Happily Ever After

by Jenn Faulk

~David~

  So, he felt a little convicted.

  There Camille was, with an audience full of students, saying all of these wonderful things about him that were probably unwarranted. Sure, it felt good hearing them, but the last thing he needed was Camille idolizing him.

  He was an important guy. He got that. And they all thought he was pretty special. He got that, too. But Camille? Wow. She was talking about him like he could walk on water.

  Which was awesome, obviously, because this was Camille Evans and all.

  But seriously. He was convicted.

  Though it would likely rock her world to not have him as the center of her universe (well, maybe that was taking it too far), he knew he had to bring her back down to earth for her own good, for the good of the ministry.

  Yes. He had to be honest about his own failings, about who he was. And he knew just the story to tell her to make her see it.

  He was prepared to tell her that story as they worked on closing down the house and packing the truck so that they could head back to the coast. The food they’d left needed to be transported back to Swakopmund, and it was going to take a while to get it all moved. As they worked in the kitchen, he opened his mouth to tell her just exactly why she shouldn’t idolize him and all.

  But before he could say anything, she began talking.

  “How are Charity and Hope?” she asked.

  He took a second, putting his story on hold in his mind and smiling at her. “They’re good. You don’t keep in touch with them, I guess?”

  “Haven’t spoken to them in years,” she said. She looked up at him. “Had a bit of a falling out with Charity our first year of college. Of course, we all went separate ways, but we kept up with each other. And she was... making some bad choices.”

  Yeah, David could just imagine, given the long line of boys that had been through their home when she was a teenager. College? There was no telling what that had been like.

  “Anyway,” Camille said, “I confronted her about it all. As her friend, you know? And she stopped talking to me. So did Hope.”

  Well, that sounded like Charity.

  “Immature,” he said. “When it probably would have done her good to listen to you. And I don’t know the details, but if it’s any consolation, I’m sure Hope lost touch not because she was angry but because Charity told her that’s what they were going to do.”

  “She was bossy like that,” Camille affirmed.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “But they’re doing okay, right?”

  He thought of the twins back in Texas, leading very different lives, still all up in one another’s business all the time.

  “They’re doing great,” he said. “Charity’s married. To a pastor of all things.”

  Camille regarded him with mild shock. “Well, my goodness.”

  “That was pretty much my same reaction,” he laughed. “John’s been good for her. He was Hope’s friend, so you can guess what kind of brainiac, good guy he is.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” she said softly. “That she’s married and in ministry.”

  He heard just a twinge of sadness in her voice. Over the loss of a friend, life not working out the way she’d planned... he wasn’t sure. But it was there.

  “She’s a stay at home mom,” he continued. “My nephew, Aiden, is three, and my niece, Amelia, should be here sometime after the new year.”

  “I’ll bet Charity’s a great mom,” Camille smiled. “She was always so good with the children we’d volunteer with at church.”

  David thought about Charity on this last visit, sitting in the floor in their parents’ living room, singing Sesame Street songs along with Aiden as they drove plastic cars all over his mother’s Persian rugs, always sure to include a huge crash at the conclusion of every tune. He thought about Aiden, who he’d never even met until that last trip back to the US, given that he’d been born only after David had taken the job in Namibia. But there had been no shyness at that introductory meeting, as the kid had launched himself into David’s arms on first sight and shouted, “I know yeeeeewww!” before introductions could even be made, recognizing his uncle from the pictures Charity had shown him.

  “Aiden is a really awesome kid,” David said, grinning to think of how the small boy had eaten every meal that weekend perched in David’s lap, sharing Cheetos with him and loudly talking about Africa like he knew it all. So like his mother. “So, she’s doing something right.”

  Camille smiled at this. “And you’re probably a really great uncle, huh?”

  “As great as I can be from so far away,” he grinned. “I told him I’d start talking to him on the computer. Which prompted a lot of questions about how I was going to crawl myself into John’s laptop.”

  She laughed out loud at this.

  “Do you have nieces and nephews?” he asked. “I mean, more than the two you had back when you were still in Dallas.”

  “I have those two still,” she nodded. “Tanner and Maggie. And I have four more now as well. Livi, Ethan, Charlotte, and Avery.”

  David whistled low at this. “Whoa. That’s a lot of babies.”

  “Well, after Kyle passed away, Chelsea remarried,” she said. “A younger man.” She looked up at him meaningfully.

  “What?” he snorted. “Does being with a younger man increase fertility or something?”

  She blushed at this. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just, you know, she’s a lot older than most new moms and still having all these babies because her husband is younger, and if she was with a man her own age, I think they’d probably be done by now. I mean, they’d be worn out by now. Surely.”

  She stopped, blushing even more as David raised his eyebrows at her.

  “Good grief, David, I didn’t mean that –”

  “Didn’t mean what?” he laughed.

  “I can tell what you’re thinking!”

  “Then, please enlighten me,” he said, loving the innocence in how embarrassed she was over something she’d only thought she’d implied. “What was I thinking?”

  “I mean, not like worn out, as in... well, you know. I don’t mean to make Seth sound like –”

  “A typical younger man,” he shook his head, still grinning at her. “Lots of energy and all, I guess, and a healthy appetite for –”

  “Stop it,” she muttered, blushing deeply now, reaching out and hitting him lightly.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, blushing himself, laughing. “I meant as in energy to keep up with a house full of toddlers. Which is what you meant, too, obviously.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “We were talking about our sisters –”

  “Not about younger men,” David said again.

  “David,” she warned.

  “Fine, fine,” he laughed. Then, quieter, “We heard about Kyle. I mean, we were connected because of Chelsea. And my dad was connected as well because the church Kyle had been pastoring had been a New Life plant decades ago.”

  “I know,” Cammie said, looking up at him. “Your parents were there for the funeral.”

  “I’m glad to hear that Chelsea is well,” he said. “That she’s okay after going through that. Remarried. Found happiness again.”

  She nodded. “And how about Hope? Is she married?”

  David thought of Hope, wondering at what kind of man could coexist with her....

  His mind was drawing a complete blank.

  “No,” he said. “Too busy earning degrees at the seminary and working her butt off at New Life. She started and runs a ministry to teenage, single mothers in inner-city Dallas.”

  “Wow,” Camille breathed. “That’s wonderful.”

  “She’s just like she always was,” he agreed. “Opinionated, uncensored, dogmatic. Makes my dad really, really proud.”

  He thought of Paul Connor, always an approving eye on Hope, his protégé.

  “And you,” Camille noted. “You must make him even prouder.”

  Yeah. N
ot so much.

  “Maybe,” he conceded.

  “What you do here, who you’ve become,” she beamed at him. “Who wouldn’t be proud?”

  And there it was again, this appreciation.

  She was thinking too highly of him. He had to bring her back down to earth.

  “Funny that you mention Hope and Charity,” he said, taking it from this angle.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, because I was thinking, back when you were telling those girls about how amazing I am and all... well, about a time when you were spending the night with the twins at our house,” he said.

  She watched him for a moment. “I didn’t say amazing, did I?”

  “Something like it,” he said.

  She smiled at this and narrowed her eyes just slightly. “Oh-kay... well, then, go on, big shot.”

  “Big shot?”

  Was that sarcasm he heard?

  “You were telling me about a time when I slept over. I did that a lot,” she said, continuing to work alongside him.

  “Yeah,” he said, continuing on now that he’d started down this road. “But this was during the remodel. You remember when they took out the ceilings in the upstairs rooms and we just had the open beams?”

  It had made their voices echo. His mom had come to tell the girls to keep it down when they’d get to giggling, telling them that they were keeping everyone awake.

  “I do,” she said. “We were really loud that night.”

  “Yeah,” David nodded. “And I should know. My room was right next to Hope’s.”

  “I remember,” Camille nodded, looking up at him. “You and your dumb friends were just as loud as we were.”

  “Louder,” he said. “Except when we climbed on my bookshelves and watched you girls get ready for bed. We were really quiet and sneaky when we did that.”

  Camille’s hands stilled over the work. She turned to face him slowly. “What?”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, feeling guilty all over again. “I was the only one who saw anything. And I got plenty of grief over it later, because my friends told me I should’ve gotten off the shelf earlier so they could see Charity. Because… well, you know.”

  Yeah. She knew, surely. Charity, at sixteen, had the body of a centerfold. It grossed him out, honestly, but his little dweeby friends couldn’t hardly look at her back then without bursting into giggles.

  “Gotta good eyeful of your sister, then, David?” Camille asked wryly.

  “Oh, no,” he sighed. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

  She stopped what she was doing and turned to him. “You little… what was I wearing?”

  He closed his eyes for a minute, wondering if this had been a smart idea after all, sharing this story. “Oh, wow, I can still see it in my mind. My twelve year old mind was unredeemed, of course, but it had a wonderful photographic memory.”

  “How dare –”

  “Pink,” he said, barreling on despite the anger in her voice. “This really light pink color. With lace around… well, you know. Little red hearts all over the place. And the matching little…whew.” He was sweating even now at the remembrance. He put his hand to his forehead and kept right on going, anticipating that she’d reach out and hit him at any moment. “I was so sheltered I didn’t even know what you were supposed to do with a woman anyway, but my very bad pubescent boy mind concluded that I’d be perfectly content to just watch you dance around like that. And you did. All night long in my head. And for a few years after that.”

  “You little pervert!” she hissed at him.

  “You’re telling me,” he said, hardly able to look at her now, remembering how she’d looked then, so beautiful, in a way he hadn’t even been able to imagine before stepping on that bookshelf. And falling, of course. Making enough of a racket that his father had come up to see what the problem was, had rightly ascertained what David had been doing, and had a little talk with him later.

  David would never forget that talk.

  “I get it, son,” Paul Connor had said, frowning at him. “I really do. Pretty girl. And it’s easy just to have a peek because it’s exciting, and you’ve had a crush on her for a while now–”

  “No, sir, it’s not like that,” David had lied.

  “Don’t lie to me, boy,” Paul had said.

  David had merely nodded, already ashamed of what he’d done.

  “I get it, David Paul,” his father had said, his voice softer. “But you’ve not earned the right to look at Cammie Evans or any other woman like that until you’ve covenanted to God to love her, protect her, and honor her the rest of her life.”

  This had seemed more serious than the situation warranted, honestly. She hadn’t been naked or anything.

  “Get that look off your face,” Paul had said. “It actually is that big of a deal. Christ says if you look at a woman with lust in your heart it’s the same as having her like she’s some cheap whore.”

  Well, good grief. He’d just been looking.

  Paul kept on, discerning all of his son’s thoughts, like always. “What, David Paul? Do you think Cammie Evans is a –”

  “No,” David had stuttered, not even wanting to hear those horrible words attached to the most perfect girl he’d ever known. “Of course not. She’s perfect, Dad.”

  “Then don’t you dare dishonor her like that,” Paul said. “And don’t dishonor Christ. You’re made for better than that, David Paul.”

  Wow. Back in Tsumeb, he felt conviction all over again just remembering these harsh but true words from his father.

  He cleared his throat, truly embarrassed now. “My dad found out what I had done, and he had Jay go through a purity study with me. And it worked. I haven’t looked at another woman in that kind of getup since, knowing that it does nothing to honor Christ or benefit me. So, you’re up there all by yourself, Camille, dancing around all alone.”

  Oh, wow. That sounded bad. Like he was, even now, fantasizing about her and –

  She hit him on the arm. “You’re an awful missionary, David!”

  “Hey,” he protested, “I’m not thinking anything now. That was years ago!”

  “Younger men,” she swore, pointing her finger right into his chest. “Okay, yeah, so that was what I was talking about earlier. I just didn’t know how much younger I was talking about!”

  He should have felt really bad. And he really did. But he also felt the urge to start laughing. An illogical response to the conviction, the embarrassment, the horror on her face, the hilarity of the whole situation... who knew? He bit his tongue and tried to control himself.

  Camille was too horrified to notice his struggle.

  “I remember you meeting with Jay! To talk about the Scriptures, you said! You didn’t mention the catalyst that made it happen!” she continued. “Even then it was –”

  “Well, it started out with that,” he conceded. “Moral purity. Keeping my eye on the prize and not on other things, you know. But it moved on to deeper matters of faith. Those were some of the best days of my life, studying with him, beginning to have a heart for God’s Word, beginning to have a heart for student ministry. I mean, forgive me for saying it, but seeing you in your underwear... well, you know, it’s at least part of the reason I’m in ministry today.”

  Her eyes widened at this. “Camille Evans. Inspiring a whole new generation of young men towards the mission field.”

  He couldn’t help himself anymore. He burst out laughing.

  “That’s funny!” he said. “I don’t remember you being so funny, Cammie –”

  “It’s Camille,” she said between clenched teeth. “And it’s not funny. You were thinking of me in my underwear, back when you said that over dinner. You’re probably thinking of me in my underwear even now, you little perv.”

  He wasn’t. Praise God, he wasn’t.

  Because he was working really hard to not think of her that way...

  “Oh, no,” he said, finally getting his laughter under control.
“I’m not. Honest. But that’s what I’ve been trying to say. I’ve been trying my best to let God redeem my pitiful, lost, unredeemed soul since then and make me more like Jesus. But that’s what I was. Who I am, really, without Christ.” He nodded at this, glad to see that she would finally look at him again. “I just don’t want you putting me on a pedestal.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him and opened her mouth to say something. Then, shut it. Then, said it anyway. “I’m not idolizing you, you doofus.”

  Oh. Well, that was... good. Except not.

  “But you said –”

  “I was praising God for what He’s done in you, David,” she said. “Just like you said back in your sermon at that conference. It’s not you. It’s Him and what He’s done. And if it sounded, to your egotistical ears, like I was singing your praises, then maybe you need a reality check. I would say you’re a good guy, David, but there are no good guys. Scripture even says that. We’re all just a bunch of train wrecks.”

  Ouch. And true. He could hear Paul Connor all over that theology.

  Cammie had been listening in church all those years, obviously. And now, she was taking a sledgehammer to his pride. Which, you know, was probably more warranted than the wonderful things she’d said about him earlier.

  “Oh,” he managed.

  “You’re going to hear me say a lot to those students over the next few years,” she continued on. “And you’ll do well to remember that when I speak well of anyone, you especially, I’m really speaking to the goodness of God in putting any goodness in any of us. So don’t worry about being on a pedestal. You weren’t ever on one. Even before I knew the whole business about your voyeurism.”

  “Wow, voyeurism is a really harsh word,” he muttered. “But point taken.”

  They watched one another for a long moment.

  And for just a second, he saw shame in her eyes.

  His breath caught. He was the one who should have been ashamed. Treating her like he had back then, spying on her... yet, here she was all these years later, looking just a little insecure, looking more than just a little hurt, looking like he had failed her somehow.

  This wasn’t what he’d intended.

  “I’m so sorry, Camille,” he said softly. “For back then. For assuming now that –”

  “You know what, David?” she sighed. “Just don’t. Just... please.”

  What a jerk. What an egotistical jerk he’d been, on top of being a rotten, hormonal, little boy. What a great way to start this new season of ministry, outing himself like this, for who he really was, and alienating her through no fault of her own.

  “Camille,” he said weakly. “I was wrong. Then and now. Please forgive me.”

  “You know,” she said, letting out a deep breath and still not meeting his eyes, “that was a long time ago. And I’m blowing everything out of proportion anyway, probably.”

  He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t. That she had a right to be irritated with him, not just for then but for now and how prideful he had become after just one affirming comment from her.

  But before he could say any of it, she gave him a weak smile, clearly trying to cover up the hurt he’d caused. “So, are we finally ready to head out to Swakopmund?”