CHAPTER 7
2082 Words
CHAPTER 7
Sandy made a list of paints for Carl to pick up from the store. Kennedy found a broom to sweep up the glass, but Carl didn’t want her by the broken windows. “If you want to help, we still need to get these postcards ready to mail out. They’re the invitations for the dinner on Thursday.” He showed her how the post office needed them grouped by zip code, and Kennedy set to work, grateful for something constructive to put her hands to. She would be late meeting Reuben at the library, but she wasn’t about to leave Carl and Sandy right now.
“Is everyone all right back here?” The voice was too good-humored, and Kennedy looked up to see the politician who had prayed at the service that morning.
“Wayne!” Sandy rushed to him with a hug. Carl stretched out his hand.
“I came as soon as I heard the report on the Christian radio.” Wayne shook his head. “It’s just horrible what they’ve done.”
“Nothing a little paint and some new glass won’t fix.” Carl’s voice was still tight.
“How in the world did you get through the picket lines?” Sandy asked.
“Well, I think I made a record. I was only asked for three autographs.” Wayne flashed another dizzying grin.
“Autographs?” Carl asked. He leaned out of the office and let out a low whistle. “Well, what do you make of that? You had it easy, brother. Those weren’t the picketers we had to walk through. It was all pro-choicers when we came.”
“They’re on the other side of the sidewalk now,” Wayne told them. He locked eyes with Sandy. “You really should go take a look.”
Kennedy followed Carl and Sandy into the waiting room. The police tape was gone. Half a dozen police lined either side of the road. All the protestors from earlier were on the opposite sidewalk, but those closest to the broken window had pickets with statistics about fetal development, Bible verses about God knitting children together in the womb, and slogans about protecting babies.
“That’s quite a different view than when we arrived earlier,” Carl admitted.
“I’ll say.” Wayne flashed a grin.
“You and your campaign didn’t have anything to do with this new turn of events, did they?” Sandy asked with a smile in her voice.
Wayne flashed his white-toothed grin. “I don’t speak for my managers. All I know is these picketers were here when I pulled up.”
“Uh-huh.” Sandy’s voice was playful, and she smiled for the first time that afternoon.
Wayne smoothed out his hair and straightened his necktie. “Anyway, we’re making a statement from here for the press in about half an hour.”
“From here?” Sandy repeated. “They can’t bring the cameras into this mess.” Her eyes fluttered nervously to the walls.
Wayne frowned at the graffiti. “I guess we can do it up front by the window. I told my manager we should work in a little announcement about the fundraising dinner Thursday. Couldn’t hurt to get you guys some more publicity.”
“Unless the picketers scare off all the donors,” Sandy mumbled under her breath, but Kennedy doubted the others heard.
“Well, then.” Wayne clasped his hands together. “That’s settled. What do we do while we wait for the cameramen?”
Carl caught Kennedy’s eye and gave her a wink. “How would the soon-to-be governor of Massachusetts feel about stamping postcards?”
The mood in the center lifted minute by minute as they set to work. Once Kennedy finished the pile she was sorting, she figured it was time to head back to campus. If she got lucky and caught the T as it was pulling up, she might find Reuben still in the library. Before she could slip out, Wayne’s phone rang.
He slipped his hand smoothly into his pocket. “I bet that’s about the statement.” The conversation was short. “They’re ready for me out front.” Wayne was beaming, and Kennedy wondered if Carl and Sandy noticed how fake he looked. Maybe it was a politician thing. Or maybe all the support and publicity he brought to their center helped them overlook his apparent insincerity. Whatever it was, Kennedy was glad for an excuse to leave before she had to watch him preen in front of a dozen cameras.
“I need to go, too.” she announced. Sandy cast a worried glance to her husband.
“Maybe you better wait,” Carl said. “After Wayne’s speech, I’ll drive you back myself. Your father would kill me if I let you walk out of here with hundreds of angry protestors looking on.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Kennedy insisted, but she looked at the Lindgrens’ expressions and didn’t want to burden them further. “I’m supposed to meet my friend,” she explained, “but I guess a few more minutes won’t kill anyone.”
“Do you want to use the phone to let her know you’re late?” Sandy asked.
“I don’t have his number with me. It’s in my phone, and that’s somewhere in my dorm room.”
“His?” Carl asked but stopped smirking when his wife nudged him in the ribs.
“Carl will drive you back as soon as Wayne’s done posing for the cameras.” Sandy gave Kennedy a gentle back rub. “And don’t worry — he won’t take more than a few minutes I’m sure. The last thing he wants to do is bore his audience.”
Carl chuckled under his breath. Sandy was right. The speech was over in less than five minutes. Kennedy had expected the Lindgrens to both stop their work to listen, but they seemed content to keep on sorting postcards side by side.
“Did you wow them?” Sandy asked when Wayne pranced back into the center to a loud roar of both applause and angry shouts. He looked even taller than he had before he left.
“All I have to say is I hope something I said got through to the fools who vandalized your center.” He shook his head, replacing his smile for an instant pout that became him just as well.
Sandy patted his shoulder. “Well, you keep focused on winning your election and don’t worry about us. We’ve seen worse, you know.”
Kennedy wasn’t sure if she had seen worse or not and was sad to think that Carl and Sandy had.
“You heading out now?” Carl asked when Wayne started to button up his coat.
“Sure am. I wish I could stay to help more, but ...” He stumbled over his words for the first time, but neither of the Lindgrens seemed to notice.
Sandy put down her pile of invites and gave him a hug. “It’s always good to see you. Thanks for taking time out of your campaign to check on us commoners.” Everyone chuckled, and Kennedy was left guessing if Sandy meant to be sarcastic or not.
“Well, if you’re heading out ...” Carl inserted, and Kennedy wished she could stop him with telepathy. “Would you mind taking Kennedy here back to her dorm at Harvard?”
“Harvard, huh?” Wayne’s face brightened, and he spared Kennedy his first glance since showing up. “Sure thing. My car’s out back.”
Kennedy glanced at the Lindgrens, who were only a quarter of the way through the postcards they had to sort. Maybe it was just as well they both stayed here. Besides, she hadn’t thought about it before, but now that Carl was marked as the director of the center, it might still be dangerous for him to walk out right now. Wayne was way too-high profile for someone to seriously bother. She said good-bye to Carl and Sandy and followed him out the center. The sound of the protestors increased, but Wayne put his arm around her, and whispered before she could shrug him off, “Don’t listen to anything they say. Their words can’t hurt you. All right?”
Kennedy nodded and tried to recreate the calm she had felt when Carl prayed in the center. Many of the pro-lifers extended their hands to Wayne, and others offered encouraging words about the election next week. He kept his arm around her like a shield as a photographer flashed a light at them and a reporter shoved a microphone in his face.
“Mr. Abernathy, is this one of the young women you would deny contraceptives and access to safe abortions?”
Wayne didn’t slow down his pace but waved the microphone away.
They got to his car, which he circled once and studied with a frown. Looking for dents? Then he turned on his shiny smile and opened the passenger door. “After you,” he stated regally.
The upholstery had that sort of new lacquer smell, and when Kennedy sat down, she found it hard to get comfortable because her pants kept sticking to the seat. Even the seatbelt buckle glistened. Kennedy wondered how many semesters at Harvard Wayne’s car would pay for.
“You ready?” he asked when he got into the driver’s seat.
Kennedy smiled in response, and he rolled out of the lot. They hadn’t passed the outlying protestors when his phone rang. “Hey. I’m on the road. What’s up?”
Kennedy let out her breath when they finally turned off Elm Street. She wondered how all the other shop and business owners felt about having their sidewalks turned into an ideological war zone.
“Good news?” Wayne was apparently one of those people who shouted into their cell phones as if that was the only way to be heard. “Those were my friends whose office was attacked ... Well, it’s your job to worry about publicity, not mine. I’m just glad nobody got hurt.”
He shook his head as he hung up. “My campaign manager,” he explained with a sigh. “Acts as though this protest is Christmas Day for the campaign. Sympathy votes and all.” He gave Kennedy a smile, a real one this time, the corners of his eyes wrinkling up attractively. “So, what are you studying at Harvard? I just hope it’s not politics.”
“Biology.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? Pre-med?”
“Sort of. I’m part of their early-admissions medical school program.”
“Good for you.” Kennedy was relieved to note Wayne could actually sound sincere if he wanted to. “You must have worked hard to get accepted right out of high school.”
Kennedy didn’t feel like talking about herself, so she asked, “What about you? When did you get involved with pro-life stuff?”
Wayne chuckled. “That would be a better question if I were driving you all the way to DC. The short version is I did picketing, things like that from Roe v. Wade on. I was part of the first wave of the anti-abortion movement, but I got frustrated. We got a little bit of publicity, made a lot of people angry, and preached to thousands of choirs. That was it. Don’t quote me on this, but it was actually a staunch pro-abortion advocate who helped me see the light. You ever heard of Sandra Green?”
Kennedy shook her head.
Wayne shrugged. “Yeah, she hasn’t been around in a while, at least not making news like years past. She used to be a real big voice for the abortion camp. But she was talking about a new bill we were hoping to push through the State House. I was just wetting my feet in politics at the time, you know. But she said something I’ll never forget. Knocked me right off my high horse. Said that the reason nobody wants to jump on the pro-life bandwagon is because it’s a bunch of stuffy old white men who have never lifted a finger to help single moms. And it was true. At least for me at the time. And a lot of my acquaintances. What was the point of stopping abortions if I wasn’t going to help support new mothers? That’s how I got my initiation into the pregnancy center ministry. Made it my mission to give women a foundation, maybe alleviate some of the perceived need for abortions in the first place.”
Kennedy didn’t know how to respond. She had never looked at abortion in those terms before. In her family, it was simply wrong, morally and ethically, and that was all.
“You from a Christian family?” Wayne asked after a minute. He had a disarming way of taking his eyes off the road to look at her when he talked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, you just stick to your values. Especially on a campus like Harvard. It’s not easy. Even more so now than when I was your age. But you keep following what your mom and dad taught you, and you’re going to be fine.” That plastic smile flashed again, and they spent the last few minutes traveling in silence. Kennedy got the impression Wayne wouldn’t remember her face in a week, but she was thankful for the ride. He pulled his car into the main campus entrance. “Is this close enough?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “This is just fine.”
“Well, God bless you.” He raised his hand in a wave, and for a minute she expected him to hand her a pen or a campaign button or something. As his car eased back into traffic, Kennedy wondered if Reuben would still be in the library. Her dorm was on the way, so she figured she’d grab her books and her cell phone. She needed something quick to eat, too. Her stomach had been churning and grumbling ever since St. Margaret’s.
She felt light as she bounded up the stairs to her dorm, grateful her lab would give her an excuse to shove all thoughts of the pregnancy center and Rose out of her mind. The door to her room was halfway open, and Willow crossed her arms as soon as Kennedy entered.
“Your boyfriend’s been looking for you.”
- Writer
