The Broken Ones (Jesus Freaks #3) Page 3

  Ignoring her elitist comment, I take a deep breath. “I’m going to weigh all of my options,” I state, eyeing Roland to make her understand.

  “Are you kidding me?” Mom shouts, standing with her hands on her hips, pacing the floor.” Her knee-length charcoal grey, cotton skirt sways as her Keene sandals scuff across the floor. When she turns, her pale blue tank top reveals a dark spot of sweat between her shoulder blades. It’s always warm in here, but today seems especially so.

  “Wendy,” Roland and Dan say at the same time.

  “After all they’ve done to you…” she trails off in fury.

  “The them you’re blaming is the media,” I try to remind her.

  “And all the picture takers. You don’t even know who took the photos at the strip club.” She eyes Roland for a second as she says it.

  I have a choice. I can stand and get into a point-counterpoint confrontation with her, or I can peacefully explain my case. I really, really want to yell. I take a deep breath and say a prayer instead. But still, I stand.

  “The last year has been one of the hardest of my life, and one of the most rewarding. But a good friend told me something recently…”

  Mom’s quiet as Dan asks, “What’s that?”

  “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” I’ve said the words over and over in my head since Asher left that day. “If Jesus can overcome the world, and death, and all of that… I can probably take some time to make a decision that will affect the rest of my life.”

  Mom looks at Roland and points to me. “Is this your influence? You weren’t supposed to talk to her about going back there.”

  He holds up his hands in defense. “I didn’t…”

  “Excuse me?” I interrupt, annoyed about their evidently private conversations regarding me. “You know what, Mom? Enough is enough. He’s an adult and, for that matter, so am I. You can stop punishing him for leaving us now. There were two adults who helped make that choice.” My words sting her; evident as she pulls her head back and runs a hand through her frizzy curls.

  “Well,” she says, shakily. “Looks like you’ve thought this through.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’d support me more if I dropped out of school completely?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Roland and Dan gesture to each other.

  “We’re going to wait out here,” Dan says before kissing me on the head.

  The room feels a lot smaller without them here, I realize when the door closes.

  “You’re so angry with me,” Mom says, sitting on the edge of my bed.

  I’m confused, but answer her. “And you’re so angry with me. You think if I do choose CU, it will be to somehow punish you.”

  “Won’t it?” she asks in all seriousness.

  My eyes widen. “Mom, this isn’t about you. You raised me, for God’s sake, can’t you trust that I’m capable to make thought-out decisions.”

  She smiles. Small, but present. “Yes, but I also know that you’re capable of making emotional decisions, too.”

  I shake my head. “Not entirely. You’ve taught me well. Making decisions with emotion behind them is different than making emotional decisions. And, even if this were an emotional decision—which it isn’t—I’m nineteen now. I get to make those.”

  She wipes under her eye. Maybe a tear, maybe a tear she wants me to believe is there. It’s a gesture of surrender either way.

  I put my hand over hers. “You don’t have to worry that I’ll turn into Roland,” I say. “And, even if I did, would it be the worst thing in the world to become a pastor that traveled around the world making a difference?” I chuckle internally at the very thought.

  She takes my face in her hands and looks as serious as she ever has. “It scares me, Kennedy, because I believe you’d be absolutely perfect at exactly that. And, you’d have to face much harder times than what CU has offered you so far.”

  “I’m not going to be a pastor. Chill out,” I try to reassure her.

  She laughs. “You say that, but you’ve been ministering to me the whole time you’ve been there. Your grandfather made me see that one night. Your patience. Love. Perseverance. I like the woman you’re becoming, Kennedy. I just don’t want you to get hurt in the process.”

  I look down, my stomach dropping at the commitment I’ve just made. “I think I might have to get a little hurt, Mom.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lights, Camera…

  Roland

  Packing her up took only a few minutes, but I held my breath every second.

  She’s coming to live with me.

  My palms are sweaty against the steering wheel while I wait for her to say her goodbyes to Wendy and Dan. I have no idea what went on in her room when Dan and I excused ourselves, but it must have been just this side of a miracle because, to be honest, I didn’t think there was any human way Wendy would condone Kennedy living with me under anything but the most extreme circumstances.

  You promised you’d take care of her.

  Wendy’s chilling words have rarely left the foreground of my mind in the months since the pictures of Kennedy in front of the strip club were thrown all over the place. Sure, there were lots of us in the picture, but people focused on her, and the things they’ve said about her make my skin crawl. It almost came to a fistfight about keeping her enrolled in CU until I pointed out to the ancient Admissions Committee that there were three students, and two pastors/parents in that picture, and if the school was going to take a stance on one, they’d better be prepared to answer for all of them.

  And a partridge in a pear tree…

  They realized their judgment and held prayer sessions for all parties involved. I still don’t trust Hershel Baker, though. I can’t put my finger on it besides the obvious—he hates me and intends to rope Kennedy in with whatever his long-term plan is to see me fail. I’ll be damned if I’ll ever let that happen. Whatever issues he has with me will live and die with me, and I’ll go to hell and back to make sure they never touch her.

  Kennedy shuts her things into the trunk, then plops into the front seat of my Prius with a tired-sounding huff.

  “Ready?” I ask, grinning despite my nerves inside.

  She nods. “But you’re not.” She chuckles, pointing to the window, where I turn to find Wendy beckoning me out of the car with a wave of her hand.

  Breathe.

  I start to roll down the window, but opt to get out instead. My stomach still flips and sinks when I’m around her. There’s so much heavy history and unspeakable hurt that I caused her. I still feel the good times, too. Like when Wendy took me ice skating for the first time in college. It was on a frozen pond and I was scared out of my mind, but I wasn’t about to show her that. I fell more than I stood, and our cheeks hurt more from laughing than the frozen wind.

  “I will, I promise.” I hold up my hands in faint defense against her unspoken words. “I’d die for her, Wendy. I have no way to prove that to you, and I know I can’t ask you to take me on my word, but—”

  “Shut it,” she says with a wry grin on her face. “I do trust you. With her at least. But those other people…” Trailing off, she shakes her head, looking into the distance.

  “The world is full of other people, Wendy. Weren’t we each other people once?” My throat tightens as I say the words. I’d meant to keep them to myself.

  Her fierce eyes grow wide. She licks her lips and clears her throat. “I suppose you’re right. Have her call me when you get back to Asheville,” she says quietly before peering over my shoulder and blowing a kiss to Kennedy. I can’t move my eyes from her, so I don’t know if Kennedy returns the gesture, but the smile on Wendy’s face gives me all the answer I need.

  “I will. Drive safe.” Ducking back into my car, I watch for a moment as Wendy wraps her arms around herself and climbs into the passenger side of Dan’s Volvo. He shuts the door for her and offers
me a polite wave before driving away.

  “Uh… ready?” Kennedy asks. I whip my head toward her, my shoulders jumping slightly. “Jumpy much?”

  I take a cleansing breath. “Sorry. It’s been a long, weird couple of days.”

  Kennedy nods, a grin mimicking her mother’s forming on her lips. “That it has. Hey,” she says, sounding hesitant.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sorry I didn’t run the whole living with you thing by you before I, like, announced it.”

  Warmth fills my chest and spreads to my face. “I’m happy to have you, Kennedy.”

  And I am. I answered so quickly up in her room because I was afraid if I didn’t, she might change her mind, or take my hesitation as a no, and there would go the only chance I’d have.

  “I wonder if Bridgette will keep rooming with Eden after all.”

  I take a deep breath. “I heard about that…” I put the car in drive and set out down the driveway of the temple at ten miles per hour, as instructed by the sign.

  I’ve learned that parents of CU students involve a lot of people in decisions regarding their children. Preemptively, I’d received an email from Bridgette’s father asking that I not take offense to their decision to have Bridgette switch rooms. And that they “knew” I had little to do with Kennedy’s upbringing, so they weren’t blaming me for her “actions.” Little did they know, that offended me more than anything. Not the rubbing in that I wasn’t there for her as a child—I don’t believe that’s what they were doing. But, they backhandedly implicated Kennedy in the messes she’d been in as if they were of her own creating. And, somehow, it was negatively affecting their daughter.

  Of course, because I have an interest in both forgiveness and keeping my job, I told him not to worry about it and I would be praying for the best outcome in their daughter’s living situation.

  “Anyway,” Kennedy waves her hand in the air and stares through the windshield, “we’ll have the summer to figure out, like, if this works, or whatever. Then we can plan if I’ll just keep living with you when the school year starts.”

  Kennedy and I jerk forward as I slam on the breaks.

  “God! What?” she shrieks, annoyed despite the slow speed we’d been traveling.

  “Sorry.” I clear my throat. “When the school year starts? I thought you were going to visit with Cornell and—”

  Kennedy’s face twists almost comically as she arches an eyebrow and twists her lips. “Please,” she giggles, “we all know I’m returning to CU.”

  I look around me, for clues, maybe. “We do? But your mother… was this what you were talking about when you two were alone?”

  She tilts her head side to side. “Sort of. Let’s just put it this way, Mom knows I’m going back to CU, and I don’t even have to say it. But, I gotta say, you could stand to look a little more excited.”

  Dread attacks my equilibrium as I resume driving, turn onto the next street, and pull into a fifteen-minute-only parking space. “It’s not… It’s not that, Kennedy. I just… Ugh, I don’t know if returning to CU will be the best course of action for you.” The words are actually painful to say.

  Kennedy looks heartbroken. Her lips part and I have to look away from her deep, wide, how-dare-you eyes. “Why? Did my mom say something to you? Give you an ultimatum, or something?”

  “It’s not that.” I shake my head, speaking as emphatically as I can. I reach for her but she pulls her hand back.

  “Then what is it?” she spits out with more hurt and anger than I ever want to hear from her. “Have you had enough of me and all the torches and pitchforks that follow me around?”

  She uses her sarcasm in so many ways. Paints words with it, sculpts with it, murders with it. It’s no doubt a skill she obtained from her mother. It’s a great way to avoid being hurt. Something I guess I indirectly passed on to Kennedy through her mom. Avoid getting hurt.

  Leaning back against my seat, I let out a small growl as I run my hand over my head and rest it on the back of my sweaty neck. “It might be for your own good,” I try, hoping not to have to tell her all the details now.

  “You’ve lost your mind,” she finally answers after staring at me like I’d turned into a jigsaw puzzle. “I don’t think CU has anything left to throw at me that I can’t handle.”

  “True,” I concede. “But the media might.”

  She shrugs. “They’ll lose interest quickly.”

  Lord, she has no idea.

  I decide to just blurt it out.

  Help me…

  “The university, Kennedy, has signed a deal with NBC to produce a reality show-documentary thing. At Carter. The deal is for fall semester only, but everyone at NBC and Carter knows it’ll be picked up after the first episode to run all school year.” Her face pales and she lets out a deep exhale, but I continue. “This hasn’t been made public, but will be very, very soon, because the network will be interviewing students and faculty to find out who is willing to be followed and who they want to follow. Myself included.”

  Her eyes shoot to me. “Have you agreed to this? To let them follow you?”

  I shake my head. “Not my personal life. Not my home. But as far as church services go, that’s kind of fair game. CU’s had a lot of attention in the last year, and a lot of the viewing audience of NBC wants to know what goes on behind the walls of the school and in the lives of the students. They’re curious.”

  Kennedy faces forward again, resting her elbow on the edge of the window. She rakes her fingers through her hair as she puffs out her cheeks with a breath. Her body is still while her eyes dart around the scenery. I can almost read her next question across her eyes.

  “Kennedy,” I prompt.

  She faces me again, not looking quite so ghostly. “Is there any possible way that I can avoid being part of this?”

  I sigh. She’s far wiser than I was at nineteen. “I think, without them saying it, the network is hitching their hopes on you returning. You’re still technically enrolled…”

  Her head falls against the headrest. “I can refuse to be filmed, can’t I?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  She eyes me sideways. “You’re worried that might make things worse, however impossible that may seem.”

  My mind slips back to an unfortunate conversation I had with school higher-ups last week.

  “Is Kennedy continuing her schooling with CU?” One uptight suit asked.

  “Suddenly interested?” I shot back. “A few months ago you couldn’t wait to get her out of your hair.”

  Dean Baker snickered. “Circumstances have changed. Carter University stands to bring in a fair bit of money if this deal goes through.”

  “So you want to use my daughter as bait. To keep people tuning in until you can get your agenda situated and do with her whatever the audience wants?”

  The blank stares I was met with said enough.

  “Forget it.” I stood and walked toward the exit. “You’re not using my daughter for your gain. And if you think that after all that’s gone on she’ll even want to be part of something so public, then you’ve been out drinking.”

  I left right then, noting the blushing faces of more than one closet drinker in the pretentious crowd. Not my finest moment by far.

  “Roland,” Kennedy grabs my attention. “They’ve already talked to you about me, haven’t they? Is that why you were so quick to let me stay with you this summer?”

  “What? Kennedy, no. I assumed you wouldn’t be coming back at all, let alone for the summer.” At her core, Kennedy can’t fully trust me yet. It’s a fact, a consequence of the decisions I’ve made in my life. I start driving again. I think better while driving, even through the clogged arteries of Manhattan.

  She’s silent for several minutes. I watch her clench and relax her fists several times. I do that. I suppress a grin.

  “I’ll do it,” she says out of nowhere. “On my terms.”

  I swallow down the nausea brewing in my stomach. “Kennedy, you d
on’t have to do anything. And I’m not sure that you can really control what they film, or whatever. I haven’t done enough research there yet, because I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”

  She snorts in that sarcastic laughter she definitely got from her mom. “Oh, they’ll let me. Do you know nothing about the entertainment business?”

  “Some,” I admit. “But New Life produces my sermons. We have our own production crew. So what’s handed to the networks has already been edited. By us.”

  Stopped at a red light, I can see she seems surprised by my answer. “There’s a reason for that. I went to high school with plenty of… those types.” She winks at me as she says, “those types,” since she hates so much when her mother refers to CU students as, “those people,” I assume. I crack a smile. “Anyway, network exec’s always come in guns blazing, but they know their ratings, and jobs for that matter, are contingent on a series of yes’s from the people around them. No is a dangerous word for their Porsche-driving lifestyle. I’ve seen a lot of people get taken advantage of, so I know what to do to avoid that. Oh, God, Mom’s going to lose her mind. Let’s not tell her yet.” Her speech speeds up the longer she talks.

  “Kennedy, take a breath,” I encourage. “We can make sure they don’t take advantage of anyone.”

  She laughs, a little like a crazy person. “They’ll exploit anyone they can get their hands on. That’s kind of the nature of reality shows. It starts out sounding like a good idea…” Her gaze floats somewhere out the window as I start forward again, anxious to get out of New York and be back in Asheville.

  “What is it?” I ask gently.

  Kennedy leans forward, placing her elbows on her knees as she cradles her head in her hands for a moment. Sitting up, she takes another breath and flatly says, “I’ll do it,” again. “They’ll meet me on my terms and I’ll do my best to make sure they don’t damage the people I love. They can crack their whips against my back if they must, but they’re not touching my friends. Those are good people.”

  “You’re a good person, too, Kennedy.” I rest my hand on her shoulder for a moment and she doesn’t flinch away. I leave it there a second longer.