Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(101)

Evidently I was also given the grace of bullshit for this interview. I did forgive Joy, but I’m so consumed with what’s going on—or not going on—with Matt, that I just haven’t given Joy much brain space over the last several weeks. I do want to talk with her, and see if she’s okay, because I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to step back on campus after all the outrage.

Greg looks at me with an unamused expression that he quickly morphs into one with personality. “You sound like a changed young woman. When I first spoke with you a couple of months ago, you seemed a lot quieter, maybe more timid. What’s different now?”

I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin just a little. “I’ve accepted who I am, Greg. I’m made up of where I came from, where I am right now, and even a little of where I’m going. I know without the shadow of a doubt that God is ordering my steps through this process. I know that,” I cut off his follow-up question, “because I would have never chosen this for myself. Yes, I chose to come to CU, but that choice was driven by something far greater than my will. It was driven by the primal desire to know my roots, so that I may grow the right wings.” I let out a long, silent exhale, and briefly close my eyes.



Thank you for that …



Clearly only prepared for a gossip session regarding Joy or the differences between Greenwich and Asheville, the rest of the interview feels like fluff. I don’t know what in-depth he was expecting, but I assure you it wasn’t regarding anything positive. Which is really quite disappointing since I typically do like Mauer’s interview style.

When the interview finally ends, Greg Mauer is out of the house and in his SUV faster than I’ve seen someone move in a while. He didn’t stick around for coffee-talk, but that’s okay. I’ve got to get to my “biology” class anyway. The quotation marks will stay there until I can be sure they’re not politically motivated in their teachings. It’s still too early to tell, but I have a feeling they’ll stay a while.

“Smart,” Jahara, says approvingly with a nod, holding the door open for me. “You’re a smart girl, Kennedy. That was an excellent interview. I bet if it wasn’t live, they wouldn’t have ever aired it. You were really good.”

I blush, having never heard much from Jahara at all, let alone pounds of compliments. “Thanks.”

Eden and Bridgette are waiting outside for me, since we all have “biology” together.

“You guys look so good!” I say while they twirl around and make kissy-faces in the air. “Love it!”

“You were so good in that interview. Did you mean all of that?” Bridgette asks, plodding down the steps.

Eden links her arm with mine. “Of course she meant it, Bridge,” she says defensively.

“Oh,” Bridgette turns around, almost pale-faced, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant … how are you so forgiving with Joy?”

Taking a deep breath as we walk down the driveway, I stop short when I see Matt standing at the gates. The girls stop, too, and no one says a word. I don’t want to move, in fear that he’ll flee, scared like a bird at the feeder. His face is as grey as it was that night in the strip club, though I can reasonably assume he’s not drunk this time. Sure, I see him in class a couple of times a week, but outside of that—nothing. I don’t know if he’s playing a sport this season, but his shoulders do seem to have regained most of the muscle they’d lost over break. Eyes aside, he looks just like the Matt I thought I knew. But who is anyone, anyway, without their eyes?

As much as I don’t want him to flee, I can’t stand here and do nothing. I have to try. I’ll always try.

I take one step forward, my eyes still locked with his. Matt doesn’t run, but I wish he did. He slowly turns on his heels and trudges away one painfully slow step after another.

Bridgette and Eden give me the courtesy of waiting until he’s out of sight before they close in on my sides, each with one arm around my shoulders.

“I forgive Joy everyday,” I answer Bridgette’s question with fear rattling my voice, “because I need to be reminded that forgiveness is possible. That anyone, at any time, can be forgiven for any thing.”

They can, Kennedy. They can, and they will.

You will.

He will.

I will.



Acknowledgements


I want to thank Charles for taking this risk, and making even bigger sacrifices in order for me to see this series through. Whether it’s five books or twenty books, I know you’ll be by my side. Thank you to my wonderful beta readers willing to stick this out, even if it’s a genre shift for some of you. Your excitement, questions, and insights are invaluable. And, thank you to all my readers, old and new, who are lacing up for this journey, too.