“No,” I lie, yet again. I suspect he did, too.
A few moments of silence later, Jonah taps the window, drawing my attention to the front of The Pink friggen Pony. From there, I see two pastors, clad in jeans and polo shirts flanking the sides of a somber and swaying Matt. His head is down and he’s walking to the smaller SUV without much resistance at all. After they close Matt in the backseat, they exchange a few words, nodding to the Hummer, before Buck gets in the smaller vehicle with Matt and drives away.
“That was fast,” Jonah remarks. “I wonder what they said to him.”
Roland makes his way to the car quickly, and signals for both of us to get out. “Jonah, will you drive the other car back to the Wells place, please?” He produces keys from his pocket and drops them in Jonah’s hand.
“Sure thing,” Jonah answers.
“Is Matt okay? I mean … how is he?”
Roland shakes his head. “This is a tough one, guys. It’s hard to say how he is.”
“Is he going to be allowed back at school?” Jonah asks.
My eyes move to Roland’s and I silently beg him to tell me I don’t have to endure the rest of my time at CU without Matt.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “I think we all need to get some sleep.”
Jonah nods and walks to the Hummer, getting in and driving away slowly. I slide into the front passenger seat of Roland’s car, and lean my head against the window as he silently navigates us out of the parking lot.
“Are you okay?” he asks as we trek down an empty stretch of road.
I nod. “Because of the naked women you mean?” I saw more than what I allowed myself to admit.
He winces. “I mean because your friend is hurting.”
“He thinks he’s like his dad, but he’s also mad at his dad, and mad at God for showing his dad grace but not covering the whole family with it. Like his dad gets to walk away while they tend to the scars, or something.” I do my best to sum up Matt’s rant from several hours ago.
Roland shakes his head. “Buck doesn’t get to just walk away.”
“I know that, but I get what he’s saying, too. I used to think the same thing about you.”
“Used to?” Roland asks, pulling into the Wells’ driveway.
I nod, unbuckling my seatbelt and getting out of the car. “I was determined to hate you.”
“And now?” he asks, putting his keys in his pocket and walking around the front of the car, standing across from me.
I shake my head. “I don’t hate you anymore. I don’t think I ever really did, honestly. I’m sorry about tonight,” I add in quickly.
Roland runs a hand through his hair. “I wish you would have come to me right away, but I’m glad you eventually did.”
I snicker at the double-meaning about coming to him that I’m not sure he’s aware of.
“Come here,” he says, holding out his arms.
I do, and feel at home in his hug. It’s the most at home I’ve felt in weeks. It’s scary, and it’s tense, and uncertain. But it’s wonderful. “Did you call my mom?”
Roland sighs. “Not yet.”
“What are the odds we need to tell her?” I ask, stepping back. “I mean, what are the chances anyone but the five of us—six counting Matt’s mom—will know or need to know about this?”
Roland sighs again and starts for the guesthouse. “I don’t know how to answer that, Kennedy. I’m not only a parent that was involved tonight. I’m on the faculty of Carter University, the pastor of New Life …”
“And internationally responsible for, like, everyone,” I add, resigned, following him into the house and onto the couch.
He nods. “I have a lot of moral and ethical balls in the air here.”
“So,” I ask, breathless with oncoming tears, “what do we do?”
Roland lowers his head for a moment and then grabs my hand, eyeing me. “Pray with me,” he requests, not asks.
“Of course,” I answer without hesitation. I mean, it’s the least I can do. I can’t imagine the scene my mom may have caused in or around the strip club tonight. All Roland did was remind me over and over that I did the right thing.
Now I need to do the right thing for him.
With our heads lowered and eyes closed, Roland starts. “Dear Lord, please guide our actions and decisions over the oncoming days and weeks. We don’t know what your purpose in what happened tonight is, Father God, but we do know it’s written in your plan.”
“All things work together,” I whisper without thinking. Matt hates the scripture, but it’s the only thing that’s giving me hope right now.
“As you state in Romans, Lord,” Roland adds, picking up where I leave off, “that all things work together for good to those who love you and who have been called according to your purpose.”
I lose focus on what Roland is saying as he finishes the prayer, because I’m stuck on one bit of scripture. One thorny bit I’ve never given much consideration to before, because it hasn’t mattered as much as it does in this moment.
All things work together for good to those who love God, is what the scripture says.
To those who love God …