CHAPTER 15
1562 Words
CHAPTER 15
They made it through Sandy’s pineapple upside-down cake without any more arguing. Sandy told them about the progression of their adoption journey, starting from the time last summer when the Lord had put it on their hearts to open their home to one more child. She was always boisterous, but tonight, she was even more animated than normal as she spoke about little Woong.
“The hardest part now is waiting. I don’t remember praying for patience, but I guess that’s what God must be giving us.”
Kennedy couldn’t understand everything adoptive parents go through, but she got the part about patience. For so long, her life had felt like one big waiting room. Waiting for high school to end so she could leave Yanji and return to the States. Then, once college started, it was waiting for midterms or finals to be over so she could finally rest. Waiting to see her parents again after a whole year at school. Waiting to return to Yanji for the summer, even though she’d been in such a hurry to leave last fall.
There was more to it, though. More difficult experiences that tried her patience. Waiting for reprieve from her anxiety. Waiting for whatever improvements those stupid counseling sessions were supposed to bring. And Reuben. First waiting for her mind to catch up with her heart so she could admit she had real feelings for him. Feelings beyond a simple crush. And then waiting to find out if he felt the same way.
Would she ever know?
She glanced surreptitiously at the Lindgrens’ clock.
“I’m sorry,” Sandy apologized. “It’s getting late. I shouldn’t have kept you so long. It’s the adoption. Gets me babbling.”
“It’s ok.” Kennedy forced a smile even though thinking about Reuben turned her overstuffed stomach slightly sour. What was he doing now? How long would it take before things could go back to the way they were before?
Carl pushed his seat back from the table. “I’ll give you a lift back to campus.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Kennedy replied. “It’s not dark out yet. I can just take the bus and catch the T.”
“You’ll do no such thing, young lady.” Carl turned his pockets inside out. “Now where did I put my keys?”
Nick scooped up his dirty dishes. “Actually, I need to hit the road, too. Some of the youth group boys and me planned a late-night X-Box tournament at my place.” He reached over for Kennedy’s dirty plate. “I’ll drop you off at your dorm. No problem.”
Sandy smiled and joined Nick clearing off the table. “So I guess that settles it. Thank you both for coming over and sharing our good news with us. I’m sorry if I talked your ears off.”
“Don’t believe a word she says,” Carl quipped. “At least not the part about her being sorry. If I had known this would happen once we decided to adopt again, I might have asked her to wait another ten years until I had hearing aids I could turn down on command.” He leaned over and pecked Sandy’s cheek. “Thanks for dinner, babe. It was delicious.”
Kennedy and Nick both expressed similar sentiments. Once they got the table cleared and endured a drawn-out goodbye on the porch, they finally made their way to Nick’s VW bus parked in the Lindgrens’ driveway.
“Is that a new paint job?” Kennedy asked, pointing to a cross made out of colorful handprints on the side door.
Nick let himself in. “Yeah, I guess you could call this an ongoing project. Every few months, one of the youth group kids comes up with an embellishment. I try to be as accommodating as I can. Gives the teens a sense of ownership in the ministry, I guess. Although you might have heard how Carl had to veto the picture of John the Baptist’s head on a platter.”
Kennedy chuckled and fastened her seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride. You sure it’s not too much out of your way?” She didn’t even know where Nick lived.
“I don’t mind. Gives us an excuse to be together. I mean, without Pastor Carl and Sandy breathing down our backs. You ever get the feeling they’re trying to play chaperone?”
Kennedy forced a laugh, even though she felt her face heating up like a beaker on top of a Bunsen burner. “I’m sure they mean well.”
“Yeah.” Another chuckle, just as forced as hers. “They certainly do.”
The pause that followed reminded Kennedy of those moments in class waiting for the teacher to hand you back a test you were afraid you’d failed.
“What are you listening to?” she finally asked when she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Oh, that? It’s my uncle and some of his buddies. They’ve got this folk, grunge, worship band mix going on in Oregon. Call themselves the Babylon Eunuchs. You know, because Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were probably ... Well, never mind. Do you like it?”
He turned the volume up, which made the slightly off-key singing even more discordant. “It’s not bad,” Kennedy lied. At least it gave her an excuse to not have to hold a conversation. Unfortunately, as soon as the first song ended, Nick turned off the CD. “You know, now that we’re alone, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
Kennedy felt her body tense and fought her muscles to relax. Her mind raced back to all her previous encounters with Nick, including a pseudo-date over Christmas break when they went out together for clam chowder.
“What is it?” She held her breath.
“Do you think it’s wise for Pastor Carl to be so political?”
Kennedy blinked, more confused than relieved. “What?”
The Peter, James, and John bobble heads nodded sagely while he spoke. “Like tonight, for example. It just seems to me like the leader of a racially diverse megachurch in Cambridge would understand how polarizing some of his views can be.”
Kennedy had to admit she didn’t know as much about American politics as either Carl or Nick. She could only guess what he was hinting at. “So you’re upset about the racism thing?”
Nick shrugged. “Partly. But not just that. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great pastor, and I couldn’t hope for a better boss. He’s a good friend too, which is why I don’t want to call him out on it. But the American church is on its deathbed, at least when it comes to conservative evangelical Christianity. These folks like Carl, they’re not taken seriously anymore. People don’t come to church to hear arguments against gay marriage or abortion. They want to see grace. Where’s the grace in berating women for something they did to their child years or decades in the past?”
Kennedy frowned. “So does that mean you’re for or against abortion?”
“Against. Naturally. But really, is abortion the issue, or is poverty the issue? Did you know that eighty percent of women who get abortions do it because they don’t feel like they can afford to raise another child? So what should we do, should we focus on banning abortions, or should we spend that same energy and resources on lifting women out of poverty so they don’t seek out the procedure in the first place? Do I like abortion? No. But are we really doing any good when all we talk about is which pro-life candidates to elect?”
Kennedy frowned. She wasn’t following Nick’s reasoning, and she had the feeling that she was too uninformed to ever catch up with his logic.
“Around the country,” he went on, “Christians are seen as judgmental hypocrites doing what they can to strong-arm the government into agreeing with everything they preach. I mean, I’m all for the Bible, but seriously, does it really matter if a courtroom hangs up a copy of the Ten Commandments or not? When Jesus tells us to feed the hungry and free the oppressed, was he really talking about whether or not school kids say under God in the pledge of the allegiance?”
Sensing he was waiting for a response, Kennedy muttered that she hadn’t thought through those issues lately. And by lately, she meant at all, but she didn’t mention that part.
“So then there’s Pastor Carl, and I already said he’s one of my favorite men in the world. He’s totally out of touch with the times, but people keep coming to his church. St. Margaret keeps growing, and I don’t know why.”
For once, Kennedy felt like she could contribute intelligently to the conversation. “It’s probably because people see how much he and Sandy love others. Isn’t that what church is supposed to be about?”
“You’re probably right.” Nick turned his uncle’s dissonant blend of banjo, guitar, and inept vocals back on and glanced at her long enough to crack a grin. “You’re a smart girl. I guess that’s why they let you into Harvard.”
The second half of the drive back to school wasn’t nearly as awkward as it started out. Nick dropped her off as close to her dorm as he could without needing to park, and Kennedy smiled to herself when she pictured what the other students would think of the pimped out Christian bus. As she made her way to her dorm, she realized she was more relaxed than she’d been in weeks. When she got to her floor and heard Willow and some guy talking, she wasn’t even that upset. It was a Friday night, after all. If Willow really wanted the room to herself, Kennedy could text Reuben to see if he wanted to meet her at the library to go over some calculus.
She pushed the door open, but her smile faded when she saw Dominic in his uniform standing by Willow’s desk.
“Oh, there you are.” He didn’t smile.
Neither did her roommate.
Willow took in a noisy breath. “I was just talking with Officer ...” Her voice trailed off.
Dominic shuffled his feet. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
Kennedy’s abdomen felt as if it were crashing to the ground like a poorly executed inertia experiment.
Dominic glanced once at Willow and then cleared his throat. “I’m here about your friend, Reuben. He’s just been arrested.”
- Writer
