Kicking Eternity (18 page)

Man, he was already thinking marriage. How did he get here? Raine was the kind of girl you had to marry to touch. Anybody could tell you that. How could waking up in bed with Raine for the rest of his life be a bad thing? And, hey, she would validate his virginity—a parking stub stamped at Pac Sun.

He was going to have to suck it up if he wanted Raine. She would see through bogus religiosity in zero to five seconds. 

The sky cooled to magenta as he caught a curl. He
lay
on his stomach
,
paddling for all he was worth. Up! His feet welded to the wax on his board. The dregs of the day reflected off the water slicked fiberglass. He tasted salt on his teeth. The wave held all the way to shore. “Sweet! Nice job,” he shouted at the heavens. Well, that was a start.

He ripped open the Velcro ankle band, hefted the board onto his shoulder, and waded through the mush that had been his wave. “And a pretty dang good job on Raine.”

All of a sudden, he remembered something Raine said. That sunset was God’s kiss.
The wave was a gift.
Well, check that out
.
Maybe they were moving past détente.

#

Drew spat the saltwater out of his mouth as he jogged from the surf. Cal was in love with Rainey. The realization he’d b
een resisting ever since he saw Raine
y
’s portrait
hit him full force.

Cal didn’t share Rainey’s commitment to God, but that could change. Maybe it was changing right now. He grabbed his towel off the sand and rubbed his head dry. He didn’t need this right before he had to be spiritually “on” to lead worship at elementary campfire.

He didn’t want to pray for Cal to connect with God. Weren’t Jesse and the rest of Cal’s family taking care of that job? But they
hadn’t heard Cal’s questions.
Sometimes God asked too much.

He dropped to his knees in the soft sand.
Use my words to convince Cal to let You run him. Not what I want, but what You want.
He got up and walked toward the circle of light around the campfire.

#

Raine watched Drew unlatch his guitar case. He sat on a log in the sand and tuned the guitar.
Sand clung to his knees.
The campfire crackled in the deep end of the day.

Raine squeezed her arms across her stomach trying to quell the nervousness.
Her eyes flicked to the note card in her hand.
She wasn’t used to talking to a group as large as the elementary campfire would be.

“Rainey!”

Her head jerked up and she realized this wasn’t the first time Drew had called her name.

“Come pray.” He patted the log beside him. She sat down, and he held out his hand to her.

She looked at the lines in his palm and grasped his hand tightly.

Drew eyed her. “You’re nervous.”

“A little.” That was a gross understatement.

“Right.” He bowed his head. “Lord, help Rainey to relax. Use us both. We surrender our minds, bodies, spirits to You for the job that lies ahead.”

“Lord, keep me aware my confidence is in You and not in my ability to tell the story well. We love You. Thank You for giving us this chance to work for You.” She squeezed Drew’s hand and looked into his eyes. “Do you always pray, or was that just for me?”

“What do you think?”

He was grinning so wide and holding on to her hand—she scrambled around to remember what they were talking about. “That you pray.”

He relaxed his grip. “Sometimes I forget. You should help me every night with campfire, then I wouldn’t forget.”

“We’ll talk—afterward—if  I live through this.”

The campers hopped over the seawall like popping corn, their counselors futilely trying to keep them corralled. Missy waved a big two-armed wave as she stepped onto the sand. Raine took a seat away from Drew so she could watch him sing and play. She didn’t want to think too much about why that was such a treat.

The children s
quirmed and flopped on the sand
. Drew strummed his guitar. The kids took this as an invitation to shout out song requests. “Rolling Over the Billows!” “Granny’s in the Cellar!” “The Watermelon song!” “I Don’t Know Why She Swallowed a Fly!”

Drew stood and launched into, “Fish heads, fish heads, rolly-polly fish heads. Fish heads, fish heads, eat ‘em up. Yum!”

She sat with her chin in her hands watching Drew.
There’s a guy who knows how to have fun.
Drew paced back and forth between the fire and the children. The
kids
shouted the words along with Drew. “I took a fish head out to a restaurant. He didn’t eat much, so I ate him! Fish heads, fish heads, rolly-polly fish heads. Fish heads, fish heads, eat ‘em up. Yum!”

Six verses later, Drew shifted into “Sipping Cider,” obviously another of the kids’ favorites. She was beginning to see Drew’s tactic—wear the kids out so they would listen quietly to the Bible story. At least this song was more singing than shouting.
She would have loved camp if she’d gone as a kid.
Sadness buzzed her head and she shooed it away. Well,
here she was. Not too late to enjoy it.

The song wound down. Drew sang, “
A
nd they sipped cider lip to lip.” His eyes
found
her. She blushed as the kids warbled the line a second time.

Drew grinned at her for a split second before he swung away and belted, “Give me wax for my board, keep me surfin’ for the Lord. Give me wax on my board, I pray. Halleluiah!”

Was he flirting with her? She shook her head. It was
just
Drew teasing her as usual. Her gaze drifted to the ocean. That had to be Cal paddling hard to catch a wave. Orange light lit his hair. He was up now, riding the hollow of the arc with his arms stretched out for balance. The wave churned behind him as though it were chasing him. Cal curved the board into the waning wave and disappeared into the curl.

Drew eased the kids into worship songs, and finally, quiet. “Lord, talk to us through Rainey. Amen.”

She warmed as though Drew had trained a car lot searchlight on her.

“Kids,” Drew set his guitar into its case, “I know you guys all like Rainey. Listen carefully because she’s not as loud as I am!” He was doing everything he could to make this easy for her.

In a blink she was into the story—one she’d known by heart at their age. This was what she loved to do. At the end, she asked, “Tell me what you got out of the story.”

“God loves sheep!” an older boy with a bandana tied around his forehead said. A few snickers followed.

“God loves me—very much,” A little blond girl in pigtails said.

A girl in the back added, “Even when I do wrong things.”

Drew stood up when the kids began to repeat each other. “Is there anything you want to say to God after hearing the story? You can come up, and Rainey or I will pray with you.” Drew strummed quietly and the children
’s voices floated up with the sparks from the campfire
.

The last of the children knotted around the fire, tossing in pinecones and watching them sputter and pop.
Their counselors snaked them back
toward camp
along the street
.

Drew added a log to the fire. Her gaze traveled back to where she’d last seen Cal surfing. He perched on his board b
etween the surf and the fire
, the moon illumining his shirtless shoulders. How much of the story had he heard? What went through his head?

#

The elementary kids clustered around the campfire. Like every other evening Cal surfed, Drew
sung
and play
ed
his guitar. His gaze
tripped over
Raine. This was the first time he’d seen her at Drew’s campfire. He stopped paddling and sat up on his board.

Raine stood. Her mouth moved, but he was too far away to hear.

He grabbed his board and jogged out of the surf.

“I always picture the sheep who wanders off as a black sheep,” Raine was saying, “You know, the cowlick in the flock of a hundred sheep. He’s the sheep who doesn’t like to follow directions, learns everything the hard way.”

He turned his board fin-up and sat on it.
Mom
had always called him her little sheep when he was a kid because of his curly hair. And he was the family black sheep. He wondered if Raine was thinking of him while she told the story. Had she pegged him as a guy who learned everything the hard way? Cal shook his head, flinging water droplets onto his skin and board.

“The protector of the sheep leaves the sheep in a safe spot and goes looking for the ornery sheep. He will keep looking until he finds him. Do you know why? Because he loves that black sheep with his whole heart. You can tell because he carries him home on his shoulders and throws a party to celebrate finding him.”

He lay back on his board watching a sliver of moon creep up over the line where water met sky. God loved him the way he was—someone who submitted poorly, with an affection for intoxicants. He’d heard that story a hundred times and never applied it to himself.

The sky
deepened to navy, layered with indigo
; a faint
fuchsia
ribbon hovered above the trees. Stars debuted over the ocean one by one. And Cal again felt the caress of God.

Childhood Bible verses broke loose like driftwood that had been caught in a logger jam. First,
This is love; not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.
Then,
But because of
H
is great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.
And,
God is love.

Any doubt the sunset had been God’s communication with him ebbed away with the verses. God loved him. Truth seared to his core. A snippet from a song the kids were singing wrapped around him. “Into the marvelous light I’m running, away from darkness and shame…”

He couldn’t wait to tell Raine.

Cal hung back in the dark away from the campfire. The last cabin of elementary kids scooted over the seawall to head for camp. Raine stood beside the fire talking and waving her arms while Drew added another log to the fire. Kallie and Jillian, the first arrivals for the teen campfire, inched toward the circle of firelight. 

Maybe he should walk over and tell them about his encounter with God, but it felt like spun glass inside him—fragile and hard to put into words. He didn’t want to do anything to disturb what had happened. He’d catch Raine later, when she was alone.

#

Aly closed her eyes. The pain in her ankle throbbed with the pulsing chirp of the crickets
. She repositioned the plastic Z
ip-loc of ice. Yellow light glared from the dining hall porch. She picked loose a chip of white paint off the gazebo bench with her fingernail trying to focus on something other than pain.

Who was walking up the road from the beach? “Cal! Over here.” It hurt to yell.

He walked over. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?”

“I wrenched my ankle playing Capture the Flag with the teens. Jesse went to get the van to take me to emergency.”

Cal sat down and squinted at her foot. “Oh man, Aly, how did you do it?”

“Tripped over a wire the landscapers—probably Gar—put up to protect some plantings.” She held her hand up to stop Cal’s question. “Do I ever know where he is?”

“Why don’t you break up with him?”

“Yeah, that would be something new—me breaking up with a guy.”

Headlights shone on the dirt road, then Jesse wheeled the camp van around in front of the dining hall to get as close to the gazebo as possible.

“Cal!” Jesse jumped out. “I’m supposed to be at campfire.
Can
you run Aly to ER?”

“You got it.” Cal positioned one shoulder under her arm and eased her to a standing position.

“Thanks, bro.” Jesse supported her on her other side. “Check to see if her mom is working tonight.”

She gritted her teeth.
“Hello! Guys, can we get moving? I’m dying here.”
She
put all her weight on Jesse and Cal while she swung her good foot forward. “Nice of you two to be close to the same height,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Anything for you, Al.” In the yellow light from the dining hall porch, Cal grinned inches from her face, a shot of anesthesia. But b
y the time Cal pulled into the emergency room breezeway, tears
ran
down her face. “Hurts,” she said when Cal opened her door.