by Alana Terry
She tried not to think about Noah and his family, but that proved impossible. Where was he now? Nick said the lawyer would push for a reasonable bail, but they wouldn’t have any of those details until his arraignment in the morning. It was probably a good thing her phone was still at the Lindgrens’ house, or she would have wasted hours by now on all the news outlets, trying to gauge how messy of a scandal the murders had caused.
She thought about Vivian, bereaved of her husband, probably spending the whole night worrying about her son. And Jodie. Such a shy little thing. Would this family drama force her to retreat even farther into herself?
Kennedy knew she should pray but lacked the spiritual stamina to do so. As a little girl, she’d once gone to a Christian summer camp where the speaker shared a story about what happened when he told his atheist friend, “I’ll be praying for you.”
“Why?” the atheist wanted to know.
“Because it’s so easy,” had been the speaker’s glib response. And for a decade or more, Kennedy had lived under the assumption that prayer was supposed to be simple, that if you could spend hours daydreaming about Shakespeare or your best friend whom you might never see again, you could just as easily spend that idle time in communion with the Father. Pray without ceasing. Isn’t that what the Bible said? And for years, she figured there must be something wrong with her. Since prayer was supposed to be so easy, she was even more pathetic as a Christian for not being able to do it right or do it well.
Well, since then she’d learned how wrong that camp speaker really was. Anyone who said praying was easy didn’t understand the mental energy it took to stay focused and faithful in spite of all of life’s distractions. In spite of the heaviness that could storm around your brain like a tempest.
No, prayer wasn’t easy. Neither was running a marathon. But that didn’t mean either was impossible. It just meant you had to start slow. Baby steps. Disciplined training. Kennedy couldn’t go outside tonight and run ten miles straight. But she could manage a mile. Maybe a little more. And if she did that every single day, after a week or two she could run two miles. Then three. The fact that she couldn’t spend a whole night in prayer didn’t mean that she should get discouraged and never pray at all. A couple minutes here, a few minutes there, and eventually her mind would achieve the degree of focus she needed for more prolonged spurts of time. She just had to be content to start with small bursts of progress.
She shut her eyes. Dear Father ...
“I was wondering where you ran off to.”
Nick. He had a Bible in one hand and a mug in the other.
“I just made myself some tea. I’m sorry. If I had known you were up here, I would have brought extra.”
“It’s ok.”
He sat down next to her. “How are you?”
She stared off to the part of the sky where the sun had recently set. All that remained was a faint blue afterglow that lit up some low-lying clouds. “All right, I guess.”
“Pretty intense day, wasn’t it?” Nick asked.
“Yeah.”
He glanced at the Tolkien book. “I’m sorry. If you want to be left alone ...”
“No, it’s all right. I can’t focus on reading now anyway.”
“I know what you mean.” He shook his head. “Such a tragedy.”
Kennedy couldn’t have agreed more.
“But I guess we can be thankful for the good that’s come from it.”
She looked over at him. “What kind of good?”
“Well, Carl and his foster son wanting to get together, for one thing. And Noah knowing his dad still accepted him before he died.”
“I guess so.” She sighed. “I feel worse for Noah right now. I mean, you can’t excuse what he did, but if he thought his counselor had betrayed him like that ...”
Nick set down his mug. “It’s pretty horrible. I never liked that whole ex-gay ministry movement in the first place, but still, I would never have wished something like this on Marcos. Or anyone else for that matter. I might not believe in his tactics, but I know he was trying to do good for those boys he was counseling.”
Kennedy was quiet for a moment. She recalled the beautiful girl in the green sundress photographed downstairs. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Mm-hmm.” Nick was staring at the same cloud streak so far off in the distance.
“What happened to your sister?”
His face was close to hers. His expression so raw, still so distant. “She died. Committed suicide the year after I graduated college.”
Kennedy didn’t know what to say.
He stared at his clasped hands. “She’d been going to see a counselor, someone like Marcos, someone who was trying to cure her of her homosexuality.”
Kennedy shut her eyes and could only see Lessa’s bright, dimpled smile from Nick’s picture.
“I tried to tell her to stop. She’d already gotten so much guilt from our mom over being a girl. Now she was going to this counselor getting even more guilt for being a lesbian. I’d done a lot of research by then. Made up my mind that being gay and being a Christian weren’t mutually exclusive like so many churches teach. But as much as she hated Mom’s structures and rules, she still had it in her head that was the ideal she was supposed to achieve. In the end, it’s what killed her.”
Kennedy regretted asking. It wasn’t worth making Nick rehash such horrible memories. Not tonight of all nights. “I’m sorry.”
He reached out and rubbed her back. His touch felt strange. Foreign. A certain shyness invaded the space between them. He took his hand away again.
Neither one spoke. Kennedy was too busy reliving pivotal moments of the day. Her talk with Sandy about Guy and his partner denying any sort of relationship with the Lindgrens unless they changed their views. Nick’s sister dying because she felt so much guilt over her sexuality. Carl and Nick who would never see eye to eye on the issue but refused to let that drive a wedge of bitterness between them.
A breeze picked up. Kennedy hugged her arms against her chest.
“Getting a little chilly, isn’t it?” Something about Nick’s expression made her feel nervous. Flustered.
“Yeah.”
More silence.
“So, anyway ...”
She didn’t turn to look at him. Could only guess what he was about to say.
“You remember earlier in my kitchen? I was going to ask you something?”
She nodded, certain she wasn’t ready for any of this. Not tonight. Not when she was so tired and confused and still hopelessly jetlagged.
“Well, what I wanted to know is if you’d be free Monday afternoons to help me run the Good News Club at Medford Academy.”
“Oh.” She’d been expecting something much different.
“You wouldn’t have to worry about prep work or anything like that. I just need someone to be there, help take attendance, keep the kids on task. Just two hours a week is all I’m asking.”
“Monday afternoons, you said?”
He nodded, his eyes brimming over with eagerness. “I could even pick you up.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve got organic chemistry lab that afternoon.”
His whole being deflated.
“Otherwise I would have loved to.” She hoped she wasn’t being dishonest.
“Ok, then.” He stared off at the clouds again. “Maybe next semester or something.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
He stood up. “I think I’m gonna go back down now. It’s getting late.”
“All right. I’ll be there pretty soon.” She hoped he wasn’t disappointed. Why did she feel like she was always letting him down?
“Good night.” His footsteps were clunky as he walked away in his slightly oversized sandals. Kennedy sat in the dim artificial light, listening to the slight sounds of traffic, heavy from the darkness and silence that surrounded her.
CHAPTER 34
There were only four people in the Lindgrens’ temporary home, but Sandy was bustling
around so much it seemed as if there were half a dozen extra bodies. Kennedy glanced at the motel room, which she’d helped Woong tidy, spray, dust, and vacuum that afternoon.
“How much time do we have left?” Sandy opened the oven, leaned forward, and thumped on her bread rolls.
“It’s ten to six. Exactly three minutes since you asked the last time.” Carl was straightening his tie, glancing at his reflection in the small hanging mirror.
“I want a X-box.” Woong seemed to know his parents were busy and didn’t put too much emphasis into his demand.
“Should I call them?” Sandy asked. “They might need directions.”
“He’s got a GPS, and he has our phone number,” Carl answered back. “Everything’s going to be fine. You need to stop worrying.” He leaned closer toward the mirror and tried picking a nose hair with his fingers.
Kennedy finished chopping the vegetables for the salad and set the wooden bowl on the table. The motel room came with a few random utensils, but Sandy had insisted on transplanting her entire kitchen to get ready for tonight’s big dinner. There was no way to cram everything into the cupboards, so pots and spatulas and even blenders and crockpots piled out of boxes strewn against the far wall.
“I just can’t believe it’s been ten years. I wonder if ...” A knock on the door made Sandy freeze. “Should I get that?” she asked. “Maybe Carl should get it. Maybe that would be more appropriate. Carl, you gonna get that, honey?” She wiped her hands on her apron, another item she had snatched from her home while the builders worked on repairing the fire damage.
“Well, look who’s here!” Carl’s booming voice held no hint of the general state of nerves and anxiety that had zipped around the Lindgrens’ home all afternoon.
Kennedy and Woong held back as Carl welcomed in the young man. “It’s good to see you, Guy.” He shook his hand warmly. “And who’s this?” He leaned down toward a young boy who held onto Guy’s leg.
“This is Alec.” Guy pried his son’s arms free. “Say hello to Grandpa Carl.”
Alec muttered something and sneaked right back behind his dad.
Sandy rushed forward with her arms outstretched. “Hello, Guy. Hello, Alec. We’re so glad you came. Where’s Felipe?” She strained her neck to look behind them.
“He couldn’t make it.” Guy cleared his throat, and there was an awkward silence before he squatted down. “And you must be Woong. Your mom’s told me a lot about you already.” He glanced at Carl and Sandy. “You say he understands English pretty well by now?”
Woong made an annoyed face and plopped down in front of some Legos.
“Why don’t you go join him?” Guy tried to push Alec forward, but Alec refused to budge.
“Well, don’t just stand here in the entryway. Come in.” Sandy swept her arms grandly like a queen displaying her entire kingdom. “It’s not much, but it’ll work out fine for a week or two. Now, sit down. Dinner’s already on the table, so I don’t see any reason why we don’t jump right in. Carl will pour the drinks, and you can tell us all about your design work. I hear you’ve been quite successful.”
Guy had a handsome smile and looked quite a bit younger than Kennedy expected. Alec shied up next to his father at the table, and Guy kept a protective arm around him.
“You’re sure a quiet one, aren’t you?” Sandy asked as she filled Alec’s cup with milk.
Guy nudged his son twice before Alec responded with the expected, “Thank you.”
Sandy had to pick Woong up and set him in his chair to get him to leave his Legos, but at least he didn’t throw a fit.
“Now, let’s see.” She stared at the table. “Everything’s out except the rolls, and they just need another minute or two in the oven. I think we’re ready to pray and bless the meal.” She turned to her husband.
“Sounds like a good plan.” Carl adjusted the collar of his dress shirt. Kennedy wasn’t used to seeing him in a tie outside of church on Sundays. He bowed his head. “Let’s pray, then.”
Alec leaned over and whispered something in his dad’s ear.
“Everything ok?” Carl asked.
Guy cleared his throat. Kennedy couldn’t tell if it was the lighting in the dining room or if he was blushing. “We’ll talk about that on the way home, all right, bud?”
Sandy leaned forward. “What’s he need? Does he drink milk? I should have asked first. We have orange juice too if that’s better.”
Guy shook his head. “It’s not that.” He looked toward Carl. “Go ahead. Everything smells delicious.”
Carl bowed his head once more. “Lord, great God and heavenly Father ...”
Another whispered interruption from Alec’s end of the table. This time it was clear that Guy really was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. He ...” He glanced at his son. “I should have done a better job explaining it before we got here. I just ...” He sighed. “I forget sometimes how much they pick up, you know? Things you don’t think they’ve caught onto yet.”
He held his arm around his son’s shoulder. “Alec was just asking me if you were the ones who got mad at me for marrying his papa. I’m sorry. Like I said, we should have talked about it on the way here ...”
Carl got out of his chair and knelt down beside Alec. “Listen, buddy, that’s a really good question, and you know what it shows me? It shows me you’re a really smart kid. So I’m gonna give you an honest answer, ok? Your daddy and I had some disagreements. And that’s not always a bad thing, you know. Even grown-ups disagree. And we get hurt feelings, too, and sometimes those feelings hurt bad enough it takes a while before it can get better.”
Alec stared at Carl with wide eyes and leaned closer to his dad.
“The important thing to remember is we love your dad very much. We love you, too. And your papa. And sometimes we might not agree, but that doesn’t mean we’re mad at each other. It certainly doesn’t mean we stop loving each other. Does that make sense?”
Alec nodded. Carl stood back up with a groan and returned to his seat.
“Now where were we? Oh, yeah. I think we were about to pray.” He bowed his head. “Great God and heavenly Father, we praise you for family. We praise you for love. We praise you for the way you can take people from so many different backgrounds, so many different stories, and you can weave our lives together so intricately. So beautifully.
“Sometimes it hurts, Lord. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Sometimes it hurts real bad when we can’t see eye to eye. But Lord, first and foremost, you’re a God of love. And today we declare that if your love is strong enough you carried that cross up the hill to Golgotha, if your love is strong enough you died for us while we were still your enemies, if your love is strong enough you reached out to us in our filth and sin and squalor, well, Lord, we’ve just got to believe your love is strong enough to help us see past our differences. Help us see past our debates.
“Only you can do that, Lord. Only you can cover over these divisions that have plagued us for so long. Only you can heal the hurts that have been experienced on all sides. Only you can let your perfect truth be proclaimed with perfect grace. You alone are God, and we love you, and we praise you, and we lift this up in the powerful and precious name of Jesus Christ.”
The amen that sounded around the table mingled with the inviting smells of bread rolls, fresh fruit, and savory soup. It settled somewhere around Kennedy’s shoulders, wrapping her up in a blanket of love and warmth before floating upward toward heaven, a perfect offering and fragrant aroma she was certain was pleasing and acceptable in God’s sight.
***
From Alana Terry
If you’re thinking that Kennedy needs a break right about now, you’re right! Which is why she’s so excited to be spending her upcoming Christmas break in Alaska...
If her flight ever makes it there, that is.
But the way things are going, it’s not looking too good for her ... or any of the other passengers on board.
As the danger in the air intensifies, the q
uestion isn’t whether she’ll come out of her journey stronger in the end.
It’s whether she’ll come out of it at all.
Dive straight into Turbulence, book 5 in the most binge-worthy Christian suspense series. Available today.
Buy Turbulence now. (Just be prepared to stay up late.)