Kicking Eternity

by Ann Lee Miller

  “Amazing.”

  “You’re amazing.” His voice was reverent and it pressed down on her like layers and layers of quilts. “Hey, my folks are going to be gone all day tomorrow to Ocala for a district conference. They want to know if we can come over tonight.”

  “You talked to your parents already this morning?” She was buying time. Lord, what do you want me to do? Drew had asked for guidance for today.

  Cal laughed. “Yeah, Mom ‘bout fainted.”

  “I’m committed to elementary campfire, but I’ll be free after that.” Drew had handled the campfire for a month without her, he could do alone tonight. But she loved counseling the kids afterward and helping Drew with his talks. This was the right decision.

  If Cal was disappointed, he swallowed it. Picking up the canvas with one hand, he stepped toward her.

  Please, please don’t touch me. She was still on overload from last night. And Drew’s kiss.

  He stopped in front of her, and she could see the exhaustion in his eyes—exhaustion that felt like the too-expensive roses the greasy-haired neighbor kid bought her with his paper route money in sixth grade. She’d never asked for his devotion.

  “I’ll pick you up from campfire, then.” He held her eyes for a moment longer. “Africa is sounding better all the time.” He turned, and walked out the door.

  #

  The sugary sand burned the soles of Raine’s feet as she marched toward the inlet. Eddie said he’d be here. She sloshed ankle-deep into the water and looked for Eddie among the die-hard surfers bobbing in the flat waves. No Eddie.

  Her stomach knotted. She hated this lonely stretch of beach Eddie’s crowd favored. This was where that creep had tried to get her into his van. She tugged her visor down on her forehead. She’d had self-defense class since then. She knew she was less vulnerable if she walked like she had a purpose. And, boy, did she.

  There he was, leaning against a boulder at the inlet.

  “What’s up?” Eddie was in his usual surf trunks. He crossed his sand-caked feet at the ankles and folded his arms across his chest.

  She gave him her usual once over. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were blood shot through his sun glasses. His ribs were a washboard thin under a coat of sand. He wasn’t twitching today. Good.

  “Money’s come up missing from the camp office.”

  “So?”

  “You took it.”

  “I haven’t been anywhere near your stinkin’ camp. I’ve been working up at the other end of the beach scraping barnacles off the hull of Boston Whaler. Guy paid me crap, too.”

  Eddie was a liar. A good one. And a thief. No one ever confronted him, and now she wished she hadn’t. He sounded so sane.

  “Listen to me. If you ever want to get another cent from me, stay away from the camp. I don’t care whether you stole that money or not. Stay away from Triple S.”

  “I don’t have to put up with this—”

  She winced at the word he spat at her. “Just stay away from the camp.”

  “I love you, too, Sis.” He stalked up into the dunes.

  She turned back toward town, small in the distance, feeling utterly alone.

  #

  Drew dropped an armful of kindling on the sand beside the fire circle. “Let me get this straight.” He looked up at Rainey. “You’ve never been to Africa?”

  He’d been an idiot kissing Rainey this morning. Tension popped between them like pine sap on the fire.

  “Was there something in the rulebook I missed?” She handed him a bundle of thin sticks to start the fire with. “I have to visit Africa before God can call me there?”

  “I’m surprised.”

  “My folks raised three kids on a teacher’s salary. All the money I earned went to my college, and lately to a one-way ticket to Entebbe.”

  “And to Eddie.”

  Rainey spun toward him. “Since when is my call and what I spend my money on your concern?”

  He knew he should shut up, but this had been bugging him. He might not get another chance to say it before she bought her ticket. “Are you going to Africa to run away from Eddie?”

  Rainey dropped her armload of logs smack on top of his carefully constructed newspaper and stick teepee he was going to use to light the fire. “Somebody better give Sam a head’s-up on your dictatorial side. Oh, maybe she already noticed.” She strode away, her shoulders as stiff as the logs criss-crossing the crushed teepee in the fire pit.

  He pulled logs out of the pit and stacked them with the others in angry precision. He’d done Rainey a favor pointing out her faulty motivation for Africa and her enabling. And she turned around and knifed him in the gut about Sam. He sure picked the wrong person to tell about Sam.

  And how was he supposed to lead campfire in half an hour? Anger percolated under his skin as he gathered the wadded newspaper into a pile and leaned sticks against it one by one. He stood and kicked the whole mess.

  He stalked toward the shore. The water cooled his ankles. He bent and splashed the salty wetness onto his face. Lord, I need some help here.

  Seeing Rainey with Cal last night had made him crazy. Made him kiss her when she was vulnerable—which led to tonight’s blow-up.

  God help him, but he wasn’t sorry for that kiss.

  He strode toward the shed, the direction she’d taken. When he came around the corner of the building, he found her crying into her knees, big sobs that shook her body.

  His hand went to her shoulder, but she shook him off. He sat down on the sand beside her. “Rainey, I’m sorry. Sorry for fighting. I was in a bad mood.”

  She gradually quieted, but didn’t raise her head. “But you don’t think I should give Eddie money,” she said into her knees. “You think I’m running away from Eddie to Africa.”

  “This is about the kiss.”

  Rainey’s head jerked up. Her face was smeared with tears, her eyes red-rimmed. And he felt like a total jerk.

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’ve got to deal with Sam. You’ve got to sort things out with Cal. I put us both on edge. Will you forgive me?”

  “But you still think—”

  “It’s between you and God. Not my business. Come on, say you forgive me.” He put a hand on her arm. “Please.”

  Rainey turned toward him, curling into his chest. He gathered her to him. Oh God, that he could hold her forever.

  But he wasn’t making the same mistake twice. “Let’s pray.” Drew eased her away from him and held out his hand. They leaned back against the shed and prayed for the campfire till the sun slipped a notch in the sky and they heard children’s voices coming up the road.

  He would Facebook Sam tonight.

  Chapter 18

  Cal sat in his ‘89 Celebrity Wagon and drummed his fingers against the chalky paint under the surfboard racks. In the distance, Raine bowed her head as though she were praying over a boy in a Spiderman T-shirt that looked older than the kid was. The boy lifted his head and wiped one eye with the back of his wrist. Raine hugged him. Nearby, a girl slapped Drew high five and took off after her cabin mates.

  Drew shared something with Raine he didn’t—ministry. That torqued him, but what could he do about it? He was barely holding together his newfound spirituality, much less helping anyone else.

  Twenty minutes later, Dad lumbered out of his easy chair to shake Raine’s hand. Mom stretched an arm out to Raine, an arabesque. Mom’s jean capris and oversized T-shirt made her look ten years younger than Dad who had gone grey sometime when Cal wasn’t looking.

  Dad launched the inquisition, and Cal settled into the couch cushions to enjoy the show. He should have brought Raine home weeks ago. This was going to be better than the last time he brought home straight A’s—in fifth grade.

  “This is a treat, Cal bringing a girl home,” Dad said. “So, what are you going to do with your degree?”

  Cal squeezed Raine’s hand where it lay on the sofa between them.

  “I’m going to Africa to tea
ch orphans the Bible.”

  Dad’s brows lifted a fraction. And Mom fumbled and nearly dumped a plate of brownies into Raine’s lap. He kept the smile from his face. What had Mom expected, a surfer girl who went by the name of Thrasher?

  Mom’s face broke into a smile like she’d been saved for the second time.

  He clunked his feet on the coffee table beside a stack of Mom’s Dance Magazines and slid his arm around Raine. He listened to Mom and Dad pull out the pieces of Raine’s story like magicians’ scarves, each more beautiful than the last.

  Raine got up to help Mom clear away the dishes.

  “So, Cal, you quit running?” Dad’s voice knifed through his euphoria.

  Running from God, Dad meant. He never should have let Raine get out of the room. He sat up, his parents’ expectations jumping on his back like a camp kid clamoring for a piggyback. Mom was all about how things looked on the outside. But he’d forgotten Dad’s laser beam into his soul.

  “We’ve been talking.”

  “You and Raine?” Dad wasn’t going to let him fudge on this one.

  “Me and God.”

  “Oh?”

  He threw Dad a bone. “Scriptures I learned as a kid are coming back.” Let’s hope that satisfies him. He didn’t want his fledgling faith dissected, especially in front of Raine. He could hear the water running in the kitchen and snipets of Raine and Mom’s conversation.

  Dad rubbed his chin. “Is this ‘talking’ to please Raine?”

  So much for not getting dissected. “I’m going in the direction you want me to go. Leave it at that.”

  “Remember Jonah.”

  How could he forget? Dad had it in his head he was running from God’s “call” like Jonah had. It was always like this. No matter what spiritual strides he took, they were never enough. What was the point in moving toward God when it only meant amping up the pressure?

  Raine and Mom walked back into the room, and he let his breath out. “We have to get back to camp.” He stood.

  Mom’s eyes shot to his.

  Not tonight. Dad had taken his shots at him, and he wasn’t in the mood for Mom’s. He didn’t need her harping about his standby job at Stoney’s Tattoo, his hair and his church attendance.

  Raine’s opinion was the one he had to worry about.

  Cal shook his father’s hand, focusing on the crease at the bridge of his nose instead of the love and longing in his eyes. Mom handed him a Chinet plate of brownies covered in aluminum foil. He kissed her cheek.

  As they got into the car, Raine nailed him with a look. “What’s wrong?”

  Cal looked away. “Talk to me about Africa.”

  #

  Raine woke up to scratching on the screen. Aly moved on the bunk overhead.

  “Al.” It was a whisper.

  Raine could picture Aly up on one elbow looking out the screen at whoever it was. Aly slid down from the top bunk.

  It wasn’t any of her business who Aly was meeting—she looked at the clock, moving only her eyes—at two thirteen a.m. Aly stooped to pick up her shoes and slipped out the door. Raine listened to Aly’s bare feet limp across the cabin and out onto the porch.

  Raine had only heard one whispered syllable, but “Al” was Cal’s pet name for Aly. Someone else could call her that… .

  Cal had picked her brain about Africa tonight. There was no way he was slinking out with Aly. Besides, he knew she and Aly were roommates. Her mind drifted toward sleep.

  Is he the one, Lord? Cal wasn’t the skeptic he was when she met him. He came to campfire every night now, and the expression on his face when he sang couldn’t be faked. Something was connecting between Cal and God. She rolled over and squeezed her eyes shut.

  She threw back her quilt. The clock glowed two forty three, and she wasn’t asleep. She tugged on her sweatshirt jacket. She’d find out for herself who Aly was meeting. Mom always said she was too nosey for her own good.

  #

  Drew pulled his pillow over his head fighting to stay in the dream, but it was no use. He stared at the underside of Keenan’s bed in the glow from his clock. It was the same dream he kept having—Rainey asleep in his arms under the mosquito netting, some filmy something between them. He lay back on his pillow trying not to disturb Keenan. What was he going to do?

  It was one thing to be noble when you were wide awake, but surely God didn’t hold him responsible for what he dreamed.

  He’d messaged Sam last night. All he wanted was for her to do what she did so well—blow him off. God, please. And for Cal to take himself off the playing field. Rainey called her relationship with Cal a mess, but she left in his car after campfire last night.

  The desire to kiss Rainey again was nearly overwhelming. Big mistake, kissing her the first time.

  #

  Aly yawned loudly. Cal motioned for her to keep quiet. She’d left her crutches in the cabin, and had to clutch Cal’s arm while she limped across the athletic field. Her flip-flops flung droplets of dew against her bare legs. She stopped and rubbed her arms wishing she’d been awake enough to grab a jacket.

  Finally, they made it onto the laundry porch.

  Cal squatted against the wooden siding and looked up at her. “Thanks for coming.”

  She watched the crown of his head as he bent over. She’d always liked the golden color, the waves. Then, she saw the baggie of pot and the rolling papers.

  And she’d thought… never mind. She should have guessed what he had on his mind. She sat down and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I’m cold.” She picked the grass off her feet and flicked the pieces off the edge of the porch.

  Cal looked her over as he lit a match and sucked air through the cigarette until the tip glowed. He passed the joint to her, holding his breath. The smoke came out with his words. “You could have worn a little more clothing.” One brow quirked, and she knew Cal had recorded exactly what she had or didn’t have on. But it wasn’t the kind of look that said he was going to do anything about it.

  Cal’s arm dropped around her shoulders and she scooted against his side. They sat in the quiet, passing the joint back and forth. If she closed her eyes and focused on the warmth of his arm and his chest—she could pretend he cared.

  But it was no use. Cal had been her best shot at loving and being loved, and she’d been too busy polluting her life with guys who didn’t love her to notice. When she looked over her shoulder, all she could see was wreckage, like the remains of a demolition derby—broken relationships that had to be her fault.

  She used to “sleep over” in Kallie’s room when Kallie was in high school and she was in grade school. She tried so hard to stay awake, but she always ended up falling asleep in the middle of their talks. But Kallie got religion, then she got married, then she had Jillian. Each one, a step away from Aly, religion being the flying first leap.

  Daddy didn’t love her. She sent him cards every year on her birthday to remind him he had a daughter. No response. None. At least she still got along with Mom.

  She felt like she was swinging on the backyard swing someone left at the Magnolia Street house. She hung upside down and imagined the trees were all growing from the sky. She wanted to feel this way all the time. Free. Clean. Next time she went home, she would swing again.

  Cal dropped the small butt on the porch and ground it out with the heel of his sandal.

  Aly turned her chin toward Cal and tried to look at him, but he was too close. “You drug me out in the middle of the night, why?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. Pressure. Dad expects a spiritual mini-me. Raine wants the same. And Africa. I’m paddling as hard as I can, and I can’t stand up and surf…. Don’t know if I ever will.”

  “I never tried to meet Kallie’s expectations…” Her thoughts felt fuzzy, disjointed. What was it that she wanted to tell Cal? Her mind tripped backward. Facts flew at her in no particular order— Carina’s dark, intelligent eyes, the olive and rose of her skin as she lay facing Gar, her head propped on an elbow—
and tumbled out to Cal. Moonlight had splashed across Gar’s muscular body, the pink and green plaid sleeping bag. Lumps of clothing dotted the gym planking like discarded paint rags. Hanging in the air was the smell of old sweat and rotting garbage from the dumpster behind the gym. And sex.

  “I felt like I should look away, slink back down the gym steps before they saw me. But I got mad.”

  “No kidding.” Cal peered down at her, his eyes round with surprise.

  She leaned back against Cal’s arm, closed her eyes, and went on with the story.

  “Carina.” The girl’s head had jerked up. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Carina sat up, pulling her knees in front of her, trying to cover herself. A moonbeam caught the warring of shock and guilt on her face like a black and white photograph.

  Gar sat up and turned toward her, making no attempt to hide his nakedness. One thing she knew about Gar, he was more proud of his body than anything else in life.

  She ignored him, smiling slightly at Carina. “You noticed how the steroids missed one of his, uh, appendages,” she directed her gaze at Gar’s body part—in case he didn’t understand the word ‘appendage’—and back at Carina.

  Gar’s face had mottled with anger as he shifted his offending body part out of her sight.

  Cal’s chest rumbled with mirth before it bubbled out of his throat and dulled the ache of betrayal under her ribs. “I can’t believe you insulted his manhood like that.” He laughed again, a contagious belly laugh.

  A tiny giggle fizzed through her like a Fourth of July sparkler. It felt so good to laugh. When was the last time she’d laughed?

  They fed off each other until Cal gripped his stomach, and she rocked back and forth, a snort slipping out. She smeared the tears into her face with her hands. She could feel Cal’s body quiver with laughter he was trying to suppress.

  #

  Raine buried her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She was crazy for looking for Aly at this hour, all because she thought Cal might have been the one who woke her up. She stood in front of the bleachers not sure where to go. The athletic field lights had been doused by the night watch. Only yellow bulbs glowed around camp.