He shoved off the slab. Because Rainey’s in love with Cal. “I…. Are you happy?” He looked back at her, and she followed him.
She nodded. “So, what’s this about Africa?”
Sam must be as uncomfortable as he was to change the subject so abruptly. He told her about the Africa Cries possibility. Would she consider…? He couldn’t read her anymore. Did he want to try again?
Music floated toward them from the campfire. They walked up to the circle and stood in the shadows listening.
Jesse led the group, “Touch Your fingers to the broken things inside. I open up to You, my Healer, my Redeemer, and my Friend….”
Please, Lord, I’ve carried this bitterness way too long.
Sam looked at him as though she could read his thoughts like she used to. He moved away, not wanting her to glimpse the wound she’d uncovered, not wanting her to know he still carried her picture in his wallet.
She stopped beside the truck bathed in moonlight and turned toward him. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” Tears glistened in her eyes, and he realized how deeply she meant the words. He’d only seen her cry once, when her Grandma died. Sam shook her head back and forth. “I hated hurting you.” She spread her hands out helplessly. “What else could I have done?”
Drew couldn’t help it, he was going on emotion now. He pulled her into his arms and held her, breathing in memories, breathing out forgiveness. “Thanks, for that, Sam.” His voice was thick in his throat.
He released her, and she turned away from him, dashing a tear away. She grabbed her shoes from out of the truck bed and reached for the truck handle.
All of a sudden he didn’t want her to leave. “Would you…” He dove like a cliff diver--jettisoned by gusts of the past, “Would you ever consider… Africa?” Me.
She shot him a flirty smile. “I’m all grown up now, Drew.” She slipped into the truck and shut the door.
It wasn’t until her tail lights disappeared around the corner he realized what she meant. She was ready to commit. She’d give him another shot if he wanted it.
A car pulled onto the sandy berm where the road bent with the coast. He looked up as the engine cut off. Cal.
Chapter 21
Behind Raine the Atlantic churned. Above the campfire flames, she had a straight shot at Drew and Samantha standing beside Sam’s truck. The words of Jesse’s prayer spilled water for her soul onto the sand. She should close her eyes and drink—but they were dry and stuck open like the last time she had insomnia.
Drew reached for Sam in the moonlight, folding her in his arms. Something twisted inside Raine. She knew what Drew’s embrace felt like. Confusion spun through her. What did she feel for Drew? Lord? Did it matter what she felt if Drew and Samantha were getting back together? Drew’s feelings were obvious. He’d carried Samantha’s picture in his wallet for six years. Samantha’s showing up in response to his e-mail could only mean she wanted to try again. Who wouldn’t?
Her phone vibrated against her hip bone radiating dread through her body. Was it Eddie? She squeezed her eyes shut and strained toward Jesse’s prayer.
“We surrender the things weighing us down. Help us put them in Your hands and leave them there. Amen.”
She flipped open her phone. Cal. His text said he was waiting by his car at the bend in the road. Goose bumps rose on her skin.
As she walked toward Cal, he pushed off his car and met her. “I’m sorry, Raine. Will you forgive me?” Shower-damp hair brushed his shoulders. His eyes pled with her in the moonlight, dark pools of remorse.
She wanted to touch his chest to make sure he was really there. She stared at him, looking for the Cal she knew. She breathed in the familiar citrus scent while her heartbeat hammered in her ears. And then her anger woke up.
“Sorry for being two weeks late with your apology? For getting high? Or for groping Aly?”
He winced. “I can’t believe you used that word.” He shook his head. “Aly was cold. Come on, Raine, Aly and I are as good as siblings.”
Raine stared hard at him. He had no idea Aly was in love with him.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m not the one who came looking for Aly at two in the morning, hours after you said you loved me. I’m not the one getting happy with an illegal substance. I’m not the one who broke off all communication.”
Cal dropped his head. He spoke staring down at the sand covered pavement. “The pressure… I knew I had to be the Christian you wanted me to be, the one my folks expect me to be… the one I should be.” He looked up. “I needed a break from the stress. And Aly smokes, you don’t. I didn’t think about how you’d read it. I didn’t think.”
“Obviously.”
“Raine, I love you.” He grabbed her hands. “I thought I’d totally screwed it up with you, there was no point in trying to fix it. But I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to see you.”
“Couldn’t you have had enough faith in me to hear you out?”
He looked down at their hands. “I guess I shut down.”
She stared at the part in his hair where it veered off at his crown.
He met her eyes. “I’m begging your forgiveness.”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t understand, but I forgive you.”
Cal’s eyes sheened with dampness as he stared at her. Then he wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Thank you,” he said into her hair.
She could hear the kids trooping back to camp, the hiss of the fire being doused. Beside them, the saw-grass bent in the breeze. She tottered between letting him have his moment and gently pushing him away. The feelings were gone. Amazing.
“I’ve missed you so much. I promise I won’t shut down on you again.”
She eased out of his arms. “I can’t date someone who does drugs.”
“I’m not some kind of monster. It’s recreational. I’m not chained to them.” He held his hands out toward her. “Look, I’ve only smoked a couple of times this summer. That’s all. I’ll quit. It’s not a big deal.”
“What about the last two weeks since you got fired?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Cal’s jaw clenched.
Drew walked from the seawall down the road toward camp. She recognized his long stride, the familiar span of his shoulders. The picture of Drew holding Sam flitted through her mind.
Cal jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “The first time I met you, I pegged you as one of those legalists—locked up in a box of rules so tight you couldn’t see the real world. But I found out you’re open-minded when I got to know you. You don’t spout platitudes or go with the religious herd.”
His gaze bored into her. “Give me another chance.”
“I… I can’t.”
The pain that flashed through Cal’s eyes knifed her before he masked it with anger.
“I’ll never measure up to your standards. I hoped for a little grace here.” He stared hard at her for a moment, anger radiating from his body like summer heat off asphalt. He got into his car and slammed the door. Sand and shell fragments rifled her legs as he peeled out.
#
“The job is yours if you want it.” Owen Delsen shook Drew’s hand across the dining hall table.
Drew smiled. “Thanks for your confidence in me. I’ll get back to you soon.” He watched the choir director’s uneven gait as he moved across the plank floor. Delsen pulled an Africa Cries baseball cap from his back pocket and slipped it onto his silver head as he passed through the double doors.
Did he want the job? Probably. But what were his motivations? Yeah, he’d like working with music every day. He enjoyed kids of all ages. He’d miss his family, but he’d be in the states six months a year. Kurt would want him to take the job. And Rainey was going to Africa. Maybe she colored everything for him. That’s why he didn’t give Delsen an answer. He wanted to be sure this was a step God wanted him to take.
The choir would be performing tonight. Maybe he’d get a cl
earer sense of what his answer should be. Their show last summer had rocked him. God probably planted the seed for this job back then.
#
Raine grabbed the two letters out of her mail slot. Neither had a stamp. She opened the top envelope and unfolded the piece of art paper. The first thing she saw was a mini sketch of her portrait done in pencil. Below, Cal had written, Your face is etched on my soul, and I’ll never be the same again. I’m sorry we parted in anger. I love you, Cal.
The force of Cal’s anger last night swept out the last crumbs of her crush. But it had been the most real glimpse she’d had of him. Her hope that Cal would go to Africa seemed ridiculous now. The three screened sides of the enclosed porch boxed her in, but she was free, freer than she’d been all summer.
The bold scrawl on the second envelope said, “Rainey.” She tapped the envelope against her palm. Why would Drew write to her when they saw each other three or four times a day?
She pulled out the card. “Thank You,” was embossed in gold script across the front. She smiled to herself. The card was too large to have come in a package of eight. Drew must have gone to the card shop to pick it out. Inside, the card was blank except for Drew’s note.
Thanks, Rainey, for the reminder to pray for Africa. Only you would come up with a gift that involved work! Just teasing. I like the bracelet. Almost as well as the apple juice sweetened carob chip cookies. Seriously, I’ll pray for you, too.
Drew
It was a friendly note, and Samantha was back in the picture. But she couldn’t help smiling. At least he wasn’t thanking any of the other women who gave him gifts—unless Sam gave him a gift. Even that thought couldn’t wipe out the warm feeling under her ribs.
#
Drew walked through the gym doors and yanked his rain poncho over his head. He hung it on a nail while he scanned the room. “Yo, Rainey?”
“Up here!” Her voice filtered through the pounding of the rain.
She stood on the balcony beside the projector. He jogged up the steps. “Jesse said you were in charge tonight.” He wiped the rain off his face with the front of his shirt. “I came early to pray for you.”
And, if he was honest, for the chance to see her. This morning on the beach she acted funny, like she had to keep her distance because Sam had shown up.
“I’m only introducing the choir.” Her eyes sparkled in the light from the halogen lamps. She had on one of those flowered shirts she favored, pink tonight, and jeans. Her feet were bare. “Have you seen the Africa Cries kids before?”
“Last summer.”
“Then, why am I introducing them?”
He cracked a smile. “Because you love Africa.”
He held his hand out to her, palm up. “Let’s pray.”
She smiled and put her hand in his. He breathed in her scent, something clean and green smelling. “Lord, please give Rainey the words to convince all the little monsters to watch the choir.”
Rainey stifled a giggle. “Please touch everyone here tonight with the kids. May it be powerful. Thanks.”
Rainey opened her eyes inches from his. All he could think about was kissing her. He’d been closer than this to Sam last night and hadn’t felt this way.
She started to move away, but he held on. Rainey’s brows arched. He couldn’t think of a reason to keep holding her hand. He opened his palm, but she didn’t move away for a heartbeat. Something quivered in his chest.
Rainey said something about arranging the chairs and headed down the steps. He followed. His mind flicked to Sam as though someone had reset his inner compass overnight. He grabbed a chair at the opposite end of the gym from Rainey and unfolded it. What had he expected when he e-mailed Sam? He hadn’t thought ahead. He’d acted out of frustration over Rainey and Cal. But Sam’s coming brought a peace he hadn’t had since they broke up.
He spent a lot of time thanking God this morning. And realizing he’d been oblivious to his bitterness all these years.
Rainey said something, but he couldn’t hear her over the rain. He cupped his hand behind his ear.
“You and Sam getting back together?” Rainey shouted.
Drew stopped where he was in the middle of a row and walked back to Rainey. “I don’t know.” He grabbed a chair off the cart.
“How can you not know?”
“I’m praying about it.”
“Don’t you feel anything?” Rainey touched her breastbone with her fingers.
He planted his hands on the chair back. “Relief. Freedom from the bitterness. Gratitude that she came.”
“You know what I mean. You’ve carried her picture in your wallet all these years—”
“I wish you didn’t know that.”
“Why? It’s a symbol of loyalty.”
“Or stupidity.”
Rainey’s brows shot up. “Or faithfulness to what God told you.”
Something else he wished he hadn’t told Rainey. He took the next chair off the cart. “I don’t want to talk about this now.”
Rainey slapped a chair seat down between them like a wall.
“Hey, don’t take it personally. I have a lot of thinking to do about Sam, and I don’t think well out loud.” He nudged her chin up with his knuckle. “I’ll let you know when I know, okay?”
“Sure.”
#
As the choir director’s prayer lengthened, Raine moved her fingers to twist the beads on her bracelet and felt her empty wrist. Her eyes popped open and she remembered Drew wore her bracelet now.
She gave a quick glance at the kids sitting around her. God must have answered Drew’s prayer because the kids had quieted by the time the halogen lights dimmed to black. She peeked at the choir director where he stood on the stage washed in white projector light. He pushed his luck praying so long.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the Africa Cries Mission video started rolling. She glanced at Drew where he sat in the side section of the gym. He said he didn’t know what he was going to do about Sam, but she knew. Drew would ask Sam to give it another try. They would fall back into old habits, fall back into the way things were supposed to be all those years ago, fall back into love.
Last night she dreamed she stood on a foreign tarmac under a colorless sky. Wind tossed the palm fronds to right angles at the edge of the runway. Drew’s face bent close to hers. She lifted her chin for his kiss, but the wind whipped at their hair and clothing, pulling them apart till she was moving up the metal steps to the plane, smashed into an inchworm of human bodies. At the door to the plane, she jerked her head around for a glimpse of Drew. He stood with an arm around Samantha, waving good-bye.
She woke up in the dark thinking it had happened. It seemed so real. Even now, she still ached for Drew’s kiss.
She focused on the children as they walked onto the stage one by one and introduced themselves in precise African accented English. As the gym lights came up, their honey brown skin shone. Their wiry hair cropped short, the girls wore dresses and the boys matching African printed shirts and pants. She was mesmerized.
She had worried needlessly about the campers’ behavior. She expected the choir to sing, but they danced through every song—fluid with the beat of a djembe drum. Their smiles warmed her heart while their voices arced and soared around gym.
The director had the audience stand to sing and dance with the children. All around her the campers jumped and twirled awkwardly between their giggles. She glanced toward Drew. He hopped up and down with his head tilted first to one side, then the other in time to the music—totally unself-conscious. She stilled and watched him as the song came to an end. In that moment something deep within her reached across the aisle and bonded with him.
#
The concert ended—too soon. As the halogen lights warmed up, Drew scrubbed his face dry with his hands. He hadn’t realized he was crying. The stories of the children wove into his heart—the black-skinned boy who had been abducted to fight in a guerilla army, the brother and sister who had
been raised by an old woman in their village after their parents died until she could no longer feed them, the small boy who said with a loud voice that Jesus had brought him to Africa Cries Mission.
Inside, his gut ached. What, Lord? What do You want me to do? He could sponsor a child for thirty-five dollars a month. He could write a check to Africa Cries to help with the orphanage upkeep and expansion. Or he could accept the job offer.
He filed out with the campers into the string of African children lined up by the door. A girl about seven gave him a big smile and wrapped her arms around his neck when he bent down to thank her for coming. The next girl looked at the floor and offered him a shy hand. The boy named Josef, with one arm tucked behind his back, shook Drew’s hand with gusto.
He ducked out of line and slipped through the door into the night. He couldn’t meet any more children. He could barely hold it together until he got to the tree line where no one would hear him. The contrast of their tragic stories and their wide smiles had shredded his emotions.
He sank down on his knees beside a bench in the outdoor classroom. Canopied by pines, he wept. The faces from the video of hundreds of children sleeping in train stations and under hospitals flooded his mind. He hadn’t cried like this since he was a kid.
Finally, the wave of emotion crashed and receded. He could feel sweat forming in his armpits. The rain had ended and heat hung in the moist air.
He’d been praying about Africa all summer. Was it a coincidence the choir broke his heart hours after he’d been offered the director’s job? No. He was certain God pointed him to Africa Cries. Sam and Rainey balled confusion in his chest, but he’d go find Owen Delsen and tell him he’d take the job.
#
Raine stacked the chairs on the racks at the side of the gym. She could call the teen boys’ counselor and he’d bring his cabin back to help, but she wanted to be alone.
She’d never been to Africa, but God brought Africa to her in the beautiful brown-skinned children bursting with talent and love. Thanks. God had been kind to her. Tonight she felt His benediction on her longing to go to Africa. She would go.
Kicking Eternity Page 19
