“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 childr
en 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.
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.”