Kicking Eternity (17 page)

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 f
rom 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 l
ife, 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 chop
py 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 si
tting 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 s
pring
s 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
seep
ed
though the trees.

The beauty seemed almost holy. He glanced at Drew
, whose mouth had parted, his e
yes
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 h
e 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?