Tying the Knot (25 page)

He had no doubts, however, that gang pride hadn’t been surrendered. Bucko and Ross patrolled their cabins like alpha wolves looking for dissent.

It pained him that he had to police ten-year-olds with the vigilance of a sheriff, but he’d made promises—to parents, to churches . . . to Dr. Simpson.

Noah watched Anne as she followed the children. He had to admit that regardless of her fears, she had true-grit spirit. She knew how to dish out exactly what these kids gave in a way that told him it wasn’t an act. She understood kids and how to deal with them. Unfortunately, they had yet to see her soft side, the side that laughed and teased. The side that nurtured.

Noah gathered the life jackets and hung them on the post near the beach.

Movement on the trail leading behind the lodge caught his attention. He stilled, watching as George emerged from some clasp of forest where he’d hidden. Before Noah could bark at him, the boy started toward the outfitter’s shack, which housed the canoeing and backpacking supplies.

Noah quietly stole after him. He hadn’t cultivated his stealth skills in the hood for nothing.

George crept up the path at a speed that told Noah the kid had felonious plans in his boyish heart. Noah stopped where George had hidden and watched through the trees as George snuck up to the porch and swung himself over and out of view.

Noah narrowed his eyes. Was the kid after food? Noah had a strict rule—no goodies in the tents. Granny D. offered plenty of snacks . . . Noah picked up his pace and edged along the shack.

He heard voices, then a giggle and his heart sank. He peeked around the corner and saw George working male magic on a brunette named Shelly. She had her arms over his shoulders. Noah recognized the moves of a boy who had been introduced to girls way too soon. George moved close, whispered something into her ear, and she laughed again.

Noah felt sick and he fought his roiling temper. Not so many years ago he’d been this kid, enthralled with the intoxicating amphetamine of girls, amazed that they even noticed him let alone melted at his fumbling charm. He dug up a measure of mercy and approached slowly.

Shelly saw him first. Her eyes widened, and she dropped her arms and cleared her throat. When George turned, shock was replaced much too quickly with a chip the size of an iceberg.

Cold silence spoke Noah’s reprimand.

George glared at him.

Noah shook his head. “You know the rules, George.” He stepped aside, and George stalked past him, muttering beneath his breath. Noah grabbed him by the arm, stopping him in midstride. He leaned close to the kid, smelling on him lake water, sweat, and not a little defiance. “Watch yourself, George. I’m not stupid.”

Every muscle in George’s young body stiffened, and he yanked his arm from Noah’s grip.

Noah watched him walk away, a swagger to his step that told Noah that he hadn’t won the war. Noah sighed and turned to Shelly. The young lady rubbed her arms, embarrassment pinking her skin.

“Shelly, you know George is after one thing. Please, don’t be a fool.”
And please, don’t tell me he loves you.

She raised her chin. “George isn’t like that. He cares about me. We’re together.”

Noah shook his head. “Not here, you’re not.”

Shelly harrumphed and marched past him, spiking him a glare that could peel skin, a look inherent in women’s genes. With a heavy heart, he watched her stomp back to her tent.

Noah turned to return to the beach and halted at the sight of Anne, paused in the path. Miss Doom-and-Gloom stood with her hands on her hips, eyes hard on his, her mouth a muted line. His throat thickened at the sorrowful look she gave him. Then she held up one finger and moved her lips, no sound.

One week.

18

Anne sat three seats away from Noah at the dinner table, and she could still feel him gloating. He’d honored her request and hadn’t said two unnecessary words to her in a week, but after seven days without a major shakedown at camp, he didn’t have to actually speak for her to hear him shouting for joy.

She could see it in his eyes. His beautiful soul-piercing eyes. For the first time in a week, she wanted to chance looking at them, to suppose that she’d been wrong. In fact, she wanted him to be right. Wanted to believe that plucking these kids out of their concrete dungeons and letting the forest work its magic had freed them from the despair that hovered like Big Brother. Perhaps she’d been overreacting, listening to her fears instead of hope. Whatever the case, Noah Standing Bear knew how to tame their wild hearts with a smile, crazy games, and a slew of nutty songs he taught them at the campfire each night.

Whoever heard of rapping “To God Be the Glory”? Noah had pulled it off so well the kids rapped the chorus in their free time.

Noah had certainly done a number on her calloused heart in the three weeks since she’d known him. She couldn’t even breathe the same air as the man without feeling his presence as a sweetness to her soul. The delicious ache told her that Noah wasn’t going to be exorcised out of her life by pure will. Even now, his laughter drifted down the table and tugged at her. Wherever he went, Noah’s charm, patience, and gentleness paved a road before him into the souls of the campers. Even George, the local Don Juan, had stopped trying to woo the girls, leaving Anne to wonder what power Noah wielded.

Either that or God had begun to soften their hearts, including hers. The dramas and talks at the campfire each night drew her in and soothed her wounded soul. Only God’s Word, His truth spoken plainly under a brilliant night sky, with the wind reaping the blossoms from the forest, and crickets and bullfrogs singing the melody of twilight, could minister to her ragged spirit. If God had been trying to wrap His divine arms about her and remind her of His love, He couldn’t have picked a better place. Never once in the past ten years, and especially through the trauma, had she doubted God’s existence.

It was His love with which she struggled. Why did it feel so rough and prickly while others had a God who filled their lives with cotton? She’d met other Christians who seemed to live in a puff of soft marshmallow, troubles only glancing off them. Like Noah. Didn’t he ever struggle with his faith?

She wondered if he’d grown up in Minneapolis—hadn’t Joe mentioned that Noah had gone to his hometown to pick up the kids? But Noah simply didn’t fit the image of inner-city gangbanger, at least not on the
inside.
She couldn’t deny it—Noah was morphing back into a real-life hero. Maybe it was time to actually talk to him. As in words, cordially spoken. It was getting nearly impossible to hang on to her fury. Especially when the man looked like he’d drop to his knees in apology if she ever gave him a second of attention.

The awful truth was that she missed him. Missed his kooky jokes, the way he wrestled with Bertha and teased her about his junk-food habits. He’d reached down with his kindness into her frigid, wounded heart and wrapped his strong arms around her. With Noah and his friendship, she felt . . . safe. Even if he had connived and deceived her to get her to stay, he’d gone out of his way to make sure she felt appreciated and welcome.

Lately, he’d been going out of his way to stay out of hers. It cut like a switchblade to see him hanging out with Katie or Melinda, watching their eyes light up when he made them laugh.

But Noah did that to people. Made them feel alive.

Made
her
feel alive.

She ached for his friendship like she’d ache for a missing chunk of her heart.

“Anne, could you pass those fries?” Latisha, the cutest little girl Anne had ever seen, with smooth ebony skin and long dark lashes, pointed down the table.

The young ladies in Katie’s tent—Latisha, Shelly, Akeia, Chantee, and Jasmine—had begun to worm their way into Anne’s heart. She’d given herself license to enjoy their girlish banter as she checked on the kids each night. She found them oddly charming and waging the same battles she’d fought as a twelve-year-old—parents, boys, and makeup.

Anne reached for the plate of French fries as Noah grabbed it. Without giving her heart warning, she connected with his gaze and her insides stumbled. He still had that knee-rubbering effect on her, even more so after a week of trying to dodge him.

He smiled sadly, one side of his mouth turning up, and she knew without a doubt she’d made a terrible mistake. Why had she ever thought she might avoid Noah and survive infection? repel his charming guerilla ambush on her emotions? A blush filled her entire body as she handed Latisha the plate.

Around her, gabbing boys and girls were oblivious to the fact that her heart lay flopping and bleeding in the middle of the table, waiting for Noah to scoop it up and forgive her.

Noah pulled a nylon mask made from a pair of panty hose over his head, intending to appear evil. After all, tonight he was Satan.

He’d been planning the salvation drama for months, even tried it once during a youth event at church before Easter. Few plays could compare with this symbolic enactment of Satan prowling a kid’s soul. Ross made an excellent sinner, with a backpack of rocks hanging from his shoulders, despair written across his unshaven face. Bucko, glorious in head-to-toe white, was just the man to represent Christ. Katie and Melinda looked devastatingly seductive as “drugs” and “worldly love.” As they applied makeup, the girls discussed their campers in low tones.

He could hardly believe they’d managed seven days without a problem. And the campers’ souls seemed as fertile as a Nebraska cornfield. Tired, dirty, and not a little afraid, they’d finally started to respond. A day on the ropes course had pushed them to their last nerves, and Katie reported that two of her girls had begun to respond with curiosity to their nightly Bible reading.

Hope felt like the breath of the Almighty drawing through him. Tonight, Lord willing, the hearts of these street kids would break for their sins, and in the shattering of those formidable walls, God’s love would pour through. Noah expected to see a great divine work before the sparking campfire tonight.

He’d already seen a hint of it earlier today when Anne met his gaze. He’d nearly heard fireworks bursting inside his head, and when she looked away and blushed, he knew that, indeed, she’d missed him too. She had pushed her fries through her ketchup, attempting nonchalance, but twice after that, he felt her eyes on him. Only his commitment to her wishes had kept him from running to her after supper.

Noah was banking on the fact that he had four more weeks to capture her heart and show her she meant more to him than a lunch ticket. He didn’t know what she thought his motives were, but he had a heart-wrenching suspicion that she’d ranked him a little lower than a toadstool.

A ranking he intended to improve.

“How do I look?” Bucko flexed his muscular arms in the white turtleneck.

Noah liked the image of a powerful Savior that the guy presented. Yes, these kids would respond to an African-American with a serious physique representing God Almighty. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”

Bucko frowned. “Man, I am so not on your side. Look at you! You’re evil incarnate.”

Noah didn’t have to look in the mirror to picture himself. He knew perfectly well how easily he could don the part of dark and sinister. He smiled wryly. “Let’s go. Granny D. and Anne have their hands full.”

Twilight had blanketed the lake, turned the water platinum, and calmed the forest air. These nightly campfires, with their smell of burning wood spicing the air and sparks shooting to the heavens as a backdrop, made the perfect setting for Noah’s Soul Talks. He used a mix of Christian rap—with Bucko and Ross keeping beat—army chants, and monologues to get these kids’ attention. Afterward, the counselors fertilized his talks with the truth of God’s Word.

Now, as Noah tromped down to the campfire dressed completely in black, he marveled at how God took a man with darkness in his heart, wiped him clean, and set him in a beautiful place with a ministry that made him feel alive. Noah certainly regretted his wicked former life, but remembering those moments lived on the edge made him ever more grateful for his salvation.

Granny D. was barking at the kids to sit down, her no-nonsense voice making a superb dent in the murmuring. Anne tended the campfire. She’d turned into a regular Girl Scout over the past week, and it wasn’t lost on Noah that she’d grabbed his camping dream with both hands, diving in with guts and gusto. She’d even begun to warm to the campers, and according to Katie, spent more time each night hanging around after devotions.

He couldn’t deny the swelling hope in his heart that God had bigger plans for her here. Hadn’t the Almighty told him to trust? As he approached the campfire, it warmed him to the core to see Anne laugh, the firelight illuminating her face in a precious glow. When she glanced his way, his stomach dropped right to his knees. He grinned at her, but her smile dimmed, and for a moment he thought he saw terror flicker across her face.

He was dressed like a terrorist.

Just when he was hoping to crush that unfortunate impression. Before he could shake his head, she looked away and joined Katie’s campers, wary eyes on the approaching troupe. Noah and the players paused outside the light of the fire and waited.