He nudged the classroom door open for her.
Her gaze skittered away from his. She looked down at the muscle flexing in his arm as he sandwiched a stack of cardboard squares against his chest, and back at the intensity in the blue depths of his eyes. She brushed past him putting space between them and slipped into the chair behind her desk.
He followed her. “We have unfinished business from yesterday.”
She looked up, feigned ignorance. “Oh?”
"I asked you if you were ever going to say those five hundred words." He stood beside her desk looking down at her. “Are you?”
Raine dropped her gaze to his hand wrapped around a Folgers can of brushes. It wasn’t an artist’s hand, but thicker, like a wrestler’s. The memory of Cal's taking her by the shoulders with those hands flitted through her mind. She met his eyes. "Maybe." Not in this millennium. I am so sunk.
"Now?" His eyes burned through her.
"I have to teach now."
“Ouch. Cold.”
She tensed. Nobody ever called her cold. Cal stood too close. She could smell the clean shampoo scent from his damp hair. She inched her chair away from him. “I’m sorry, Cal, I'm just distracted. Thanks for opening the door for me. Gentlemen are hard to find, even at Bible college.” She smiled at him, a small smile meant to be kind, but not encouraging.
“Whatever, Raine.” Cal walked out of the classroom and toward the front door of the lodge. She felt the slap of his disgust as the screen door smacked behind him.
She shut the classroom door and locked it. She didn’t have time for this drama. Her first class of elementary students would show up in less than ten minutes for the story of Jesus walking on the water. She sunk to her knees on the carpet square next to the window. Her chin dropped to her chest.
Focus me on the lesson I have to teach. She was quiet—waiting for Jesus to walk across the wild ocean of her emotions. Please.
Peace flowed in, a sense of Jesus, like so many times before. She sighed, soaking in the quiet. Give me the ability and the power to teach Your Word to the children. She reached for the class list and prayed for each child. Her eyes slid shut. Use me right now. I love You. And, thanks. A fresh breeze blew in through the screen-less window cleansing the air of the musty scent of old Bibles and hymnals.
“Rainey, Rainey, where has your sunshine gone?” a familiar, deep voice sang.
Her eyes popped open.
Drew grinned and tipped his baseball cap at her as he stopped on the dirt road outside her window. A bat strung with mitts angled over his shoulder.
Was Drew’s mission in life to tease her? ‘Hypersensitive’, Mom called her. How many times had Mom said her brothers didn't know how to express affection toward her? They could hardly wrestle their baby sister to the floor like they did each other. Teasing was how they said they cared about her. Yeah, right.
“I was praying.” She wished back the petulant note in her voice.
Drew grabbed hold of the window sill knocking a few paint chips to the ground. “Hey, then, I must be the answer to your prayers.” She smelled the mint on his breath, and a speck of dried toothpaste clung to the corner of his mouth.
“More like the interruption.” She arched a brow at him. “Unless you want to play a part in our Bible drama. You can be the Sea of Galilee and let Jesus and Peter walk on you.”
“Hey, that was funny, Rainey! Why don’t just you bring the kids down to the beach for the story? I’ve got some old tires in the storage shed the kids could walk on instead of me.”
“That’s brilliant!” Why didn’t she think of that? “Maybe you are an answer to prayer.”
“Like I said.” Drew shot her an I-told-you-so smile and slapped the sill, dislodging another spate of paint chips. “I’ll see you in ten at the beach.”
“Wait.” One good turn deserved another. She licked her thumb and reached through the window to rub the dot of toothpaste from his cheek.
Drew’s eyes widened and something like panic flashed through them before a huge smile spread across his face. “You can do that anytime. I don’t remember it being remotely as enjoyable when my mother used to do it—when I was six.” He turned and headed down the road toward the beach.
She smiled watching his long strides, the mitts swaying on the bat behind him. For once she’d knocked him off balance, if only for a millisecond.
#
Drew leaned his chair back on two legs. He sat on the front porch of the cabin balancing his laptop on his knees. Night watch had been over for thirty minutes. While the camp slept, longing for companionship crawled into his gut.
Rainey’s touch, two fingers under his chin and a thumb on his cheek, was the closest thing to a caress he’d had since Sam. It woke up a sleeping giant of loneliness—not for Kurt, though he was certainly part of the equation—but for love. He almost couldn’t remember what it felt like to be in love with Sam. The ache to remember, to experience love again, washed over him in a suffocating wave.
His fingers flew across the keys almost without conscious decision. But he stopped before loading the site. He hadn't looked at porn since right after Samantha broke up with him. Even now, the guilt that racked him for months waited behind a dam to flood over him again.
"Ever feel so guilty you can't look in the mirror?" he'd asked Kurt near the end of his freshman year in college.
"Yeah. Sure." They were coming home in Kurt's car from a pick-up football game on the Daytona State College campus.
The words stuck in Drew's throat. He pushed them out. "It’s porn." He looked down at the football on the floorboard at his feet. "I feel like a total perv."
"How many times?" Kurt's voice was even, not giving anything away.
"I don’t know. Some. After Sam broke up with me." He ground his teeth back and forth in his mouth. "God's gotta be disgusted with me."
Kurt rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. He sucked in a breath and let it out. "Well, little brother, been there. Done that. Regretted it. Not a pervert."
Ever since that day, he and Kurt had checked up on each other. How many times had knowing that he'd have to tell Kurt kept him from going there?
Drew swatted at the insects orbiting overhead in the yellow cabin light. What triggered the temptation? Maybe if he could put his finger on the cause….
The desire hit him most often when he was utterly alone. When he hurt. When he felt weak. Lord, be strong when I am weak.
He clicked on his MSN account to write Kurt. Who knew? Maybe Kurt was struggling too. He stared at the darkened athletic field for a long time after he sent Kurt's email. Drawing in a deep breath to fortify himself, he opened Samantha's Facebook page.
#
Aly jammed Gar's Saturn into first gear. She popped the clutch and the car lurched forward. She pushed the clutch to the floor, and re-started the car. Why had she let Gar convince her driving stick was so easy she didn't need a teacher?
The car made a grinding noise as though she were shoving its innards into a garbage disposal. She slammed her foot down on the clutch. What next? She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her T-shirt. The whole camp probably heard her. She scanned the grassy lot with a cringe.
Great. Raine stood under a tree behind the Canteen looking as cool as if she were in the air-conditioned camp office. Raine wore another one of those blouses with a tiny flowered print, lilac today, and killer Bermudas.
And I'm in Gar's stupid, primer-painted car— She cut off the thought. She was going to learn how to drive stick. She didn't care if the whole camp came out to laugh.
She pressed the clutch down, looked at the diagram on the knob of the gearshift again, and slid the car into first. She let the clutch up. The car leap-frogged. And died.
Raine walked over to the window. "Got a minute?" She tilted her head toward Aly.
She squinted up at Raine. "Can't you see I'm busy? Go away!"
"I only need a minute." Raine squatted down beside the car bringing her to a lit
tle below Aly's eye-level.
"Fine." She exhaled, her index finger tapping a rapid beat on the steering wheel.
"I said something that set you off—the other night on the beach." Raine held up her hand to stop her reaction. "Let me say what I have to say."
She focused on Raine's short, clean nails where her fingers gripped the door. She didn't feel like looking her in the eye.
"I'm sorry I upset you."
She looked at Raine then. There was no hidden agenda in her expression. Just an apology hanging in the inches between them. An apology for nothing. Raine hadn't done anything to warrant her temper tantrum. Gar had put her in a bad mood by going out with his friends, and Raine just had a knack for setting her off.
Raine looked at her. "I've spent my life with my nose pressed against the screen watching other people live." She ticked off on her fingers, "Overprotective parents, homeschooled, commuted to Orlando for college." Raine wobbled and grabbed the car door again. "I want to live this summer, not watch other people live, but I need—" Her gaze flitted away and back to Aly. "I need you."
"Me?" What could the oh-so-perfect-Bible-teacher need from me?
"A friend."
Something inside Aly softened like a bowl of Jell-o zapped in the microwave. "You don't have friends?"
"Cal said I need to learn to relate to people who are different than me."
Aly nodded her head. "That would be me."
Raine spread her hands. "But I could use a friend, period. You and Cal—and Drew," Raine rolled her eyes, "are the only ones I've hung out with."
"Why did you roll your eyes about Drew?"
"He teases me the way my brothers always do. Drives me crazy."
She couldn't help smiling. "He likes you."
Raine frowned. "Like Bart Simpson likes his sister, Lisa."
"No. Remember boys punching you in the arm in junior high when they were interested?"
Raine laughed, a sound like a breeze blowing through a glass wind chime. "Drew's way past thirteen."
She looked down at her hands, now motionless, on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry I went off on you." She looked at Raine. "You remind me of someone—"
"Yeah, someone you don't like." Raine stood and walked around the car. She opened the passenger door, climbed in, and slammed it shut. "You're going to learn how to drive this junk bucket. At least my brothers taught me something useful."
Her mouth dropped open but no sound came out.
Raine arched her thin, dark brows waiting.
"Um, where did you get those Bermudas?"
"T.J. Maxx."
#
Raine stood in the parking lot grinning and waving as Aly zipped smoothly onto the road out of camp. She saw Drew striding toward her loaded down with a huge bag of dodge balls. Aly was wrong about Drew liking her beyond friendship. And no way was she revisiting her seventh grade pining for him.
She met Drew at the edge of the parking lot. "Aly just learned to drive stick in twenty minutes! Twenty minutes. Can you believe it? It took me a month. The girl is a genius."
Drew chuckled at her excitement.
Eddie’s ring tone sounded from her cell phone, and her elation clenched into a fetal position. She hated the hard-driving beat of the Korn song Eddie installed as his personal ring. She would delete it as soon as she hung up.
She eased the phone out of her pocket, dreading what would come next. Already, she could feel the blood draining from her face. Her palm was clammy against the phone. What was it this time? The fact that he had to be alive to place a call held little comfort.
Drew dropped the net bag onto the grass in front of her. The balls bounced crazily in the confined space. She had forgotten he was standing there, forgotten everything but Eddie. Drew's eyes bored into her, radiating concern.
This was her battle. She turned her back on him and walked a few steps toward the hedge. "Hey." She could hear her voice quiver. She put her finger in her ear to catch any nuances in Eddie's words. Was he high? Tweaking?
"Hey Sis. Working at Triple S, huh?" His voice was even, normal sounding. But he'd found her at Triple S. Just when she was starting to feel safe.
"What do you want, Eddie?"
"What? Can't I just call to say hi?"
"You can, but you never do."
"Aw, you're hurting me."
She wished she could leave for Africa this second. "No. You're hurting me. Just tell me how much you need."
"I had a job painting this guy's boat—"
"How much?"
"A hundred bucks. I can come by the camp. Meet you outside the gate."
"No. I'll meet you at Lost Lagoon. Eight-thirty." She smacked her phone shut but couldn't slide it back into her pocket. She didn't want Eddie that close to her.
Drew walked over. "What is it?"
She pressed her lips together. She'd never spilled to anybody about Eddie.
She could see the beads of sweat on his upper lip, smell his deodorant. He’d skated way too close—physically and to her secrets. "Don't you know Americans need at least two feet, eleven inches of personal space?"
He grasped her hand, his eyes boring into her. "Tell me, Rainey." A muscle jumped in his jaw.
She dropped her gaze to the fine white hair covering the back of his hand that still held hers. The hair grew thick and curly toward his wrist, a man's wrist. Even though he wouldn’t back down, she knew instinctively she could trust him. Still—
"My brother Eddie lost his painting job. He wants to borrow some money."
Drew stared at her for a long moment searching her eyes. She knew he wasn’t buying it, but was grateful he let it go. "Do you want me to come with you?"
Her glance flicked to her scar for a microsecond.
Drew’s glance followed hers, and he extended her arm to expose the jagged pink rut in the crease of her arm. "What's that from?"
Raine shook her head, dismissing his concern. "A childhood injury."
"Why do I get the feeling there's more you're not telling me?”
Raine looked away at the row of cars parked along the hedge and then back at Drew. "I'll tell you some other time, okay?"
"Look, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you."
Could she tell someone how she got that scar? Could she tell Drew? Maybe he'd forget to ask. Surely she could stall him till she left for Africa. She nodded. She'd tell him, but only if there was no way to get out of it.
"I'm going with you to meet Eddie." Drew's voice was firm. His feet were spread shoulder-width apart, his stance challenging her.
Raine sighed. She didn't have the energy left to argue. "Just as well. I need a lift anyway."
#
Raine walked along the tree line behind the cabins. She and Drew would meet at eight that evening at his truck and go to Lost Lagoon. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't facing Eddie alone. Did God put Drew there to help her when Eddie's call came? That Drew didn't know her brother's story didn't matter. Drew would have gone with her whether she agreed or not.
Comfort wrapped around the pain wedged in the center of her ribcage. She dreaded seeing Eddie, but she wasn't afraid now. At least not afraid for herself.
Thank You, God.
Intellectually, she believed God protected her all the time. But when did she last feel protected? She stared for a moment at the cirrus clouds stretched across pale sky like angel hair.
When Eddie was fifteen and she was fourteen, Eddie had stood up to a creep on the beach for her.
Raine had lost sight of Eddie surfing and walked toward the shore to get a better look at the waves. A guy with coarse, black chest hair and surfer shorts slung low enough to expose a ribbon of white around his waist strode toward her. Smudges of sand clung to his body.
Raine edged away from his small talk. "My brother—I have to go. Mom's expecting us for dinner."
His hand clamped around Raine's wrist and she could smell the scent of patchouli oil that clung to him.
"No!"
He tugged her toward his windowless van. "Come on, babe, I just want you to see how I tricked out my wheels." His voice was placating.
Eddie shot out of nowhere. "Get your stinkin' hands off my sister!" His fists were balled, his face contorted. Water sluiced from his skin.
The guy flung his hands up like the bad guy in a cop show. "Hey, man, no harm, no foul."
Eddie was all bones and skin then, not so different than he was now. The guy probably could have taken him, but surprise and Eddie’s fierce protectiveness won out. Raine had never been more proud of him.
That was the last time anyone but God protected her. Until now.
#
Jillian jumped off the almost stationary merry-go-round toward Cal. Cal fell back on the grass with her in his arms as though she'd knocked him over.
"Silly, Uncle Cal!"
As Jillian untangled herself from Cal, he looked up and saw Raine walking along the tree line. Evening sun warmed her cheeks and burnished her hair to henna.
Halfway onto the swing, Jillian sang, "Push me! Push me!"
Cal scooped Jillian and the swing up in his arms and let go to her delighted shrieks. As Jillian settled into a pendulum rhythm, Cal's gaze drifted back to Raine. She moved with natural grace but, even at this distance, she seemed burdened, her chin down, shoulders slightly rounded.
He didn't want to care. He didn't want to care about a girl like Raine. She would only entangle him in the life he'd almost escaped. He didn't want to find a real and hurting woman under all that beauty and conservatism. But maybe it was too late.
#
Drew sat in his truck and watched Raine at the ATM machine. She stood with her arms folded, fingers gripped white on her elbows. Her forehead was creased as she stared at the slot where the bills would appear. She had barely acknowledged his presence since she got into the truck other than to ask if he would please stop here.
She said her brother wanted to borrow money, but his gut told him to keep her safe. Clearly, God put him in the right place at the right time to protect her. And, honestly, there was no place he'd rather be right now. Rainey’s needing him fed a hunger in his soul. He couldn’t remember the last time someone needed him. He doubted the self-sufficient Sam had ever truly needed him.
Kicking Eternity Page 4