Tying the Knot (13 page)

Anne had no trouble envisioning the campers’ chubby grins, the delight in their innocent eyes, and their gleeful laughter coming from the beach. “Are you sure it’s wise to have both boys and girls here at the same time?” she had asked earlier, as she swept out the cement pad for the tent. She hadn’t missed the fact that the tents were well-distanced from each other, located on both sides of the wide center path that acted like the Jordan River.

“Well, part of our goal is to teach the fellas to treat ladies with respect. They need the practice. Besides, we’ll keep eagle eyes on them. We have one counselor and a junior counselor for every five campers, so I think we’ll be able to keep them in line.”

She had to admit that the camper-counselor ratio seemed a bit intense, especially for church kids who should know how to behave themselves. But Noah seemed to know what he was doing, and she couldn’t ignore the anticipation budding in her chest. Whatever happened here this summer, it would be magical.

A whippoorwill called out over the dark water, and occasionally against the crackle of hot coals, she heard a gentle plop as a fish slapped the surface. Beside her Noah had folded his hands and was staring into the landscape.

“I’m impressed with your camp, Noah.” A small lump formed in her throat. She had made it clear that she wouldn’t be staying, hadn’t she? One day. She’d said that out loud. Twice. Now that she thought about it, the second time it might have been a dying echo in her mind.

“Be impressed with God. He did this.”

She looked heavenward, at the streak of the Milky Way in the velvet night. “Yes, He did.”

“God has a history of impressive acts. I try to remember them when I’m feeling like life has hit the skids.” Noah picked up a log and set it in the fire. Sparks showered the night. “The only way to survive the dark moments is to remember the ones in the light.”

“But what if the dark moments make no sense?” Anne watched as flames flickered around the log in a blistering embrace. “What if they just seem . . . harsh?” Here they went again, wandering into the no-man’s-land of her wounded spirit. Only now, somehow, it didn’t seem like such an invasion.

“You mean like when God let Satan wipe out Job’s livestock and family, and then let Satan attack the man with boils?”

Anne had to smile. She liked a man who knew his Bible. “Yes. Now doesn’t that seem a bit harsh to you? Or take Moses. There he was, leading a bunch of ungrateful, thirsty Israelites across the desert. He loses his temper and instead of speaking to a stone wall like God commanded, he whacks it. I would too. And for that felony, Moses doesn’t enter the Promised Land. Harsh.”

Noah chuckled. “Well, you’re certainly a woman who’s thought it through.”

“C’mon, I told you my father was a pastor. We were fed Bible stories for supper.” Anne moved her marshmallow away from the flames and found a new nesting place. The marshmallow had begun to bubble brown at the tip.

“I think whenever we encounter something that God does that doesn’t mesh with our view of Him, we need to take a closer look. Why did He do it? Confusion is a perfect opportunity to understand God better.” Noah stood up, slapped his hands. “Stick around one more second?”

How could she say no to the texture of pleading in those sweet brown eyes?

Noah ran toward the lodge and returned moments later with a guitar. Anne just about fell off her log when he sat down and began to strum. Noah Standing Bear certainly knew how to tangle her stereotypes.

And his voice, like warm syrup, went right to her bones. A soft, sweet tenor that had obviously done time in a choir. He closed his eyes, and the sight of a man, vulnerable before God, nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Who was this man?

“‘Seek ye first, the kingdom of God, and His righteousness. And all these things will be added unto you. . . .’”

She closed her eyes, listening, wanting to join in the familiar tune, fighting the sudden constriction in her chest. Tears burned the back of her eyes. Seek His kingdom. Seek Him. She had sought Him . . . at one time. But since that fateful day, she’d barely looked at God. Didn’t want to face the One who had turned her life inside out.

Noah’s song ended without her making a blubbering fool of herself. She gave him an insincere smile, wondering if disappointment ringed his eyes.

“Thank you for your help today, Anne.” Noah strummed the guitar, the tune haunting but melodic as it filtered into the mosaic of other night songs. “I don’t know what pain you’ve gone through, but I know you confronted it to help me today.”

The lump returned and with it an annoying glaze of tears. Then her marshmallow flamed. Anne waved the torch and screamed, spraying pieces of marshmallow into the campfire.

Noah grabbed the stick. “Stop!” He blew it out, laughing. “I see you need another lesson in proper marshmallow management.”

“Listen, Mr. Eagle Scout,” Anne said, fighting giggles, thankful she had a distraction for her tears, “there’s more to life than roasting marshmallows.”

“Doubtful. Roasting marshmallows is key in developing character. You have to be patient. Seek the perfect embers. Learn to stay out of the blaze.” He looked down at her, stern. “And most importantly, you have to be willing to eat the burned part.”

“I happen to love burnt marshmallows.” She reached for the stick, hiding a grimace.

He crouched in front of her, a smile on his face, his eyes warm. He lowered his voice. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Anne.” He blew softly on the charred mallow. The flaky black skin puffed away, leaving only soft cream. “Sometimes the things that look the most ruined are really hiding the prize underneath.”

He handed her the treat, but his gaze, twinkling with some sort of magic, held hers. She heard only the beating of her heart, smelled only the fragrance of his masculine woodsy charm.

No, Noah wasn’t such a big, scary hoodlum after all.

8

Noah knew it was a dream. The voice of sanity in the back of his brain chanted softly, but the smells, sounds, and tastes of that night still constricted his chest.

In his sleep, the Southern Comfort burned his throat and pitched his stomach. The world tilted around him. He smelled the enticing mix of perfume and hair gel and felt the soft-as-a-whisper touch of lips. “This homeboy’s putty,” a voice cooed. A smattering of laughter, then it mixed into the clamor of voices and music. The world spun again, a menagerie of bright, vibrant colors. Impressions, none of them distinct. Senses melded together until he couldn’t extract reality from reverie.

Noah woke up hard, his heart pounding, feeling sick to his pores. The darkness filling the room felt thick and oppressive. He kicked back his blanket, thankful for the cold night air that snapped him to consciousness. Still the past filled his brain.

He’d never forget, no matter how he tried to erase that moment, when he’d awoken in a strange bed, feeling and smelling like he’d been run over by a garbage truck. And to complete the sensation, his mouth had tasted like he’d licked the inside of a Dumpster. Then he saw the girl next to him and horror hit him like a fist. One of the VL homegirls had her arm curled around his body as if she owned it.

Noah sank his head into his hands, hearing again the laughter, seeing it on L’il Lee’s face, in Shorty Mac’s eyes. Lecherous, victorious laughter, as if he’d passed some sort of test. It embedded his heart like a stain, burned him like acid. Pursued him like a wolf.

He still hadn’t outrun that night.

Noah trembled, cold sweat prickling his body. The nightmares always tore a swath through the fabric of his heart, ripping to shreds the sheen of cleanness he’d created in Christ. He groaned, then rolled off the couch onto all fours. The wood-planked floor cooled his hands. A hint of dawn invaded the room, golden light seeping across the wood. The things he’d done and the person he’d been sometimes threatened to consume him.

He had no business cultivating a relationship with Anne Lundstrom. She was clean, pure, light, and joy. Despite his new-creation-in-Christ status, he still had scars etched in his heart, scars that he’d never erase.

Pastor Dan’s voice echoed in his brain.
You have to trust Him to make you into the person He wants you to be.
How he wished he could be someone without blemish, someone worthy of Anne’s heart.

He wanted to tell himself that his only desire yesterday had been to give Anne a vision for what could happen here. But once she’d arrived, bringing the sunshine with her smile, his tongue glued to his mouth. He’d resorted to praying that perhaps, just by inhaling the fresh breeze, by seeing the crucible of God’s fabulous creation, Anne would dive into his project.

But by evening he’d moved past hoping that she’d stay for the summer to dreaming she might stay . . . forever. He’d been wildly jigging into the realms of fantasy, wanting to believe she smiled for him, laughed at his jokes. That the shine in her eyes was generated by her own budding dreams, and that she’d spent the day at Wilderness Challenge not because of guilt or obligation but because she wanted to be with him, a man who wanted to know her more.

Noah touched his forehead to the floor, fighting a swell of nausea. Anne was light-years out of his universe. Yes, he’d prayed and dreamed for a woman, a partner who would be everything he wasn’t and more, a woman who lived to change lives, to love the unlovable. It did dangerous things to his heart to hope that person could be a lady with hazel green eyes and rich chestnut hair. Anne had made it unequivocally clear that her future was here in Deep Haven.

And his was in Minneapolis.

But she was so beautiful, with an innocence written on her face that made all his protective instincts spring to life. He didn’t know what kind of demons she had roaming about her past, but he wanted to grab each one by the throat and free her. She’d probably never even envisioned the life he’d lived, hadn’t the slightest clue what it felt like to be so deep in sin you started your day gasping. If she harbored even one inkling about the type of man he’d been, well, she’d turn and peel out of his life so fast the breeze in her wake would turn him cold.

No, he was treading dangerous territory hoping she’d return today. He’d enjoyed the way she laughed, the texture of her beautiful smile, tentative yet fascinated. And something about the fragrance of a woman who spent the day not caring what she looked like but rather about what she did tugged at his heart. He wanted to believe trust finally hued her incredible eyes. And a man worthy of trust ran from temptation and the appearance of evil.

Anne shouldn’t be here. Not alone. Not with him. That realization felt like a sledgehammer in his chest. He groaned, then rolled over on his back and stared at the beamed ceiling. He liked her way too much for a man who was supposed to be her boss, way too much to invite her back for another round of roasted hot dogs and marshmallows in front of a romantic campfire. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d be offering her his heart instead of a job. Even if in his wildest dreams she would cater to that thought, he knew better. He might be a saved and cleansed member of the body of Christ, but next to Anne, he felt like a tattered refugee straight out of some war-torn country.

Anne Lundstrom shouldn’t be within ten miles of Noah Standing Bear alone.

One more night sitting under the canopy of the heavens, listening to a loon call skip across the lake, watching the moon turn her hair to copper might make him lose his mind.

He might take her into his arms.

And wouldn’t that kindle trust in her eyes? Just when he might have convinced her he wasn’t the local thug.

Why couldn’t God supply a hairy, muscular, rough-edged paramedic for his camp nurse? No, the Almighty had to provide a pretty, petite woman, with an attitude that packed a punch and a smile that could turn a man inside out.

Then again, Anne’s smile, her tenderness were exactly what the street kids needed. Especially if they got hurt. Noah had more raw toughness than Wilderness Challenge ever needed. Obviously God knew his staffing needs better than he did.

Still, a smart man would look his weakness straight in the face, ignore the pang in his chest, and tell her not to come back.

At least not until Saturday.

Anne sat in the hospital parking lot feeling giddy. How odd that one day with a near stranger could send her heart skipping like a teenager’s before prom. She ran her hand through Bertha’s thick fur. “You liked him too, didn’t you?” She rubbed her nose on the dog’s wet snout. Bertha sniffed her, then responded with a sloppy kiss. Noah evidently had a positive effect on all women.

Anne had barely slept the night through, replaying the way he stood in the yard, hands in his jeans pockets, watching her drive away. The wind had mussed his dark hair, and the return-to-me look in his eyes had her promising the summer to him.

She admitted that her fledgling decision to commit to Wilderness Challenge for the summer wasn’t completely altruistic. Was it so terrible to surrender to his warm friendship or his honorable project? She’d been numb for so long, it frightened her to know that a man she’d barely met made her feel so alive, so wildly hopeful. She hadn’t come to Deep Haven looking for romance.