Kicking Eternity

Chapter Eleven

Chapter 11

Raine stood back as Cal scraped the wooden teacher’s chair into place in the middle of her classroom. He motioned for her to sit down. Even though she spent hours in this room every day, the scent of turpentine and the fainter petroleum jelly smell of paint made it feel like Cal’s.

His fingers gripped her shoulders, radiating warmth in every direction. He angled her into the sunset pouring through the open window. Placing her hands on the Bible in her lap, he stepped back to peer at her with the same intense look he’d worn since she walked in. He leaned toward her. The pads of his fingers pressed against her cheek moving her face a millimeter to the left.

Cal walked to his easel, but his touch was still on her skin. Orange light trapped her like a spotlight. Cal’s gaze unnerved her. He focused on the canvas, and she let the air out of her lungs. She watched him dab his brush into brown then red, blending them on his pallet.

Jeremiah 24:7 lay open on her knees. She read the words, praying them for Cal. I will give them a heart to know me, that I am the Lord. They will be my people, and I will be their God, for they will return to me with all their heart.

Shadows lengthened in the room. The clink of dishes being cleared away in the dining hall, shouts and the snap of a football on the athletic field drifted through the window. Somewhere, someone sang a folk song. Maybe it was Drew getting ready for the elementary kids’ campfire. She wished she was anywhere but pinned like a bug on a board by Cal’s gaze.

Please, Lord, give Cal a heart to know You.

“Praying?” Cal’s quiet voice boomed in the room.

“Yeah.”

“Why do you pray if God already knows?”

“Jesus told us to pray.” Raine shifted on the chair. “The ‘why’ doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Cal didn’t look up from the easel.

“I talk to God about the things I’m concerned about. He loves me and cares about what’s important to me.”

“If God is God, He’ll do what He wants no matter what you say.”

“He does what’s best for me.”

“You believe that?” Cal dipped his brush in paint the color of skin.

“You don’t?”

“What do you do when God says, ‘no?’ ”

Like not taking her crush away? “Endure. God uses our suffering to shape our character.” She looked at the thick cords of blond hair that brushed his shoulders, the sun-bleached brows that stood out against the tan of his skin. White hair curled on his muscular arms. She was going to have some kind of character after spending the summer fighting her feelings.

Cal looked up and caught her staring. Her eyes darted toward the window, her cheeks burning. When she looked back at Cal, she saw a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth and eyes. It reminded her of one she’d seen and dismissed earlier.

“Why are you quizzing me on prayer?”

“You think I have an ulterior motive?”

“You tell me.”

He sat on the table top behind him. “You were sitting there like you were afraid of your own skin. I wanted to paint your fire. Pretty much a no-brainer to get you going on a topic that lights your passion.” He shrugged and grinned at her.