Raine pushed the beads on her African bracelet back and forth like the balls on an abacus. The last time she felt like this, it hadn’t turned out well

Drew’s forehead creased as he stared at her. If she wasn’t fighting nerves to keep her dinner down, she’d tell him where they’d met.

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.

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 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.” Raine, like every girl in junior high, had spent way too much time mooning over the high school Drew.

Jesse, the camp director who hired her, gave a shrill blast on his whistle. “Welcome to New Smyrna Surf and Sailing Camp orientation.”

The noise ratcheted down. Thirty staffers in aquamarine shirts settled onto the benches lining the porch.

She swallowed and unclenched her fingers from the camp handbook, refusing to heave like she had at college orientation. Her thumb ran over the ridges in her palm where the spiral wire had dug into the flesh.

A guy in surf shorts and flip-flops climbed the steps, laughing at something the girl beside him said. Sun-white cords of hair, crimped like he’d worn it in braids, brushed his thick shoulders. He caught Raine staring. The interest crackling in his blue gaze jolted through her.

She dropped her chin-length hair 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.

Camp Director Jesse 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.

Raine highlighted the camp rules with pink marker till Jesse’s voice blended with the drone of the crickets.

Across the dirt road yellow floodlights bathed a wall of the dark dining hall. The camp office and cabins flanked the cafeteria 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—” Rainey almost slipped out. “Zigler. I’ll be heading up the camp newspaper, teaching summer refresher English.” 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.”

The adrenalin ebbed, and her attention strayed back to the moonlit village of forest-green buildings 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 as though she were a Wooster custom surfboard he was considering buying.

Her breath caught 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 newbie 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 in an orphanage a couple hours outside Entebbe, Uganda.”

Drew’s golden brows stretched into McDonald’s arches.

Well now, that was better.

A sun-browned teen 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 the 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 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 so 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 hair 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 teach in 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. “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. Mama 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 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 seemed to stop 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 nut?”

Raine gritted her teeth. “I’m Raine. She'd 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 her hair dry. 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. And I couldn’t go in until the last person left. 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.”

            “Is that really true?”

            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 wet 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 if she could.

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 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.’“[1]

“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 as hot 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 embrace 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 you 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.”

                                                                                      #

The sand was damp and cool under Raine’s feet. The storm that had threatened in the evening 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 as though 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 on the outside of life looking in, anymore. She was inside 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?

“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 she would 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. “You do have pretty feet. 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 Conch’s Car and Boat 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 her. 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 I took 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. Mama 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, maybe in their country."

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 Samsula 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 Samsula Queen bounced, lulling her almost to a doze. 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 did you come talk 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?"

She smiled. "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 have a crush on you. There were six 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 an alligator juniper 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?

[1] Matthew 22:21