Until now.
“Dan has been amazingly supportive. I think …” Kennedy pauses, causing me to look over at her. Her eyes fall for a moment, eyebrows scrunching in as if working out a problem for the first time. Finally, she looks up and continues. “I think that he has more in common with Roland than me or my mother do. He’s a father, and I think he understands something about what Roland might be feeling, or has felt over the past eighteen years. It’s given him a perspective of heart that none of the rest of us can have.”
A lump forms in my throat. I’ve only met Dan Sawyer once in person, and only just learned that he was the author of the letter that set the stage for changing my life, but Kennedy is spot on. In the wisdom that’s far beyond her years, I sense deep in my own heart that as a father, Dan was able to reach out to me in a way no one else would have been able to.
Greg smiles warmly, a smile that finally reaches his eyes as he stares at my daughter in slight wonder. “You’re an incredible young woman, Ms. Sawyer. A lot of people in your position might run and hide or use their new found fame to promote an agenda, but that doesn’t seem to be your goal.”
“No,” she answers calmly. “ It’s not. My goal is to learn where I came from and decide where I want to go. Running won’t fix that.”
My eyes volley back and forth, following their conversation. Repressing the urge to dash in and save her, I sit back. Kennedy doesn’t seem to need saving in this moment.
“Your father and this school—Carter University—they’re quite different from the Episcopalian churches you’ve attended in your life. In form and function.”
“They are.”
“What do you think about all of it?”
Kennedy huffs a slight chuckle out of her nose and grins. “There’s a lot to think about. And, for now, that’s all I’m doing. Taking it all in.”
“No doubt you have friends and roommates who have far more conservative opinions than you do.”
She shrugs. “Sure. The same can be said for any of my friends.”
Greg’s eyes move wildly across Kennedy’s face, as if growing frustrated that he can’t make her say the wrong thing. Whatever he perceives to be the wrong thing.
“So,” he presses, “what becomes of your friendships when you’re seated across the political aisles from them? I see you’ve got some pretty impressive activist work under your belt for such a young person. Marriage rights rallies, reproductive rights marches … your mother is just as well known in these progressive circles as Roland is in the evangelical community.”
“I suppose so.” She takes a deep breath. “As to what happens to the friendships? If they’re based in love, Mr. Mauer, we’ll be able to learn something from each other, I’d hope, and policy will unify us rather than destroy us. Isn’t that what Jesus preached the most about? Love?”
Check mate.
Greg shifts his gaze to mine and adjusts his position. “Let’s switch gears here for a moment.”
Because you’re not getting the sensational story you’d hoped for?
“Roland. You live and breathe a biblical, fundamental way of life. Your daughter was raised in one of the most liberal political hotspots in the United States. What influence do you hope to have on her life?”
Though she’s in another room, I swear I can hear Wendy’s teeth grind together. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Kennedy close her eyes for a moment, as if she’s saying a quick prayer. I don’t have enough time to decipher what she might be praying about. Though, an educated guess would lead me to believe she just doesn’t want me to embarrass her. She is still a teenager, after all.
Still, I’m on television, and I’m an honest man. I have to give an honest answer.
“To tell you the truth, Greg, I want to have as little influence on her as possible. I want God to be the ultimate influencer in her life, and if she needs me to guide her along the way, I’ll be happy to do that.”
He sits forward. “But you admit you want to influence that God takes center stage in her life?”
With a calm smile, I instinctively reach out and take Kennedy’s hand. She tenses at first but relaxes, gripping my hand back. Eyeing her as I answer the interviewer, I give her hand a tight squeeze. “Yes. I absolutely want God to be the center of her life. Before her mom, her friends, or me. I want God to be number one. At all times.”
Kennedy’s eyes widen, and before I know it, her hand slips out of mine and joins the other one on her lap.
While the cameras are still rolling.
CHAPTER TEN
Heavy in Your Arms
Kennedy.
All I want to do is get the hell out of here and go to class.