by Alana Terry
Nick looked like he had something else he wanted to say, but when he stayed quiet, Kennedy wished him goodnight and headed to the Lindgrens’ guest room. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, but her eyes could use a short rest. She’d slept the day away like King Duncan’s drugged bodyguards in Macbeth, but she hadn’t taken her contacts out. The lenses were dry and scratchy against her corneas. She rummaged through her backpack for some eye drops when she came across the book Reuben gave her last spring.
The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis. He had known back then. Had known he wouldn’t be coming back to campus. Had known it was time to tell Kennedy good-bye. Part of her had known then, too. Known that as great as a friend as he was, it could never turn into anything deeper. She’d prayed about it over the summer. Prayed a lot. And the more her heart wanted to beg God to bring Reuben back in her life, the more she suspected he was asking her to let go.
It didn’t make the sacrifice any easier.
Kennedy had dated a few boys in high school, but her dad had been right when he told her they weren’t interested in her. Reuben was the first guy who’d really loved her. She was sure of it. He wasn’t like those boys in high school who just wanted to flirt or make out. She couldn’t understand it entirely, but she knew in some way his decision to stay in Nairobi was a sacrifice he was making for her. For Kennedy. So she could move on instead of falling in love with an HIV-positive exchange student who would only distract her from her academic goals.
The irony was she had no idea how she’d pass two lab courses this year without him by her side.
She thumbed through the pages of the Narnia book and reread the inscription Reuben had written for her on the front cover.
To my dearest friend Kennedy. Thank you for giving me the best year of my life. All my love, Reuben.
She shut the book and hugged it. Her mom told her it was best to move on. Stay friends with Reuben, keep emailing and Skyping if she wanted, but let him go as far as romance was concerned. The only problem was her mom never told her how. How to rip someone out of your heart who had never hurt you, who only wanted to do what was best for you. How to turn away from your biggest encourager, your biggest support. Everyone said sophomore year was the most grueling for pre-med students. And she was about to walk into it jetlagged and completely alone.
God has a plan. She was sick of hearing that from so many well-meaning Christians. God has a plan. Well, Kennedy had a plan too. What was wrong with hers?
She tucked the book into her backpack and checked her phone for emails. Maybe Reuben had written her. She had an entire folder of deleted drafts, letters she’d started to write to him, telling him she didn’t care about the HIV, didn’t care about the differences in culture. She wanted to be with him and would do anything she could to make it work out. But something always stopped her. Maybe it was the Holy Spirit. She didn’t know. Some Christians were great at “hearing from God,” at knowing just what he wanted them to do at any given time. But Kennedy was never like that. She had the Bible, and she had wisdom gleaned from her parents and the Lindgrens and other teachers from her growing-up years. And that was it.
Then again, even if she heard from God, even if a voice called down from heaven and told her it was time to give up her love for Reuben, she knew it would be just as difficult. Just as impossible. Maybe time was the answer. Maybe in a month, a year, she’d look back and thank God he hadn’t allowed things to progress any farther between them. When she graduated from Harvard, she didn’t want to have that nagging what if still stuck in the back of her head. What if Reuben hadn’t been sick? What if he hadn’t dropped out of school? What if the two of them hadn’t been scared to share their emotions before it was too late?
Eventually, Kennedy would have to let him go. The only question was how.
She heard the teakettle whistling in the kitchen and lay down on the bed. Maybe she could convince her body to take a little nap. It couldn’t hurt to try.
The second she shut her eyes, visions of Wayne Abernathy flashed through her mind. Had he burned to death in his sleep? What if the whole thing was a terrible accident, nothing more? What was going on with the investigation? She hoped they found Noah soon so at least he could clear his name. There had to be a good reason why he wasn’t at his house during the fire. There had to be a good reason why he hadn’t checked in with anybody.
Snippets from Dominic’s prayer around the Lindgrens’ dinner table played in her mind. Prayers for comfort for Vivian and the rest of the family. Prayers for Noah’s safety, wherever he was. Kennedy noticed that Dominic never specifically prayed for Noah to be found. He just asked for the truth to be disclosed.
God knew where Noah was. Maybe that’s what Kennedy should be praying about. Praying for Noah, the boy suspected of setting the fire that killed his own father. What did a little broken heart compare to something like that? And then the whole homosexuality thing. Kennedy could only imagine what Channel 2 would have to say about it when the story broke.
Poor Noah ...
A high-pitched beeping grated against Kennedy’s ears. At first she thought it was the teakettle. What was Nick doing out there? Why was he making so much noise?
“Kennedy?” Sandy was yelling from down the hallway. “Kennedy!” There was fear in her voice. Fear and something else. Panic.
Anxiety swelled up in Kennedy’s chest cavity, sitting heavy on her sternum and compressing her lungs.
“Kennedy!” Sandy threw the door open. “Come on, sweetie. We all have to get out. The house is on fire.”
CHAPTER 11
Sirens wailed, and strobing lights pierced the darkness in flashing shades of red and blue. Carl held Woong against his chest as they huddled in the driveway across the street.
“What’s that?” For once, Woong wasn’t kicking or screaming.
“Those are the firefighters, hon.” Sandy ran her fingers through her son’s hair. “They’re making sure everyone’s safe.”
Kennedy couldn’t believe it. By the time Carl and Sandy got everyone out of the house, the entire back bedroom was engulfed in flames that now leaped and danced from the rooftop. So many firefighters scurried around that Kennedy couldn’t guess how many of them there were. A few other neighbors were out of their homes as well in various stages of undress. At least it wasn’t a cold night.
“How did this happen?” There was a tremor in Sandy’s voice. Kennedy wanted to hug her but felt shy for some reason. Usually, Sandy was the one to comfort her, not the other way around. “Why would anyone do this to us?”
Carl slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “It might have been an accident. We won’t know until they check everything out.”
“Senseless,” Sandy was muttering. “What were they thinking? That was Woong’s room.” Her voice cracked, and she wiped tears from her cheeks. “A little boy. A helpless little boy.”
Carl held his son closer and cleared his throat. Then, as the firefighters doused the last of the roaring flames, he lifted up his booming voice in prayer. “Lord, great God and heavenly Father, we give you thanks. We give you thanks and praise, Lord, because there ain’t nothing in that house that can’t be replaced. We give you thanks and praise, Jesus, because you kept us all safe. The enemy came tonight. He came to steal, kill, and destroy, but you said no. No, you weren’t going to let our family suffer harm. Our house could have burned to the ground, and you would have just provided us with another. But you knew, Lord, you knew how important we were to each other. You knew how precious each life here is, and you saved us. God, we love you. You didn’t have to do it, Lord. You didn’t have to get us all out of there in time. I’m sure there’ll be mourning, Father. Mourning for the things we lost, the things we’re sure we can’t live without. But remind us, Jesus. Remind us of what we do have. Remind us of the way you stepped down and intervened and told the devil he couldn’t destroy our family. He couldn’t destroy our faith. The house can burn, but we’ll go on praising your name. Yes, Lord Jesus, because you�
�re our Savior, and there is nothing in this world more precious or valuable than you.”
There was no amen, no loud announcements or proclamations, just a peace that settled in the air around them and lingered as they nestled together on the sidewalk.
“I’m hungry.” Woong started to squirm, but Carl didn’t put him down.
“Not now, son. We can’t go home yet.”
Kennedy stared at the house. The men had extinguished the flames, but a black, smoldering smoke still hissed from the rooftop. A firefighter in his bright yellow suit lumbered toward them, taking off his mask as he neared. “It got that back room pretty bad. Not sure how much you’ll be able to save from there, but the rest of the house looks all right.”
“Thank the Lord,” Sandy whispered.
The firefighter frowned. “It’s not safe for you to enter right now, and I heard the police are on their way. Want to rule out arson.”
Sandy glared at her husband. “I told you it was ...”
“The thing is, we can’t have you staying here tonight,” he interrupted. “We have some numbers if you need help finding shelter. There’s a social worker on call who’ll help with all those arrangements unless you ...”
“You all can crash at my place tonight.” Nick had been so quiet Kennedy almost forgot he was there. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we’ll manage.”
“I don’t know.” Carl frowned. “What time is it? Almost two? Maybe we’d be better off just springing for a hotel. No use storing money in an emergency fund if you don’t ...”
“Let me take care of you. Please.” Nick pointed at the bus parked sloppily on the sidewalk. “I’ve got my keys right here. Woong and Kennedy can sleep on the couches. You two can take my bed. It might be crowded, but it won’t be any inconvenience at all.”
Crowded wasn’t the first word that popped into Kennedy’s mind when she entered Nick’s apartment. The couch where Woong was supposed to sleep was covered in so many X-box games and discarded snack wrappers Kennedy couldn’t tell what color the cushions were until Nick dumped everything into a big Ramen box. Woong had fallen asleep on the ride over, so Carl tucked him in as carefully as he could.
The other couch wasn’t quite as big of a mess, but it still took Nick several minutes to sweep off all the Cheetos crumbs and popcorn kernels. “Sorry. We had an X-box tournament a couple nights ago, and I didn’t get the chance to tidy up yet.”
“Everything is just fine,” Sandy lied pleasantly. Kennedy wondered if there was a polite way to ask for a sheet to place over the couch before she actually stretched out on it. She’d probably be too squeamish to rest here anyway. Who knew what kinds of bugs or rodents fed off all those crumbs?
“You better let me check on the bedroom before you get too comfortable,” he told the Lindgrens apologetically.
Sandy smiled as she glanced at the music posters stapled up on Nick’s walls. “Nice place, isn’t it?”
Carl didn’t answer. Neither did Kennedy.
“Doesn’t she have a pretty face?” Sandy fingered a photo of a blonde girl, the only picture in the room that actually had a frame. She picked it up off the coffee table and passed it to Kennedy. “Looks like she belongs on the cover of a magazine, doesn’t she?”
Kennedy squinted at the girl in her bright green and yellow sundress. There was something familiar about her smile.
Nick came out of the room and tossed two full trash bags by his front door. “It’s not perfect, but I figured after all you’d been through, you’d rather get to sleep sooner than later. I’d change the sheets for you, but it’s been a little while since I’ve made it to the laundromat, and ...”
“Don’t you say another word, young man.” Sandy came over and gave him a little side hug. “You’ve been more than hospitable taking us in like this. We sure are thankful.”
Nick wiped his forehead. “Thanks. I just wish I ...”
Sandy cut him off. “Not another word. You have a good night, and don’t forget that you and Kennedy need your sleep just as much as the rest of us. I don’t want to come out here in the morning to hear you’ve blabbed the night away.” She was smiling, but her words were stern so it was hard to tell if she was teasing or giving them an ultimatum.
“We’ll behave,” Nick promised.
Carl clasped Nick on the back. “You’re a good man, son. You don’t know what it means to me to have you taking in my family like this.”
Family. Something in the way he said the word twisted Kennedy’s heart between her ribs. Less than twenty-four hours on American soil, and she was already homesick? What she wanted more than anything was to call her mom and dad, but her phone was back at the Lindgrens’. So was her backpack, her Shakespeare books, her copy of The Last Battle from Reuben. Had the firemen saved it? It could have been so much worse. But it still happened. Was she supposed to be thankful? Sure, God had kept her and the Lindgrens safe, but couldn’t he have stopped those flames before they even began?
Carl wasn’t convinced it was arson, but what else could it be? Houses don’t just burn themselves down. Especially not two in the same night. No, this was definitely not a coincidence. Someone had targeted Carl and Sandy. The same person who had targeted the Abernathys. Who could be that vindictive? That murderous?
And why should the Lindgrens think they were out of danger now?
The fire had started in Woong’s room. She stared at his curled up form tucked under a ratty blanket on Nick’s couch. Sure, he could be loud and he threw fits whenever he didn’t get his way, but who would wish harm on someone so young? So helpless? Was the perpetrator really so cruel he’d resort to killing an innocent boy to get his point across?
And what point was he trying to make, exactly? If it had just been the senator’s home that had burned down, there could have been a dozen different suspects with a dozen different motives, each one just as plausible as the others. But now that the Lindgrens were involved, too ... Who would want to harm both families? Who would want to burn both their houses down?
It seemed even more important to reach Noah soon. Could they get any real answers without him?
Kennedy watched Nick pull some camping gear out of an overstuffed closet. “Can I help you with anything?” she asked.
“Nah.” He tugged a sleeping bag free. “I think I’ll just set this up in the hall and try to get some sleep.” He shuffled his feet and stared at the couch. “I’m really sorry the place isn’t any cleaner. It’s not always ...” He looked around. “Ok, well, it’s sometimes this bad, but if I’d known you’d all be coming, I would have put in a little extra effort.”
“I don’t think anyone minds.” Kennedy pointed at Woong, who had just rolled over with a contented sigh. He looked so much sweeter, so much more peaceful now that he was asleep.
“Well, can you think of anything you need before I set up camp for the night?”
She glanced at his microwave clock. Two thirty-six. It was going to be a long stretch until morning. “Got any books?”
A grin broke across his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Nick had converted half the storage areas in his kitchen into little mini-libraries. “This is where I keep my theology stuff.” He opened the cupboard above his stove. Kennedy was surprised by how orderly everything was. Either he cared a lot more about his books than he did the rest of his belongings, or he’d set them up the day he moved in here and hadn’t touched them since. Based on how worn some of the covers looked, she guessed it was the former reason.
Kennedy skimmed the titles. There was a lot about youth ministry there, as well as two books on homosexuality and the church that caught her eye.
“I keep my politics stuff here,” he said, opening another cupboard by the sink. His selection looked quite a bit like her dad’s, except the titles were probably newer. Her dad liked to joke that all his reading money was now funneled into Kennedy’s college textbook fund.
“Over here is my favorite.” He opened up his pantry, wher
e he kept a whole section of sci-fi and fantasy. If Kennedy got desperate she could flip through the poems in Lord of the Rings. Her dad had forced her to read the entire trilogy when she was a high school sophomore, but she had skipped the songs and poetry to make the story move along faster. Maybe she’d appreciate those parts if she could read them at her leisure.
“It’s probably not the kinds of books you usually pick out.” Nick frowned.
“No, don’t worry about that. It’s actually really cool how you made space for all them. I’m sure I’ll find enough to keep me going.”
“You want heavy reading, find Grudem’s Systematic Theology. It’s in the cupboard by the microwave. Big thick one. Probably changed my life more than anything else besides the Bible.”
Kennedy tried to determine if there was a single book she could say the same thing about. There were books she loved, books that encouraged or inspired her, books that she could read and reread and always find something new. But change her life?
Maybe she’d check it out.
After spending a little time with Tolkien.
She pulled out The Fellowship of the Ring. “Thanks again.”
“Any time.” Nick lingered in the kitchen. Swept a dread out of his eye. Drummed his fingers on the counter and let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, speaking of Harvard ...”
Kennedy tried to hide her confusion. When had they been speaking of Harvard?
“I know you’re probably going to be really busy this semester, and I totally understand, but I wanted to ask you something. And you’re welcome to say no, it’s not like it’s going to hurt my feelings or anything, but well, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I’ve been wanting to find time to ask you all night if you’d ...”
He didn’t get the chance to finish, because Woong sat up on the couch with a shriek. As Kennedy and Nick rushed over, he let out a second scream that could have scared all three of Macbeth’s witches speechless.
