Uncross My Heart by Austin, Andrews & Austin Page A

questions.
    Nonetheless I was grateful. I was feeling so ebullient over the interview and my non-role in it that I phoned her office the moment the show ended and asked Joyce to tell her I thought she did a great job and that I was still looking forward to our debate next Friday. Joyce rattled off directions to their offices, but I requested that our upcoming meeting take place on “neutral ground.” Joyce laughed and agreed to relay the message.
    Feeling inexplicably happy, I wanted to share my mood and sought out Dennis, catching up with him on a cross-campus walk.
    “So now you’ve decided I’m to prepare you for a debate with her, which is really just a private meeting,” he said.
    “Nothing with her ever stays private, so if I’m quoted I want it to be an appropriate quote.”
    “You’re not still assigned to her, though. Didn’t Hightower take you off all press matters?” He huffed as we walked, and I chose to believe it was due to his weight and not the topic.
    I sighed, somewhat exasperated. “Not before I’d already contacted her and she’d requested these weekly meetings, and I’m not about to tell her I was just a pawn and now never mind.”
    He cocked his head and scrunched up his eyebrows, as if trying to figure me out. “What are you really doing?”
    “What do you mean? I’m getting ready to protect our seminary.”
    He jutted his head forward and I hated his mimed responses.
    “Yes or no?” I ordered.
    He shifted gears sharply, playing along. “What will you say if she asks you if you believe Christ died on the cross?”
    “I would say yes, He did, but many did in those days. It was a common form of capital punishment.”
    “Did someone come and roll the stone away from His tomb?”
    “Does that matter to your faith? What if the stone had been a moat of crocodiles—does that make a difference? We are not worshipping the plot points.”
    “Do you worship Jesus Christ your Lord and Savior as the only begotten son of God, born and not made, true God of true God now and forever?” And now he wasn’t prepping me, he was asking me. A pause thick with meaning filled the air, for in essence that was the key question.
    “She won’t ask that.”
    Dennis stared deep into my soul with his piercing dark eyes.
    “You might answer it for yourself, then…simply to be thoroughly rehearsed.”
    * * *

    I floated through the following week, jumpy and nervous and completely unable to focus on anything but the upcoming Friday meeting with Vivienne. I chose a rustic lodge midway between my farm and the university. It had a nice set of small meeting rooms overlooking the deck that gave a clear view of the woods, and I picked up the tab personally for the room rate. I don’t know why I felt getting Vivienne out in the woods was paramount to our understanding one another’s views, but I did. I needed time to relax around her, be able to elaborate on my thoughts without looking at my watch or being interrupted by a student.
    I’d been nervously anticipating it all week and didn’t really know why mere conjecture about how it might go turned my stomach upside down.
    Just before I left campus Friday afternoon, Dennis strolled up to watch me pack the backseat of my Mustang with books and, of course, Ketch.
    “Hope she’s not allergic to dogs.” His parental tone stopped my sudden arm movements and froze me midair.
    “Didn’t think of that, did we, Ketch? Well, if she is, we’ll hand her a tissue.”
    “Why didn’t you just reserve a room on campus?”
    “Because ‘reserved’ here means one knock before dragging the folding chairs past you.”
    “So you want total privacy.”
    “Yes. Why are you grilling me? What are you asking?”
    “I’m asking if your interest in Vivienne Wilde is…personal.” His distrust of my motives was surfacing again. “But of course if it were personal you wouldn’t tell me, so I guess I’m merely saying, drive safely and don’t let her corner you up.”
    I