by Jenn Faulk
~David~
He was on his way to do Paul Connor’s bidding.
Again. Just like he had his whole life.
They’d gone back to Cammie’s house later that Christmas and had jumped right into the plans Kait had made. They needed some horrific missionary costumes, traditional Namibian clothes, being made for them at her request, because the board loved seeing their missionaries look like missionaries.
Whatever that meant.
Kait had also had their flight details, their schedule of events, their accommodations, and all of their transportation arranged. She’d even gone and gotten Camille a bottle of the magic happy pills she needed for anxiety on the flight.
Those magic happy pills had knocked Cammie out in Walvis Bay. David had very nearly had to carry her onto the plane in Cape Town, where she’d snuggled up against him and slept for the first half of the long journey.
Things weren’t all bad, honestly, he thought, as he looked down at her.
Not that things had progressed there. Not that he’d had a chance. He’d been so preoccupied with all that had been upended about his life, his purpose, and his work that figuring out things with Cammie had taken a backseat.
She’d been courteous to Kait and Piet while David had been curt. She’d listened to him complain about them, about his father, and about the whole mess, never quick to give a solution, always eager to hear him.
“We can’t hate them forever,” she had said.
And what she had really meant was, You can’t hate them forever, David. Because she hadn’t hated them for it. She’d seen their reasons, knew that they wanted to see Christ glorified in Namibia, and understood it.
But Cammie didn’t know about Paul Connor, about how none of his plans had anything to do with Namibia, about how he would just as soon pull their only missionary out from under them if he could so that he’d stay on top at New Life-Dallas.
Well, not their only missionary. Because David wasn’t alone out there anymore.
He smiled at this, even as his mind raced with all that waited for him in the States, as they made their one stop on the flight between continents.
The change in noise volume on the plane, as people moved around and stretched, broke Cammie out of her haze.
“Where are we?” she asked, glancing up at him and moving closer, her head on his chest.
He wasn’t alone. Praise God, he wasn’t alone.
“We’re halfway there,” he said softly. “In Senegal. They’re refueling the plane.”
She groaned, and he smiled, tentatively reaching out to smooth down her hair.
“I thought maybe we were there already,” she sighed. “I still have so far to go.”
“I know,” he murmured.
“I’m a nervous flyer,” she told him again. “You should’ve gotten me drunk, David.”
“Mmmm,” he sighed. “I did get you some water so you could take your magic happy pills. Remember that? Back in Walvis Bay?”
“I do,” she said, reaching her hand up to his face, outlining his lips with her finger, making his heart pound as she did so. “I’m probably doing this because I’m still drugged.”
“Regrettably, yes,” he said, smiling underneath her fingers, wishing for all the world that she was really doing this on her own. Then, holding her hand still, he kissed each finger softly.
“Did you take my pills, too?” she moaned softly, and his heart clenched at the sound.
“No, Cammie, this is all me,” he sighed, still beaming at her, putting her hand to his cheek.
“Cammie,” she said. “I like that you still think of me like that. Even if you were a little pervert who saw me in my underwear.” A pause. “And even if you’re still imagining me dancing around in your head. Shame on you...”
“I’m a guy,” he said. “I try to fight it, but you know.”
“Just as long as I’m by myself up there,” she sighed.
“Only you,” he whispered. “There’s never been anyone but you.”
“Wow,” she groaned again. “I really wish I could remember this conversation. So great.”
“Maybe we’ll have it again,” he said.
“Maybe,” she sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. “Remind me, David. Remind me.”
“If you remind me to remind you,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “Deal?”
“Then, it’s not going to happen,” she murmured. “I won’t remember to do that.”
“I know,” he said, kissing her on the forehead, glad for this, glad that he could feel the freedom to say these things now, if not ever again.
“Why wouldn’t you want me to remember?”
He watched her for a second, almost wistfully. “Because I don’t picture you dancing, up in my head, you know. And I didn’t back then. Not too often, at least.”
“Hmm,” she said, confusion on her face. “What do you picture? And why does that have anything to do with me remembering?”
“I picture you with the high school girls,” he said. “Sharing with them, giving them everything you have, teaching them to love Christ like you love Him, like you did when you were in high school. I remember that, watching you in youth that last summer, when I finally got to join the group. You were so serious about following Him, and when you talked about Him, I could hear your heart so clearly. You had the most beautiful heart. You still do.”
She said nothing for a long moment. So long that David said, “You’re out again, aren’t you?”
“No,” she said. “That’s the most wonderful thing anyone’s ever said to me. Why wouldn’t you want me to remember that?”
He thought about all he was facing, all that he’d been facing for so long in this. He thought about how helpful she was in the work, how helpful she was proving to be even now.
How much he needed her to face everything going on back home.
“Because I need you,” he said softly. “And I can’t be scaring you off by telling you that I’m really, really into you.”
“Maybe I’m into you, too,” she said.
He’d thought a few times that maybe, just maybe, she felt something more. But he was David Connor... and she was Cammie Evans.
He was just a man whose only significance was in who his father was.
“And maybe it’s just the magic happy pills talking,” he said, swallowing.
“David,” she said, her eyes closed, “maybe you need to just take a chance. Tell me how you really feel when I’m not on my magic happy pills. Because maybe the Cammie on the magic happy pills feels just like the one without them. It’s entirely possible.”
“Is it?” he asked, daring to believe her.
“Maybe the Cammie off the magic happy pills wants to make out with you,” she said, grinning, her eyes still closed.
“Well, that Cammie sounds very exciting,” he said, grinning as well.
“Exciting,” she murmured, pulling him closer. “She would definitely be that to you.”
“Oh, yeah,” he laughed softly.
“David?”
“Hmm?”
“Maybe,” she said, so softly that he had to move closer to hear her, “the Cammie off the magic happy pills... maybe she loves you, huh?”
Maybe. Maybe just a fraction of how much he loved her.
When he looked down at her, thinking of all the things he’d say and do if he was someone she’d only known in this context, as two people living their lives for Christ half a world away, instead of the boy who was even now doing the bidding of the past...
... well, he saw that she was fast asleep. Her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, and her mouth turned up towards his.
He smiled, pulling her closer, kissing her forehead, and falling asleep right beside her.