. So fun. His humor and easy ways made him the perfect juxtaposition to her uptight personality, which is why they got along so well in the lab. He was a great study partner. A great friend, really. And she didn’t want to ruin that by dwelling on …
She snuggled under the blankets but couldn’t lie on her right side. Her arm wasn’t throbbing anymore, but it still smarted when she adjusted her position, as if the skin was being stretched too far apart near the wounded area. If she could just get to sleep, her body would forget about the pain. She could spend hours in blissful delirium.
It was so quiet here compared to the Harvard dorm. No students stomping by. No voices in the hall. No music or shouting from the other rooms. Kennedy thought back over her first semester. Academically speaking, everything had gone pretty well. Everything except her chemistry final, at least. The only class she wasn’t totally sure about was calculus, but most of that was her TA’s fault, since he expected her to show her work a different way than she had learned in high school.
Harvard hadn’t been exactly what she expected. She figured a school like that would have a large Christian group, but she only went to one worship gathering early in September. The songs were all unfamiliar, and none of the students introduced themselves to her. She hadn’t gotten very well plugged in to Carl’s church, either, but part of that was her own fault. Sundays were just so busy with study groups and lab write-ups and catching up for her literature classes. That didn’t mean she wasn’t making time for God, though, did it?
Was that why she was still having a hard time getting over everything? Was it because she hadn’t been as faithful going to church as she should? St. Margaret’s was just so different from what she was used to back at her parents’ home. Each time she got back to campus after going to Carl’s church, she had to sit and read for an hour or two just to unwind. It was like sensory overload, with the loud music and the dancing video screen. And so many people. How could anyone even get to know anybody at a church that size?
Still, a command is a command. Maybe that’s why she was still struggling so much. She had gotten really consistent with her prayer and Bible study, which made her wonder why God still hadn’t taken her problems away. Was God waiting to heal her — to help her truly forget the trauma of last fall — until she made church attendance a higher priority?
Well, if that’s what it took, she’d be there every week without fail. She just wanted to move on.
Her arm ached. She didn’t know if the horse pill from the ER was wearing off, or if her conversation with Sandy had been enough of a distraction to keep her from the discomfort. She should be thankful. It was a minor wound as far as bullet injuries go. That didn’t take away the burning though, the smarting that throbbed and radiated throughout her whole upper body. Pain seeped through her veins all the way to her spine. No matter which way she turned in bed, she couldn’t ease the sting.
Tylenol, maybe? The nurse told her she could take some over the next few days for the pain, but Kennedy hadn’t thought to ask how soon she could take one after swallowing that monstrous tablet in the ER. She had assumed she would get to the Lindgrens’ and sleep straight through the night. Well, the nurse hadn’t advised her against taking something.
She sat and rubbed her eyes to clear her fuzzy vision. She was dizzy. Why couldn’t her body just relax? She hated to think of bothering the Lindgrens, but she needed something to help her sleep. Maybe they kept something in the medicine cabinet. Her legs were heavy as she walked to the bathroom. It felt as if the night would never end. She was thankful for the food and warm tea in her belly, but she would have preferred it if her dad hadn’t called her back at her dorm in the first place, if Gino had never found out where she was, if none of this had happened at all.
She imagined telling Reuben about it over pizza and Coke in the student union. It would be old news by the time she saw him again. Maybe she’d even relate the whole story without shaking.
She rummaged quietly in the bathroom cupboards, wishing for a robe or extra blanket to ward off the winter chill that hung all around her like condensation on a lab flask. No medicine there. The kitchen, maybe? She sneaked down the hall, unwilling to bother Carl and Sandy, and looked at the microwave clock. Not quite three in the morning. What was she doing awake? Even her busiest nights studying for a test or finishing off a research paper on campus almost always saw her in bed by this time. Exhaustion clouded around her head like a thick New England fog, but she was also jumpy, as if she had gone to bed after drinking a full cup of coffee. Was it something in the medicine from the ER? The stress of the night? The danger that lurked in the dark corners of the Lindgrens’ house?
She pulled back the blinds of the kitchen window. The police car was still parked out front. She couldn’t see the men inside, but took comfort knowing they were there. Nothing could hurt her now. Nothing could get her here.
“Stop right where you are, or I’ll shoot.”
The words chilled Kennedy’s blood. The back of her neck tingled as she turned slowly around.
“Kennedy?”
The surprised look on her pastor’s face might have made Kennedy laugh if he hadn’t been pointing a gun at her. He quickly lowered the weapon.
“I’m sorry,” he was stammering.
“It’s all right.”
“No.” He held up his hand. “No, I just got so nervous with those cops out front, and then, well …”
Kennedy just wanted to get his mind off his own embarrassment. After all, she was the one who had brought all this trouble to his doorstep and into his house. “It’s ok. What do you have a gun for, anyway?”
He shifted his weight. “That? Oh, well, it’s a long story, actually. It looks more like …”
The door leading to the garage burst open, and two policemen barged in, weapons raised. Kennedy instinctively raised her hands above her head. Carl let his gun clatter to the floor and did the same.
“Everything’s ok, officers.” Carl’s face was nearly the shade of his Honda in the light from one of the men’s flashlights.
“It was just a mistake,” Kennedy hastened to explain. “I came out to look for some Tylenol, and, um, I think I startled everyone. I’m sorry.”
The men looked tense but lowered their weapons.
“You got a permit for that?” the older one asked Carl.
He let out a little chuckle. “Actually, I was just going to tell Kennedy …”
“Carl? Is that you?” Sandy came bustling in, tying her bathrobe sash around her waist. Her brown hair was in a long French braid that wound around and fell over one shoulder. “Is everything all right out here?” She stopped when she saw the officers standing near the door.
“Looks like everything’s just fine, ma’am.”
“Well, thank you for being diligent.” Sandy gave a nod that was far more dignified than Kennedy could have offered if she had been the one in fluffy pink slippers.
The older policeman nudged his partner. “Well, if that’s all …” He let his voice trail off and tipped the brim of his hat.
“Oh, nonsense.” Sandy bustled into the kitchen, threw on the lights, and opened the fridge. “Since you’re already inside, you better grab a few cinnamon rolls. It’ll only take a minute or two to heat them up.”
The men looked at each other.
“You’ve had a long night,” Sandy reminded them.
“You go wait back outside. I’ll be out in a few,” the older one said.
“I’ll send extra rolls out with him when they’re ready.” The young man had already shut the door to the garage behind him when Sandy shouted, “Do you want some coffee, too? I have cream and sugar.”
The middle-aged officer hooked his fingers in his belt loop and leaned forward on his toes. “Well, since I’m here, mind if I have a look around?”
“Go right ahead,” Sandy answered with her face in the fridge. “The bathroom’s down the hall and to the right.”
Carl positioned himself in the policeman’s way. “Now, wait a minute. Using the pot’s one thing, and you’re welcome to it. But searching the house, you guys need a warrant for something like that, don’t you?”
Sandy stood up. “He’s just trying to help us out.”
“I know that.” Carl gave a nod of respect. “And I’m mighty thankful for that, but it’s the principle of the thing, see? Today, we let you come in and walk around for our own safety. Tomorrow …”
“Tomorrow what?” Sandy interrupted, wiping her hands on the sides of her robe. “Tomorrow they come back to see more pictures of the grandkids?” She nodded at the officer. “Feel free to snoop around as much as you’d like. Makes me feel safer knowing you guys are looking out for us at times like these.”
The officer shot a quick glance over to Carl, who nodded his acquiescence. Somehow, just being in the same room as the policemen sent Kennedy’s insides quivering like the little bowls of Jell-O that Reuben loved so much.
He sauntered down the hall.
Sandy pecked her husband’s cheek. “Sorry, hon, but you know sometimes you just gotta accept the help when it’s there.”
That was the last either of them said of their disagreement. As the policeman sauntered down the hall, Sandy opened her arms to give Kennedy a big hug. “Sorry if all the fuss woke you up. You must still be exhausted.”
“Actually, I think I caused it. I came out here to see if there you had any Tylenol or something …”
Sandy pouted. “Of course, sweetie. I should have thought of that myself. And are you still hungry? We’ve got cinnamon rolls and more cookies, too.” She frowned. “Or can I fix you some real food. Not junk.”
Kennedy didn’t want to be rude. Right now, she wanted to swallow a few pills that would take the edge off her pain and then go to sleep for the next twenty-four hours.
Sandy opened the fridge again and leaned down. She reached back and pulled out a Tupperware. “Carl forgot his lunch the other day. It’s chicken soup.” She propped the lid open and took a sniff. “Oh, yeah. That’s still good. Want me to heat you up a bowl?”
“I’m fine, really. I just wanted a Tylenol if you have any.”
“Why, sure. Carl, you go get that pill bottle. It’s in my bathroom cupboard, hon.”
A few minutes later, the older policeman left with leftover soup, a whole plateful of cinnamon rolls, and cookies to share with his partner outside. Sandy took the pills from Carl, handed them to Kennedy, and was trying to convince her to sit down for a full meal when the lights flicked off.
“That wind.” Sandy reached for Kennedy’s hand. “You sit tight. We’ve got flashlights in the drawer over here. Hold on just a sec.”
Kennedy listened to the sounds of Sandy’s rummaging and the wind howling outside. She was thankful she wasn’t out on the streets and wondered how many children like the Lindgrens’ daughter Blessing were stuck outside on a night like this.
Sandy flicked on a flashlight. “Here we go.” She brought another one and set it in front of Kennedy. “Well, I guess maybe this is God’s way of telling us it’s time for bed. What do you think?”
“That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” Carl inserted.
The Lindgrens hugged Kennedy her good-night, and she dragged herself down the hall to use the bathroom one last time before bed. Why did this have to happen so close to Christmas? She wondered if Reuben was asleep now and thought about him spending Christmas break alone in his dorm. Maybe she should call him tomorrow. Had she brought her phone charger?
After washing her hands and face one last time, Kennedy made her way back to the guest room. As she passed the Lindgrens’ bedroom, her neck tingled at the sound of her name. She slowed down and strained her ears.
“… through so much.”
She couldn’t hear all of Carl’s response, but she made out the words police and detective.
“I don’t think it’ll go that far. They were so close to that Gino guy tonight. They’ll find him.”
Carl cleared his throat. “Well, if he’s still at large, she’s not flying to her aunt’s tomorrow.”
“I know,” Sandy answered back. “She’ll be disappointed spending Christmas away from family.”
“She’ll stay here.”
“Of course she will, but it won’t be the same. From her perspective, I mean.”
Kennedy turned to head back to her room. She had to get some sleep.
“ … gotta think about witness protection,” Carl added.
Kennedy stopped.
“Don’t you think it’s a little early for that?”
Her pulse sped up like a rocket blasting off into space.
“… up to the detectives, obviously, but if tonight’s any indication, these guys aren’t going to stop until they’ve silenced her. Permanently.”
Kennedy’s mind was screaming at her to run back to bed before someone caught her eavesdropping, but she was paralyzed, as if Gino were in the house with her, studying her every move. A cat stalking a helpless mouse before it makes its fatal pounce.
For a single, impulsive moment, she imagined throwing open the door to Carl and Sandy’s room and flinging herself under the blankets like she had done in her parents’ bed in New York after waking up from a nightmare.
Only Sandy and Carl weren’t her parents.
And thi
s was no nightmare.
She had to turn around, but she was afraid. Was it Carl’s comment about witness protection that got her so spooked?
The police were right outside, she reminded herself. Nothing could happen.
Her stomach twisted in her gut. What if Gino got to the policemen first? What if they were already slouched over in their cars, their leftover soup spilled on their laps, their throats slit like in some gruesome horror flick?
No, this wasn’t a movie. This wasn’t anything like that. The police were here. Their job was to protect her, and she just had to get back to bed. The Tylenol would kick in soon. Everything would look different in the morning. Sleep and daylight were cures for so many fears and anxieties. She held her breath and turned around. Slowly. As if she’d be invisible to any intruder as long as she didn’t make any sudden movements.
The hall was still and lifeless. The dozens of pictures lining the Lindgrens’ wall stared at her. She could be back to her room in twenty steps or less. Why was she acting so silly? She was an adult now. She didn’t have to live her life in this sort of fear. She was a Christian. She had victory over fear. Over trauma. Over terror.
She put one bare foot in front of the other, feeling guilty and sheepish now for eavesdropping at the Lindgrens’ door. Was she a ten-year-old again?
One day, she’d tell Reuben all about it, and they’d laugh. He could tease her about it if he wanted, but instead he’d say something nice and comforting, something to soothe over Kennedy’s embarrassment.
She opened the door to the guest room. Never had a bed looked more inviting. Her arm was already starting to feel better. A placebo, maybe? She didn’t think Tylenol worked that quickly. It didn’t matter. All she needed now was sleep.
She shut the door behind gently behind her but couldn’t relax. Outside, the wind howled. A tree branch scratched the window. Had the police noticed that when they did their rounds? Did they realize how easily someone could climb the tree, enter through the window and …