~Cammie~
The drive was quiet.
David Connor. Just another jerk.
The truth? Well, she probably had been putting him on a pedestal. It wasn’t hard to do, given what his job was here, given how well he’d done it, given how much she admired his heart, and given how attractive she was finding him.
That was mortifying, honestly. The way she felt was mortifying, because he was like her little brother. And just as she was telling herself to get over it, that he wasn’t really her brother and all... well, then, he’d come out and very nearly acknowledged that she had a crush on him, that she was checking him out, and that she thought he was amazing.
And then? He told her that he was a pervert.
Even as they drove across the country, she recalled any number of nights when the peeping situation could have happened, pulling her jacket tighter around her and glancing over to him as he drove silently.
Good on Paul Connor for coming down hard on him for that. And good on David for having learned his lesson. And good on her for vowing to hold it against him for a good, long while. That would certainly take care of any crush she was feeling for him. As if! His attractiveness had plummeted with the vision of his geeky self standing on his bookshelf checking her out.
Except not. Because even as she shot him glares, she had to admit that he was still... well, really cute.
Seriously, Cammie? Good grief...
And he was remorseful. She could see that, too. Convicted and regretful. Very, very sorry.
No one was inherently good on their own, but David Connor had plenty of good in him, all thanks to Jesus, all given because of grace.
She was being too tough on him.
“I’m sorry again,” he said softly as she continued watching him.
“You know, David,” she said, “you were just a dumb kid.”
“I was,” he said.
She looked out the window, thinking about how she’d been plenty dumb herself back then. Hanging out with Charity and Hope, dismissing David and his geeky friends as being practically non-existent, ignoring them most of the time they all were in the same area, much less the same house. She remembered laughing as Charity and Hope had talked about David as though he was still an annoying kindergartener, even when he’d been nearly a teenager.
Annoying kindergartener nothing. He’d clearly been more grown up than she’d figured. She’d underestimated him, that was for sure.
She glanced over at him again, still frowning as she did so.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, glancing at her hopefully.
“You don’t need to,” she said, reasoning that it was dumb to hold onto a grudge, especially one stemming from something that had happened so long ago. And especially since David was so obviously a changed man. “It’s okay, David.”
“I just said I’d make it up to you,” he said. “And you told me no.” A long pause. “Don’t you even want to know what I was planning?”
At this, at the eagerness in his voice, she had to fight back a smile. “Well, is it something good?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “It will have you completely forgiving me and thanking God that He ordained for you to come here and join the work going on.”
“Yeah, about that,” she said, looking over at him, “I talked to those girls. Katrina, Laina, and Elizabeth.”
“Good girls,” he said, releasing a breath, clearly relived that she was moving on with him. “Very faithful in all that they’re doing with the church out in Swakop.” He smiled. “Though they do tend to roll their eyes just a little when we go back to sports and roughhousing and –”
“I can imagine,” Camille noted. “But they did tell me about all the ways your ministry here has changed their lives. This is real, meaningful work. I can’t wait to jump right in.”
She watched as he smiled at this. “Sooner than later,” he said. “School starts next week. They’ll be coming back to town in a few days.”
“They mentioned that,” she said.
“The hostels will be full again, and Swakopmund will change completely. From a fairly empty tourist town to a teenage wonderland of sorts. Students just waiting to hear the Gospel and carry it back home with them on school breaks.”
“And you get to be a part of it all,” she said. “Excuse me, we get to be a part of it all.”
“That’s exactly right,” he said.
“I want to see where it all takes place,” she said. “Can you take me by and show me where you have church, where you do your group meetings, where you throw your parties?”
“Well, there goes the surprise,” he said, sighing dramatically. “That’s how I was going to make it up to you.”
“That works,” she said, smiling at him at last.
“But before that,” he said, “I’ll take you for your first helping of fish and chips, right on the beach.”
And this? Sounded even better.
“Awesome,” she said, settling into her seat and anticipating her first glance of the ocean.