She reached for his hand. He needed this. Lord, please comfort Drew. This was a hard lesson—
“Okay, God, I’m going to say it one more time, and then let it be. I’m sorry I didn’t obey the authority You placed over me. I see the result of my sin in the injuries, putting lives in danger. I get what You’re teaching me. May I be a better man because of it.”
“Pour Your grace over Drew. Match his feelings to the truth at the right time.”
“Amen.”
They stood and reached for each other at the same time, a natural period at the end of their conversation. She breathed in the scent of dryer sheets. Seconds passed and she relaxed her hold around Drew’s ribs, but his arms still wrapped tight around her shoulders. She stayed in the hug. His chin rested on the top of her head, warm sandpaper pressing into her scalp. Her cheek smashed against his solid chest. The thump of his heart seemed like her own. What if— No, this was Drew, who would be tormenting her as usual the next time she saw him.
He loosened his hold on her, then his arms fell away. His eyes held a hint of the Drew who called her Rainey. “Thanks.” He turned and walked off toward the jetty tossing her a wave over his head.
She watched him go feeling like she was seven and Eddie had ripped off the covers to wake her up—suddenly cold when she’d been snug and warm. She rubbed her arms and turned toward camp.
What would it feel like to hold Drew’s morning-whiskered face in her palms? It was a tactile curiosity.
#
Drew struck off toward the jetty a hundred pounds lighter after Rainey surgically removed his guilt. She only said the truth, and it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. But sometimes you needed someone to say it.
Thanks, Lord. He slurped up Rainey’s comfort in great gulps like he hadn’t had any in years—and maybe he hadn’t. What would it be like to have a friend like that in your life all the time? Had Sam been that kind of friend? He couldn’t remember. Maybe there hadn’t been any crises while they were dating.
Rainey was God’s C-clamp, inching him toward marriage, with every twist of her wrist. And she didn’t have a clue. Maybe it was her family’s fault for assuming he and Rainey were dating. Maybe the prospect of holding her in his arms again was too enticing.
He knew what he had to do. He just didn’t want to do it. Track Sam down. Ask to meet. Find out once and for all whether she was willing to revisit their relationship. If she said yes, then God had told him to marry her, and he better give it all he had. If she said no, he’d have the closure he should have gotten years ago.
For the first time he was more worried about Sam’s yes than her no.
#
A downpour sheeted against the classroom windows cutting Cal and Raine off from the world. He heard water running in the tin drainpipe on the corner of the building. The room was dark except for the shop light he’d clamped to his easel and the lamp bathing Raine in amber.
He dipped his brush in the white smear of paint on his pallet and added faint smudges of light to her face. She was staring at the window behind him—praying, he was certain. There was an other-worldly glow about her. What if it was Raine’s spirituality that attracted him? But Raine had sexuality, too. Maybe one didn’t rule out the other.
He concentrated on her face, making sure he captured the freckles dusted across her nose and the tops of her cheeks—so tiny, most people wouldn’t know they were there. He moved the easel closer to Raine.
The lashes that framed her eyes were lush, hiding the person he almost missed under the homeschool-Bible college banner. His mind flicked to Aly’s spare, pale lashes which hid nothing.
Forest green shaded with lime had worked for Raine’s eyes. He would add sparks of maize later. Now, he dotted pinpricks of white on her irises, the light that came from inside. What was it? Purity? He couldn’t label it, but he could paint it.
“Painting Raine in the rain.” His voice felt rusty from not talking all evening.
Her eyes found his. “Cute.” She went back to staring at the water he could hear sluicing down the window behind him.
The rain beat down relentlessly. It didn’t sound like it would let up till morning. For a little while he would stretch a sheet across the future so he couldn’t see the impossibility of loving Raine—a girl with fire for God and Africa when he was a guy with fire for neither.
His gut reached out to Raine, bonding with her in the silence—almost against his will. He wanted to touch her.
Funny. He’d finally held Aly, something he’d wanted to do the first few years he knew her. The steam had gone out of the experience like a hot iron on a damp cloth. After the steam quit, you had to get out of there before you got scorched.
Would Aly laugh at him if she knew he was a virgin? It was probably Mom’s fault. The chastity pep talks she gave him with annoying regularity. She’d married Dad when she was eighteen. Why was he twenty-two and still buying her rhetoric? He was a carton of milk four years past expiration. But a guy didn’t have those kinds of thoughts about a girl like Raine—at least not ones that made him feel good about himself.
Her dark hair flipped up and away from her face. He wanted to get the Godiva dark chocolate color right, the strands of black, and deep henna when the sun caught it.
“Do you mind?” He reached for her hair and rubbed it between two fingers. Coarse, like corn silk.
He stood and crossed the small space between them. “May I?” He splayed his fingers at her hairline around her face.
Her chin tilted up toward him, her eyes wide with questions he didn’t know the answers to.
He ran his fingers through her hair toward the nape of her neck. Part of his mind registered strands of her hair spooning together like couples at the beach. Other strands struck out alone, each with its own kinks and bends unique to itself. But mostly, he was caught by her full, dusty rose lips he’d taken such pains to translate into paint. They were slightly parted now as she sucked in a breath. Her cheeks filled with color, and he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to breathe. He cupped her face in his hands. He leaned closer and stopped, waiting to see if she was a girl with rules against kissing.
Raine eased her chin from his grasp and he let his hands fall, disappointment weighing him down like a chest full of medals he didn’t want to wear. He sat back on the edge of the table. The drum of the rain softened, moved on.
“You’re beautiful.” He let the air out of his lungs. “That’s the artist talking.” His eyes bored into hers. “And the man.”
Her color deepened. She looked down at her lap and back up at him. He reached out and stroked her cheek with knuckles. “Ever think about staying?”
Unshed tears sheened her eyes.
His hand dropped to his side “What are we going to do, Raine?”
The lodge screen door banged and heavy footsteps came down the hall. Drew walked in reaching for the light switch. He stopped with his hand in the air. “Oh. I thought somebody left the light on.”
Drew glanced at him. His gaze traveled to Raine and stopped. Then, he looked at the painting that was facing the doorway. He could feel the seconds tick off while Drew stared at the portrait. Like someone reading over your shoulder, he didn’t want Drew looking at Raine’s painting—ever. But it was too late now.
Drew turned around without saying a word and left. His footfalls moved down the hall, then nothing, not even the banging of the screen door against the door jam.
The sound of the rain stopped and, with it, the sense of intimacy.
Raine stood and stretched. “Let’s clean your brushes.”
#
As Cal put the last of his brushes and paints into the cupboard in his classroom, Raine stared hard at the back side of her portrait. Cal said this was the last sitting he needed, and she could see the painting next week. If she didn’t die of suspense first. And what was she going to do about that almost-kiss?
She heard a tapping on the window and looked toward the sound. Eddie. Cold fingers of fear slithere
d across her shoulders, down her arms, clamping like a vice around her chest, making her breath come in short gusts. She could feel the blood draining from her face. Her fists clenched at her sides.
Cal came up behind her and hefted the window. “Hey man. Long time no see.”
“Dude.” They slapped hands.
Raine’s mouth dropped open. Her thoughts scrambled and tumbled over each other to get out. They knew each other? Eddie was on camp property. What did he want?
“Hey, sis.”
It was Cal’s turn to be shocked. “No way!” His tone said her real estate had gone up fifty thousand dollars. Imagine, someone thought being related to Eddie was a plus.
Cal leaned against her teacher’s desk. “So, where are you hitting the waves these days?”
As the minutes ticked by, their surf talk lulled her fear. Now she only heard a string of words—pipeline, curl, inlet, swell—punctuated by rad and über.
She drifted to Cal’s almost kiss. How much longer could she resist him, now that he had feelings for her? Lord? God forgive her, but she’d wanted to kiss Cal with every fiber of her being. But now, she was oddly relieved that she hadn’t.
She sighed, and they glanced at her and returned to their conversation.
What was nagging her about Cal and Eddie turning up best buds? Eddie all but hated Drew on sight. Drew was the, “One of these things is not like the other ones,” in the Sesame Street ditty. Cal and Eddie were both surfers, but it was deeper than that. How?
The darkness Eddie always left in his wake hovered over her. She shivered. How had he found her? She’d been so careful not to tell him where she was working this summer. What if Eddie decided to lurk around camp?
Cal stood. “Later, man.” He turned to her and gave her a long look. She knew he was thinking about the kiss they almost shared.
She looked away, her face heating.
“See you, Raine.” He walked out the door.
Raine looked at Eddie sitting on the window sill like he was ready to hop out at any moment. He wasn’t afraid of her. He’d proven that all too well the night he gave her the scar. No, he was afraid of being caught—for what she didn’t want to know.
She glanced at the classroom door, an old habit—knowing the way out. “After you almost got shot, you said maybe to Teen Challenge—”
Eddie cracked his knuckles, scratched a sore on his arm, stood up, blinked. “Things have calmed down. Look, I said September First. But I need a little cash to get by.”
“Of course you do.” Disgust laced her voice. She crossed her arms and stared hard at him. “When are you going to man-up and take care of yourself?”
She pulled the ten dollar bill out of her back pocket she’d meant to buy a staff T-shirt with earlier. She tossed it on the table. “It’s all I have.” On me. “And don’t ask for more.”
She stood. “Someday, are you going to ask how I am?” She stalked out of the room without looking back. For once anger beat out fear.
#
Raine watched Drew strum his guitar in the firelight. His voice soared over the others as he led the teens in worship. This was the first time Drew had taken over campfire for Jesse. Raine was having trouble staying with the song. She kept remembering junior high, how she and her friends had fallen in love with Drew when he was worshipping.
His voice had matured since he was a teenager. Confidence had replaced his tentative guitar playing. Drew was a man who was comfortable with himself and with God. Raine shook her head to clear it. She shifted so the girl in front of her blocked her view of Drew. “God, You are so beautiful to me,” she sang with the others.
The last song quieted, and Drew read from Jeremiah twenty-nine. His voice washed over her. “God made you for a specific purpose that He’ll show you. He has a good plan for you. Trust Him. It’s a myth that if you submit to God He’ll send you to Africa—unless you’re Rainey. And she wants to go!” The kids laughed.
Now the entire camp was going to call her Rainey. Good thing she was moving to Africa.
Inside, she felt like she did when Eddie made a soccer goal when they were kids—proud to be associated with Drew. Something had changed after she comforted him.
A reflection of firelight caught her eye and she turned her head. Cal. Yellow light played on his loose hair that had fallen in his face when he bowed his head for Drew’s prayer. Cal was at campfire for the first time all summer. He was praying. Which was more than she seemed capable of doing at the moment.
The prayer ended. Cal looked up at her. All around them kids stood and stretched. Chatter sputtered, then swelled around the campfire.
She crossed the sand to where he stood. “What are you doing here?” A girl with a hank of pink hair jostled between her and Cal.
Drew caught her eye. She wanted to tell him she was proud of him, but Cal signaled her to come with him.
#
The play of firelight on Raine’s skin distracted Cal from her question. Why did he come to campfire? She waited for his answer.
“What? Can’t a guy hook up with God?”
Her dark brows shot up another quarter of an inch.
“Yeah.” He’d wanted to impress Raine, but once he got here, the cadence of the waves crashing and ebbing behind the music lulled him into détente with God. Somehow he didn’t think that would be enough for Raine.
They hiked up the beach to the seawall. “What did you think about the story Drew told about the father who got a great deal on a red bike, then dropped hints till his son was convinced he wanted a red bike for Christmas?” Cal wasn’t buying an idea that came from a guy who ogled his painting of Raine.
Raine stepped onto the seawall. “God gives us the ‘want to’ to do His will.”
Divine manipulation. Cal sat down on the bench that faced the ocean. He wasn’t getting into an argument with her tonight.
Raine sat at the other end of the short bench. “By lights out, we’ll be married on the camp grapevine.” She glanced toward the giggling girls streaming past them.
He shot a wicked smile at her. “That’s a bad thing?”
Raine opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. “Seriously, I want you to know I’m working on getting my spiritual house in order.”
Her face whipped toward him. “That’s good.” She seemed to be choosing her words. “What inspired you?”
“Actually, you did.”
“Me?”
“You’re living the life, Raine. I told you, you’re a good missionary.”
Raine looked into his eyes in the starlight like she was trying to read his mind. “Is this about last time I sat for you—the night it rained?”
“Is it a crime if I care about you?” He reached for her hand. It was warm and small in his. He rubbed his thumb across the veins in the back of her hand. Just this touch was setting off a chain reaction in his body.
Raine eased her hand out of his. “I can’t do this, even if I’d like to.”
His fingertips still touched the back of her hand. “Why not?”
“There are more things keeping us apart than pushing us together.”
“Such as?”
“Let’s walk away from it.”
“It’s too late for me to walk away.” He leaned toward her, his fingers brushing the milky skin at her wrist. “I know you care about me. I saw it in your eyes the other night. Geez, Raine, you read Sacred Hoops when you don’t like basketball.”
“Even if you get everything worked out between you and God, I’m still going to Africa. I’m ready to start my life, and…”
The pads of his fingers jerked from her skin like he’d been stung by a bug zapper. He could fill in what she didn’t say—that he didn’t know what he wanted to be when he grew up. All he wanted was the freedom to dream his own dreams for his life, not God’s or his parents’.
Raine held her palm up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you by saying that. We’re in different places in our lives. What’s wrong with co
ntinuing on as friends?”
Cal blew out his breath. “Friendship is not what I feel for you.”
“Cal—I like you—”
“And I like you. What’s wrong with going with it?”
“We’re not heading in the same direction.”
“I’m not talking about a white dress and a baby stroller. I’m talking about holding hands and taking a walk on the beach.
“Which can lead—”
“Why do we have to plan our whole lives out this minute? Can’t you chill? Enjoy the moment?”
Raine shook her head. “I can’t do it.” The words wrung out of her in a whisper.
“Do I have any choice?”
Raine gave the slightest shake of her head.
Chapter 13
Drew glanced across the last sputtering embers at Rainey and Cal sitting on the bench on the seawall as Jesse jogged toward him.
“Hey, you’re supposed to be celebrating your anniversary with your wife tonight.”
“Yeah, but she’d have to be awake for that, right?” Jesse’s tone was wry. “I’m headed for Flagler Avenue, then over the North Causeway.”
Jesse sprinted past him. He caught up and matched Jesse’s stride. They sprinted up the Flagler ramp past the hamburger and beer scent of the Breakers. Jesse wasn’t talking tonight. Fine with him. Drew had been grumpy all week—ever since he’d walked in on Cal painting Rainey. They ran past Atlantis Bistro and Gnarly Surf Bar and Grill.
Rainey’s portrait had laser-printed to his brain. Gold light washed Rainey’s face, deepening to burnt orange at the edges. Her mouth was open as though she were talking. She leaned forward over a Bible that lay open in her lap. Cal had captured her passion for teaching the Bible, the spiritual light in her eyes. Even he could see Cal’s brilliance on the canvas—down to the intricate detail in the beaded rawhide bracelet Rainey always wore.
But the thing that bugged him about the painting was the sensual quality. Most people wouldn’t notice. Maybe he imagined it. Her flowered blouse gaped slightly at the neck, and there was something about the lay of the fabric across her breasts that bothered him. Maybe he plain didn’t like the fact that Cal had stared at her body for long stretches of time.
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