In This Moment Page 11

  Yes, he and the kids missed her. They still talked about her and laughed at things she used to say. But they weren’t without hope. One day they would all be together again, as a family.

  Of course, the logistics of being a single dad to young children hadn’t been easy. God had been good to provide a constant help in Joanna’s mother. She had sold her house and moved in with them—taking the role of Joanna in raising the kids and tending to their daily needs.

  Wendell had thrown himself into an even stronger faith—making sure he had his daily morning talks with the Lord, and doing everything in his power to live out his faith in the hallways of Hamilton High.

  It was there that he first met Alicia Harris.

  In the early years after Joanna’s accident, Alicia became his friend. She would stop by his office and talk to him about the happenings of the high school. They would walk to the baseball field and sit in the bleachers, and eventually the conversations grew deeper. Especially after Joanna’s mother died of cancer, leaving Wendell once again on his own with the children.

  In their conversations, Wendell told Alicia about Joanna, how the two of them had fallen in love and about Joanna’s strong belief in God. Alicia would listen, and once in a while she would admit something Wendell only suspected. “I wish I believed the way Joanna did.”

  Alicia was eight years younger than Wendell. She had spent her early teaching career helping her sick parents, and along the way she had missed out on the dating years. She had once dreamed of having children, but not anymore.

  As Alicia and Wendell grew closer, Alicia admitted something to Wendell during one of their talks. Something she had never said before.

  “You know what makes me most afraid?” It was a winter day, snow piled a foot high across the baseball field.

  “What’s that?” Wendell angled his body so he could see her eyes. He could feel himself being drawn to her, pulled in by her kind heart and deep beauty. Her skin was a light brown, her complexion smooth as silk. The smell of her perfume filled his senses.

  Alicia hesitated, as if by saying the words the reality might somehow be worse. “I’m afraid of being alone.” Her expression grew sad, sadder than Wendell had ever seen before. “My parents are gone. I have no family.” She shrugged. “Sometimes I ask God . . . is this all there is for me?”

  And in that moment Wendell felt his feelings for Alicia deepen. Before he could stop himself, he had reached for her hand. “You won’t be alone.” He looked intently into her eyes. “You have me. You always will.”

  But in the end that hadn’t been true. His decision to lead the Raise the Bar club had driven her away.

  He looked at the clock on his desk and stood. It was time to head to school, time to face another day without Alicia. Maybe that was all this was, the bad feeling stirring in his soul. Maybe he was just feeling afraid, the way Alicia had felt back then. Not because someone might fire him or throw him in jail for talking about Jesus on a public school campus.

  But because—once his children were grown—he might spend the rest of his days alone.

  10

  Cami was terrified to go to school, but she had no choice. Her sisters had gone to stay with an aunt across town. Until the trial was over, their father had said. So the twins wouldn’t be a part of the media circus that was bound to come. Already Cami had seen more people than usual driving by their house. A few of them definitely had cameras.

  So her sisters were safe. But Cami still had to go to Hamilton High. She couldn’t stay away forever. She thought for a minute. Maybe no one at school knew yet. Could it be she’d only imagined her father’s phone call? Maybe he hadn’t called the press. He could’ve been talking to one of his friends from the airport.

  But as Cami stepped off the bus and headed through the front doors of Hamilton High that morning, she was sure she was only kidding herself. Of course her father had made the call. He had contacted the newspaper, and sometime today everything about her life was going to fall apart.

  And not just her life, the life of Principal Quinn.

  Before she got halfway down the hall to her locker, Cami saw Jordy round the corner with a group of football players. She stopped and waited until he saw her. At the same time, the guys gave Jordy a slight shove, the group of them laughing.

  “Don’t talk too long,” one of them said. “Can’t miss history class. Coach’ll bench you for sure.”

  “I’ll be there.” Jordy grinned and gave the guys an elbow in return. These were his teammates and friends. Close friends. Some of the players who had been attending the Raise the Bar meetings for most of the past year.

  Normally Cami would’ve stepped into the conversation and asked them how practice was going. She would’ve said something about the Friday night football game. But this morning she was too afraid to do anything but stand there. Silent. Waiting.

  Jordy walked up to her and searched her expression. “Cami?” His smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

  She wanted to tell him, wanted to share every horrible thing about her father and last night. But class was about to start and besides . . . what if nothing came of it? Maybe this morning the reporter would forget he or she had ever talked to Cami’s father. “Nothing.” She tried to smile, but it felt flat.

  “That’s not true.” He squinted at her, angling his head like he was trying to see past her words. “You look scared to death.”

  “No.” A single laugh escaped her lips. But it sounded forced. “We have that history test.” She nodded to the classroom down the hall. “Remember?”

  “You’ve aced every history test you’ve ever taken.” He lowered his brow, still clearly confused. “Something’s wrong, Cami.”

  “No. Everything’s fine.” For now, she told herself. It was fine for now. Her blond hair was pulled back in a single long braid, the way she liked it these days. She smoothed out the ends and suddenly she did something she hadn’t planned on doing. She reached for his hand. Everything was going to change after this. Jordy would hate her for what was about to happen. For her father’s decision. She took a step away from him. “Come on. We can’t be late.”

  The feeling between them was electric. This was the first time their hands had touched this way.

  Their fingers locked together as they hurried down the hall toward history class. And Cami had a very distinct, very sickening thought. If the reporter acted on what her father had said, if Principal Quinn was arrested later today, then this might be the last time she and Jordy would ever be so close.

  In fact it might be the last time they ever spoke. Because after today Jordy wouldn’t merely be finished being her friend.

  He would hate her.

  • • •

  THE BAD FEELING stayed with Wendell as he arrived at his office and long after the first bell rang. He couldn’t figure out just what was causing it, but the uneasiness was there.

  Wendell spent the first hour walking the halls of Hamilton High, checking into each classroom. All seemed well. As was the trend recently, most desks were filled with students. The teachers seemed happy, and in each room a productive lesson was under way.

  So what was the problem?

  He returned to his office, sat at his desk and tried to grab a full breath. But his chest muscles felt too tight. God, give me peace today. Something isn’t right. Go before me, please.

  It occurred to him then, that he hadn’t had time to read his Bible this morning. He had spent the time remembering Joanna. And thinking about Alicia. Yes, he’d talked to God. That was a constant every day for Wendell. But he hadn’t opened the Bible. That had to be it. The bad feeling was simply him missing the Word of God today.

  Wendell kept a Bible on his desk and he opened it up to 2 Chronicles. It was a chapter he’d read and loved before. Much of it was highlighted and underlined.

  He felt himself drawn into the text. Chapter twenty was about a battle the Israelites were in, but it was the last part that captured Wendell’s attention. He
read verse 17 twice over. You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the LORD will give you. . . . Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the LORD will be with you.

  The deliverance of the Lord.

  A truth Wendell always tried to remember. He had scribbled something in the margin next to the text. A date—first day of school a year ago. Back then the words had meant something very clear to Wendell. His students had been under siege from the culture. Gang killings, crime, suicide, depression. A lack of achievement and desire to excel. God’s Word had literally provided the answer then. The students were winning now, Wendell, too.

  So what was this feeling inside him? And how come the message in 2 Chronicles seemed almost cryptic? Like he ought to again pay particular attention to the words? Wendell closed his Bible just as the phone in his office buzzed. He answered it on the second ring. “Principal Quinn. How can I help you?”

  There was the slightest hesitation on the other end. “Is this Wendell Quinn?” The voice belonged to a woman. Her words came in a sharp staccato. She sounded fierce.

  “Yes.” Wendell leaned forward in his chair. “This is he.” The three presentation folders were on his desk. He glanced at his Bible.

  The woman drew a sharp breath. “I’m a reporter from The Indianapolis Star. Last night we received a call from the parent of one of your students, telling us about a Bible club that meets at your school two days a week.” She barely paused. “Is this true?”

  Wendell stood and paced to his office door and back. His mind raced. “The club is voluntary. The students choose whether to attend or not.”

  She seemed to ignore that. “Our understanding is that you run the club, is that right, Mr. Quinn?”

  “I run it, yes.” His heart beat hard against his chest. He was ready for this. But that didn’t make the moment any easier. “Again, it’s voluntary.”

  “How many students would you say attend the club, Mr. Quinn?” She barely gave him time to finish his sentence before firing the next question.

  “It varies.” He returned to his desk and pulled out his presentation folder. His hands shook as he looked at it. In This Moment. His coach’s words came back to him. What good can you do in this moment? He tried to grab a full breath.

  “Mr. Quinn?” She sounded beyond impatient.

  “Hold on.” He thumbed through the folder.

  He needed to share some of the quotes he’d gathered, quotes from the founding fathers. Or let her have a copy of the independent report, the one done by AnnaMae Williams. “Our school is a better place since we started the club. I could give you—”

  “Mr. Quinn, the Star will run a story on this matter in the next few hours. Do you have anything you’d like to say, anything we should include?”

  Wendell felt like he was slipping through a dark hole. “You can’t run this story now. It’ll ruin everything.”

  “Is that your final statement?” She sounded angry and impatient. Like she didn’t have time for his thoughts.

  “No.” Panic slapped him in the face. “First of all, which parent called you?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.” Her answer sounded rehearsed. “I need to know if that’s your final statement, Mr. Quinn.”

  “No.” His frustration grew. “That’s not my statement. What I’m saying is, I have a lot to add to the story. You need to come to my office and I’ll explain why we started the program. I can show you what’s happened since.”

  “There’s no time for that, Mr. Quinn.” She huffed, as if she was completely put out at how Wendell was wasting her minutes.

  “This is my statement, then.” Wendell was pacing, again. How could he quickly sum up what had happened at his school? “Since our Bible program began, since our students have been praying, we’ve seen miraculous results at Hamilton High. God has heard our prayers and met us where we are. We are a different student body because of Him.”

  As soon as the call ended, Wendell tried to remember exactly what he’d said to the reporter. He called his secretary, Ellen Boggs, into his office. “We may . . . be getting other calls from reporters today. I’d like you to put them all straight through to me.”

  Ellen nodded, her eyes the slightest bit fearful. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” Wendell nodded. “Yes, it is. There’s just . . . there’s some interest in our Raise the Bar program. That’s all.”

  It didn’t take long for Wendell to realize how wrong he was. Saying the media had some interest in Hamilton High’s Bible study program was like saying North Korea had some interest in taking over the world.

  The Indianapolis Star’s article ran online exactly two hours after the reporter’s call to Wendell. And immediately Wendell’s office phone began to ring. Ellen put the calls through and Wendell said the same thing to every one of them. Yes, the program had been meeting for a year. Of course attendance was voluntary. Yes, he’d been running the program. And sure, he definitely believed God was working a miracle in their midst.

  Over and over and over again.

  He took calls from the Dispatch in Ohio and the Free Press in Michigan. Reporters from Illinois and Kentucky and Oklahoma called, and nightly news programs contacted Wendell from stations throughout the Midwest.

  By two o’clock, something else began to happen.

  Local ABC, CBS, NBC, and Fox News vans pulled up in front of the school. Reporters attempted to come onto campus, but Wendell met them at the entrance. “This is a closed campus,” he told them. “You do not have permission to be here, and you may not talk to our students.”

  By the time Wendell returned to his office, Jordy was waiting for him. He looked like he was about to pass out. “Dad . . . what’s happening? Hamilton High is trending on Twitter.”

  Wendell wasn’t sure what that meant, but it couldn’t be good. “Some parent called The Indianapolis Star about our Bible study program.”

  “Why?” Jordy’s anger was instant. “They don’t want us to raise the bar? They want us shooting each other and doing drugs and failing out of school?” He dropped his backpack on the floor of Wendell’s office and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Listen to this.” He held up the phone. “Principal Quinn said that God has heard the prayers of the school. We are a different student body because of Him.”

  Jordy stared at Wendell. “As if that’s a bad thing?” He huffed. “What are we going to do?”

  Wendell had no idea. Outside his window another news van pulled up. The media that had arrived earlier were setting up cameras and reporters just off school property. When the final bell rang, in less than an hour, the press would be ready. Wendell turned to his son and held out his hand.

  Whatever fear and frustration was coursing through Jordy, making him angry and coloring the tone of his voice, it faded in that moment. Wendell came close and took his hand.

  “Let’s ask God what we’re supposed to do.” Wendell felt an otherworldly calm come over him. “I don’t see any other way through this.”

  Jordy nodded. The hint of a smile eased his expression. “I knew you’d say that.”

  “Yes.” Wendell looked at his son for a few seconds. “We’ll get through this, Jordy. We will.” He prayed then, that God would protect the students at Hamilton, and the program he’d started. “Lord, don’t let one student be dissuaded from attending the Raise the Bar club, but bring others into our midst because of whatever happens here today. And we ask for Your protection through it all. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Amen.” Jordy hugged him, the way he used to when he was a little boy. When he pulled back, the concern was still strong in his eyes. “It’s trending on Facebook, too.”

  “That’s what you said about Twitter. Trending?” Wendell shook his head. “When we get home, maybe you can show me what that means.”

  That night Jordy tried to explain it. By then the story was on the home page of Fox News. Wendell couldn’t possibly
read all the comments under the hashtag #HamiltonHigh, but the ones he did read were dramatically mixed.

  Some people applauded him, but most wanted his head on a platter. They called him a right-wing racist, forcing his religious babble on the hearts and minds of innocent kids. Wendell wondered if they knew he was black. Could a black man be considered racist for believing in God? He wasn’t sure, but anything seemed possible in today’s culture.

  One thing was certain. Based on their posts, the majority of people shouting at him on social media seemed to hate God even more than they hated Wendell Quinn. Eventually Wendell had to walk away from the computer and fix dinner for the kids. Spaghetti and acorn squash. Leah’s favorite.

  When they were all around the table, Wendell looked at the kids, one at a time. “You’ve heard what’s happening in the media. With Hamilton High?”

  “Yes.” Darrell, the youngest, had looked frightened ever since he got home from school. “Everyone’s mad at you. Right, Daddy?” Tears welled in his eyes. “That’s what my teacher said.”

  Was it possible that they were talking about the news even at Darrell’s junior high? Wendell made a note to call the school’s principal the next day. Neighboring teachers didn’t need to stir the concerns of the students. The news was definitely doing that for them. Wendell set down his fork. “They aren’t mad at me, Darrell. They’re mad at God.”

  “What did God do to them?” Alexandria was clearly trying to be brave. But now that they were finally talking about it as a family, tears fell onto her cheeks, too.

  “Well.” Wendell drew a deep breath. “God doesn’t care if those people are angry with Him. But He wants them to bring their anger to Him. Pray about it or talk about it. Not spread rumors on social media.”

  Leah took a bite of her squash and stayed quiet.

  “Hamilton is still trending on Facebook and Twitter.” Jordy held up his phone. “You should hear this one, Dad.”

  “No, Son.” Wendell raised his brow. “Put your phone away. Not during dinner.”

  Jordy looked surprised, but he slipped his phone back in the pocket of his jeans.