by Alana Terry
“She didn’t sound happy.” Woong’s mouth was stuffed with chips so Kennedy could hardly understand him. “She was crying when I left.”
Crying? That wasn’t a good sign. “Who she was talking to?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Kennedy looked around. Maybe it was good Sandy got a little privacy. But what were she and Woong supposed to do? She could take him to the youth room. He might like the pool table there, and if she remembered right there was an air hockey setup too. Or they could go to one of the children’s church rooms. What kind of toys did a kid Woong’s age like to play with? Did they even play with toys still? The nursery was out of the question. Too babyish. Nothing but stacking blocks and board books.
That was it.
“Hey, do you like books? Do you want to go to the library and I’ll read to you?”
“Ok.” There was no excitement in his voice, but at least he didn’t argue.
At first, Kennedy thought she could translate some of the simpler kids books into Korean, but she’d been exaggerating her language skills and underestimating the jetlag-induced mental fog. She settled with a Bible story book and read it in English, answering Woong’s questions in Korean when he posed them.
“Why’s he got that knife?” Woong placed a grubby finger on the picture of Abraham.
“He thinks the knife is to sacrifice his son.”
“What’s sacrifice?”
“It’s back in the Old Testament, when God asked people to kill animals for him. It was the way their sins were forgiven back then, back before Jesus came and died on the cross.” She could tell by Woong’s face she’d lost him.
“They’re killing animals?” he asked.
“Well, Abraham didn’t bring an animal. Remember? God told Abraham to take his son up on the mountain and sacrifice him there.”
“So what kind of animal are they going to use?”
“No animal.” She was beginning to wish she’d chosen a less complicated story. “Just Isaac. God told Abraham to go kill Isaac.”
“He said to kill him?” Woong’s eyes widened.
“Well, that’s not what ended up happening, see.” In the back of her head, Kennedy was wondering if Sandy would be upset she’d read Woong such a disturbing story. Why couldn’t she have stuck with something better suited for kids, like Noah’s ark or the talking donkey? She knew she was doing a poor job explaining and would have to start from the beginning. “God wanted to test Abraham to see if he’d obey, so he ...”
“I never knew God let people kill each other! That’s so cool!” Woong jumped off Kennedy’s lap and started making pretend machine gun noises, holding his imaginary weapon. Well, at least once Sandy learned what Kennedy taught her son, she’d never call on her to babysit.
Woong ducked away from some sort of pretend explosive. “I wonder if God will let me kill somebody one day!”
Kennedy shut the children’s Bible and promised herself never to volunteer for children’s ministry at any church at any point in her life.
Woong had just emerged from behind a desk to launch a grenade toward Kennedy when Sandy walked in. “There you are. I was wondering where you were hiding.”
Kennedy blushed and slipped the Bible onto the table behind her.
Sandy grabbed Woong’s hand. “Come on now. Daddy’s done with his meeting, and we’re going to have a picnic out on the back lawn. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
Woong’s countenance brightened significantly at the word picnic.
“Don’t run ahead now,” Sandy chided as they made their way down the church hall. “Remember last time when you knocked over those communion trays.”
Woong didn’t seem to hear. Sandy grabbed his hand again and managed to hold onto it for a full five seconds before he yanked himself free and sprinted ahead to his dad’s office.
“God’s gonna let me kill you one day!” he was shouting. Kennedy was glad he was speaking Korean so his parents wouldn’t hear his bizarre proclamation.
When they got to his office, Carl gave Sandy a small kiss and then frowned. He wiped her cheek with his thumb. “Have you been crying, princess?”
Sandy’s eyes scrunched up into a radiant smile that spread crinkle lines across her entire face. “Yes, but it’s good news. At least, I hope you’ll think so. Come on. Let’s get this picnic spread out, and I’ll tell you all about it while we eat.”
Carl slipped his arm around her waist. “Honestly, honey, I don’t think I can handle one more surprise. Could you just tell me? Any other day ...” he began, but Sandy cut him short.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I should have thought of that.” She looked over her shoulder as if she’d lost something. “Oh, dear. Maybe today isn’t the best time for this at all. I really should have prayed about this first. Now I ...”
“Just tell me what it is, woman.” Carl’s tone was tired.
“All right.” Sandy twisted up the handles of her floral canvas bag that held the snacks she’d bought for them. “Ok.” She took a deep breath. “While Woong was napping, I made a phone call. It was to someone we haven’t heard from in ten years.”
“Skip the guessing game,” Carl sighed. “Please?”
“Ok.” Sandy braced herself. “I was talking with our foster son, Guy. He says he’d like to get together.”
CHAPTER 31
“You’re mad now, aren’t you? I can tell you’re mad.” Sandy passed Carl his lunch from the restaurant and pulled out a few other snacks she had picked up during their shopping spree.
“I never said I was mad.” Carl’s voice was expressionless as he unwrapped his sandwich.
“Yeah, but I should have talked with you about it first. It’s just that I was telling Kennedy about Guy in the car, and I was thinking about Wayne and Noah never having a chance to reconcile before ... But still, it wasn’t right for me to jump in full-speed and start making ...”
“It’s not that, hon.” Carl reached out to stroke her cheek. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Tired of the hatred, the hypocrisy, the broken relationships. And I just can’t help feeling like somehow this is all my fault. Maybe if I’d talked about how we need to love each other more, accept one another where we’re at, maybe Wayne wouldn’t have been killed. If I’d preached more on the importance of grace in our lives, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.” He shook his head.
Sandy rubbed his back. “You preach the word of the Lord. That’s all God’s ever called you to do.”
Carl hunched over his food. “I know that, sugar. At least my head knows that. But my heart ...”
Woong frowned. “Are you crying?”
Sandy gave him a shush and a bag of crackers. “Dad’s just sad, sweetie. That’s all.”
Carl nodded. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. “Yes, son, I’m sad. Sad that we live in a world where people are so full of hate. So full of violence. I’m sad that my own kid is forced to grow up in a world where parents would dream of disowning their child, no matter what the reason. I’m sad that we as the body of Christ would rather excommunicate a struggling member, gawk at his pain instead of walking beside him, try to guess his sorrows, try to make it our own. I’m sad that we Christians take one or two sins, the ones we think of as the really bad ones, and we crucify anyone who isn’t as righteous and upstanding as we are, while we ignore our own pride and arrogance and hypocrisy.” He sniffed and wrapped his arm around Woong, who surprisingly didn’t struggle free from his hold. “And I’m sad that my friend is dead.” He buried his face into Woong’s hair. Kennedy glanced away, certain this was a scene far too poignant, too intimate for anyone but family.
“Here.” Woong held out his bag of chips as an offering to his dad.
Carl kissed the top of his head, and Woong made a disgusted grimace.
“I love you, son,” Carl whispered. “And nothing you could ever do would make me even dream of shutting you out of my life.”
Something beeped, and Sandy pulled her phone out
of her pocket.
She took a deep breath. “That’s Guy. He wants to know if we can get together for dinner on Thursday. He says he’d like to introduce us to our grandson.”
CHAPTER 32
Kennedy was grateful Nick had let her crash at his place for an afternoon nap. When she woke up and emerged from his bedroom, Woong was sitting spellbound in front of the TV, moving his body side to side while playing a racecar game on the X-box. Carl was on the couch reading a book, and Sandy and Nick were in the kitchen.
“Do you have any cornmeal here?” she asked. “I’d love to make you all some sweet corn muffins.”
Nick frowned. “No, sorry. Most of the stuff I’ve got here comes from the freezer-meal section.”
“Well, you really shouldn’t eat like that, hon. You know they pump that full of salt and all kinds of artificial ingredients.”
Nick grinned. “Why do you think I show up at your place so often?”
She smiled back. “We’re always happy to have you.”
He pulled two cans of tomato sauce out of a shopping bag. “Well, now it’s my time to treat you. I didn’t cook much growing up, but when I worked at the boys’ home, I learned how to make a mean pot of spaghetti sauce.”
“That sounds fine. Don’t you think that sounds good, darling?” she called out to Carl.
“What?” He looked up from his book. It was one of the titles on homosexuality and the church from Nick’s cupboard.
“I said, doesn’t spaghetti sound good tonight?”
Carl gave a non-committal response and went back to his reading.
“Whoa!” Woong shouted and nearly knocked himself to the ground trying to lean over as his car took a sharp turn.
“Fun game, isn’t it?” Nick asked.
Woong didn’t reply.
“It’s awful nice of you to cook for us.” Sandy opened one of Nick’s cupboards and frowned when all she found was books.
Nick dumped the tomato sauce into a rusted pan. “My pleasure.”
Half an hour later, after two false alarms with the smoke detector, everyone was seated on Nick’s couches with plates of spaghetti in their laps, except for Woong, who was on the floor surrounded by towels ready to sop up his inevitable mess.
“Sorry I don’t have a more comfortable place for us to eat.”
Carl patted Nick on the shoulder. “You’ve been more than hospitable, my friend. Words can’t thank you enough.” He set his fork down. “And now, I want to hear all about your meeting today with Noah. How is he doing?”
Nick gave him a sly smile. “I’ll tell you about my conversation with Noah once you tell me what you think of that book I recommended.”
Carl paused thoughtfully. “Well, it’s well written. He’s got a clear, succinct way of presenting his arguments.”
“But you still don’t believe he’s on the right side of the truth.”
Carl shrugged. “I don’t have to believe everything an author says to appreciate the points he’s trying to make, do I? You and I both know this is an issue we’ll never agree on. And that’s ok. I’m not afraid to hear your views, because I know what the Bible says on the subject. There are some issues that might be worth going to battle over. And even though we both feel passionately about this particular topic, here I am eating dinner with you, and here you are taking care of me and my family.”
There was a peace that settled around Nick’s living room, as cluttered and crumb-laden as it was. It was a peace Kennedy hadn’t experienced since last year when she’d spent time with the Lindgrens.
A peace that made Nick’s germ-ridden apartment feel like home.
“All right.” Carl set his plate down on the arm of the couch. “I’ve given you my thoughts on your book. Now it’s your turn to tell us what happened when you went to see Noah this afternoon.”
Kennedy leaned forward so she wouldn’t miss a single word.
“He was having a hard time. Obviously, that goes without saying. He said he talked with the family lawyer, and they’re going to push for trying him as a minor and stick with a manslaughter charge. It’s the best he can hope for right now. He never set out to kill Marcos. He’s completely devastated.”
“So what’s the story with the counselor?” Sandy asked. “I still don’t get what happened.”
Nick sighed. “Basically, Noah was getting the same emails his dad did, emails demanding money or else all his conversations with Marcos would be released. Not a whole lot at first, amounts someone like Noah could get his hands on without drawing too much attention to himself. But then the blackmailer got greedy. Started asking for more and more, and Noah just couldn’t come up with that amount of cash fast enough. That’s when they got Wayne involved.
“So Noah got a text from his dad about these emails, and of course, he assumed Marcos was the one behind all this. Goes without saying he felt completely betrayed, so he went over there. Marcos denied everything, but Noah didn’t believe him, and he was so distraught that ... I mean, he’s the first to admit that he carried it way too far. That’s why he’s not going to fight the manslaughter charges. And I guess his lawyer is pretty hopeful that it won’t be too bad, especially if they’re able to keep him in juvenile courts.
“So he got in this fight with Marcos, kind of blacked out is how he describes it, and next thing he knows Marcos is bleeding, so he calls 911, doesn’t say anything, just lets them pick up the call and hopes they’ll send someone over, and he gets out of there. Hides downtown all night trying to figure out what to do, and eventually comes here. That’s when Kennedy and I talked with him.”
Kennedy thought back to their conversation on Nick’s balcony. “So he really didn’t know his dad had been killed until Drisklay told him?” she asked.
“No. He’d been running for hours by the time we saw him. He didn’t know a thing.”
“That’s terrible.” She knew the expression on Noah’s face when the detective told him the news would haunt her for years.
Carl was shaking his head. “I still can’t believe Marcos would do something like that, though. I met him a time or two. His testimony itself is miraculous. God delivered him from a life of homosexuality, gave him a wife and kids. Poured out so much grace on him ... He seemed so genuine. I can’t believe he was a blackmailer.”
“He wasn’t.” Nick wiped spaghetti sauce off his chin. “That’s the real tragedy behind everything. Marcos was completely innocent. It was his office assistant, some new worker who was behind it all. She’s the one who went over to the Abernathys’.”
“So she’s the one who murdered Wayne?” Sandy asked.
“Yup. They ran her plates. They have her name and everything. Traced the emails back to her. Seem real confident they’ll find her, and she’s gonna have quite a lot to answer for.”
Carl pouted and shook his head.
“Noah must feel awful.” Kennedy couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to know that you’d murdered someone, especially someone who ended up being completely innocent.
“Oh, it’s a tragedy,” Nick replied. “And that’s not the worst of it. Before he left to confront Marcos, Noah went to talk with his dad. I guess it was this real cathartic heart-to-heart they had. Noah told his dad about the blackmail and everything else. And he told me he sort of expected his dad would just pay the hundred grand and keep everything quiet, because of course someone like Wayne wouldn’t want to be seen as the father of the gay kid, you know?
“But that wasn’t Wayne’s response. And I have to hand it to him, I sort of despised the senator for a long time for making such a big deal about that lesbian wedding photographer, and I still think he was in the wrong there, but when it came to loving his son, he really stepped up. Noah said that his dad looked at him and said something like, ‘It’s going to take me quite a long time to process all this, but you’re my kid. I made a promise to God when I started my political career that my family would come first, and that’s why we’re not going to give in to their thre
ats anymore. You’re my son, and nothing can ever change that. We’re gonna go to the police and tell them what’s happened, and if the media gets wind of it, so be it. I’m sorry for the embarrassment it will cause you, but I’m not afraid to go on record telling the world that my son is my son, and if they want to make a big issue about who he does or doesn’t find attractive as a seventeen-year-old boy, that just shows how weak and cowardly and petty these folks really are.’”
The room was silent except for the sound of Woong slurping his noodles into his mouth one forkful at a time.
“That’s what he said?” Sandy finally asked.
Nick nodded. “And really, I think that’s probably why Wayne’s dead. We don’t know what happened during his meeting with that assistant, but Noah said his dad wasn’t planning on paying any blackmail. I assume that’s why she got mad and killed him. And maybe why the fire started, too. Sounds like he might have been trying to burn some of the evidence when she got to him.” He sighed. “I guess if there’s any good side to the story, it’s that Wayne died at peace with his son. And at least now Noah knows his dad loved him fully and unconditionally. No strings attached.”
More silence. Even Woong ate more quietly than normal.
Finally Carl reached over to pat Sandy on the shoulder. “I’ve made up my mind, hon. I want you to text Guy and tell him we’d love to have him over. No, better yet, you pass me your phone and I’ll call him myself.”
CHAPTER 33
Kennedy had been wrong. She had spent the past day fully convinced that once she got all the facts straight about the Abernathy murder, once all her questions were answered, she could finally rest. The case was solved, but that sense of relief she expected remained elusive.
The Lindgrens had gone to bed. Kennedy should be sleeping soundly now, too. She made it all the way to sunset with only a short afternoon nap, but for some reason her body still refused to relax.
She’d taken Nick’s Lord of the Rings volume out to his balcony and sat beneath the dim security light, staring at the same page for a quarter of an hour.
