Kicking Eternity

by Ann Lee Miller

  Jesse came through the gym door motioning to Drew he had an announcement to make. All eyes turned to Jesse.

  “Cash is missing all over camp. This is why we tell you to put your money in your snack bar account and not to keep it in your cabin. If anyone knows anything about this, see me. If you took the money and feel badly about it, give it to a staff member or put it on one of their bunks—no questions asked.”

  She could feel the blood draining out of her face, the shock settling in. Her gaze shot to Drew. He’d seen her reaction. He knew. Eddie.

  Chapter 23

  For the second time in a month Raine scanned the inlet looking for Eddie. She’d texted him, I have something you want. Maybe she should have been more specific. Money. It was too late to tell him now since she had forgotten to bring her phone along.

  She scrutinized the surfers on their boards, a couple of them up, riding a curl; most floating in the waves a hundred yards out like bobbers on a line. She’d been hyperaware of Eddie’s invisible presence days before he stole the cash. Now, she felt nothing. Maybe he wouldn’t show.

  Cars with board racks baked in the sun. Two hoods sported mahogany-tanned surf babes in bikinis. She sunk down on a sand dune and watched the sandpipers hot-foot their three-pronged prints into the mounds.

  Drew would call what she was doing enabling or some kind of twisted extortion. But it was partly her fault the money got stolen. If she wasn’t working at the camp, Eddie wouldn’t be hanging around. Wasn’t it her job to protect the camp if she had the power to do it? Five hundred dollars was a hefty chunk of her savings, but if it kept Eddie away from the camp for the rest of the summer, it would be worth it. If she was careful, she’d still have barely enough for her ticket.

  She dug her toes down toward the cool sand. Where was Eddie? Anger bubbled up to the surface, and she realized how familiar the feeling was. This was who she’d become—a simmering volcano ready to spew at any provocation.

  All her anger traced back to Eddie. She reached for a jagged piece of cowry shell. What exactly had Eddie done to make her mad? Where to start? She smoothed the sand in the valley in front of her and wrote, stabbed me with a meth needle, scarred me for life inside and out, stole my teen years. A half an hour later she still carved words into the sand, wringing every incident from her memory. Finally, she sat back and surveyed all the pain Eddie had inflicted—three dune’s worth, the last two dunes in her own shorthand.

  What do I do now, Lord?

  Forgive. The word swooped into her mind and squatted like a pelican coming in for a landing. Why? She didn’t want to forgive Eddie. He didn’t deserve it. Look! She flung her arm out toward all the words she’d written in the sand—as if God didn’t understand.

  But the word sat there—a pelican on a piling settling in for the duration.

  The tears started. I can’t. I’m not strong enough.

  I am.

  She wiped tears away with gritty hands, but more came, cresting like waves. It’s too hard. You’re asking too much. Eddie’s sins blurred through her tears. The sobs came one after another, wrenched from deep inside. She couldn’t stop them now. Oh, God. Her chest heaved. Help me.

  The sobs backed off, a storm withdrawing out to sea. Her diaphragm shuddered like she was still crying on the inside. She knew what she had to do.

  “I forgive you for scarring me.” She wiped the words away and took a ragged breath. “I forgive you lying to me about… stealing….”

  At last, she sat in the dip in the dunes surrounded by smooth hills. She took a shaky breath, stood, and walked out of the dunes—free. As she moved down the beach, love for her brother poured into her soul. Now she had something better to give him than money.

  #

  Raine stared at Drew’s laptop screen where it sat on the metal island in the camp kitchen. She rubbed her back and sat up straighter on her stool. Another mission agency that required its workers to raise their own salary from donations. Why was it so hard to lay down your life for others? Wasn’t teaching in a third world country enough?

  Drew looked up from where he sat at the other end of the table stuffing letters into the envelopes she was sending to African missions. “I’m proud of you forgiving Eddie. I bet it was hard to do.”

  “Yeah, but so worth it.” She clicked on the next agency.

  “I’ve got a call in to Sam.”

  Her head jerked up.

  “I said I’d tell you when I decided what to do.” He sighed. “I’m going to give it a try.”

  “I know.”

  “How can you know? I made the decision this morning.”

  The hum of the refrigerator cut off and the room seemed unnaturally quiet. She hooked her hair behind her ears. “I didn’t know when, but how could you not pursue a relationship with Sam? If God told you—”

  “I was eighteen. I could have been so crazy about her I got it wrong.”

  “And you could have been right. It’s not in your character to refuse to check out something God might have told you to do.”

  Drew gave a dry laugh. “You make it sound like I haven’t been wrestling with this for days. It about ripped me down the middle. I want—” He raked his fingers through his hair making it stand up crazily. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

  She let her gaze fall back to the computer screen. Why didn’t Drew sound happy about his decision?

  Drew’s phone vibrated against the steel tabletop, loud in the silence. “Hi, Sam. Samantha. Thanks for calling back.” He pushed through the swinging doors into the dining hall. “I wanted to ask you to think about the future. Ours.” The doors swung shut behind him.

  Ice clunked in the icemaker—the sound of her dreams breaking. Africa. Love. She sat in the wreckage examining what was left.

  As a little girl, she’d snuggled in her mother’s lap and read from the big, blue book about faraway places where people had never heard of Jesus. It was the African nations that tugged at her heart, the ones she wanted to pray for every night. Drew made her see Africa had become her escape from Eddie.

  She always thought she’d be married, but as her college years wore away, so did her hope for love. This summer had pitched her into a cauldron of confusion. The rumble of Drew’s voice seeped into the kitchen. She loved him. Funny time to realize it, when he was smack in the middle of reconciling with his soul mate.

  God, what are Your dreams for me?

  An ethereal wisp of a thought slipped into her mind. She grabbed onto the words “hope” and “future” and typed them into Biblegateway.com. Jeremiah 29:11 glowed from the screen. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

  Could she trust God’s dreams for her life to be good? Without Africa? Without Drew?

  The desire to get away from Eddie had walled her off from God’s dreams. But that wall came down yesterday. For the first time in years, staying on the same continent with Eddie didn’t seem unbearable. And she knew in her heart she had to do what her dad wanted her to do.

  But Drew. At night as she drifted off to sleep, when her thoughts wouldn’t obey her will—Drew kissed her, crushing her to his chest as though he’d never let go. She reveled in his taste, the texture of his lips as they pressed against hers, his breath whispering across her cheek—things seared to her memory in that one brief kiss. And she knew how her hand nestled in his, how the blond hairs curled at his wrist. She knew the comfort of crying in his arms.

  Darn him. He was right—he never should have kissed her when he had Sam on the back burner. But he hadn’t seen Sam in years. Who knew they’d reconnect? She couldn’t blame Drew.

  Drew’s laugh filtered through the closed doors. His heart had always been Sam’s. And it always would be.

  God, I choose Your dreams for me.

  She closed down Drew’s laptop, zipped it into its case, and pushed it to the center of the island. Her letters and envelopes to the mission a
gencies sat on the end of the counter in neat stacks. She scooped them over the edge into the clean black garbage can, killed the fluorescents, and went out into the night.

  #

  Drew stepped into the kitchen. The room glowed with soft light that spilled from the hood over the range. Had he expected his friendship with Rainey to carry on as usual? If he was going to date Sam, this was what it would be like. A room with Rainey missing.

  Out of fairness to Sam, he wasn’t going to steal any more kisses from Rainey. No more wrapping her in his arms for comfort, holding her hand when they prayed. He needed to share with Sam the things he told no one else.

  Telling Rainey he was going to pursue Sam was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He almost blurted out his love for Rainey and begged for a chance to win her. Sure, Cal wanted to marry her, but they weren’t engaged. So, for some reason Rainey wasn’t agreeing to marry Cal. If not for a divine red light, he would have had a shot at waking up under the mosquito netting with Rainey in his arms.

  He felt like Abraham laying Isaac on the altar. The familiar story threaded through his mind. God asked Abraham to sacrifice the son he loved. And Abraham obeyed. At the last moment, God stopped Abraham from killing his son. God had wanted to know if Abraham loved Him above all else.

  I love You more than I love Rainey.

  But it was killing him to prove it. He picked up the laptop Rainey had been touching all evening and held it to his chest. This was crazy. How was he going to spend time with Sam Sunday afternoon when Rainey filled his thoughts and senses?

  #

  Raine walked toward the campfire ring. Evening sun blanketed Drew, the beach, the ocean with amber. A lump lodged in her throat. All day she’d been avoiding Drew as much as possible. She stayed away from the beach this morning. If there was a way to ease off to a safe distance from Drew she was going to find it.

  She clutched the plastic garbage bag closer to her side. “Drew! Hey, wait till you see my Samson costume. You’re going to have a riot teasing me.”

  Drew’s head popped up from where he was fanning the fire with a section of newspaper. He smiled, but his eyes were serious, scanning hers. “I can’t wait.”

  She pulled on the swim cap she’d fastened long yellow strands of yarn to and tugged it over her head.

  Drew laughed, a deep belly laugh, better than she’d hoped for. She tucked the rest of her hair under the cap and grinned at him. This was worth every minute of the two hours she spent making the costume this afternoon. And the kids would love it, too.

  “It’s not the best look for you, Rainey,” he said, still laughing.

  “Wait till you see the rest.” She wiggled into the paper grocery sack she’d cut head and arm holes in.

  “What are the curly pieces of yarn glued to the front?”

  She eased out the long strings of yarn attached to her cap that were caught in the neck opening. “Chest hair, you moron!”

  Then, they both laughed, warmth spilling over them like sunset. She took a deep breath. “We’ll have to pray the kids stop laughing long enough to hear the story.”

  “Good idea.” Drew reached for her hand, but he stopped and folded his arms instead.

  The lump settled back in her throat.

  His chin dropped to his chest. “Lord, we pray You’ll use the music and Rainey’s rendition of Samson to make a difference in the kids’ lives.”

  “Help the kids settle down and listen after they have their laugh.”

  “Amen.” Drew surveyed her costume again and shook his head back and forth, his lips stretched into a grin.

  #

  Raine hugged Krissy, a little girl with blue eyes who wore a perpetual surprised look. “Don’t forget, God has an important job for you to do like Samson.” The girl ran over to join her cabin mates as they walked up the beach to the seawall.

  She peered across the empty campfire area at Drew as he added a log to the fire. He looked up at her. “Good job tonight.”

  His words warmed her. “You, too.” She kept the fire between them.

  They’d been here alone after campfire a dozen times. Why did it feel so intimate tonight? Probably because she couldn’t stop fixating on kissing Drew. That one kiss had been heaven.

  The silence stretched between them.

  They both spoke at once.

  “The costume—” Drew said.

  “I’m not going to—”

  Drew shook his head. “It wasn’t important. You go.”

  She moved part way around the fire toward him and stopped. “I decided last night I’m not going to Africa. At least not now. Not until I can go with Dad’s blessing.”

  Drew crossed the distance between them. “That’s probably the right decision.”

  She thought he’d be happy she made the choice he had pushed for, but his eyes looked sad in the firelight.

  She put a hand out to touch his arm and let it drop without touching him. “It’s okay. I’m at peace with it. Don’t be sad for me.” She smiled to let him know she meant it.

  “You’ve looked forward to Africa your whole life.”

  “God has good things planned for me. I’m counting on it.”

  “I… I want to give you… I want you to have your dream.”

  “God has a dream for me. I think it will be better than my dream.” Her eyes kept straying to the firelight playing on his lips. She had to get away. She pulled out her phone and checked the time. “Oh, I’ve got to run. I’ll catch you later.” She spun and fluttered her fingers behind her, walking for the seawall like her life depended on it. Drew wouldn’t follow—he couldn’t leave the fire unattended. But it was the fire in her that was raging.

  #

  Raine stopped under the shade of the pine tree in front of her cabin and watched Drew stride across the athletic field toward the Canteen. He was dressed in khaki Dockers and a polo shirt, his hair combed, his jaw smooth. She hadn’t seen him this dressed up in years. Her breath caught. Could you know someone so well, you forgot how good looking they were?

  He walked purposefully, not noticing her as he moved past. He was going to see Sam, she was certain. His wide back moved up the road, tearing a part of her away with him.

  #

  Drew pulled into the parking space in front of Sam’s condo and killed the engine. For the past hour and fifteen minutes on I-95 he kept telling himself all he had to do was show up. But there were ten more steps to Sam’s red front door. The longest steps of his life.

  His mind slipped back to Rainey, where it always went. Last night had almost felt normal—till they were alone. Rainey was wound up so tight she finally sprung—high-tailing it back to camp as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. And she hadn’t shown up to walk on the beach since he told her he was going to pursue Sam. Thinking about her made his chest ache.

  Lord, I’m here because there’s a chance this is where You want me. Do You?

  He wouldn’t know till he went in. He sucked in a breath and let it go. He opened the truck door and slammed it behind him.

  “Hey.” Sam opened the door after his first knock. She looked like she walked out of a magazine in dress slacks, heels, a button-down shirt, and makeup. He’d never seen her in makeup. “You look… great.”

  She shut the door behind him. “Thanks.” Her glance darted around the room. She twisted her hair like she used to when she was nervous. “Come on, I’ll show you around the condo.”

  “Wow, Samantha, you’ve changed. Your dorm room was always a disaster.”

  She laughed and he could see her face go red under her tan. “You didn’t see me running around like a crazy person shoving things in closets and under the couch before you got here.”

  He chuckled. The tension went out of the room, and he took a seat at one end of the sofa. She sunk into the armchair nearby and curled her feet under her.

  “Thanks for coming by camp last week. I had a lot of closure I didn’t know I needed.”

  She shrugged. “I was
in town anyway.”

  He caught her gaze. “I’ve done a lot of thinking this week.”

  “Oh?”

  “Do you want to give us another try?” He held his hand up to keep her from reacting. “Don’t feel like you have to. It’s a question. I’ve had my closure, I’m fine. I’ll be fine whatever you say.”

  “When we were eighteen, I wasn’t mature enough to commit. That’s one way I have changed. I dated a guy who wanted to marry me—”

  “More than one.”

  She smiled. “Okay, more than one. But it would have been settling for second best. I kept comparing him to you.”

  Hearing Sam admit this should have made him feel vindicated, but he felt nothing.

  “The funny thing is, I wouldn’t have contacted you if you hadn’t Facebooked me.”

  “I’m taking that job in Africa—actually it’s six months in Africa and six months traveling with the children’s choir in the States. Is Africa a deal-breaker?” He waited, hoping it was.

  She shook her head. “Not a deal-breaker. After all that angst freshman year, I majored in elementary ed after all.”

  It felt so clinical. Detached. Maybe if he touched her. He reached for her hand where it lay on the armrest. She turned her palm up and they intertwined their fingers like they used to, still a perfect fit. But he was going through the motions. How many sermons had he heard on doing the right thing and the feelings would catch up later?

  He squeezed her hand and let go. “We have a lot of years to catch up on.”

  But after take-out pizza and hours of coloring in the years with words, he still felt empty.

  Sam walked him to the door. “Thanks for coming, for giving me another chance.”

  She was close enough to kiss. He bent and pressed his lips to hers. Sam responded, but he cut it short. Sam wouldn’t appreciate that he was thinking of Rainey.