Kicking Eternity (4 page)

#

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.