Turbulence-2-16

2004 Words
Kennedy brushed her teeth with the hospital’s cheap travel toothbrush and washed her face with their puny sliver of soap. It would probably be hours before Willow came back, if she returned tonight at all. Kennedy wasn’t about to wait up for her. She had just made her way to bed when someone fidgeted with the lock outside. A little buzzer sounded, and the door swung open slowly. “You asleep?” Willow’s whisper flitted through the air like a mosquito. “I’m here.” Kennedy rolled over with a grumpy complaint that she stifled when she saw the soiled tears dribbling down Willow’s face. “What’s the matter?” Willow shut the door behind her before letting out a suppressed sob. Kennedy got out of bed tentatively. “Is everything ok? Did something happen with Ray?” Willow shook her head and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “It’s not that.” She sat down on the front of the bed, and Kennedy lowered herself beside her, feeling awkward and wondering what she should do with her hands. “Are you upset about what happened on the flight?” she asked, recalling Dominic’s reminder that people deal with shock and trauma in various ways. “You’re gonna think this sounds so stupid.” Willow sniffed and tried to laugh at the same time. “It won’t be stupid,” Kennedy assured her. “You know what a mess I can turn into. I’m the last person to judge.” Willow sniffed again noisily. “You promise you won’t laugh?” Kennedy had never seen her roommate so vulnerable before. Like a little child hoping her mother wouldn’t yell. “I promise.” “Something happened on that flight,” Willow began, “and I’ve been trying to get it out of my head since I woke up in the hospital. But even over dinner with Ray, it was all I could think about. Out of everybody I know, I figure you’re the only one who might be able to explain it to me.” “What is it?” Kennedy tried to keep her voice natural. If she’d learned anything during her times out with Dominic, it was how to be a more engaged listener. Willow sighed and stared at her hands that fidgeted in her lap. “Ok, so I’m like most people I guess. I’ve always believed there was some sort of afterlife, heaven or whatever you want to call it. And like most people, I just assumed that if you do enough good with what life deals you, that’s where you go when you die or whatever.” Kennedy nodded, afraid that if she tried to speak now she’d scare Willow away from finishing her thoughts. “But then with the gun ... and the fire ...” Willow scratched at her arm as if all the painful memories were an itch she could brush off if she just scraped hard enough. “I started to think, maybe I really am going to die, and it scared the hell out of me. Literally. It probably sounds cliché to a church kid like you, but it scared me more than anything else. Thinking that maybe I hadn’t been good enough. Maybe I didn’t deserve to go to heaven. And how could I ever be sure? So I just thought that this flight might be a wake-up call for me, a chance for me to focus on the things that really matter so when my time does come, I’ll be ready. But then I was sitting with Ray, and I mean, we all knew how the night was supposed to end and whatever, and at first I thought that’d be a great way for me to get past my fear and start living again, enjoying life. You know, like I always do. Things were going great, we were having fun together, but I realized there was no way I could relax with him, no way I could enjoy myself with him until I talked some of this stuff out.” She let out a little laugh. “I’m sure it sounds crazy. I mean, how can anyone be positive about heaven or hell or anything, you know? I really believe there’s some sort of paradise waiting for people, but it’s pretty arrogant to assume that you could ever know for sure if you’ve earned it, right?” “It’s not arrogant,” Kennedy replied. Willow frowned. “Well, maybe not for a church girl like you, but for someone like me ...” “That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is you’re right. Nobody can do enough good with their life to earn a spot in heaven. That’s why we have to trust Jesus to make us worthy. And that’s how we can be certain where we’ll go when we die.” Willow raised one of her penciled eyebrows. “You really think there’s a way to know for sure?” “I do. I mean, think about Grandma Lucy on the flight.” “Who?” “The old woman I was talking to earlier. The one who stood between you and the general when he had his ...” She stopped herself. “Don’t you remember?” Willow scowled. “The whole flight is such a blur right now.” Kennedy ignored the uncertainty that had started to heat up her gut and nodded. “Ok, well never mind her then. What I’m saying is that if you trust that Jesus has forgiven your sins, you’re trusting that he’s the one who can make you worthy of heaven. So it’s not what you do, the good or bad or anything like that, it’s what he did when he died on the cross for you.” The corner of Willow’s mouth tilted up. “You should become a preacher. You sound so convincing.” Kennedy’s whole core was trembling. She hoped Willow didn’t notice. She knew that if she didn’t ask the next question, there was no guarantee she’d find another chance like this again. “What about you?” she began awkwardly and cleared her throat. “I mean, is that something you want to learn more about, how to have your sins forgiven and stuff?” Willow scrunched up her lustrous hair. “You’ve definitely gotten me curious, but there’s no rush or anything. I mean, we’ll have lots of time together at home to talk about whatever we feel like, right?” Kennedy nodded her head as a gentle peace swept over her like silk sheets on a cool spring evening. “Right.” CHAPTER 22“I’m so glad you talked me out of taking the bus back to Massachusetts,” Kennedy gushed. Dominic chuckled on the other line. “So you’ve enjoyed your time in Alaska so far?” “It’s insane. A lot of people out here don’t even have their own water source. Willow’s parents have to drive to the city well once or twice a week, fill up this huge tank, and dump the water into their storage room in the basement.” “And it doesn’t freeze in the winter?” he asked. “Just how cold is it there?” “When I woke up this morning, it was forty-eight below. Get this. Willow’s dad took a pot of hot coffee, threw it up in the air, and it formed ice crystals and then completely evaporated before it hits the ground.” “Sounds like a great way to spend Christmas Eve. I’m really happy for you.” Kennedy stared out the window of Willow’s room and watched the Winters’ youngest goat leaping from one giant rock to another in his pen. It was only a little after three in the afternoon, but the sun was already setting. “What about Willow? Have the two of you had any good discussions after everything that happened?” Kennedy paced back and forth, studying all the paintings Willow had made back in high school. “It’s been incredible. We’ve stayed up talking ’til one or two just about every night since I’ve been here. She says she’s still not ready to become a Christian yet, but she has some great questions. When we get home, she’s going to need a long talk with Pastor Carl or something, because most of them have me totally stumped.” “Oh yeah? Like what?” Kennedy stared at the quilt Willow’s grandma had sewn for her high school graduation. It was a winter scene with dazzling stars and the aurora borealis splashing bright greens and blues and yellows across the sky. “Ok, so for example last night she said one of the biggest reasons she hasn’t become a Christian yet is she’s afraid it would be intellectual suicide. She’s really fixating on the whole evolution thing.” Dominic made a thoughtful sound. “Tell her lots of Christians believe in evolution.” “I know that, but I want her to...” What was she supposed to say next? “You want her to believe the exact same way you do,” Dominic finished softly. “It’s ok. We all do that. It’s just important to remember that it’s Jesus who saves us, not theology.” “I know,” Kennedy hurried to reply. “Oh, that reminds me of another good question she had.” “What’s that?” “So she wanted to know if she has to stop smoking weed before she gets saved.” “And you told her ...?” “I had no idea what to tell her,” Kennedy confessed. “I mean, on the one hand, the Christian life’s all about making sacrifices, denying yourself, right? But God doesn’t expect us to be perfect in order to be saved or nobody would make their way into heaven at all.” “Sounds like you’ve got a lot to think about.” There was a smile in Dominic’s voice. “Really? You’re the one with the master’s in theology and that’s all you’ve got to say?” “We can talk about it more when you’re here. When do you fly back?” “The thirtieth.” Kennedy couldn’t understand how her vacation had already sped by so quickly. “Good. Because my cousin’s throwing a New Year’s Eve party, and I wanted to ask you to be my date.” “Your date?” Kennedy felt her face heat up. Why had she repeated the word like a mindless parrot? “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I heard about your flight on the news. I didn’t want to bring it up the last time we talked because you’re still so shaken up and everything, but thinking about you up there, knowing I was down here and couldn’t do anything to protect you, it made me realize I’d been wanting to do this for a long time. So, now that I’ve completely embarrassed myself, will you come with me to my cousin’s? It’s part of our church group, actually. A chance to worship and pray in the New Year, ask God what areas in our lives he wants us to focus on, a real encouraging time.” Kennedy could think of better venues for a first official date, but then again, maybe this was part of God’s plan for her all along. She could definitely tell her relationship with Christ was growing out here in Nowhere, Alaska. While Willow helped her mom with the barn chores, Kennedy usually hurried back inside as soon as her nose hairs froze. She’d been spending the extra time alone studying her Bible and praying. She couldn’t remember another period in her life when she’d been so excited about her faith, so eager to see the kind of things God was doing around her. Willow was a perfect example. The fact that they could talk for two or three hours a night about salvation and not have it turn into one giant rant about the evils of organized religion was reason enough to believe in Christmas miracles. Footsteps sounded on the stairs before Willow came in, her cheeks flushed with cold as she took off layer after layer of clothes and tossed them onto the bed. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said. “Tell lover boy merry Christmas and hang up.” “I heard that,” Dominic called out, and Kennedy turned her head so Willow wouldn’t see how deeply she blushed. “I gotta go,” she told him. “The Winters have been working on this Christmas Eve dinner all day.” “Well, have fun. And if I don’t get a chance to call you tomorrow, merry Christmas. I can’t wait to see what blessings God has in store for us this coming year.” Willow was still staring, and Kennedy was still blushing, but she couldn’t help it. “Yeah, me too,” she replied lamely. “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas, Kennedy.” Willow raised her eyebrow and smirked. From downstairs, Willow’s dad called out, “Time for dinner, girls. Hurry up, Kennedy. I can’t wait for you to try your first bite of Christmas moose.” CHAPTER 23Kennedy had never seen a Christmas spread like the one that night at the Winters’ table. Willow’s dad had made moose meatballs with mushroom and asparagus gravy and a separate dish of halibut in a creamy sauce served on buttery pasta. He had caught the halibut himself last summer, but the fate and demise of the moose were never mentioned at the table. The sides were as delicious as they were colorful: a green bean casserole with pine nuts, goat cheese, and stewed tomatoes; grilled cauliflower and Brussel sprouts; twice baked sweet potatoes whipped with cream and cinnamon; and a magnificent fruit salad with all kinds of produce Willow’s dad had grabbed from an Anchorage fruit co-op before he picked up the girls from the airport. “These are the best bread rolls I’ve ever eaten,” Kennedy declared, smothering another spoonful of rosehip and fireweed jelly onto a golden-topped bun. Mr. Winters sat up proudly in his chair. “Thanks. I mill the grains myself right before they bake.”
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