The Veritas Conflict (12 page)

Above the tree behind her, a dark being smugly moved past the force that had been obstructing him and settled into his old position.

Claire rummaged through her backpack to find the fall catalog of classes. A week ago she had highlighted several dozen classes of interest, then narrowed them down. She flipped through the pages and scanned the other candidates again. Anthropology. Well, there was that Machu Picchu class, but she’d never be able to pay for it. Biology. She already had one, and most of the others required her current introductory class as a prerequisite. Economics. Yeah, right. Maybe later, once she learned the difference between a stock and a bond.

Another few pages. Philosophy. Now there were some interesting sounding classes she hadn’t noticed before.
Existential Thought. The Gulf Between Sartre and Kant
. Huh?
Optimistic Humanism versus Nihilism
. She kept flipping.

Religion. Ah. Reading carefully through the descriptions, she felt her spirits perk up for the first time since she had walked out of the music building. She recognized most of the Christian-based subjects, and several on other religious thought—even the advanced classes. Bible Writings and Interpretations—a study of both the Hebrew Bible and the writings of it’s commentators. Monday, Wednesday, Friday at one o’clock. Perfect!

And—wow—it was an advanced class, a cross-registration class between the college and the divinity school. Wouldn’t that look great on her transcript and set her apart from so many of the other freshmen here—that she had the guts to try a graduate-level class as a freshman … in her first semester, no less!
That would be a perfect way to impress the scholarship committee. What a gift from God!

Claire scanned the short list of religion classes that students were supposed to take before being allowed into this one. Every single one sounded like a class she had taken
in high school or at the community college her senior year. She glanced at her watch. She was sure she would need to discuss this unorthodox class request with the registrar, but the office was probably closed by now. Right after her early morning biology class, she would head over there. And she’d be sure to casually mention her choice to the scholarship people.

She flopped onto her back again, looking up at the spreading arms of the tree above her, feeling pleased that she had a direction to pursue.

An acorn bounced off her backpack, and another off her foot. She sat up just in time to catch one in the back of her head.

“Hey!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Sherry stood a few feet behind the tree, laughing and clutching the remnants of her arsenal. “Care to join us for dinner?”

A large group from their freshman dorm was waiting for Sherry, chattering and laughing on their way to Annenberg, the cavernous dining room in Memorial Hall. Claire noticed that her reclusive suitemate, Mercedes, was among them. She gathered her books, and as she approached the group, she watched Sherry drop back to make a smiling comment to a male student with curly dark hair. When he turned his head, Claire saw that it was Stefan.

TEN

T
HE GROUP SETTLED AT A LONG TABLE
with their dinner trays, and after introductions were made, Claire bowed her head to give thanks. Out of the corner of her eye, she was pleased to see Sherry and one other girl, Teresa, do the same. The others didn’t join in, and there was a lull in conversation. Claire could feel them staring.

Claire felt extremely self-conscious, but when she looked up, she noticed that several of her hallmates seemed more uncomfortable than she did.

“Is there something wrong with the food?” A guy sitting across the table looked at her, puzzled. He peered at the meatloaf on his plate.

“What?”

“Is there something wrong with the food? You guys were inspecting your trays so closely—”

He was interrupted by a giggle from Teresa. “Nothing’s wrong with the food, Ben. We were just saying grace.”

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“What’s ‘saying grace’?”

“You don’t know what grace … well, it’s … urn …” She shot a glance at Claire and Sherry. “Well, it’s just … it’s praying to give thanks for the food and to ask God to bless it.”

“Oh.”

“Didn’t you ever say grace before meals at your house?” Claire asked.

“I don’t think so. No one in our family is really religious. But be my guest. Whatever works for you …”

Stefan laughed and pounded him on the back. “Ben, man, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think it’ll work for you. I don’t think even God could do anything about that cafeteria meatloaf on your plate!”

The others broke up laughing, and Claire and Teresa giggled despite themselves.

Over a small dinner table in Michigan, Barbara and Tom Rivers and their two sons bowed their heads to give thanks for their meal and to ask the Lord’s proteaion and
blessing over the family, their work, their schools, and the daughter away at Harvard. As was the family practice each took a turn. Barbara felt a stirring in her heart, a certain importance about this night, but before she could speak Tom grasped her hand tightly and began to pray. Gratitude washed over her as she listened to her husband’s earnest petitions for Claire and her new life. As Barbara joined her prayers silently to those of her husband, she realized she didn’t need to say anything.

The freshmen trooped out of the dining hall and broke up into twos and threes as they crossed under the intricate iron portico into Harvard Yard and started down the brick walkway toward their dorm. It was much quieter in the Yard. The brick buildings, oak trees, and manicured paths somehow encouraged decorum.

Claire and Sherry walked side by side, comparing notes about high school.

“Yeah, I figured you were the homecoming queen type,” Claire said. “Let me guess: captain of the cheerleading team?”

“Cocaptain, actually.”

“Oh, of course. My bad.”

“How about you?” Sherry asked. “Drill team?”

“Soccer team.”

“Well, well. A jock.”

“And choir.”

“A geek?”

“Hey!” Claire shoved her roommate, laughing despite the twisting in her gut. “Low blow!”

“So really, you didn’t do cheerleading or anything?”

“It wasn’t … my crowd.”

“Oh.” Sherry suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“I preferred to hang with the heavy-metal heads and the shop guys, you know. All that talk of transmissions and oil changes really gets me going.”

Sherry’s mouth opened slightly. “Wha—?”

“Just kidding.”

“Oh, you!”

Claire laughed. “It’s funny, looking back on it now. For years I was pretty insecure. I couldn’t relate to the cheerleader crowd and didn’t really know how to make friends.”

“No kidding? You don’t seem to have that problem now.”

“Thank God! But just you try talking about me behind my back sometime; then we’ll see how much of a problem I still have.”

Claire looked over at her roommate, trying to figure out how much to say. She
wanted to tell her how much God had changed her, how much more she liked the person she had become than the insecure, unhappy, awkward adolescent she had once been. She glanced at Sherry’s polished profile, the trendy clothes. But then, Sherry probably wouldn’t be able to relate.

“Wasn’t that funny tonight with Ben?”

“What was?” Sherry was in her pajamas, brushing her long dark hair in front of the sink, her back to Claire.

“That he didn’t know what saying grace was.”

“Well, we sometimes forget that many people in this country don’t go to church anymore. He just hasn’t had any exposure to that culture.” Sherry turned around, and her Southern accent grew heavy with sarcasm. “If he’d grown up in the Bible Belt, boy, he’d have seen people saying grace at meals … whether they meant it or not!”

Claire cleared some notebooks off her bed and crawled under the covers. “What do you mean?”

“Well, in Georgia my family always went to church every Sunday and always said grace at meals. But that didn’t stop my aunt and uncle from drinking themselves under the table not half an hour afterward, or my brother from hanging out with a bad crowd, or my daddy from carrying on with his secretary.…” She turned away.

The room was quiet for a moment, then Claire said, “It … it sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”

“Well, yeah. I guess. But no more than lots of other people. Are your parents still together?”

“Yes, thank God.” Instantly, she flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound.…” Claire took a deep breath and tried again. “It must be hard to have divorced parents. I’m just really thankful to God that mine are still together.”

“Don’t apologize. Actually, my parents aren’t divorced. They stayed together and are driving each other crazy every day. Let me tell you, I was really glad to get out of there.”

Sherry climbed the ladder to her loft, and Claire listened to the sheets rustling above her for a moment, hoping Sherry would continue. After a moment she sighed and clicked off the light.

“When I was thirteen, a friend took me to a special youth service at another church in town.” Sherry’s somewhat muffled voice floated down toward her. “I think it was a Baptist church. I walked down the aisle at the end of the night when they called everyone forward who wanted to be made new. I didn’t understand half of what the preacher said, but I knew I needed
something
different—needed to know God for real. For a few months I went to Sunday school and church with my friend, and I loved it. I was so
happy and felt so … alive, you know? But my mom and dad got more and more annoyed that I wasn’t coming to church with them and with the hassle of dropping me off at my friend’s house. They made me go back to my old church. Then my friend moved away at the end of the school year.”

When Sherry didn’t continue, Claire spoke quietly into the darkness. “Did you ever go to a good church again?”

“Not really. But there was a Bible club at school. Nothing like at your Christian school, probably. It was pretty good, when I could get there, but it usually seemed more like a Christian dating club than a Bible study. Not that that’s always bad, you know. There were quite a few cute guys to choose from.”

Claire laughed. “You do seem to have the ability to attract them. One of these days you’ll have to tell me your secret. Seriously, though, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”.

“Well … I want to find a good church. I figure if I don’t start looking now, I’ll just keep putting it off and putting it off and never do it.” She paused. Where was this idea coming from? “Would you want to join me? We could visit different churches on Sunday mornings until each of us found one we liked. It … well, it would be nice to have someone else to hold me accountable and ensure that I get my rear in gear and out of bed on Sunday mornings.”

Sherry laughed, and Claire could hear the sheets rustling above her. Suddenly, a white blob that had to be her roommate’s face peered over the side of the loft; Claire could hear the warmth in her voice. “You know what? I would never have suggested it, but I think that’s a great idea. Maybe that’ll keep me on the straight and narrow here. Thanks for asking.” The face disappeared abruptly.

Claire stared above her, a grin spreading over her face.
Thank You, Lord! You are so good to us. Help us find a church where we can be grounded in You
.

In the dark of the bedroom, Gael and Caliel exchanged thankful glances and prepared to depart. God’s message to these young women had been eagerly accepted.

As they slipped through the wall of the dorm and out into the night sky, they prayed for God’s protection over this room, these two precious young people, and the important start they had just made. They knew that others of their number were keeping regular watch over each dorm, and especially over suites such as this one where the enemy had rightful access. They couldn’t be everywhere at once, but the Spirit could.

ELEVEN

C
LAIRE SETTLED INTO HER SEAT
, smiling at a nearby girl she recognized from the first class on Monday and trying not to yawn. Introduction to Biology: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Normally students avoided the 8:00
A.M.
classes at all costs, but Claire liked biology and found the smaller class size helpful.

Professor Lyte, who appeared to be in her late forties, arrived, sipping a steaming tall coffee from C’est Bon.

Claire grinned to herself. The Starbucks outlet was closer, but she had soon discovered that few Harvard people would patronize chain stores. The day before, walking between classes, she had overheard one freshman telling another that she had ventured into the local International House of Pancakes out of curiosity but didn’t stay to eat. “It was so
pedestrian,
“the girl had said. Claire snorted in amusement. She bet that that girl bought school supplies at Wal-Mart when no one was looking.

The girl next to her leaned over and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Joanne Markowitz. Everyone calls me Jo.” She didn’t look at all like she had just rolled out of bed for an early morning class.

“Claire Rivers. Nice to meet you.” The two girls chatted briefly, watching their biology professor erase the whiteboard at the front of the room.

During the first class, Professor Lyte had seemed friendly but no pushover. She had emphasized that class participation would comprise a large part of the final grade. Claire pulled out the biology text and turned to the section about the origins of life on earth. She had highlighted several segments in her reading and penciled questions in the margins. One benefit of having gone to a Christian high school was that she had some good questions to ask about inconsistencies and holes in the standard evolutionary theory. She knew, for example, that evolutionary theorists used the same word,
evolution,
to describe two completely different concepts, making the obvious “survival of the fittest” process seem linked to the unproven theory that mutations somehow created higher life forms, when in fact the two weren’t at all related. She was relieved to have something to bring up that would provide at least
some
class participation points.