by Jenn Faulk
~David~
He insisted on taking her by the house, just for a look.
It was past midnight, but he didn’t care.
Neither did she, as the door opened and she took it all in.
“Oh,” she sighed, her face glowing in the dim light. There were some light bulbs he’d have to change out. The furniture needed to be uncovered. Some windows needed to be opened so the place could air out.
But Camille was obviously seeing none of this. Only the potential, the promising reflection of it in her eyes as she turned to him.
“Already,” she said softly. “Three steps into this house, and I can tell that it’s perfect.”
“It can be home,” he said, nodding, looking it over as well, just a little regretful that he hadn’t decided to live here himself three years ago. Seeing it through Camille’s eyes made it seem warmer, more welcoming... home.
She turned from him with a grin and took off into the house. “Look at the kitchen!” she said, making her way in, flipping lights on. “Open plan, just like this. I can cook and look out over the living room. When you come over for dinner, you can actually lay out on the couch and talk with me while I get everything ready.”
“Already an invite to come over for dinner,” he said. “I accept.”
“And the pantry!” she shouted, hardly listening to him. “Look how many shelves are in here! And they left some food...” She glanced back over at him. “We’ll probably need to clean that out, huh?”
“First thing we’ll do when we move you in,” he said.
“Already an offer to move me in,” she said. “I accept.”
Before he could comment on this, she was moving down the hallway.
“The master bedroom is huge!” she called out to him even as he followed her down the hallway, peeking in rooms as he went.
“Four other bedrooms as well,” he said, opening doors so she could look at it all. “Big house.”
“How many children did the last missionaries have?” she said, breathless as she came up next to him.
“Just one,” he said. “It looks like that was her room. This one looks to be an office, and those two...”
“A guest room,” Camille said, wandering into it. “Maybe another one, too?”
“Yep,” he affirmed. “And another bathroom. Three in all.”
“Unbelievable,” she murmured. “It feels like half the town could live here. Even the hallways are big.”
And at this, she twirled around in a circle, right down the hallway.
Beautiful. So beautiful. He smiled as he watched her.
“David,” she said, touching his arm, still looking around, her eyes not meeting his. “This was a real home. With a family. I mean, I can picture it. All the love and happiness here. And I can make it a home again.”
He watched her as she spoke about family, as she talked about what she could make of this place...
And his heart began to imagine her here, with a family of her own, ministering just like she was now, except with children. Her own children. Enough children for every room in the house, all of their tiny shoes and backpacks and little socks and school uniforms and books and toys and everything they’d ever need or want strewn all over the hallway. Doors slammed as little voices called out to one another, maturing and aging over the years, looking for Mom, looking for Dad.
Camille, in the kitchen, in this hallway, in these rooms, getting everyone sorted out, reading books, playing on the carpet, bringing in laundry, cooking meals, helping little ones to get dressed, talking about important things the older they got, studying Scripture with them, teaching them about Jesus with each and every word.
Camille all over this house, a family of her own, making her life here.
And where would he be?
Right there with her. Her family... his family.
As he watched her, he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything.
She didn’t know any of it, though, as she threw her arms around his neck, hugged him, and said, “David, it’s perfect. Thank you.”
Camille
It was perfect.
She thought it again as she and David set about airing out the house, cleaning in all of the neglected corners, and making plans.
They’d found a lot in the attic, so many things stored away when the last missionaries left, saved for whatever was going to come next, long before Camille even knew where Namibia was or that it was even a place.
She’d found the dishes in a big box in a far corner of the attic, and David had helped her carry them down to the kitchen, along with all that she’d need to cook any number of meals for an entire room full of people.
Or just David. There were plenty of meals, just the two of them, and Camille could picture so many more even as they began washing each plate, every skillet, the pans, the bowls, all of the silverware, and the glasses that were all in perfect condition.
“A window above the sink,” she murmured as she washed and he dried, pointing out to the street, the view beyond of the ocean. “Just how I would have built this house if I had built it myself.”
He looked out and smiled as well. “Next dish?” he asked, holding his hand out for it, ready to rinse and dry, always trying to stay two steps ahead of her.
They’d been here before. Not here as in this house, but here as in doing this, just like this, so many years ago.
It was the summer of her senior year, and the Connors were going down to the beach for a little break. It would be a whole week away from Dallas and the church for the majority of the family but only a couple of days for Paul Connor, who would show up later, after several important meetings, mid-week services, and obligations.
Cammie had been invited along, and the three girls had spent whole days lying on the beach, talking about how awesome college was going to be and how they couldn’t wait for those days to begin.
The two Connor girls, with Phoebe’s fair skin, had gotten bad enough sunburns after just two days that they were soon housebound and slathered in aloe vera, cursing the beach from where they laid in their beds, dramatically requesting that the rest of the group bring them food and drinks so that they wouldn’t have to move more than absolutely necessary.
Cammie was a little sick of them after just a little while of that, quite honestly. So she volunteered to help David do the dishes one night while Phoebe took care of the twins.
“They’re such drama queens,” he said to her as soon as she’d handed him a dish towel and submerged her hands in the soapy water. “Oh, my skin is pink! I’m dying, I’m dying!”
She’d hidden a smile at this, recalling the twins saying this exact thing to one another as they’d taken turns showering earlier that day. “A little more than pink,” she murmured. “Charity is actually red.”
“You didn’t burn at all,” he said. “You tanned.”
And she looked down at her arms, noting how dark they’d gotten, glancing up at his face for a moment. His skin had darkened as well.
“You, too,” she said.
“Some of us are made for more tropical climates,” he noted.
“Probably,” Cammie said. “And I’m glad for it. I love the beach.”
“Me, too,” he said. “I’m totally going to live by the ocean one of these days.”
“Galveston,” she said, handing him a fork she’d just cleaned. “Or Corpus Christi maybe. South Padre Island.”
“There are beaches beyond Texas,” he said. “A whole world full of beaches.”
Cammie doubted she’d ever see them. “This one is nice enough, though,” she said.
“It is,” he grinned. “The company makes it even better.”
“What are you talking about, you little weirdo?” she asked. “You didn’t even bring a friend with you on this trip.”
“I did bring a friend,” he said. “You’re my friend, Cammie.”
“Ha, ha,” she said, handing him a dish to dry. “Of course, I am.” Except not really. Not in any real
sense.
Sure, she hung out with him when she hung out with his sisters. And they talked more than she talked to most boys.
But still. Friends?
“Yeah,” he said, drying off the plate and grinning. “Charity and Hope brought a friend the last time we went to the beach.”
“Yeah, I know,” Cammie answered. “They brought me.”
“That’s right,” David said. “So, this time? It was my turn to bring a friend. Mom asked me who I wanted to come with us. I told her I wanted you to come.”
She watched him for a second. “Nu-uh.”
“Yuh-huh,” he shot back, holding out his hand for another plate. “You’re way better than anyone else I could’ve picked.”
He was for real. The little turkey had actually been the reason why she’d been asked to go on this trip.
She wasn’t the guest of Hope and Charity... she was David’s guest.
Weird.
“What did Charity and Hope say when you asked to bring me?” she muttered, bothered by this for some reason.
“They thanked me,” he said. “Thought I did it for them.”
“Well, how nice of you,” Cammie said, casting him a glance, waiting to hear that he was joking.
“Yeah, they thought I did it because they think I don’t have any friends. But I do,” he kept on.
She handed him another plate, thinking of his entourage of odd friends. Now that he was in high school, he seemed to have found a clique. A nerdy clique but a clique nonetheless. “You’ve got plenty of friends. And you’re all a bunch of dorkasauruses.”
He laughed out loud at this, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Dorkasauruses. Sounds cool.”
“Totally uncool,” she said. “But there are plenty of you. Should’ve brought one of them when your mom said you could bring someone.”
“Why would I do that?” he asked. “Bring someone from my group of dorkasauruses, or bring you...”
And the way he said you had her looking at him with something close to alarm.
Surely he wasn’t...
No.
“It was an obvious choice,” he said, taking the next plate from her hands. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
She would think about that conversation as the summer progressed and David spent more time around her, annoying her, making her wonder at what he was thinking.
Youth camp had been the pinnacle of that.
You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.
Camille thought about his words, even as she handed him another dish in Namibia, watching him as he grinned.
“What?” he asked. “You kind of left me there for a second.”
“Just... spacing out, I guess,” she said, pulling the drain stopper out of the sink. “That was the last dish, David. Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said, leaning up to put the final glass into the cabinet, right where she’d directed him earlier on. “You’re all set.”
“Except I don’t have any food yet,” she said, glancing away, trying not to notice how great he looked, even dressed down like he was, putting the hand towel back on the counter and grinning over at her.
“Hey, come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her across the room. “I gotta show you something you didn’t know.”
“Oh,” she murmured, surprised by his hand in hers. “Sure.”
“It’s about the pantry,” he said, grinning.
“Oh, well,” she said, very nearly shaking her head against all the crazy things she’d been thinking. “Expired food. I know all about the pantry.”
“Doubtful,” he said, stepping into the small space and pulling her in with him. “You know about that door, but did you know that there’s a second door?”
“Really?” she asked, the door behind her shutting on its own, throwing them into darkness.
“Why did you shut the door?” he asked softly... and glory, he was just inches from her face as he said it.
David Connor...
“I didn’t,” she stammered. “It shut behind me. Let’s open it and get some light in here, at least, so I can see the other door –”
And the doorknob was stuck. Or locked.
“Well, I can’t open it now,” she muttered, rattling the knob beneath her fingers. “Seriously. It’s not moving.”
And she could feel him reach around her, his arms very nearly embracing her, as he tried it as well.
“I probably need to fix that,” he noted.
“Is there a light in here?” she asked, thinking that it would be easier to breathe if she could see him standing this close to her, instead of just feeling him... or maybe not. Maybe that would make it harder –
Click. Click. Click, click, click.
“Burned out,” he said, so close to her that she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. “Or broken. I probably need to fix that, too.”
She thought for a fleeting moment how easy it would be to turn and kiss him even as he was contemplating what all he needed to do for her. There was plenty he could do for her, all right, starting with putting his arms right back around her, and –
“There’s a second door,” she said, irrationally panicked by what she might find herself doing in this dark pantry with her old friends’ kid brother and all. “You said there’s a second door. So, we’re not trapped.”
And she swore for just a second that she could feel his lips near her cheek even as she kept blinking, praying for sight so that she could see if David Connor was actually this close to kissing her, and –
“Oh, yeah,” he mumbled, and she could feel him move just a little. “The second door. Yeah, it leads straight out into the garage, which is kind of a weird feature. But nice, especially if you’re unloading a lot of groceries, and –”
And at this, he opened the door, flooding the pantry with light, then shut it again, sending it back into darkness.
“Why did you just do that?,” she asked, a nervous edge to her voice.
He let out a long breath. She could feel his chest moving against her arm. This pantry was tiny, too tiny, and –
“I asked Piet to come out and fix the garage door. Rig up an opener for you so you could drive in without getting out to lift the door,” he said.
“Well, that was sweet, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“He’s out there right now. In the garage,” he said.
She didn’t get it.
“So?”
“Kait’s out there with him,” David sighed.
Camille could guess what that meant. As infrequently as Kait was at the Botha house these days, given all the trips she made around the country to do medical clinics, she was still there some of the time, as was Piet.
And they were, quite frankly, all over one another most of the time. It was no wonder Kait had wanted a roommate with Piet’s mother overseas, and it made perfect sense why they always found a third party to go up north with them.
Models of moral purity. Going to ridiculous lengths to maintain some accountability. Setting and respecting physical boundaries for themselves.
Except, of course, when they were unexpectedly left alone in a room together or in a random, empty garage.
Oh, well. Camille had embarrassed them before and wasn’t embarrassed to do it again. So, she reached over, accidentally grabbing David’s hip in the process (talk about embarrassing) and opened the door to let them know they had an audience...
And shut the door again without saying anything.
“Well, that’s a little more involved than what I was expecting,” she said simply.
“True that,” David added. “She looks like she’s attacking him.”
“He seemed to be okay with it,” she murmured.
“Yeah, Camille. Welcome to my life for the past three years.”
“Great,” she swore under her breath. “How long are we going to be stuck in here, pretending like this isn’t happening?”
He p
eeked out again. “Uh… a while,” he whispered with a grin. “Wow… get you some, Piet.”
“David!” She reached out and closed the door again.
“What?” he laughed. “He re-roofed an entire house for her a few months ago. Excuse me, we both did. I think he’s due a few kisses as a resounding thank you. No one’s doing the same for me, so good on Piet for getting –”
“Good grief, David,” she said. “Are you still twelve?”
“No,” he managed around a giggle that just reinforced her assertion that, yes, he was still twelve. Then in a lower voice, “All grown up now, Camille.”
Well, she knew this. Knew it better than she had pressed up against him in this tiny space, even as he made a move to open the door again.
She hit him on the arm. “Stop watching them!”
“I hope to accidentally startle them,” he said. “Besides no matter what it looks like from here, I’m sure it’s all very chaste and that she’ll tell him in another couple of minutes, surely, that they need a time out. As far as moral purity in tempting situations goes, those two could write a book. Really admire that about them, but honestly? They just need to get married. And then get a room.”
“It’s so dark in here, though,” she murmured.
And like that? There was light. From David’s cell phone, which he held out towards a shelf.
“Better?” he asked softly, even as she watched him looking over all of the shelves, admiring the way he looked in such soft light, so close like this, so near to her that she could grab him and do to him what Kait was doing to Piet out in the –
“What?” he asked. “What’s that look for?”
She couldn’t tell him the truth, obviously. So, she picked a point over his shoulder and gasped, making it up. “David! There are Twinkies in here!”
“Where?” he asked, brandishing his cell phone in his other hand now, moving gingerly, yet still almost knocking her into a shelf. “There’s not enough room in here for me to turn around –”
“I know,” she huffed. “Your armpit is in my face, David.”
“Maybe your face is in my armpit –”
“Here,” she whispered irritably, putting her arms around him, her head against his chest. Ooohhh. That was nice. “Can you move now?”
She could feel his heart pick up its pace. Before she could wonder at that, she heard him laugh. “Oh, yeah… hey, Twinkies!”
“That’s what I said!”
“Well, they’re supposed to have a shelf life of, you know, forever,” he noted.
“Makes you wonder what they put in them, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Yeah, but that’s good news for you,” he said. “Something you don’t have to throw out. Must have been a treat the Boyds picked up on furlough…” He moved his cell phone again to get a better look. “And they’re expired.”
“I thought they didn’t go bad?”
“Apparently they do.”
“What a waste.”
“Hey,” he said, putting his arms across her shoulders. “There are other things, though. Canned goods. They don’t go bad. Enchilada sauce. Salsa.”
“I miss real Mexican food,” she groaned quietly.
“I seem to remember that you were a big fan,” he said. “Breakfast tacos especially.”
She grinned up at him, saw him smile at her in the little light they were getting. “Yeah, the kind with the –”
“Papas rancheras,” he noted.
“How do you remember that?” she whispered, still smiling at this.
“That vacation down to the beach,” he said. “I’d go with Mom to pick up breakfast for all you girls. And I always made sure to get your favorite.”
“Did you?” she asked, surprised by this, amazed that he’d brought up that same vacation she’d thought of earlier that very same day.
He’d been thinking about it, too.
“You were my guest, remember?” he grinned.
Oh, he remembered. Oh...
“The best friend you ever had, I think,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, surprise in his eyes that she remembered it as well.
And what was there to say to that? Except the truth. David Paul Connor, I think I’m in love with you. Which is weird and all, because –
“I’d do anything for a breakfast taco right now,” she said, saying anything – blasted anything – except what she was really thinking.
“I can get you a Twinkie right now,” he said. “Would that be equally thrilling?”
“An expired Twinkie,” she noted.
“Hey, you take what you can get. And better desserts than what they try to pass off as desserts around here. It’s like they don’t even use sugar in their pastries.”
“That’s true.”
“It is.”
“But still, an expired Twinkie might make me sick,” she said, biting her lip, considering it.
“Still worth it, though, right?”
Oh, yeah. “Fine.”
“Let me grab one,” he said, turning her around and reaching out for the box. “Can you get your hands up to hold it while you eat –”
She tried, inadvertently whacking him right in the face and sending his cell phone flying.
“Oh, David, I’m sorry,” she murmured into the darkness.
“Yeah, put your hands back,” he said, unwrapping the snack cake. “There’s just not enough room without me getting the fury of your fists. And I can’t even get on the floor to crawl around and find my phone now.”
“I didn’t mean to hit you,” she said.
“I know that. Here,” he said, holding the Twinkie up next to her lips. “Trust me.”
And so she did, taking a bite… and groaning. “That’s incredible.”
“Is it?”
“Mmmhmm. Real sugar, David!”
“Well, I’ve gotta try it now, too,” he said. “Mind if I take a bite?”
“Free world,” she said. “My germs, your germs, no biggie.”
He took a bite… and groaned with her. “Praise God…”
“Tell me about it,” she said. “Give me another bite.”
“Here,” he said, then gasping. “Well, I didn’t tell you to eat the whole thing, Camille! You almost got my fingers.”
“Mmmnnuuuhhh,” she mumbled, her mouth full.
“Okay, then,” he said, fumbling around in the dark for the box. “Since you ate most of that one, I get a second, right?”
“I get a bite of that one, at least,” she murmured around the bite, all out grinning as she felt him laugh beneath her hands.
And just like she had so many times when they were younger, Camille reached up, without thinking, feeling her way up to his face, putting her hand in his hair, meaning to mess it up like she had.
Silly David Connor. Just like the younger brother she’d never had.
Yeah, right.
She knew he was nothing of the sort, not by a long shot, not for a long while now, even as he stilled and, though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, moved closer to her, her hand still in his hair.
“Hey, Cammie,” he said, his voice low and deep, as her heart raced.
“Yeah?” she breathed, waiting for words that would indicate what he was feeling, if it was what she was feeling, if it was even okay that she was feeling anything at all –
And suddenly, the pantry was flooded with light. She’d barely registered the open door, Kait on the other side brandishing a shovel, running towards the door, and Piet poised to run away from the door he held gingerly in his hand, when David’s arms pulled her close protectively, his hands covering her head, even as he yelled, “Whoa! Whoa! Kait!”
“Oh, wow,” Kait sighed heavily as she stopped mid-stride, dropping the shovel loudly. “Oh, wow, wow, wow.” She put her hands to her knees and let out a deep breath.
“Shame, man,” Piet echoed, finally relaxing and looking like he wasn’t about to run away screaming.
They all stared
at one another for a long moment.
“Do you mind telling me what you were going to do with that shovel?” David finally exclaimed, his arms still around Camille. Not that she was distancing herself from him, of course. In fact, she moved even closer even as he continued staring at their two friends.
“I heard something! Piet and I both heard something!” she said. “I thought a snake had made a home in there. I was going to take care of it while Piet –”
“Was here for backup,” he said, standing taller.
“Yeah,” Kait said, rolling her eyes. “Good thing he fixed the garage door so it’d go up. Otherwise, he would have run straight through it. Left Camille a giant Piet-shaped hole in her garage door.”
“Scared us to death,” David murmured... still holding Camille in his arms where she could hear his heart racing just beneath her ear.
Wonderful. She wasn’t complaining. She would never complain about this. Ever.
“What were you two doing in the pantry?” Kait asked, watching them suspiciously.
“What were you two doing in the garage?” David asked, turning her question back on her.
Again, they all stared at one another.
“Fixing the door,” Piet finally offered, glancing over at Kait. “What was that noise?”
“David dropped his phone,” Camille said, looking up at him, wondering at the look in his eyes...
“Yeah,” he said, slowly letting her go, hesitation in his face as he did so.
Hesitation because he wanted to still hold her? Or hesitation because he realized what it looked like, how close he’d been to her?
“We were cleaning out the pantry,” he murmured. “And the door locked behind us. And we weren’t going to come out here because –”
“No way,” Kait breathed. “Are those Twinkies?!”
And the opportunity to say or do much else was cut short as Piet and Kait crowded around them and forced them apart.