Kennedy Stern Christian Suspense Complete Box Set (Books 1-9)

Straightened-10

Sandy wrapped her arms around Carl when he came back into the living room. He kissed her on the cheek. “Your bed buddy awaits you, my dear.”

“Thanks, babe.” She pecked him back on the lips and wished everyone a good night.

Carl sat on the couch with a loud sigh. “Well, I guess this doesn’t make for too bad of a bed. You both go right ahead and keep visiting or whatever it is the two of you were doing before you got interrupted. I can sleep with the lights on and noise in the background.” He stretched out his legs and rested them on the cluttered coffee table. “Been doing it straight for the last three weeks,” he added under his breath. “And I’m a hard sleeper, so I won’t even tell Sandy what you two yacked about all night.”

Nick blushed slightly. Kennedy tried to guess what he was about to ask her before Woong broke out with his inconsolable screaming.

Carl groaned slightly as he shifted his weight. “And Kennedy, I’m apologizing in advance if I snore too loud.”

“It’ll be a while before I can sleep. It’s a good thing Nick has so many books here or else ...”

“So you’ve looked through Nick’s library, have you?” Carl frowned even though his eyes still smiled. “You read the one that tells you how all Christians should trade in their work shoes for leather sandals and turn into a bunch of hippie socialists? Because we all know how well communism works out as a political system, don’t we?”

Kennedy glanced at Nick. He didn’t appear to notice her at all. “It was just one title I said had at least some merit for Christians to consider.”

“Right.” Carl nodded. “And let me guess. You have just one title about how God’s people have gotten the homosexuality question wrong for six millennia, but conveniently for all the gays and lesbians out there, God decided to tell the real story to some twenty-year-old theologian-wannabe who’s letting the world know that as long as you’re happy, God’s not gonna judge you since, after all, he’s a God of love, right?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Right. And kicking your gay son out of your home and threatening to disown him is a much more Christ-like way to live.”

Kennedy wished there was a way to step in and make them stop bickering. She wouldn’t be surprised if Sandy appeared in the hallway and ordered them both to bed.

Carl was leaning forward now as if he were ready to spring to his feet at a moment’s notice. “Now, I’m not saying what Wayne Abernathy did to his son was justified. But in the public arena, he did a lot of good upholding the sanctity of marriage.”

“Because life-long gay unions are such a direct threat to monogamous, heterosexual couples like you and Sandy. And applauding a professional photographer for dropping a lesbian wedding after she’s already taken their two-thousand-dollar deposit is a powerful step forward for religious freedom.”

Kennedy hoped neither of them would notice when she slipped onto the second couch and picked up the Tolkien book.

“I’m not saying I agree with what that photographer did,” Carl argued. “I’m saying that the state has an obligation to uphold religious freedom. They can’t make a private business owner go against her conscience ...”

“Just like in the fifties they couldn’t make a private homeowner go against his conscience and rent his house to blacks. Don’t you hear what you’re saying?”

Kennedy was glad her first year at Harvard had taught her to read and stay focused with all manner of strange noises assaulting her from all corners of her dormitory.

“This isn’t the Civil Rights Movement, son.”

Nick dropped into a folding chair. “No, but it should be. Jesus told us to reach out to the oppressed. The weak. The marginalized. And what do our churches do today? Paint big, huge No Gays Allowed signs on their entryways and pat themselves on their backs for their pharisaical righteousness. But look at what Jesus did. He sat down and ate with hookers and extortionists. He didn’t hate on them. Didn’t ban them from his congregation. Didn’t vote for legislation to remove them from the public eye.”

“You’re absolutely right. And he didn’t call everyone who disagreed with their lifestyles bigots and homophobes, either.”

“True. He called them broods of vipers and sons of the devil instead.”

Carl smiled faintly. “The people Jesus called a brood of vipers in Matthew 12 were those who refused to believe that God can grant miraculous healing. He called another group children of the devil because they wouldn’t admit they were slaves to sin. Unfortunately for your argument, I don’t read a lot of bigotry or homophobia into those passages.”

Nick let out his breath. Kennedy flipped through The Fellowship of the Ring, trying to find Tom Bombadil’s song.

Carl stood and put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I know we have our disagreements. And I know you’ve had some painful experiences that make this a very real and very personal issue for you, and I’m not downplaying that. Not in the least. These are good discussions for us to have, and I’m glad God’s using us to sharpen each other like iron sharpens iron. Let’s just make sure we’re using that sharpness for healing and edification, not for stabbing each other, all right? I’m talking to both of us now, myself as much as you.”

Nick sighed. “You’re right. I know it can be hard for us to ...”

He was interrupted by a discordant, tinny refrain.

Peace washes over me. Peace washes over me.

It was the Babylon Eunuchs and their ridiculously drawn-out worship chorus. Nick pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Hello?” A frown. He looked confused. “I’m having a hard time understanding you. Is this Jodie?”

Kennedy glanced up from her book and winced. All night she’d been worried about Noah. Why hadn’t she stopped to pray for his little sister, too?

“No, I can hear you now. That’s a lot better.”

She had never seen Nick doing any actual youth ministry before tonight, but she could understand why Jodie would have reached out to call him on a night like this.

“That’s ok. You just gotta try to slow down your breathing a little bit ... Uh-huh. Your body just doesn’t know what to do with all the fear and grief, so it ...”

Kennedy tried to focus on her book. Why was she always getting stuck in the middle of these horrifically private conversations?

“Sure, I can come visit you. You said you’re staying at your grandma’s house? ... Yeah, I know that neighborhood pretty well. You can text me the address and I’ll find it just fine. Is your mom there? ... She’s with the police still? Ok, well you know I can’t meet with you alone, right? So maybe what I’ll do is ...”

He glanced at Kennedy, and she nodded without waiting for the question. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, Jodie? You know what? How would you feel if Kennedy comes with me? Kennedy Stern? ... Ok, we’ll be there as soon as we can. We’re leaving right now.”

Kennedy slipped on her shoes. Tolkien and Tom Bombadil would have to wait.

CHAPTER 13“Thanks for coming with me,” Nick said as they drove. “It’s just policy for me not to meet with any of the girls alone.”

“No problem. Where does Jodie’s grandma live?” Kennedy asked.

“We should be there in about ten minutes.” Nick glanced at his phone.

Kennedy wished he’d keep his eyes on the road and let her navigate. “Did she say much when you talked to her?”

He shook his head. “No, she was pretty broken up. Makes sense after your house burns down and your dad dies.”

Kennedy didn’t know how to answer. She prayed she would have the right words for Jodie. Maybe her jetlag was a blessing, at least in this instance. She’d be staying up all night whether or not anybody else needed her to.

Nick strummed his fingers on the steering wheel to an inaudible beat. She wondered if he was the kind of person who always had a tune playing in his head. Wouldn’t it feel intrusive? Disruptive, maybe?

“So what’d you think of everything Pastor Carl said back there?” Nick’s question caught her off guard.

“I’m not really sure, to be honest.” She figured if she wanted to contribute anything constructive to these kinds of conversations with Nick, she’d have to switch from reading classics to politics and theology. If she found some extra time over the next few days, maybe she’d borrow a few of Nick’s books or check out some of those websites her dad followed and see what they had to say on the subject. “Right now, it seems like I have a lot more questions than answers,” she admitted.

“Questions are good. What kind of questions?”

“I don’t know.” Kennedy stared out her window. “Like if people like Noah are born gay or not. If it’s a sin to be attracted to the same gender. Stuff like that.” She got the feeling she was digging herself into a pit deeper than Ophelia’s grave, and once she jumped down in it, there’d be no avenging brother waiting there to pull her out.

Nick turned to look at her. “Those are all good questions.”

Kennedy was glad he didn’t laugh. “What about you? Sounds like you and Carl have some differing opinions on the subject.”

“Carl’s old school.” Nick glanced at the map on his phone once more. “And believe me, I know he means well. But he’s got his blind spots. Thinks legalizing gay marriage would be the worst thing that could happen to our country, when really the divorce rates are proof enough the typical American refuses to take marriage very seriously in the first place. It’s not like the Lindgrens will attend a gay wedding and then all of a sudden they’re going to be tempted to dissolve their marriage, know what I mean? But they make it out like it’s this big freedom of religion issue when it’s not. I mean, seriously, what could be so bad about giving two women a piece of paper that says they live together and can share joint assets?”

A snippet of a conversation Kennedy had with her dad flitted through her mind. “But what about adoption? If you allow these couples to get married, what’s going to stop them from adopting children?” She tried to remember the details of her dad’s argument. Hadn’t there been some big congressional hearing about how detrimental it was for kids to be raised in same-s*x homes?

Nick chuckled. “Do you have any idea how many kids there are in foster care waiting for permanent placements who couldn’t care less if they’ve got two moms or two dads or a partridge in a pear tree as long as they’re loved and cared for?”

“But a nuclear family ...” Kennedy tried to insert before Nick interrupted.

“Let me ask you a question. Do you think kids do best in homes raised by two parents, a mom and a dad?”

“Yes.” Of course she did. Wasn’t sociology on her side? Didn’t every single research study ever done prove her right?

“Ok, and what if one of the parents dies? Can a single mom or a single dad still successfully raise their kids, or does the state need to take the children away and find a nice, heterosexual two-parent home for them?”

“No. That would be ridiculous.” She got the sense that Nick was mocking her but couldn’t follow his line of reasoning. Not yet, at least.

“You’re right. So if a single parent can raise a kid well, why is it so far of a stretch to assume that two same-s*x parents can also raise a kid well? In some ways, wouldn’t it be even better, since theoretically one parent could stay home if they chose to and spend more time with the children? Not to mention the built-in benefits that come from sharing parenting responsibilities, right?”

“But I’ve seen the studies.” For the first time in her life, Kennedy was glad for those stupid politics links her dad would randomly email her. “Kids with a mom and a dad in the home get better test scores, have better health and nutrition, grow up to earn more money ...”

“Ok, so let’s assume those studies are completely objective and true. That’s a big jump right there, but let’s assume it for the sake of argument. So what you’re saying is that in order to give adopted kids a better chance at life, they need to go to heterosexual, monogamous homes, right? Because your study shows that’s where kids thrive the most. So what if I gave you studies that say kids who grow up in minority homes face more challenges than whites? Shouldn’t it logically follow that we make legislation that prevents Blacks and Hispanics from adopting? Or what about a study that says that kids are more likely to get a college education if their parents have a degree? Should we tell the girl who took night classes for a year to get her GED, ‘Sorry, but you’re not qualified to be a mom?’”