thirty-two

Forrest slept like a dog without fleas that night in the big house. His parents’ pleasure and pride seemed to confirm that what he’d done was right. He knew there was much more to it than buildings and grounds. But God would lead the right people to him: Christians who knew about running a successful camp.

He would like to have talked more with Sara. He wanted her approval even more than his parents’. But she’d gone home after they’d returned to the house.

The next morning, his pulse quickened when he heard her footsteps coming down the hallway. He sat at the booth, drinking coffee, waiting.

She came into the kitchen, glanced at him, then away. He spoke. She didn’t. She marched past him to the closet and took out the weathering materials and strode out onto the deck.

He followed her outside. “Sara, what’s wrong?”

She ignored him, instead pulling on the gloves so fiercely that one finger poked a hole in the end of a glove. She ignored that too, opened the bottle of cleaner, poured it on the sponge, and began rubbing.

“Sara, what did I do? Is it me? Do you need a doctor?”

“I need a psychiatrist!”

“How many years does it take to become one?”

She turned away so he couldn’t know if she thought that funny or serious.

“You don’t like my camp?”

“I love your camp!”

“Then it’s me,” he said.

“Forrest Paridy,” she began, and the words poured out. “You’re nothing like I thought. You let me believe you were an inmate in a halfway house. You knew I didn’t trust you. You knew I had doubts about you. You let me think you were lacking in ambition, in a future. You deceived me.”

“Sara, I didn’t mean to.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She lifted her chin in that pert manner and looked as if it mattered a great deal. “You don’t have to answer to me.” She began rubbing again. “I’m just. . .just a house cleaner. And a poor one at that. In more ways than one.”

“You’re rich in the ways that count, Sara. And the way you were with those little campers at the lake was remarkable. Don’t you realize how well we could work together?”

Ah! He got her attention with that. “All along I’ve wanted to include girls in my plan. But I need a woman’s help for that. You’d be perfect for that.”

“Oh, Forrest! You don’t need me. You’re putting into practice your commitment to the Lord. You’re not lacking or needy or anything. You’re. . .you’re. . .wonderful!”

He was wonderful? That’s what he’d wanted Sara to think about him from the moment he first saw her. But she made it sound like an insult.

He watched her rubbing away at the furniture. “Sara,” he said. “You don’t need to rub the furniture anymore. It’s weathered.” Without another word, he turned and headed toward the new life he had built for himself.

❧

Sara watched Forrest as he disappeared into the woods, heading in the direction of the back forty. Even when she couldn’t see him, she knew he was there. He’d been there all along. But she hadn’t been able to see Forrest for the trees.

She looked at the furniture. Yes, it had weathered. Time and the sun had done its job.

That’s how God worked with people. Time and the Son weathered people who looked to the Lord to rid them of their surface shine and get to the depth of their hearts.

Sara now understood. God had been weathering her all summer. She knew why God had led her here. And to whom He had led her.

A few minutes later she jogged down the dusty pothole-filled road and caught up with Forrest on the right road. He kept walking, and so did she.

“Did you offer me a job as a camp counselor?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said and grinned.

“Oh, you want me to work without pay. Be a volunteer.”

“What I had in mind,” he said, “was more like a permanent partner. A coworker. As in husband and wife. That is, if you love me.”

“I do,” she said immediately.

“And I love you, Sara. Do you think you could live in that hunting lodge for awhile after we’re married? Someday, I’ll build you a mansion.”

“I don’t want a mansion,” she said. “I think I could adjust to a hunting lodge. Or even the ground on a starry night.”

“Girl after my own heart,” he said.

Sara stopped when they reached the beginning of the paved road. The entry was up. There was no keypad. No gate barring the way.

“That was done late yesterday evening.” Forrest pointed to the circles on the posts at each side of the road. In the circles was a P. A great circle was set in the arch over the roadway. Inside it was a P.

“I guess the Ps stand for Paridy,” Sara said.

“No,” he said. “Look at the engraving across the arch.”

Sara read it. “ ‘But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name,’ John 1:12 (kjv)”

“This is Camp Power,” Forrest said. “Many of the camp sessions will be for children who are troubled, at-risk kids who have low self-esteem and need to feel important. What could make them feel better than the love of God that gives them power to become God’s sons?”

Sara let Forrest see in her eyes the love that she felt in her heart. She didn’t want them to ever have any secrets or doubts between them again. “I love you, Forrest Paridy.”

“I love you,” he said.

Their lips met in a kiss that promised a future and sealed a commitment. Joining hands, Forrest and Sara walked past the Ps and into their life together.