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“Sorry again for waking you up.” Ian let out a chuckle as he and Kennedy walked across campus.
“That’s all right,” Kennedy assured him while simultaneously imagining how she’d get back at Willow for making such a big deal about a simple breakfast out.
They walked in silence for a while. Kennedy wondered what Ian was thinking about. She’d run into him randomly several times so far during her time as an undergrad at Harvard, but they’d never gotten the chance to say more than a few words to each other in any given instance.
Once off-campus, they waited until it was safe to cross the street into Harvard Square. Ian suggested they walk over to L’Aroma Bakery. The thought of a buttery crusted quiche made Kennedy’s mouth water so much that she probably couldn’t have protested without drooling even if she had reason to. At least by going to L’Aroma, she could eat a quick breakfast and arrive back at her dorm in less than an hour. Plenty of time to finish grading all those lab reports. At least she hoped so, seeing as how she still couldn’t remember how many more there were left. She struggled to match Ian’s pace while keeping her balance in Willow’s platform sandals. Once they made it to the other side of the street, he slowed down and gave her a gentle smile. “Guess it’s been a rough week for you, hasn’t it?”
Maybe it was because he was a member of the press or maybe because Kennedy didn’t know him all that well, but she still wasn’t sure how much she should trust someone like Ian. On the one hand, he’d helped out in the past when she’d found herself in difficult situations, but there was so much she didn’t know about him. And yet, it always seemed as if he knew everything about her.
“Yeah,” she agreed, “I can definitely say I’ve had easier weeks this semester.” She realized she hadn’t asked Willow for any updates on Carl’s condition. She also realized she’d left her phone back in her room.
“You’re a junior now, right?” Ian asked.
“Right.”
“Still premed?”
“Yeah.” Kennedy already regretted letting her roommate talk her into this. Now that the fresh air and sunshine had revived her, she was able to remember the details of Ian’s phone call yesterday and knew with almost a hundred percent certainty that even though he’d mentioned breakfast, they’d never actually made any sort of formal agreement.
Thankfully, L’Aroma Bakery was only a few minutes’ walk away. It was crowded as usual, but they found a table in the corner that offered some privacy.
“Order anything you’d like,” Ian told her. “Or we can split something. My treat.” He smiled at her, and Kennedy noticed a dimple right in the middle of his chin. She tried not to blush when she recalled what a big deal Willow had made about their time out together. If it hadn’t been for that, Kennedy could treat this interview just like anything else, something to check off her to-do list before she moved on to her next assignment. But now that Willow had filled her head with all her dramatic sighs and reminiscences about the magic of first dates and romantic breakfasts, Kennedy was jittery even before the waitress came and filled her mug with coffee.
This isn’t a date, Kennedy reminded herself as Ian asked about her semester.
This isn’t a date, she repeated when the waitress brought a platter full of fruit and a giant omelet, which Ian split before setting one half in front of her.
This isn’t a date. She glanced at her nearly empty plate and realized she and Ian had been talking about their respective times in East Asia and at Harvard, but that he hadn’t asked her a single question about her article by the time the server came back with the bill.
He reached into his pocket.
“You sure you don’t want me to pitch in?” Kennedy asked.
He smiled, revealing that boyish dimple. How had she not noticed it before? “No, thank you. It’s one of the perks of being freelance.” He pulled out his credit card and set it on top of the receipt.
Kennedy gave him a quizzical look.
“Tax write-off,” he explained and then frowned. “Oh, that sounded bad. I’m sorry.”
She smiled reassuringly. “No, don’t apologize or anything. It’s just that when you called yesterday and said you wanted to talk, I was expecting it would be about the article.”
“You’re right. My bad. I just have a real hard time jumping straight into work, especially before I’ve had any caffeine.” He finished off his second cup of coffee. “Tell you what. The weather is fantastic out there. Care to take a walk around Harvard Square?”
Kennedy wished Willow were here so she could kick her under the table with her stupid high-heeled sandals. She wiped her face with her napkin, still trying to figure out why she felt let-down after such a delicious breakfast and interesting conversation. As it turned out, Ian was as involved in the North Korean refugee crisis in China as her parents were, although in a far more public way. While her parents helped harbor refugees in secret, Ian documented the many human rights abuses on both sides of the Chinese-North Korean border. He traveled to the region nearly every year collecting interviews which would eventually be compiled into a full-length documentary. He’d even gone into North Korea twice to collect illegal footage for his project.
“My magnum opus,” he’d called it. “At least my first,” he added with a jocular twinkle in his green eyes.
They stepped outside into the fresh air. Fall was in no hurry this year. The leaves on the trees had just started to lose their first hint of chlorophyll, and if all she had to judge by was the chirping of the birds, Kennedy might have guessed it was the middle of May.
Ian’s pace was slow, and she tried not to think about those lab reports she still needed to grade. She’d started them last weekend. She knew she’d gotten through at least the first four or five, hadn’t she? What time was it, anyway? She hated not having her phone on her. What if Sandy was trying to call? What if there was more news about Carl?
She thought it was strange that the subject of her pastor’s accident hadn’t come up all morning. She didn’t know if it was on the news at this point, but St. Margaret’s was one of the largest churches in Cambridge and had already been in the limelight because of the upcoming Truth Warriors conference. The entire state of Massachusetts probably knew more about Carl’s condition than she did.
“You ever been in that little coffee shop over there?” Ian pointed across the street.
“No. It looks nice.” Had she ever noticed it before? She should come up with a way to tell him she had to get back to campus soon. All those lab reports ...
“There’s this coffee place in Tumen, not too far from where your parents live,” Ian said. “Run by Canadian missionaries. Nicest people you’d ever meet.” His voice trailed off.
Kennedy tried to think of a way to steer the conversation toward her massive to-do list for the day. When had she gotten this tongue-tied? She cleared her throat. “So, listen, about our interview ...”
“Right.” Ian’s pace sped up the faster he talked. Another twenty minutes like this, and Kennedy’s feet might never recover. He looked across the street one more time. “So, any chance you’ve got room for one more cup of coffee?”
Kennedy wished she could tell him she’d love to, but schoolwork had to come first. And Carl. How could she have gone all morning without trying to find out how he was? How calloused could she be? She took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s been really fun, but I honestly wasn’t expecting it to last this long. I’ve got class before long, and I still have a bunch of reports to grade.”
“Really?” His eyes lit up. “Are you a TA? For what? No, you can tell me later. I’m sorry. I should have been paying more attention to the time. Do you really have to go back so soon? I was hoping to ask you a few questions ...”
“I know.” She hated feeling like she was letting him down. She glanced at the little beatnik coffee shop across the street. “Maybe we can get that coffee another morning?”
Ian smiled. “Deal. And in the meantime, you’ll let me walk you back to campus and ask a few questions about your article on the way, right?”
“Sure.”
They turned around when Ian’s phone rang. “Oh, I better see who that is. Might be for work.” He took his cell out of his pocket and squinted at the screen. “Are you calling me?” he asked.
“What?”
He showed her his phone. “This is your number. At least, that’s what caller ID says.”
Kennedy shook her head. “I left my cell back at the dorm.”
He answered his cell. They were almost back to L’Aroma Bakery where they’d spent their morning talking about nothing. About everything.
Ian frowned. He had such expressive features. “Kennedy? Yeah. She’s here. Who’s this?”
She didn’t realize that Ian had stopped walking until she nearly bumped into him.
“Sure.” His eyes softened. Was he worried? Sad? “Ok, here she is.” He held out his phone. “It’s your roommate. Something about your pastor.”
Kennedy held her breath and had to remind herself that a simple piece of electronics couldn’t physically hurt her. She took Ian’s cell phone, placed it against her ear, and croaked, “Hello?”
Willow’s voice on the other line was breathless. “Kennedy. Thank God I got hold of you. Do you know how many searches you get when you google red-haired journalists in Cambridge? It took me forever just to track down Ginger’s name, and then I had to find him on your phone, and after that ... oh, never mind. Sandy called. It’s bad news.”
Kennedy steadied herself against a newspaper stand. “How bad?”
“Really bad,” Willow answered. “I mean, no, not that bad. I mean, he’s not ... you know, he isn’t ... He’s still at the hospital. But they got him stable enough that the doctors wanted to do an MRI, you know, to assess how bad the damage was to his brain.”
Kennedy wanted to propel herself through time and get to the part of the call when Willow actually told her what was wrong. “And?”
Willow sniffed. “I couldn’t understand all the medical details. Sandy called because she thought maybe you could help explain it to her.”
“Explain what?” Kennedy turned so she didn’t have to look at Ian, but she could still feel the worry and compassion from his gaze. This wasn’t his conversation. He didn’t know Carl. Wasn’t close to him like Kennedy was.
On the other line, Kennedy heard what sounded like paper rustling. What was Willow doing?
“Ok, here’s what Sandy said. The MRI showed several different types of hemorrhaging, and then there was something about swelling, and the bottom line is she says the doctors aren’t sure he’s ever getting off that ventilator.”