by Jenn Faulk
~Cammie~
She let herself enjoy him.
Being held, being touched, being close like this, to David who she’d known all of her life, who she was only just now discovering, as he kissed her cheek, brushed his face against hers softly, even as she closed her eyes and let herself memorize every detail.
And while there was something deep and intimate about holding one another, there was something very pure and rare in it, in knowing that they knew the best part of one another, a oneness in Christ, in mission, in feeling this way.
What a gift, on top of so many others.
So, with her heart pounding, she let him turn her around and felt her heart rejoice as he finally leaned in and kissed her. Nothing about it, about putting her hands slowly into his hair, opening her mouth beneath his, and allowing him to pull her closer, felt unnatural, unusual, strange. Everything about sharing this moment with him felt right, good, inevitable. And as he smiled and murmured “Cammie” in between kisses, she had a brief flash of who he’d been all those years ago, when she never would have imagined that she’d be in love with him now.
David Connor. So right. Right now. Forever.
She would have stayed there the rest of the night, honestly, being held, expecting nothing more, reveling in just this, agreeing silently with him, through lips and hands, mouths and fingertips, that they were more than they’d been.
And his smile. She could feel him smiling. She’d been too overcome at first to do much but breathe, just breathe, but only a few kisses in, his smiles were so insistent and familiar that she found herself smiling under his lips as well, murmuring, “David Paul Connor...”
“David Paul Connor! Yeah! You! With the goofy headset! We’re looking for David Paul Connor!”
They broke away fractionally at the sound of the loud voices wafting in their way from just outside the green room.
“Charity,” she whispered to him, still smiling at the twinkle in his eyes as he stared back at her.
And then, another voice piped up.
“Seriously, no one here has any idea what’s going on. This is a logistical nightmare. Way to look professional, Texas.”
“And Hope,” David whispered back, putting his hand to her face, sighing, looking at her with unabashed adoration.
He leaned in and kissed her one last time, even as his sisters’ voices carried on, just as loud as they had been in Cammie’s memories.
Without needing to explain it or make apologies, she and David let go of one another at the same time and turned to face the door, just as it sprung open to the Connor family.
Cammie recognized each twin instantly.
“David!” Charity shrieked, running towards him, which was quite the feat, given how advanced her pregnancy obviously was. The curvy, mature shape she’d carried so well in high school had naturally, beautifully changed to this – motherhood. Happy, healthy motherhood, where every curve and dip had a purpose as evidenced by the way she carried herself now and the little boy her sister carried for her.
Hope looked very nearly the way she had ten years earlier. Entirely different from her twin, slim and fit, with David’s height and her mother’s smile, even as she hugged her nephew while she smiled over at Charity, who was laughing in their brother’s arms.
She was followed by her mother, Phoebe, a woman who had always seemed regal and well refined to Cammie… and now seemed older, tired. Her eyes didn’t even drift Cammie’s way as she looked at her son, sighing and pulling a tissue out of her purse.
And then, there was Paul Connor.
He saw Cammie instantly… and smiled.
“Cammie Evans,” he said. “Glory be.”
And before he could elaborate on what exactly he meant by this, Charity and Hope both turned to her and gasped.
“Cammie!” Charity exclaimed, moving to her now. “We heard! Well, we saw… the magazine. The article about you. My word! Of all the people in the world –”
“You and David, in the same place,” Hope said, crossing the distance between them, hugging her old friend. “You look great, by the way.”
“But that dress is doing nothing for you,” Charity piped up, coming over to embrace her as well, a wink in her eye.
The past. Forgiven and forgotten. Or close to it.
“It is a rather unfortunate choice,” Phoebe murmured. “But you look lovely, Cammie. A little flushed maybe, but –”
“All for show,” Cammie managed, her cheeks blushed even more, as she went to patting Charity on the back. “The dress. The makeup. They did it to David, too.”
“And he has lipstick on his face,” Phoebe muttered, finally pulling out that tissue, licking it, and attempting to wipe David’s mouth for him.
“Mom, please,” he blushed, embracing her to avoid the tissue.
“They put makeup on your father for the convention presentations, too,” she said, rubbing his back. “But he draws the line at lipstick. You should tell them that you do, too.”
“Most definitely,” Charity said. “And it’s a bad color on you anyway. Looks like they put the same color on Cammie. Glory! Who have they got doing makeup around here?!”
Cammie blushed and looked from one Connor woman to the next, wondering if they were seeing the covert glances David was sending her way as he attempted to wipe her lipstick from his lips.
But they were oblivious. Thankfully.
Paul Connor? Wasn’t, given the way he kept grinning... and raised his eyebrows at his son with an affirming head nod and a glance back over at Cammie.
Discerning. So discerning. And unnerving.
“Well,” she managed, hearing the shrill edge to her voice, not for what she felt for David but for it all coming out right here and right now before the meeting even really got started, “I’ll leave you all to catch up before we’ve got to leave for the dinner.”
David opened his mouth to protest, actually stepping closer to her, but Charity spoke before he could.
“Mercy, no, Cammie,” she said. “You’re with the family tonight. Giving your presentation alongside David. Then joining us at our table. Just another Connor.”
At this, Hope laughed loudly. Inappropriately, actually, given that no one else knew why she was laughing.
“Goodness, Hope,” Phoebe murmured. “What?”
“Just remembering that time Cammie went on vacation with us. That big lodge thing. You know, with the water park inside?”
Cammie remembered it. They’d spend all day in the pool and half the night. She’d leave the room she was sharing with the twins, already dressed in her swimsuit, and head down to breakfast. It never failed – David was always there, every morning, where they’d sit together and eat themselves full then head to the pool. They were the only ones there for at least an hour before the rest of the resort showed up, and they’d take turns doing flips off the diving board and racing one another back and forth up and through all the stairs.
She’d acted his age on those mornings, suddenly maturing and ignoring him as soon as his sisters arrived.
But it had been fun. She’d remembered that.
“I remember that,” Charity grinned. “And Cammie’s wristband. They didn’t even ask. Thought the three of us were sisters. Cammie Connor. You were one of us for a week.”
“In spirit and in name,” Hope affirmed, grinning even brighter. “Cammie Connor.”
“Cammie Connor,” Phoebe smiled softly, remembering.
“Cammie Connor,” Paul laughed, looking over at his son.
But David was watching her, not even aware of the appraising scrutiny of his father. “Cammie Connor,” he breathed.
“That’s me,” Cammie managed. “Well... it was me. For a week.”
“And it will be again,” Hope said.
“Pardon?” Cammie asked, her pulse racing as she was certain that everyone was staring now and could tell what she was thinking. Being in David’s arms, running her hands up his chest, telling him, very sincerely, as he smiled down at her, “
I take you, David Paul Connor...”
“Tonight,” Charity said. “Come and have dinner with us. One of the Connor family.”
She took a breath, glancing over at David, releasing it when he nodded.
“We need to be heading that way,” Phoebe said, already turning and heading out, putting her arm through Paul’s as he led them away with Hope and Charity following him.
And David reached out and squeezed her hand in his for just a brief moment as they followed as well.