Happily Ever After

by Jenn Faulk

~David~

  He showed up again on Christmas morning.

  They’d said goodbye only a few hours ago, sitting together on the porch, listening to the church bells all over Swakopmund chiming the arrival of Christmas.

  It could be a lonely time. Cammie was obviously feeling it a little, as she wanted him around more and more lately.

  Why else would she want him around? Not that he minded. No matter why she wanted him around, he’d be there.

  But he’d wondered if there was something more going on. Probably just a figment of his very active imagination and all of his pathetic boyhood hopes. Because when she smiled at him, he very nearly reverted to his twelve year old self, sweating and having trouble breathing, very nearly giggling, well, glory be, Cammie Evans.

  Smooth. So smooth. Even if she caught him smiling at her all moon-eyed, at least he’d been careful to not say anything and embarrass himself.

  Unless, of course, she was feeling something, too.

  Maybe...

  She’d told him as he’d reluctantly left the night before that he was, of course, completely welcome and very much expected to come back the next morning.

  He was glad for the invitation. And Cammie herself seemed to be as glad about his acceptance as she opened the door and grinned at him.

  “I made you a huge breakfast,” she said by way of greeting.

  Cammie Evans and food. A whole day ahead of them with just this.

  He’d never had a better Christmas.

  “Merry Christmas to you, too,” he said, hugging her, knowing that he was using the holiday as an excuse to touch her. And she was okay with it, apparently, as she held him close a moment later, seemingly unwilling to let him go.

  Homesick, probably. Nothing more than loneliness. Maybe.

  “Well, come in,” she said softly, backing up just enough to look him in the eyes, her arms still around him.

  Seriously. Maybe. There had been that afternoon in the pantry. Then the night before. And every moment in between, with this look on her face...

  He’d seen that look before.

  He was going to be late to his first high school class. World history. It was first period, and it was somewhere – yes, somewhere – in this ginormous building that was bigger than his junior high and elementary school combined.

  There were three stories at this high school, and the building had to be three miles long. (Maybe more!) He’d been astounded to discover that his freshman class had 1,438 students, but that was nothing compared to the shock of arriving on campus and discovering that the sophomore, junior, and senior classes were just as big.

  He was glad to be in high school, finally, of course, but... wow, he was so lost. Where in the world was his first class?!

  He’d hoped that Charity and Hope would help him out a little, but beyond the ride they’d been forced to give him in the little SUV they shared, they’d pretended like they didn’t know him, purposeful, important seniors that they were, disappearing into the crowds as soon as they left him at the door.

  He looked back down at the computer printout with his schedule, wondering which direction he should even go as floods of students passed by him on every side.

  “David Connor!”

  He heard her voice before he saw her, and relief washed over him as soon as his eyes met hers.

  Cammie Evans. Grinning at him, even as she reached out and messed up his hair... then pulled back her hand with a grimace.

  “How much gel did you use this morning, David?” she asked, studying his hair with curiosity.

  “Too much probably,” he said. “Wow, am I glad to see you, Cammie!”

  “Oh, yeah?” she asked, already distracted, as people passed them both, calling out greetings to her.

  He took the opportunity to look her over. He saw her every week, of course, almost every day during the summers, but this would be different, going to the same school she went to. He’d scowled at the prospect of wearing a uniform (what public school did that anyway?), but looking over Cammie’s fitted shirt, her little skirt...

  Uniforms were good.

  “You’re glad to see me,” Cammie said, waving back to a group of girls then looking at him. “Why is that?”

  Because I’m in love with you, obviously. And you’re wearing a really short skirt.

  He refrained from saying this.

  “Because I’m lost,” he said instead. “I don’t know where my first class is.”

  She smiled at him. “Happens to the best of us,” she said. “Happened to me my first day here, too. Where are you heading?”

  And she looked at his schedule and began walking him that way, explaining how the building was laid out, checking over his other classes, telling him that he’d lucked out with his Spanish teacher but that his biology teacher was really hard and –

  “Hey, Cammie.”

  He was a big dude who came out of nowhere and slung his arm over Cammie’s shoulders, very nearly knocking David over in the process.

  “Hey, Owen,” she said, smiling up at him.

  Oh, him. A guy from church. Another senior. Pretty popular, too. Charity said it was because he was “haaaawwwwhhhhttt,” but David didn’t see what that mattered since the guy had the intelligence of a gorilla. (And he was very nearly as hairy as one, too.)

  “You make that uniform look good,” Owen said, giving Cammie a slow smile.

  And David wanted to kick himself for not having been the one to say this to her. Especially when he saw how it made her beam, just a little.

  That look in her eyes. She didn’t like this monkey, did she?

  Owen finally saw David scowling up at him. “Hey, little man,” he said. “Didn’t see you down there.”

  “I’m helping David find his world history class,” Cammie said, still giving Owen that look.

  That look. David couldn’t help but stare at her a little, seeing the way she looked, how much more beautiful it made her, how he –

  “Is it just me, or do the freshman get smaller and smaller every year?” Owen asked, no longer even looking at David.

  “Maybe,” Cammie giggled.

  Ugh. Go away, monkey man. Go away, go away, go away...

  “I’ll catch you at lunch,” Owen finally said, ducking away with a smile, heading the opposite direction for his own class.

  And Cammie watched him leave, that same look on her face.

  “Uh... Cammie?”

  She looked down at him finally. “Oh, sorry, David. I didn’t realize you were still here with me.”

  Half a lifetime later, he found himself seeing the same look on her face as she looked up at him and said, “David, are you still here with me?”

  That look on her face, as she was looking at him...

  “I hate gorillas,” he said softly... wanting to kick himself a second later for his idiocy.

  She watched him for a long moment. “Okay,” she said, laughing just a little.

  “I’m just saying,” he shrugged, letting her lead him into her house finally. “Gorillas. And really hairy guys. They’re gross, right?”

  She made a face at this for a second, as he pulled her chair out for her then sat down in the chair next to her. “I guess,” she said.

  “Exactly,” he nodded, thankful that somewhere along the way stupid, ugly, gorilla Owen had messed up somehow and hadn’t ended up with Cammie forever because she was right here, right now –

  Reaching out and touching his face with a grin.

  Whoa.

  Maybe, huh? Because there was that look.

  “I kind of like my guys clean shaven and all,” she said, clear nervousness in her voice, even as she rubbed her thumb lightly over his cheek. “Not hairy and... well, gorilla-like.”

  And David forgot all about the food on the table. He was going to say something. Finally. He was going to –

  The doorbell rang.

  Of course.

  “Are you expecting someone?” he asked, making a move to answer t
he door for her.

  “No,” she said, standing with him. “It was just going to be us.”

  Before he could say anything about how that was great with him, she walked past him and opened the door.

  “Geseende Kersfees!”

  Kait and Piet. David thought about slamming the door back in their faces, not wanting to share a minute of this holiday with them, wanting Cammie all to himself, especially now that she said she didn’t like gorilla men either.

  But before he could pretend like they’d never even been there, Cammie came up behind him, laughing. “Hey, welcome back!”

  “Thanks,” Kait breathed, grinning as she stepped in and put down her ever-present messenger bag.

  “I didn’t realize you were coming back so early,” Cammie said. “You said after Christmas.”

  “Cut the trip a bit short,” Piet answered, shaking David’s hand as he came in, too, with a curious glance towards him... almost apologetic as he did so.

  Well, good. He should be apologetic. Should be sorry for walking in right when David was ready to tell Cammie everything.

  David took a breath, willing them to go away again, even as he said, “Well, merry Christmas, y’all.”

  And Kait turned to him, something strange in her eyes. “Merry Christmas, David.” She glanced over at Piet with some concern, reaching up to put a strand of her hair behind her ear nervously.

  Well, that was weird. Before he could wonder why she was watching him like that, why Piet was watching him like that, too, Cammie gasped.

  “You’re wearing a ring!” she said, grabbing Kait’s hand.

  “Oh, that,” Kait said dismissively, looking down at it herself. “Yeah. A Christmas gift from Piet.”

  “You’re getting married?” David asked Piet, who had gone from looking apologetic to looking downright euphoric.

  “Nee, man, we are already married,” he said.

  Cammie looked between the two of them, her mouth rounded in shock. “What?”

  “Well, he asked,” Kait sighed, as if this was taking too much effort to explain it all when she had something else on her mind clearly, even as she glanced back at David. “And rather than planning some elaborate wedding that will ensure that my dear, psychotic mother will come here and taint the entire African continent with her presence –”

  “Nee, man,” Piet laughed.

  “– well, we just went ahead and made it legal in South Africa. Which I’m told makes it legal here. And if we can get the good parson David here to have us say some vows and sign a paper for us, it’ll be legal in the great state of Texas... and the rest of the States by default, I guess.” She shrugged. “So, yeah. Married.”

  They all watched her for a long moment.

  “What?” she asked.

  “After three years of putting him off,” David said, “you just randomly married him the same day he proposed?”

  “Fine by me,” Piet said.

  “And I haven’t been putting him off,” Kait argued. She looked over at her... husband. Wow. That was weird. “And after three years... well, I was sure. Finally. So, there you go.”

  “Congratulations,” Cammie said, grinning over at David.

  And he could understand it at least in part. With Cammie looking at him like that, he could understand eloping, running away with someone –

  “You’re just in time to have breakfast with us,” she said, looking over at the table.

  “Oh, no, we don’t want to crash your party,” Kait said.

  Good. Then, go away, David almost said.

  “I made plenty,” Cammie assured them. “David and I don’t mind.”

  Well, actually, he did mind. But he and Cammie would have other moments by themselves.

  He opened his mouth to assure them that it was okay (even if it wasn’t), but Kait interrupted him.

  “No, really,” she said. “We just wanted to come by and...” She looked over at Piet.

  What was up with these two?

  “David, we’ve been in touch with the board,” Piet said softly.

  The board.

  He thought this odd but not worth all the looks. “Oh? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s great,” Kait said. “Just perfect, actually. They want you to go back stateside on New Year’s to give some speeches. You know, while all of the students are back up north and you’re not as busy.”

  He didn’t want to leave here now, obviously, not with Cammie here. But a short trip to make some speeches and shake some hands wasn’t any big deal.

  “And they want Camille to go with you,” Piet added.

  Even better.

  Cammie grinned over at him. “Free vacation to the US?” she laughed.

  “We can do that,” he said, grinning back at her.

  “There’s more to it,” Kait added, picking up her messenger bag, looking away from David with guilt in her eyes. “Have you talked to your parents recently?”

  He hadn’t. He’d intended to call them that very night, to wish them a merry Christmas, but it hadn’t been a priority. He’d left home three years ago and had distanced himself from the drama of the church, the convention...

  The convention.

  “What kind of meeting will I be going to, Kait?” he asked, getting an uneasy feeling about it all.

  “A convention meeting,” she said. “To present your father to trustees and leaders. And to secure their votes for his presidency.”

  He wanted no part of that. He didn’t want any part of promoting his father and his business, because it had nothing to do with life here, and –

  “It’s also an opportunity for you to tell them about Namibia,” Kait continued on calmly. “This is our chance to get more funding for our work here. Even more workers. They’ll have to listen to us now because Paul Connor’s son is on our team.”

  And suddenly, it all became clear to David.

  He could remember how they’d pursued him. Kait and Piet both, with phone calls and emails, even though he was just an average youth minister, with no real, paid experience or education towards this kind of work. He could remember how they’d been vague about what had gone on in Namibia, about what their long-term goals were –

  “You,” he said. “You lied to me.”

  “What?” Kait asked. “I never lied to you.”

  “You said you just stopped working for the board. Retirement for the last missionaries. You aren’t part of the board anymore. Then, why are they contacting you?”

  She glanced back at Piet.

  “Kait, what’s going on here?” David asked again, fearful of the response.

  “Well, first of all,” she said, “I never lied to you. I did work for the board like I told you. And then, I stepped down. And now... well, now they’ve asked me to do some work here, in getting you ready for the next thing.”

  “The next thing?” he asked. “And what do you mean, ‘they’ll have to listen to us now’? What happened here? What happened to the last missionaries?”

  Could it be that his father had known something back at that steak dinner?

  “They forced the others into retirement three years ago, David,” Piet said quietly. “Tried to close out all operations indefinitely here. But there was work left to do. And then, Mark told Kait that Paul Connor’s son had put in application with the board, and –”

  “You knew who my father was,” David said quietly as Piet tried to avoid his eyes. He turned to Kait. “And the only reason you wanted me here was because of him. You saw his name. Not mine. His. So you went for it. Not for the work. But because of what the exposure would do. Because of what would happen when he became president of the convention.”

  Kait was unapologetic. “I did,” she said. “I worked there for years, and when I came here and saw what was inevitably going to happen, I knew it would only be short-term, the loss of all workers. I knew I could eventually figure out a way to get workers back in. Would have taken years, probably, but I could have done it.
Starting with just one fulltime worker. The right one. And if we could make him successful, we could force the board’s hand. They need workers here, they need the visibility, and the whole infrastructure needs the funding. And then we heard about you. We went after you. We wanted you on the field. They wanted you on the field. And so they gave us funding for one missionary, and we made sure you wanted Namibia.”

  David swallowed, thinking on what she’d said before she’d spoken about what anyone wanted. “If you could make him succeed. You think I couldn’t do it on my own.”

  “No, David,” Piet said. “You did. We knew you could. But Kait’s right. We were all in on making you a success. Not for you but for the future of ministry here. And for the lives that were changed. The board was watching. We had one chance. And you did it. And now, you’re going to tell them, with your father giving approval, the whole convention turned towards Namibia, and..”

  But his words faded away, as David considered something more horrible than the news that he was who he was because Paul Connor was over it all.

  Cammie. Had she been in on it, too? Had she been pretending, just like Kait and Piet had?

  Was she pretending even now, reaching out, touching his face, saying so many wonderful things to him?

  “Did you know?” David asked her, hurt in the words.

  “I had no idea,” she said. “I didn’t even know you were here. Or the situation.”

  “We brought Camille in without knowing that there was a connection at all,” Kait said. “We couldn’t even find New Life-Dallas anywhere on her information.”

  “My parents moved when I went to college,” she said softly. “Chelsea was with Kyle at their church, so none of us were still there.” She looked to David. “That’s why I didn’t see you for so many years. I had no reason to come back to Dallas, with my parents gone.”

  He nodded at this, doubt in his eyes.

  “I swear to you, David,” she said softly. “I didn’t know anything about this.”

  And he believed her. His eyes darted back over to Kait’s. “Why Camille, then? If you didn’t know anything about her connection to New Life-Dallas? Why did you pick her?”

  “She knows enough people at the board because she’s been moved around so often. That’s why we wanted her. Of course, at the time, we didn’t know she was a woman, that she knew you, any of it. We just knew where she’d been, what she’d done. She was just a list of former jobs, without a name. She was almost as good as you. You were our connection to Paul Connor, and she was our model missionary.”

  David looked over at her, thinking about how the board had reduced her to just her work. How she’d stood on her own in that, how her value had been in what she’d done.

  Not who she was. Because she wasn’t Paul Connor’s kid.

  That’s what he’d been reduced to. Simply part of Paul Connor.

  Kait sighed, the stress evident on her face. “And then, she showed up. I picked her up at the airport, saw that she was young, pretty, well spoken. I knew the two of you would look good together for the rest of the convention to see. It was almost better that she was a woman.” Kait shrugged. “But it was just a lucky coincidence that she knew you beforehand. We didn’t know anything about that. But now, having her present with you will connect the rest of the dots. The board will listen. The trustees will listen. People will want to see personnel sent here. Money sent here. Paul Connor’s son is leading our team. Everyone can get behind that.”

  “But I’m nothing like him,” David said. “And I don’t want to be.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Kait said. “They’ll be looking for reasons to have anyone connected to him up on the platform. They’ve already made arrangements for John to speak about his church, about what he and Charity are seeing happen. Knew they’d look good up on the platform with your nephew, with her expecting again, giving proof to the fact that the convention’s not dying. It’s being built by young people, young families –”

  She knew everything. Kait knew everything about his life back in the States. And his nephew, his niece...

  “No way,” David gasped. “The baby… did Charity know? Did they know that this was going to happen, that dad was coming up for the presidency? That they would be promoting him, too? Is that why they got pregnant again –”

  “I’m sure they wanted their children, David,” Kait said calmly. “The convention couldn’t force them to have children, obviously. But there may have been a suggestion, about how it would help your father’s election process, how it would look… encouragement to go ahead…”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Cammie breathed out.

  “What have they done to Hope?” David asked, his voice cracking.

  “They haven’t done anything to anyone,” Piet said. “And Hope already made your father look good. Living at home, serving at New Life –”

  “They encouraged her to stay, didn’t they?” David cut in. “To stay close, since I was going overseas. That way, he had one child in pastoral ministry, one overseas, another at home being the dutiful, single daughter. That’s it, right?”

  Kait frowned. “They didn’t make decisions for any of you. But, yes, they might have suggested it to her. Given her reason to consider changing her plans. But that’s life. And to believe otherwise, to believe that we make decisions unaffected by those around us, is just naïve. Would you be here if things were different? I don’t know. It doesn’t even seem like a question worth asking at this point because you’re here.”

  And he was who he was. Would he be the same had he not been born into the Connor family? Most assuredly not.

  Who would he even be? Who was he now, if David Paul Connor, missionary to Africa, had suddenly been reduced to David Paul Connor, son of the man behind it all?

  What was the point of even asking?

  “So, the question isn’t how you got here but what you’re going to do now,” Kait said calmly. “Not for the convention. Not for your father. But for Namibia. For Christ and His purposes here.”

  David watched her silently.

  “This is the beginning of something good,” she said. “You’ll see it eventually, David. How you’ve done more for Namibia than you can imagine.” She handed Cammie a magazine. “And I’ve done most of the hard work for you already. You just get to go in and celebrate it.”

  “Oh, my,” Cammie murmured, holding the magazine up to David.

  The Legacy of Paul Connor. A picture of both Connor men, smiling under the headline. It was a recent picture, taken on the trip when he’d unexpectedly met up with Cammie again.

  Kait had her people working on it even then.

  “You’re his son, of course,” she said trying to reason with him, “and you and Camille both grew up under his pastorate. And everything here has been a success. The board wants you to present for them, be their star. They wouldn’t send anyone else. I suspected it was going to happen like this. I knew three years ago that your father was in line for this. And then? Your name showed up for appointment, David. When we needed exposure, for the convention to hear what was happening here, Paul Connor’s only son shows up looking for a place. It was like God gave you to us at just the right time.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked. “In all that time you were telling me about the needs here, practically begging me to come… why didn’t you tell me the real reason? It wouldn’t have changed the real needs here.”

  “Would you have come to Namibia?” Piet said. “If you’d known why we pursued you, why the board allowed you to come in a career capacity, even with your qualifications as they were –”

  “Which they weren’t, huh?” he asked. “I got this job because of my dad, didn’t I?”

  “It doesn’t mean you weren’t the right man,” Piet said. “Or that you haven’t been better than we could have ever hoped for. Or that we weren’t friends, David –”

  “Or that God hasn’t done a lot through you,” Kait added. “Which is what it comes down
to, right? Even you can agree to that, right, David? That the gospel came first. And that God was going to work through you. And He has. But originally, yeah. You were picked because of your father. And you’re here now because of him.”

  He’d done it. Paul Connor had followed him to Africa.

  How? How had he done it? How could David ever stand on his own?

  “Cammie?” he asked weakly.

  “I’m with you, David,” she responded.

  And without an explanation, he left the house, with Camille following him.