Endorsements for Kicking Eternity

First Place Long Contemporary
2009 Romance Writers of America
Faith, Hope, and Love Contest



“In Kicking Eternity, Ann Lee Miller masterfully weaves the delicate web of emotions experienced in that turbulent ‘twenty-something’ stage of life. Powerful family dynamics, intense loyalty challenges, and tender new loves find their niche in your heart as this story unfolds layer by lovely layer.”
Mesu Andrews, Author of  Revell titles Love’s Sacred Song, and Love Amid the Ashes, which won the 2012 CBA Book of the Year, New Author Category

“Ann Lee Miller writes stories straight from the heart with characters who'll become friends, remaining with you long after you turn that final page. You won't want to miss Kicking Eternity!” 
Jenny B. Jones, Author of the Katie Parker Production Series from Think and The Charmed Life Series, and other single titles from Thomas Nelson

"I've lost hours of sleep reading Ann Lee Miller's work due to her uncanny ability to yank me into a story with authentic, lovable, yet challenging characters."
Lynn Rush, author of Wasteland, Awaited, and Prelude to Darkness from Crescent Moon Press.

Kicking Eternity
By
Ann Lee Miller

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

Kicking Eternity, All Rights Reserved, 2012

Copyright © 2012 Ann Lee Miller
Smashwords Edition

Published by Flawed People Press
Gilbert, Arizona

Produced in the United States of America

Cover Art by Robin Roberts at Red Red Design
RedRedDesign.com
Ashland, Ohio

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the owner and may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical, without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com. Thank you for your support.

Note from the author: For you turtle enthusiasts—I am aware that fires are outlawed on the beach during turtle nesting season. I hope you will cut me some slack for burning imaginary fires in the middle of nesting season. I assure you, no turtles were harmed in the course of writing this book.

To learn more about Ann’s books and what is coming next from this talented author visit www.AnnLeeMiller.com. You can follow Ann on Twitter (@AnnLeeMiller) or Like her Facebook Author Page: Ann Lee Miller

For Luke & Lauren

who are living the love story and the future God wrote

Chapter 1

Raine pushed the beads on her African bracelet back and forth like the balls on an abacus. Her stomach kneaded, gurgled. She could almost feel sweat dampen her upper lip.
Drew’s forehead creased as he stared at her. Fluorescent tubes hummed overhead in the night air. Shouts and back-slapping ricocheted around the Canteen porch in the sticky-sweet scent of orange blossoms. If she wasn’t fighting to keep her dinner down, she’d tell him where they’d met.
His frown melted into a smile of recognition. “Rainey. Hey. Welcome to Triple S Camp.” 
She bristled at the nickname her brothers used to irritate her. “It’s Raine.”
 “I remember you as Rainey from the skit you did in junior high youth group. You cried all over the place—a pun on your name.”
“That was my total acting career… and ancient history. Better off forgotten. Please.”
“Sure, Rainey, whatever you say.”
“Drew!”
“You remember my name.”
“You weren’t exactly low profile either.” She, like every girl in the youth group, had spent way too much time mooning at the high-school-Drew hunched over his guitar.
Jesse, the camp director, gave a shrill blast on his whistle. “Welcome to New Smyrna Beach Surf and Sailing Camp orientation.”
The noise ratcheted down. Thirty staffers in aquamarine shirts settled onto the benches lining the porch.
Raine swallowed and unclenched her fingers from the camp handbook. She refused to heave like she had at college orientation four years ago. Her thumb ran over the ridges in her palm where the spiral wire had dug into the flesh. Why had she never been to camp like any normal kid?
A guy in surf shorts and flip-flops came up the steps laughing with the girl beside him. Sun-white cords of hair, crimped like he’d worn braids, brushed his thick shoulders. He caught Raine staring. The interest crackling in his blue gaze jolted through her.
She let her chin-length hair fall like a dark curtain between them. A guy was one complication she didn’t need this summer, not when Africa was nearly in her grasp.
Jesse, who’d hired her, dragged a podium across the porch to the snack bar window. He cleared his throat. Out of the corner of her eye, Raine saw the surfer and the girl take seats halfway around the porch.
Jesse read the camp rules and Raine highlighted them with a pink marker. His voice blended with the drone of the crickets. As he launched into the sailing rules, her stomach calmed.
Across the dirt road, yellow floodlights bathed a wall of the dark dining hall. The camp office and cabins flanked the building like dark-skinned children marching in a row all the way to the hulking gym. She had Africa on the brain.
Drew’s elbow jarred her ribs. “Rainey, introduce yourself,” he whispered.
She sprang to her feet. “I’m Raine—” She just stopped herself from saying Rainey. “Zigler. I’ll be teaching Bible.” She shot a glare at Drew and sat down with a thump. Was that a snicker coming from somewhere near the snack bar?
Drew’s knee creaked as he rose. “Drew Martin, Rec Director.”
As the adrenalin ebbed, her attention strayed back to the moonlit village of forest-green structures with tarpaper roofs bleached gray by the Florida sun. This would be her home for the next three months. Please, God, I need some friends.
The surfer stood. “I’m Cal Koomer, teaching art for the third summer in a row. Someday I’m going to get a life.”
Laughter rippled through the counselors. With a grin Cal slouched onto the bench. His eyes traveled over Raine like she was a Wooster custom surfboard he was thinking about buying.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she looked away.
“Aly Logan.” Cal’s friend wore slacks and a button-down blouse. “I’m the college intern in the camp office.”
Wait, wasn’t Aly her roommate’s name?
After Jesse instructed them on navigating the septic system and handed out the night watch rotation, chatter swelled around Raine.
Drew let out a low whistle. “You’re the hotshot Bible teacher fresh out of college?”
“I’ve been teaching Sunday school for years. It’s not a big deal.”
“I thought the Bible was a big deal.”
“Of course I think the Bible is important or I wouldn’t focus my life on it.” Shyness clipped her words. She’d pay money about now to relax and make normal conversation.
Yellow flecks danced in his eyes. “Just checking.”
His teasing buzzed annoyance through her. “After camp, I’ll be teaching Bible in an orphanage a couple hours outside Entebbe, Uganda.”
Drew’s golden brows stretched into McDonald’s arches.
Well now, that was better.
The sun-browned kid thwacked Drew’s arm and pushed his Dakine surf cap up on his forehead. “Boss-man, dude—”
Drew turned to talk to his assistant.
Raine twisted the colored beads in her rawhide bracelet. She felt ten again, sitting alone on the edge of Aqua Park Pool while everyone else swam with friends. Her palms sweated. Insects circled between the lights and the rafters. She had to get away from here.
A clear shot to the steps off the porch opened up and she darted for them. Someone stepped in her way and she barreled into him.
A thick hand clamped onto her arm. “Whoa, girl!” Cal.
“I’m sorry. What a klutz—”
“Are you okay? Break anything? Need a blood transfusion? Mouth to mouth?”
A nervous laugh tumbled out of her lips. “I’m fine. Fine. Really. You can let go now.” 
“I think you look a little rocky.” He grinned at her before he dropped his hand.
Her skin tingled where his grip had been. The citrus scent of Cal’s still-damp hair filled her nostrils. She took a small step back, her leg bumped a bench.
Aly shot a glance at Cal. “There he is.” She spun away, her waist-length ponytail arcing behind her.
Cal swatted Aly’s shoulder blade. “Stay out of trouble.”
Aly waved him off and charged toward a guy who could have modeled for Ocean Pacific.
Cal shook his head. “Aly can spot a user at a hundred yards.”
“A user?” Did he mean heroin, crack, crystal meth, or something else altogether?
“Never mind. Let me guess, you were homeschooled.” His tone said she didn’t have a clue about how the rest of the world lived.
She had way more than a clue, but she let it slide. “How did you know?”
“Jesse’s my brother. Awesome source of info on the new hires.”
She peered across the porch at the camp director. Cal and Jesse sported similar Roman noses.
People filtered off the porch. A group stood under the gazebo debating whether affection for Twilight would impair one’s spiritual life. Several yards away, Aly pulled the clip from her hair and shook it free. Ocean Pacific’s eyes locked on the strands.
Raine needed to say something, anything. Or escape. She glanced over her shoulder at Drew, but he still talked with his assistant. She turned toward the steps. “See you around.”
“I’ll walk you to your cabin.”
She drew in a shaky breath. What was his agenda? She didn’t want to deal with his disdain when she was a breath from total freak-out.
Cal fell into step with her on the dirt road leading past the cabins. “So, Raine Zigler, where does the homeschooling path lead?”
“Where do you think I’m going?”
“Testy, are we?”
She softened her voice. “Where am I going?”
“Homeschool, college, camp Bible teacher—the natural next step is Christian school teacher. Marriage to a guy with a similar pedigree, babies, homeschooling. The circle of life is complete.”
“Actually, I’m going to Africa.”
He stopped. Fine white lines spoked the corners of his eyes as he stared at her.
“I’ve wanted to be a missionary to Africa my whole life.”
Cal’s jaw went rigid under a day’s shadow of beard. “Hardcore Christian.” 
Her heart knocked a staccato rhythm in her chest, but she couldn’t look away. “Meaning?”
“Untried.”
“I live in the same world you do. I’m challenged every day.”
Cal’s laugh rang hollow. “Right.”
“Fine. Think what you want.” She started to turn, but his gaze seared through her. Maybe he could see. She certainly felt untried at the moment. 
“Come out to the beach with me and Aly some night after campfire.”
She broke away from his gaze and headed toward her cabin. She glanced back at him. “Aly, your girlfriend?” The words flew out of her mouth before she could rein them in. 
“A sibling I inherited through marriage. Jesse is married to her sister.”
Adrenaline mainlined through her body. For sure he thought she was into him. “What’s your road?” 
“I was king of the monkey bars in second grade. I’d balance one foot on each of the highest bars—until the teacher made me get down. That was pretty much the high point of my life. Been trying to get back there ever since.”
She stopped in front of her cabin. “Figuratively?”
“Well, yeah. I want to be Harry Morgan.”
“Who?”
“Owner of Pink Taco Restaurants. Under thirty. Dates starlets. I want to have my picture in People. Top of the monkey bars.”
She paused on the first step and looked at him. Am I supposed to know this guy?
“Never mind.
Raine moved up the steps feeling as ignorant as Cal thought she was.
“Later.”
“Wait.”
Yellow porch light warmed his cheeks but left his eyes in shadow. 
“I-I’d like to hear about Triple S from someone who knows the camp.”
Cal shrugged. “That would be me. Been coming here most of my life.”
“Is it easy to get to know people?”
“Homeschooling leave you short on friends?”
She gave a dry laugh. “I spent my childhood with my nose pressed against the living room window watching the other kids catch the school bus.” She sat on the top step, eye level with Cal. “Commuting three hours a day to college wasn’t a whole lot better.”
“You could do worse for a place to dive into life. I’ve ditched most of the rules and religion I grew up with. But I still love this place. The people.”
“How did you snag a job at a Christian camp feeling the way you do about faith?”
“Nepotism is alive and well at the Triple S. Jesse, no doubt, thinks camp will boomerang me back to God.”
“Would you talk a camper out of his faith?”
“Jesse should’ve had you interview me.”
“Well?”
“What’s the point of wrecking a kid’s faith? Maybe I was happier when I swallowed everything I was taught. I don’t know.” He laughed. “You, on the other hand, have the primo resume. Wannabe missionary. And I bet Jesse got you for cheap fresh out of college. Mom would do cartwheels around the yard if I ever brought home a girl like you.”
“You say that like I’m the last girl on the planet you’d bring home.”
“Pretty much.” He held up his hands. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re beautiful—high cheekbones, ivory skin, internal sparklers behind your eyes. Just not my type. Naïve. Über.”
She sling-shotted from euphoria to irritation. “I don’t know whether to be awed you noticed all that in two minutes under fluorescent light—”
“I’m an artist. It’s what I do.”
“Don’t spoil it—or should I be insulted that you’ve smacked a naïve label on me.”
“Look, there’s no way a girl who was homeschooled can survive in the real world.” He shifted position, and she could see his grin. “Educating you this summer could be a public service.”
“I can hardly wait.”
“Oooh. The Bible teacher does sarcasm.” He waved and stepped away from the cabin. “A public service, I’m telling you.” Cal’s voice trailed off as he moved away.
Raine slipped inside. She inhaled the metallic scent of old screen and watched Cal disappear around the corner of the last cabin.
He was a spinning vat of colors. Part of her wanted to jump in and twirl around. Part of her wanted to sprint for the gate out of camp.
He’d called her beautiful.

#

Cal shook his head and chuckled to himself as he strode away. Educating Raine was going to be serious fun.
He crossed the athletic field. Tomorrow the rectangle would fill up with sound and children and color. The anticipation he’d felt as a kid welled up in him.
A breeze ruffled the pines beside the gym in the moonlight. Cal’s eyes caught a flash of blond hair, a couple making out in the shadows near the gym doors. Aly. Nobody else had hair that long. And likely Garner Fritz, the guy she’d bee-lined toward on the Canteen porch. 
Aly had gone out with a long succession of guys, trying to find one to plug into the place her father left empty. It didn’t take a psychologist to figure that out.
He picked up a rock, tossed it in his hand. Aly’s love language was touch. He’d heard Dad preach on the topic back when he used to listen. Cal made a point of touching Aly in a platonic way whenever they were together, but it hadn’t kept her from going out with jerks like Gar Fritz. He tossed the stone again and fired it at the side of the gym. It smacked against the bark siding ten feet from the couple. Aly and Gar sprang apart a heartbeat before Cal ducked out of sight.
Maybe that would help.

#

Raine dropped a pair of shorts into the scarred dresser drawer. The screen door squeaked open, then slapped shut against the doorframe. Aly breezed into the room looking like a Barbie whose hair had been bunched into a clip by a small child. A smudge of lipstick clung to one corner of her mouth.
Raine smiled at her. “Hey.”
“Oh, it’s you.” Aly blew her breath out and ran an appraising look over Raine. Her gaze stopped on the crook of Raine’s arm.
Raine scooped a quilt over her scar. She forced a smile into her voice. “Which bunk do you want?”
“I’ll take the top.” She snagged Raine’s dog-eared Bible off the upper bunk and tossed it onto the plastic mattress below. “How did I score the Bible teacher?”
Raine gritted her teeth. “I’m not ‘the Bible teacher.’ I’m Raine.” She would make friends this summer. With Aly. “I’ve got three older brothers, a psychotic Great Dane named Antoine, and my favorite show is Lost.”
A wry smile broke out on Aly’s face. “Lost. Isn’t that what you call people like me?”
“Are you?”
Aly nibbled off the rest of her lipstick. “In my sister’s opinion.”
“And in yours?”
“I know exactly where I’m going and how to get there. I’m half-way to a BA in marketing and I will own my own business before I’m twenty-five.” 
Raine started to answer, but Aly cut her off. “This is where you tell me I’m going to hell.”
God, give me patience. “Look, I don’t know where all your drama is coming from, but I’m not the enemy. I could use a friend. If you don’t want to talk about God, fine.”
“Maybe I don’t need another friend.” But Aly’s voice had lost its hard edge.
“Let’s say we’ll try to get along since we’re stuck in the same room for the summer.”
Aly eyed her for a long moment. “Done.” She reached a slim-boned hand out to Raine. Raine’s fingers tightened around Aly’s.
“So, you have the hots for Cal, huh?”

Chapter 2

Drew headed down the stairs from the apartment he shared with his brother, Kurt. He kneed the laundry basket heaped with his clean clothes to get a better grip and continued down the steps toward his truck.
A smile crept across his face as he remembered how red Rainey’s cheeks went when he’d embarrassed her last night at staff orientation.
His brother tossed Drew’s duffle into the back of the truck and looked up at him. “What’s so funny?”
Drew jumped down the last two steps. “Rainey Zigler.”
“You’re interested in a girl?” Kurt’s voice went up at the end, hopeful.
“Intrigued.”
“About time you got over Samantha.” Kurt rapped his knuckles against Drew’s arm. “Got any more gear for me to bring down?”
“That’s it. I’ll take the truck up to camp and move in later.” He hefted the basket into the truck bed. “Rainey was in junior high when I led worship for her youth group. Braces and braids—who knew she’d grow up so hot?” Drew looked up and stopped cold. 
Kurt buried his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. His face had turned the color of sand. 
“What’s wrong?” Had Kurt gotten a text that someone died or was critically injured? Family members swirled through his mind. “Just say it already.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but since you brought up this Rainey… I’m going to Japan. Two years. Teaching English as a second language.”
Drew grabbed the truck gate, lightheaded. “What? Why? Two years. Are you crazy?”
“It was hard enough to make the decision without you trying to talk me out of it.”
“Like I—”
“You would have.”
Drew bit down on his anger. He wouldn’t spit out words he’d regret later. “So, your mind’s made up.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair like he could push the information into his head somehow. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
“My whole life.”
Kurt’s fascination with Anime, sushi, and all things Japanese swam into his mind. “But you never talked about going there to live.”
“It’s past time to cut bait with Cheri. I’m not marrying her. If I don’t go now, I’ll never go.”
Drew gave a dry laugh. “Never did understand what you saw in the control queen.”
“I’m doing it as much for you as for me.”
“You sound like Dad when he used to get out the belt.”
Kurt smiled. “No, that was, ‘This is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you.’ And that’s true.”
“How is this good for me?”
“Samantha did a number on you, and you’ve got to deal with it. Take me out of the equation. Now you have to face it.”
“And I get equal time to ream you about Cheri, the ship that should have sailed after two weeks instead of two years—”
“Take your best shot.”
Drew shook his head. “This would make the grandmomma of all April Fool’s jokes.”
“It’s May. Besides, you’re the go-to guy for fun. At least, you used to be.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but Kurt cut him off. “It’s been six years. You’re not bouncing back like I keep praying. If I’m gone, I’m not your excuse for a life.”
The sting of Kurt’s words knocked Drew back like a punch. He’d followed Kurt since he could walk. “I’ve been a pest?”
Kurt cracked a smile as he came around the truck. “Yeah, when you were in diapers. The point is, I need to go to Nagasaki. A side benefit is that my going will force you to deal with your stuff.”
“Whatever. When?”
“As soon as I can pull it together.”

#

Raine toweled dry her hair. Morning sun and the scent of oleander poured in through the weather-beaten window. Today the campers would arrive, and tomorrow she’d teach her first class.
An older teenage girl with a riot of mahogany curls poked her head into the long community bathroom across the back of the cabin.
“Morning! I’m Missy, I’m one of the Cabin Three counselors. Cori is the other one, but I don’t know where she is.”
“Hi, I’m Raine.”
Missy hovered in the doorway. “Sorry I didn’t meet you last night. There was this totally hot guy, Jayson, out in the gazebo after staff meeting with a bunch of other people. I couldn’t go in until they all left so I could talk to Jayson. And the campers come today. I can’t believe I’m a real counselor this year, not a CIT—that’s counselor-in-training—like I was last summer. We’ve got junior high girls this week. Isn’t that so cool? I’m Jesse’s, you know, the camp director’s, kid sister—”
“So, you’re Cal’s sister, too.”
Missy’s eyes narrowed mirroring one of Cal’s mannerisms. She gave Raine an impish smile. “His name’s not really Cal. It’s John. When he was little he was, like, a Calvin and Hobbes freakazoid and changed his name to Calvin. Obviously, it stuck. One time he called from Circle K to ask if Dad knew where he was in the middle of the night—because Calvin did that to his dad.”
“He really did that ?”
Missy shrugged. “Family myth. I dunno. Hey, welcome to Triple S. It’s going to be an awesome summer. I’m going to the kitchen to see if I can score some Fruit Loops and maybe a peek at Jayson. Shh, don’t tell.”
Raine smiled at herself in the mirror as she combed the knots out of her damp hair. In less than twenty-four hours at camp, she had a start on four friendships.

#

Drew dug his feet into shelly sand still warm from the sun. Sparks flew up from the fire behind Jesse who strummed his guitar and sang a quiet worship song. The surf crashed and receded beneath the music, a divine metronome reflecting a thousand pinpricks of starlight and a hooded moon. Teens and their counselors fanned around the fire in a semicircle.
Drew’s gaze caught on a filmy bit of flowered material fluttering at Rainey’s shoulder. Her legs curled to one side. Three junior high girls huddled close to her. Firelight warmed her cheeks. For a moment, sadness seemed to cloak her. The corners of her lips turned up at the children vying for her attention. Now Rainey grinned at the girls who were shaking with suppressed laughter.
Maybe he was projecting his own loneliness onto Rainey. The look he’d seen on her face nailed how he’d felt since Kurt told him about Japan.
Kurt would get it out of his system and come home in a couple of years. Drew didn’t want to think about all the conversations they’d had about missions and giving God your all.
As much as he resented his big brother’s psychoanalysis, maybe Kurt was right. He had been chewed up over Sam far too long. He’d check out her Facebook page—maybe. Still, a stubborn kernel of hope would not die. What if Sam was the woman God meant for him? He sighed. He always ended with the same question.
The music faded, and Jesse spoke to the group. “You need to have three friends, one who is more mature, one who’s an equal, and one to mentor.”
Jesse would be a good choice for a mature friend. Maybe they could start running together after campfire. And Keenan, his assistant, was a no-brainer for someone he could mentor. But an equal? That was probably what he needed most.
God, show me who.
He looked at Rainey. Her chin rested on her knees drawn up in front of her. She wiped a tear away with her pinkie.
Lord, comfort Rainey.
Rainey crying in a skit had been hilarious years ago, but the real thing tore at his gut.

#

Raine dusted the sand off her shorts and watched Missy herd girls together for the two-block walk back to camp from the beach. A storm clawed at the dark horizon. Somewhere far beyond the yellow-blue-white of the campfire, her brother, Eddie, struggled against phantoms she didn’t understand.
Something was going very wrong with Eddie tonight. She could feel it. He never called at times like this, but it didn’t matter. She knew. Eddie’s trouble—whatever it was this time—had gnawed at her all evening, a visceral fear. Cords tying her to Eddie wound around her like the roots of a hundred-year-old redwood. She would hack free as soon as she could. Africa was freedom.
Eddie’s black years had taught her there was only one relief—prayer. And prayer could mean hours of wrestling with God, like Jacob, except she was fighting for Eddie and not for herself. She didn’t know if you could wrestle for someone else’s soul, but she had to try.
She ached for God to step in and take care of whatever evil Eddie had linked hands with—this time. She doubted Eddie knew or cared. When God answered, she would slump, exhausted like an airless tetherball.
Rescue him. Protect him from other people, himself. Give him the desire to get help. Oh, Jesus. Please. Another bead on the string of prayers she’d prayed tonight beside the fire.
She bit down on her lip till she tasted blood.
Missy waved at someone and Raine glanced over her shoulder to see who it was.
Aly and Cal moved toward the churning waves. Cal carried a bundle under one arm. He raised a hand to greet his sister and stopped mid-wave when he saw Raine.
Did Cal feel it too, the lightning bolt of attraction that knocked her back a step on the sand? She wanted to throw herself into its current—something powerful enough to distract her from Eddie.
Arm still aloft, Cal motioned for Raine to join them.
She dug her heels into the soft sand one after another—shoving Eddie into God’s hands one last time—till she reached the hard-packed shoreline where Cal and Aly waited. The clouds had blown by and moonlight bathed the beach.
Raine made eye contact with Aly, asking wordless permission to come along. She didn’t want to upset the tenuous truce between them.
Aly shrugged. Her eyes flitted between Raine and Cal. Her brows shot up and she opened her mouth to say something.
Raine cut Aly off. “I haven’t seen you guys at a campfire yet this week. Don’t you like them?” She fell into step between Aly and Cal as they strolled along the shore.
The wind blew Aly’s hair across her face, and she caught it in her fist. “We get enough religion at this place without begging for more.”
“People can be spiritual without doing things exactly the way you do,” Cal said. “Take Taoism for example. When we get into the flow of how things are supposed to go, everything goes smoothly. When we’re not in the Tao, we’re gulls flying against the Gulf Stream. What does that remind you of?”
Raine racked her brain for some tidbit of knowledge from her comparative religion class that would give her a clue to what Cal was talking about.
“Think about it. The Tao sounds like God’s will. I’ve heard my dad preach a hundred sermons on how things go better when you’re in God’s will.”
Raine stopped dead in the sand. “Your dad’s a preacher?”
Cal and Aly kept walking. Raine caught up with them.
Aly smiled. “Watch out, Cal, maybe you’re genetically wired for priesthood.”
He laughed. “Not for celibacy.” He turned to Raine. “Aly talks Catholic-ese. Every pastor is a priest. Church services of all kinds are masses. She swears in Catholic.”
“I do not swear.”
“What do you call ‘mother of God’ and whipping out the sign of the cross at unholy moments?” Cal said.
“Well, only in extreme circumstances.”
“You drink like a Catholic.” Cal unwrapped the sweatshirt bundle under his arm and tugged a Coors Light out of the six-pack. He tossed it to Aly.
Grinning, Aly caught the beer.
Cal handed one to Raine. The chill of the aluminum crept all the way up to her elbow.
He popped the tab on his can and took a long pull, his eyes on her.
“What’s the matter, Raine?” Aly tore the metal ring from her can. “Never had a beer before?”
Her silence answered for her.
Cal wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You know, the Bible says not to get drunk. It never says you can’t drink alcohol.”
“That’s true.” Raine had never been offered alcohol. Meth, yes. Of course she wasn’t doing any drugs, but would a Bible teacher drink beer? What had her contract said?
Cal took another swig. “I bet you always drive the speed limit.”
Their grilling was getting old. “What if I do?”
“Figures,” Aly said.
Raine turned toward Aly. “You think it’s easy driving the speed limit? I spent the last four years of my life in a hurry. I wanted to speed.”
“But you didn’t,” Aly said.
Raine brushed the hair out of her face. “The Bible says, ‘Give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.’”
“Come on,” Cal said, “you know that’s talking about paying taxes—”
Aly broke in, “You two can debate the Bible all night if you want, but the bottom line is that you’re one of those girls who always does everything by the book.”
“You make obedience sound like a character flaw.” Raine hated the defensiveness in her voice.
“Why do you obey?” Aly threw it down like a gauntlet. “You follow rules because it makes you feel good.”
“I want to make God feel good.”
“You want to look down on the rest of us.”
Anger blazed through Raine. Aly had no idea what her motives were.
“When you’re perfect, you can do that sad little shake of the head that says, ‘I pity you’ to the rest of us.”
“I never—”
Aly spun toward Cal. “I know you’re all about introducing the ‘hottie Bible teacher’ to real life, but I can’t do this.” Aly threw her beer into a clump of seaweed and spun around. She tore off down the beach, her hair catching the moonlight as it streamed behind her, an ethereal ribbon.
Raine gaped. “Where did that come from?”
Cal shrugged. “Aly’s got issues that have nothing to do with you.”
“She doesn’t know me. Is that what you think, too?
“I think exactly what Aly said.” Cal leaned back against a slab in the jetty and looked at her. “That you’re a hottie.”
The anger sucked out of her and something just as incendiary washed in. She dropped her gaze from Cal’s smirk.
“And you probably need an education—”
Her head jerked up.
“I get your Biblical reference, but how many normal people would get it?” Cal pushed off the rocks and took hold of her shoulders. “If you’re going to be a missionary, you’re going to have to learn to relate to people who don’t know the Bible or live by its rules.”
His words were true, and they sliced into her heart. She felt the tears forming in her eyes, the constricting of her throat, but she was locked into Cal’s hard stare. She knew she exposed her heart, but she couldn’t stop herself. His fingers warmed her skin through the cotton of her sleeve.
She broke away and hunched her shoulders into the wind. Cal wasn’t going to see her lose it altogether. He batted her ignorance around like a badminton birdie. She should confront his disdain. Or, at least, stay away from him. But everything in her wanted to prove herself to Cal.
He came alongside her. They walked in silence until she heard the snap of Cal opening another beer. She looked over at him.
He took a swallow.
Raine stretched her hand toward him. “Here, let me have the beer.” She snatched the can before she could analyze her motives. “I might as well start my education.” She put the can to her lips and let the cool liquid wash into her mouth. Her taste buds burned and popped with a rancid flavor that seemed to fill her whole head. She spewed it on the sand.
Cal laughed. “You should see your face.”
Raine licked the back of her hand trying to get the residue off her tongue.
Cal gripped his stomach and laughed harder. “I guess it’s an acquired taste.”
Finally, Raine laughed, too. They headed toward the road back to camp. She never expected to laugh tonight.

Chapter 3

Drew glanced over at Kurt who stared through the truck windshield, his bony knee rat-a-tat-tatting against the glove box. Kurt had thrown this trip together like he thought he’d lose the courage if he didn’t do it immediately.
Drew was still in shock. He eased the truck alongside the Level Three curb in front of the Orlando Airport and sucked in a long breath. This was it.
They piled out of the truck. Drew let down the gate. Everything in him seized, not wanting to let Kurt go.
Kurt slid his oversized bags to the edge of the gate and slung his backpack on top of them. He looked up. “I love you, man. I hate putting the miles between us.”
Drew felt the tears fill up and spill down his cheeks as he stepped around the truck bed toward his brother, but he didn’t care. He threw his arms around Kurt’s knobby shoulders. “I’m going to miss you.” As he hung on, he felt the jerk in Kurt’s chest—Kurt who never cried, not even when he broke his femur playing football.
They let go, and Drew sluiced his face with the crook of his arm. He shook his head back and forth at the guy who had been there for him every day of his life.
Kurt rubbed his eyes with his palms and pulled himself together. “Call me on Skype when you can laugh, really laugh, again.”
“I’ll call before that.”
The driver of an SUV laid on the horn behind them.
Kurt shrugged into his backpack and hefted his bags off the gate. He pinned Drew with a look. “Call Samantha.”

#

Cool, damp sand pressed against the arches of Raine’s feet. The storm that had threatened in the evening had made land during the night. Fresh-washed air filled her lungs. Diamonds of sunlight glinted off the calm Atlantic. She’d spend her time with God on the beach every day. Could she store up enough beach fixes for a lifetime in landlocked Uganda?
The faint strum of a guitar drifted toward her. Who would be on the beach at six a.m.? Was that Drew’s flyaway hair? He sat on the beach facing the surf, his body bent over his guitar.
His hair had been short in high school, gelled and spiked as he belted out worship. He’d made her feel like only he and God were in the room. She and every other kid in junior high youth group had been forced to think about God whether they wanted to or not.
She moved across the sand until she could hear what he was singing. His eyes were closed and his chin lifted toward the sunrise.
“Ooo-oo Jehovah, Jesus,
Rising on the morning sun.
Reaching across the water.
Filling the places where I’m empty.
Giving me what I need.
Bein’ the friend I need,
Ooo-oo Jehovah, Jesus.”
Pain poured out of his raspy, morning voice. She slipped away, feeling like she’d walked into his soul without permission. Did Drew write the song? Was he singing a prayer? Drew’s words followed her down the beach. Filling the places where I’m empty. Giving me what I need.
Raine’s life was an empty room—unless she counted Eddie, hunkered down in one corner, his face buried in his hoodie. From inside the room she could hear the muffled sounds of the rest of her family and her college acquaintances living their lives.
Jesse preached about three kinds of friends. She wasn’t stuck in an empty room anymore. She was at Triple S, and she would make friends.
Her thoughts drifted to Aly’s temper tantrum last night. She’d fallen asleep before Aly came in, and Aly was in bed when she left for the beach this morning. What was she going to do to smooth things over, make a friend?
“Lord, Aly doesn’t know me at all. It was like she put somebody else’s words in my mouth last night.” All the things she’d like to spit back at Aly marched through her mind. Raine paced an arc around a beached jellyfish. Warily, she eyed the clear, gelatinous body.
“Am I judgmental? Self-righteous?”
Cal said she needed to learn to relate to people like Aly. But Aly’s accusations were false.
“Okay, Lord, then what do I say to Aly?”
She climbed onto the jagged rocks of the jetty. Below her waves crashed, misting her with fine spray. She closed her eyes to the morning sun. A kernel of an idea percolated in the pink light shining through her eyelids. Her eyes popped open. She knew what to do.
“Thanks, Lord.”
As she wandered back down the beach, she spoke Drew’s prayer, “Jesus, fill the empty places in me, give me what I need, be my friend.” If things didn’t work out with Aly, she had Jesus. Even if she didn’t make another friend all summer.
A speck of a solitary ship barely moved along the horizon. Why had Drew sung those words? She couldn’t imagine Drew friendless. He was such a normal guy, easy to like. Whatever prompted Drew to sing those words, meet him where he feels empty.
Her gaze drifted to shore. She was startled to see Drew sprawled on the sand watching her. Hadn’t she just left the jetty? Drew’s guitar rested in its case, his Bible lay open in front of him. She stopped. “Morning, Drew.”
“Hey, Rainey.”
She frowned. “Raine.”
He grinned at her. “Right.” He reached for his guitar and Bible as he stood. “Cute feet.”
She looked at her stubby toes and scrunched her nose. “What?” She always wore closed-toe shoes to hide them.
“I said, you have cute feet. Those little bitty toes—”
“They’re ugly.” She dropped down to the sand and dug her socks and shoes out of her pack. She had forgotten to be self-conscious. Until now. She scrubbed her foot with a sock to rub the sand off. She wanted to get her feet out of sight. Now.
“Nothing about you is ugly.” Drew tossed her the towel he’d been sitting on. “Come on, there’s a spigot up on the seawall.” He held out a hand to help her up.
Raine looked at him, thinking she must have heard him wrong. She took his hand.
Drew stood next to the stone bench while water gushed over her feet from the spigot. “Your feet are pretty. What makes you think they’re ugly?”
Couldn’t he leave it alone? “My brothers used to call me ‘stubby toes.’”
Drew sat beside her. “Here, let me see.” He reached for her foot and grabbed the towel that lay between them.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” He gripped her heel in his palm and buffed her foot like he worked at Shiny Bright Car Wash.
She tugged free. She was so having a talk with him about personal space—as soon as her feet were safely inside her shoes.
“Let me have the other one.”
Raine blew out her breath.
“I can’t make a logical deduction by only inspecting one foot.” His tone was serious, but Raine would put money on it he was teasing her.
She gave up the other foot.
Light years past uncomfortable, she watched Drew dry each chunky toe as though he were conducting a science lab.
Finally, he let go. “Just as I thought.”
Raine squinted into the morning sun at him.
“Your toes are perfectly proportioned to the rest of your foot. I can measure when we get back to camp and prove it to you mathematically, but I have a pretty good eye for stuff like this.” He was as serious as a doctor discussing a patient’s surgery.
She couldn’t stand it any longer, she burst out laughing. “Honestly, Drew, give it a rest.”
Drew threw his head back and laughed with her. They started back toward camp. “I stand by my opinion.” He stopped on the shell-riddled blacktop. “If anybody has hideous feet, it would be me. See how that second toe on each foot takes a hike away from my big toes?"
Raine looked down at his flip-flop-clad feet.
"My brother-in-law calls that the Martin toe. We all have it. Disgusting.”
"Now you're making fun of me." She kicked a pinecone and watched it bounce end over end down the road. "I've got three older brothers to torture me without your help."

#

Drew breathed out a prayer of thanks as he walked across the Canteen porch to the equipment cupboard. Rainey had been the comfort he needed this morning. Kurt was gone, but God was there for him—today, through sparring with Rainey. He smiled at her embarrassment over her short—and seriously cute—toes.

#

After breakfast, Raine walked the long way to the lodge—behind the Canteen, along the parking lot, past the four-square court, behind the laundry—praying for her first day of teaching. And putting off the possibility of running into Cal. She didn't need Cal dumping her shopping cart of emotions upside down.
At least she taught in the morning and Cal taught in the afternoon.
She pushed open the screen door to the lodge. She hesitated in front of her classroom, but something propelled her toward Cal's room at the back of the lodge. No matter that she'd spent an extra ten minutes avoiding Cal, who was likely still in bed. She had to see whether he decorated his classroom, didn't she? She'd spent yesterday getting her room ready for students, but she hadn't heard anyone else in the building. She couldn’t focus on teaching until she cleared up this detail.
The door handle stuck. She applied more pressure and it twisted with a clunk. The door swung open. She took a step inside and caught her breath. Fifteen to twenty canvases of varying sizes and shapes haphazardly lined the classroom.
Her gaze swept the room again. No, the paintings had been carefully placed to look haphazard. There was a sense of skewed balance with a large portrait as the focal point. Dredging up Humanities 101, she recognized an impressionistic flare in Cal's work. The colors were bold, the strokes broad, but not devoid of delicacy. Like Cal himself, the art was intoxicating.
She studied the portrait of the blond girl on the large canvas. A much younger Aly. Crude compared to the study of surfboards piled like pick-up-sticks beside it, Cal had still managed to capture Aly. The way she held her shoulders, the thrust of her chin, suggested a teenager waking up to her sensuality.
“Hey.'” Cal's voice came from directly behind her.
She whirled around. How had she not heard the squeak of the screen door? "Were you in love with Aly when you were younger?"
"And, good morning to you, too."
"Sorry. I just see how you caught Aly's mix of defiance and vulnerability. I thought maybe you had to know someone really well to get their spirit."
"In high school I had to do a portrait for my senior art project. Aly was the only one I could get to sit for me."
Right. It all started to make sense, Cal’s almost protectiveness toward Aly. But if he didn’t want to own up to it, that was his business. "Your paintings are—" She couldn't think of a word to describe them.
"Genius? Interesting, as in, 'Gee, that certainly is a painting?'"
"Monet-ish, but the colors are muted. Your brush strokes are smoother, the subjects sharper."
"Monet?" Shock and wonder warred on his face.
"What? Didn't you think a Bible teacher would take humanities in college?" Touché. "See you later. I have a class to teach." She edged through the doorway inches from Cal's dark brown stubble, the pale waves of hair brushing his shoulders. His eyes still looked dazed. Good. Her turn to knock him off balance.
She walked the fifteen steps to her classroom memorizing the citrus scent that clung to him.

#

Cal listened to Raine’s steps move down the hall to her classroom. He tossed the ream of art paper onto a table in his empty classroom and it landed with a thud. He should have told Raine he'd been in love with Aly off and on for years. That would make her back off. But he'd rather swim through an army of man-o-war than split his gut open in front of Raine or anyone else.
The truth was Aly had never been in love with him as far as he could tell. And he'd been over her for a year and a half this time—as good as cured.
Last night, he held Raine in his hands and watched her heart swirl in her eyes. Today she compared him to Monet. So what? He sure wasn't going to fall for the girl—like falling into his parents' life. No thank you. Raine was self-righteous waiting to happen. Mom served sanctimony like vegetables, three servings a day, and he had a gut full.
The picture of Raine spitting out the beer floated through his mind and he nearly laughed out loud. She intrigued him. He'd give her that.

#

Drew sat across the dining hall table from Jesse and his pregnant wife, Kallie.
Their three-year-old, Jillian, held court at the head of the table. "Macawoni and cheese is Pwincess food!" she announced. Her plastic tiara wobbled atop a mop of chocolate curls as she climbed off her chair to follow her mother out the swinging doors to the porch.
Drew swallowed the lump in his throat. He hadn't thought about marriage and children for years—ever since Samantha slammed that door shut. Drew used to think he'd marry Sam and have a house full of kids.
"Your turn's comin', bud." Jesse stacked Kallie and Jillian's dishes on his tray.
Drew looked sharply at Jesse. Was he reading his mind? “Right.”
"Is God trying to get marriage through that thick head of yours?"
Drew shot him a get-out-of-my-face look.
Jesse threw his hands up. "Hey, you were the one who asked me to mentor you—"
"Remember that African children's choir that was in town last summer?"
Jesse narrowed his eyes at him.
"Their musical director is retiring. I read in their newsletter they're looking for his replacement." Drew drummed his fingers on the table. "I could do the job. I like the kids. I don't know." He wasn't seriously considering it, but anything to shut down the marriage talk.
Jesse glanced at the door Kallie and Jillian had gone out. "And how would you contribute to the gene pool if you took a job like that? I bet there aren't six Christian women to choose from in the kids' village."
Drew gritted his teeth. Jesse chomped into a topic like a hammerhead shark and wouldn't let go.
Jesse's expression brightened. "I'll ask Kallie to pray for a wife for you. It's one of her favorite subjects."
Great. He wasn't desperate. Single women from church already plied him with too many chicken surprise casseroles and chocolate chip cookies. Triple S was a welcome relief from the attention.
Jesse smacked him in the chest as he stood. "Maawidge." Jesse mimicked the priest's voice in Princess Bride. He hummed the wedding march as he headed for the pass-through with his family's dishes.
Drew couldn't stay mad at Jesse. But he hadn't considered marriage in seven years, and he wasn't considering it now. Other questions had to be settled before he would even know if marriage was an option. Questions that had no answers.

#

Raine perched on the bow of the Smyrna Queen, feet dangling over her faded aqua hull. She smiled. Tough luck drawing sailing duty. Too bad it was only once a month. Sixty-eight feet of yawl stretched out behind her. Her gaze skimmed the massive, aluminum mast, the shorter, wooden mast and the sweeping triangles of dirty white sail.
She splayed her hands behind her on the scarred teak deck and breathed in the sun, wind, and ocean that separated her from Eddie. The Queen was a wizened woman with a two-pack-a-day habit for thirty years. And Raine loved her.
She gazed at the soft chop of the waves, the water catching and releasing the sun's brilliance. Lord— All around her God's artistry and vastness drew her to Him. I'm going to Africa. Alone. But I wish— She couldn't even ask God. Going to Africa was enough.
The Smyrna Queen bounced, lulling her. A sharp dip jerked her to alertness. Cal dropped onto the bowsprit, his leg brushing hers on the way down. "Hey, sleepy head."
He sat at a right angle from her, their knees kissing with the bounce of the boat. The sun had toasted his skin a deep caramel. She leaned forward wanting to catch his citrus scent, but the wind cut between them.
"Hey, Mr. Proficient-at-all-things-sailing."
"You watched me haul up the sails this morning, huh?"
"I helped Missy keep her girls out of your way."
"Give it up, Raine. I saw you watching."
Raine's fingers tightened on the gunwale. "Look, Cal, you're just amusing yourself with me. You already told me I'm not your type. Let's just leave it at that."
Cal's eyes widened in surprise, then, he laughed. "It's called flirting. Most girls think it’s an Olympic sport."
"I'm not most girls."
"No kidding."
Raine squinted at Cal. "Why are you talking to me?"
"You mean with a boatload of junior high girls, my sister, and Captain Jake—who didn't want to hire me in the first place—I had a choice?"
"Thanks so much."
“Besides, you're—interesting."
"Like a Sponge Bob lunch box buried in a time capsule."
"Come on, you have to admit you're the Christian bubble girl—über protected."
"I am not." She pinched her lips together. She refused to bleed all over Cal.
“Why are you so weird with me?”
Her head jerked up.
“For every word you say, there are five hundred you don’t say."
I’m so into you. There were four more words she wasn't saying.
“Sometime, will you say the five hundred words?”
Would she?
"Cal! Take down the spinnaker," Jake yelled.
Cal jumped up and grabbed a nearby line and loosened it from its cleat.
Her gaze slid to his solid pecs and biceps, then to the balloon-like sail as it deflated and flew toward them. Raine helped Cal gather the neon green canvas and stuff it into the sail bag.
Cal looked over at her from where he was winding a line around a cleat. "We'll finish this conversation later."
Raine watched his sculpted back move along the Queen's deck. She shook her head to clear her vision. But she had more to deal with than Cal's looks.
Cal was a nucleus of safe neutrons—a preacher's kid who knew the Bible, intelligent—and dangerous protons, like his interest in Eastern religions and alcohol. Electrons of all the things she didn't know about him zinged around him, tantalizing her.
Enough. She tortured herself crushing on a guy who saw her as hopelessly white bread. Cal had an agenda—something to do with educating her about the world. Once he proved his point, he’d lose interest. This crush would bury her if she didn't do something. Fast.

#

Drew leaned against a sand pine that skirted the inlet. The coarse bark dug into his back through his T-shirt like Jesse's marriage jabs at lunch. White sun pierced through the pine needles, blinding him. Did marriage belong in his future?
Once upon a time he thought God told him to marry Samantha. But she hadn't gotten the memo. He probably heard wrong. But what if he hadn't? He’d blocked marriage out of his mind—until Jesse poked him about it.
Kurt went all the way to Japan to force him into dealing with Samantha. He and Jesse sang the same song. And Drew had the sinking feeling God made it a three-part harmony. He had to face Sam—probably not literally, but he had to face the questions she raised.
The first question: Was Sam married?

Chapter 4

The person Raine most wanted to avoid this morning stood in the hall waiting outside her classroom. “Cal.” She kept her voice cool.  Their conversation from yesterday on the boat flew through her mind.
He nudged the classroom door open for her.
Her gaze skittered away from his. She looked down at the muscle flexing in his arm as he sandwiched a stack of cardboard squares against his chest, and back at the intensity in the blue depths of his eyes. She brushed past him putting space between them and slipped into the chair behind her desk.
He followed her. “We have unfinished business from yesterday.”
She looked up, feigned ignorance. “Oh?” 
"I asked you if you were ever going to say those five hundred words." He stood beside her desk looking down at her. “Are you?”
Raine dropped her gaze to his hand wrapped around a Folgers can of brushes. It wasn’t an artist’s hand, but thicker, like a wrestler’s. The memory of Cal's taking her by the shoulders with those hands flitted through her mind. She met his eyes. "Maybe." Not in this millennium. I am so sunk.
"Now?" His eyes burned through her.
"I have to teach now."
 “Ouch. Cold.”
She tensed. Nobody ever called her cold. Cal stood too close. She could smell the clean shampoo scent from his damp hair. She inched her chair away from him. “I’m sorry, Cal, I'm just distracted. Thanks for opening the door for me. Gentlemen are hard to find, even at Bible college.” She smiled at him, a small smile meant to be kind, but not encouraging.
“Whatever, Raine.” Cal walked out of the classroom and toward the front door of the lodge. She felt the slap of his disgust as the screen door smacked behind him. 
She shut the classroom door and locked it. She didn’t have time for this drama. Her first class of elementary students would show up in less than ten minutes for the story of Jesus walking on the water. She sunk to her knees on the carpet square next to the window. Her chin dropped to her chest.
Focus me on the lesson I have to teach. She was quiet—waiting for Jesus to walk across the wild ocean of her emotions. Please. 
Peace flowed in, a sense of Jesus, like so many times before. She sighed, soaking in the quiet. Give me the ability and the power to teach Your Word to the children. She reached for the class list and prayed for each child. Her eyes slid shut. Use me right now. I love You. And, thanks. A fresh breeze blew in through the screen-less window cleansing the air of the musty scent of old Bibles and hymnals. 
“Rainey, Rainey, where has your sunshine gone?” a familiar, deep voice sang.
Her eyes popped open. 
Drew grinned and tipped his baseball cap at her as he stopped on the dirt road outside her window. A bat strung with mitts angled over his shoulder.
Was Drew’s mission in life to tease her? ‘Hypersensitive’, Mom called her. How many times had Mom said her brothers didn't know how to express affection toward her? They could hardly wrestle their baby sister to the floor like they did each other. Teasing was how they said they cared about her. Yeah, right.
“I was praying.” She wished back the petulant note in her voice.
Drew grabbed hold of the window sill knocking a few paint chips to the ground. “Hey, then, I must be the answer to your prayers.” She smelled the mint on his breath, and a speck of dried toothpaste clung to the corner of his mouth.
“More like the interruption.” She arched a brow at him. “Unless you want to play a part in our Bible drama. You can be the Sea of Galilee and let Jesus and Peter walk on you.”
“Hey, that was funny, Rainey! Why don’t just you bring the kids down to the beach for the story? I’ve got some old tires in the storage shed the kids could walk on instead of me.”
“That’s brilliant!” Why didn’t she think of that? “Maybe you are an answer to prayer.”
“Like I said.” Drew shot her an I-told-you-so smile and slapped the sill, dislodging another spate of paint chips. “I’ll see you in ten at the beach.” 
“Wait.” One good turn deserved another. She licked her thumb and reached through the window to rub the dot of toothpaste from his cheek. 
Drew’s eyes widened and something like panic flashed through them before a huge smile spread across his face. “You can do that anytime. I don’t remember it being remotely as enjoyable when my mother used to do it—when I was six.” He turned and headed down the road toward the beach.
She smiled watching his long strides, the mitts swaying on the bat behind him. For once she’d knocked him off balance, if only for a millisecond. 

#

Drew leaned his chair back on two legs. He sat on the front porch of the cabin balancing his laptop on his knees. Night watch had been over for thirty minutes. While the camp slept, longing for companionship crawled into his gut. 
Rainey’s touch, two fingers under his chin and a thumb on his cheek, was the closest thing to a caress he’d had since Sam. It woke up a sleeping giant of loneliness—not for Kurt, though he was certainly part of the equation—but for love. He almost couldn’t remember what it felt like to be in love with Sam. The ache to remember, to experience love again, washed over him in a suffocating wave. 
His fingers flew across the keys almost without conscious decision. But he stopped before loading the site. He hadn't looked at porn since right after Samantha broke up with him. Even now, the guilt that racked him for months waited behind a dam to flood over him again. 
"Ever feel so guilty you can't look in the mirror?" he'd asked Kurt near the end of his freshman year in college.
"Yeah. Sure." They were coming home in Kurt's car from a pick-up football game on the Daytona State College campus.
The words stuck in Drew's throat. He pushed them out. "It’s porn." He looked down at the football on the floorboard at his feet. "I feel like a total perv."
"How many times?" Kurt's voice was even, not giving anything away.
"I don’t know. Some. After Sam broke up with me." He ground his teeth back and forth in his mouth. "God's gotta be disgusted with me."
Kurt rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. He sucked in a breath and let it out. "Well, little brother, been there. Done that. Regretted it. Not a pervert."
Ever since that day, he and Kurt had checked up on each other. How many times had knowing that he'd have to tell Kurt kept him from going there? 
Drew swatted at the insects orbiting overhead in the yellow cabin light. What triggered the temptation? Maybe if he could put his finger on the cause….
The desire hit him most often when he was utterly alone. When he hurt. When he felt weak. Lord, be strong when I am weak. 
He clicked on his MSN account to write Kurt. Who knew? Maybe Kurt was struggling too. He stared at the darkened athletic field for a long time after he sent Kurt's email. Drawing in a deep breath to fortify himself, he opened Samantha's Facebook page. 

#

Aly jammed Gar's Saturn into first gear. She popped the clutch and the car lurched forward. She pushed the clutch to the floor, and re-started the car. Why had she let Gar convince her driving stick was so easy she didn't need a teacher? 
The car made a grinding noise as though she were shoving its innards into a garbage disposal. She slammed her foot down on the clutch. What next? She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her T-shirt. The whole camp probably heard her. She scanned the grassy lot with a cringe. 
Great. Raine stood under a tree behind the Canteen looking as cool as if she were in the air-conditioned camp office. Raine wore another one of those blouses with a tiny flowered print, lilac today, and killer Bermudas. 
And I'm in Gar's stupid, primer-painted car— She cut off the thought. She was going to learn how to drive stick. She didn't care if the whole camp came out to laugh.
She pressed the clutch down, looked at the diagram on the knob of the gearshift again, and slid the car into first. She let the clutch up. The car leap-frogged. And died.
Raine walked over to the window. "Got a minute?" She tilted her head toward Aly.
She squinted up at Raine. "Can't you see I'm busy? Go away!"
"I only need a minute." Raine squatted down beside the car bringing her to a little below Aly's eye-level.
"Fine." She exhaled, her index finger tapping a rapid beat on the steering wheel. 
"I said something that set you off—the other night on the beach." Raine held up her hand to stop her reaction. "Let me say what I have to say." 
She focused on Raine's short, clean nails where her fingers gripped the door. She didn't feel like looking her in the eye.
"I'm sorry I upset you." 
She looked at Raine then. There was no hidden agenda in her expression. Just an apology hanging in the inches between them. An apology for nothing. Raine hadn't done anything to warrant her temper tantrum. Gar had put her in a bad mood by going out with his friends, and Raine just had a knack for setting her off.
Raine looked at her. "I've spent my life with my nose pressed against the screen watching other people live." She ticked off on her fingers, "Overprotective parents, homeschooled, commuted to Orlando for college." Raine wobbled and grabbed the car door again. "I want to live this summer, not watch other people live, but I need—" Her gaze flitted away and back to Aly. "I need you."
"Me?" What could the oh-so-perfect-Bible-teacher need from me?
"A friend."
Something inside Aly softened like a bowl of Jell-o zapped in the microwave. "You don't have friends?"
"Cal said I need to learn to relate to people who are different than me."
Aly nodded her head. "That would be me."
Raine spread her hands. "But I could use a friend, period. You and Cal—and Drew," Raine rolled her eyes, "are the only ones I've hung out with."
"Why did you roll your eyes about Drew?"
"He teases me the way my brothers always do. Drives me crazy."
She couldn't help smiling. "He likes you."
Raine frowned. "Like Bart Simpson likes his sister, Lisa."
"No. Remember boys punching you in the arm in junior high when they were interested?"
Raine laughed, a sound like a breeze blowing through a glass wind chime. "Drew's way past thirteen."
She looked down at her hands, now motionless, on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry I went off on you." She looked at Raine. "You remind me of someone—"
"Yeah, someone you don't like." Raine stood and walked around the car. She opened the passenger door, climbed in, and slammed it shut. "You're going to learn how to drive this junk bucket. At least my brothers taught me something useful."
Her mouth dropped open but no sound came out.
Raine arched her thin, dark brows waiting.
"Um, where did you get those Bermudas?"
"T.J. Maxx." 

#

Raine stood in the parking lot grinning and waving as Aly zipped smoothly onto the road out of camp. She saw Drew striding toward her loaded down with a huge bag of dodge balls. Aly was wrong about Drew liking her beyond friendship. And no way was she revisiting her seventh grade pining for him.
She met Drew at the edge of the parking lot. "Aly just learned to drive stick in twenty minutes! Twenty minutes. Can you believe it? It took me a month. The girl is a genius."
Drew chuckled at her excitement.
Eddie’s ring tone sounded from her cell phone, and her elation clenched into a fetal position. She hated the hard-driving beat of the Korn song Eddie installed as his personal ring. She would delete it as soon as she hung up. 
She eased the phone out of her pocket, dreading what would come next. Already, she could feel the blood draining from her face. Her palm was clammy against the phone. What was it this time? The fact that he had to be alive to place a call held little comfort.
Drew dropped the net bag onto the grass in front of her. The balls bounced crazily in the confined space. She had forgotten he was standing there, forgotten everything but Eddie. Drew's eyes bored into her, radiating concern. 
This was her battle. She turned her back on him and walked a few steps toward the hedge. "Hey." She could hear her voice quiver. She put her finger in her ear to catch any nuances in Eddie's words. Was he high? Tweaking? 
"Hey Sis. Working at Triple S, huh?" His voice was even, normal sounding. But he'd found her at Triple S. Just when she was starting to feel safe.
"What do you want, Eddie?" 
"What? Can't I just call to say hi?"
"You can, but you never do." 
"Aw, you're hurting me." 
She wished she could leave for Africa this second. "No. You're hurting me. Just tell me how much you need." 
"I had a job painting this guy's boat—"
"How much?"
"A hundred bucks. I can come by the camp. Meet you outside the gate."
"No. I'll meet you at Lost Lagoon. Eight-thirty." She smacked her phone shut but couldn't slide it back into her pocket. She didn't want Eddie that close to her.
Drew walked over. "What is it?"
She pressed her lips together. She'd never spilled to anybody about Eddie.
She could see the beads of sweat on his upper lip, smell his deodorant. He’d skated way too close—physically and to her secrets. "Don't you know Americans need at least two feet, eleven inches of personal space?"
He grasped her hand, his eyes boring into her. "Tell me, Rainey." A muscle jumped in his jaw. 
She dropped her gaze to the fine white hair covering the back of his hand that still held hers. The hair grew thick and curly toward his wrist, a man's wrist. Even though he wouldn’t back down, she knew instinctively she could trust him. Still—
"My brother Eddie lost his painting job. He wants to borrow some money."
Drew stared at her for a long moment searching her eyes. She knew he wasn’t buying it, but was grateful he let it go. "Do you want me to come with you?" 
Her glance flicked to her scar for a microsecond.
Drew’s glance followed hers, and he extended her arm to expose the jagged pink rut in the crease of her arm. "What's that from?" 
Raine shook her head, dismissing his concern. "A childhood injury."
"Why do I get the feeling there's more you're not telling me?”
Raine looked away at the row of cars parked along the hedge and then back at Drew. "I'll tell you some other time, okay?"
"Look, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you."
Could she tell someone how she got that scar? Could she tell Drew? Maybe he'd forget to ask. Surely she could stall him till she left for Africa. She nodded. She'd tell him, but only if there was no way to get out of it.
"I'm going with you to meet Eddie." Drew's voice was firm. His feet were spread shoulder-width apart, his stance challenging her.
Raine sighed. She didn't have the energy left to argue. "Just as well. I need a lift anyway."

#

Raine walked along the tree line behind the cabins. She and Drew would meet at eight that evening at his truck and go to Lost Lagoon. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't facing Eddie alone. Did God put Drew there to help her when Eddie's call came? That Drew didn't know her brother's story didn't matter. Drew would have gone with her whether she agreed or not. 
Comfort wrapped around the pain wedged in the center of her ribcage. She dreaded seeing Eddie, but she wasn't afraid now. At least not afraid for herself. 
Thank You, God. 
Intellectually, she believed God protected her all the time. But when did she last feel protected? She stared for a moment at the cirrus clouds stretched across pale sky like angel hair.
When Eddie was fifteen and she was fourteen, Eddie had stood up to a creep on the beach for her.
Raine had lost sight of Eddie surfing and walked toward the shore to get a better look at the waves. A guy with coarse, black chest hair and surfer shorts slung low enough to expose a ribbon of white around his waist strode toward her. Smudges of sand clung to his body. 
Raine edged away from his small talk. "My brother—I have to go. Mom's expecting us for dinner." 
His hand clamped around Raine's wrist and she could smell the scent of patchouli oil that clung to him.
"No!" 
He tugged her toward his windowless van. "Come on, babe, I just want you to see how I tricked out my wheels." His voice was placating. 
Eddie shot out of nowhere. "Get your stinkin' hands off my sister!" His fists were balled, his face contorted. Water sluiced from his skin. 
The guy flung his hands up like the bad guy in a cop show. "Hey, man, no harm, no foul." 
Eddie was all bones and skin then, not so different than he was now. The guy probably could have taken him, but surprise and Eddie’s fierce protectiveness won out. Raine had never been more proud of him. 
That was the last time anyone but God protected her. Until now.

#

Jillian jumped off the almost stationary merry-go-round toward Cal. Cal fell back on the grass with her in his arms as though she'd knocked him over. 
"Silly, Uncle Cal!" 
As Jillian untangled herself from Cal, he looked up and saw Raine walking along the tree line. Evening sun warmed her cheeks and burnished her hair to henna. 
Halfway onto the swing, Jillian sang, "Push me! Push me!"
Cal scooped Jillian and the swing up in his arms and let go to her delighted shrieks. As Jillian settled into a pendulum rhythm, Cal's gaze drifted back to Raine. She moved with natural grace but, even at this distance, she seemed burdened, her chin down, shoulders slightly rounded. 
He didn't want to care. He didn't want to care about a girl like Raine. She would only entangle him in the life he'd almost escaped. He didn't want to find a real and hurting woman under all that beauty and conservatism. But maybe it was too late.

#

Drew sat in his truck and watched Raine at the ATM machine. She stood with her arms folded, fingers gripped white on her elbows. Her forehead was creased as she stared at the slot where the bills would appear. She had barely acknowledged his presence since she got into the truck other than to ask if he would please stop here.
She said her brother wanted to borrow money, but his gut told him to keep her safe. Clearly, God put him in the right place at the right time to protect her. And, honestly, there was no place he'd rather be right now. Rainey’s needing him fed a hunger in his soul. He couldn’t remember the last time someone needed him. He doubted the self-sufficient Sam had ever truly needed him.
What was Eddie's story? How could he help Rainey deal with whatever it was? God, give me wisdom, discernment, and, if need be, the ability to throw a hard, well-placed punch.

#

Before Drew even had the truck in park, Raine opened the door. She slid out and scanned the Lost Lagoon parking lot for Eddie. Behind her, Drew's door slammed shut. 
There he stood—in the shadows under a palm in the corner of the lot. Love for Eddie welled up in her. She hadn't seen him in over a month. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms, not caring that Eddie wasn't a hugger. She breathed in the smell of soap, felt his bony ribs. A detached part of her took stock. He was thinner than last time. If he was clean and shaved, then he probably wasn't living on the beach. His old O'Neil surf T-shirt meant he still had belongings stashed somewhere. She held on, feeling his jittery movements.
"Who's this?" Eddie's voice demanded in her ear.
She dropped her arms, stepped back. "A friend. Drew. I needed a ride."
They spoke at the same time. "I said I'd meet you at camp," Eddie said.
"I sold my car to help pay for my ticket to Africa."
Eddie's gaze darted around the parking lot, then settled on Drew. 
Drew held out his hand. "Hey, man."
Eddie looked at Drew's hand.
"Come on. Let's get something to eat," Raine blurted into Eddie’s rudeness.
Drew dropped his hand.
Eddie looked at her. "I don't want to go in. Lights bother me."
Lights? Or did the police or loan sharks want him? "Fine, I'll go buy something." She strode toward the double glass. She didn't trust Eddie to buy food with the money she gave him. She heard Drew's footsteps close behind her.
The line was three deep. Raine peered through the glass trying to see Eddie.
"Do you want me to go keep an eye on him?" Drew's arm brushed hers as they moved up in line.
She glanced at him, but he'd stepped out of her personal space.
Raine blew out her breath. "No. He's not going anywhere till I give him the money." She was too stressed to worry about what Drew thought. He locked his eyes on the illuminated yellow menu behind the counter.
"I'll get you something for giving me a ride—" and protection.
Drew shot her a look.
"Or not."
As she stepped out of the air-conditioned restaurant into the muggy night, relief shot through her. Eddie still stood in the shadows where she had left him. He could have been shot, frightened away, anything.
"Here." She shoved the bag into Eddie's hands. 
"Thanks." Eddie's gaze darted from her empty hands all around her. He was looking for her purse. He wanted money, not food. She knew him too well. Let him sweat.
"You're not going to eat?" 
"I'll eat."
"You're thinner than last time I saw you. You look bad, Eddie. You need help. I met some guys fundraising for Teen Challenge. They're guys who were just like you. But they got help. They have a life now."
Eddie peered at her from hooded eyes. She could feel the resentment radiating from him. She heard the scuff of Drew's flip-flop against the asphalt beside her.
“Let us run you to Orlando to Teen Challenge right now.” She shot Drew a pleading look and got his nod of agreement. 
“I’ve got a job lined up, a place to stay—” 
“There’s nothing going on in your life right now that’s more important than getting clean.” She reached out grasping for the Eddie she knew was buried deep inside. "I love you. I always think this will be the last time I see you." She squeezed her eyes shut and felt the tears run down her face.
Eddie let out a brittle laugh. "You're always so melodramatic, Rainey! I'm fine. Fine. Getting better. Really. Don't worry." He gave her a small grin, a tattered remnant of the brother she used to have. "I love you, too. But I’m not ready for Teen Challenge." 
“Please! I’m begging you.” The words came out in a cry.
“Give me the summer. If I can’t pull my life together by then, I’ll go in.”
“September First?”
Eddie blew out a breath. “September First.”
She pulled the wad of bills out of her pocket and put them in his hand.
"Thanks. I'll pay you back in a couple of weeks." Now his smile was wide, but she knew better than to buy it.
"It's not a loan." Somehow, she was less angry when she chose to give him money instead of his siphoning it from her.
"Thanks, sis." He looked like he'd say more, but glanced at Drew. "I gotta run."
She grabbed hold of him one last time. She said the words into his ear willing them to penetrate his heart—as though the words alone could rescue him. “I love you.”

#

Raine and Drew rumbled along in silence. Drew's dash lights bored holes into Raine's taut nerves. Wasn't Drew going to say anything? The car cover cloaking her whole sordid life had just been ripped off. She felt exposed. 
"You can do things to help." Drew's voice pierced the darkness. 
"Like?"
"Don't give him money."
"Let my brother starve to death."
"He's not going to spend that money on food."
"How do you know?"
Drew braked to a stop at a red light. "Eddie's an addict."
"Says who?"
"Rainey." His voice was gentle. "His pupils are enlarged–"
"It's dark out. All our pupils are enlarged."
"He's twitchy, underweight, paranoid." 
"Eddie's not an addict. He just uses dangerous drugs more than he should." She could feel the tears bunching in her eyes. If she could convince Drew it wasn't true, maybe it wouldn't be.
"Is it meth?" Drew's voice was soft.
"Now you're an expert?" She could hear the sharpness in her voice, but she fought for Eddie.
"I've worked with the drug awareness program at school since I started teaching." He tilted her chin up to force her to look at him. "Why are you trying to hide the truth from me?"
She could feel the tears sliding down her face as she stared at Drew. There was only caring in his eyes. "I've never told anyone." Her cheeks tickled from the tears. She scrubbed them dry with her hands and looked out the window at the stubby palmetto bushes on the side of the road. "Eddie's Eddie. He's not an addict. He's trapped in a bad circle of friends."
Drew pulled through the intersection. "Make it as hard as possible for him to keep using. Let him take the consequences of using. He's not going to quit until he hits bottom."
The emotions inside her collided and fused to a red-hot poker of anger. "What else did you learn in a text book?"
"Rainey, that's not fair. I'm only trying to help."
"Stop it! Did you hear Eddie call me, 'Rainey?' That's why I hate it when you call me that!" 
Silence filled the truck cab the rest of the way back to camp. Drew pulled into the grassy lot behind the Canteen and killed the engine. 
Neither of them moved to get out of the truck. Raine looked sideways at Drew. He stared at the croton hedge as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Her jab hit bull’s eye, and now she regretted it.
"Don't you think I know this stuff? I did my senior research paper on meth addiction. My parents thought it was altruistic. They didn't have a clue Eddie was doing drugs." She turned toward him, wanting to make him understand.
"But when I look my brother in the eye, I can't not-help him. He's the person I'm closest to in the world. I'm the only one he confides in. I have to be there for him. Or there's no one."
"You're enabling him. Can't you see it?" Drew's eyes pleaded with her to accept what she would never accept.
The anger came flooding back. She slid out of the truck to the ground. "Don't give me advice till you've lived my life." She slammed the door.

Chapter 5

A blue jay twittered outside the window. Cal heard voices and the scuff of shoes on the dirt as the stragglers headed toward the dining hall for lunch. He stepped into the classroom, inhaling the lingering scent of paint and turpentine that marked the room as his. 
Raine stood facing Day at the Beach with her back to him. Maybe she regretted freezing him out yesterday and came to apologize.
A board groaned under the weight of his foot and she spun around. Tears slicked down her cheeks and she wiped them away. “What does this painting mean?”
He braced himself against her tears and shrugged one shoulder as if she wasn’t getting to him. Raine wouldn’t like his telling her what the painting meant. But maybe he should. It would give her a glimpse of how people think who aren’t like her. But he wasn’t into baring his soul. Ever. 
His usual response slid out. “The important thing is what it means to you.”
“What if I’m wrong?” 
“You can’t be wrong. Everyone is entitled to his own interpretation.” He pulled a chair out and straddled it. Of course, sometimes people came up with certifiably crazy interpretations of his work.
Raine looked back at the painting and sank to the tabletop, still entranced. Cal’s gaze followed hers though he knew the painting, probably one of his best, without looking. 
A figure with no distinguishing male or female characteristics walked on the beach casting a long shadow. Three boys and a girl strung out behind the figure. One of the boys was out in the sun, running for the water, hope etched on his face. One tennis-shoe-clad foot remained in the figure’s shadow. The faces of the children in the shadow couldn’t be seen. They appeared hunched. One carried a toy bucket and shovel. One wore an inflatable inner tube around his waist. 
“It makes me think about my family.” Raine didn’t take her eyes off the picture. “Three boys and a girl. One child sees his dad casting an oppressive shadow over all their lives.”
Cal wanted her to say more. His gaze welded to the play of emotion on her face.
She turned to him. “I don’t think I ever realized how wrong a child’s view can be.” She looked back at the painting. “You make me see that the best place for the children is out in the sunshine—maybe holding the dad’s hand, looking up at him expectantly. Or dancing around him with expressions that say, ‘Look at me, look at me, aren’t I something special!’ ”
Cal was thrown off balance. He had painted God’s oppression of man, his mother’s oppression of the family. That was Cal, almost out of God’s shadow and into the sunshine, poised to run into the water. He didn’t want to hear this wasn’t how life should be. 
Raine had unknowingly pictured a relationship with God, one where the children got to play in the sunshine, interact with God, probably even swim in the ocean. But, for him, it was too hard to imagine.
 Raine fixed her eyes on him. “You disagree.” She tilted her head to one side. “So, tell me what you were thinking when you painted the picture.”
“We’re oppressed, and our only hope is to make a break for it.”
“Oppressed by what?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He stood and shoved the chair under the table. He wasn’t having this conversation.
“Where did you get such a bleak take on life?”
“Not everyone swallows the home-school-PC version of life. Look, I’m out of here. Enjoy the painting. Make it mean whatever you want.”
He turned and walked out.  Part of him wanted to believe Raine. Part of him wanted to yank his foot out of the shadow, run into the ocean, and never look back. 

#

Drew finished his stretches under the light of the moon. He looked around one last time for Jesse. Something must have come up. He had a lot on his mind. It was probably better for him to run alone tonight anyway. 
He replayed Monday night’s argument with Rainey. Wow! Was he going to have to quit calling her Rainey? She knifed him on that one. He understood her protectiveness of Eddie, but it hurt when she came out snapping like a crawfish. 
He ran hard, pounding out his frustration against the sand. At the jetty, he slowed his pace. 
This shouldn’t be about him and his hurt. This was about Rainey. Eddie was tearing her up inside. Anyone who’d watched her at Lost Lagoon would have seen it. Lord, rescue Rainey from the co-dependent mess she has going with Eddie. Get that kid help. Throw his butt in rehab, jail, something. Pry him off Rainey’s back.
He ran back down the beach at half speed, thinking about Rainey’s plan to teach in Africa. She’d lifted her chin just a little when she told him that first night at orientation—like she dared him to challenge her. There had been steel in her voice. Was she trying to escape Eddie? At least she was committed to doing something for God. What about him? 
He was twenty-five and still lived in the apartment over his folks’ garage. He doubted that was God’s grand plan for his life. But he never thought about it till Kurt left. He didn’t do separation from family—especially Kurt—well. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate little brother tag along if he followed Kurt to Japan. He couldn’t even choke down sushi. 
He slipped into a jog thinking about the Africa Cries kids he hooked up with last winter when they were in town for concerts. He’d been captivated by the lanky, black-skinned boys, the girls with nubby hair as short as the boys’, the joy radiating from their faces when they told their harrowing stories. 
He had the skill set to be a good music director. He already loved those kids. He tried to shake off the thought. But the smiles of the children had been stuck in his head for months, their singing voices, like phantoms he couldn’t bat away. He stopped, bent over with his hands on his knees. Okay. I’ll ask You what You want me to do. But would You take Your time answering this one? 
He stood and wiped his face on the neck of his T-shirt. It wasn’t like this was the only big-ticket item on his plate. Jesse had shoved marriage front and center—getting Kallie and Jillian to pray for a wife for him. He smiled. That was underhanded, recruiting a three-year-old. God had a soft spot for kids. 
Would he ever love and be loved? Yeah, he wanted that, a relentless tide of realization was coming in. He was going to have to settle things with Sam. He looked down the beach illumined by the full moon. Another sprint down to the jetty and back sounded good.

#

Raine walked along the asphalt road beside Missy. She rubbed her arms. The wind coming off the Atlantic was cool tonight. Maybe it would rain. Corrie, Missy's co-counselor walked ahead with their campers strung between them.
 "Do you think my brother is hot?" Missy looked over at Raine, her chestnut mane bunched in her fist against the wind.
She grinned at Missy. "I guess—for an old, married man." 
"Raine!" 
"Oh, you mean Cal." She pursed her lips, and rubbed her chin. "If you like the surf-bum type." Cal was gorgeous no matter what kind of guy you liked, but she sure wasn’t telling his sister.
Missy’s shoulders slumped. "So, what about Jayson? He's so amazing!" Missy chattered the rest of the way back to the cabin about Jayson.
Raine waved to Missy and headed across the athletic field toward the laundry. She felt her back pocket to make sure the note was still there—like she’d need a ticket to get onto the laundry porch. Aly had left a note on her pillow inviting her to hang out. Things had been better between them since the driving lesson, but this was the first time Aly had asked her to do something. No way was she going to miss this.
She could see two dark forms as she came around the back corner of the building. Cal sat on a crate leaning against the building. Aly lay on her back with her feet propped against the wall next to Cal.
“How was campfire?” Aly said. 
Aly must have told Cal she was coming since he wasn’t surprised to see her.
“Cold. Wind’s kicking up.”
“Kicking eternity,” Cal said.
Aly nudged Cal with her foot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m reading Sacred Hoops  written by Phil Jackson when he coached the Chicago Bulls. Jackson kicks against his parents’ take on eternity.”
Aly reached for the bottle beside her and took a drink.
 “Sounds like a yawner.”
Cal took a drink from his bottle. “Want some?” He held it out to her.
She knew the no alcohol on camp property rule, but drinking after Cal was too hard to resist. Wine cooler, she read on the label. This tasted more like soda, but with some foreign taste, like cough medicine, but not quite. She handed the bottle back.
Cal peered at her as if he expected a repeat performance of her spitting out the beer. She made herself swallow. There.
“Aly, what’s the book about you’re reading?” Raine had seen the book spread open on Aly’s bed for the last few days.
Aly’s legs were crossed now, one propped against the building, one keeping time to an imaginary tom-tom. “Jodi Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper.”
A laugh burst out of Cal. “That ought to jam the can opener into your issues.”
Aly shot him a dirty look.
She looked between Aly and Cal. They were at ease with each other, almost like siblings. The way it used to be with her and Eddie.
“It’s not your business whether I get along with my sister.” Aly said, lightly.
“Or anyone who reminds you of Kallie.” Cal looked pointedly from Aly to her.
“What—”
“Where’s Gar?” She didn’t know exactly what Cal was getting at, but she wasn’t going to let Aly storm off again.
“He’ll be here soon.” Aly.
“The guy has low-life written all over him. Al, when are you going to get some taste in men?” Cal said.
Her eyes narrowed at Cal. “I liked you until two minutes ago.”
“Case in point.” Cal held his cooler up to her and took another swig.
“What do you think about Gar?” Aly turned toward her.
“Eye candy.”
Aly burst out laughing. 
Cal’s crate thumped to the porch from where he’d been balancing on one edge. “Raine! I can’t believe you said that!”
Raine shrugged. “An honest opinion.”
“What do you think about Cal?” Aly asked.
Aly’s question wrenched on the adrenaline spigot in her stomach and she could feel it snaking through her body. She scrounged for a normal tone. “You’re the second person to ask me that tonight.” 
“Who was the other person?” Cal said.
“Your sister.”
“Figures. And your final answer is?” Cal moved from the crate to the floor bringing him to her eye level.
Never mind that Aly was sitting two feet from Cal, the bungee cord of attraction stretched taut between them. She shrugged as though she didn’t have a monster crush on him already. “…if you’re into surfers.”
Cal smirked. “I’ll see if I can upgrade by the end of the summer.” He finished off the wine cooler with his eyes on her.
Gar came around the edge of the laundry. “Hey.”
Aly startled. “Mother of God!” She spun around on her seat to face Gar. “You scared me!”
He looked at Aly, blinked once. “You ready?”
Aly slid off the porch. “Later, you guys.” She walked into the shadows with Gar.
Raine shifted uncomfortably on the rough boards of the porch. She looked at Cal, at the play of the moonlight on the waxy croton leaves, back at Cal. “Aly asked me to stop by—”
“Don’t stress, Raine. I’m not dangerous.”
That’s what he thought. “Tell me about the book you’re reading.” That should be a safe subject. The wind intensified, and she tucked her hands into her jacket pockets.
“The guy is a preacher’s kid—”
“I see the connection—”
“A thinking man. He explores Zen Buddhism, Native American religions, and—of course—basketball. He colors outside the lines.”
“Like you.” 
“I don’t get how you believe without checking out the options.”
“I know God’s real. I talk to Him, and He answers me.” How did you explain God, especially to someone who’d seen it all and was still shopping? 
“One of my buds hears God talking to him, too, but not till the bottom of a jug of Southern Comfort.”
“I don’t mean I hear His voice audibly. It’s more of an impression.”
“Anyway, if Christianity is the option—it will stand up to scrutiny. Or it won’t. Is that what you’re afraid of?”
Raine looked at him evenly. “It’s true.” 
“Whatever.”
Wind gusted across the porch, and the sky opened up, spitting mist against Raine’s face. She scooted against the building and pulled her knees in tight to her chest. She shivered.
With the rain sheeting against the porch roof, she didn’t realize Cal had slid over next to her till she felt the weight of his arm drop across her shoulders. She went still, almost afraid to breathe as the warmth of Cal’s body crawled through their clothing to her skin. 
It wasn’t like she’d never been this close to a guy. She’d had a boyfriend. But this was different. Jud wasn’t looking for a religion that would let him be his own boss.
“You smell good,” Cal said somewhere near her ear. 
She felt the rumble of his voice in his chest. “Aly’s shampoo,” she blurted.
The rain hammered the porch’s tarpaper roof, the sandy dirt, a two-foot swath of the weathered boards. She watched the water bounce crazily off the slick planks, memorizing the firmness of Cal’s chest against her arm, the feel of his fingers gripping her shoulder. For this moment, it was okay to be this close to Cal.
“Sitting here with you in the rain makes me think of something Douglas Coupland said in Shampoo Planet.”
Raine turned her face toward him.
“He said we tempt fate by accidentally feeling too happy one day.”
“Like if you’re completely happy, something’s bound to go wrong?” 
“Right.”
She couldn’t see his eyes in the cloud-obscured moonlight. “You’re happy?”
“Yeah, yeah I am.” His serious tone told her he was no longer toying with her. His fingers tightened on her shoulder. He leaned toward her, their lips inches apart.
Raine didn’t breathe. She was caught in now, a willing prisoner. Her eyes found Cal’s jaw—dark with a day’s worth of stubble—his eyes, darker still.
 Part of her heard the rain pull out as quickly as it had come, retreating across the athletic field behind them. 
Cal leaned his head back against the slats of the building, his arm going slack around her. “Something will go wrong like the rain will stop.”
The air emptied out of her lungs, and she breathed in reason. Maybe God’s stopping the rain was something going right. She eased away from Cal. Goose bumps along the path where Cal’s body had been cried for his warmth. But her brain was slogging to life now. 
“Thanks for being a gentleman and keeping me warm.” She rolled up onto her knees and stood, stiff from sitting so long. When Cal didn’t say anything, she looked back at him.
“Being a gentleman was not what I had in mind.” 
“Good night, Cal.” She walked quickly back to her cabin, attraction and caution a jumble of sparking electric wires inside her. 
She tiptoed between the girls’ bunks trying to remember where the squeaky boards were till she got to her room. She didn’t bother turning on the light. Aly was usually out late. Raine slipped onto her knees. 
Forgive me for breaking the camp alcohol rule. She sighed. Lord, I need Your help to kill this crush. I should have asked a whole lot sooner! She stayed there on her knees wishing God would fry her feelings with a cosmic bug zapper. And why did she think she was a missionary when she couldn’t explain God to a guy who’d grown up with Him? Her words to Cal had been dead, sun-baked bits of bougainvillea scraping across the four-square court. Give my words Your power. Life.
The door opened. Aly slipped into the room. The door shut.
Aly tripped over Raine’s legs. “What the—are you praying?”
“Not anymore.”
Aly scooted onto Raine’s bed. 
She crawled onto the other end next to her pillow. She felt Aly move, heard the thunk of her shoe as it hit the floor. Was she drunk? The other shoe tumbled to the floor.
“I have a question that’s been bugging me all evening.” Aly was still whispering. They both knew better than to wake up the younger girls in the next room. She didn’t sound drunk.
“If you won’t disobey a speed limit sign, why did you take a drink of Cal’s wine cooler on camp property?”
It felt like Aly had knocked all the air out of her lungs. “I was tempted, and I gave in. I asked God to forgive me right before you came in.”
“Did He?”
“Yeah.”
“And you feel great now, no guilt, no regret?”
“I still feel bad about it.”
“Well, I don’t—feel bad about breaking a camp rule. There are too many other… never mind. Why were you tempted?”
“I don’t know—”
“Doesn’t wash. I can always remember exactly why I was tempted.” Aly leaned toward her. “Cough it up.”
“I wanted to fit in?”
“Lame.” The sound of Aly tapping her fingers against her arm sounded loud in the silent room. “You’ve got the hots for Cal! And drinking after him was like—swapping spit.”
She sucked in her breath.
“Busted!” Aly burst out laughing and immediately smashed her hand across her mouth to muffle herself. The whole bunk bed shook with Aly’s now-silent laughter.
Finally, she broke down and laughed with Aly.
Aly stilled. “Maybe you aren’t so different from me. Maybe we can be friends.”
A cloud passed by, and moonlight bathed Aly’s face. She leaned toward Aly. “Then you won’t tell Cal?”
Aly sobered. “Why don’t you want him to know? He’s a great guy.”
Could she trust Aly? She took a breath and plunged in. “After you left tonight, Cal and I got into a spiritual discussion.”
“No surprise there.” 
“We are so not on the same page. I didn’t realize how much till now.” She sighed. “Everybody doesn’t get to question their faith like Cal does. I haven't had the luxury for seven or eight years. I don’t know if Cal—or you, for that matter—can understand what it’s like to be so desperate you grab a stranglehold around God’s neck and hang on.”
“Seven or eight years! What is it?” She heard an uncharacteristic tenderness in Aly’s voice.
“Can you keep this to yourself? I’ve only told one other person.”
“Yeah. I can.” Aly’s voice held resolve.
“My—” She couldn’t hold it together. Silent sobs racked her body. Aly grabbed a roll of toilet paper and handed it to her. Then, she rubbed her back in circles till she was cried out.
Eddie, the trip to Lost Lagoon with Drew, and their argument trickled out.
When she stopped talking, they sat in the silence. The cabin creaked. Outside, crickets droned. 
“I’m so sorry, Raine. I feel helpless. There’s not a single thing I can do to fix things.”
“You’re wrong. You let me cry. I didn’t have to cry alone.” She breathed in a ragged breath. “I actually feel better, like I could go to sleep now.”
Aly reached over and hugged her neck, pressing their cheeks together. Somebody’s hair was smashed between them. Aly held on. “Raine I was so wrong about you. So very wrong.” Another second went by before Aly let go. 
“Wrong, how?”
She heard Aly’s chuckle in the dark. “You do need a friend.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you!”
Aly climbed into her own bunk. The bed creaked and Raine heard Aly’s voice nearby. “Thanks for trusting me. I won’t let you down. Night.” Her voice was soft.
Raine lay back and rolled onto her side. Thank you, Lord! The pillowcase was cool against her face. Weariness from expelling emotion settled over her, a welcome blanket of peace, and she drifted toward sleep.
What if Cal actually liked her? Her eyes popped open.

Chapter 6

Drew padded across tiny castles last night’s squall  had sculpted in the sand. The sky had washed out gray with a ribbon of light lying on the horizon. He stopped to watch the first millimeter of a butter-white sun poke through the Atlantic.
Morning, Jesus. 
Fourteen minutes from his alarm going off. Not bad. 
He glanced down the beach. Rainey’s dark bob moved toward the jetty. Her arms waved around in front of her as though she were talking to someone he couldn’t see. She hadn’t showed yesterday morning. She was probably still ticked at him. 
The pages of his Bible whispered through his fingers. Loneliness yawned and stretched inside him. Talk to me. 
A cord of three strands is not easily broken.
Well, he’d broken it with Rainey. He sighed and read the verse again. He had friendship with Jesus. And, yeah, it was sweet, but someone visible would be nice. Jesse and Keenan were good, but he needed a friend who was a peer. Like Rainey. 
Notes and words flowed out of him like water out of the Cape Canaveral Canal Lock. At last, he slumped over his guitar and closed his eyes. “Amen.”
When he opened his eyes Rainey stood a few feet away, looking uncomfortable. They both spoke at once. “Sorry I went off on you,” Rainey said. 
“Sorry I made you mad.”
They exchanged uneasy smiles.
“Forgive me?” He held his hand up to her.
Rainey nodded. “Yeah.” She shook his hand. “I’ll think about what you said.” 
Silence pinged back and forth between them. Rainey’s eyes, green with pinpricks of light, matched the exact shade of the water sloshing on the sand. He sucked in fresh-washed air and blew out tension. Maybe Rainey could be that friend. He stood and dusted the sand off the seat of his shorts.
Rainey gazed out to sea. “I wanted to ask you about something.” She looked back at him. “Cal says we should explore other religions, not accept what our parents taught us. How can I explain God? It’s like trying to explain Narnia to someone who’s never stepped through the wardrobe. I feel so—’untried,’ Cal called me.” 
“You’re tried alright.” So, she wasn’t telling Cal about Eddie. Something warm fizzed between his ribs. “But it won’t hurt to read up on other religions.”
Rainey chewed on her bottom lip. He set his guitar into its case and flipped the latches shut. 
“I wish I’d listened better in my comparative religions class. All religions are about man reaching out for God. Christianity is about God reaching out to man. That’s what I remember. Pretty pathetic for a semester’s worth of classes.” 
“Sounds like you boiled the course into a one-sentence summary.” He glanced at her sneakers as they headed toward the seawall. His lips tugged into a smile remembering how embarrassed she had been when he teased her about her feet. Well, she wasn’t in a teasing mood today. Was it Eddie or Cal who weighed down this morning? 
He sat on the seawall bench and held a hand out to her. “You look like you could use some prayer.”
Rainey sat beside him. “That’s the understatement of the week.”  
Drew squeezed her hand and looked at the sun inching higher in the sky. “Lord, please lift Rainey’s chin.” His eyes darted to hers. “Sorry, I forgot I’m not supposed to call you Rainey.”
“It’s okay. I was mad the other night. I wanted to hurt you. That’s the first time in years Eddie’s used that name.” She smiled and the warmth spread through him as though the fizzing infiltrated his bloodstream. 
Her head dropped and her eyes slid shut. “Guide me as I study things Cal’s into. Rescue, Eddie.”  Her voice caught. “Please.” 
“Yeah, and Rainey could use some peace. Hope.”
Rainey tapped the top of his hand that held hers. He swiveled his eyes toward hers.
“What do you want me to pray for?” Her eyes bore into him. 
He looked out across the water, and back at Rainey’s small hand resting loosely in his. He pushed the words out. “My brother left last week for Japan—for two years. I feel like he tossed my life out of the plane somewhere between here and Tokyo, and none of the pieces have landed yet.” 
Rainey dropped her chin to her chest. “Comfort Drew. Comforter is one of Your names, so I think You must be pretty good at it. And show Drew if he needs to make any course corrections.”
“Amen.” Course corrections?  He hadn’t thought of his situation that way. He looked out at the gulls dive-bombing for their breakfast and back at Rainey shoving strands of dark chocolate, ruby, and cobalt out of her eyes—from one kind of beauty to another. How about a course correction toward Rainey? 
Rainey’s hand slid out of his as she stood and he wished it back. They walked toward camp. 
“What do you sing on the beach?”  
His guitar case thumped against his back in rhythm with his steps. “Sometimes I sing songs. Sometimes I just sing.” 
“Do you ever write the words and music down?”
“Never thought about it.” 
“Write them down.”
His grin arced inward, lodging somewhere near his heart. “Bossy aren’t we? The perfect case of a person living up to her name. Raine.”
“That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name. I order you to call me Raine!”
He stopped in the middle of the road and faced her. “Since when am I your subject, Rainey?”
She stared back at him for a long moment, emotions he couldn’t read warring in her eyes. “Since never.”

#

Raine sat in her empty classroom cutting out patterns from purple construction paper for tomorrow’s Bible craft. Deep orange light splashed across the table, and a mosquito buzzed through the open window. Raine waved it away with a multicolored sheaf of papers.
“Hey, s’up?” Cal walked through the door.
The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up. She’d waited until after supper to avoid being in the building in the afternoon when Cal taught classes. She hadn’t studied nearly enough to talk religion with Cal. “What are you doing here?”
“What, I can’t stop in and say hello?”
“I mean, now, when you don’t have class.”
Cal shrugged and pulled out a chair across the table from her. “No waves.” He flipped the chair around and straddled it.
Even with the table between them, he felt way too close. She obviously wasn’t making any headway killing the crush. 
Help!
“Help?”
Raine’s head jerked up. 
“Do you want some help cutting out—”
Relief shot through her. “Crèches.” 
“Right.”
“I was finishing up.” She gathered the cutouts into a pile. She’d only started ten minutes ago. Maybe a white lie was okay when she was trying to stay away from Cal. She would come in early in the morning instead of taking her walk on the beach.
She grabbed her canvas bag. “I need to go. See you tomorrow. Thanks for the offer—” She avoided Cal’s eyes. She gave a little wave in his direction and walked across the classroom toward the door. Six more steps till she was safely out the door—away from his sharp mind that made her leap and pirouette to keep up, his citrus scent, the full lips she’d almost tasted. Three steps. 
“Raine.”
She stopped, one foot in the hall, one foot in the classroom.
“Why do you do this? You were like a normal person the other night on the laundry porch. Now you’re this automaton. Cold. I finally decide there’s a real girl under the Bible college babe. A girl I like. Then you see-saw? Why?”

#

Drew sat on a two-by-eight in the outdoor classroom along the tree line. He ran through the last song he needed to practice before elementary campfire. From where he sat, he’d seen Rainey head into the lodge by the back door soon after dinner. Later, Cal had gone in through the front door. And he hadn’t come out. 
He should pray for Rainey. Maybe she was having that spiritual conversation with Cal she wanted to have. Please let that be the case. Okay, so that wasn’t the kind of prayer he should be praying. He was sitting smack dab in the middle of limbo—not in a relationship and not free to be interested in Rainey or any other girl—where he’d been for years. Before it hadn’t mattered. Did it matter now?
Rainey thought enough about his music to order him to write it down. Had Samantha believed in him like that? Sam had been his world for a semester, yet he couldn’t remember ever singing in front of her. How did something that was such a huge part of his life not get woven into their relationship? Maybe after all this time he didn’t remember.
The point was, Rainey’s compliment had drummed on his heart all week. There wasn’t much else in his life, except God, that was more important to him than music. And Rainey had chosen that one thing to encourage. 
Time had washed so much of Sam away. He remembered dumb stuff, like how the inside of her purse looked like a landfill; how her long, thin fingers laced with his like they were created for each other; that she liked Ranch on her fries and how she could beat him on the ropes course at Daytona State.
What did he know about Rainey? She was flat out for God and had a whacked brother. 

#

Cal stared at Raine across her classroom. She stood in shadow, beyond the russet sunset flooding through the windows. Why did she shut him down whenever he went looking for her?
He’d been attracted to her the first night at the opening staff meeting, or he wouldn’t have spoken to her. But there was so much more to Raine than a pretty face with ‘Bible teacher’ stamped across her forehead. She was all about crawling under his skin.
“I can’t let myself care about you, Cal. We don’t believe the same things.” The words sounded like they’d been drug through gravel.
“You’re worried about the missionary-and-the-heathen thing.” He stood up and flipped his chair under the table. He could see her tense as he came closer. 
He stopped eye to eye with her. “I’m talking about friendship.” 
He watched her cheeks pink. She looked away and back at him. “As long as you understand that’s all it will be.”
His gaze dropped to her lips and back to her eyes. “Perfectly.” Her rejection felt like a slap across his face. He put one shoulder through the doorway where Raine stood. Enough of this.
“I didn’t mean to insult you.” Her breath warmed his cheek.
He stopped and turned toward her. 
“You’re entitled to your beliefs. It’s just that—” She looked down at her fingers clenched on the straps of her bag. “—I’ve always wanted to be a missionary. You wouldn’t be happy with my goals.”
“You’re digging yourself in deeper. I’m not good enough for you. Leave it at that.”
“I didn’t say—” 
“I flunked out of college.”
Raine’s pupils nearly eclipsed the jade of her eyes.
“Yeah, I have twelve whole credits—all in art. I have no significant job history, an artist’s temperament. And I’m not spiritual enough for you.”
“You’re plenty spiritual. You read Phil Jackson’s Sacred Hoops that brings Zen Buddhism and native American religion to bear on basketball. You know Daoism—”
“Wait! You read Sacred Hoops?” 
A hint of a smile curved her lips. “It goes fast when you leave out all the references to basketball.”
He shook his head. She read Sacred Hoops because he mentioned it in conversation. 
“This week I’m studying Zen Buddhism. Next week, Islam. By the way, enlightenment through reading the Bible is a lot easier than doing zazen.”
“Why? Why are you doing this?” Now he was the one uncomfortable standing inches apart in the doorway. But he didn’t move.
“You were right. I need an education on the religions my students will be coming from.”
“Buddhism and Native American religions?”
“Those are to understand you.” The words came out fast, like she spoke before she thought.
“Going to a lot of trouble for someone you don’t want a relationship with.”
Raine’s breath caught. She looked away from him, over his shoulder toward the lodge door.
Even after waving his failures in her face, she was interested. All of a sudden he was caught by the burnt orange light dousing the tables and chairs, the deep shadows in the aisles, and how the light bathed Raine with color and shadow. He wanted to paint her here like this. He wanted to capture this moment when he discovered she cared about him—even when she didn’t want to.
“Raine.” He waited till she brought her eyes back to his. “Let me help you with the rest of the paper crèches. You weren’t finished with them, were you?”
She smiled guiltily. “Just started.” 

Chapter 7

Raine pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her eyes swept across the Canteen porch to the pines lining the dirt road. She warily studied her father, sitting next to her on the bench. His last dye job—an exercise in the ridiculous Mom insisted on—had grown out a couple of inches, the familiar white stripe making him look like a skunk. 
She was tired of fending off all his questions about Eddie. “Thanks for stopping by, Dad.” Maybe he would get the hint and leave. 
“That reminds me. I brought your mail.” He pulled envelopes out of his back pocket and handed them to her. “You’ve got one there from the Passport Office. You didn’t tell me you were applying for a passport.”
She could hear him exhale. Funny how you could hear displeasure in the way a person breathed. 
She ripped off the end of the offending envelope. The dark blue booklet slid into her hand. She flipped it open to her grainy image, ran a finger over the United States seal, and breathed in the newness. She’d never been out of the state of Florida. 
“When I was a little girl, Mom used to read me story after story about missionaries. When I was in second grade, I decided I wanted to be a missionary. In third grade, I decided to go to Africa. It’s not like you haven’t had time to adjust to the idea.”
“You don’t take a eight-year-old’s decision as gospel.”
“But my desire to go to Africa has only gotten stronger over the years. You watched The Invisible Children documentary. How could you not be moved?”
“Raine, it’s not safe for an unmarried woman to go to Uganda. You could get raped or killed.” 
“That could happen here.”
“Uganda is at war.” His voice was tight.
“Somebody has to take care of the children.” She saw Drew look up from buying a soda at the snack bar window.
Her father shook his head, disappointment radiating from him like the wintergreen scent of his breath mint. 
She dropped her feet down to the floor. “Don’t you want me to do what God is telling me in my heart to do?”
Her father’s jaw clenched the way she’d seen it clench a thousand times. “God put me in authority over you. That didn’t end when you turned twenty-one. It ends when you marry.”
Honor your father flashed through her mind, and she bit down on the words she wanted to say. Great. She’d ask every guy she knew if he wanted to go to Africa, then marry the first one who said ‘yes.’ She was sick to death of her father dictating her life. Africa wasn’t far enough away. She counted to ten, backwards. Then went into negative numbers.
Her father stood. “Keep that in mind.” 
She bit on the inside of her cheek to keep from stomping her foot and yelling at him like she was twelve.
Dad walked across the Canteen porch. He stopped and turned back toward her. “See you on Sunday.” It was a command, not an invitation.
Raine stared at him, stone-faced until he turned and went down the steps. She watched his shoulders move along the side of the porch and out into the parking lot thinking all the words she wanted to scream at him.
Drew dropped onto the bench where her father had been sitting, and she ignored him. He scooted a few inches away. “You look like you’re ready to blow.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Will you marry me and move to Africa?”
Drew’s eyes popped open wide, his brows arching. “I’ve gotten some whopping hints dropped on me, but nobody’s actually proposed!” He grinned at her, entirely too pleased at her outburst.
Her shoulders sagged. “Forget it. My dad makes me so mad. Just once, I wish I could tell him exactly what I think.”
Drew slouched against the back of the bench and popped the tab on his grape soda. “I think you’d regret it like Meg Ryan did in You’ve Got Mail.”
She stared into his eyes as if she could discover the truth in them. “Maybe you’re right.” And then the play by play of her conversation with her father tumbled out.
Drew tilted his head back and shook out the last of his bag of Cheez-its into his mouth. He brushed the crumbs off his fingers.
“I’m getting my shots, applying for a Ugandan visa, and writing to the mission agency to see when my contract is coming.”  She slapped her passport into Drew’s palm. “I’m going to Africa, Drew, no matter what my dad says.”
He thumbed through her passport. “Nice picture.”
“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Drew handed her the passport. “Nope.” He took a long drink of his soda, crushed the can and fired it into the waste can across the porch. “Nice shot,” he congratulated himself.
“Some friend you are. You won’t sympathize, give me advice.” She threw her hands up in the air.
“Five minutes ago I was almost your fiancé.”
“Are you ever serious?”
Drew stood. “I have my moments.”
She looked at him, incredulous. She’d dumped her heart out on the Canteen floor, and Drew was going to walk away. Something in her chest hurt.
Drew’s face sobered. “You’re still too mad to listen to advice. I don’t know what I’d say, anyway. I’m going to go pray about this. Maybe I’ll have something to say by the time you cool off. As for sympathy—” He pulled his pockets inside out, and dropped a misshapen piece of Double Bubble into her hand.
She watched Drew lope across the athletic field. The sugary flavor of the gum filled her senses. 

#

Early evening sun and humidity wrapped around Raine like a sweater. She wiped the moisture from her neck with her hand. Around the gazebo, birds twittered in the oleanders. She filled in another box in her lesson plan.
Her head popped up like it had for the past half hour at regular intervals. Even to herself, she hated to admit she was looking for Cal. He usually surfed after supper. He should be headed back to camp anytime now.
The orange and green tip of his board came around the bend in the road first. Then, she saw Cal. Golden sun sparkled on droplets of water caught in his hair. He carried his surfboard under one arm, his biceps bulging under the weight. His T-shirt was wet in splotches like he’d put it on without drying off first. 
Cal looked up, shot her a wide smile—almost like he guessed she was waiting for him—and swerved toward her. Her pulse sped up another notch.
He nestled the end of his board, fin up, in the sand and leaned it against a post in the gazebo. The leg cord dangled loose at its side, like her feelings for Cal.  
“The kids call this Suck Face Gazebo.” Cal sat on the railing and hoisted his feet over the top onto the bench beside her.
“I’ve never seen anyone kiss in the gazebo.”
Cal nailed her with a look. “Stick around.”
She tugged her gaze away from him. Cal was flirting with her. Why? What changed the day he helped her cut out crèches? 
“You know, Raine, I’m not the heathen you think I am.” He leaned toward her, elbows on his knees.
“Oh?” She eyed him steadily.
“Seriously, I’ve still got a foot in Christianity—”
“Like your painting.”
Cal stared at the white oleander blooms. “Yeah.” He looked back at her. “Don’t you ever have doubts?”
“Can’t afford doubts.” She closed her notebook and set it on the bench. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to tell Cal about Eddie.
“You just sucked in everything your parents said like a blowfish filling up with air.”
“If that’s what you want to believe.”
“Then tell me why you don’t doubt.” Cal’s intensity funneled through his gaze like a laser into her soul. 
She could smell the scent of the sea off his skin. She looked down at his thick toes on the bench beside her. She needed an answer Cal could stand on. Lord?
“Because God has proven Himself to me.”
“Like how?”
“He comforts me, tells me what to do if I ask Him,” she said.
Cal lifted his snowy brows in question.
“I get an impression of what He wants me to do.”
“And everything works out peachy, as my grandma would say.”
She flinched at his sarcasm. “Sometimes.”
“Don’t you wonder whether you got it right—your impression?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you try to do whatever God says,” Cal said, “a slave groveling at her Master’s feet— like they’ve tried to beat into my head all my life.” 
“More like lover-beloved.”
“Come again?”
“Ever read Song of Solomon?” she asked.
Cal cracked a wicked grin. “In junior high when we were supposed to be reading Matthew.” He sobered. “You’re saying the lover talk between Solomon and his wife represents God’s relationship with a person? Kinky.”
“Lovers aren’t limited to sex. Haven’t you ever had moments out on a wave that overwhelm you? Dew on a leaf, light catching a child’s face? You feel touched somehow. Loved.”
Cal was quiet, staring at his hands that hung limply between his knees. He looked down at her. “Score one for the missionary.”
Something turned over inside her.
“Why is faith easy for you when it’s been a royal battle for me?”
“Faith is a choice I made.”
“According to Christianity, if you don’t choose God, you’re going to hell. What’s the use of having a choice if we have to choose God?”
“Would you want a woman to love you because she had no choice, or because she chose you?”
Cal caught her eye, his face inches from hers. “What are you saying?” 
“I’m talking about God.”
Cal’s blue gaze bored into her. “What do you choose?”
“I just told you.”
Cal stood and leaned toward her, a hand on the railing on either side of her. “What if I chose you?” His face was inches from hers; his breath fanned her cheek. “Me with one foot stuck in Christianity like a bear trap? What would you choose?”
The shallow puffs of her breath were loud in the silence between them. His eyes bore into hers, challenging everything she believed. Her gaze dropped to his full lips, back to his eyes.
Give me strength.
“God.”
Her hoarse whisper hung in the night air. 
Cal straightened. “All our conversations go in circles.” His voice was tinged with disgust and something she couldn’t name. He reached for his board and hefted it onto his shoulder. “Enjoy your choice, Raine.” He walked down the road, his sandals scuffing against the dirt road.
Oh God. Her heart cartwheeled after Cal and she couldn’t stop it.  
Was this what Jesus felt when Satan offered him all the kingdoms of the world?

#

Drew walked into camp, Rainey at his side. Beads of moisture still blanketed the grass and the gazebo. The smell of bacon wafted from the dining hall. “Lord, I pray for Rainey’s conflict with her father. Show her if there is something underneath the issue that’s fueling their disagreement.”
“Wait!” Rainey stopped in the middle of the road. “One of Cal’s paintings popped into my head. I think God just answered your prayer. I misinterpreted something in the painting. Come see what I mean.” She motioned with her head for him to follow her into the Lodge.
They stood in front of the painting for several minutes without saying anything. Art wasn’t his thing, but he could wait out Rainey until she told him how the painting affected her.
“That could be Dad.” She pointed at the man. “The kid who is almost free of his shadow is Eddie. Last time I looked at the painting I saw the rest of us kids still bowed down under the weight of Dad’s shadow. For sure, I didn’t want to get out the way Eddie has.”
“What about your father is making you hunch over?”
“I thought he wanted to micro manage every aspect of my life. But you made me think about the underlying cause.”
Drew rubbed his chin and felt the stubble. He needed to shave before breakfast. 
Rainey stared hard at the picture as if it would tell her the answer. “Dad and I were close before Eddie got into drugs. I remember always being grateful he was a teacher and was home more with me than other  kids’ dads, even homeschooled kids. But when I became Eddie’s secret keeper, I had to shut off from Dad or he’d be able to tell something was going on.” 
She looked at Drew. “Why don’t you come with me on Sunday for lunch with the folks? Maybe if you’re there, I’ll remember to work on improving my relationship with Dad. And maybe he won’t bring up Africa and set me off.”
“I’ve never been known to turn down a home-cooked meal!” 
“Good.” Rainey turned her attention back to the painting. 
Drew watched her study the picture. Yeah, he wanted to meet the folks—because he and Rainey were friends, as she made perfectly clear. The traditional reason was a long shot, but a mighty sweet one. Her proposal, never far from the surface, popped into his mind.
“Dad plays the guilt card. ‘A good daughter wouldn’t ask to live on campus,’ and ‘think how it would hurt your mother and me if you went to the other side of the globe.’“
“Maybe your dad misses the closeness you used to have, too.” 
Cal walked in. “Whoa. Is it art appreciation hour and I didn’t get the memo?”
Drew watched Rainey go beet red. Hello. What was that about?
“I showed Drew your painting.”
Cal’s eyes narrowed. “At least it’s one of my better ones.” He tossed a box of paintbrushes onto a table. Cal was steamed. You’d think he’d be pleased people were admiring his work instead of territorial. Go figure.
“You guys headed to the dining hall for breakfast?” Rainey sounded too cheerful.
“Gotta go.” He headed for the door. “Catch you later.” He’d never cared much for Cal, and he wasn’t sticking around for a front row seat to Cal and Rainey’s drama. He jogged down the Lodge steps, his gut churning. What did she see in that guy anyway? 

#

Raine eyed Cal uncomfortably. Cal seldom showed his face before noon, what was he doing up so early? God, protect me from my feelings for Cal. 
She stepped toward the door. “I’m starved!” 
“Raine, I get that you’re not interested in anything more than friendship with me.” 
His words fell on her back. She stopped, not turning around, absorbing the tightness in his voice. What do I do, Lord?
“But do you have to treat me like a pariah?”
Every minute she spent with him, she fell deeper into the blue of his eyes. She turned toward him. “I haven’t been around much this week because I have a zillion details to get done for Africa.” That was true, but they didn’t all have to be done this week. “Come on, let’s eat breakfast.” She glanced back toward the door.
Cal looked at her like he was reading the small print on her heart. She held her breath. He brushed past her in the doorway and pushed through the screen lodge door into the morning sun.

Chapter 8

Silverware clinked on the Sunday china. Raine’s taste buds smiled as she chewed Mom’s pot roast. She glanced at Drew and caught his eye, glad she’d thought to invite him as a buffer. Today she’d take that first step across the bridge back to relationship with Dad. How had she been blind for so many years? Eddie’s secrets weren’t hers to tell, but she didn’t have to completely shut herself off from Dad.
“So, you like teaching, Drew?” Dad said. 
Wow, Dad had a fresh dye job since Wednesday. What was the occasion? She shot her brother, Logan, a look, but his eyes were on Drew.
“Yeah, I’m in it for the long haul.”
Dad’s lips flattened out like they did when he was pleased. “What church do you attend?”
Would Dad give it a rest already?
“I grew up at Coronado Baptist, but I’ve been going to The Beach—the church associated with the camp—since it opened.”
Mom started the potatoes around the table for seconds. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about that church.”
She had to steer the family away from grilling Drew. “Dad, how’s summer school Algebra 1 going?”
“Fine. The kids apply themselves better the second time around, you know. By the way, did Raine tell you we homeschooled?” Dad eyed Drew. “What do you think of home schooling?”
“Raine sure turned out fine.” Drew’s smirk settled on her at the same time she realized what was going down: roasting the potential son-in-law for lunch. She could imagine how Drew would tease her after this.
She shot a long-suffering look at Logan who winked at her, obviously enjoying the whole event. She looked back at Dad willing him to talk about something, anything— “So, I made my plane reservation for Africa today.”
Dead silence.
Dad’s eyes bore into her. “There’s a twenty-four hour grace period. Get your money back.” 
She looked at Mom. “You believe God called me to Africa, don’t you?”
“Yes. But I don’t know when. Maybe your father is right. Maybe you need,” —Mom eyed Drew like the prize pig at the Volusia County Fair— “to tie up some loose ends before you go.” 
She clamped down on her lip with her teeth. Africa. She’d never wanted anything so badly in her life. 
Dad’s face turned the pink of the center of the roast. “Cancel the ticket.”
“I’m an adult.” She stood and glared at Dad. Somewhere under her anger she knew she’d botched the whole reconciliation.
“You won’t go with my blessing.”
“I have another month to decide. That’s when I have to pay for the ticket.” She squeezed the words out quietly with the last of her self-control and walked out the front door. 
In Drew’s truck, she drummed on the dashboard thinking about her sins—the way she used to send Antoine out in the back yard to think about his puppy misdeeds. Good thing Drew hadn’t followed her out to the truck. It wouldn’t have been pretty.  
As the minutes ticked by—what was Drew doing in there, anyway?—her anger ratcheted down. She’d only widened the gulf between her and Dad. She’d only been trying to deliver Drew from the hot seat. Boy-howdy, but that had backfired.
She drummed on the dash. She should go in and try again, but she just couldn’t suck up the want-to. 
Drew stepped out the front door and jogged down the steps. 
She eyed him as he got in. “About the inquisition. I had no idea—”
Drew pulled out onto Atlantic Avenue. “Your dad wanted to know what my intentions were.” 
Raine slid down in the seat and put her hands over her face. “Taking you home was the worst idea I’ve ever had.”
“You were the one who brought Africa up.”
“To rescue you.”
“Me? I was having fun. Don’t you want to know what I said?”
She peeked through her fingers at Drew.
He laughed. “Never mind. It wasn’t important.”
She sat up, refusing to analyze the emotions caterwauling inside her, but her stomach felt like she’d downed a Diet Coke and a package of Mentos.
Drew pulled to a stop behind the Canteen and turned the engine off. He looked at her. “Earth to Rainey. You can get out now.”
She opened the door and slid out onto the sandy lot. Her eyes ran over the clumps of grass growing against the building while she waited for Drew to exit the truck.
“Catch you later. I’ve got to do my laundry—”
“Drew!”
He laughed. “Oh, so you do want to know what I told your dad.”
“You are the most irritating guy on the planet! Tell me what you said. Now.”
“Bossy Queen Rainey!”
She pursed her lips and waited.
“I said my intentions were honorable.”
“Glad to hear it.” She spun and race-walked toward her cabin.

#

Drew watched Rainey march away from the truck. She was embarrassed by her family’s thinking they were a couple. He should have gone easy on her, but it was too hard to resist teasing her on this one. Then why didn’t he feel satisfied?  
Her shoulders were still rigid as she neared her cabin. Why was it so ludicrous to Rainey that he could be a husband candidate? She’d lit up when Cal stepped into the classroom the other day. What was he? Three-day-old-grouper? What about all the women from church who plied him with concert tickets and phone messages he never returned? They didn’t see anything wrong with him.
Rainey disappeared into her cabin. Why was he going down this road? For all he knew, God would bring Sam back into his life. Someday.

#

Raine slumped in Aly’s office chair. “Have you ever wanted something for so long, you’d do anything to get it?”
Aly scraped her chair across the wood floor and kicked the office door shut “Okay, I’ll play. Someone to hold me when I cry. Someone who loves the ‘me’ inside—no matter what. I want a career like this. I pretty much run the business end of camp and get Jesse’s approval.”
“Africa, for me.” Raine stared out Aly’s window at the bougainvillea pressing its fuchsia blooms against the dirty screen. “Are there things you don’t want to give up to get what you want?”
“Maybe.” Aly scrunched her nose. “Guys like Gar who are all about having a good time. If I keep dating Gars, I’m never going to find the guy who will love me for me.”
“I want it all—Africa, Dad’s permission, Eddie okay. Cal.”
Aly’s hazel eyes settled on her. “Cal’s not exactly missionary material.”
“Am I if I want Cal? I mean, Christianity is all about sacrifice, not about getting what you want.”
“You’re not converting me here.”
“Oh, sorry, I forget sometimes that you haven’t crossed over yet.”
Aly laughed. “Yet?”
She waved a dismissing hand toward Aly. “I’m not worried about you.”
Aly stared at her for a long moment, and Raine wished she’d thought before she spoke. 
“There’s something way down underneath everything in Cal,” Aly said. “Like bedrock. But I don’t know if it’s religion. I still can’t picture him preaching to Africans.”
Raine leaned forward on Aly’s desk. “Yeah. He thinks I look down on him like he’s not good enough. I can’t tell him I have to stay away from him because I like him too much.”
“Want me to say—”
“No!”
“I was just offering to help.”
“And now Drew thinks I took him home to meet the folks because I want to marry him.”
Aly’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t!”
“I wanted to keep my dad from badgering me about Africa. That’s all. I didn’t connect the dots until my dad had grilled-Drew for lunch.”
“Drew is sort of your type.”
“My type?”
“Religious. You have to admit, he’s good looking. I’d go after him myself if he weren’t so straight-arrow.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Raine stared at the photo of the Smyrna Queen on the wall behind Aly. “When I think about it, he’s only gotten better looking since I had a crush on him in junior high.”
“Ha! I told you!”
“Drew is Drew. Always teasing me like he was born into my family.”
“And he sees you—”
“Like a sister. He got such a hoot out of my family’s mistaking him for son-in-law material. And he’s never going to let me forget it.” She stood up.
Aly’s expression said she didn’t agree, but she let it go. 
Raine headed for the door. “Thanks, Aly, I feel better.”
“What did you mean, you aren’t worried about me? My sister is always crazy freaked-out about me—the loser guys, burning in hell, the whole deal.”
Raine shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’re that far from believing.”
Aly’s forehead wrinkled. “Why?” The word weighed a hundred pounds.
She had to get the answer right. Please, God. “Whenever faith comes up, you go zero to red hot. It must be an important issue.”
Aly started to say something, but she cut her off.  “And you get me. If you get me, then why wouldn’t you get—” 
“Jesus.” The anger Raine expected was missing from Aly’s voice.  
Raine slipped out the door and shut it behind her before Aly could change her mind and go ballistic. She’d told her the truth, but she couldn’t help feeling like she bungled it. Help Aly find her way. 
She walked across camp toward the tree line. Aly didn’t buy that Drew saw her as a sister. What did Drew mean when he said his intentions were honorable? What if Drew told her dad he was interested in marrying her? What. If. He. Were.

#

Cal thumb tacked the last of the kids’ paintings to the wall that separated his classroom from Raine’s. He flattened his hand against the wall, his gut reaching for her through the drywall, two-by-fours, and plaster. But he knew she wasn’t there. He’d barely seen her since the night at the gazebo—only when he walked in on her and Drew scrutinizing Day at the Beach and at a distance.
He was torqued that she rejected him in the gazebo. That never happened. Maybe he’d flunked out of college, but women loved him. Even Aly had never rejected him. Of course, he’d never given her the opportunity. Not only had Raine refused to kiss him, she wanted nothing to do with him.
He hoisted the heavy roll of art paper onto a table and unrolled a section. Why couldn’t he rewind his emotions to the beginning of the summer when Raine was simply entertainment. He hadn’t cared what she thought about him or anything else.
He ripped off a sheet of paper the length of the table and moved to the next table. There was no going back. He was hungry to look at her, really look. He hated feeling this way. And he hated that he didn’t measure up to the kind of guy Raine would be attracted to, a guy like Drew Martin. 
He’d find a way to get her out of his system. He ripped off another sheet of paper. Overexposure could work. Mom once fed him nothing but ice cream for three days to get him over his junk food phase. He’d find a way.

#

Raine was almost to the cabin when it hit her, the wave that was Eddie. It always swelled when she’d seen or heard from him. But today, it crashed over her unprovoked, a flood of pain, fear at its crest. It made the rest of her life seem insignificant. What did it matter whether Drew thought she was on a mission to walk him down the aisle? What did it matter if she was sliding down a hill into love with Cal?
Where was Eddie? What was he thinking? Was he suicidal? Overdosed? Beaten up by some drug dealer he owed money to? For her sake, would he go to rehab? But she knew the answers already. If he loved her enough, he’d already have gone. Long ago. 
The wave started at the bottom of her rib cage, in the center, and fanned out in all directions till she could only lie on her bunk and stare at nothing. The ache was too deep for crying. She knew from experience, she couldn’t walk it off, escape it with TV or a book. 
“God, make the pain stop. Rescue me. Help me. End my misery. I’m fine with checking out early. Jesus, You can come back and get me now.” She’d had the same conversation with God a dozen times. And she meant it. She wasn’t suicidal. That was Eddie. She was ready. More than ready for the pain to stop.
She texted Eddie.

#

Gray clouds hovered over the ocean as Raine approached the seawall. High tide licked the sand behind where Drew sat. He faced the shore and not the ocean the way she usually found him. When he spotted her, he jumped to his feet and walked toward her. 
She met him half way.
Drew looked down at her feet and back up to her eyes. “I’m sorry I teased you about your parents thinking we were going out. Sometimes I push it too far. Will you forgive me?” His eyes swirled with emotions she couldn’t read.
She walked toward the water. Drew followed. “I think I’m getting used to you. It wasn’t that big of a deal.” Not compared to her panic attack over Eddie.
“It didn’t sound like ‘no big deal’ when you stomped off.”
She stopped at water’s edge and looked over at Drew. “Sometimes I’m twelve inside and it bleeds to the outside. Embarrassing.” Her hair blew into her eyes.
Drew brushed it aside, his fingertips resting in her hair. “We’re okay, then?”
She smiled. “Yeah.” His touch was unnerving her. What if—
Drew’s hand dropped, and he turned back to watch the sun burn away the clouds.
Maybe the touch only felt intimate to her. He had just been making sure she’d forgiven him. 
They stood in silence watching the horizon.
She turned toward the jetty and took a few steps.
Drew came up beside her. “Any word from Eddie since we saw him at Lost Lagoon?”
Pain knifed through her at the sound of Eddie’s name. She glanced at Drew. “If I could divorce my brother, I’d do it. I try not thinking about him, not worrying about him, but it doesn’t work. He’s always there, like a redwood planted in my heart a hundred years ago.”
“I’m sorry you have to hurt like this.”
“Sometimes I hate him. He doesn’t care that yesterday I lay in my bunk staring at Aly’s springs, too paralyzed with fear and pain and anger to function. Could his suicide hurt any worse than this?” She peered at Drew, but she saw no judgment in his eyes, only compassion. “I want him to love me like he used to, to care about me enough to not torture me.”
“I don’t know Eddie, but I bet he’s not trying to hurt you.”
Tears sprung to her eyes. “Then why is he doing it?”
“It’s all about the drug. He can’t think straight when the meth has a stranglehold on him.” 
“I want out. Maybe in Africa, I’ll be free.”
Drew’s lips set in a firm line. He stared at the whitecaps dotting the Atlantic.
She wiped her tears away with her palms. She wasn’t the only one in the world with pain. “Do you still think about Kurt every day?”
“Yeah, I do.” He looked at her then. “Rainey, I wish I could promise you running to Africa would work. But my guess is the pain will go with you. The only thing I know is if you take God into those deep cracks Eddie’s made in your heart, you’ll fill them with something good. Somehow the suffering won’t be wasted.”
The truth of Drew’s words sunk in. How, Lord? Show me. “You didn’t hear this in a sermon, did you?”
Drew cracked a smile. “Hardly. I’ll tell you about it one of these days.” 
She held his gaze. “Yes you will.” 
Drew chuckled. 
She stepped around a mound of seaweed. “About Africa—can I honor my parents, but go to Africa against their wishes?” 
“I guess you have to listen to your conscience.”
“Dad says he’s my authority till I marry. What does the Bible say about it?”
“I’ll check it out, but you’re still going to have to submit to me one of these days—if I decide to accept your proposal, that is.”
She smacked him in the arm.
“Hey!”
“What? You’re the one who’s throwing something in my face I didn’t mean.”
“You’ve got some serious muscle for a girl.”
Drew stopped and grabbed her forearm. He ran the back of his finger over the swell of her biceps. “Pump iron?”
“Ice cream.” She yanked her arm away. “My last job was dipping ice cream. And I didn’t hit you that hard. Wuss.”
“Are we twelve again?”
She ignored him.
“The guy you marry better get the list—doesn’t submit well, might be stronger than you, name calling—”
“Jud didn’t need your list to change his mind about marrying me.”
Drew’s chin whipped back toward her. “Wh—what?
“My sick sense of humor. Jud was headed for the pastorate. He thought he’d be the one to change my mind about Africa.”
“But he didn’t.”
“No. And evidently no other guys at Mid Florida Bible College wanted to go to Africa because I didn’t have another date for the next three years of college.”
“He broke your heart?” Drew’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he peered at her.
“I thought so at the time.” She waved it away.
“How do you feel about going to Africa single?”
“I sure don’t have the gift of celibacy.” 
One corner of Drew’s mouth twitched.
She blushed.
“How do you know? This I want to hear!”
She looked out to sea. “If God loves me—and I know He does—He will either give me a husband in the next,” she looked at her watch, “two months, one week, three days, six hours. Or He has the guy waiting for me in Africa. Or He will be enough for me.” She crossed her arms and walked into the wind ahead of Drew.
When Drew caught up to her, she looked over at him. “What about you?”
“Race you to the jetty!” Drew took off at a dead run.
She laughed and ran after him. “You wait and see, Drew Martin, I’ll get the truth out of you!”

Chapter 9

Raine watched the campers and their counselors filter toward the road. In the light from the dying campfire, Jesse crouched beside Kallie with Jillian asleep in her lap. Firelight reflected off the blond of Kallie’s hair.
What would it be like to have a husband, a child? She shook the thought off. Lord, I believe You will get me to Africa over the obstacles of my father, and Cal—
As if he’d heard her prayer, Cal hunkered down beside her on the sand. She looked up at the glow of yellow flame on Cal’s face. Her heart picked up speed. She’d never seen him attend campfire. What was he doing here?
Night shadowed his eyes. “Stick around a few?”
She leaned forward, about to stand. “I, uh, I have to get going.” 
“Just a couple of minutes. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
What could she say? ‘No’ would be rude. “Just a few minutes.”
“Jess,” Cal called to his brother, “I’ll douse the fire.” He popped up and walked toward Jesse.
Jesse looked up, surprised.
Cal reached for the bucket. “You get your girls home.” Cal jutted his chin toward Kallie who was rubbing her back with one hand.
Jesse grinned at Cal. “Thanks, bro!”
Cal headed toward the water. Jesse scooped up Jillian and draped her limp form over one shoulder. He held a hand out to Kallie. She grabbed it and hefted her pregnant body from the sand.
Lord— Raine’s heart groaned. 
Jesse and Kallie waved and moved toward the road to follow the string of campers threading toward camp.
The bucket sloshed seawater as Cal set it down. He sat facing her, knees drawn up in front of him. One hand clasped his wrist. “I want to paint you.”
She sucked in a breath. What? 
“Your eyes are as big as sand dollars. Don’t freak, okay? I’ve wanted to paint you since the first time I saw you on the Canteen porch. You’ve got great bone structure. You could sit for me after dinner for like… a week.” 
No! The answer is ‘no’! “When will you surf?” She grasped at something, anything, to buy time to think.
“If I want to surf, I can get my butt out of bed in the morning.”
“I don’t know,” she hedged. She didn’t want Cal staring at her for who knew how long. 
“Look, I’m an artist. I don’t see someone every day I want to paint.”
All she could think about was how they were alone in the firelight right now. God, help me.
Wind blew off the ocean feeding the fire. Now she could see Cal’s eyes boring into hers. She shook her head. “I can’t, Cal—”
“Why?”
“It’s the same conversation we keep having.”
“You’re avoiding me. I used to see you fifteen times a day. This is the first time I’ve seen you this week, and I had to come looking for you.”
“I’m busy—”
“I don’t care if you hate my guts. Sit for me and I’ll leave you alone the rest of the summer. You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. It’s easier to paint without conversation anyway. You can pray for all I care.”
For you. “Okay, I’ll do it.” She had to get someplace where there were bright lights and people. Away from Cal.
“You will?” 
She laughed at his expression. “You look like you only got through half your arguments.”
He stood. “Am I that transparent?”
“Not usually.”
He tossed the water onto the fire. The embers sputtered while Cal went for a second bucket. She didn’t have a right to ask God to douse her feelings, not when she’d agreed to spend a week of evenings with Cal.
Cal emptied the second bucket onto the dying fire.
She helped him kick sand over the charred wood. 
They turned toward the seawall and hiked in the soft sand toward the road without speaking. Lights glowed in windows of the cement block duplexes, remnants of the sixties, that lined the street. Overhead, pine branches swayed, their needles filtering the moonlight before it reached the pavement.
She looked at Cal. “You’re not a pariah.” A circle of streetlight bathed his face, but his expression gave nothing away.
“I like you.” She looked away stepping into the shadow between streetlights. “You’re honest. You don’t let me keep things superficial…”
Their footsteps scuffed along the road into camp. Say something! 
Cal stopped in front of her cabin. “Thanks—for sitting for me. And for—what you said.” His voice was hoarse.
She stood on the porch and watched him walk away. She was so sunk.

#

Raine’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Eddie. Adrenaline streaked through her body as she opened his text. Her skin went clammy in the night air.
“Yesterday, 4 p.m., bullet missed me. Maybe you’re right.”
She sank onto the step of her cabin. Four was the exact time of yesterday’s meltdown over Eddie. What if—what if God had been urging her to “pray now” for Eddie because he was in crisis? Her prayers had been all about her and not about Eddie. Peace settled over her. Yes. Thank You. Next time she’d pray for Eddie.
“Right about what?” she texted back.
“That God is watching out for me. Even when I’ve ditched Him.”
She punched the letters into her phone. “It’s true.”
“I was scared. Really scared.”
Panic curled in the bottom of her stomach. “You okay?”
“Shaken. I hate my life.”
Oh God, don’t let him be suicidal. “Teen Challenge.”
“Maybe.”  
Thank You, Jesus.

#

Drew headed toward the Canteen porch. Time to get to work. 
He should have seen it coming—Rainey asking him what he thought about marriage. He’d only gotten out of answering by literally running away. What was he going to say the next time she asked? That he promised to marry Sam? But, man, he sure wouldn’t mind kissing Rainey first. Her family thinking he was a candidate for Rainey’s husband had affected him more than he wanted to admit.  
He looked at the post-it stuck to his “office” door—a padlocked cupboard built into the Canteen porch that housed the athletic equipment. Use athletic field or gym today. Jake. 
Keenan read the note over Drew’s shoulder. “Dude. I was looking forward to some killer water polo today.” 
“Me too. What’s Jake thinking? I was out there for an hour this morning. It was humid as all get out, but not a dark cloud in the sky.” 
“Über cautious, man.”
Keenan was right. Drew’s boss, Jake, was like a grandma when it came to safety issues. Jake had some close calls with storms when he ran his cruising business. But they would be fifteen yards from dry land playing water polo today. He’d watch for lightning. If it rained, so what? The kids would already be wet.
Drew looked down at the junior highers bunching around the Canteen steps. “We’re hitting the beach!”
A cheer went up.
After the junior high cabins played, the elementary kids’ game devolved into water dodge ball. Now, two cabins of senior high boys were out for blood. He and Keenan dispensed with officiating to join in the game. The floating goals were taking a beating when the guys fired on goal. They had to call time-outs more than once to reassemble the PVC pipes that held the net. This is what Drew loved about his job, being smack dab in the middle of a game, the shouts and grunts, the ball whizzing between players. Stu sailed into the air to block Keenan’s pass. Bubba Franks, who swam for New Smyrna Beach High School, nailed a goal so hard the net broke loose from the piping. 
Not seeing a need to stop for a minor repair, Drew swam to retrieve the ball where it had veered toward shore. He rifled it back into play. Separated from the other players, Drew heard an odd sound, or maybe it was the absence of sound that should be there. He sensed more than saw something menacing. His gaze flicked toward the horizon. An asphalt-gray water spout, maybe ten stories high, barreled toward them.
“Run! Everyone out!” He waved his arms. In his mind he could see the decimated shrimp boats on the front page after a spout touched down in the Keys. 
The boys were too focused on the shouts and the game to hear him. “Danger! Run!” Not even Keenan noticed him. 
He turned and dove with the waves heading for shore and swam hard for the beach. The ocean in his mouth tasted like fear. His eyes stung. Please God! Get the boys out, now! His lungs felt like they were about to burst.
He hit the shallows running and pummeled into the dry sand where his whistle lay on a towel. Thank God. 
He put the whistle to his lips and blew a long shrill blast. The funnel was moving fast bearing down on them as though they were the bull’s-eye. He made huge arcs in the air with a red T-shirt he grabbed off the sand. Please God! He took a quick breath and blew again. 
Keenan’s head jerked toward him, and he sprung into action, yelling, grabbing boys by an arm, a handful of hair, the shoulder of a shirt. In seconds all the boys were scrambling for shore. Faster, faster! The spout was closing in on them, looking like it was going to chew up the last seven guys in the water. Drew ran into the waves, grabbing arms, sling-shotting boys toward shore. 
“Run!” he panted, “Run hard for camp!”  If they could make it past the tree line— 

Chapter 10

Aly looked up from the kitchen duty schedule she was working on as Cal flung into her office. He yanked the MP3 player headphones out of her ears.
“Twister!” was all he said between sucking in air. When she didn’t move, he grabbed her biceps and shoved her under the desk. “The whole camp is holed up in the dining hall. Waterspout gone wild.”
Cal’s shoulder smashed up against hers in the gloom under her desk. Her head spun. Her tailbone smarted from hitting the floor. The scent of Cal’s deodorant and the sound of his short, loud breaths filled the cutout between the side drawers of her desk.
“I came looking for you when I didn’t see you in the dining hall.”
Good thing. Obviously, Gar hadn’t given her the same consideration.
“Is the spout going to hit us?” She twisted her head toward Cal.
“You’re shaking.” He slid his arm around her. “Even if it hits us dead on, there are two blocks of land between us and the ocean to slow it down. Besides, this dinosaur of a desk must weigh three hundred pounds. You’re safe.” 
Cal’s breathing settled into its normal cadence, smelling faintly of mint. She’d never been this close to him, and it felt right somehow. To Raine, Cal was a risk, but to her he was security. Cal’s friendship had been constant for the past six years when boyfriends changed with the shades of her lip gloss.
Cal rubbed the fabric of her short sleeved jacket between his fingers. “Man, Aly, you look all grown up this summer. Fancy duds. I’m used to little Aly in shorts and T-shirts.”
Pretzeled into the small space, she still managed to elbow him in the ribs. She was only two years younger. “You see me stuck at fourteen when we met.”
Cal laughed, and she felt his chest rumble against her. “Maybe, but you sure didn’t look fourteen when we met. I had to keep reminding myself you were only in eighth grade.”
She swiveled her head so she could see his eyes in the shadow. “Really?”
“Let’s see,” Cal ticked off on his fingers, “freshman year you went with Grant Fallon—”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Soph it was Geoff Ramirez and Jon Archer. Then, I graduated and tried not to know who you were going out with.”
“You liked me?” Warmth bubbled up in her like a pan of homemade fudge on the stove. “—when you were painting me?”
“Duh.” Cal’s smile was lopsided.
And now he was painting Raine. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against Cal’s arm. It was firm under her neck. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“So I could get in line?”
She didn’t move. The back of her head pressed against the desk. “Maybe there wouldn’t have been a line if you’d told me.”
The howl of the wind startled her alert. A shutter banged on the outside of the office. Then, rain pelted the building with the force of a pressure sprayer. She curled into Cal and he held her. The fear crept out of her body. She could stay here forever.
The rain eased off first, then the wind, until everything went eerily quiet.
She crawled out from under the desk and crossed herself. Thank God they were okay. Nothing like a twister to turn a girl religious. Raine would laugh at that. 
Cal stretched, tugging his T-shirt taut across his chest. 
Her breath caught. Something had changed for her during the twister. She’d always known Cal was an attractive guy. But Cal’s searching for her and protecting her in his arms had woken up emotions that had been sleeping on the floor of her soul for a very long time.
“Come on. Let’s go check out the damage.”
“Cal.”
He looked back at her.
“Thanks for telling me. It means a lot.”
“Sure, kid.” He flashed her a grin, threw an arm over her shoulder and moved them through the doorway. 
Ancient history to him. Today to her.

#

Drew and Keenan were the last to leave the beach, digging their heels into the soft sand as though they were running in slow motion. The wind whipped around them blowing sand in their eyes. The last of the boys were already on the blacktop speeding away from them.
He pumped his legs harder. His bare feet hit asphalt. He took off for camp at a dead run, Keenan matching his strides step for step. Tree branches crashed in the distance. The wind howled behind them as they flew past the Welcome to New Smyrna Beach Surf and Sailing Camp sign. 
The camp looked vacant, like it had been closed for the season—minus the boards. He heard nothing but wind, then a shout through the dining hall screen. Bubba Franks’ crazy red head and one arm poked through the doors waving them in.  They tore up the steps and through the swinging doors. Bubba jammed chairs against the doors while he and Keenan hurtled into the room. 
“Drew!” Raine motioned him toward where she huddled under a table with the girls from her cabin. Keenan ducked under another table. Drew skidded to a stop and tumbled up against Raine. He dropped his head against his bent knees and sucked in air, his lungs feeling like fire. As his breathing slowed, he felt Raine’s hand rubbing circles on his back. Nice.
Wind filled the room causing the building to shudder. The swinging doors broke loose and smacked hard against the walls. Leaves and twigs flew up against the screens and in through the open doors. Water sprayed at them through the screens on three sides of the building.
And then, quiet. He melted against Raine in boneless relief. For a moment he felt nothing. Then guilt for disobeying Jake’s order rushed in like a mouth full of fluoride he couldn’t spit out. 
As everyone crawled out from under the tables, Jesse raised his fist in the air, the signal for silence. He bowed his head. “Thank You, we’re all safe. We don’t know what we’ll find out there, but right now, we’re grateful for life! Amen.”
“Amens” echoed around the room. Jesse raised his fist again. “Elementary cabins clean up the dining hall and porch, the gazebo and the grounds between here and there. Junior high cabins…” 
Drew glanced at Raine whose attention focused on Jesse. He scanned the room looking for Jake and spotted him moving through the doorway—probably to assess damage to his baby, the Smyrna Queen. He went after Jake. Best to get his apologies over as soon as possible.

#

In the split second of quiet after the wind left the dining hall, Raine felt Drew slump against her. He smelled like sweat and sea, and she realized somewhere along the way she’d become okay with sharing personal space with Drew. Then he was gone in the pandemonium of the kids climbing out of their cocoons.
As she scooted out from under the table, a hand reached out to her. She looked up. 
Cal stood looking down at her. “You okay?” 
She took the hand he offered. It felt thick and foreign, and she realized that this was the first time she’d held his hand. “Yeah. You?” She stood and he immediately let go. 
Wariness flashed through his eyes and was gone. “I’m good.” 
His gaze bore into hers, swirling with emotions that sucked her toward him. What was he thinking? Around them counselors shepherded their charges into groups. 
She cleared her throat. “Now you’re the one not saying five hundred words.”
“I—you’re beautiful, Raine.” He turned and threaded his way to the double doors and out onto the porch.

#

“Jake!” Drew shouted. Remorse rose in his throat. What an idiot he’d been.
Jake stopped at the sound of his name and turned around in the gazebo.
He jogged up to Jake. His breath came in short blasts as he peered at Jake’s furrowed brow, the dread in his eyes. “Everyone’s okay. But I need to talk to you.”
“Can’t this wait? I have to go see if the Queen made it through.”
“Jake, I got your note this morning about not taking the kids to the waterfront. But I took them anyway. I screwed up. I didn’t even turn on the radio.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I know you’re glued to the weather station twenty-four-seven. But I didn’t listen.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Man, I am so sorry.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
He looked at Jake. Shame and embarrassment curdled in his stomach. “Bubba left a healthy patch of skin on the asphalt. Stu kicked a rock; the end of his big toe split open and the nurse took him for stitches.” He hung his head.
“That it?”
He looked up. “Yeah.”
“Don’t let it happen again.” Jake’s face was granite as he stared at him. He turned and made a bee line for the parking lot leaving him to stew in his misery.

#

Aly swept the debris from the office steps with rhythmic strokes. The air had been washed clean by the water spout, and she felt a sense of wonder. How long had she felt this way about Cal and not realized it. 
The first time she’d met him was at Kallie and Jesse’s rehearsal dinner. She’d been in eighth grade, Cal in tenth, and she thought he was the hottest guy she’d ever seen. If he would have asked her out that first year, she would have gone. He’d flirted with her, stopped to see her occasionally, randomly called her, but he never asked her out. Cal had been cool, even then, too cool to ask a junior high girl out. Sweep. Sweep. Sweep.
By the time she got to high school, she was already going with Grant Fallon. But Cal was always around. Even after he graduated, seldom did a week go by that they didn’t get together or have a long conversation on the phone.
He’d painted her for his senior project. She couldn’t even remember who she’d been dating then, but a week straight of a moody Cal had almost put her over the edge.  There had been a funky tension in the room, and she’d wasted the week dreaming about kissing him. 
When Cal finished the portrait, he kissed her forehead, and she went back to whoever it was she was seeing—because she could never be alone. 
She stopped sweeping. And Cal had been into her that whole time. 
She swept the last step clean, twirling the broom in a graceful arc overhead. This time she’d tell Cal how she felt. 

Chapter 11

Raine stood back as Cal scraped the wooden teacher’s chair into place in the middle of her classroom. He motioned for her to sit down. Even though she spent hours in this room every day, the scent of turpentine and the fainter petroleum jelly smell of paint made it feel like Cal’s. 
His fingers gripped her shoulders, radiating warmth in every direction. He angled her into the sunset pouring through the open window. Placing her hands on the Bible in her lap, he stepped back to peer at her with the same intense look he’d worn since she walked in. He leaned toward her. The pads of his fingers pressed against her cheek moving her face a millimeter to the left. 
Cal walked to his easel, but his touch was still on her skin. Orange light trapped her like a spotlight. Cal’s gaze unnerved her. He focused on the canvas, and she let the air out of her lungs. She watched him dab his brush into brown then red, blending them on his pallet.
Jeremiah 24:7 lay open on her knees. She read the words, praying them for Cal. I will give them a heart to know me, that I am the Lord. They will be my people, and I will be their God, for they will return to me with all their heart. 
Shadows lengthened in the room. The clink of dishes being cleared away in the dining hall, shouts and the snap of a football on the athletic field drifted through the window. Somewhere, someone sang a folk song. Maybe it was Drew getting ready for the elementary kids’ campfire. She wished she was anywhere but pinned like a bug on a board by Cal’s gaze. 
Please, Lord, give Cal a heart to know You.
“Praying?” Cal’s quiet voice boomed in the room.
“Yeah.” 
“Why do you pray if God already knows?”
“Jesus told us to pray.” Raine shifted on the chair. “The ‘why’ doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.” 
“Really?” 
“Really.” Cal didn’t look up from the easel.
“I talk to God about the things I’m concerned about. He loves me and cares about what’s important to me.”
“If God is God, He’ll do what He wants no matter what you say.”
“He does what’s best for me.”
“You believe that?” Cal dipped his brush in paint the color of skin. 
“You don’t?”
“What do you do when God says, ‘no?’ ” 
Like not taking her crush away? “Endure. God uses our suffering to shape our character.” She looked at the thick cords of blond hair that brushed his shoulders, the sun-bleached brows that stood out against the tan of his skin. White hair curled on his muscular arms. She was going to have some kind of character after spending the summer fighting her feelings.
Cal looked up and caught her staring. Her eyes darted toward the window, her cheeks burning. When she looked back at Cal, she saw a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth and eyes. It reminded her of one she’d seen and dismissed earlier.
“Why are you quizzing me on prayer?”
“You think I have an ulterior motive?”
“You tell me.”
He sat on the table top behind him. “You were sitting there like you were afraid of your own skin. I wanted to paint your fire. Pretty much a no-brainer to get you going on a topic that lights your passion.” He shrugged and grinned at her.
Raine turned her face toward the bulletin board covered with crosses her elementary students had colored. Stupidity for having fallen for Cal’s manipulation warred against something entirely different. Cal saw something she didn’t see in herself—passion. 
A board creaked nearby, and Cal squatted down in front of her. His hand cupped her face. “You moved.” He brought her head back into position. His palm stayed on her cheek a heartbeat too long, his fingers trailing down to her chin almost in a caress before he broke the contact.
She met his steady gaze. “What button are you trying to push now?”
Cal stood. “The one that turns your cheeks pink like they were a few minutes ago.”
Cal wasn’t the only one who could manipulate. “Let’s talk about obeying God.”
“Talk about whatever you want. I’m going to work on your shirt now.”
She would think about convincing Cal to love God. She would not think about Cal squinting at the landscape of her blouse. She would not think about his smirk. She would not think about the breeze ruffling the hair on her arms and making her feel naked in the middle of the room. 
Cal chuckled. “That worked nicely.”
She ignored the heat creeping up her face. “God made rules to protect us. We obey Him out of gratitude, not because we have to.” 
“I’m not grateful. I want to do what I want to do. It burns my butt that everyone around me thinks I ought to be a mindless Christian robot.” Cal clapped his brush down on the easel. 
Maybe she was getting to him, too. “Remember “The Matrix” movie?”
Cal picked up his brush and rolled it in the yellow of her blouse.
“You can’t experience reality until you get surgically unplugged from the lies of the world.”
“I like my reality. I’m staying out of God’s way, and I’ll thank Him to stay out of mine.”
Okay, so Cal wasn’t exactly missionary material. Yet. But did that rule out his going to Africa—with her? People went to Africa for other reasons, didn’t they—why else did they build airports? Maybe part of Cal’s attraction was that he wasn’t committed to a career—he was available to go to Africa. Would Cal work for, say, a safari company? 
She watched Cal dab the brush against the canvas. “Ever think about going to Africa?” 
He looked up. “Not even on vacation.” 
The rest of the sunlight siphoned out of the room with her hope. Her heart hurt clear through to her ribs. She wanted to curl into a ball. 
Lord, please, I’m begging You, take this infatuation away.  
Why couldn’t Cal be sold out on God like Drew? What was she thinking? Drew drove her crazy with his teasing. 
A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and she brushed it away before Cal saw it.Cal stood and stretched. Keeping the back of the painting toward Raine, he picked up the canvas in one hand and the easel in the other. “I’ll let you see the painting when I’m done.” He stopped in front of her. “See, sitting for me wasn’t so bad.”  He walked out of the room.
Worse than what she’d expected. A thousand times worse. 

#

Aly stomped her foot down and watched the muddy water fly out from the sole of her sneaker. A cup and a half of satisfaction flung at her anger, not nearly enough to douse it, not even close. Her sister Kallie’s judgments scattered like holes in a sponge along the dirt road back to her cabin—she shouldn’t be having sex with Gar, she needed to break the pattern, she needed God. She splatted her right foot, then her left into neighboring puddles. 
Since when did Kallie become an expert on body language? And it was none of Kallie’s business who she slept with and whether she had the world’s crappiest taste in guys. Easy for Kallie—who never broke rules—to be religious. But she didn’t need God jamming His finger into her chest about her sins. 
Her jeans were wet to the knees now, and she was soaked to the bone with Kallie’s “I only want the best for you” speech.
The evening had been perfect, her and Jillian coloring on the living room floor while rain hammered against the cabin roof. She should have left as soon as Kallie came home. But she waited to be sure Jillian stuck in bed after six trips out for more kisses and drinks. 
She hefted each five-pound foot up the steps of her cabin, water squishing between her toes. 
Inside the cabin, she peeled off her clothes and put on dry sweats. There was one way to salvage this evening. She felt for the Altoid box in the back of her underwear drawer and headed for the laundry porch. Her flip flops slung wet sand on the backs of her pant legs.
She sat in the dark, rolling the joint in her fingers. There was something pathetic about smoking alone. Where was Gar when she needed to talk? He was a miserable excuse for a boyfriend. 
She heard the sound of footsteps and slid back into the shadows, curling in a ball against the laundry door. She realized how alone she was. She didn’t think straight when she was mad. 
Cal’s familiar blond head came around the corner. The air wooshed out of her lungs. “Cal, you scared me to death!”
“Whoa! Aly. What are you doing out here?”
“I got into it with Kallie and I came out here to smoke.” She opened her fist. “Want some?”
“Sure.” Cal took the joint out of her palm. He ran it under his nose while she dug a pack of matches out of her pocket. Cal struck the match and cupped his hands around the flame. 
She looked at the soft glow on Cal’s face as he sucked in deep drags. What if—
Cal stuck the reefer between her thumb and forefinger. His lips clamped together holding the smoke in his lungs.
She inhaled deeply, straining for the feeling that everything was going to be all right. 
They were quiet, zig-zagging the small cigarette between them until it singed her finger tips. “Mother of God!” She dropped the butt on the porch floor and ground it out with her flip flop. She shook her fingers in the air. She got burned every time she smoked. Good thing she didn’t smoke often.
She leaned back against the rough boards of the siding. “I unloaded on Kallie tonight.” She looked over at Cal. “Told her I was sick of her judging me.”
“Feel better?” His words came out slower than they usually did.
“I feel like scum.” She could still see Kallie sitting on the edge of the camp-vintage, plaid sofa with her eight-month pregnant belly resting in her lap. Hurt peered from her eyes.
“Apologize.”
“But I meant everything I said.”
“She was probably worried about you.” Cal tilted back the crate he was sitting on so he could lean against the wall.
“She’s my sister. I know her.” It irked her that Cal disagreed with her—that he might be right.
“Whatever. I was trying to help.”
They sat there in silence. Cal’s eyes drooped and closed. She sat on the floor beside him, her legs stretched out in front of her. She stared at the chip in the petal pink nail polish on her big toe.
“Where’s lover boy?”
She lifted her hand and let it drop on her lap. “Who knows? Who cares?” 
“I thought Gar was your boyfriend.”
“Then why is he never around when I need someone.” And you are. She floated above everything in a hot air balloon, looking down on her fight with Kallie, Gar flirting with a girl she couldn’t see—and it was fine, it was all fine. Nothing hurt. And Cal rode in the balloon basket with her, just her and Cal. Drifting. Together. She’d always been a little bit in love with Cal—
Cal laughed, or at least it was a mumbled, outburst that could have been a laugh.
“What?”
“I’m in love with Raine.”
The balloon hit an air pocket and she grabbed the porch floor to steady herself.
“I just realized it this minute.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh yeah. I’m sure.”
She didn’t like the candy corn sweetness of his smile. “Africa?”
“That’s a problem.” But he didn’t sound like it was a problem.
“God!” She raked her fingers through her hair. Why did things capsize the minute she thought about a decent guy?
“That’s another problem.”
“What are you going to do?”  
Cal shrugged and stared into the woods, the candy corn smile still branded to his face.

Chapter 12

Raine filled her lungs with warm, water-logged air. A hazy, duckling-yellow sun laid a ribbon from the horizon to where Drew sat a hundred yards down the beach. She walked toward him on the water slicked sand. His knees were drawn up, his face buried in his arms, no guitar in sight. 
“Morning.”
He lifted his head and looked at her with bloodshot eyes. “Hey.” His voice was as flat as the listless waves lapping at his feet.
She sat in the sand next to him and nudged his shoulder with hers. “What’s wrong? I’ve been here for thirty seconds and you haven’t called me ‘Rainey’ yet.”
He turned his head toward her, and she could see his soul swimming in ocean blue eyes. “I endangered thirty two lives yesterday by not doing what my boss told me to do.” His gaze settled on a white triangle of sail in the distance. “Why did I think I could make a better decision than Jake? He’s a sailor, a weather junkie. I don’t even read the weather in the paper.” He dropped his chin to his chest and stared at the sand between his feet. 
“No one was hurt.”
“Stu sliced his toe open on a rock—four stitches. Bubba has a strawberry the shape of Florida and almost as big.”
Raine scooted around to face Drew. “You’ve asked God’s forgiveness—”
“All night.”
She picked up Drew’s Bible from where it lay on the sand. It felt heavy and foreign in her hands. She thumbed through the thin pages littered with underlines and hand-written notes. Her finger stopped on the passage she was looking for.
“If you confess your sins to God, He is faithful and just to forgive your sins and cleanse you from all unrighteousness.” She closed the book, running her hand across the worn, brown leather, and set it back on the sand. “What does it mean?”
“God has forgiven all of my sins.” Drew said it in a monotone.
“Did He forgive you for refusing to submit to Jake?”
“That’s what I said.”  
She nudged his chin up with the back of her hand, forcing him to look at her. “It’s done. Faith is believing what God said in the Bible is true.” She dropped her knuckles from the stubble on his chin. 
“I believe it. I don’t feel it.”
“Your feelings will catch up. If the emotion was wiped out as soon as God forgave us, we’d go right back out and do the same thing again. Like I’m sure not drinking any more wine on camp property!”
Drew’s eyes widened. “You’re what?”
“Cal and Aly are on a mission to educate the missionary. I tasted Cal’s wine cooler—” She was embarrassed all over again. “God used it to help Aly see I mess up like she does, but I still regret it.”
Drew shook his head. “You’re full of surprises.”
Her gaze drifted down the beach littered with tree limbs and seaweed and trash displaced by the waterspout—not so different from the wreckage inside Drew. She looked back at him. “Let’s pray.”
Drew shrugged like he didn’t see the point.
She reached for his hand. He needed this. Lord, please comfort Drew. This was a hard lesson—
“Okay, God, I’m going to say it one more time, and then let it be. I’m sorry I didn’t obey the authority You placed over me. I see the result of my sin in the injuries, putting lives in danger. I get what You’re teaching me. May I be a better man because of it.”
“Pour Your grace over Drew. Match his feelings to the truth at the right time.”
“Amen.”
They stood and reached for each other at the same time, a natural period at the end of their conversation. She breathed in the scent of dryer sheets. Seconds passed and she relaxed her hold around Drew’s ribs, but his arms still wrapped tight around her shoulders. She stayed in the hug. His chin rested on the top of her head, warm sandpaper pressing into her scalp. Her cheek smashed against his solid chest. The thump of his heart seemed like her own. What if— No, this was Drew, who would be tormenting her as usual the next time she saw him.
He loosened his hold on her, then his arms fell away. His eyes held a hint of the Drew who called her Rainey. “Thanks.” He turned and walked off toward the jetty tossing her a wave over his head.
She watched him go feeling like she was seven and Eddie had ripped off the covers to wake her up—suddenly cold when she’d been snug and warm. She rubbed her arms and turned toward camp. 
What would it feel like to hold Drew’s morning-whiskered face in her palms?  It was a tactile curiosity. 

#

Drew struck off toward the jetty a hundred pounds lighter after Rainey surgically removed his guilt. She only said the truth, and it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. But sometimes you needed someone to say it. 
Thanks, Lord. He slurped up Rainey’s comfort in great gulps like he hadn’t had any in years—and maybe he hadn’t. What would it be like to have a friend like that in your life all the time? Had Sam been that kind of friend? He couldn’t remember. Maybe there hadn’t been any crises while they were dating. 
Rainey was God’s C-clamp, inching him toward marriage, with every twist of her wrist. And she didn’t have a clue. Maybe it was her family’s fault for assuming he and Rainey were dating. Maybe the prospect of holding her in his arms again was too enticing.
He knew what he had to do. He just didn’t want to do it. Track Sam down. Ask to meet. Find out once and for all whether she was willing to revisit their relationship. If she said yes, then God had told him to marry her, and he better give it all he had. If she said no, he’d have the closure he should have gotten years ago. 
For the first time he was more worried about Sam’s yes than her no.

#

A downpour sheeted against the classroom windows cutting Cal and Raine off from the world. He heard water running in the tin drainpipe on the corner of the building. The room was dark except for the shop light he’d clamped to his easel and the lamp bathing Raine in amber. 
He dipped his brush in the white smear of paint on his pallet and added faint smudges of light to her face. She was staring at the window behind him—praying, he was certain. There was an other-worldly glow about her. What if it was Raine’s spirituality that attracted him? But Raine had sexuality, too. Maybe one didn’t rule out the other.
He concentrated on her face, making sure he captured the freckles dusted across her nose and the tops of her cheeks—so tiny, most people wouldn’t know they were there. He moved the easel closer to Raine.  
The lashes that framed her eyes were lush, hiding the person he almost missed under the homeschool-Bible college banner. His mind flicked to Aly’s spare, pale lashes which hid nothing.
Forest green shaded with lime had worked for Raine’s eyes. He would add sparks of maize later. Now, he dotted pinpricks of white on her irises, the light that came from inside. What was it? Purity? He couldn’t label it, but he could paint it. 
“Painting Raine in the rain.” His voice felt rusty from not talking all evening.
Her eyes found his. “Cute.” She went back to staring at the water he could hear sluicing down the window behind him.
The rain beat down relentlessly. It didn’t sound like it would let up till morning. For a little while he would stretch a sheet across the future so he couldn’t see the impossibility of loving Raine—a girl with fire for God and Africa when he was a guy with fire for neither.  
His gut reached out to Raine, bonding with her in the silence—almost against his will. He wanted to touch her. 
Funny. He’d finally held Aly, something he’d wanted to do the first few years he knew her. The steam had gone out of the experience like a hot iron on a damp cloth. After the steam quit, you had to get out of there before you got scorched.
Would Aly laugh at him if she knew he was a virgin? It was probably Mom’s fault. The chastity pep talks she gave him with annoying regularity. She’d married Dad when she was eighteen. Why was he twenty-two and still buying her rhetoric? He was a carton of milk four years past expiration. But a guy didn’t have those kinds of thoughts about a girl like Raine—at least not ones that made him feel good about himself.
Her dark hair flipped up and away from her face. He wanted to get the Godiva dark chocolate color right, the strands of  black, and deep henna when the sun caught it. 
“Do you mind?” He reached for her hair and rubbed it between two fingers. Coarse, like corn silk. 
He stood and crossed the small space between them. “May I?” He splayed his fingers at her hairline around her face.
Her chin tilted up toward him, her eyes wide with questions he didn’t know the answers to.
He ran his fingers through her hair toward the nape of her neck. Part of his mind registered strands of her hair spooning together like couples at the beach. Other strands struck out alone, each with its own kinks and bends unique to itself. But mostly, he was caught by her full, dusty rose lips he’d taken such pains to translate into paint. They were slightly parted now as she sucked in a breath. Her cheeks filled with color, and he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to breathe. He cupped her face in his hands. He leaned closer and stopped, waiting to see if she was a girl with rules against kissing.
Raine eased her chin from his grasp and he let his hands fall, disappointment weighing him down like a chest full of medals he didn’t want to wear. He sat back on the edge of the table. The drum of the rain softened, moved on.
“You’re beautiful.” He let the air out of his lungs. “That’s the artist talking.” His eyes bored into hers. “And the man.”
Her color deepened. She looked down at her lap and back up at him. He reached out and stroked her cheek with knuckles. “Ever think about staying?”
Unshed tears sheened her eyes.
His hand dropped to his side “What are we going to do, Raine?” 
The lodge screen door banged and heavy footsteps came down the hall. Drew walked in reaching for the light switch. He stopped with his hand in the air. “Oh. I thought somebody left the light on.”
Drew glanced at him. His gaze traveled to Raine and stopped. Then, he looked at the painting that was facing the doorway. He could feel the seconds tick off while Drew stared at the portrait. Like someone reading over your shoulder, he didn’t want Drew looking at Raine’s painting—ever. But it was too late now.
Drew turned around without saying a word and left. His footfalls moved down the hall, then nothing, not even the banging of the screen door against the door jam.
The sound of the rain stopped and, with it, the sense of intimacy. 
Raine stood and stretched. “Let’s clean your brushes.” 

#

As Cal put the last of his brushes and paints into the cupboard in his classroom, Raine stared hard at the back side of her portrait. Cal said this was the last sitting he needed, and she could see the painting next week. If she didn’t die of suspense first. And what was she going to do about that almost-kiss?
She heard a tapping on the window and looked toward the sound. Eddie. Cold fingers of fear slithered across her shoulders, down her arms, clamping like a vice around her chest, making her breath come in short gusts.  She could feel the blood draining from her face. Her fists clenched at her sides.
Cal came up behind her and hefted the window. “Hey man. Long time no see.” 
“Dude.” They slapped hands.
Raine’s mouth dropped open. Her thoughts scrambled and tumbled over each other to get out. They knew each other? Eddie was on camp property. What did he want?
“Hey, sis.”
It was Cal’s turn to be shocked. “No way!” His tone said her real estate had gone up fifty thousand dollars. Imagine, someone thought being related to Eddie was a plus. 
Cal leaned against her teacher’s desk. “So, where are you hitting the waves these days?”
As the minutes ticked by, their surf talk lulled her fear. Now she only heard a string of words—pipeline, curl, inlet, swell—punctuated by rad and über.
She drifted to Cal’s almost kiss. How much longer could she resist him, now that he had feelings for her? Lord? God forgive her, but she’d wanted to kiss Cal with every fiber of her being. But now, she was oddly relieved that she hadn’t. 
She sighed, and they glanced at her and returned to their conversation.
What was nagging her about Cal and Eddie turning up best buds? Eddie all but hated Drew on sight. Drew was the, “One of these things is not like the other ones,” in the Sesame Street ditty. Cal and Eddie were both surfers, but it was deeper than that. How?
The darkness Eddie always left in his wake hovered over her. She shivered. How had he found her? She’d been so careful not to tell him where she was working this summer. What if Eddie decided to lurk around camp?
Cal stood. “Later, man.” He turned to her and gave her a long look. She knew he was thinking about the kiss they almost shared. 
She looked away, her face heating.
“See you, Raine.” He walked out the door.
Raine looked at Eddie sitting on the window sill like he was ready to hop out at any moment. He wasn’t afraid of her. He’d proven that all too well the night he gave her the scar. No, he was afraid of being caught—for what she didn’t want to know.
She glanced at the classroom door, an old habit—knowing the way out. “After you almost got shot, you said maybe to Teen Challenge—”
Eddie cracked his knuckles, scratched a sore on his arm, stood up, blinked. “Things have calmed down. Look, I said September First. But I need a little cash to get by.”
“Of course you do.” Disgust laced her voice. She crossed her arms and stared hard at him. “When are you going to man-up and take care of yourself?” 
She pulled the ten dollar bill out of her back pocket she’d meant to buy a staff T-shirt with earlier. She tossed it on the table. “It’s all I have.” On me. “And don’t ask for more.” 
She stood. “Someday, are you going to ask how I am?” She stalked out of the room without looking back. For once anger beat out fear.

#

Raine watched Drew strum his guitar in the firelight. His voice soared over the others as he led the teens in worship. This was the first time Drew had taken over campfire for Jesse. Raine was having trouble staying with the song. She kept remembering junior high, how she and her friends had fallen in love with Drew when he was worshipping. 
His voice had matured since he was a teenager. Confidence had replaced his tentative guitar playing. Drew was a man who was comfortable with himself and with God. Raine shook her head to clear it. She shifted so the girl in front of her blocked her view of Drew. “God, You are so beautiful to me,” she sang with the others.
The last song quieted, and Drew read from Jeremiah twenty-nine. His voice washed over her. “God made you for a specific purpose that He’ll show you. He has a good plan for you. Trust Him. It’s a myth that if you submit to God He’ll send you to Africa—unless you’re Rainey. And she wants to go!” The kids laughed.
Now the entire camp was going to call her Rainey. Good thing she was moving to Africa.
Inside, she felt like she did when Eddie made a soccer goal when they were kids—proud to be associated with Drew. Something had changed after she comforted him.
A reflection of firelight caught her eye and she turned her head. Cal. Yellow light played on his loose hair that had fallen in his face when he bowed his head for Drew’s prayer. Cal was at campfire for the first time all summer. He was praying. Which was more than she seemed capable of doing at the moment.
The prayer ended. Cal looked up at her. All around them kids stood and stretched. Chatter sputtered, then swelled around the campfire.
She crossed the sand to where he stood. “What are you doing here?” A girl with a hank of pink hair jostled between her and Cal. 
Drew caught her eye. She wanted to tell him she was proud of him, but Cal signaled her to come with him.

#

The play of firelight on Raine’s skin distracted Cal from her question. Why did he come to campfire? She waited for his answer.
“What? Can’t a guy hook up with God?” 
Her dark brows shot up another quarter of an inch.
“Yeah.” He’d wanted to impress Raine, but once he got here, the cadence of the waves crashing and ebbing behind the music lulled him into détente with God. Somehow he didn’t think that would be enough for Raine.
They hiked up the beach to the seawall. “What did you think about the story Drew told about the father who got a great deal on a red bike, then dropped hints till his son was convinced he wanted a red bike for Christmas?” Cal wasn’t buying an idea that came from a guy who ogled his painting of Raine.
Raine stepped onto the seawall. “God gives us the ‘want to’ to do His will.”
Divine manipulation. Cal sat down on the bench that faced the ocean. He wasn’t getting into an argument with her tonight.
Raine sat at the other end of the short bench. “By lights out, we’ll be married on the camp grapevine.” She glanced toward the giggling girls streaming past them. 
He shot a wicked smile at her. “That’s a bad thing?” 
Raine opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. “Seriously, I want you to know I’m working on getting my spiritual house in order.”
Her face whipped toward him. “That’s good.” She seemed to be choosing her words. “What inspired you?”
“Actually, you did.” 
“Me?” 
“You’re living the life, Raine. I told you, you’re a good missionary.”
Raine looked into his eyes in the starlight like she was trying to read his mind. “Is this about last time I sat for you—the night it rained?”
“Is it a crime if I care about you?” He reached for her hand. It was warm and small in his. He rubbed his thumb across the veins in the back of her hand. Just this touch was setting off a chain reaction in his body.
Raine eased her hand out of his. “I can’t do this, even if I’d like to.”
His fingertips still touched the back of her hand. “Why not?”
“There are more things keeping us apart than pushing us together.”
“Such as?”
“Let’s walk away from it.”
“It’s too late for me to walk away.” He leaned toward her, his fingers brushing the milky skin at her wrist. “I know you care about me. I saw it in your eyes the other night. Geez, Raine, you read Sacred Hoops when you don’t like basketball.”
“Even if you get everything worked out between you and God, I’m still going to Africa. I’m ready to start my life, and…” 
The pads of his fingers jerked from her skin like he’d been stung by a bug zapper. He could fill in what she didn’t say—that he didn’t know what he wanted to be when he grew up. All he wanted was the freedom to dream his own dreams for his life, not God’s or his parents’.  
Raine held her palm up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you by saying that. We’re in different places in our lives. What’s wrong with continuing on as friends?”
Cal blew out his breath. “Friendship is not what I feel for you.” 
“Cal—I like you—”
“And I like you. What’s wrong with going with it?”
“We’re not heading in the same direction.”
“I’m not talking about a white dress and a baby stroller. I’m talking about holding hands and taking a walk on the beach.
“Which can lead—”
“Why do we have to plan our whole lives out this minute? Can’t you chill? Enjoy the moment?”
Raine shook her head. “I can’t do it.” The words wrung out of her in a whisper.
“Do I have any choice?”
Raine gave the slightest shake of her head.

Chapter 13

Drew glanced across the last sputtering embers at Rainey and Cal sitting on the bench on the seawall as Jesse jogged toward him.
“Hey, you’re supposed to be celebrating your anniversary with your wife tonight.”
“Yeah, but she’d have to be awake for that, right?” Jesse’s tone was wry. “I’m headed for Flagler Avenue, then over the North Causeway.”
Jesse sprinted past him. He caught up and matched Jesse’s stride. They sprinted up the Flagler ramp past the hamburger and beer scent of the Breakers. Jesse wasn’t talking tonight. Fine with him. Drew had been grumpy all week—ever since he’d walked in on Cal painting Rainey. They ran past Atlantis Bistro and Gnarly Surf Bar and Grill.  
Rainey’s portrait had laser-printed to his brain. Gold light washed Rainey’s face, deepening to burnt orange at the edges.  Her mouth was open as though she were talking. She leaned forward over a Bible that lay open in her lap. Cal had captured her passion for teaching the Bible, the spiritual light in her eyes. Even he could see Cal’s brilliance on the canvas—down to the intricate detail in the beaded rawhide bracelet Rainey always wore. 
But the thing that bugged him about the painting was the sensual quality. Most people wouldn’t notice. Maybe he imagined it. Her flowered blouse gaped slightly at the neck, and there was something about the lay of the fabric across her breasts that bothered him. Maybe he plain didn’t like the fact that Cal had stared at her body for long stretches of time.  
They ran three-quarter speed over the bridge spanning the Intercoastal and stopped in Buena Vista Park. Winded, he bent at the waist, hands on knees, and sucked air into his lungs.
Jesse, backdropped by the choppy river, sluiced sweat from his face. “Did you see Cal and Raine on the seawall?”
Drew nodded.
“Cool, huh?”
Not cool. Very not cool. He didn’t know if he was the man for Rainey, but he knew it wasn’t Cal. That much he knew.
Jesse jogged in place. “A girl like Raine could do a world of good for Cal.”
“Right.” Drew rifled a rock into the water. A pelican sitting on a piling squawked. If Rainey fell for Cal, Drew wasn’t going to get a shot at her. “Let’s go.” He sprinted out of the park.
He’d run the edge off his anger. So, how about giving me a green light to go after Rainey? If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he’d always wanted to get married. He’d just refused to think about it since Sam. 
As they headed back over the bridge toward Riverside Charlie’s, his mind drifted to his personal marriage cautionary tale: Meg Stanley. She directed Spring Break Bible Camp like a punctured balloon kamikazeing around the gym. One stint as her assistant had left him with whiplash and a vat of pity for Meg’s husband. What did it feel like to wake up next to Meg’s sleep-swollen face and the cobbled-together gel-packs of her body. Surely, Meg had been less lumpy and domineering ten years ago when Greg Stanley married her. But Geez Louise, he was glad it wasn’t him.
If God was protecting him from Greg Stanley’s fate, so be it. But it was impossible to imagine Raine morphing into that. He was going to trust God with choosing his wife. This was one decision he didn’t want to screw up. If God was testing him to see if he’d learned to submit to authority since the waterspout fiasco, he had. 
No way was Cal going to Africa. What if— “Would God dangle a carrot to entice me to Africa?”
Jesse grinned over at him. “What kind of carrot?”
“Hypothetical.”
“Seems to me like God’s all about making you lay down your life. Not about carrots.”
“Could you sugar coat it once, Jess?”
“He’s not going to hide what He wants you to do. It must not be the right time to fill you in yet. Go ahead and apply for the music director position. See what happens.” 
They were passing the florescent light of The Beacon restaurant when he remembered a detail from the night he walked in on Cal painting Rainey. A dab of yellow paint on Rainey’s cheek the color of her blouse in the painting. Cal’s hand had been on her face. Passing the test just got a whole lot harder.

#

Raine stared at the springs in Aly’s bunk overhead. Soft white light filtered through the screen, casting swaying hibiscus shadows on the wall across from her. Cal cared about her. The heavy air weighed down on her, a moist blanket she couldn’t shake. What was she going to do?
Aly moved in her sleep, the bed creaked. 
Lord, please help Cal connect with You. It was a selfish prayer. If Cal fully hooked into God, maybe God would tell him to go to Africa. Or Cal could derail her from Africa altogether if she let herself care for him in his present state. When Jesus was tempted, at least He knew it was Satan. With Cal, everything was so murky. Give me strength to walk through this.  She wanted to honor Him with every step.
She pulled her quilt over her head, breathed in the scent of sunshine, and slept.

#

Cal bobbed in the waves on his board as claret sun seeped into the wispy pines. The red bled across the water till he was suffused in color. Like his feelings for Raine, he hadn’t had a choice. Raine happened to him. And last night she turned him down cold.
His gaze caught on Drew body surfing a wave toward shore. Not bad. 
Raine was about principles. She could be flat out in love with him and it wouldn’t matter. She was going to Africa. And she’d go with a spiritual man or no man. 
Drew stood and marched back into the surf. The wave had dumped him opposite Cal, and now he swam toward him.
The softness of Raine’s skin, the hardness of her convictions, warred in his mind. Her hair was corn silk slipping through his fingers, but Africa meant dirt and poverty. He wanted to touch her, but the price was giving up his life to God. 
Drew righted himself in the chest high water. “Hey. Awesome on the last wave you rode.”
“Not bad yourself.”
Drew cracked a wry smile. “Like I could stand on a board.”
Drew wore humility well. He could almost forgive the guy for looking at Raine’s portrait –devouring it—before it was completed. Almost.
They rolled with the sea, he on his board and Drew standing, then floating when a wave pushed through. They gazed toward land, and the halo of sunlight turned salmon and seeped though the trees. 
The beauty seemed almost holy. He glanced at Drew, whose mouth had parted, his eyes riveted on the tree line. Maybe there was some common ground between them, at least in this dying sky.
He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “I do a lot of thinking out here…” His voice cut through the silence, breaking open the turmoil that had been cooking toward a boil all day. “I’ve always despised people who bargain with God. Seems to me like you should go to God when you’re up on the wave, not when you’re churning in the undertow.”
Drew treaded water in a swell of water. “Depends on what the bargain is.”
“If you were God and somebody said, ‘You give me the girl, You’ve got me,’ what would you do?” 
Drew was quiet so long, he looked down at him to see if he was going to answer.
“Maybe you have it backwards. Give God control of your life, then let Him decide whether you get the girl.”
“Risky. Maybe you’d never get the girl, and you be stuck a no-name preacher like Jesse. He could have made it big with his band, you know. And my old man pastors a church. He’s got sixty-five bosses, none of them happy.”
“Are Jesse and your dad satisfied with their lives?”
He’d never thought about it. But, yeah, they liked their lives alright. He grinned at Drew. “They got the girls.”
Drew laughed. He looked at his watch in the pale rose light. “I gotta run. Elementary campfire. Later.” 
“Later.”
Cal watched Drew’s powerful strokes and the push of the waves move him toward shore. Maybe Drew didn’t mind, but he sure wasn’t living Jesse’s or his dad’s life. He made it sound like he questioned God’s existence or His sticking his fingers in people’s lives. But, yeah, he believed. He just didn’t want controlled. By anyone.
 He was a sea gull chick who had cracked open its shell, but hadn’t shimmied out yet—of Mom’s control, God’s. Would marrying Raine be like gluing the shell back together before he’d experienced life outside?  How close could he skate to giving in to God without actually doing it?  
Man, he was already thinking marriage. How did he get here? Raine was the kind of girl you had to marry to touch. Anybody could tell you that. How could waking up in bed with Raine for the rest of his life be a bad thing? And, hey, she would validate his virginity—a parking stub stamped at Pac Sun.
He was going to have to suck it up if he wanted Raine. She would see through bogus religiosity in zero to five seconds.  
The sky cooled to magenta as he caught a curl. He lay on his stomach, paddling for all he was worth. Up! His feet welded to the wax on his board. The dregs of the day reflected off the water slicked fiberglass. He tasted salt on his teeth. The wave held all the way to shore. “Sweet! Nice job,” he shouted at the heavens. Well, that was a start. 
He ripped open the Velcro ankle band, hefted the board onto his shoulder, and waded through the mush that had been his wave. “And a pretty dang good job on Raine.”
All of a sudden, he remembered something Raine said. That sunset was God’s kiss. The wave was a gift. Well, check that out. Maybe they were moving past détente.

#

Drew spat the saltwater out of his mouth as he jogged from the surf. Cal was in love with Rainey. The realization he’d been resisting ever since he saw Rainey’s portrait hit him full force. 
Cal didn’t share Rainey’s commitment to God, but that could change. Maybe it was changing right now. He grabbed his towel off the sand and rubbed his head dry. He didn’t need this right before he had to be spiritually “on” to lead worship at elementary campfire. 
He didn’t want to pray for Cal to connect with God. Weren’t Jesse and the rest of Cal’s family taking care of that job? But they hadn’t heard Cal’s questions. Sometimes God asked too much.
He dropped to his knees in the soft sand. Use my words to convince Cal to let You run him. Not what I want, but what You want. He got up and walked toward the circle of light around the campfire.

#

Raine watched Drew unlatch his guitar case. He sat on a log in the sand and tuned the guitar. Sand clung to his knees. The campfire crackled in the deep end of the day. 
Raine squeezed her arms across her stomach trying to quell the nervousness. Her eyes flicked to the note card in her hand. She wasn’t used to talking to a group as large as the elementary campfire would be. 
“Rainey!”
Her head jerked up and she realized this wasn’t the first time Drew had called her name.
“Come pray.” He patted the log beside him. She sat down, and he held out his hand to her.
She looked at the lines in his palm and grasped his hand tightly.
Drew eyed her. “You’re nervous.”
“A little.” That was a gross understatement.
“Right.” He bowed his head. “Lord, help Rainey to relax. Use us both. We surrender our minds, bodies, spirits to You for the job that lies ahead.”
“Lord, keep me aware my confidence is in You and not in my ability to tell the story well. We love You. Thank You for giving us this chance to work for You.” She squeezed Drew’s hand and looked into his eyes. “Do you always pray, or was that just for me?”
“What do you think?” 
He was grinning so wide and holding on to her hand—she scrambled around to remember what they were talking about. “That you pray.”
He relaxed his grip. “Sometimes I forget. You should help me every night with campfire, then I wouldn’t forget.”
“We’ll talk—afterward—if  I live through this.”
The campers hopped over the seawall like popping corn, their counselors futilely trying to keep them corralled. Missy waved a big two-armed wave as she stepped onto the sand. Raine took a seat away from Drew so she could watch him sing and play. She didn’t want to think too much about why that was such a treat. 
The children squirmed and flopped on the sand. Drew strummed his guitar. The kids took this as an invitation to shout out song requests. “Rolling Over the Billows!” “Granny’s in the Cellar!” “The Watermelon song!” “I Don’t Know Why She Swallowed a Fly!”
Drew stood and launched into, “Fish heads, fish heads, rolly-polly fish heads. Fish heads, fish heads, eat ‘em up. Yum!” 
She sat with her chin in her hands watching Drew. There’s a guy who knows how to have fun. Drew paced back and forth between the fire and the children. The kids shouted the words along with Drew. “I took a fish head out to a restaurant. He didn’t eat much, so I ate him! Fish heads, fish heads, rolly-polly fish heads. Fish heads, fish heads, eat ‘em up. Yum!”
Six verses later, Drew shifted into “Sipping Cider,” obviously another of the kids’ favorites. She was beginning to see Drew’s tactic—wear the kids out so they would listen quietly to the Bible story. At least this song was more singing than shouting. She would have loved camp if she’d gone as a kid. Sadness buzzed her head and she shooed it away. Well, here she was. Not too late to enjoy it.
The song wound down. Drew sang, “And they sipped cider lip to lip.” His eyes found her. She blushed as the kids warbled the line a second time. 
Drew grinned at her for a split second before he swung away and belted, “Give me wax for my board, keep me surfin’ for the Lord. Give me wax on my board, I pray. Halleluiah!”
Was he flirting with her? She shook her head. It was just Drew teasing her as usual. Her gaze drifted to the ocean. That had to be Cal paddling hard to catch a wave. Orange light lit his hair. He was up now, riding the hollow of the arc with his arms stretched out for balance. The wave churned behind him as though it were chasing him. Cal curved the board into the waning wave and disappeared into the curl.
Drew eased the kids into worship songs, and finally, quiet. “Lord, talk to us through Rainey. Amen.” 
She warmed as though Drew had trained a car lot searchlight on her.
“Kids,” Drew set his guitar into its case, “I know you guys all like Rainey. Listen carefully because she’s not as loud as I am!” He was doing everything he could to make this easy for her.
In a blink she was into the story—one she’d known by heart at their age. This was what she loved to do. At the end, she asked, “Tell me what you got out of the story.”
“God loves sheep!” an older boy with a bandana tied around his forehead said. A few snickers followed.
“God loves me—very much,” A little blond girl in pigtails said.
A girl in the back added, “Even when I do wrong things.”
Drew stood up when the kids began to repeat each other. “Is there anything you want to say to God after hearing the story? You can come up, and Rainey or I will pray with you.” Drew strummed quietly and the children’s voices floated up with the sparks from the campfire.
The last of the children knotted around the fire, tossing in pinecones and watching them sputter and pop. Their counselors snaked them back toward camp along the street. 
Drew added a log to the fire. Her gaze traveled back to where she’d last seen Cal surfing. He perched on his board between the surf and the fire, the moon illumining his shirtless shoulders. How much of the story had he heard? What went through his head? 

#

The elementary kids clustered around the campfire. Like every other evening Cal surfed, Drew sung and played his guitar. His gaze tripped over Raine. This was the first time he’d seen her at Drew’s campfire. He stopped paddling and sat up on his board. 
Raine stood. Her mouth moved, but he was too far away to hear.
He grabbed his board and jogged out of the surf.
“I always picture the sheep who wanders off as a black sheep,” Raine was saying, “You know, the cowlick in the flock of a hundred sheep. He’s the sheep who doesn’t like to follow directions, learns everything the hard way.”
He turned his board fin-up and sat on it. Mom had always called him her little sheep when he was a kid because of his curly hair. And he was the family black sheep. He wondered if Raine was thinking of him while she told the story. Had she pegged him as a guy who learned everything the hard way? Cal shook his head, flinging water droplets onto his skin and board.
“The protector of the sheep leaves the sheep in a safe spot and goes looking for the ornery sheep. He will keep looking until he finds him. Do you know why? Because he loves that black sheep with his whole heart. You can tell because he carries him home on his shoulders and throws a party to celebrate finding him.”
He lay back on his board watching a sliver of moon creep up over the line where water met sky. God loved him the way he was—someone who submitted poorly, with an affection for intoxicants. He’d heard that story a hundred times and never applied it to himself. 
The sky deepened to navy, layered with indigo; a faint fuchsia ribbon hovered above the trees. Stars debuted over the ocean one by one. And Cal again felt the caress of God. 
Childhood Bible verses broke loose like driftwood that had been caught in a logger jam. First, This is love; not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Then, But because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And, God is love.
Any doubt the sunset had been God’s communication with him ebbed away with the verses. God loved him. Truth seared to his core. A snippet from a song the kids were singing wrapped around him. “Into the marvelous light I’m running, away from darkness and shame…” 
He couldn’t wait to tell Raine.

Chapter 14

Cal hung back in the dark away from the campfire. The last cabin of elementary kids scooted over the seawall to head for camp. Raine stood beside the fire talking and waving her arms while Drew added another log to the fire. Kallie and Jillian, the first arrivals for the teen campfire, inched toward the circle of firelight.  
Maybe he should walk over and tell them about his encounter with God, but it felt like spun glass inside him—fragile and hard to put into words. He didn’t want to do anything to disturb what had happened. He’d catch Raine later, when she was alone.

#

Aly closed her eyes. The pain in her ankle throbbed with the pulsing chirp of the crickets. She repositioned the plastic Zip-loc of ice. Yellow light glared from the dining hall porch. She picked loose a chip of white paint off the gazebo bench with her fingernail trying to focus on something other than pain.
Who was walking up the road from the beach? “Cal! Over here.” It hurt to yell.
He walked over. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?”
“I wrenched my ankle playing Capture the Flag with the teens. Jesse went to get the van to take me to emergency.”
Cal sat down and squinted at her foot. “Oh man, Aly, how did you do it?”
“Tripped over a wire the landscapers—probably Gar—put up to protect some plantings.” She held her hand up to stop Cal’s question. “Do I ever know where he is?”
“Why don’t you break up with him?”
“Yeah, that would be something new—me breaking up with a guy.”
Headlights shone on the dirt road, then Jesse wheeled the camp van around in front of the dining hall to get as close to the gazebo as possible.
“Cal!” Jesse jumped out. “I’m supposed to be at campfire. Can you run Aly to ER?”
“You got it.” Cal positioned one shoulder under her arm and eased her to a standing position.
“Thanks, bro.” Jesse supported her on her other side. “Check to see if her mom is working tonight.”
She gritted her teeth. “Hello! Guys, can we get moving? I’m dying here.” She put all her weight on Jesse and Cal while she swung her good foot forward. “Nice of you two to be close to the same height,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Anything for you, Al.” In the yellow light from the dining hall porch, Cal grinned inches from her face, a shot of anesthesia. But by the time Cal pulled into the emergency room breezeway, tears ran down her face. “Hurts,” she said when Cal opened her door.
“I’m sorry, kiddo.” Cal kissed her eyebrow and took off at a run toward the electronic doors.
Two hours later, after her mother had come downstairs from intensive care and fussed over her, the ankle had been declared badly sprained, and she had been plied with pain meds stronger than Cal’s smile, she bumped along in the camp van. 
She woke with a start as the truck came to a stop. The pain had blessedly gone and she felt fuzzy-brained. Cal opened the door, pulled her arm around his neck, and picked her up. 
“Put me down.” The words sounded funny. She wanted to tell him to take her back to camp, not her house.
“No.”
No? 
Cal set her carefully on the edge of her bed in the dim light coming in from the hall. Had she told him which room was hers? She couldn’t remember. She pulled down the covers and lay back on her pillow pulling her hair up so she could feel the cool of the pillowcase against her neck. Cal came in with an ice bag and extra pillows he layered under her foot. Her eyes slid shut as she looked at her ankle wrapped like a piñata. 
“You okay? Need anything?”
“You.” Her eyes slid shut and Cal’s chuckle fell on her like gardenia petals. She grabbed for his arm. “Thanks—for being here for me.” Cal was so solid—and warm. She didn’t want to let go.

#

Still caught in the sync of working together during the campfire, Raine and Drew turned toward the moon-washed beach instead of the road toward camp. This is what ministry in Africa would be like. Maybe with someone like Drew or several people who worked seamlessly as a team the way she and Drew had tonight. Thank You, Jesus.
Drew sprawled in the sand under the night shade of a pine.
Tonight, laughter bubbled up in her, unquenched by Eddie. She sat cross-legged in the cool sand while the moon dappled her, shining through the swaying pine branches. “The whole camp is calling me Rainey.”
Even in the shadow of the tree, she could see Drew’s grin.
“You’re not sorry!”
“I’ve always called you Rainey. I think about you as Rainey.”
It was time to turn the teasing back on Drew.  “You think about me, huh?” 
“As in, ‘Rainey sure doesn’t have the gift of celibacy—’”
Raine swiped at him. 
“Hey!” Drew jerked out of her reach. “I remember your right hook.”
“I think you have the gift of celibacy.”
“Hope not!”
“Then, who are you going to marry?” She leaned toward him, trying to see his expression in the shadows. “You’re, like, old and decrepit.” Wow, was that a lie!
“At twenty-five?”
“What’s her name?” He wasn’t dating anyone. He would have mentioned her by now or brought her to camp.
“Sam.”
“Sam? Now you’re gay?”
Drew gave a long-suffering sigh and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He flipped it open to Samantha’s picture.
Raine slid the dog-eared photo out of its plastic sleeve and held it up to the moonlight. She stared at what must have been the girl’s high school senior picture. Sam had long, honey-colored hair and wide, intelligent eyes. “You’re dating someone?”
Drew heaved in a sigh and let it go. His face turned toward the saw-grass waving on the dunes nearby. “Freshman year of college I fell in love with Sam. After a semester, she thought she was too young to settle on one guy. But by that time, I was in too deep to swim out.” His face turned toward her, but his eyes were shaded by the pine. “I always thought we would have gotten back together if she hadn’t transferred to Flagler College soph year.”
“She’s still single?”
“As of last week on Facebook.”
“So, try again.”
His shoulders shrugged and relaxed. “Who wants to get shot down twice?” He stood and headed toward the seawall.
“You’ll be celibate talking like that! Surely she’s grown up by now. Wouldn’t it be worth the risk?” She trailed after him, her words clanging in her head like discordant notes. “Tell me about her. She’s beautiful—”
“She’s history.”
“Someone else, then?” Her voice came out like a squeak.
Drew took a big step onto the seawall and turned to offer her a hand. “There’s this girl with great biceps and cute toes.” He whisked her onto the wall.
Face to face, she saw something warm mixing with the laughter in his eyes—something she wanted to fall into. But she felt herself tugging her hand out of his grasp. “Honestly, Drew! Just when I think I’m getting used to your teasing, you amp it up a notch.” 
The look melted from his face with his smile. The breeze cooled, and they started down the road. 
“Hey, I found some verses that talk about whether or not you have to obey your dad.”
“And?”
“Ephesians Six and Colossians Three both say, ‘Children obey your parents.’ Since you’re not a child, you could go to Africa on those verses. But there are a couple of verses in Proverbs—”
“Yeah, I found them, too. ‘Listen to your father,’ and ‘Keep your father’s commands.’ Raine brushed away hair that had fallen in her eyes. “I guess I could listen to Dad and not obey him. But keeping his commands is pretty explicit—and there’s no age limit.”
Drew walked between her and the New Smyrna Beach Surf and Sailing Camp sign. “Lord, I know Rainey has set her heart to do what You want her to do, even if it means not buying that ticket until she has her father’s blessing. Show her what you want her to do—”
“Can I ask you a question?” She stopped in front of the dining hall and faced Drew. “Why, after seven years, are you still carrying Sam’s picture? Why have you checked her Facebook within the past week? I thought I’d marry Jud at one point, but I hardly think of him anymore.”
Drew went still.
Had she overstepped their friendship? Did she have a right to know why Drew was still in love with Sam? 
Drew kicked a rock into the grass growing in tufts around the building.
She should say he didn’t have to tell her, that her curiosity had gotten her in trouble more than once. But she clamped her teeth together and waited. She wanted to know. If Drew was in love with Sam, what did that look he gave her on the seawall mean? She knew him as a friend. Could you be in love with one woman for years and flirt with others? She needed to know.

#

Drew blew out a breath. “It’s a long story.” He’d already told Rainey more than he wanted about Sam. Now she was gunning for full disclosure. “Another time.”
“Now.”
His head jerked up, and annoyance buzzed through him. “Bossy.”
Rainey stared him down, hands planted on her hips.
“Since when is my life your business?”
Hurt flashed through her eyes. “Since I thought we were friends.” Her shoulders drooped, but she didn’t move.
He didn’t want to unearth something he’d buried for six years. He could almost feel the cadaver of pain resurrect in his chest.
Her eyes pleaded with him.
He’d asked for a peer friend, and he knew that friend was Rainey.
Her shoulders slumped, and she turned away.
His hand reached out and closed around her wrist. He didn’t want her to leave. He blew the air out of his lungs. Maybe finally telling someone the whole story would move him down the road. “All right. I give up.” He let go of her and sunk down on the dining hall steps. Rainey scooted onto the step beside him.
He rubbed his face with his hands. So much energy over the years had gone into trying not to remember, he felt like he had to brush dead leaves and sand off the manhole cover before he could excavate. 
“We met at freshman orientation at Daytona State College. Samantha was sitting in the row in front of me in the auditorium. The sparkle of her earring kept flashing at the corner of my vision. After a while, I just watched the refraction of light when she moved. She had this stick straight hair in a pony tail, but curls had escaped at the nape of her neck. I was intrigued. What did she look like?  I imagined everything from Miss Piggy to Hillary Duff. After two hours of speculation, the session broke up. I scrambled after her, afraid I’d never see her face.”
Raine folded her arms over her knees and waited. 
He took a deep breath and crawled the rest of the way into the manhole of his past.
“Hey, I’m Drew Martin. Sitting behind you.”
The girl turned gray-green eyes on him, appraising. After a moment her lips turned up at the corners. “Samantha.”  
Whoa. 
Drew made himself quit staring. “Man, was that session a snoozer or what? Want to help me find the closest source of caffeine?”
“Sure.” She had a clean look, like a girl in a soap commercial, a lean, athlete’s build, and thick brown eye lashes that didn’t need makeup.  
They talked through the next orientation session and the one after that, and by the end of the first week of school they were going together. 
One day, half way between midterms and finals, he walked toward Sam. Her head bent over her medieval history book, a four hundred level class she’d gotten into as a fluke when all the sections of freshman history were filled. She sat on top of a picnic table beside the creek, one long, blue-jeaned leg draped over the other, her DSC sweatshirt pushed up to her elbows. 
His love for Sam seemed to always have been there, waking slowly like a Saturday morning creeping toward noon.
As he walked toward her, winter sun poured through a window in the clouds like a divine finger pointing to Sam. He didn’t hear the words, but sensed God saying, “She’s the one.” He could almost see flecks of dust in the light. He stopped and stood watching her. 
The clouds moved by, casting her in shadow again. She pulled her sleeves down, scratched her nose, and kept reading. She lived in fear of flunking the class, but so far she had a solid B. He was good for her. She was all about grades and training and scoring points on the volleyball court. But life was to be lived and enjoyed, sometimes laughed at. 
He crossed the rest of the way to her. When she looked up, he smiled into her eyes. He leaned over her history book and kissed her. Well. She tasted of banana and surprise. 
“I love you, Sam.”
Her eyes rounded. He could almost read her fumbling for a response. He put a finger to her lips. 
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.” He could wait. He was at peace. God had spoken to him. 
By New Year’s Sam still hadn’t told him she loved him. But he wasn’t concerned. They were only freshmen; they had their whole lives together. After a Saturday morning concert at Christmas Park, they walked over to the New Smyrna Beach city marina and dangled their feet off the end of the dock. 
The sun had baked the boards warm where they sat thigh to thigh. They swung their legs back and forth over the water. Drew had grown up fishing with a hand-held line off the small cement bridge they faced. The light changed at Washington and Riverside Drive, freeing the crawl of cars across the bridge.
Sam stared at her white Converses. “It’s funny, but I’m afraid my shoes will fall into the river. It makes no sense because I tied and double knotted them this morning when I put them on.” She glanced up at him. “I’m afraid of something else. Maybe it’s illogical, too.”  
She raked her fingers through her hair, straight like the pages of a book, and it fell back again where it had been. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever dated. I’m afraid I’ll always wonder if there was someone else for me if I don’t date other guys. I’m too young to be sure.”
“I’m sure.” His voice was quiet, but inside his heart exploded. Why didn’t God tell Sam to marry him? 
“You haven’t dated anyone else either. How can you be sure?”
He debated telling her about the day she was sitting on the picnic table studying history. “I just know.” He stopped fiddling with the change in his pocket and tossed a quarter into the water. The sun caught it as it sunk to the bottom. He could hear the air move in and out through his nose. He looked at her. “Sam, I love you.” It was only the second time he’d told her. He’d wanted to give her time to catch up. But she hadn’t.
“I’ve thought about that every day since you first told me. But I don’t have an answer.”
“Has someone asked you out?”
Her cheeks tinged with pink under her tan.
Anger boiled through his veins. 
“We could still go out… just see other people.” Her voice was thin and pleading.
He shook his head. “I can’t do it. It’s just too hard. You’re going to have to make your choice.” He stared at the water gurgling under the bridge. His jaw clenched waiting for her answer. A dragonfly skimmed the water, buzzing his nerves. Still, he didn’t look at her. Was he afraid to see the rejection in her eyes or was it his anger he didn’t want her to read?
One lithe jump and she stood, looking down on him. “Good bye, Drew. I’m sorry.” There was a catch in her voice, the closest to tears he’d ever heard her. By the time the shock wore off, she had stepped off the dock and crossed the street into Old Fort Park.  
He walked that dock a dozen times before second semester began, trying to exorcize the pain. Was God testing his faith? God told Abraham he would have a child, but Isaac wasn’t born for another twenty-five years. He didn’t like it, but if Sam needed to date other guys, he’d have to wait it out till she came back to him.
But second semester was hell. He sulked, and Sam always seemed to have a guy hanging around her. 
He’d finished his biology final and was heading across campus when he looked up. 
Sam strode toward him.
She stopped in the middle of the quad. “Hi, Drew. It’s been a while.”
“I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“I got a scholarship to start on the Flagler College volleyball team. I’m taking it. I know you’ve been holding out for us to get back together. It’s not going to happen. There’s some awesome girl out there for you. But it’s not me.”
“You’re wrong.”
She sighed, long and heavy. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Good bye.”
And the imprint of that kiss was still on his life today. He looked at Rainey. She rested with her elbows on the step behind her, the yellow light of the dining hall backlighting her.
She sat up. “So, you’ve always felt like you needed to leave the door propped open for Sam to walk back into your life, like you didn’t have the right to close it and move on.”
“Pretty much.” He shrugged. “It was easier not seeing Sam anymore, but the whole thing sort of fossilized inside. Kurt kept telling me I had a personality change after Sam dumped me. I was an extrovert before Sam. Afterward, I pretty much hung with Kurt or Kurt and his friends. One of the reasons Kurt left was to force me to get a life.
“Are you?” He could feel Rainey’s gaze boring into him even though he couldn’t see her eyes.
“I’m thinking about a job change.” He reached up and tousled her hair. “I’ve made some good friends like you and Jesse.” He thought about kissing someone besides Sam. 
“But?”
“But, what if God did tell me to marry Sam?”
“Then you better do more than look up her Facebook.” 

Chapter 15

In the morning Aly woke up by degrees. First, she felt throbbing in her ankle, then sunlight blazing through her eyelids. She opened her eyes and saw a glass of water and a prescription bottle with a note in Cal’s blunt printing, “Take two for pain anytime after four a.m.” There was a tiny drawing of a girl on crutches with a heavily wrapped foot. She took the pills and clumped down the hall to the bathroom. 
“Aly!” Her mom came flying around the corner with an English muffin in her hand. “How are you, honey?” She was still in her pink flowered nursing scrubs.
Aly held up a hand and rushed into the bathroom. Her mother spoke through the door. “I gave Cal a key and told him to bring you here. I found him sacked out on your bedroom floor this morning. I didn’t mean he had to stay. It was only a sprained ankle. You would have been fine till I got off at seven. Anyway…”
Cal slept on her bedroom floor! How could a girl not love a guy like him? Why didn’t she realize he was interested in her back in high school? Why? How could she have been so stupid? Her hand went up to touch the eyebrow Cal had kissed last night. And now he was in love with Raine.

#

Raine sat on the back steps of the Canteen facing the parking lot. Morning sun toasted her shoulder and the side of her face. She should go get something to eat, but she’d sunk down here to sort out her thoughts after Drew went into breakfast.
Drew’s spilling his history with Sam last night hadn’t affected their friendship. This morning on the beach she’d agreed to help him with elementary camp on a regular basis. They talked about the camp volleyball tournament and how expensive her shots for Africa were going to be. Nothing had changed.
Then, why did the knowledge Drew was still in love with Sam weigh five hundred pounds. Maybe she was sad for him, that he’d lived so many years loving a woman who didn’t love him in return. 
Drew should marry. What a waste it would be for Drew to stay single—a waste of good looks, of  a guy who was obviously able to love a woman passionately, one who would be a great dad. 
Lord, would You do something about this?
The camp van screeched around the end of the hedge and slammed into park.
Cal jumped out. “Raine! You’re the person I wanted to see.” 
The stretch of his faded Ron Jon T-shirt across the contour of muscle on his chest and arms almost made her miss something different about him—the dab of awe in his expression. She searched his eyes till the rhythm of her heart beat in her ears.
“What?” He looked at her quizzically.
“Something’s different about you.”
He smiled a little. “Maybe that’s because God’s been talking to me.”
Joy burbled up like water from the porcelain drinking fountain on the backstop fence. “How?”
“I was sitting on my board in the waves and, like you said, I felt God’s caress in the sunset—I really felt it. The sun sat in the branches of the pines like someone had tossed it there. For maybe thirty seconds, the ocean turned to orangeade. I sketched it out last night, and I’m getting it down in paint today.”
Tears pooled in her eyes.
“While you were telling the lost sheep story, verses kept pouring into my head I hadn’t remembered in years.” He grabbed her hand. “God told me He loves me the way I am!”
Wonder was almost a scent between them.
Cal started to say something. He stopped. “You’re crying.”
The wetness that had collected in her lower lids spilled over. “Happy tears.”
He pushed her hair back behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful.” He wiped her tears away with the pads of his fingers.
Her insides quivered like violin strings under a frenzied bow. Part of her mind took in a woodpecker hammering a tree trunk, the sparkle of the sun on the dew coating the scraggly grass beside the Canteen steps. Maybe God didn’t take her crush away because He meant for them to be together.
Cal moved closer. His gaze drifted to her lips.
God? 
Wait. The answer came to Raine before the question had fully formed.
The violin strings stilled. She squeezed Cal’s hand. “I’m so happy for you.” 
“Raine—”
What could she say? Cal, God said—
Jillian sprinted around the corner of the Canteen as though God sent her. “Uncle Cal! Swing me! Swing me!”
Thanks, but I wanted the kiss.

#

Aly looked through the dining hall screen at Gar. His white blond hair was parted on the side, buzzed close around the ears. When she touched it, it slipped through her fingers like silken threads. Now, his head was bent toward Carina, the assistant camp dietician. He smiled at something she said. He rubbed the baby-fine fuzz on his chin like he did when he was nervous.
He was her boyfriend. What was he doing twittering around Carina? Intelligent people made Gar nervous, at least people he perceived as more intelligent than he was. She’d caught him rubbing his chin whenever their conversations veered into topics he didn’t quite grasp. 
Gar was wearing those clear-glass glasses again—the ones he said made him look smarter. Well, they sure weren’t helping him see Aly needed his help. She readjusted her crutches.
Carina was working on her masters and  an M.R.S. degree—neither of which would please Gar. Go ahead and flirt with her, Gar. It would serve him right if he fell in love with Carina and got dumped on his head.
Cal jogged up the steps onto the porch behind her. “Hey, Al.” He followed her gaze through the screen. 
Carina said something, and Gar threw his head back and laughed. 
“Chump,” was all Cal said.
A second ticked by, and Aly thought how much comfort packed into that one word.  
“How’s the foot?”
“A little better.” She pushed her long bangs out of her face. “Thanks for sleeping on my floor after the hospital. My mom laughed. She said it was only a sprain.”
“Your mom spends too much time in intensive care.”
“You were sweet. And I kept your note with the mini-me on it.” 
Cal grinned. “It looks like you kept every doodle I ever gave you.”
Aly remembered too late how her room was papered in Cal’s cast off drawings. “They’ll be worth something when you’re famous. Jesse says I have a good head for business.”
Cal jutted his chin in Gar’s direction. “Too smart for him.”
“Seems to me, if you’re not asking me out, you can’t diss the guy who is.” What was the use of dropping hints on Cal when he was in love with Raine?
He held his hands up. “Point taken.” They moved toward the door and Cal held it for her. “Go get a seat and I’ll get your food.”
She scanned the crowded dining hall. The only empty seats were at Gar’s table or at Kallie, Jesse, and Jillian’s. Just her luck. She hobbled over and sat down next to Jillian, avoiding eye contact with Kallie.
“Hi, Auntie Aly! Did you know Mommy has my little brother in her tummy and he’s going to come out soon and play with me?”
Cal set her food down and scraped a chair around for her to rest her injured foot on.
“You’re pampering me.”
He glanced in Gar’s direction across the dining hall and bent close to her ear. “Looks like you could use some pampering today.” He ruffled Jillian’s curls and walked away to get his own food.
“Mommy and Daddy said it might be a sister, but Uncle Cal says it’s a brother” Jillian jabbered.  
Kallie shot her a look over Jillian’s head like she wanted to make up. “Does it hurt?”
“It feels like I should sign up for Dancing With the Stars.” Duh.
“Really?” Jillian piped up. “You can dance with me, Auntie Aly.”
“Not today, sugar.”
Kallie tried again. “Was Mom her usual ‘short on sympathy’ self?”
Aly almost bit, but at the last moment she shrugged one shoulder. See how it feels, Kal. She watched Cal sit down next to Gar. Maybe God had a sense of humor after all.
Kallie sent Jillian with Jesse. “I’ll wait for Aly to finish eating. We’ll come over to the office in a couple of minutes.”
Oh, great. She could feel the bite of tuna salad sandwich expand in her throat. So much for lunch.
Once the table emptied, Kallie leaned across the table toward her. “I’m sorry I said that about you and Gar. I didn’t mean it the way you took it. Will you forgive me?”
“Stay out of my life.”
Kallie crumpled in front of her and rushed out the swinging doors before Aly could see her cry. A heartbeat later, she heard a muffled sob.
Aly raked her fingers through her hair. She was a mean-spirited pig treating her pregnant sister like that. Ever think about taking the high road?
Cal walked up and took her tray. “What was that all about?”
Aly clamped her lips shut.
“Fine.” He walked away.
Cal thought she was dog meat, too. Make it unanimous.

#

Raine watched Jesse douse the fire. She didn’t want to move. She’d been sitting shoulder to shoulder with Cal the whole campfire. A quarter moon winked at them overhead. She couldn’t sit here all night. She stirred.
“Don’t go yet.” Cal touched her arm.
Jesse tossed another bucket of seawater onto the embers. “Night Cal, Raine.” He started toward the seawall. “Don’t stay up too late, kids. I don’t want my teachers grumpy tomorrow.”
“Right, bro.”
Cal looked at her. “When do older sibs stop telling you what to do?”
“Never!” Her thoughts turned to Eddie like they had been at odd moments all day. She’d put money on it that Eddie had tangled in some kind of trouble. Help Eddie. Please. Night settled over them. The rhythmic slap and churn of the waves was hypnotic. Heavy air mumbled through her hair. 
Cal turned toward her and she watched the play of the moonlight on his cheeks. He leaned toward her, caught in a still frame while her thoughts raced. She could almost taste the softness of his lips in the shafts of excitement zinging back and forth between them. His five-o’clock shadow was mahogany against his sun-whitened mustache. He was a man, not the eighteen-year-old Jud she’d kissed years ago. Kisses she wished back, ones she’d thrown away on a guy who made her choose between him and Africa. 
Please, God, one kiss. 
But it was her own voice that screamed in her ears. And a mosh pit of other voices—not God’s—yelling their agreement. Kiss him! 
She knew in her soul what she had to do. She drew in a deep breath and shifted slightly away. 
“You’re not going to let me kiss you, are you?” Cal’s voice was quiet.
She gave a slight shake of her head with the last of her resolve.
He leaned back, his arms propping him up from behind. “There’s something about the look in your eyes… I’ve seen it more than once. I’d almost guess you want to kiss me.”
She bit down on the truth, locking it inside. “Pretty cocky, aren’t you?” 
He shrugged, one side of his mouth turning up. “Why won’t you kiss me?”
She let the air out of her lungs. “God said, ‘Wait.’“ At least, that’s what He said this morning, the last time she’d been thinking clearly enough to hear His voice.
“As in wait till you’re married? I had you pegged as one of those girls.”
“No,” she said too quickly. “As in ‘wait for now.’“
“So, maybe later God will say, ‘Go ahead and kiss the guy.’“
“Anything is possible.”
Cal shook his head and sat up. “I am so not having any conversations with God about kissing.” He stood and pulled her up. “Whenever I see you, I feel a lot like what Hobbes told Calvin—something about your heart falling into your stomach, making you sweat, which shorts out your brain.”
She chuckled. Yeah, that was pretty much how she felt around Cal. “What was Hobbes talking about?”
Cal pierced her with his gaze. “Love.”

Chapter 16

Drew rocked his chair back on two legs under the yellow circle of light on the Canteen porch. He settled his laptop on his knees and booted up. Night watch wasn’t so bad, especially when he could see the whole camp from here. 
Voices punctuated by laughter floated through the screens of the teen cabins. Aly and Gar sat on the stubby bleachers beside the softball field.
He drummed his thumbs on the edge of the keyboard while he waited for his MSN account to load.
An e-mail from Africa Cries Mission Agency. His breath sucked in. His hand trembled as he opened the letter. He scrolled down the page. “Have been praying for a choir director and teacher… Would like very much to see your résumé and a one-page summary of your spiritual journey at your earliest convenience…”
Raine was going to Africa. It ran through his head like a mantra. He rubbed his temples with the pads of his fingers. All he could see was the portrait of Raine in the yellow flowered blouse Cal had painted. He was in no state to Vulcan mind-meld with God. Obviously, he’d watched one too many episodes of Star Trek. If prayer were only that easy.
What had Jesse said to him last time they talked about Africa? Take the next step. If he applied for the job, he could still back out when he was thinking more clearly. He pulled up his résumé.

#

Raine’s lips formed a circle, but no sound came out. Cal had flung her into the swirl of a waterspout. He loved her. Loved her. She was dizzy, spinning, the colors bleeding into each other. A moment’s clarity—the smell of soggy, charred wood from the doused campfire, the grit of sand under her fingernails—then swirling again.
Cal reached for her hand, and she gripped his, something solid to hold onto. 
“I want to go on record. I’m serious about you.” He smiled, and her heart constricted. He took both her hands loosely in his. She thought how square they were, how foreign. How little she knew him. 
“Raine. I love you.” There were the words—not couched in a Calvin and Hobbes quote this time. He waited for her response.
“I…I don’t know what to say.” She’d been infatuated with Cal all summer. But love? Where were the breaks on this twister?
She saw the disappointment in his eyes before he cloaked it. He caught her hand firmly in his and they turned to hike through the soft sand to the seawall. He pulled her onto the seawall, and she had the feeling they’d crossed an invisible line she hadn’t considered. 
She glanced over at him, shy, all of a sudden. He was the same guy who’d been stamped to the insides of her eyelids when she fell asleep every night this summer. His hand was sturdy like he was—five-ten, solid without being stocky. His hair was pulled into a ponytail the way he almost always wore it. But he was a stranger.
“What?”
She looked away. “Nothing.”
“Reconsidering the kiss?” Cal grinned at her.
His grin chased away her awkwardness. “Looking at the menu.”
He pulled her closer to his side. “Come meet my parents on Saturday. You already know Jesse and Missy. Mom will faint for joy. You’re exactly what she’s been praying for.” 
Her mind reeled. Meet his parents? She was caught up in the current of the spout. They passed the New Smyrna Beach Surf and Sailing Camp sign.
She wanted to break away from Cal. For the first time all summer she didn’t know what she felt about him. One thing she knew—she wasn’t ready to announce to the camp grapevine that she and Cal were a couple. But Cal held on tight to her hand as though he sensed her reluctance.
Drew’s face was lit by the glow of his laptop where he sat on the Canteen porch. Above him, insects darted around in the yellow light cast by a single bulb. Every once in a while he swatted over his head at them. He hadn’t looked up yet, and they were almost past him.
Please, Lord, don’t let him look up. She didn’t know why it was so important, but she didn’t want Drew to see her holding hands with Cal. But it was a silly prayer. Drew was on night watch. It was his job to look. And he had a clear shot of her and Cal all the way to her cabin.
Florescent light from the pole behind the backstop fell over Gar and Aly on her crutches. 
“Hey, Al. Gar.” Cal sure wasn’t making any effort to keep this on the down-low. 
Aly’s breath caught and her eyes darted to Cal’s. She glared at Raine like she’d committed a felony. 
“Hey.” Gar looked between them and smirked. It wasn’t a good look for him.
Raine glanced away, embarrassed. She’d told Aly she wouldn’t go out with Cal. And here she was holding hands with him. She didn’t blame Aly for being ticked.
Cal kept walking. “Later,” he tossed over his shoulder.
In front of her cabin, Cal stopped and faced her, his fingers still laced with hers. 
They stood in the shadows outside the sphere of the cabin’s porch light.
“It might seem like this is a spur of the moment thing.” His voice was low and soft so that it wouldn’t carry to the nearby screens where the younger girls still whispered. “But I told Aly I loved you the night of the rainstorm when I was painting you.”
“You told Aly before you told me?” Regardless of how Raine felt, that was plain wrong.
“You weren’t ready to hear it.”
“I don’t know if I was ready to hear it tonight.” That was the truest thing Raine had said all evening.
His voice dropped even lower. “Raine, I love you. I can’t help it, I just do.” Before she could say anything, he kissed her hairline beside her temple. He held his hand up. “I know it’s a shock. Think about it. We’ll talk about it later.” He let her fingers slip from his hand. 
Cool air doused her sweaty palm, but the place he kissed felt like a brand. She jogged silently up the steps and slipped through the door. What if Drew saw the kiss? And Aly had to have seen.
She’d been crushing on Cal all summer, and now he’d put her on speed dial. Why hadn’t she ever thought about the possibility of Cal falling for her? While she hadn’t been successful in killing the crush, she certainly had blacked out any future for them. She hugged her knees to her chest in the dark. The sound of a camper mumbling in her sleep floated through the cracked open door.
It was almost as if Cal wanted to stake his claim to her. There was a desperation about him that flirted around the edges of her consciousness. Did Cal want Drew and Aly and the whole camp to think she belonged to him? 
Did she want to belong to Cal?

#

Drew looked up from his résumé and scanned the camp from the Canteen porch. Aly sat on the aluminum bleachers flinging her arms around, firing words he couldn’t hear at Gar.
A cricket symphony screamed in the skunk-scented night around him. Something moved in the shadows on the road up by the camp sign. He stared at the two figures walking into camp holding hands.
The floodlights from the camp sign caught their faces. Rainey and Cal. 
Oh, God. The impact knifed between his ribs. Cal is so wrong for her. This can’t be Your idea. 
His gaze dropped blankly to the computer screen. He could hear their footfalls as they walked on the dirt road past the Canteen. A moth buzzed his head. He swatted it away without looking up. The irony washed over him. He was applying for a job—partly, at least—because of a girl who was at the same moment parading past with another guy.
Drew’s eyes followed them up the road to Rainey’s cabin. He couldn’t stop himself. In the shadows, their heads came together and separated. Then Rainey disappeared into her cabin. Cal walked off toward the boys’ cabins. 
Drew shut down the computer and set it on the bench behind him. His chair thumped onto four legs. He folded his hands between his knees. His head drooped between his shoulder blades. But he wasn’t praying. He was listening to the jealousy simmer in his gut, a slow boil that drowned out the crickets. He got up to make his last rounds. Maybe he could walk the anger off.
He circled the camp four times. He was still mad, but the fire was finally leaking out as his body tired. 
Lord? He didn’t know what to ask. But the answer came anyway—in the form of Scripture running through his mind. 
“Love is patient, and is not jealous… does not seek its own…does not take into account a wrong suffered, hopes all things, endures all things.”
Did he love Rainey? Was that why God gave him that passage? Maybe. Probably. But what about Sam? He loved Rainey, at the very least as a friend, and if he loved her, he needed to think about what was best for her, not for himself. What if Cal were the man who was best for Rainey? He’d noticed something between Rainey and Cal early in the summer, then there was the painting. This shouldn’t come as a surprise.
But he could hope. And pray. Lord, would You start turning Rainey’s heart away from Cal and toward me if she is the woman You’ve chosen for me. What if God was shaking his head at him, telling him to stick to Plan A: Sam? 
He walked past Rainey’s darkened cabin, heading for his own bunk. Rainey must be asleep by now. His mind wandered to Rainey’s dark hair spread across the white of her pillowcase, her lashes resting on her cheek, her rhythmic breathing. Her bare arm and shoulder peeking from rumpled sheets—
Lord, would you throw this car into reverse? I don’t have the strength to fight it tonight.
Drew jerked back. A three-foot garter snake slithered through the sand in front of  him from under the croton bushes around the gym. Even though he knew it was harmless, adrenalin surged into his system at the surprise. He stood watching the snake’s stripes glide across the sandy road and into the thick grass of the athletic field. Beautiful.
Nice one, God. 

#

Aly shut the door to her room behind her and flipped on the light. Raine sat on the bottom bunk fully clothed. Raine squinted at her and held a palm between her eyes and the ceiling light. 
“I thought you were going to kill your crush on Cal.” She pressed her knuckles against her hipbones. Her anger filled in the space between them. “That’s why I didn’t tell you—” she stopped herself.
“That Cal loves me.” Raine set her chin on her knees in front of her.
“He told you?” Cal never told her he loved her. And he had loved her a lot longer than he loved Raine.  
“Tonight.” Raine didn’t seem exactly overjoyed about it,
Her anger dribbled out. Staying angry with Raine wasn’t easy. “Cal’s the kind of guy who travels around Europe and stays in hostels on Euros he earns chopping firewood. He’s the kind of guy who learns to smoke unfiltered cigarettes and quote obscure dead poets.”
Raine hugged her pillow to her chest. “I’m so confused. It all happened so fast.”
“What about Africa?” There. That was her best shot.
Raine looked up. “He had a spiritual experience last night.”
“He was in the emergency room with me last night.”
“Before that—while he was surfing, and at elementary campfire. He said God told him He loved him the way he was.”
Why didn’t Cal tell her? Her ankle was killing her. She eased onto the foot of Raine’s bed and gingerly propped her foot on the desk chair.
“Cal wants me to meet his folks.”
A laundry sack of rocks settled on her chest. Cal was that serious about Raine. 
“It feels like Cal’s trying too hard,” Raine said. 
“Do you love him?” Her fingernails dug into her palms.  
“I don’t know. It’s all so much, so fast. I never imagined Cal interested in more than a flirtation. I’m supposed to leave for Africa in a month. What would we do, have an e-mail relationship?”
The wave of hope curled perfectly in front of her, and Aly was up and surfing like Cal taught her. “Stick to your dream. It makes me think I can stick to mine—no matter what.”
“What’s your dream?”
“I want to run a successful business someday, my own.” I want someone to love me. She eased her foot down to the floor and reached for her crutches. “But I’m going to have to learn to keep better track of petty cash. Fifty dollars disappeared from my desk drawer today. I’ve racked my brain, but I can’t figure out what happened to it.” 
She stood up and glanced at Raine. She didn’t look good. Her face had gone chalky. Lines creased her forehead. Cal’s revelation had been harder on her than Aly realized. She wanted to hug her, but the vacant look in Raine’s eyes held her back. She probably needed some time alone to process. Aly eased the door open and sidled through it with her crutches. Raine didn’t seem to notice.

#

Raine’s right foot had fallen asleep, and she slid off the bed to shake it out. Aly must have gone out, but she couldn’t remember when. One a.m., the clock read. 
Eddie had stolen the petty cash from Aly’s drawer. Tomorrow she’d replace what Eddie stole, put it someplace odd where Aly would find it and assume she’d misplaced it.
Cash always came up missing when Eddie was around. She wondered if her whole family was in denial. For a while they talked about it. Was it a neighbor kid? Was it a familial shortcoming that none of them could keep track of their money? But after awhile no one talked about it anymore. Were they in denial? Or did they learn to lock their cash away? 
When they were kids, she knew Eddie so well she could almost say the words as they came out of his mouth—like the script from The Lion King they’d watched a hundred times. But she didn’t know this stranger that inhabited her brother’s body. Sometimes she had to ask him questions about their childhood to reassure herself it was Eddie. 
They were all taught not to steal. How was Eddie not eaten up with guilt? Ever since—that night—she wondered what he was capable of. Brothers protected their sisters, not harmed them. But the physical scar was minute compared to the junkyard of scars she had inside. No wonder she was having trouble trusting Cal.

#

Aly crutched toward the gym where she’d left her sweatshirt earlier when she and Gar were having their argument. 
Cal told Raine he loved her. He was taking her home to meet the folks. Raine wouldn’t know the ceramic sugar canister was the middle one on top of the refrigerator at Cal’s folks, with a lid shaped like a mushroom top. That Starr hung the toilet paper so it rolled from underneath. That Jackson wore nasal strips to bed—he forgot to take one off last Christmas morning. That Cal was Starr’s favorite. It was amazing the trivia you collected spending holidays with a family. 
And she knew Cal. He would go to Africa and deal with the consequences later. He acted with his heart, not his head. And his heart was obviously in love with Raine. She wanted to curl up in a ball and be held in someone’s arms. Gar, at least, was good at holding her.
A frog croaked in the shadows beside the gym, and she jumped onto the cement slab in front of the gym door with her good foot. Her heart beat double-time. 
Voices came from inside. Stopping, she listened to the low timbre of a male talking. Something was familiar about the voice. She maneuvered through the door that had been left slightly ajar. Gar. Whoever Gar was talking to, she’d send away. She needed him. She propped her crutches against the wall and eased up the steps, her need for comfort propelling her.

Chapter 17

Cal had been rolling around like a chicken in a Winn Dixie rotisserie for the past hour. He shoved the dew-damp sheet onto the floor beside his bunk. He’d finish Raine’s portrait. She was all he was thinking about anyway. He pulled on a T-shirt in the dark, grabbed his flip-flops, and headed for the lodge.
The shop light clamped to the easel shone on Raine’s portrait. He sat back and feasted his eyes. He hadn’t stood a chance. If she’d only been intriguing, he might have resisted. But her beauty fascinated the artist in him.
Terror lurked under the surface. Could he actually win her? Was he man enough—spiritually man enough? Raine set the bar high. Africa, he could do. Sure, it was a stretch, but easier than the internal remodeling he wasn’t sure he could pull off. 

#

Raine stopped and eyed the spot where she usually found Drew. The beach was empty. The sun simmered on the horizon, boiling the humidity in the air. She dragged an arm across her forehead and drooped down under the shade of a pine. She was too hot and tired to make it to the jetty this morning. She brushed away the needles that dropped into her hair and let the sound of the waves lull her.
She didn’t hear Drew until he dropped on the sand in front of her with a grunt. Bloodshot eyes studied her, then looked away. His hair hadn’t seen a comb. He wore a misshapen, faded Triple S T-shirt with a hole in one shoulder and baggy shorts.
“You look awful.” She shifted away from the rough bark poking her between her shoulder blades.
“Short night. You don’t look so hot yourself.” His tone was wry.
She squinted at him trying to decide whether he’d seen her with Cal last night. A gull cawed over the water. A puff of air lifted her bangs off her forehead and let them fall. Drew held her gaze, his expression giving nothing away. 
She sucked in a deep breath. “I…I’ve gotten myself into a big mess… I don’t know how to get out of it. …Or, if I want to get out of it.”
He looked at her for several heartbeats. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. “You wouldn’t call it a mess if you wanted to stay in it.” His smile was infectious. 
“Let’s say that it feels like a mess at the moment.” Smiling made her feel a little better. “I’ve been praying, but I’m not getting any answers. Would you… would you pray for me?”
Drew held out his palms to her, and she placed her hands in them. His long fingers cupped hers, his thumbs resting across her knuckles. She closed her eyes, feeling safe.
Drew’s voice, gravelly with the dregs of sleep, wrapped around her. “Lord, Rainey needs to know You’re listening. She needs Your comfort. Your peace. And she needs Your wisdom to know what to do—at least for today.”
Drew was right. She only needed to know what to do today. 
The timbre of his voice touched her soul with a desire to surrender Cal and Eddie, and even herself, to God. And he wasn’t even singing. 
Drew squeezed her hands, and her eyes popped open. She needed to pay better attention. “Thanks. I feel better.” 
She started to pull her hands back into her lap, but Drew held onto her left hand. “Tell me about the scar, Rainey.” He ran the back of his finger over the jagged pink flesh in the crook of her arm.
She owed Drew after he told her about Sam. But she’d never told anyone about the scar. She breathed in the peace from Drew’s prayer and stepped into the lava field of the past.
She was seventeen, and it was late at night. Eddie often came to her room when he was high and couldn’t sleep. He’d wake her up, and they’d talk. She almost looked forward to those times because he told her everything, things no one else knew. And he always tried to convince her to try meth. It made him feel invincible, happy, he said. That was the year Mom thought she had chronic fatigue because she was always falling asleep doing her school work. Eddie was out of school and worked late hours at the movie theatre. No one kept tabs on him.
That night, she woke suddenly, pain searing into her arm. Eddie leaned over her, his breath hot on her skin. He clamped her arm with the vice of his fingers. He had that wild look he got when he was high—dilated pupils, twitching. 
In the glow from her clock, she saw a needle stuck in her arm. Amber liquid filled the attached syringe. She jerked away from Eddie with all her strength, ripping her flesh away from the needle. She screamed and kept screaming—outrage, pain, fear raking her throat raw. Eddie sprung away from her.
Mom and Dad burst into the room. “Raine, what is it?” Dad’s eyes flung around the room. He raised the blind and checked the lock on her window.
She whimpered and opened her eyes. Where was Eddie? Had he slipped out of the room or was he hiding nearby?
She must have grabbed a tissue from her bedside table in her hysteria because a tail of white was sandwiched in her arm. She tucked it out of sight and curled around the pain. Why was she protecting him even now? 
Mom kissed her head. “It’s a nightmare.” She wrapped her in her arms. “Come on, honey, we’ll go downstairs for some warm milk.”
She let Mom lead her to the sofa where she curled up in a ball. Mom cradled her, rocking her back and forth like a small child. 
Eventually, she relaxed. Mom stroked her hair, soothed her, saying, “It was only a dream. It’s okay. Everything’s all right.” But it wasn’t. And everything would never be all right again.
She and Mom searched every inch of her room making sure no one was there. 
“I’ll be okay.” She smiled weakly at Mom. “Go on back to bed.”
She stood with her ear against the door listening to Mom pad down the hall. Mom’s door opened. Closed. She shoved her dresser in front of her door—and she’d done that every night till she moved into Triple S.
She looked over at Drew. His eye lashes were wet and clumped together.
“The next day, Eddie acted like he had no memory of what happened. And he’s never admitted it since.” She shrugged. “Maybe he really doesn’t remember.”
Drew rolled onto his knees. He bent toward her and dried tears she didn’t know she’d cried from her cheeks with the tail of his T-shirt. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this.” His eyes brimmed with compassion. He let go of the shirt, and his hand cradled her cheek. His face dipped to hers, and his lips touched hers with a kiss that was soft like the well-washed cotton of his shirt.
Drew sat back on his heels.
She looked at Drew. What did the kiss mean? What was he thinking?
Drew shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to do at the moment.” He gave her a sheepish grin.
She looked away. Comfort. He meant it for comfort. She stood and brushed the sand off her shorts. 
They walked toward the seawall. 
“Why didn’t you tell your parents?” Drew said.
And, poof, the kiss disappeared as though it never happened. Fine. She drew in a breath and released it. “I guess I was protecting him because I knew this wasn’t Eddie. It was the methamphetamine. I have so many more good memories of Eddie. When we were kids he bought me a Harry Potter book my parents forbade us to read. He emptied his piggy bank to buy that book.”
Drew gave her a hand up to the seawall, and the touch materialized the kiss in her mind. She tugged her hand out of his. He was in love with Sam. 
“Did you read Harry Potter?”
“I hid it in my closet for a week, but, yeah, I read it under the covers with a flashlight and felt like a criminal. I finally confessed to Mom.”
Drew smiled. “Sounds like you.” He raked his fingers through his bed-head, making little improvement. “What was Eddie like before he got into drugs?”
“He went through puberty late–all legs and no shoulders, acne.  I was the only one who understood his know-it-all attitude covered-up insecurity.” 
Her shock from the kiss was wearing off. She glanced over at Drew. Could he be interested in her? He looked as calm as ever.
“What drove Eddie into drugs?” 
“He needed friends. When he was fifteen he learned to surf. Surfing bulked up his shoulders. The sun helped his acne. And the druggie surfers took him in.”
They passed the gazebo. She lifted a hand in Drew’s direction and veered off toward the lodge. She needed to be alone in her classroom to think. Maybe the kiss meant comfort to Drew, but he’d pitched her down a bumpy hillside end over end like Buttercup in The Princess Bride. She was too confused to know what she thought.
She sunk down to her knees on the carpet square next to the window where she usually prayed for her students. Oh, God. 
“Raine!” She tensed at the sound of Cal’s voice and jumped up like she’d been caught filching candy from the snack bar. 
Cal strode toward her with a painting under his arm. 
Her breath caught. When was she going to get used to the way he looked? His hair was down on his shoulders today, crimped and ocean-soft. His brows and mustache were sun-bleached white against the deep tan of his freshly shaved cheeks and chin. Did she love him?
He stopped in front of her. Energy radiated from him, crossing the small space between them.
She looked down, but she could still feel his brown eyes drinking her in.
“I finished your painting.”
Her gaze shot to the canvas under Cal’s arm. “When?”
“Stayed up all night.” 
Why did that bother her? “Let me see it.”
Cal flipped the painting around to face her and propped it on a chair. Like looking in the mirror, only more—more of who she was inside. It was almost scary how well Cal had captured her. 
Her hair was flipped up and away from her face, the way she always wore it. The inky brown was a perfect match. In her face, she saw grit and passion as she taught from the Bible open in her lap. She remembered every one of those hours she sat for Cal, hours spent praying for him. 
Cal was a master with color. Out of the burnt oranges and browns in the room, the yellow of her blouse drew the eye, then upward to her face illumined from unseen light. Cal must have gotten that look the night he painted her by lamplight while it rained outside—the night they’d first acknowledged they had feelings for each other.
She glanced up at Cal. He stood there gauging her reaction. 
In the painting there was a subtle white light shining from her eyes, but her lips were full and parted. She understood how Cal saw her—innocent and alluring. And it made her uncomfortable.
“Amazing.”
“You’re amazing.” His voice was reverent and it pressed down on her like layers and layers of quilts. “Hey, my folks are going to be gone all day tomorrow to Ocala for a district conference. They want to know if we can come over tonight.”
“You talked to your parents already this morning?” She was buying time. Lord, what do you want me to do? Drew had asked for guidance for today.
Cal laughed. “Yeah, Mom ‘bout fainted.”
“I’m committed to elementary campfire, but I’ll be free after that.” Drew had handled the campfire for a month without her, he could do alone tonight. But she loved counseling the kids afterward and helping Drew with his talks. This was the right decision.
If Cal was disappointed, he swallowed it. Picking up the canvas with one hand, he stepped toward her.
Please, please don’t touch me. She was still on overload from last night. And Drew’s kiss. 
He stopped in front of her, and she could see the exhaustion in his eyes—exhaustion that felt like the too-expensive roses the greasy-haired neighbor kid bought her with his paper route money in sixth grade. She’d never asked for his devotion.
“I’ll pick you up from campfire, then.” He held her eyes for a moment longer. “Africa is sounding better all the time.” He turned, and walked out the door.

#

The sugary sand burned the soles of Raine’s feet as she marched toward the inlet. Eddie said he’d be here. She sloshed ankle-deep into the water and looked for Eddie among the die-hard surfers bobbing in the flat waves. No Eddie. 
Her stomach knotted. She hated this lonely stretch of beach Eddie’s crowd favored. This was where that creep had tried to get her into his van. She tugged her visor down on her forehead. She’d had self-defense class since then. She knew she was less vulnerable if she walked like she had a purpose. And, boy, did she. 
There he was, leaning against a boulder at the inlet. 
“What’s up?” Eddie was in his usual surf trunks. He crossed his sand-caked feet at the ankles and folded his arms across his chest.
She gave him her usual once over. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were blood shot through his sun glasses. His ribs were a washboard thin under a coat of sand. He wasn’t twitching today. Good.
“Money’s come up missing from the camp office.”
“So?”
“You took it.”
“I haven’t been anywhere near your stinkin’ camp. I’ve been working up at the other end of the beach scraping barnacles off the hull of Boston Whaler. Guy paid me crap, too.”
Eddie was a liar. A good one. And a thief. No one ever confronted him, and now she wished she hadn’t. He sounded so sane.
“Listen to me. If you ever want to get another cent from me, stay away from the camp. I don’t care whether you stole that money or not. Stay away from Triple S.”
“I don’t have to put up with this—” 
She winced at the word he spat at her. “Just stay away from the camp.”
“I love you, too, Sis.” He stalked up into the dunes.
She turned back toward town, small in the distance, feeling utterly alone.

#

Drew dropped an armful of kindling on the sand beside the fire circle. “Let me get this straight.” He looked up at Rainey. “You’ve never been to Africa?”
He’d been an idiot kissing Rainey this morning. Tension popped between them like pine sap on the fire.
“Was there something in the rulebook I missed?” She handed him a bundle of thin sticks to start the fire with. “I have to visit Africa before God can call me there?”
“I’m surprised.”
“My folks raised three kids on a teacher’s salary. All the money I earned went to my college, and lately to a one-way ticket to Entebbe.”
“And to Eddie.”
Rainey spun toward him. “Since when is my call and what I spend my money on your concern?” 
He knew he should shut up, but this had been bugging him. He might not get another chance to say it before she bought her ticket. “Are you going to Africa to run away from Eddie?” 
Rainey dropped her armload of logs smack on top of his carefully constructed newspaper and stick teepee he was going to use to light the fire. “Somebody better give Sam a head’s-up on your dictatorial side. Oh, maybe she already noticed.” She strode away, her shoulders as stiff as the logs criss-crossing the crushed teepee in the fire pit. 
He pulled logs out of the pit and stacked them with the others in angry precision. He’d done Rainey a favor pointing out her faulty motivation for Africa and her enabling. And she turned around and knifed him in the gut about Sam. He sure picked the wrong person to tell about Sam. 
And how was he supposed to lead campfire in half an hour? Anger percolated under his skin as he gathered the wadded newspaper into a pile and leaned sticks against it one by one. He stood and kicked the whole mess. 
He stalked toward the shore. The water cooled his ankles. He bent and splashed the salty wetness onto his face. Lord, I need some help here.
Seeing Rainey with Cal last night had made him crazy. Made him kiss her when she was vulnerable—which led to tonight’s blow-up.  
God help him, but he wasn’t sorry for that kiss. 
He strode toward the shed, the direction she’d taken. When he came around the corner of the building, he found her crying into her knees, big sobs that shook her body. 
His hand went to her shoulder, but she shook him off. He sat down on the sand beside her. “Rainey, I’m sorry. Sorry for fighting. I was in a bad mood.”
She gradually quieted, but didn’t raise her head. “But you don’t think I should give Eddie money,” she said into her knees. “You think I’m running away from Eddie to Africa.”
“This is about the kiss.”
Rainey’s head jerked up. Her face was smeared with tears, her eyes red-rimmed. And he felt like a total jerk.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’ve got to deal with Sam. You’ve got to sort things out with Cal. I put us both on edge. Will you forgive me?”
“But you still think—”
“It’s between you and God. Not my business. Come on, say you forgive me.” He put a hand on her arm. “Please.”
Rainey turned toward him, curling into his chest. He gathered her to him. Oh God, that he could hold her forever. 
But he wasn’t making the same mistake twice. “Let’s pray.” Drew eased her away from him and held out his hand. They leaned back against the shed and prayed for the campfire till the sun slipped a notch in the sky and they heard children’s voices coming up the road.
He would Facebook Sam tonight. 

Chapter 18

Cal sat in his ‘89 Celebrity Wagon and drummed his fingers against the chalky paint under the surfboard racks. In the distance, Raine bowed her head as though she were praying over a boy in a Spiderman T-shirt that looked older than the kid was. The boy lifted his head and wiped one eye with the back of his wrist. Raine hugged him. Nearby, a girl slapped Drew high five and took off after her cabin mates. 
Drew shared something with Raine he didn’t—ministry. That torqued him, but what could he do about it? He was barely holding together his newfound spirituality, much less helping anyone else.
Twenty minutes later, Dad lumbered out of his easy chair to shake Raine’s hand. Mom stretched an arm out to Raine, an arabesque. Mom’s jean capris and oversized T-shirt made her look ten years younger than Dad who had gone grey sometime when Cal wasn’t looking.
Dad launched the inquisition, and Cal settled into the couch cushions to enjoy the show. He should have brought Raine home weeks ago. This was going to be better than the last time he brought home straight A’s—in fifth grade.
“This is a treat, Cal bringing a girl home,” Dad said. “So, what are you going to do with your degree?”
Cal squeezed Raine’s hand where it lay on the sofa between them. 
“I’m going to Africa to teach orphans the Bible.”
Dad’s brows lifted a fraction. And Mom fumbled and nearly dumped a plate of brownies into Raine’s lap. He kept the smile from his face. What had Mom expected, a surfer girl who went by the name of Thrasher?
Mom’s face broke into a smile like she’d been saved for the second time.
He clunked his feet on the coffee table beside a stack of Mom’s Dance Magazines and slid his arm around Raine. He listened to Mom and Dad pull out the pieces of Raine’s story like magicians’ scarves, each more beautiful than the last.
Raine got up to help Mom clear away the dishes. 
“So, Cal, you quit running?” Dad’s voice knifed through his euphoria.
Running from God, Dad meant. He never should have let Raine get out of the room. He sat up, his parents’ expectations jumping on his back like a camp kid clamoring for a piggyback. Mom was all about how things looked on the outside. But he’d forgotten Dad’s laser beam into his soul.
“We’ve been talking.”
 “You and Raine?” Dad wasn’t going to let him fudge on this one.
“Me and God.”
“Oh?”
He threw Dad a bone. “Scriptures I learned as a kid are coming back.”  Let’s hope that satisfies him. He didn’t want his fledgling faith dissected, especially in front of Raine. He could hear the water running in the kitchen and snipets of Raine and Mom’s conversation.
Dad rubbed his chin. “Is this ‘talking’ to please Raine?”
So much for not getting dissected. “I’m going in the direction you want me to go. Leave it at that.”
“Remember Jonah.”
How could he forget? Dad had it in his head he was running from God’s “call” like Jonah had. It was always like this. No matter what spiritual strides he took, they were never enough. What was the point in moving toward God when it only meant amping up the pressure?  
Raine and Mom walked back into the room, and he let his breath out. “We have to get back to camp.” He stood.
Mom’s eyes shot to his. 
Not tonight. Dad had taken his shots at him, and he wasn’t in the mood for Mom’s. He didn’t need her harping about his standby job at Stoney’s Tattoo, his hair and his church attendance.
Raine’s opinion was the one he had to worry about. 
Cal shook his father’s hand, focusing on the crease at the bridge of his nose instead of the love and longing in his eyes. Mom handed him a Chinet plate of brownies covered in aluminum foil. He kissed her cheek. 
As they got into the car, Raine nailed him with a look. “What’s wrong?”
Cal looked away. “Talk to me about Africa.”

#

Raine woke up to scratching on the screen. Aly moved on the bunk overhead. 
“Al.” It was a whisper.
Raine could picture Aly up on one elbow looking out the screen at whoever it was. Aly slid down from the top bunk.
It wasn’t any of her business who Aly was meeting—she looked at the clock, moving only her eyes—at two thirteen a.m. Aly stooped to pick up her shoes and slipped out the door. Raine listened to Aly’s bare feet limp across the cabin and out onto the porch.
Raine had only heard one whispered syllable, but “Al” was Cal’s pet name for Aly. Someone else could call her that… .
Cal had picked her brain about Africa tonight. There was no way he was slinking out with Aly. Besides, he knew she and Aly were roommates. Her mind drifted toward sleep.
Is he the one, Lord? Cal wasn’t the skeptic he was when she met him. He came to campfire every night now, and the expression on his face when he sang couldn’t be faked. Something was connecting between Cal and God. She rolled over and squeezed her eyes shut. 
She threw back her quilt. The clock glowed two forty three, and she wasn’t asleep. She tugged on her sweatshirt jacket. She’d find out for herself who Aly was meeting. Mom always said she was too nosey for her own good.

#

Drew pulled his pillow over his head fighting to stay in the dream, but it was no use. He stared at the underside of Keenan’s bed in the glow from his clock. It was the same dream he kept having—Rainey asleep in his arms under the mosquito netting, some filmy something between them. He lay back on his pillow trying not to disturb Keenan. What was he going to do? 
It was one thing to be noble when you were wide awake, but surely God didn’t hold him responsible for what he dreamed. 
He’d messaged Sam last night. All he wanted was for her to do what she did so well—blow him off. God, please. And for Cal to take himself off the playing field. Rainey called her relationship with Cal a mess, but she left in his car after campfire last night. 
The desire to kiss Rainey again was nearly overwhelming. Big mistake, kissing her the first time. 
#
Aly yawned loudly. Cal motioned for her to keep quiet. She’d left her crutches in the cabin, and had to clutch Cal’s arm while she limped across the athletic field. Her flip-flops flung droplets of dew against her bare legs. She stopped and rubbed her arms wishing she’d been awake enough to grab a jacket. 
Finally, they made it onto the laundry porch. 
Cal squatted against the wooden siding and looked up at her. “Thanks for coming.” 
She watched the crown of his head as he bent over. She’d always liked the golden color, the waves. Then, she saw the baggie of pot and the rolling papers. 
And she’d thought… never mind. She should have guessed what he had on his mind. She sat down and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I’m cold.” She picked the grass off her feet and flicked the pieces off the edge of the porch.
Cal looked her over as he lit a match and sucked air through the cigarette until the tip glowed. He passed the joint to her, holding his breath. The smoke came out with his words. “You could have worn a little more clothing.” One brow quirked, and she knew Cal had recorded exactly what she had or didn’t have on. But it wasn’t the kind of look that said he was going to do anything about it. 
Cal’s arm dropped around her shoulders and she scooted against his side. They sat in the quiet, passing the joint back and forth. If she closed her eyes and focused on the warmth of his arm and his chest—she could pretend he cared.
But it was no use. Cal had been her best shot at loving and being loved, and she’d been too busy polluting her life with guys who didn’t love her to notice. When she looked over her shoulder, all she could see was wreckage, like the remains of a demolition derby—broken relationships that had to be her fault. 
She used to “sleep over” in Kallie’s room when Kallie was in high school and she was in grade school. She tried so hard to stay awake, but she always ended up falling asleep in the middle of their talks. But Kallie got religion, then she got married, then she had Jillian. Each one, a step away from Aly, religion being the flying first leap.
Daddy didn’t love her. She sent him cards every year on her birthday to remind him he had a daughter. No response. None. At least she still got along with Mom. 
She felt like she was swinging on the backyard swing someone left at the Magnolia Street house. She hung upside down and imagined the trees were all growing from the sky. She wanted to feel this way all the time. Free. Clean. Next time she went home, she would swing again.
Cal dropped the small butt on the porch and ground it out with the heel of his sandal.
Aly turned her chin toward Cal and tried to look at him, but he was too close. “You drug me out in the middle of the night, why?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Pressure. Dad expects a spiritual mini-me. Raine wants the same. And Africa. I’m paddling as hard as I can, and I can’t stand up and surf…. Don’t know if I ever will.”
“I never tried to meet Kallie’s expectations…” Her thoughts felt fuzzy, disjointed. What was it that she wanted to tell Cal? Her mind tripped backward. Facts flew at her in no particular order— Carina’s dark, intelligent eyes, the olive and rose of her skin as she lay facing Gar, her head propped on an elbow—and tumbled out to Cal. Moonlight had splashed across Gar’s muscular body, the pink and green plaid sleeping bag. Lumps of clothing dotted the gym planking like discarded paint rags. Hanging in the air was the smell of old sweat and rotting garbage from the dumpster behind the gym. And sex.
“I felt like I should look away, slink back down the gym steps before they saw me. But I got mad.”
“No kidding.” Cal peered down at her, his eyes round with surprise. 
She leaned back against Cal’s arm, closed her eyes, and went on with the story.
“Carina.” The girl’s head had jerked up. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 
Carina sat up, pulling her knees in front of her, trying to cover herself. A moonbeam caught the warring of shock and guilt on her face like a black and white photograph. 
Gar sat up and turned toward her, making no attempt to hide his nakedness. One thing she knew about Gar, he was more proud of his body than anything else in life.
She ignored him, smiling slightly at Carina. “You noticed how the steroids missed one of his, uh, appendages,” she directed her gaze at Gar’s body part—in case he didn’t understand the word ‘appendage’—and back at Carina. 
Gar’s face had mottled with anger as he shifted his offending body part out of her sight. 
Cal’s chest rumbled with mirth before it bubbled out of his throat and dulled the ache of betrayal under her ribs. “I can’t believe you insulted his manhood like that.” He laughed again, a contagious belly laugh. 
A tiny giggle fizzed through her like a Fourth of July sparkler. It felt so good to laugh. When was the last time she’d laughed?
They fed off each other until Cal gripped his stomach, and she rocked back and forth, a snort slipping out. She smeared the tears into her face with her hands. She could feel Cal’s body quiver with laughter he was trying to suppress.

#

Raine buried her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She was crazy for looking for Aly at this hour, all because she thought Cal might have been the one who woke her up. She stood in front of the bleachers not sure where to go. The athletic field lights had been doused by the night watch. Only yellow bulbs glowed around camp. 
What if she found Aly? What excuse would she have for following her? What if Aly was doing something she didn’t want to see? She should go back and climb into her bed.
Was that laughter coming from the far side of camp? She stepped onto the dew-slicked grass of the athletic field. She heard more sounds. Though it was darker on the field, she felt safer somehow—no bushes and buildings to harbor hidden dangers. Like Eddie. 
She moved toward the laundry, the laughter gradually becoming distinguishable as male and female. On the edges of her shoes, she crept to the back of the laundry.  
She peered around the corner of the laundry at the porch.  
Aly, who wore only a baggy nightshirt and Umbro soccer shorts—the same thing she wore to bed every night—was tucked under Cal’s arm. They laughed hysterically. As she watched from the shadows, their laughter died down to an intermittent giggle from Aly. 
While she debated what to do, Cal took his arm from around Aly and lit a joint. She watched him fill his lungs, and suddenly it could have been Eddie. The sickly sweet scent drifted her way. 
She walked up the steps onto the porch. The smoke burst out of Cal’s mouth.
Aly pulled away from Cal. “It’s not what it looks like. I was cold—” A nervous twitter came out.
Cal looked at her with a silly grin. “Sorry Rain—ee.”
Cal’s calling her ‘Rainey’ jolted Drew into her mind. She would never catch Drew smoking pot with his arm around Aly. Never.
“Get educated… the missionary.” He held the joint out to her.
She spun and jogged down the steps. Oh God. 
If Cal was any kind of a man, he’d come after her. He’d said he loved her, after all.  She heard uneven steps behind her and refused to turn around. She wouldn’t make it easy for him. What he did was wrong. At this moment she didn’t know if she felt anything for him.
“Raine!” Aly breathed hard. “Wait. I’m s-sorry! I was telling you the truth. I was cold, so Cal put his arm around me. He loves you. Even if I wish it were otherwise.”
She realized Aly was high or she wouldn’t have said so much. So, Aly had feelings for Cal. She shouldn’t be surprised. They were best friends. 
“I forgive you, Aly. Cal was the one who came and got you, it’s his fault.”
Aly limped beside her now. “He only got me because he knew you wouldn’t smoke a joint. He’s stressed… because he’s afraid he won’t live up to your expectations, his parents’.”
“He sure didn’t live up to my expectations tonight.” She folded her arms tightly across her waist. She walked soundlessly across the dirt road to the cabin. Aly stumbled after her.
Aly slumped onto the bottom bunk, her shoulders quaking with silent sobs.
She handed Aly the tissue box, patted her back without enthusiasm. 
“I’m so sorry, so sorry… sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered. How much of Aly’s remorse was brought on by the marijuana? She felt cynical for thinking it. Finally, Aly stilled, and she helped her climb up the ladder onto her bunk.
She fell back on her pillow. Hadn’t she asked God if Cal was the one? Could the answer be much clearer? 
Right now she could spit in Cal’s face.

#

Cal watched Raine’s back moving away from him, but his body felt heavy, like he couldn’t stand up. Aly had gone, he could feel the night air cooling his arm, his side, where Aly’s body had been warm. It was like a dream, Raine coming around the corner of the laundry when he was lit up—with an arm around Aly. 
He should run after her. Beg her forgiveness. She would expect it. 
Screw everyone’s expectations. 
He took another hit from the joint. He closed his eyes blocking out the picture of Raine’s disgust. He took another long drag. Peace soaked into his pores.
“Cal.”
His eyes clicked open like the lens of a camera.
Jesse stood there, haloed by yellow light from a distant cabin.
It was too late to hide the scent that hung in the airless night. A thread of smoke curled from the cup of his hand. 
“What are you thinking, Cal? You know the rules.” Jesse shoved his boot onto the bottom step. “Jake told me you’d be a liability, but I said Triple S would be good for you.”
Cal’s mind slogged through Jesse’s words. “I have connected with God.”
“Smoking weed? Right.”
 “Give me a chance. I love this place—” 
“Maybe you should have thought about doing what it takes to stay here for the summer.” 
“Come on, Jess. I swear I won’t smoke again.”
 “I promised Jake. We’ve got two hundred kids to think about.”
“But what about Raine? I’m telling you, I love this girl. If you ditch me, I’ll lose her. She’s helping me hook up with God.”
Jesse shook his head. “It kills me to do it, but… pack your things. I want you gone in the morning.” He dragged his foot off the step and turned away.
Cal spat a word Jesse would never use.
Jesse whipped around. “Think about someone besides yourself for once. You think it’s easy busting your own brother? Grow up, Cal. Be thankful I’m not calling the police.” 
Cal sat there unmoving. He listened to the sound of Jesse’s boots against the dirt as he walked away. Crickets chirped under the porch. The joint was warm in his hand. He took a long pull and rubbed it out on the plank floor.

Chapter 19

The sun sizzled the tidewater inching up the beach like the anger boiling inside Raine. She had tried to keep an open mind. Most adults drank alcohol. But drugs? She wanted to scream at Cal. Shake him. He had jeopardized everything between them. And she wasn’t even going to think about Cal and Aly. 
She refused to date anyone who did drugs. Period. No way would she risk loving another addict. It rankled that now, in the middle of her fury, she agreed with Drew’s opinion of Eddie. She’d lived with shadows too long. She couldn’t stop loving Eddie. But Cal, she’d only known for seven weeks.
She looked down the beach. Drew strode toward her. Odd. They mostly stayed out of each other’s way in the mornings. He’d walked half-way to the jetty to find her.
Drew stopped in front of her. He took a deep breath and gripped her arms. “Jesse caught Cal smoking pot last night and fired him.”
She could feel the blood draining from her face. Over Drew’s shoulder clouds tumbled across the sky. A gull squawked. The morning breeze puffed through her hair and she felt like she would tip over if Drew let go. 
Equilibrium crept back into her body.
She clenched her fists trying to hang onto the anger, but it ran through her fingers like tepid seawater, leaving only loss. “I saw him smoking. But all I could think about was how mad I was, not whether he’d get kicked out.” The news spiraled through her. Gone. No longer in the classroom next to hers. Not in the dining hall. Not at campfire.
Then, the tears came. Cal had cut himself off from her.
Drew held her while the sun beat down on them. He pulled tissues from his pocket and stuffed them into her hand. When her tears were spent, she stood still, her forehead resting on Drew’s chest, soaking up his comfort, not wanting to break the contact. She sighed and stepped away. 
They walked back watching the gulls careen and pirouette over waves turned into a thousand tiny knives. Like Drew, the beauty was a balm. She stepped in the footprints she’d left on her way out to the jetty. She appreciated Drew’s silence, his recognizing nothing he could say would make this better.
At the fire pit, she stopped, new tears welling up. All her prayers for Cal lay in the ashes, still wet from the dousing of last night’s fire. Cal needed campfire more than anyone. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t be going to church. He wouldn’t be looking for God anymore. Campfire, like camp itself and a relationship with her, was a cost Cal didn’t count when he lit that joint.
She let out a ragged breath and looked up at Drew. His eyes had absorbed her sadness. 
She opened her fist and held out the soggy tissues Drew had given her. “Came prepared, I see.” 
The sadness submerged under the familiar twinkle in his eyes. “I didn’t want you blowing your nose on my shirt. It’s my last clean one, and I want it to last all day.”
A smile crept out she didn’t know she had. She threaded an arm around his waist and squeezed. “Thanks.”

#

Drew glanced at Rainey as she walked beside him on the road toward camp. The pines dappled the sun on her skin. Rainey was quiet now, her tears over Cal’s ejection from camp spent.
Rainey was obviously in love with Cal or she wouldn’t be so upset. She’d cried as though her heart were breaking. He was an idiot for thinking she would fall for him because Cal disappeared.
That stupid dream. He needed to do something to wipe away the effects of the dream. There was just something wrong with dreaming about a girl who was in love with someone else. 

#

Raine’s last class had cleared out. She sat at her desk and let her eyelids drop over her burning eyes. Crying was cathartic, but she could do without the side effects.
“Raine?” Aly poked her head through the door. “Got a minute?”
She shrugged. She didn’t know what to think of Aly after last night’s drugged apology. 
“Did you hear?”
She nodded.
Aly walked across the room and sunk down on the table top across from her. “I’m taking you to Frozen Gold for ice cream.” She held up her hand to stop Raine from saying anything. “It’s the least I can do.”
“You can’t undo last night.” 
“I know it doesn’t look like it, but your friendship means a lot to me.”
She hesitated. Why was Aly doing this?
Aly stood and motioned with her head. “Come on. I encouraged you to drink. I ridiculed your faith. I fell for your guy. Why wouldn’t you want to go for ice cream with me?” Aly cocked her head, a wry grin tugging at one corner of her mouth.
There was something about Aly that wrapped around her heart. She stood. “Well, when you put it that way.”
At the ice cream shop, she took a second bite of Rocky Road. Heaven. Aly had come up with the perfect olive branch.
Aly leaned toward her across the table. “My life is a relational train wreck—my dad, my sister, guys. I want to make our friendship work—if you’ll let me.” Aly stirred the mint chocolate chip mush she’d created in her dish. “This is the first time I’ve been separated from Electra, my best friend. I didn’t realize how much she influenced me—and not for good.” 
“Why hasn’t she stopped by to visit?”
“She’s p.o.’d with me for taking an internship at a religious camp. This is the longest fight we’ve had.”
Raine lifted her brows. Did Aly want to rescue her friendship with Electra?
Aly flicked her wrist, shoving away her unspoken question. “The point is you’re good for me. You’ve got me thinking about a career, about not needing a guy to make me a whole person… maybe a little bit about religion.”
She sat back with a thump. “All that?”
“Well, and maybe that sex before marriage is a real bad idea—contrary to Electra’s opinion.”
“Wow!” She dropped her spoon into her empty sundae dish. “And I thought you only tolerated me.”
Aly sobered. She pushed her half-eaten ice cream away. “I haven’t always been nice to you.” Aly looked down and back up. “But you’ve only been kind to me. It’s almost like you like me.”
“Aly, I do like you. You remind me of a pixie who’s gotten herself all wound up in a ball of yarn and can’t get free.”
“I’m whacked. Got that right. And how do I get free?” 
“Jesus—”
Aly held her spoon up. “Wait. Can we save this for another day? I know I owe you after being caught with Cal—I swear nothing went on, ever—but I don’t want to argue today.”
That was one promise she’d collect on. Maybe she had the stuff to make a missionary, after all. She could almost be thankful for Cal’s pushing over the first domino that brought her and Aly to this point.

#

Aly scanned the waves looking for Cal’s thick shoulders hunched over a board. She’d seen his station wagon parked between the dunes and the road, crammed full of his stuff. A sleeping bag and pillow wedged into the back end as though he’d spent the last two nights since he left camp sleeping in his car.
Her fingers gripped the neon pink board under her arm as the water churned around her ankles. Cal had bought her the board second-hand years ago—a steal because of its color. But today, she wished Cal wouldn’t be able to spot the pink at two hundred yards. If he’d wanted to see her, he would have answered her calls or texts.
Squinting at the dozen or so surfers bobbing across the horizon, she dropped her board onto the water. One of the surfers turned and paddled away from her. Cal. Had to be. Well, he wasn’t paddling to Europe, and there was nowhere to go but back to shore.
As she came up on him she could see his sullen expression gazing out to sea, ignoring her. She stroked double-armed, the way he’d taught her.
She sat up. “Cal—”
Cal held his hand up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine. But you can’t drop off the face of the earth. I was worried about you. Missy’s a mess. Jesse looks like someone ran over his Taylor guitar. Your parents have got to be worried. Raine—”
Cal’s gaze locked onto her.
“Raine’s confused.” Aly cupped her hand to shade her eyes. “Is it so hard to imagine people care about you?”
“Like Jesse cared about me, kicking me out of camp at the first offense.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”
“If you came out here to fight with me—”
“I came to see if you’re okay.” 
His eyes were bloodshot. Was it from the salt water or had he been drinking and smoking weed for two days straight?
“I’m fine. I lost my job. Raine. I’ve got squat. Yeah, I’m fine.” 
“Give Raine credit. She’s not giving up on you because of one incident. I told her there’s nothing between us.” She reached for his forearm. 
He looked at her hand on his arm, then up at her eyes.
“I’m on your side.”
Cal pulled his arm out of her grip. “Big of you since you should have gotten canned, too.”
She folded her arms over her stomach where it felt like he kicked her. She bounced in the waves, vacillating between surfing for shore and trying to reach Cal. 
“I told Jesse I was smoking with you.”
Cal narrowed his eyes at her.
“He said nobody caught me, not to let it happen again. Do you want me to quit to prove I support you? Is that what you want?”
“I want… I want you to leave me alone.”
Why didn’t he just slap her across the face to make sure she stayed away? It didn’t matter. That’s what she felt like anyway.
“I’ll leave you alone… if you’ll promise me you won’t do anything to hurt yourself.”
He stared at her like she’d insulted him. She could feel the sun scorching her shoulders. She’d forgotten to put on sunscreen. Water lapped against her board and her knees.
“I won’t hurt myself.”
She thought of the kid in the class between hers and Cal’s who’d died from a bad batch of Special K. “Jeremy—”
“I won’t O.D.”
She held his eyes another moment. She turned and paddled away. Hard.
What she needed right now was a perfect wave to save her dignity. She’d paddle into the curl, snap her feet under her, grip the board with her toes. She could almost feel the wind whistling through her wet hair. She’d nose the board toward shore the way Cal had taught her, knees bent, feet staggered, arms airplaning over the water.
If it weren’t for her stupid sprained ankle. 

#

Raine pushed open the screen door into the infirmary. She scanned the glass cupboards that held the medicines looking for ibuprofen. She tried the cupboard. Locked. How long till the nurse would be back from lunch? 
She sank down onto a metal folding chair. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. A text from Eddie. She set her phone on the chair beside her, took a deep breath, and picked it up.
In danger. Need $50 to buy time. Tape to bottom of camp sign before dark. Will pay back. 
The words throbbed in her skull. What kind of danger—from a drug dealer or a loan shark? Was he on the run from the police? Was he in danger of missing his next fix?
He’d never paid her back yet. What if she didn’t give him the money and he turned up dead? Could she live with that the rest of her life? 
She stared at the medicine cabinets. It would be so easy for Eddie to break in and steal the drugs he needed to cook meth. She was so tired of fearing what Eddie would do next. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Nausea settled into her stomach.
Her mind slipped from Eddie to Cal. They were so much alike, using drugs to deal with life. Her anger at Cal had cooled, and she poked around inside looking for her feelings for him. But she felt nothing. After all this time, had God answered her prayer? 
She rubbed her temples. Were love and Africa mutually exclusive? Maybe Cal would learn from this experience and fully connect with God. Yeah, and Eddie would check into rehab. 
She closed her eyes. Lord, do You have someone for me to marry?
The screen door squeaked and Raine’s eyes flew open as Drew walked in.
“What are you doing here?”
Had she fallen asleep? “Asking God who I’m supposed to marry.” Had she actually said that out loud? She stared at her toes in her new flip-flops with the pink flowers on them. Why wasn’t Drew saying anything? She looked up at him. 
He winked. “Put me on that list! Me wantum girl with strong arms. Do much work. Girl with cute feet okay, too.”
Something warm shot through her, making her head pulse harder. Was he ever serious? She held her head in her hands. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.” 
Drew sat down next to her. “I can make it better.”
He leaned toward her. Was he going to kiss her? He smiled like he could read her mind and bent to pick up the first aid box at his feet. He smelled like sunshine.  
He opened the box and shook two ibuprofen tablets into her palm. “I came by to restock my first aid kit before dodge ball.”
He ran water from the sink into a Dixie cup and handed it to her. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.”
He laid his hands on her head. “Lord, one of Your names is Physician. Would you take Rainey’s pain away—the pain in her head and the pain in her heart?” 
He rubbed her temples with his thumbs till her scalp felt warm and the pain faded a bit. His fingertips kneaded the muscles in the back of her neck. All the tension eased out of her body.
She settled her head back against the wall. If she was still, it didn’t hurt. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Drew tugged her hand. “Keep your eyes closed, you can lie on a cot till you feel better. I’ll tell the nurse you’re in here.” 
He led her into the next room, the pain resurrecting and banging around in her head with each movement. He guided her by the shoulders to the edge of the bunk. The wire webbing groaned when she sat down, and the metal frame felt cold on the backs of her legs. Drew’s hands pressed her down till her head rested in the haven of a pillow that smelled like Bounce. She curled her legs on the blanket under her and sighed. 
Pain hovered a millimeter from her skull, waiting for her to move. She could feel her flip-flops being slid off her feet and, a minute later, a feather-light blanket settling over her body. This is what it would feel like to be loved by Drew. Why did he have to tease about something as serious as marriage? What seemed like a long time later, Drew’s footsteps moved across the room. 
The key turned in the medicine cabinet in the next room. Her mind followed the click-click-click of a child-proof bottle being unscrewed, rustling plastic, the snap of the first aid box shutting. The last thing she remembered was the soft latch of the door as it closed.

Chapter 20

Aly plodded through the soft sand, limping slightly as she lugged her board under one arm. She hoped Cal wasn’t watching. Did God care about salvaging her dignity after Cal blew her off? Raine would say so, she was sure. She glanced over her shoulder.
Cal paddled to catch a wave.
He was in God’s hands now. Had she thought of God? Man, she was, like, channeling Raine. It wasn’t so much that she doubted God existed. Last count, she’d been to mass seven hundred and sixty eight times including weddings, funerals, and an odd Ash Wednesday service. But she’d long ago maxed out her sin allotment credit card. 
Maybe she could start making payments—quit sex. No time like the present. She was single. And the only guy to tempt her was Cal. And he was over her. Totally.

#

Drew stood beside Rainey where she lay on the infirmary cot. Her lips parted slightly, and she was probably asleep already. She trusted him—enough to relax under his touch. That knowledge knifed its way into his gut. Her trust was a gift.
Touching Rainey was a stolen pleasure. No doubt, the headache was brought on by her concern for Cal. But at least he’d eased her pain and tension a little. There was a job he’d like for the rest of his life. 
God?
Her dark hair spread across the pillow reminded him of the dream. And now he knew its silkiness, its flowery scent. The sleeve of her yellow blouse—the shirt from Cal’s portrait—peeked from under the flannel sheet. He turned away.  

#

Raine woke slowly in the late afternoon sun spilling through the partially open window. The emptiness of the institutional beige room seemed to climb inside her. Drew’s touch lingered, but he must have left the infirmary hours ago. Birds twittered in the coconut palms. She could see the fronds dance without moving her head. 
She creaked into a sitting position. No pain. 
Thank You. 
Eddie’s text slithered back into her mind. She hated Eddie’s demands. He expected her to give him money whenever he asked. What was the alternative? Have Eddie cut off all relationship with her? Let whatever danger loomed over him, happen? She sighed with her whole body.
At five-thirty she crouched behind a bush within sight of the camp sign. Her hurried dinner sat like a stone in her stomach. She had to try to talk Eddie into rehab.
Please, God, let Eddie show by six. Drew expected her at campfire. 
She heard the scuff of tennis shoes against the sandy dirt before she saw Eddie. He bent down to tie his shoe and peered furtively at the underside of the sign. He yanked the envelope from its hiding place and buried it in his pocket in one motion. He stood and strode toward the road.
“Wait! Eddie, it’s me.”
His eyes scanned the woods behind her, and then jumped back to her. 
“I wanted to say I’m sorry—for last time I saw you.”
“Did you give me the money?”
She nodded. “I’m begging you. Think about Teen Challenge.”
“I read the brochure.”
“You did?”
He almost smiled. “You’ve slipped me, what, ten of them by now?”
“I’ve studied meth addiction. You can’t get off by yourself.”
“I’m not wasting thirteen months of my life in that hole. I’m doing better. Really.”
“If you keep using, you’re going to end up in jail. Doesn’t getting beat up or raped scare you?”
“Look, I’m not some wussy teenager.”
She stepped close to him on the sparse grass between the camp sign and the road. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I love you.”
“You’re the only one.” He threw a bony arm over her shoulder and hugged her. “I love you, too.”
She pulled away, her fingers still on his ribs, to look at his face. 
“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.” 
She searched his eyes. He obviously believed it. If only she could.

#

Raine spit toothpaste into the sink. Even though she didn’t know what she felt for Cal, she wondered what he thought about her. If Cal was so in love with her, why hadn’t he called since he got kicked out of camp?
Aly stepped out of the shower tying the belt to her robe, her hair turbaned in a towel. 
“Have you heard from Cal since he left camp?”
Aly stopped mid-stride.
“You have, haven’t you?”
Aly slumped down onto the wooden bench under the window. Her eyes darted to Raine’s in the mirror and away.
She turned around to face Aly. 
Aly looked up at her. “I was so worried. You know, Cal’s not the most stable guy—”
“You’re afraid he’s suicidal?”
Aly shrugged. “Well, he’s not.” She looked down at her feet that were turned in, big toes touching. “I didn’t want to tell you I went looking for him because I didn’t want you to think I was going after him. I wasn’t. I swear I wasn’t. I had to make sure he was okay.”
“And?”
“And he was unpleasant—ticked at Jesse for firing him, ticked at me for hunting him down.”
“Where?”
“At his favorite surfing spot. Bethune Beach.”
“Has he been suicidal before?”
“No.” Aly rubbed her hair dry with the towel. “There’s something—I don’t know—brittle about Cal.”
She screwed the lid onto the toothpaste. She hadn’t known Cal enough to be worried. Just mad.
Aly looked at her with pleading eyes. “You and I, like, totally bonded. I would have told you, but I didn’t want to screw it up.” Her words came out in a rush.
She sat on the bench beside Aly. “It’s okay. The pot did a number on my crush. That’s how Eddie got started. I can’t— I can’t go there again.”
“Then you’re not mad?”
“If Cal loved me, don’t you think he would have called by now? It’s been a week since he got fired.”
“Give him some time to sort through things.”
She reached for Aly’s hand. “I know you love Cal. You told me the other night when you were high. It’s okay if you want to go after him.” 
“He—he loves you.”

#

Raine looked at the array of exquisitely wrapped gifts, the cakes and cookies that lined the bench on the dining hall porch. Each item was labeled, “Happy Birthday, Drew.” Why hadn’t Drew told her it was his birthday this morning on the beach?
With the nail of her pinky, she lifted the flap of one label. “With love, from Celeste.” She pulled her finger away, feeling like a spy. The sticker on the chocolate chip cookies said they were from Roni, the chocolate cake from Kayla, the vanilla from Jasmine. There must have been a dozen gifts and sweets.
Who were these women? What right did they have to shower Drew with gifts? He was her friend. Some emotion she couldn’t name churned under her ribcage. 

#

As the sun sank toward the treetops, Raine jumped off the seawall and landed with both feet in the sand. Drew didn’t see her. His sandy head bent over the fire pit as he touched a match to the kindling. 
“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”
Drew looked up at her, his light blond brows arching toward the soft waves of his hair. “Didn’t think about it.”
“I didn’t get you anything, but I want you to have this.” She pulled the bracelet she usually wore out of her pocket.
Drew stood up, and all of a sudden they were face to face. Her breath caught. The memory of his lips on hers flooded into her mind. If she raised up a little on her toes— 
“I’ve never seen you without that bracelet. It must be special to you.” 
She tugged her gaze from his and laid her gift across his palm. “That’s why I want you to have it.”  The blaze from the sunset and the fire reflected off the tiny, multicolored beads. “It was made by the kids at the orphanage where I’m going. You can use it for a bookmark in your Bible to remind you to pray for the orphans.”
“And if I want to wear it?” He closed his fingers around the beads and turned his hand over, holding his fist out to her. He dropped the bracelet back into her hand.
Her fingers fumbled against the skin on the inside of his wrist as she tied the string. 
“Guys don’t wear bows, Rainey.”
She looked up at him. His face was inches from hers. She sucked in a breath. “But you won’t be able to get it off if I knot it.”
“I don’t want to take it off.”
What was going on here? She bent her head back over his wrist and knotted the leather. She stepped back.
Drew grinned at her. “Thanks.”
She shrugged. “It’s not much. At least you got a lot of other gifts—I bet it will take you a week to write the thank yous.”
“Longer.”
She scrunched her forehead. “Why?”
“I’m not writing them.”
“Why not?”
“It will only encourage them. Call me chauvinist, but I don’t want to let one of those girls from church chase me down. I want to catch my own girl.”
She took another step away from him. “I hope you don’t think—”
“No, I don’t.”
She turned away from him. “There’s Missy.” Anything to keep Drew from seeing the red spreading across her cheeks. Missy and her cabin of girls were still a block from the seawall.
Drew caught her by the wrist. “Pray with me first.” 
“Sure.” She turned back toward him.
Before she closed her eyes, she glimpsed her tiny beads on the large hand that covered hers.

#

Raine heard the catch in Drew’s voice, how he stopped in the middle of a sentence. The kids sitting around the campfire probably didn’t notice. What had disturbed him? She scanned the shore, tree line, faces around the campfire and saw nothing that could have thrown Drew off. Then, she looked up toward the road and saw a girl backlit by the setting sun. She leaned on a pick-up truck, arms folded, feet crossed at the ankles.
Lord, help Drew focus. Let him say the words You want him to say.
As the last of the children climbed onto the seawall, the girl walked toward them. Her honey-brown hair was cut bluntly at her shoulders. She wore a Daytona State College T-shirt and spandex athletic shorts that emphasized the toned muscles of her legs. She hiked through the sand toward them.
“Hey, Drew. I got your e-mail. Thought I’d stop by when I was in town to visit Mother.”
Drew looked at the girl for a long moment without smiling, so unlike him. She felt the tension crackle between Drew and the girl. 
Finally, his gaze left Sam, and he glanced at her. “This is my good friend, Rainey. Sam.”
Raine sucked in a breath. The Sam. 
“Actually, I go by Samantha now.” The girl smiled at her, a smile she would have liked if it came from anyone else.
“And I’ve always gone by Raine.” She smiled wryly at Drew. “Go ahead. I’ll wait for Jesse to get here.” The girl in Drew’s wallet was seventeen with only hints of the polished beauty she’d be at twenty-four. No wonder she hadn’t recognized Samantha. She needed to get a grip. This was good for Drew. He’d been in love with Samantha since he was eighteen. 
Drew put another log on the fire and looked back at her. “You’ll be okay here alone?”
She looked up sharply. She knew what Drew was asking—whether Eddie was a threat. “I had a good talk with Eddie before campfire.” She shooed him away with her hands. “I can hear the kids coming up the road already.”
Drew stood as though there was something else he wanted to say to her. But he turned and walked with Samantha toward the seawall. Samantha locked her truck and tossed her sneakers into the back. She watched them stroll toward the jetty in the rosy half light.
He’d e-mailed Samantha, like she suggested. And Samantha must be interested or she wouldn’t have shown up.
God, I…. She didn’t know what to pray. 
Of course an athletic girl would be better for Drew than— What was she thinking? 
A handful of boys batted an empty water bottle around. A girl’s high pitched laughter arced over the group. But she could only think about the pain digging into her side like she’d run too far and needed to grab hold of the muscle till the hurt subsided. 

#

Drew hadn’t been prepared for the shock of seeing Sam again, or Samantha, as she kept reminding him. He had hoped for an e-mail, not a personal visit. And Sam wore the Daytona State College T-shirt he’d bought for her eighteenth birthday.
“…managing a gym in Flagler,” she was saying. “I graduated, and stayed.”
“I teach science at New Smyrna Beach High, thinking about moving to Africa to direct a children’s choir.” What made him say that? He hadn’t told anyone but Jesse what he was praying about.
Sam stopped in the magenta light. “Wow.” She shook her head like she was trying to take it in. “Wow.” She started walking again. 
The surf churned at his feet like the conflicting emotions inside. He’d memorized everything about her. Now the lens seemed out of focus. Her leggy coltishness had matured into sleek confidence. Part of him wanted to take her in his arms and see if she tasted the same—like cotton candy and fresh peppermint.
Part of him saw her as a stranger. But then, something would remind him of the Sam he knew—the way she shrugged one shoulder, the tiny chip between her bottom teeth. 
“Do you still hide from the sun? Like to eat hot and cold foods together? Collect change in the bottom of your purse till it weighs five pounds?”
“Yes!” She laughed her full, throaty laugh. “And do you still get up at the crack of dawn? Do you like ham and pineapple pizza? Wear flip-flops in the winter?”
“All but the flip-flops.” 
Quiet settled over them. In his gut, he could feel the knot of bitterness flesh had grown over. Seeing her lanced it open. This might be the only opportunity he had to ask the question that had tortured him all these years. “Why did you leave me, Sam? I thought… I thought if you hadn’t transferred to Flagler, we might have gotten back together.” His voice sounded hoarse in his ears.
“I was afraid I’d go back to you if I didn’t move away.”
He could feel the pus oozing out—dirty white like foam on the water. “And would that have been so awful?” His breath stopped.
“No.” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it.
The froth dissipated, picking up the fuchsia and lavender of the sunset. 
“I knew I wasn’t mature enough to give you what you needed. Commitment.” 
She raked fingers through her straight hair, leaving it mussed, reminding him of how she used to be. Did the hair at the nape of her neck still curl in tiny ringlets? 
“Daytona State is a small school. We would run into each other like we did all second semester—for the rest of college.” She stopped and turned toward him. “Every time I saw you, there was agony in your eyes…”
His lips flattened. “A mercy transfer.”
“You haven’t lost your dry wit.” Sam looked out to sea. “By the time I felt like committing, there was no one worth committing to.”
Something tried to take flight in his chest like a pelican with tar on its wings. They were at the jetty now. Drew folded his arms and leaned against a slab of rock facing her. “Why are you here, Sam?”
“Samantha.” She shrugged one shoulder the way he’d always found so endearing. She looked at her sand-caked toes, and back at his eyes. “Why did you e-mail?”
He shoved off the slab. Because Rainey’s in love with Cal. “I…. Are you happy?” He looked back at her, and she followed him.
She nodded. “So, what’s this about Africa?”
Sam must be as uncomfortable as he was to change the subject so abruptly. He told her about the Africa Cries possibility. Would she consider…? He couldn’t read her anymore. Did he want to try again?
Music floated toward them from the campfire. They walked up to the circle and stood in the shadows listening. 
Jesse led the group, “Touch Your fingers to the broken things inside. I open up to You, my Healer, my Redeemer, and my Friend….” 
Please, Lord, I’ve carried this bitterness way too long. 
Sam looked at him as though she could read his thoughts like she used to. He moved away, not wanting her to glimpse the wound she’d uncovered, not wanting her to know he still carried her picture in his wallet.
She stopped beside the truck bathed in moonlight and turned toward him. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” Tears glistened in her eyes, and he realized how deeply she meant the words. He’d only seen her cry once, when her Grandma died. Sam shook her head back and forth. “I hated hurting you.” She spread her hands out helplessly. “What else could I have done?” 
Drew couldn’t help it, he was going on emotion now. He pulled her into his arms and held her, breathing in memories, breathing out forgiveness. “Thanks, for that, Sam.” His voice was thick in his throat. 
He released her, and she turned away from him, dashing a tear away. She grabbed her shoes from out of the truck bed and reached for the truck handle. 
All of a sudden he didn’t want her to leave. “Would you…” He dove like a cliff diver--jettisoned by gusts of the past, “Would you ever consider… Africa?” Me.
She shot him a flirty smile. “I’m all grown up now, Drew.” She slipped into the truck and shut the door.
It wasn’t until her tail lights disappeared around the corner he realized what she meant. She was ready to commit. She’d give him another shot if he wanted it. 
A car pulled onto the sandy berm where the road bent with the coast. He looked up as the engine cut off. Cal.

Chapter 21

Behind Raine the Atlantic churned. Above the campfire flames, she had a straight shot at Drew and Samantha standing beside Sam’s truck. The words of Jesse’s prayer spilled water for her soul onto the sand. She should close her eyes and drink—but they were dry and stuck open like the last time she had insomnia. 
Drew reached for Sam in the moonlight, folding her in his arms. Something twisted inside Raine. She knew what Drew’s embrace felt like. Confusion spun through her. What did she feel for Drew? Lord? Did it matter what she felt if Drew and Samantha were getting back together? Drew’s feelings were obvious. He’d carried Samantha’s picture in his wallet for six years. Samantha’s showing up in response to his e-mail could only mean she wanted to try again. Who wouldn’t? 
Her phone vibrated against her hip bone radiating dread through her body. Was it Eddie? She squeezed her eyes shut and strained toward Jesse’s prayer. 
“We surrender the things weighing us down. Help us put them in Your hands and leave them there. Amen.”
She flipped open her phone. Cal. His text said he was waiting by his car at the bend in the road. Goose bumps rose on her skin.
As she walked toward Cal, he pushed off his car and met her. “I’m sorry, Raine. Will you forgive me?” Shower-damp hair brushed his shoulders. His eyes pled with her in the moonlight, dark pools of remorse. 
She wanted to touch his chest to make sure he was really there. She stared at him, looking for the Cal she knew. She breathed in the familiar citrus scent while her heartbeat hammered in her ears. And then her anger woke up.
“Sorry for being two weeks late with your apology? For getting high? Or for groping Aly?”
He winced. “I can’t believe you used that word.” He shook his head. “Aly was cold. Come on, Raine, Aly and I are as good as siblings.”
Raine stared hard at him. He had no idea Aly was in love with him.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m not the one who came looking for Aly at two in the morning, hours after you said you loved me. I’m not the one getting happy with an illegal substance. I’m not the one who broke off all communication.”
Cal dropped his head. He spoke staring down at the sand covered pavement. “The pressure… I knew I had to be the Christian you wanted me to be, the one my folks expect me to be… the one I should be.” He looked up. “I needed a break from the stress. And Aly smokes, you don’t. I didn’t think about how you’d read it. I didn’t think.”
“Obviously.”
“Raine, I love you.” He grabbed her hands. “I thought I’d totally screwed it up with you, there was no point in trying to fix it. But I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to see you.” 
“Couldn’t you have had enough faith in me to hear you out?”
He looked down at their hands. “I guess I shut down.”
She stared at the part in his hair where it veered off at his crown.
He met her eyes. “I’m begging your forgiveness.” 
She took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t understand, but I forgive you.”
Cal’s eyes sheened with dampness as he stared at her. Then he wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Thank you,” he said into her hair.
She could hear the kids trooping back to camp, the hiss of the fire being doused. Beside them, the saw-grass bent in the breeze. She tottered between letting him have his moment and gently pushing him away. The feelings were gone. Amazing.
“I’ve missed you so much. I promise I won’t shut down on you again.”
She eased out of his arms. “I can’t date someone who does drugs.” 
“I’m not some kind of monster. It’s recreational. I’m not chained to them.” He held his hands out toward her. “Look, I’ve only smoked a couple of times this summer. That’s all. I’ll quit. It’s not a big deal.”
“What about the last two weeks since you got fired?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Cal’s jaw clenched.
Drew walked from the seawall down the road toward camp. She recognized his long stride, the familiar span of his shoulders. The picture of Drew holding Sam flitted through her mind.
Cal jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “The first time I met you, I pegged you as one of those legalists—locked up in a box of rules so tight you couldn’t see the real world. But I found out you’re open-minded when I got to know you. You don’t spout platitudes or go with the religious herd.”
His gaze bored into her. “Give me another chance.”
“I… I can’t.” 
The pain that flashed through Cal’s eyes knifed her before he masked it with anger.
“I’ll never measure up to your standards. I hoped for a little grace here.” He stared hard at her for a moment, anger radiating from his body like summer heat off asphalt. He got into his car and slammed the door. Sand and shell fragments rifled her legs as he peeled out.

#

“The job is yours if you want it.” Owen Delsen shook Drew’s hand across the dining hall table.
Drew smiled. “Thanks for your confidence in me. I’ll get back to you soon.”  He watched the choir director’s uneven gait as he moved across the plank floor. Delsen pulled an Africa Cries baseball cap from his back pocket and slipped it onto his silver head as he passed through the double doors.
Did he want the job? Probably. But what were his motivations? Yeah, he’d like working with music every day. He enjoyed kids of all ages. He’d miss his family, but he’d be in the states six months a year. Kurt would want him to take the job. And Rainey was going to Africa. Maybe she colored everything for him. That’s why he didn’t give Delsen an answer. He wanted to be sure this was a step God wanted him to take.
The choir would be performing tonight. Maybe he’d get a clearer sense of what his answer should be. Their show last summer had rocked him. God probably planted the seed for this job back then.

#

Raine grabbed the two letters out of her mail slot. Neither had a stamp. She opened the top envelope and unfolded the piece of art paper. The first thing she saw was a mini sketch of her portrait done in pencil. Below, Cal had written, Your face is etched on my soul, and I’ll never be the same again. I’m sorry we parted in anger. I love you, Cal.
The force of Cal’s anger last night swept out the last crumbs of her crush. But it had been the most real glimpse she’d had of him. Her hope that Cal would go to Africa seemed ridiculous now. The three screened sides of the enclosed porch boxed her in, but she was free, freer than she’d been all summer. 
The bold scrawl on the second envelope said, “Rainey.” She tapped the envelope against her palm. Why would Drew write to her when they saw each other three or four times a day?
She pulled out the card. “Thank You,” was embossed in gold script across the front. She smiled to herself. The card was too large to have come in a package of eight. Drew must have gone to the card shop to pick it out. Inside, the card was blank except for Drew’s note.
Thanks, Rainey, for the reminder to pray for Africa. Only you would come up with a gift that involved work! Just teasing. I like the bracelet. Almost as well as the apple juice sweetened carob chip cookies. Seriously, I’ll pray for you, too. 
Drew
It was a friendly note, and Samantha was back in the picture. But she couldn’t help smiling. At least he wasn’t thanking any of the other women who gave him gifts—unless Sam gave him a gift. Even that thought couldn’t wipe out the warm feeling under her ribs.

#

Drew walked through the gym doors and yanked his rain poncho over his head. He hung it on a nail while he scanned the room. “Yo, Rainey?”
“Up here!” Her voice filtered through the pounding of the rain.
She stood on the balcony beside the projector. He jogged up the steps. “Jesse said you were in charge tonight.” He wiped the rain off his face with the front of his shirt. “I came early to pray for you.” 
And, if he was honest, for the chance to see her. This morning on the beach she acted funny, like she had to keep her distance because Sam had shown up.
“I’m only introducing the choir.” Her eyes sparkled in the light from the halogen lamps. She had on one of those flowered shirts she favored, pink tonight, and jeans. Her feet were bare. “Have you seen the Africa Cries kids before?”
“Last summer.”
“Then, why am I introducing them?”
He cracked a smile. “Because you love Africa.”
He held his hand out to her, palm up. “Let’s pray.” 
She smiled and put her hand in his. He breathed in her scent, something clean and green smelling. “Lord, please give Rainey the words to convince all the little monsters to watch the choir.”
Rainey stifled a giggle. “Please touch everyone here tonight with the kids. May it be powerful. Thanks.”
Rainey opened her eyes inches from his. All he could think about was kissing her. He’d been closer than this to Sam last night and hadn’t felt this way. 
She started to move away, but he held on. Rainey’s brows arched. He couldn’t think of a reason to keep holding her hand. He opened his palm, but she didn’t move away for a heartbeat. Something quivered in his chest.
Rainey said something about arranging the chairs and headed down the steps. He followed. His mind flicked to Sam as though someone had reset his inner compass overnight. He grabbed a chair at the opposite end of the gym from Rainey and unfolded it. What had he expected when he e-mailed Sam? He hadn’t thought ahead. He’d acted out of frustration over Rainey and Cal. But Sam’s coming brought a peace he hadn’t had since they broke up. 
He spent a lot of time thanking God this morning. And realizing he’d been oblivious to his bitterness all these years. 
Rainey said something, but he couldn’t hear her over the rain. He cupped his hand behind his ear.
“You and Sam getting back together?” Rainey shouted.
Drew stopped where he was in the middle of a row and walked back to Rainey. “I don’t know.” He grabbed a chair off the cart.
“How can you not know?” 
“I’m praying about it.”
“Don’t you feel anything?” Rainey touched her breastbone with her fingers.
He planted his hands on the chair back. “Relief. Freedom from the bitterness. Gratitude that she came.”
“You know what I mean. You’ve carried her picture in your wallet all these years—”
“I wish you didn’t know that.”
“Why? It’s a symbol of loyalty.”
“Or stupidity.”
Rainey’s brows shot up. “Or faithfulness to what God told you.” 
Something else he wished he hadn’t told Rainey. He took the next chair off the cart. “I don’t want to talk about this now.”
Rainey slapped a chair seat down between them like a wall.
“Hey, don’t take it personally. I have a lot of thinking to do about Sam, and I don’t think well out loud.” He nudged her chin up with his knuckle. “I’ll let you know when I know, okay?”
“Sure.”

#

As the choir director’s prayer lengthened, Raine moved her fingers to twist the beads on her bracelet and felt her empty wrist. Her eyes popped open and she remembered Drew wore her bracelet now. 
She gave a quick glance at the kids sitting around her. God must have answered Drew’s prayer because the kids had quieted by the time the halogen lights dimmed to black. She peeked at the choir director where he stood on the stage washed in white projector light. He pushed his luck praying so long.  
She breathed a sigh of relief when the Africa Cries Mission video started rolling. She glanced at Drew where he sat in the side section of the gym. He said he didn’t know what he was going to do about Sam, but she knew. Drew would ask Sam to give it another try. They would fall back into old habits, fall back into the way things were supposed to be all those years ago, fall back into love.
Last night she dreamed she stood on a foreign tarmac under a colorless sky. Wind tossed the palm fronds to right angles at the edge of the runway. Drew’s face bent close to hers. She lifted her chin for his kiss, but the wind whipped at their hair and clothing, pulling them apart till she was moving up the metal steps to the plane, smashed into an inchworm of human bodies. At the door to the plane, she jerked her head around for a glimpse of Drew. He stood with an arm around Samantha, waving good-bye. 
She woke up in the dark thinking it had happened. It seemed so real. Even now, she still ached for Drew’s kiss. 
She focused on the children as they walked onto the stage one by one and introduced themselves in precise African accented English. As the gym lights came up, their honey brown skin shone. Their wiry hair cropped short, the girls wore dresses and the boys matching African printed shirts and pants. She was mesmerized.
She had worried needlessly about the campers’ behavior. She expected the choir to sing, but they danced through every song—fluid with the beat of a djembe drum. Their smiles warmed her heart while their voices arced and soared around gym.
The director had the audience stand to sing and dance with the children. All around her the campers jumped and twirled awkwardly between their giggles. She glanced toward Drew. He hopped up and down with his head tilted first to one side, then the other in time to the music—totally unself-conscious. She stilled and watched him as the song came to an end. In that moment something deep within her reached across the aisle and bonded with him.

#

The concert ended—too soon. As the halogen lights warmed up, Drew scrubbed his face dry with his hands. He hadn’t realized he was crying. The stories of the children wove into his heart—the black-skinned boy who had been abducted to fight in a guerilla army, the brother and sister who had been raised by an old woman in their village after their parents died until she could no longer feed them, the small boy who said with a loud voice that Jesus had brought him to Africa Cries Mission.  
Inside, his gut ached. What, Lord? What do You want me to do? He could sponsor a child for thirty-five dollars a month. He could write a check to Africa Cries to help with the orphanage upkeep and expansion. Or he could accept the job offer. 
He filed out with the campers into the string of African children lined up by the door. A girl about seven gave him a big smile and wrapped her arms around his neck when he bent down to thank her for coming. The next girl looked at the floor and offered him a shy hand. The boy named Josef, with one arm tucked behind his back, shook Drew’s hand with gusto. 
He ducked out of line and slipped through the door into the night. He couldn’t meet any more children. He could barely hold it together until he got to the tree line where no one would hear him. The contrast of their tragic stories and their wide smiles had shredded his emotions. 
He sank down on his knees beside a bench in the outdoor classroom. Canopied by pines, he wept. The faces from the video of hundreds of children sleeping in train stations and under hospitals flooded his mind. He hadn’t cried like this since he was a kid. 
Finally, the wave of emotion crashed and receded. He could feel sweat forming in his armpits. The rain had ended and heat hung in the moist air. 
He’d been praying about Africa all summer. Was it a coincidence the choir broke his heart hours after he’d been offered the director’s job? No. He was certain God pointed him to Africa Cries. Sam and Rainey balled confusion in his chest, but he’d go find Owen Delsen and tell him he’d take the job. 

#

Raine stacked the chairs on the racks at the side of the gym. She could call the teen boys’ counselor and he’d bring his cabin back to help, but she wanted to be alone. 
She’d never been to Africa, but God brought Africa to her in the beautiful brown-skinned children bursting with talent and love. Thanks. God had been kind to her. Tonight she felt His benediction on her longing to go to Africa. She would go.

Chapter 22

Aly knocked on the outside garage door where Cal said she could find him. She told him it was an emergency—hers. She didn’t want him thinking this had to do with Raine. She did need Cal. He was her best friend.
No answer. She could see light coming from around the door. She twisted the knob, and the door gave way. Heavy metal music pulsated from a paint-splattered boom box. Cal sat on the foot of an open sofa bed, his back to her. He faced Raine’s portrait propped against a ten-speed bike. 
She stepped around the boxes stacked on the grease-stained cement and looked at Cal. He stared blankly at the portrait. Was he high? He looked up at her when she stepped into his field of vision. 
She turned the music down. “Raine told me about the other day. I’m sorry.” 
His jaw clenched under the coarse, brown stubble. “What’s your emergency?”
She sank down beside him on the bare, fold-out mattress. “I—I think I’m pregnant.”
He looked at her, his expression losing some of the sullenness. “What are you going to do?” His voice was flat.
“I don’t know.” She lay back on the mattress, blowing all the air out of her lungs. “I did the math today.” A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.
Cal looked down at her. Self-pity and compassion warred in his face. He dropped onto one elbow beside her. “I’m sorry, Al.” He wiped away the tear with his finger. The tenderness he scraped from somewhere deep inside made her want to cry even more. 
Cal gathered her to him with one arm and held her while she swallowed the tears in her throat.
She let out a ragged sigh.
“Hey, it’s not a contest. You didn’t have to come up with bigger issues than I’ve got.” Cal lay back leaving his arm around her shoulders.
She gave him a smile that was not a smile. 
“Your love language is touch, did you ever realize that? That’s how you give and receive love. That’s why you—”
“Say it. That’s why I sleep with guys.” She squeezed her eyes shut, but tears leaked out the corners running across the bridge of her nose and into her hair.
Cal dropped his free arm over her, and she curled into him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Come on, don’t cry.” 
“All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to hold me like you’re holding me now.”
“You haven’t had a dad since you were seven. Of course, you’re going to go looking for what you missed.”
The truth of his words soaked into her spirit, and she cried. Silent sobs racked her body. 
When she looked up at Cal, there were tears on his cheeks—for Raine, she was sure. Somehow, that was okay. She snuggled her nose against Cal’s scratchy neck. There was no place she would rather be. 
“We could, you know…” she drew circles on his chest with her finger, “comfort each other.” Her words were muffled against the neck of Cal’s T-shirt.
Cal didn’t say anything, didn’t move. It felt like he stopped breathing for a moment.
“It was a dumb idea. Forget I said it.” She started to roll away.
Cal held on. “Stay here. Let me hold you. You don’t need another guy to use you right now.”
She relaxed against him.
“I told Raine you and I were like siblings, but—” Cal pulled away a little so he could see her face. Skin bunched under his chin. “That’s not quite right, is it?”

#

Raine slid into Drew’s truck while he held the door he’d unlocked for her. Through the windshield she could see Jesse stoking the fire for the teen campfire. A residue of orange lay on the horizon. 
The glow from the dashboard bathed Drew’s cheekbones, bringing out his strong jaw. She shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t a date. Drew had reconciled with Sam by now for all she knew. He certainly couldn’t read anything into stopping by her folks’ to pick up her mail. She shook her head slightly to dispel the pull she felt. She could have ridden her bike, but she’d been on edge about Eddie for days.
Drew pulled into her driveway and she jumped out of the truck before he could think of coming around to open her door. 
She kissed her mother, breathing in the scent of Happy a second before Antoine galumphed across the room and nearly knocked her over with his huge paws on her shoulders. 
“Down!” She pushed him off her, but not before he slimed her cheek. “Yuck. Say hi to Drew, why don’t you?”
Drew came in the door after her. “Hey.”
Antoine skittered across the wood floor and hid behind Dad’s recliner. 
“You big sissy.” Drew laughed. 
“Stopping by for my mail.” She bent over and pressed her cheek to Dad’s forehead—doing the expected. 
She grabbed her stack of envelopes off the hall table, half listening to her father talking to Drew. Florida Christian College Alumni Newsletter, two credit card offers, bingo! She held up the envelope from the mission organization.
“What have you got there, Raine?” Dad peered at her over the reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. The newspaper rattled in his lap.
If there was any way around it, she wouldn’t tell him. “Teaching contract for Africa.” 
Dad sat forward, causing the footrest to thump down against the chair as his feet hit the floor. “Don’t sign it.”
She bit on the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling. “I’m twenty-two. I’ve already given my verbal agreement. And I don’t need your permission.” She kept her gaze from Drew. She didn’t want reminded of their discussion.
“That’s true, legally speaking. But I am still your authority spiritually.”
“You want to control me.”
“I want to keep you safe. Your well-being is my responsibility before God. If you were married—that would be different.”
She blew a puff of air through her lips. “I’ve got someone who wants to marry me.”
Mom and Dad both looked at Drew. 
For a fraction of a second Drew registered shock, before the familiar tease pulled across his face like a window shade. “Rainey, I—”
“Not Drew.” She waved away whatever it was Drew was going to say. “I should go ahead and marry the guy—no matter how unsuited he is for mission work.” And I don’t love him! “Would you be happy then?”
Her father shook his head, and she saw how white the stripe down his part had gotten. “Of course, I don’t want you to marry someone solely as a means to get to Africa. But I can’t give my blessing for you to go as a single woman.”
She was still boiling inside, but her father seemed almost sad. Sad and granite.
“We have to get back.” She hugged her mother, one last breath of Happy, and walked out the door. She fumed in the truck for another five minutes till Drew ambled out the front door.
“What took you so long?”
Drew smirked. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
 She threw her arms up. “I wish I were a guy—”
“I don’t.” Drew eased the truck into the intersection and accelerated.
She ignored him. “Dad wants everyone to know he’s still king of his mountain.”
Drew pulled into a space at Old Fort Park. “Out!”
“You’re kicking me out?” Her mouth dropped open.
“You’re going to walk around the park until you get the anger out of your system. Then, we’re going to talk.”
“About?”
He leaned across her and opened the door. She felt the pressure of his arm against her. “Marriage.”

#

Cal startled awake. It took a moment for him to realize where he was. He stared at the bare bulb overhead while his mind cleared. Cody’s garage. He felt a weight on his arm and saw Aly curled into him in sleep. He hadn’t gotten loaded and— No. They were both fully clothed. He relaxed.
He looked at her pale lashes resting on her cheek, her honey rose lips slightly parted in sleep. It was the face he’d fallen in love with at seventeen, the face he’d painted at eighteen. And now she offered herself to him. Ironic because he had fallen in love with Raine—beautiful, impossible-to-please Raine who served a beautiful, impossible-to-please God.
Aly had made him forget his misery for a few minutes. What if she was pregnant? She was still two years from her career. Career meant a lot to Aly. He supposed it was because she anticipated having to support herself indefinitely. Her mother had been thrown into that life. Aly wanted to be prepared.
He smiled, thinking about Aly’s offer. He almost got the feeling lately Aly cared for him. Too late. He thought about the passionate jealousy he’d felt toward every one of her boyfriends. Not Gar. Aly barely liked Gar. The guy was an idiot, not worth getting worked up over. And he could be the father of Aly’s child. 
He still loved Aly on some level, but it was hard to say how. First love, maybe. The cord stretched both ways between them. He thought of the five years of his doodles that papered Aly’s room. He’d never known. 
Aly stirred, and he felt his body responding. He had to get out of this bed. Now. He eased away from her and her eyes popped open. He glanced at the digital clock on his phone. 
“It’s late. Let’s go to the Quick Stop and get you a pregnancy test.”
Aly moaned. “Let me wake up first, before you throw life at me.” She sat up and stretched. Her collarbones peeked from the neck of her baggy T-shirt. She’d always had great bones. His artist’s eye scanned the cluttered garage. He catalogued every detail about Aly who had fallen back on the bed to finish waking up. He clicked a picture with the camera in his phone.
He’d have to paint her in the morning before the shading floated away, the sleepy look in her eyes. And he wouldn’t smoke until the painting was done. He never painted well high or loaded. He’d ask Aly to pose for him, but she’d get the wrong idea. He needed something besides Raine to think about, a reason to stay sober for a couple of days.
At the convenience store, he stood in front of the selection of sunflower seeds and flavored corn nuts not bothering to pretend interest. They guy behind the counter had sold Aly a home pregnancy test and handed her the key to the restroom on a foot-long replica of the State of Florida. No secrets here. He got tired of waiting and went out to sit on the curb under the hum of the white neon tubes.
Aly burst out the front doors with the State of Florida in one hand and something that looked like a plastic thermometer in the other. “It’s blue, it’s blue!” She danced around. 
He stood up, laughing at her. She threw her arms around him, planting a loud kiss on his cheek and released him. She danced on the curb, down on the oil-polished cement, up on the sidewalk. “No mini-Gar! No borderline-I.Q.ed toddler who walks around in love with his belly button!”
Aly’s glee was infectious. Tomorrow he’d paint.

#

Drew speed-walked Rainey around the square block of Old Fort Park for the third time, and he hadn’t let her talk yet. Banyan trees crowded out the night sky, but streetlights warmed the sandy path.  
He knew, deep down, she wanted to make the right decision about Africa, the one God wanted her to make. She couldn’t do that when she was mad. Maybe he should let her work it out on her own. But they had talked and prayed about this so many times. And they were together at her folks when she finally blew.
Rainey puffed her breath into her bangs. “Real funny, that crack about marriage. As if—”
“As if you should consider waiting till you’re married to go to Africa?
“Not you, too.”
“Your dad’s only concerned about your safety.”
“You might as well say I have to stay here because no man wants to go to Africa, at least not with me. If no one stepped up to the plate at college, where am I going to find a man who wants to be a missionary to Africa—put an ad on Craig’s List?”
“Your folks wanted to know why you keep bringing me by the house instead of the guy who wants to marry you.”
“They actually said that?”
He flattened his lips and nodded. 
“What did you say?”
“That we’re friends.” He looked over at her. “I’d marry you and go to Africa if it weren’t for—” Cal.
“Sam. And you don’t love me like that. And you haven’t dreamed of Africa your whole life.”
“What if I did?”
She stopped and looked at him. “Dream of Africa your whole life?”
“Love you.”
She started walking again, her sandals scraping against the shelly dirt. “Okay, this conversation is getting weird.”
“Answer the question.”
She stood on the sandy path and stared at him for a heartbeat, an invisible current zinging back and forth between them. “We’d go to Africa.”
“Do you think—” you could love me? Or did she just want to go to Africa that badly? “Never mind.” He didn’t want to know. There was no point in getting neck deep into the hypothetical. “What are you going to do?” 
“Sign this contract.” She pulled the envelope out of her back pocket.
“But—”
She ripped the end off the envelope. A single typewritten sheet—not a contract—slid into her hand. 
Her eyes moved back and forth across the page under the street light. She sunk down onto a nearby bench and handed him the letter. When the organization got her teaching application they realized there had been a huge misunderstanding. They needed a teacher with special education certification, something Rainey didn’t have. The director felt terrible about it and would circulate Rainey’s resume among the other agencies on the continent.
He looked back at Rainey.
Tears streamed down her face. “I’m going to Africa. I’ll find a way.” There was steel in her voice.

#

Raine walked quickly away from Drew’s truck. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she walked through the dark patch between the parking lot and the Canteen. She was getting paranoid like Eddie. No, she was paranoid of Eddie. With good reason. She sped up. Ah, out in the bright lights of the athletic field. 
Drew had asked, what if he loved her—not that he did love her. Just what if. What kind of question was that? 
What if he kissed her because he wanted to—not only to comfort her? What if Drew loved her and not Sam? She filled her lungs with pine-scented air, trying to imagine. He’d take her in his arms and tease her about her biceps. When she laughed, he’d kiss her—finishing the kiss she’d barely tasted last time, the kiss she wanted so badly her subconscious dreamed about wanting it. He’d say he loved her feet so much he’d follow them to Africa. Right.
Drew was always out of reach—first in junior high, then when the smorgasbord of goodies showed up on his birthday. And did he forget the little detail of Sam—whom he’d loved all of his adult life? Why did he bring up the possibility of loving her? 
She’d go to Africa for one more reason. To get away from Drew and his passive aggressive weirdness. She could be free of Eddie and Drew—and Dad, for that matter. Men in general. Note to self: check out convents and Catholic missions in Africa. 
She pulled open the screen door to her cabin. And she’d as much as said she’d jump at the chance to marry Drew. She might as well have baked him snicker doodles on his birthday. He was going to think she was another one of those women hunting him down for a husband.
Tomorrow, she’d comb the internet for all the mission agencies operating in Africa, polish her résumé one more time, write a cover letter, buy stamps and envelopes.

#

Drew leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. Him and his big mouth. Now, he was going to pray. Better late than never. He’d been out of line saying so much to Rainey. But why had Rainey said she’d go to Africa with him if he loved her? Was Africa more important to her than Cal?
Lord, it’s time—past time—to lay my life out on the table. Do what You want with it. How could he not check things out with Sam? Tomorrow he’d call.

#

Cal and Aly sat in his car watching the waves roll in the moonlight. He stuck the plastic spoon in the almost-empty pint of Chunky Monkey and passed it to her. “You know, Al, we’re both pretty screwed up, but we’re good for each other.” He looked at her across the tattered bench seat. “Why is that?”
Aly shrugged. “But you’re right.” She shifted around to face him. “The combo of thinking I was preggers, your pegging I need touch, and….” she looked at the Ben and Jerry’s carton in her hands, “your turning me down….” She lifted her eyes to Cal. “I’m done with sex—until I get married, if I do.”
Let her think he had her best interests at heart instead of his own.
She set the empty carton on the dash. “Thanks—for everything.”
He couldn’t stand the admiration radiating from her eyes. He didn’t deserve her respect. “I’m a virgin. The only reason I didn’t say yes was because I didn’t want to look stupid.” He rubbed his temples. “I’m unemployed with no education. This evening while you were with me I got an idea to paint that will keep me sober for three days. That’s who I am.” His tone was harsh. But if he was going to start being honest with people, he had to start somewhere. “I can’t live up to everyone’s expectations. I’m done trying. I’m who I am.” 
Aly laid her hand on the three-day’s growth on his cheek. Her eyes were serious, boring into his. “I love you, John Calvin Koomer.”
For now he wasn’t going to freak over how Aly meant that statement. He’d shown her his worst, and she still loved him. He let the wonder fill his gut. “Thanks, Al.”

#

Raine wiggled her fingers around in her ears. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had hearing loss after the gymkhana. The children were at last sitting quietly in cabin clumps around the gym waiting for Drew to dismiss them. She could almost feel the vibration in the weathered wood floor from the afternoon’s competitions.
Jesse came through the gym door motioning to Drew he had an announcement to make. All eyes turned to Jesse.
“Cash is missing all over camp. This is why we tell you to put your money in your snack bar account and not to keep it in your cabin. If anyone knows anything about this, see me. If you took the money and feel badly about it, give it to a staff member or put it on one of their bunks—no questions asked.”
She could feel the blood draining out of her face, the shock settling in. Her gaze shot to Drew. He’d seen her reaction. He knew. Eddie.

Chapter 23

For the second time in a month Raine scanned the inlet looking for Eddie. She’d texted him, I have something you want. Maybe she should have been more specific. Money. It was too late to tell him now since she had forgotten to bring her phone along.
She scrutinized the surfers on their boards, a couple of them up, riding a curl; most floating in the waves a hundred yards out like bobbers on a line. She’d been hyperaware of Eddie’s invisible presence days before he stole the cash. Now, she felt nothing. Maybe he wouldn’t show.
Cars with board racks baked in the sun. Two hoods sported mahogany-tanned surf babes in bikinis. She sunk down on a sand dune and watched the sandpipers hot-foot their three-pronged prints into the mounds. 
Drew would call what she was doing enabling or some kind of twisted extortion. But it was partly her fault the money got stolen. If she wasn’t working at the camp, Eddie wouldn’t be hanging around. Wasn’t it her job to protect the camp if she had the power to do it? Five hundred dollars was a hefty chunk of her savings, but if it kept Eddie away from the camp for the rest of the summer, it would be worth it. If she was careful, she’d still have barely enough for her ticket.
She dug her toes down toward the cool sand. Where was Eddie? Anger bubbled up to the surface, and she realized how familiar the feeling was. This was who she’d become—a simmering volcano ready to spew at any provocation.
All her anger traced back to Eddie. She reached for a jagged piece of cowry shell. What exactly had Eddie done to make her mad? Where to start? She smoothed the sand in the valley in front of her and wrote, stabbed me with a meth needle, scarred me for life inside and out, stole my teen years. A half an hour later she still carved words into the sand, wringing every incident from her memory. Finally, she sat back and surveyed all the pain Eddie had inflicted—three dune’s worth, the last two dunes in her own shorthand. 
What do I do now, Lord?
Forgive. The word swooped into her mind and squatted like a pelican coming in for a landing. Why? She didn’t want to forgive Eddie. He didn’t deserve it. Look! She flung her arm out toward all the words she’d written in the sand—as if God didn’t understand.
But the word sat there—a pelican on a piling settling in for the duration.
The tears started. I can’t. I’m not strong enough.
I am.
She wiped tears away with gritty hands, but more came, cresting like waves. It’s too hard. You’re asking too much. Eddie’s sins blurred through her tears. The sobs came one after another, wrenched from deep inside. She couldn’t stop them now. Oh, God. Her chest heaved. Help me. 
The sobs backed off, a storm withdrawing out to sea. Her diaphragm shuddered like she was still crying on the inside. She knew what she had to do.
“I forgive you for scarring me.” She wiped the words away and took a ragged breath. “I forgive you lying to me about… stealing….”
At last, she sat in the dip in the dunes surrounded by smooth hills. She took a shaky breath, stood, and walked out of the dunes—free. As she moved down the beach, love for her brother poured into her soul. Now she had something better to give him than money.

#

Raine stared at Drew’s laptop screen where it sat on the metal island in the camp kitchen. She rubbed her back and sat up straighter on her stool. Another mission agency that required its workers to raise their own salary from donations. Why was it so hard to lay down your life for others? Wasn’t teaching in a third world country enough?
Drew looked up from where he sat at the other end of the table stuffing letters into the envelopes she was sending to African missions. “I’m proud of you forgiving Eddie. I bet it was hard to do.”
“Yeah, but so worth it.” She clicked on the next agency.
“I’ve got a call in to Sam.”
Her head jerked up.
“I said I’d tell you when I decided what to do.” He sighed. “I’m going to give it a try.”
“I know.”
“How can you know? I made the decision this morning.”
The hum of the refrigerator cut off and the room seemed unnaturally quiet. She hooked her hair behind her ears. “I didn’t know when, but how could you not pursue a relationship with Sam? If God told you—”
“I was eighteen. I could have been so crazy about her I got it wrong.”
“And you could have been right. It’s not in your character to refuse to check out something God might have told you to do.”
Drew gave a dry laugh. “You make it sound like I haven’t been wrestling with this for days. It about ripped me down the middle. I want—” He raked his fingers through his hair making it stand up crazily. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”
She let her gaze fall back to the computer screen. Why didn’t Drew sound happy about his decision?
Drew’s phone vibrated against the steel tabletop, loud in the silence. “Hi, Sam. Samantha. Thanks for calling back.” He pushed through the swinging doors into the dining hall. “I wanted to ask you to think about the future. Ours.” The doors swung shut behind him.
Ice clunked in the icemaker—the sound of her dreams breaking. Africa. Love. She sat in the wreckage examining what was left. 
As a little girl, she’d snuggled in her mother’s lap and read from the big, blue book about faraway places where people had never heard of Jesus. It was the African nations that tugged at her heart, the ones she wanted to pray for every night. Drew made her see Africa had become her escape from Eddie. 
She always thought she’d be married, but as her college years wore away, so did her hope for love. This summer had pitched her into a cauldron of confusion. The rumble of Drew’s voice seeped into the kitchen. She loved him. Funny time to realize it, when he was smack in the middle of reconciling with his soul mate. 
God, what are Your dreams for me?
An ethereal wisp of a thought slipped into her mind. She grabbed onto the words “hope” and “future” and typed them into Biblegateway.com. Jeremiah 29:11 glowed from the screen. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Could she trust God’s dreams for her life to be good? Without Africa? Without Drew? 
The desire to get away from Eddie had walled her off from God’s dreams. But that wall came down yesterday. For the first time in years, staying on the same continent with Eddie didn’t seem unbearable. And she knew in her heart she had to do what her dad wanted her to do.
But Drew. At night as she drifted off to sleep, when her thoughts wouldn’t obey her will—Drew kissed her, crushing her to his chest as though he’d never let go. She reveled in his taste, the texture of his lips as they pressed against hers, his breath whispering across her cheek—things seared to her memory in that one brief kiss. And she knew how her hand nestled in his, how the blond hairs curled at his wrist. She knew the comfort of crying in his arms. 
Darn him. He was right—he never should have kissed her when he had Sam on the back burner. But he hadn’t seen Sam in years. Who knew they’d reconnect? She couldn’t blame Drew.
Drew’s laugh filtered through the closed doors. His heart had always been Sam’s. And it always would be.
God, I choose Your dreams for me.
She closed down Drew’s laptop, zipped it into its case, and pushed it to the center of the island. Her letters and envelopes to the mission agencies sat on the end of the counter in neat stacks. She scooped them over the edge into the clean black garbage can, killed the fluorescents, and went out into the night.

#

Drew stepped into the kitchen. The room glowed with soft light that spilled from the hood over the range. Had he expected his friendship with Rainey to carry on as usual? If he was going to date Sam, this was what it would be like. A room with Rainey missing. 
Out of fairness to Sam, he wasn’t going to steal any more kisses from Rainey. No more wrapping her in his arms for comfort, holding her hand when they prayed. He needed to share with Sam the things he told no one else.
Telling Rainey he was going to pursue Sam was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He almost blurted out his love for Rainey and begged for a chance to win her. Sure, Cal wanted to marry her, but they weren’t engaged. So, for some reason Rainey wasn’t agreeing to marry Cal. If not for a divine red light, he would have had a shot at waking up under the mosquito netting with Rainey in his arms. 
He felt like Abraham laying Isaac on the altar. The familiar story threaded through his mind. God asked Abraham to sacrifice the son he loved. And Abraham obeyed. At the last moment, God stopped Abraham from killing his son. God had wanted to know if Abraham loved Him above all else. 
I love You more than I love Rainey.
But it was killing him to prove it. He picked up the laptop Rainey had been touching all evening and held it to his chest. This was crazy. How was he going to spend time with Sam Sunday afternoon when Rainey filled his thoughts and senses? 

#

Raine walked toward the campfire ring. Evening sun blanketed Drew, the beach, the ocean with amber. A lump lodged in her throat. All day she’d been avoiding Drew as much as possible. She stayed away from the beach this morning. If there was a way to ease off  to a safe distance from Drew she was going to find it. 
She clutched the plastic garbage bag closer to her side. “Drew! Hey, wait till you see my Samson costume. You’re going to have a riot teasing me.”
Drew’s head popped up from where he was fanning the fire with a section of newspaper. He smiled, but his eyes were serious, scanning hers. “I can’t wait.” 
She pulled on the swim cap she’d fastened long yellow strands of yarn to and tugged it over her head. 
Drew laughed, a deep belly laugh, better than she’d hoped for. She tucked the rest of her hair under the cap and grinned at him. This was worth every minute of the two hours she spent making the costume this afternoon. And the kids would love it, too.
“It’s not the best look for you, Rainey,” he said, still laughing.
“Wait till you see the rest.” She wiggled into the paper grocery sack she’d cut head and arm holes in.
“What are the curly pieces of yarn glued to the front?”
She eased out the long strings of yarn attached to her cap that were caught in the neck opening. “Chest hair, you moron!” 
Then, they both laughed, warmth spilling over them like sunset. She took a deep breath. “We’ll have to pray the kids stop laughing long enough to hear the story.”
“Good idea.” Drew reached for her hand, but he stopped and folded his arms instead. 
The lump settled back in her throat.
His chin dropped to his chest. “Lord, we pray You’ll use the music and Rainey’s rendition of Samson to make a difference in the kids’ lives.”
“Help the kids settle down and listen after they have their laugh.”
“Amen.” Drew surveyed her costume again and shook his head back and forth, his lips stretched into a grin.

#

Raine hugged Krissy, a little girl with blue eyes who wore a perpetual surprised look. “Don’t forget, God has an important job for you to do like Samson.” The girl ran over to join her cabin mates as they walked up the beach to the seawall.
She peered across the empty campfire area at Drew as he added a log to the fire. He looked up at her. “Good job tonight.”
His words warmed her. “You, too.” She kept the fire between them. 
They’d been here alone after campfire a dozen times. Why did it feel so intimate tonight? Probably because she couldn’t stop fixating on kissing Drew. That one kiss had been heaven. 
The silence stretched between them. 
They both spoke at once.
“The costume—” Drew said.
“I’m not going to—”
Drew shook his head. “It wasn’t important. You go.”
She moved part way around the fire toward him and stopped. “I decided last night I’m not going to Africa. At least not now. Not until I can go with Dad’s blessing.” 
Drew crossed the distance between them. “That’s probably the right decision.”
She thought he’d be happy she made the choice he had pushed for, but his eyes looked sad in the firelight. 
She put a hand out to touch his arm and let it drop without touching him. “It’s okay. I’m at peace with it. Don’t be sad for me.” She smiled to let him know she meant it.
“You’ve looked forward to Africa your whole life.”
“God has good things planned for me. I’m counting on it.”
“I… I want to give you… I want you to have your dream.”
“God has a dream for me. I think it will be better than my dream.” Her eyes kept straying to the firelight playing on his lips. She had to get away. She pulled out her phone and checked the time. “Oh, I’ve got to run. I’ll catch you later.” She spun and fluttered her fingers behind her, walking for the seawall like her life depended on it. Drew wouldn’t follow—he couldn’t leave the fire unattended.  But it was the fire in her that was raging.

#

Raine stopped under the shade of the pine tree in front of her cabin and watched Drew stride across the athletic field toward the Canteen. He was dressed in khaki Dockers and a polo shirt, his hair combed, his jaw smooth. She hadn’t seen him this dressed up in years. Her breath caught. Could you know someone so well, you forgot how good looking they were? 
He walked purposefully, not noticing her as he moved past. He was going to see Sam, she was certain. His wide back moved up the road, tearing a part of her away with him.

#

Drew pulled into the parking space in front of Sam’s condo and killed the engine. For the past hour and fifteen minutes on I-95 he kept telling himself all he had to do was show up. But there were ten more steps to Sam’s red front door. The longest steps of his life.
His mind slipped back to Rainey, where it always went. Last night had almost felt normal—till they were alone. Rainey was wound up so tight she finally sprung—high-tailing it back to camp as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. And she hadn’t shown up to walk on the beach since he told her he was going to pursue Sam. Thinking about her made his chest ache.
Lord, I’m here because there’s a chance this is where You want me. Do You?
He wouldn’t know till he went in. He sucked in a breath and let it go. He opened the truck door and slammed it behind him. 
“Hey.” Sam opened the door after his first knock. She looked like she walked out of a magazine in dress slacks, heels, a button-down shirt, and makeup. He’d never seen her in makeup. “You look… great.”
She shut the door behind him. “Thanks.” Her glance darted around the room. She twisted her hair like she used to when she was nervous. “Come on, I’ll show you around the condo.” 
“Wow, Samantha, you’ve changed. Your dorm room was always a disaster.”
She laughed and he could see her face go red under her tan. “You didn’t see me running around like a crazy person shoving things in closets and under the couch before you got here.” 
He chuckled. The tension went out of the room, and he took a seat at one end of the sofa. She sunk into the armchair nearby and curled her feet under her.
“Thanks for coming by camp last week. I had a lot of closure I didn’t know I needed.”
She shrugged. “I was in town anyway.”
He caught her gaze. “I’ve done a lot of thinking this week.”
“Oh?”
“Do you want to give us another try?” He held his hand up to keep her from reacting. “Don’t feel like you have to. It’s a question. I’ve had my closure, I’m fine. I’ll be fine whatever you say.”
“When we were eighteen, I wasn’t mature enough to commit. That’s one way I have changed. I dated a guy who wanted to marry me—”
“More than one.”
She smiled. “Okay, more than one. But it would have been settling for second best. I kept comparing him to you.”
Hearing Sam admit this should have made him feel vindicated, but he felt nothing.
“The funny thing is, I wouldn’t have contacted you if you hadn’t Facebooked me.”
“I’m taking that job in Africa—actually it’s six months in Africa and six months traveling with the children’s choir in the States. Is Africa a deal-breaker?” He waited, hoping it was. 
She shook her head. “Not a deal-breaker. After all that angst freshman year, I majored in elementary ed after all.”
It felt so clinical. Detached. Maybe if he touched her. He reached for her hand where it lay on the armrest. She turned her palm up and they intertwined their fingers like they used to, still a perfect fit. But he was going through the motions. How many sermons had he heard on doing the right thing and the feelings would catch up later? 
He squeezed her hand and let go. “We have a lot of years to catch up on.”
But after take-out pizza and hours of coloring in the years with words, he still felt empty. 
Sam walked him to the door. “Thanks for coming, for giving me another chance.”
She was close enough to kiss. He bent and pressed his lips to hers. Sam responded, but he cut it short. Sam wouldn’t appreciate that he was thinking of Rainey. 

Chapter 24

Raine stopped midstride between the hedge and Canteen and peered at Drew.
He stood beside a white pick-up truck as it pulled to a stop in the grassy parking lot. Sam. 
Her heart seized into a rock. It was late Friday, five days since she’d watched a cleaned up Drew leave for Sam’s. Sam must be in town for the weekend. That meant she’d be coming to campfire, the only time Raine couldn’t avoid being alone with Drew, the time she longed for each day.
Sam slid out of the truck and leaned toward Drew.
He looked up and caught Raine staring. He gripped Sam’s elbows, still holding her gaze over Sam’s shoulder. She waved, trying to appear like everything was normal, and stepped out of sight behind the hedge. 
Oh, God. How was she going to do this? Watching Drew touch Sam was going to kill her. She folded her arms across her waist willing herself to pull it together.
“Raine!” Aly’s voice jarred her. “Hey, what’s the matter with you? You look awful.”
She pressed her lips together to keep them from quivering.
Aly looked around, her gaze stopping at the parking lot. “Does this have something to do with Drew and the hottie with the pick-up?”
She nodded, not wanting to totally lose it in front of Aly. Finally, she took a shaky breath. “He’s trying things again with his ex.”
“And this bothers you, why?”
She shot Aly a how-stupid-can-you-be look.
“Oh.”
Aly glanced back toward the parking lot. “They’re having, like, this mondo discussion, hands waving.” Aly looked at her. “So, this is why you didn’t completely fall for Cal. I told you Drew’s teasing meant he was into you.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Does it look to you like he’s into me?”
Aly glanced back at Drew and Sam. “They’ve calmed down. But they’re talking, not touching or giving each other gaga looks.”
“How am I going to survive the rest of the summer seeing Drew with the girl he’s been in love with for six years?”
Aly whistled softly.
“How am I going to get through campfire tonight with her there?”
Aly tugged her by the arm. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got something to take your mind off Drew for a few minutes.”
“Good luck with that.” 
Aly shot her a grin. “Trust me.”
She looked over her shoulder into the parking lot as Aly pulled her from behind the hedge.
Drew and Sam wrapped their arms around each other.
Aly followed her gaze. “Come on. You don’t want him to see you spying on him.”
“It’s too late.”
Aly hooked an arm through hers and pulled her close. “I need you to practice your missionary thing on me.”
“Are you saying this to blast me out of a mega pity party?”
Aly jerked her head firmly back and forth. “Nope. I’ve been doing a butt load of thinking this week, and I’ve got questions even the preacher’s kid can’t answer. I’d ask Kallie—”
“You’re speaking to your sister?”
“Yeah, I forgot to tell you. Kallie had Braxton Hicks contractions last night while Jesse was doing campfire and called me in a panic to take her to the hospital.” Aly shot her a ‘who knew?’ look. “We made up.”
“Wow.”
“Huge, I know.” Aly sat on the steps of their cabin, and she sank down beside her. 
Aly turned toward her, her gaze intense. “Here’s the deal. I’m done having sex till I’m married—if I ever get married. Cal’s a v—never mind. I wish I’d never gone down that road.” She gazed off into the distance across the athletic field where the teens were playing flag football and back at her. “Can God wipe out my guilt?” Aly’s eyes begged for an answer.
Please, God, help me say the right thing. “Yeah, He can.”
Hope tinged Aly’s expression. “I used to sit in the dark sometimes and listen to Jesse preach when they had church around the campfire. He talked about Jesus paying for our sins. I’ve always felt like my sins were too big, or too many.”
“Here’s what God says, ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.’ Believe it, Aly. It’s true.”
Aly stared at the flash of red and orange flags, kids darting down the field. “It’s a fight to believe that.”
“That’s why I memorized the verse.”
Aly looked back at her. “You know, that’s my favorite thing about you. You screw up.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No, really. If God loves you, then maybe He can love me.”
Tears sprang to Raine’s eyes. 
“You’re thinking about Drew.”
“I’m thinking you did make me forget Drew for a while.”
Aly smirked. “Told you so.”

#

Drew met Sam as she pulled into the parking lot. She’d come home for the weekend. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted since they broke up? Ironic, now that his dream was coming true, his heart wasn’t in it anymore.
Sam smiled at him. “Hi.” Her feet touched down on the ground and she leaned toward him like she was going to kiss him. Over her shoulder he saw Rainey and locked eyes with her. He gripped Sam’s elbows to stop her from kissing him. He wanted to kiss Rainey, not Sam. No way was he kissing Sam in front of Rainey.
Sam looked over her shoulder, following Drew’s gaze.
Rainey waved and moved behind the hedge.
“What’s going on between you and Raine?”
He blew out a breath. “Absolutely nothing.”
Sam eyed him for a long moment. “Spill.”
“I don’t want to get into this.”
“Look, Drew, if there’s some kind of triangle going on here, don’t I have a right to know?”
“I wouldn’t be asking you out if there was somebody else. I’ve barely been on a date since we broke up.”
“Don’t snow me. I went to kiss you ‘hello’ like we always used to—”
“Maybe I want to take things slower this time. Get it right.”
“We’re never going to get it right if you’re keeping secrets.”
“Geez, Sam—”
“Samantha.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic.”
She got in his face. “You want to get back together so we can argue?”
He jammed his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “No. No I don’t.” He could feel the fight woosh out of him. “I care about Raine, but she’s in love with someone else.”
“Is that what this is all about? Why you Facebooked me in the first place? Trying to make her jealous?”
“You know me better than that. I don’t play those kind of games.”
“Then explain to me why you asked me out when you have feelings for someone else. Make me understand.”
This was the last thing on earth he wanted to tell Sam.
“Well?”
She was going to think he was a nutcase. 
“I mean it, Drew. If you’re not going to level with me, I’m out of here. And don’t bother to come back for another try.”
He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “Back when we were together, I thought God told me to marry you.”
Sam’s eyes widened in shock.
“All these years I’ve never been sure. Did God tell me that, or was I so in love with you I imagined it? I still don’t know.”
“I had no idea.”
“I didn’t want to tell you. I sound like some kind of spiritual freak.”
Sam smiled. “I don’t know, even if you were wrong. It’s kind of sweet.”
“Raine’s in love with someone—has been the whole time I’ve known her. Nothing’s going to happen there. If you were willing, I had to at least revisit our relationship. I need to move past that question mark one way or the other.”
Sam was quiet for a long time. Finally, she said. “I won’t date you while you’re in love with someone else. That’s too much to ask. I wish you’d come clean with me from the start.”
“You’re right.” A bud of hope pushed through the ground. She was going to dump him. The freedom to love Rainey, to at least pursue her, thumped in his chest.
“If  you get Raine out of your system, give me a call. If I’m free, we’ll talk. Does that sound fair?”
He drew her to him. “More than fair.” He held on, his soul brimming with gratitude. He loosened his hold. “Thanks, Sam—Samantha.”
She stepped away, and a moment later she tossed him a half-smile and drove away.
He watched the dust kicked up by her tires. Sam had released him, but had God?

#

Raine surveyed the beach. She’d waited till the last possible moment to come down to campfire. The sky had already tinted rose, purple, and burnt orange.
Drew stood beside the fire staring into the flames—alone. Where was Sam? Had she gone to visit her mother? 
She folded her arms over the quiver in her stomach. With everything in her she wanted Drew to believe it was fine with her he was getting back with Sam. She should be happy for him. When you love someone, you want what’s best for him. It sure looked like Sam was best for him.
She coughed to let Drew know she was nearby.
He looked up. “Hey, Rainey.” He smiled warm and wide, and wrapped warmth around her like an Indian blanket.
“Sorry, I’m running a little late. We need to pray for tonight.” She bowed her head. “Lord, please use the music to soften the kids’ hearts, and use Drew’s words to draw them close to You. Thanks so much for the awesome spiritual conversation Aly brought up today.”
“Amen.” Drew looked at her, brows lifted, waiting for an explanation. 
“Aly says she’s beginning to believe God might love her.”
“Awesome.” Drew put his hand up for a high five.
She laughed and slapped his hand. He grabbed hold of her fingers. “I’m proud of you.”
Drew’s touch lit a fuse in her, and she snatched her hand away. She heard the kids jumping off the seawall onto the beach behind her.
“How’s Cal?”
She rifled through the information Aly had told her about Cal. “He’s got a place to stay, thinks he can get his job back at Stoney’s Tattoo, he’s working on a new painting this week, staying sober.”
The counselors herded their children into place around them.
“That’s great.” Drew picked up his guitar and played softly. He gave her another smile, a melancholy shadow of the one he’d given her earlier. She looked up toward the road for Sam, but didn’t see her. 
She sunk down on the sand in the middle of a group of girls who were building a sand castle while they waited for the rest of the cabins to arrive. She stole a peek at Drew. He caught her, and she looked back at the girl who was chattering at her. She felt like she was in junior high again, mooning after Drew. Only now it hurt. Unbearably. She wrenched around and looked for Sam again.

#

Raine woke up. Something buzzed. Her phone on the table beside her head. She reached for it, her motion clumsy from sleep. Eddie. She glanced at the clock. Three in the morning. Terror shot adrenaline through her body. She flipped the phone open. “What?”
“I’m freakin.’ Come out to the beach by camp. I need you. I need you bad. You’re the only one I can trust. Come alone. I need you Rain-ee.” She heard the quiver in his voice. He was high. 
God, don’t let him be tweaking. She forced her voice to be calm. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
She pulled on sweats over her sleep shirt, grabbed the tennis shoes from under her bed, and tip toed out of the room.

Chapter 25

Raine squinted at the brightness of the camp sign as she walked by, heading for the beach. This was the first time Eddie had called her in the middle of the night. Something wasn’t right. He sounded desperate. Oddly, she wasn’t afraid. She hadn’t been afraid of him since she forgave him. Warmth bubbled up inside her despite everything. She would finally get to spill her forgiveness out on Eddie. How could he help but feel her love for him?
She yawned and wiped the sleep out of her eyes. Part of her mind stretched to remember the research paper she’d done on tweaking when she was in high school. Mom let her choose her topics even though she thought Raine had a morbid curiosity about drugs, methamphetamine in particular. 
Night’s dampness crept toward her from the openings of her sweatshirt, and she pulled her hands inside the sleeves. Was he tweaking—what she’d dreaded for years—his loading up on more and more meth till it ceased to give him the euphoria he was after? If Eddie was tweaking, she would need to pop her hands back out to keep them in plain sight. Paranoia was a common symptom. She would need to do anything she could to keep from frightening him. Weird when she’d been the one afraid of him for so long.
The wind tossed the tops of the pines and drove thick clouds across the sky, hiding the moon and stars. She could make out the outline of the bathhouse and shed beyond the streetlights.
Jesus, fill me with Your ability to communicate love and forgiveness to Eddie. Give me wisdom in how to deal with him. Make this a turning point for him away from drugs. Please.
She dropped off the seawall onto the sand. “Eddie? I’m here. Where are you?”

#

Drew heard the ping from his phone that he got a text message. He’d been tossing and turning all night anyway. 
Aly. Raine meeting Eddie in five. Don’t know where. Afraid for her.
Alarm slammed through his body. Meth addicts were dangerous, and Eddie had already done violence to Rainey. He wasn’t taking any chances. He grabbed his phone, dialing 911 on his way out of the cabin. He filled in the operator as he sped across the athletic field. “My first guess is they’re meeting at the beach, but it could be anywhere a five minute walk from the camp. The guy has a history of violence.”
The dispatcher told him to stay connected. He tossed his phone into the pocket of his gym shorts and took off at a dead run for the beach. He hoped he guessed right. Rainey’s life could be in danger if he got it wrong. His mind blocked out the ground shells and pebbles under his bare feet. Keep Rainey safe. Help me find her. 

#

Aly uncurled herself from the ball she’d clenched into after texting Drew. He’d sent her a one letter answer, k. The way Raine worried about Eddie, she didn’t trust him. Not one stinking bit. Meth addicts were capable of anything.
She slid over the edge of her bunk, stepped on Raine’s mattress and knelt on the floor. 
God, I know You haven’t heard much from me. But I’m scared. Keep Raine safe. She’s totally into You. Do it for her sake. 
She made the sign of the cross and climbed into Raine’s bed to wait.

#

Only the rhythmic crash of the waves answered Raine. The wind picked up, and she rubbed her arms—a feeble attempt to dispel the chill of fear crawling through her clothes.
“Eddie?”
“Over here.”
She turned toward the sound of his voice and saw her brother backlit by the neighborhood lights in the distance.
In case he was tweaking, she stopped about ten feet from Eddie. No need to make him feel threatened. “I’m so glad to see you. It was creeping me out being here in the middle of the night. I wanted to talk to you for the past week. This is going to sound weird, but I wanted to tell you how much I love you—to ask your forgiveness for being angry and resentful toward you over the meth. Will you forgive me?
“Sure, Raine, whatever. I appreciate the sentiment. But I’m in crisis here. I’ve been up for days.” He sounded perfectly sane.
“How many?”
“I don’t know. Five. Maybe six. What does it matter?”
Tweaking. Oh, God, help me. 
He pulled something out of his pocket. “I need more cash. A lot of cash.” 
It took a heartbeat for her mind to register the metal object glinting in Eddie’s hand was a gun aimed at her. “Where did you get that?” She forced calm into her voice.
“Camp office when I was looking for money.”
“How did you get in?”
“Same as last time. Jimmied the lock. Piece of cake.”
“Don’t point that at me. I’m your sister.” She slowed her speech, hoping that made her sound calm.
“I need a lot of cash.”
She suddenly saw Drew back by the camp sign sprinting flat-out toward them. Panic flushed through her.
“I need meth.”
“Here comes Drew training for his triathlon in the middle of the night again. The guy is obsessed.”
Eddie whipped his head around.
Drew came to a stop on the seawall, his head darting back and forth, his eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness on the beach. His breath came in loud gasps.
“Hey, Drew.” She moved quickly toward him willing Eddie not to shoot.
Drew jumped down from the seawall and came toward her.
“I was telling Eddie about your freakish, middle-of-the-night training for that triathlon at the end of the summer.”
“Yeah,” Drew said between breaths. His arm went around her shoulders, and she could tell the exact moment he saw Eddie’s gun by the clench of his fingers into her arm. He shoved her behind him.
She scrambled around in her mind for something that would keep Eddie from shooting Drew. “Come on, Eddie, this is silly. I’m your sister. Drew is your future brother-in-law. Put the gun down and let’s talk.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Yeah, well, he’ll grow on you like he did on me.” She could feel Drew’s breathing slowing to normal. His being close was helping her hold it together.
“We’re going back to camp.” Eddie’s voice quivered.
“I’ve got five hundred dollars I was planning on giving you last week—Tuesday when you didn’t show.”
“Times ten. We’ll take a cabin, the youngest kids, and hold them hostage till the camp coughs up money.”
She felt Drew tense. She gripped his arm trying to communicate she didn’t want him to do anything yet. 
“I read about what you’re going through.” She worked at keeping her tone conversational. “Up for days. No matter how much meth you took, you haven’t gotten the high you’re after.”
“You don’t know what I’m going through,” Eddie said.
“More meth isn’t going to do it for you.” She peered at him around Drew. “I don’t mean getting clean forever. You’ve got to come down all the way and start over to get the high you’re craving.”
“I know what I need,” Eddie said through clenched teeth.
“I’ll stay with you while you come down. Some people stay up for fifteen days. Do you want to feel frustrated that long?”
“You think you know so much from books. You’ve never tried it.”
Drew started to say something and she jabbed him hard in the ribs. This wasn’t the time to say anything about how Eddie tried to inject her.
She had to keep Eddie talking. She knew tweakers were most dangerous when they stopped talking. “Since Drew’s going to be joining the family, why don’t you fill him in on stuff he needs to know about the Ziglers—family myths—like what ever happened to my Strawberry Shortcake blankie?”
Eddie shifted his gaze from her to Drew.
Drew held his hands out in front of him. “I gotta know this info—the sooner the better. Who wants to sign up for a family without full disclosure? So what happened to Rainey’s blankie?”
“She swears I stole it and buried it in the back yard. Not so. I think Logan swiped it and put in the branches over the tree house. I remember seeing it flying like a flag around Christmas, but it was gone by spring.”
“I was four. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you saw it.” Remember you love me. Remember life before meth. “Tell Drew about the lost city.”
Eddie motioned with his head. “Let’s go.”
There was no way she was letting Eddie get anywhere near camp. “The banks don’t open for hours.” She couldn’t believe how reasonable she sounded. “What’s one more story going to hurt?”
“The lost city?” Drew prompted.
“Rainey never played with dolls. Don’t think she’s great mom material. We were always under the house with five hundred match box cars building roads in the lost city, our version of Atlantis.” Eddie’s hand holding the gun trembled. “Enough of this.”
Was that the silhouette of a policeman in a cap up in the dunes? It was gone now. Maybe she imagined it.
“If you take this step, you’re becoming a criminal. Is that what you want—to have to hide the rest of your life or be in jail? Don’t you want to go to college, maybe become a real city planner—not just the lost city?”
Drew inched closer to Eddie. She stuck to him trying to make it look like they hadn’t moved. What was Drew going to try?
“I want you to come to my wedding. I want you to be an uncle to my kids.”
Now she saw them—two policemen—crab-walking from the dunes across the sand. They were coming at Eddie from two directions.
“Hand me the gun, Eddie. We’ll get through this together like we’ve gotten through everything else. I’ll put the gun back. I love you.” She stepped toward him, holding out her hand for the gun.
Eddie’s arm shook. “I’ll shoot. I swear I’ll shoot.”
She took another step and stopped. “Underneath it all, you love me. I don’t believe you’ll shoot me. Give me the gun.”
All of a sudden she saw the flash of Drew’s dark T-shirt in front of her as he dove across the sand toward Eddie. 
The gun fired.
Oh, God.
Light from the distant streetlight glinted off the gun where it had been knocked several feet from Eddie. 
Eddie scrambled toward the gun. 
Two dark forms converged on Eddie in a flash of flesh hitting flesh, grunts.  
Was Drew shot? 
Drew crawled to his knees, spitting sand. Relief washed through her.
Eddie lay belly-down on the sand. An officer kneed Eddie in the back and twisted his arm to a painful angle. 
The other policeman cuffed Eddie’s wrists together. “You’re lucky you didn’t get shot. You have your sister and her boyfriend to thank. Think about that when you’re in the lockup.” He hauled Eddie to his feet. 
Eddie thrashed away from the officer, fighting frantically to get away.
The other officer clamped a meaty hand on Eddie’s scrawny arm. “Don’t go anywhere, you two, we’re going to need statements,” he said over his shoulder.
The officers moved away toward the road, Eddie between them. 
Drew crushed her to him. “Thank God you’re okay. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
She pushed away a little so she could see his face. “Why did you dive for the gun? You could have gotten killed. He doesn’t trust you.”
“I didn’t want Eddie to shoot you. I didn’t want the police to shoot Eddie—for you to have to deal with that.”
“Sorry about the whole brother-in-law thing. I had to give Eddie a reason not to shoot you.”
Drew gave her a crooked smile. “We’ll have to find a way to make an honest woman out of you.”
“I’m ready to take your statements,” the officer who had cuffed Eddie said from the seawall. 
They pulled apart and the wind whistled between them.
“It won’t take long. We’ll get your verbatim off the 911 call.”
Drew grabbed his phone, still open, out of his pocket. “I forgot about it.”
After answering questions, Raine walked over to the police car. Eddie brushed sand from his cheek with his shoulder of his old Fishin’ Cove Bait and Tackle T-shirt. She knew the slogan without reading it. We hook ‘em, you cook ‘em. She must have seen him wear that shirt a hundred times. She dragged her gaze to his. He looked at her through the partially open window. For a second she saw the gangly fourteen-year-old he used to be peering out of his eyes—afraid—before he smeared anger across his face.
“I love you, Ed.”
He looked away, his face hard.
The officer leaned out the driver’s window. “Dispatch alerted the camp director, and he’s gotten an all-clear call, too.”
The car drove away. Drew dropped an arm around her. She stood in the road watching the tail lights get smaller and smaller till the car turned a corner. Drew headed them toward camp. 
Eddie would be in a solitary holding cell tonight, the officer had told her. At least he’d be safe. She didn’t want to think any further than that. Her emotions seemed frozen. The only thing she knew was she was warm and safe tucked under Drew’s arm.
When they stopped in front of her cabin, she turned into Drew’s chest. His arms went around her. “I don’t want to go inside.”
“It’s okay. I’ll stay with you till you’re ready.” 
Exhaustion settled over her slowly. Her body relaxed. She wanted to sleep in Drew’s arms. She’d close her eyes for a minute and listen to Drew’s heart beat.
“Hey.” Drew’s whisper startled her. “You’re falling asleep on your feet. Look, it’s almost sunrise.”
The sky had lightened to rose. And at the end of the beach road, the horizon glowed pink.
“Go inside.” Drew gently peeled her off him.
She gripped his arm where the blond hairs curled. “Thanks. For protecting me. And Eddie.” I love you. She stood staring into his ocean blue eyes.
“Go.” He turned her toward the cabin steps and gave her a push.

Chapter 26

Drew cracked his knuckles and stared at the cabin door a sleepy Rainey had walked through. Thinking about Rainey in bed was never a good idea—at least not when he was marginally interested in being “holy because God is holy.” He headed for his cabin. He needed to touch base with Jesse, fall on his knees and thank God Rainey was alive, then sleep.
Rainey had clung to him for support. She needed him—at least for a little while. He had been so hungry to hold her that he was almost grateful to Eddie. 
If he’d held Rainey in his arms thirty more seconds, he would have kissed her. Not good. Especially in her emotional state. At least he’d learned that lesson.
Was God going to give him a clear answer about Sam? Maybe Sam’s ditching him was the answer. But it felt like there were still loose ends—like Cal, for one. Maybe Sam would find someone else. That would be plain enough. Please, God.

#

Raine scratched Antoine’s ears as she took a seat on the sofa across from Mom and Dad. Drew sat down next to her and held a hand toward Antoine. The dog backed his huge body under the end table to hide from Drew, then stuck his nose out for a gingerly sniff. They all laughed, in spite of Eddie’s invisible presence in the room.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Dad’s face was pasty under a day’s worth of stubble. 
“You’ve told me six times today, Dad.”
Dad shook his head. “When I think I could have lost you. I feel like I’ve been losing you for years.” His face looked sadder than she’d ever seen him.
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I figured it out recently—why we never seem to get along. I used to share everything with you, but when I started keeping Eddie’s secrets, I had to close myself off from you.” She looked at Mom. “From both of you. I’m sorry.”
Mom reached across the coffee table and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, honey.”
Dad sighed. “You thought you were protecting Eddie. I wish we’d known. We could have shared the burden.”
“Drew told me I was enabling Eddie by not telling you about his addiction and by giving him money. But I didn’t see it till last night.”
Mom gripped Dad’s arm. “We’ve suspected Eddie’s drug use for a long time. We’ve barely seen him the past few years. In a way, it’s almost a relief to find out he’s an addict. There’s a reason for the stealing, the callousness.”
Dad looked at Drew. “Thank you for diving for that gun. If you hadn’t, the police might have killed him. At least now, we have hope he can beat the drug.”
“Meth is one of the hardest drugs to get off,” Drew said. “It’s going to be a long haul.”  
“He may be in jail for an extended stay,” Dad said.
Drew clasped his hands together. “Do you mind if I pray for Eddie?”
Dad nodded. “I think I’m still in shock. We’d be grateful.”
“Lord, nothing is too difficult for you. We pray that You will rescue Eddie from meth addiction. Please use however long he has in jail to heal him. Take away the psychological need that has developed. Give him a heart to know You as his God.”
“Amen,” Mom said like a seal on Drew’s words.
“I’m not going to see him for a week so he’ll have a chance to come down. I’ve seen all the drugged Eddie I care to see.” Raine yawned. “Haven’t caught up on my sleep yet.” She stood. “And I’ve been a brat about Africa. I’m staying home. For now. In my heart, I still feel God’s call to Africa. Someday, I’m going.”
Dad came over to where she stood and wrapped her in a bear hug like he used to when she was a little girl. “I’m proud of you, honey. I stand by my decision because I love you.”
Five minutes later Drew killed his truck engine in the camp parking lot. He yawned in the dark cab. “It’s catching.”
Love and gratitude for Drew washed over her. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned toward him. She pressed her lips against the fine stubble on his cheek. “Thanks, Drew, for everything.” 
His expression was unreadable in the dim parking lot light. She slipped out of the truck and walked between the hedge and the Canteen toward her cabin.
She wished it was only Sam she was up against. But God? Is it okay, Lord, for tonight, if I think about Drew’s kiss while I fall asleep?

#

Drew rubbed the pads of his fingers over the place Rainey kissed on his cheek. He slumped over the steering wheel. 
God, I am so sunk on this girl. Please, please can I have her?
His patience had worn paper thin. He was an idiot for thinking God would answer. God gave him a brain, didn’t He? His brain said go after the girl you love. But what if….

#

Raine walked toward the beach in the still morning air. Dew clung to the grass, sparkling in fresh sun. Her feet moved quickly. She was eager to see Drew. After Eddie went to jail, she’d given up on avoiding Drew. She didn’t have it in her to stay away from him. 
Everything seemed normal—almost how it was before Sam showed up. Drew held her hands when they prayed for campfire, but he didn’t touch her otherwise. He’d hardly teased her in a week. Instead, his pensive eyes followed her. He looked away when she caught him. Maybe he was more shook up about Eddie almost killing them than he let on.
She’d been strangely at peace about Eddie. This morning her easy banter with Eddie had come back to her mind suddenly in that place between sleep and wakefulness. She knew it was time to visit him at the jail.

#

Raine looked at Eddie through the computer monitor of the Volusia County Correctional Facility visitor’s carrel. Eddie stared with hooded eyes at something below the line where Formica met the monitor. But he was here. She hadn’t known whether he would agree to see her. 
She gripped the desk so tightly her fingers ached. Silence swam back and forth between them—and snapshots from the past: Laughter swirled the table while orange sun burned against the kitchen wall; Eddie scooped the carrots from her plate onto his when no one was looking. Around Eddie’s fifteenth birthday, his eyes slipped shut in a darkened auditorium—his hands and voice raised, reaching for God. 
The jail ‘scrubs’ hung on Eddie’s frame. Had he lost more weight in jail? She couldn’t tell.
His eyes darted up and away—wounded, afraid. His jaw was hard.
Drew had prayed this morning for the words she needed to say to Eddie, and now they ran through her head like a text message from God.  
She cleared her throat. “This is not who you are.” She flung her hand around. “It’s only what you’ve done. You’re a child of God. You’re forgiven. You’re loved by God. By me.”
“I hate myself.”
“Your name means ‘guardian.’ I remember you grabbing my hand to cross the street to the playground. We must have been six and seven. That’s who you are inside.”
“I’m a screw-up. I’m going to be in the pen for a long time to prove it.” His voice was lifeless, void of hope.
She didn’t want to think about that now. “Eddie, listen to me.”
He looked up.
“Your sins have been paid for. Someday, you’re going to get a second chance at life. You’ve lost your way, but you’ll find it again—and drag others out of the chasm with you.”
Two tears plopped from the corners of his eyes, and he put his palm up to the camera. 
She matched her left to his right on the screen. “You’re a man worth loving.”
His eyes bore into hers. “I’m sorry, sis. For everything.”
“I forgive you.” 

#

The rain eased off to a drizzle while Aly squinted at the three cars parked haphazardly along the road beside the beach. She’d taken her lunch break late, hoping to catch Cal at the beach while the surf was up. 
She hadn’t heard from him in the week since she told him she loved him. He needed to know she understood he was still in love with Raine. She was fine with friendship. Maybe later, something more. Yes, Cal’s car was the one parked closest to her. 
She looked toward the beach. Cal walked up the path through the saw-grass toward the road. He was bare-chested and dripping wet with his board tucked under one arm. His other arm draped over Evie, the girl who did the piercing at Stoney’s Tattoo. The polka dots on her string bikini showed through the sodden white T-shirt she wore. Aly imagined she could see the daisy tattooed to Evie’s left breast. Thanks to Evie’s low-cut tops, she’d seen the tattoo every time she’d ever stopped by Stoney’s Tattoo.
She recognized Cal’s look that kept straying below Evie’s chin, but she’d never seen it on him before. Her stomach went queasy.
Cal stopped on the path and bent to kiss Evie. Aly didn’t want to watch Cal’s hand press the polka dots against his body, the major lip-lock; but she froze on the edge of the road. 
As the kiss ended, Cal looked up and caught her watching him. Evie’s eyes stayed down as she picked her way through the sandy pass. 
His lips flattened into a straight line, his eyes unreadable, as he stared at her. 
She used all her strength to lift her chin and spin away. She clutched her rain jacket hard against her stomach and walked away. 

#

Drew lay back against the slope of the dune and watched purple clouds lumber across the sky. He’d accepted the Africa Cries job weeks ago, and now he felt like crap. He’d been noble, then—obeying God when it hurt. But this morning all he could think about was putting continents and oceans between him and Rainey. Ironic, Rainey was staying and he was going. 
He flung a stick into the wind and it flew back at him. Sam had stepped out of Facebook—and back again—leaving him with the closure he needed.
There was no ring on Rainey’s finger. He had no qualms about going up against Cal. He’d tell Rainey how he felt and take a number. He still had nearly three weeks to win her. He could do it; he felt it in his bones.
And he would. Except for God’s iron hand blocking him. 
He stood. “This sucks!” 
In the distance, wind whipped the waves into froth. Sand blew off the chin-high dunes around him. He could feel the grit in his teeth. 
He was Abraham with Rainey on the altar. And at this moment, he hated God.  
Wind pelted his face with intermittent rain. He glowered at God in the billowing clouds.
He dropped his chin to his chest. “No matter what, You are God. My God.”

#

Cal put the key in the ignition. He’d watched Aly’s heart break in her face. She wasn’t good at hiding things like he was. Yeah, if there was any doubt, Aly did love him like that. He’d spent years being careful with Aly’s emotions. And in two minutes, he’d pulverized her. He should drop Evie off, go back, and do damage control with Aly. But, honestly, it was better for Aly if he stayed away from her.  
He turned some invisible corner when Raine ditched him. He was done trying to please anyone but himself. 
Evie leaned over and fiddled with the radio trying to get a Daytona Beach station. He could tell her the only station he ever got was WSBB, New Smyrna Beach, but he was enjoying the view too much. 
Sex was incredible. Granted, he hadn’t anticipated getting slammed with guilt, but he’d get over it. Deprogramming his parents’ tapes would take time. Meanwhile, he had a lot of catching up to do. He’d been an idiot to wait this long.
Evie sat back, her bare shoulders thumping her displeasure against the seatback. He grinned at her. “Scoot over here.”
As she nestled under his arm, her skin warming his chest, the tender part of his arm, Aly sat like a stone in his gut.

#

Drew jogged out of the dunes. He should get back to the gym where the kids watched a movie. Rain hit him full force, stinging his skin like it had been shot from a pressure sprayer. Someone in a windbreaker cinched around her face scanned the beach. Was it Rainey? They met at the equipment shed on the back side of the bathhouse. He yanked the padlock and swung the door open for her.
He sluiced the water from his face with the crook of his arm. Rainey peeled off her soggy windbreaker and tossed it over a badminton pole. Her hair was damp and mused, and she’d never looked more beautiful.
Rain beat on the roof like sticks on a snare drum. He arched his brows at her in the close air. 
She pulled an envelope from the back pocket of her jeans and jabbed it into his chest. “Why are you getting mail from Africa?”
He thwacked the letter against his thigh, stalling. “What are you doing with my mail?”
“I saw it when I was helping Aly sort the mail.”
“Nosey.”
Rainey ignored him. “What is it?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t read it yet.” 
“Drew!” 
He ripped the end off the envelope and glanced at the top page. His contract, as he suspected. He passed it to her.
“You’ve got a job in Africa!” Her voice arced up at the end. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her words were laced with hurt.
“I told you I was praying about a career change.”
She sank down onto the furled volleyball net. “Isn’t this rich. You’re going to Africa. I’m staying here.”
“My thought exactly.” He could hear the flatness in his own voice. 
“I can’t believe you kept this a secret from me all summer.” She waved her arms at him. “I thought we were friends. Good friends. And you had this mega secret….” She raked her fingers through her damp hair, and it fell back across her forehead. 
“I’m sorry.” He sat down beside her, his arm brushing hers. He snagged a page that had fallen to the dirt floor. He glanced at it—the cover letter. The pages must have gotten inserted out of order. His glance caught on an unexpected word. 
He backed up and read the letter slowly. He looked at Rainey. She stared at the light coming through the cracks between the boards. Her face was void of hope. He slowly folded the pages together and slid them back into the envelope.
The envelope shook in his hand. He held a tangible message from God. Tears sprang to his eyes and he blinked them away. He took a deep breath and turned toward Rainey. 

Chapter 27

Aly walked quickly away from Cal and Evie, her canvas flats squishing with every step. Cal had ripped her heart down the middle. Oh, it wasn’t anything she didn’t deserve. Just the shock of the unexpected. Hadn’t she done what he was doing—a dozen times—all while Cal was in love with her? But she hadn’t known he loved her till it was too late.
She urged her feet faster, wanting to get around the corner and out of Cal’s sight. As if he’d come running after her. Tears streamed down her face. 
God, I am so sorry—for everything. Like Raine says, I want Your dreams for my life—if I haven’t already totally screwed them up. She glanced over her shoulder and glimpsed Cal’s car driving away. 
The sun broke through the clouds. Inside, WALL-E’s spindly plant of hope pushed through the rubble of her pain. Somehow, in a way she didn’t understand yet, she was going to be okay.

#

Raine looked over at Drew’s smooth cheeks, the rain-plastered angel-hair, his eyes the color of faded denim—that were devouring the papers in his hands. She hadn’t considered Drew being jerked a world away. Drew’s going to Africa felt almost as bad as his marrying Sam. Finally he folded the sheets and slid them back into the envelope.
He took a deep breath and turned toward her. “We need to talk.” His voice was firm.
She glanced at a family of balls huddled in the corner and braced herself for whatever was coming. The downpour softened on the roof. She breathed in the scent of rain and old tires and studied his face.
He searched her eyes until she shifted uncomfortably on the roll of netting where they sat. “Remember the day you told me you were praying about who you were supposed to marry?”
Her stomach clenched and her heart beat as fast and light as the rain on the roof. “The day you didn’t tell me about Africa.”
“What I did tell you was I wanted to be on your list.”
“You were joking.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
He certainly wasn’t joking now. She’d never seen him more serious. Something warm in her stomach moved into her ribcage. She stared at the blond hair curling around her bracelet on his wrist.”You said you wanted a girl with strong arms and cute toes.”
His hand closed around hers. “I want you.” 
Her eyes flew to his. There it was, that look she’d seen in his eyes so often lately. Now it had a name. Yearning. “What about Sam?”
“When Sam figured out I had feelings for you, she cut me loose.”
“Why did you e-mail her in the first place?”
“You were into Cal, and it seemed like a good time to settle my issues with Sam.” He held up his hand and blew out his breath. “I know you and Cal have had something cooking all summer—just put me on the list, okay?”
“There’s no list.” 
Hope and wonder lit his face. “No Cal?”
“What makes you think I’d want another druggie in my life?”
Drew’s brows knit together. “But you still have feelings for him—I’m only asking for you to give me a shot—”
“What if God wants you to marry Sam?”
His eyes danced. He held up the envelope. “Got my answer.”
She stared at him dumbly trying to understand it all. “What are you saying, Drew?”
Drew stood and pulled her up. He was so close she could smell the scent of shampoo from his damp hair. His hands settled on her arms.
Her mind reeled, the only thing registering was the warmth of Drew’s touch.
“Rainey, I love you.” 
Rainey had never sounded less annoying. “You love me?”
One side of Drew’s mouth scrunched into a lopsided smile. “I think it was your feet I fell in love with first. All I know is I love your heart for God. I love working beside you. I love seeing you walk up the beach every morning—”
She stepped into his chest and his arms closed around her. The rain slapped against the tin roof, and she listened to the beat of his heart—racing, like he’d sprinted down the beach. She felt safe, safer than she’d ever felt in her life. 
She looked up and took his face in her hands. “You know that kiss, the one you apologized for?”
“Yes.” His voice was definite, his eyes smiling.
“I want more of those—”
Drew closed the inches between them, cutting off her words with his lips—soft like she remembered, tasting of rainwater and heaven. His cheeks felt smooth against her palms. His arms tightened, pulling her against his chest and the kiss deepened. Her body stretched and woke up as though it had been asleep for a long time—kindling a promise. 
Drew ended the kiss and stepped slightly away, wonder washing his face. Her fingers slipped from his hair. He looked as dazed as she felt. She grabbed onto his arms, afraid she’d topple.
Drew shook his head, grinning. “Yeah. You can pretty much count on plenty of those.” Drew always seemed half saint. But the look he gave her was all man. He snagged her windbreaker with one hand and her wrist with the other. “Sometimes you need to take Rainey out in the rain.” 
The rain had slowed to drizzle, and the gray sky seemed bright after the shed.
She caught his hand. “I love you, Drew. Ever since that first kiss.”
Drew laughed. “The one I wasted half the summer regretting?” The mirth seeped out of his eyes—brilliant blue in the gray light—and they filled with joy and hunger and something like adoration that made her heart trip a beat.
His eyes bore into hers with purpose, as though he’d made a decision. “We need to talk.”
Tiny currents ran through her body. “About?” 
“Not now. Tonight after campfire.”
“Drew!”
He turned toward camp, their clasped hands pulling her along. “The conversation needs to happen at Old Fort Park.”
A wisp of memory floated and twirled in her mind. The only time they’d been to Old Fort Park was after she’d fought with Dad, telling him she should just marry the first guy who agreed to take her to Africa. Drew made her walk off her anger before they discussed what? 
Marriage. 
Euphoria bubbled up into laughter.
Drew looked at her. “What’s so funny?”
“If you’re going to ask me a question, the answer is yes.”
Drew stopped mid-step and grinned at her. “Maybe I wanted to talk about eternal security, speaking in tongues, and transubstantiation.”
“Yes, yes, and possibly, then.”
“Since you’re in such an agreeable mood…” He tugged her to the shelly sand beside the road and pulled the envelope from his pocket. He passed her one of the pages.
She skimmed the letter. Africa Cries had been forwarded her resumé by another mission organization. They suggested Drew interview her and decide if the agency should hire her to tutor and travel with the children’s choir. Drew’s decision would be final as he was the person who would have to work closely with the tutor. Salary details were given.
Drew dropped to one knee. “You said at the Old Fort that if I loved you, we’d go to Africa. Marry me, Rainey. Let’s go to Africa.”
“Yes. Oh, yes!”
Drew rose and kissed the air from her lungs.
Her laughter returned, and they broke apart.
Drew shot her a silly, wounded look. “What? You’re laughing at my technique?” They headed toward camp.
“Not your technique. Your enthusiasm.” She could feel the smile stretch taut across her face.
“Guess you better get used to that.”
His callused hand felt clumsy in hers, foreign and familiar. She wanted to spend a lifetime getting to know his skin. She would have missed Drew if she’d shut God out of her feelings for Cal. Thank You, God, for giving me someone so much better than I could have chosen. And for giving me my dream.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to my husband, Jim, who once sold the family minivan to send me to a writers’ conference, works two jobs so I can write full-time, reads me, edits me, believes in me, and loves me.
I’m grateful to my daughter Annie whose dream of loving orphans in Peru inspired Raine’s passion. And my son Luke, like Drew, when he sings makes me feel like only God and I are in the room. 
Thanks to Jackie Jessup, my proofreader and cheerleader who took days off work to traipse around New Smyrna Beach quizzing people for info with her temporarily-struck-shy writer friend. And for keeping me sober at high school keg parties and out of all the trouble I would have wandered into.
A heart-felt thank you goes to the hundreds of people who made me a summer camp expert: the folks at Our Lady of The Hills Camp in Hendersonville, North Carolina, the “happy” in my childhood; Camp Bethany in Loudenville, Ohio; Camp Shipshewana in Shipshewana, Indiana; and ABC Camp in Patagonia, Arizona.
God receives my deepest appreciation for creating me with a purpose—to write—and for causing my heart to sing when I write.
Thank you for reading Kicking Eternity, walking into my imaginary world and my heart.



Ann Lee Miller earned a BA in creative writing from Ashland (OH) University and writes full-time in Phoenix, but left her heart in New Smyrna Beach, Florida, where she grew up. She loves speaking to young adults and guest lectures on writing at several Arizona colleges. When she isn’t writing or muddling through some crisis—real or imagined—you’ll find her hiking in the Superstition Mountains with her husband or meddling in her kids’ lives.

Other titles from Ann Lee Miller

The Art of My Life
Release Date: September 1, 2012

Cal walked out of jail and into a second chance at winning Aly with his grandma’s beater sailboat and a reclaimed dream of sailing charters.
Aly has the business smarts, strings to a startup loan, and heart he never should have broken. He’s got squat. Unless you count enough original art to stock a monster rummage sale and an affection for weed. 
But he’d only ever loved Aly. That had to count for something. Aly needed a guy who owned yard tools, tires worth rotating, and a voter’s registration card. He’d be that guy or die trying.
For anyone who’s ever struggled to measure up. And failed.

Avra’s God
Release Date: December 1, 2012

In the tradition of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, four friends navigate college and the drama churned up by their Florida beach band to cement friendship and more.
Avra wants love, but drummer Cisco—self-medicating from his parents’ divorce with sex and intoxicants—is a poor choice. Cisco hungers for fresh-baked cookies and the scent of family he finds at Avra’s.
Kallie shares her classically trained singing voice only with lead vocalist Jesse and fights to keep her heart safe. Jesse feeds on fame and hides more than insecurity beneath his guitar.
The friends surf ego, betrayal, and ambition and head for wipeout.  But somehow, when they’re not looking, Avra’s God changes them all.

Tattered Innocence
Release Date: March 1, 2013

On the verge of bagging the two things he wants most—a sailing charter business and marrying old money—Jake Murray’s fiancée/sole crew member dumps him. Salvation comes in the form of dyslexic, basketball toting Rachel Martin, the only one to apply for the first mate position he slapped on craigslist.
Rachel, on a dead run from an affair with a married man, snags the job on Jake’s boat before she can change her mind. Her salvation is shoving ocean between her and temptation and, just maybe, between her and an oil slick of self-disgust.
The many-layered story weaves together disparate strands into a seamless cord. Mother and daughter look eerily alike—down to their lusts. Their symbiotic bond, forged in the blood of childbirth on the kitchen floor and cemented by their secrets, must be cracked open. A son must go home. Sin must be expunged. 
Tattered Innocence is for anyone who’s ever woken up sealed in a fifty-gallon drum of their guilt.