by JoAnn Durgin
What in the world did he mean by that? Was he flirting? Lexa decided to ignore it. “Sam?”
“Yep?” Another grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Bring it on.” Okay, maybe that was flirty. He didn’t seem to mind. Lexa slid further down into the seat, but not before she spied what must be the TeamWork camp in the distance. It was about time.
Sam echoed her thoughts. “Ready or not, TeamWork, here we come.” Sam pressed harder on the accelerator, sending another cloud of dust swirling around the station wagon.
She was ready. So far, so good. Bring it on, indeed.
Chapter 4
The sight of several ugly, gray concrete buildings sprawled across the flat landscape greeted them. Relief flooded through Lexa. She’d started to think the road to the TeamWork camp was some never-ending loop, and she’d be stuck in the old Volvo station wagon with this inquisitive but distractingly handsome giant the rest of her life.
Small groups of men and women walked across the campsite. They looked to be a good mix of ages, although mostly young, and a variety of ethnicities. As Sam drove them further into the campsite, some waved and smiled.
Parking beside a small concrete building, Sam stepped out of the car and stretched his arms in a high arc above his head. “Gotta work out the kinks.” He shot her a grin. “Stay put. Chivalry’s at work. Be there in a second.” She stayed put. A few seconds later, the door of the Volvo creaked a little as he opened Lexa’s door. “Sounds like it needs oiling again to get out its kinks.”
“Hi, Sam!” A tall, slender girl with long blonde hair walked toward them. Lexa bit her lower lip, feeling dwarfed and dowdy by comparison. This gorgeous creature could put on a potato sack and make it look like designer wear. Most likely there was a beauty queen crown in her closet. But her smile was as friendly and genuine as they come.
“Hey, Beck. This is Lexa Clarke.” Lexa darted a glance at Sam. At least he didn’t display that idiotic, besotted expression most men adopt around a beautiful woman.
“Hi, Lexa.” Her voice had a distinctive, southern drawl, genteel and cultured. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Rebekah Grant, one of your roommates while you’re here for the summer.” She gathered her close in a quick hug. “Welcome to TeamWork.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too.” Somewhat embarrassed, Lexa surveyed their surroundings. “Exactly how many roommates do we have?”
“Six others besides us. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. None of us snore or have any disgusting habits. We have Sam for all that,” Rebekah teased with a wink in Sam’s direction. With an amused grunt, he hoisted Lexa’s suitcase over one shoulder and started walking across the campsite toward a row of the gray, one-level buildings a short distance away. Lexa hastened to catch up to him, a near impossible task since his strides were so long.
Pausing, Sam turned back toward her. “This is actually an old prisoner work camp.”
Lexa gulped. Was the prisoner tale some rite of initiation? Perhaps they gave the new volunteers that line to gauge how gullible they are. “Well, as long as I don’t run into the old chain gang, I’m good. But if that happens, all bets are off.”
Sam and Rebekah both laughed. “It really is an old prison work camp,” she whispered as they resumed walking, “but that was a long time ago.”
Something in Sam’s expression revealed an ease of familiarity around Rebekah. Lexa wondered if there was more to it, but she seemed pretty young. She couldn’t be much older than twenty or twenty-one. Judging by the faint lines crinkling the corners of Sam’s eyes, and the tinges of silver at his temples, he must be in his late twenties or early thirties.
“What kinds of ministry . . . things do you do around here, Rebekah?”
“I do a little bit of everything, like most of us here at the camp. We all pitch in where we’re needed most. It helps break the monotony, and you get to know everyone better. Most of the time, I work with the children in the schoolroom, keeping the preschoolers occupied and out of trouble so their fathers and mothers can help rebuild the houses destroyed by the flood.” Pushing a few strands of long hair behind one ear, Rebekah looked over at her. “What area of ministry are you most interested in?”
Lexa hesitated as she thought of an appropriate response. She really should work on an answer to that question. It was bound to come up again.
“I’m sure once Lexa has the opportunity to check everything out, she’ll be able to plug in and help us out tremendously.”
The unexpected show of support was surprising, and Lexa darted a grateful smile in Sam’s direction. “How many new TeamWork volunteers do you have this summer, Sam?”
“Seven. I’ve worked with most of the other volunteers on at least one other mission.”
Either TeamWork or this man inspired loyalty. Maybe both. Lexa turned her attention back to Rebekah. “Are you a schoolteacher?”
“You guessed right. I’m planning on being an elementary teacher. I’m from a small town outside Baton Rouge, and I’ll be a senior this year at LSU.” Rebekah the Teacher would be a first love for all the smitten boys, and the girls would adore her. Her apparent calm, patient manner should be a plus when dealing with children.
Opening the screen door of one of the nondescript, long, narrow buildings, Sam held it open and waited. Lexa made a mental note that it was Building Seven. Considering the fact the concrete structure housed eight women, it was a bit cramped, but serviceable. In a quick glimpse, she surveyed a few single beds, a couple of bunk beds and what she hoped was a small bathroom with running water.
“There’s a bathroom with shower in each dorm, and a washer and dryer in the building two doors down to the right. It’s always the first question women ask,” Sam advised with a grin. The TeamWork leader was uncanny in reading her mind sometimes.
“We’re going to paint the walls this weekend, if you want to help. We also saved you one of the single beds.” Motioning to one of the beds that looked not much better than a glorified cot, Rebekah stood aside as Sam lowered Lexa’s suitcase. Considering how much she’d crammed into it, Lexa was grateful he didn’t make a crack about bringing everything she owned. He handled it like it was featherweight.
It was considerate of the other women to think of her needs and not stick her on the top of a bunk bed, not that she would have minded. Rebekah took a couple of minutes to explain the basic daily routine and showed her the small bathroom and lockers where they could store personal items. Out of the corner of her eye, Lexa noticed Sam lounging against the door frame, lightly twirling his Stetson and whistling under his breath.
“Are you two going to stand around talking all day or are we going to lunch?” he asked a couple of minutes later when they finished. “They’ve probably started without us.”
Lexa was surprised Sam waited in the first place. Surely the TeamWork director had more pressing things to do.
Rebekah rolled her eyes and shot an apologetic glance Lexa’s way. “Doubtful they’d start without our fearless leader. Relax, Mr. Taskmaster. We’re coming. Besides, we’re not that late. How long have you been standing there eavesdropping?”
Sam laughed and followed them out the door of the small building, replacing his hat as soon as he stepped outside. He was right about one thing. The rest of the volunteers were already eating when they arrived at the dining tent. Lunch was a quick, bustling event with ham sandwiches, salad, chips and iced tea or lemonade accompanied by an abundance of rowdy laughter and good-natured teasing.
Rebekah explained that specific individuals were in charge of the cooking, but everyone was expected to take turns pitching to help set the long tables, serve the meals and help with cleanup. Food supplies were brought in by truck a couple of times per week from a grocer in San Antonio.
Most of the workers seemed well-acquainted and enjoyed an easy camaraderie she hoped to share soon enough. It could be that a number of them knew each other from home churches or previous TeamWork camps. Preferring to stay quiet besi
de Rebekah, Lexa listened to the conversations around her as she ate, not really tasting anything. Her mind was muddled from all the names and faces of the people she’d be working alongside for the next eight weeks.
As the volunteers talked about the various assignments in the camp, it hit her that this mission would be tough in some respects—a physical challenge, sort of like boot camp. The TeamWork representative who interviewed her in Houston told her in no uncertain terms that it would be long hours and hard work. So, it wasn’t like she wasn’t forewarned.
San Antonio was also a fun city with lots to see. The TeamWork orientation leader explained she’d have two free weekends during the eight-week assignment. Maybe then she’d have time to explore the Alamo, the Riverwalk with its winding walkways and open-air cafes, and the festive street markets with their colorful wares. The old missions outside the city also intrigued her. For the most part, the TeamWork experience was going to be the side of San Antonio most tourists never see.
Hearing someone call Sam’s name, Lexa glanced his way. Very animated, engrossed in conversation, he gestured with his hands. He possessed a natural, effortless charisma. But Sam had a bit of a grouchy side, too. Hitting him on the leg with that heavy tire iron hadn’t helped. To be fair, that would irritate most people. He’d have a nasty bruise to show for it in a day or two. Sam alternated between teasing her, being nice to her, fussing at her, and asking thought-provoking questions that challenged her. He was an enigma in some ways, but overall, Sam came across as genuine, and seemed to care for all his volunteers.
Maybe it was part of Sam’s job to make everyone at the camp feel welcome. She wondered why he’d been the one to pick her up at the bus terminal. Was it only because she was a first-time volunteer? If Sam picked up every one of his volunteers, he’d spend every blessed minute of the first few days running around in that old car. The thought made her grin.
Leaving the dining tent, Lexa’s heart fluttered as her eyes met Sam’s. She focused on moving her feet forward when he fell into place beside her. When she darted a quick glance his way, she saw compassion in those blue eyes. He knew. Knew how scared she was. Frightened the others wouldn’t like her, wouldn’t accept her once they found out she didn’t go to church or know much about the things of God. Their God. But was He also her God?
“Don’t worry, Lexa. It’ll be okay.” When she paused, Sam placed a light hand on her forearm. Unbidden tears welled and threatened to escape. He couldn’t know those were the exact words her mother said before she passed away from cancer when Lexa was a scared eight-year-old, fighting the fear of abandonment. Six words meant to comfort and give her hope for the uncertain future. Words that meant so much for her heart.
“I’m not worried.” Lexa fought to keep her voice even and blinked hard. “Why would you think that?” Not sure she wanted to hear what came next, she started walking again. Dropping his hand from her arm, Sam kept pace beside her again. He was a persistent man. That didn’t exactly come as a surprise.
“Try not to take everything so personally.” Before she could respond, he continued on. “I’m sure it’s hard, being thrust in the middle of something so unfamiliar.”
Lexa fought the urge to cross her arms. Sam was only trying to be nice and spoke the truth. “It was completely my choice to come. I’ll adapt.” She tilted her head to one side. “You seem to have a lot of questions about me, Mr. Lewis. Isn’t there a file with my volunteer application or something? Surely that should fill in some of the blanks.”
Sam nodded. “Yes, there’s a file. Confession time. I haven’t had a chance to actually look at your file yet, but I will. I’m much more interested in what’s not in your file. Your driver’s license and social security card only prove your identity, but they don’t show me who you are.” He sighed. “I only arrived a couple of days ago myself, and it’s been hectic getting everything set up. Most of the other volunteers arrived yesterday, and I’ve been a little busy.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations.”
“I still wanted you to know.” Sam pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and positioned them on his face. “I’m taking a crew over to the building site in a half hour if you want to join us and get started on one of the houses. It’d be a good opportunity to meet some of the other volunteers. But if you want to stay in the dorm—unpack and get oriented to the camp—that’s fine, too, especially since you just arrived.”
When she didn’t answer right away, Sam plundered on. “How handy are you at swinging a hammer?”
“As handy as you are at charming the girls, I’m sure.” Lexa turned away as her cheeks grew warm. She resisted the urge to put her hands on either side of her face. Nothing like snippy, sarcastic comments to keep men at bay. It had always proved a surefire method before. She had the feeling this particular man was different and looked at her as a challenge.
He didn’t miss a beat. “Nah. These girls around here are only interested in me for my brawn, not my brain.”
Lexa tamped down the laugh threatening to erupt. “That doesn’t appeal to you?”
It was Sam’s turn to laugh. “No, Miss Clarke. I’m looking for a real woman.” With his deep drawl, it sounded exactly like the kind of thing a Texas cowboy would say. Bring on the horse, the barking canine companion and the cattle drive. Time for the roundup.
Lexa couldn’t resist the bait. “And what qualifications must a real woman have to gain your attention?”
Sam’s expression sobered. “The only qualification, as you put it, is that she has to have a strong commitment to the Lord.”
Whatever she expected to hear, it wasn’t that. “That’s it? Seriously?”
“Yep. That’s about it.”
“What about looks?” That might sound shallow, but surely looks ranked high on the list for a man like Sam.
“What about them?” he countered, pinning her down with that blue-eyed gaze. “I’ve been around long enough to know that beauty is surface gloss, only an added bonus. It’s what’s in here that counts.” He put his hand above his heart. “Beauty is all in how a woman responds to life’s challenges, and grows from her experiences.”
“Well, that’s a perfectly lovely sentiment, and no offense, but it sounds like something straight out of Dating 101 for Christian men.” Perhaps she should have thought that one out before spouting it out. “I didn’t mean to sound so derogatory. Of course, you have a right to your opinion.” Only dating strong Christian women and not caring about looks? No way on earth could she accept that as the truth about this man.
“No offense taken. If you want to know the truth, I personally like a little spice in a woman.”
Lexa threw her head back with laughter. “Spice? Like what? A little salt, perhaps?” She started to walk away, but not before she glimpsed his wide grin.
“No.” He caught up to her in one large step. “More like paprika. Someone to keep my eyes wide open and on my toes.” Sam stopped walking. “Are you flirting with me, Miss Clarke?”
“Never!” she protested, grinning back at him over her shoulder as she moved forward. “I don’t know why you’d think such a thing, Mr. Lewis.” In the course of only a few hours, she’d said something similar to him at least twice. This was getting ridiculous.
No matter his protests to the contrary, a man like Sam wouldn’t fall for just any solid Christian woman either—plain Jane or not. If that was the case, he would have married a long time ago. Any one of the girls in Sam’s TeamWork camp should qualify. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, and he didn’t strike her as the type to ever divorce a woman. No, he’d stick it out in a loveless marriage. He’d be faithful and loyal to the end. Besides, no woman in her right mind would ever divorce a man like Sam.
Lexa didn’t want to consider the possibility he was a widower with a dead wife and a slew of kids back home in Houston. She wouldn’t wish something like that on the poor guy, pining away for some saintly but deceased woman who’d stolen his heart and left him with a bunch of ki
ds to raise all by his lonesome. Sounded like the plot of a romance novel or some sappy television movie.
Sometimes she thought she could write her own romance novels with all the crazy thoughts dancing in her mind. What in the world was she thinking? Lexa shook her head and tried to hide her soft laughter.
“Definitely spicy.”
Lexa heard it clear as a bell before Sam caught up to her again. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. This was not a good sign. Not at all. Talk about a hopeless romantic.
“So, are you game to come along with my group this afternoon?”
Again, she couldn’t resist a grin. “Why not? I think that’s why I’m here, after all. Besides, it doesn’t look like I’ll have a better offer the rest of the afternoon. Unless that old chain gang decides to show up, of course.”
He laughed. “I’m meeting everyone in front of the dining tent in half an hour. Remember, the afternoon sun can get really hot.” His gaze brushed over her fair arms. “Be sure and put on some sunscreen, but water is provided.”
Lexa nodded. “I’ll be there, ready to work.” She felt Sam’s smile all the way down to her toes.
“Good.”
He tipped his hat as she turned toward Building Seven. Her head high, Lexa sensed a certain pair of light blue eyes on her the entire way. She focused on picking up her feet and not stumbling. Heaven help her when she put on those heavy work boots back at the dorm. That would be the real test of walking.
It was unnerving knowing the TeamWork leader watched. Lexa dared not look back over her shoulder this time. If she did, she feared she might just turn to dust or at least be rendered unsteady on her feet and incredibly weak in the knees.
Chapter 5
Two hours later, Lexa sat back and wiped her wet brow with the back of her hand. It was so humid, she felt sticky all over. She’d changed into denim shorts and an Astros T-shirt for the worksite, but the backs of her knees were practically fused together. Even though it was equally hot in Houston, she wasn’t used to manual labor under the blazing sun. It was sweaty and hard. But another part of her loved it. It was a rewarding release of energy and cathartic in several ways.