Kicking Eternity (10 page)

#

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.”

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 studi
ed 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 st
o
mping 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
ignor
ed 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 o
ut 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.
T
he sugary flavor of the gum filled her senses.

#

Early evening sun and humidity wrapped around Rain
e 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.”