Leaving, Page 2

  “We’ll talk later.”

  “Okay.” Bailey returned the hug and they moved into the aisle with the rest of the family. The knowing in her mother’s eyes made Bailey grateful. Bailey kept no secrets from her mom and, because of that, they would always be close.

  Anyway, the conversation would have to come later. Ashley Baxter Blake and her husband, Landon, had invited them over for dinner, which meant a house full of people. It was a Baxter family tradition, and at least once a month the Baxters invited Bailey’s family too. The more people the better — that was Ashley’s theory. She and Landon bought the old farmhouse from John Baxter, Ashley’s father. Bailey was sure she saw a wistfulness in John’s eyes whenever they gathered for dinner. A longing for days gone by maybe. Days that hadn’t lasted any more than the ones now would last for the Flanigan family.

  Bailey couldn’t imagine raising a family for decades in a house and then coming back only as a visitor. But it was better than having strangers live in the place. Especially with all the memories that still lived between the walls and windows.

  On the drive to the Baxter house, Bailey caught herself more aware than usual that even this — all eight of them traveling somewhere after church — wouldn’t last. She was almost twenty-one, after all, in her third year at Indiana University. She leaned against the car door and listened to her brothers’ conversations around her. Connor was seventeen and closest to Bailey in age. This was his junior year, and he was about to begin his final football season as starting quarterback — throwing for more than 200 yards a game, the way Cody had taught him.

  Connor was class president and debating themes for the Spring Fling dance — an annual costume event at Clear Creek High. “I’m thinking ‘Meant to Be.’” Connor glanced back at his brothers Shawn and Justin — both sophomores — and BJ, a freshman. “I mean, I kinda like it. What do you think? ‘Meant to Be.’”

  “Meant to be what?” Justin frowned.

  In the seat beside Bailey, the youngest Flanigan boy—tow-headed twelve-year-old Ricky—giggled. “Like, you come as Batman, but you tell everyone you meant to be Robin?”

  A round of laughter filled the Suburban. Bailey chuckled to herself and gave Connor a helpless look. The younger boys had a point.

  Connor flashed a patient, crooked grin. “Not like that.” He waited until he had their attention again. “Meant to be, like Batman and Cat Woman — two characters who were meant to be together.”

  “Or maybe just sort of ‘Meant to Bee.’” Ricky let loose another few delightful bouts of laughter. “Like a bumblebee. Then everyone could dress in yellow and black.”

  “Yeah, or maybe Meant to B.” Shawn’s laugh was always louder than the others. “You know … the letter B. That way everyone could dress as something that started with a B.”

  “Okay … you’re all comedians.” Connor gave a mock surrender. “I’ll ask the leadership class.”

  From the front passenger seat, their mom looked over her shoulder. “I like it.” Her smile was kind, her eyes thoughtful. “A cowboy and a cowgirl … a doctor and a nurse … that sort of thing.”

  “Yeah, only if Justin goes with Kayla, he’ll have to be the nurse.” Shawn was working to keep his laughter down, but he was losing the battle. “Because she’s a whiz kid at science. She wants to be a surgeon.”

  The conversation soothed the rough edges of Bailey’s soul, helping her find perspective after an hour of being flooded with memories of Cody. This was her reality now. And though Pastor Mark was right — this season wouldn’t last — for now it was exactly where she wanted to be.

  “Have you heard from Brandon?” Her dad caught Bailey’s attention in the rearview mirror. “Since they pulled the movie?”

  “He texted me yesterday.” The memory warmed her heart. “He’s so different from the guy he used to be. His faith means everything to him.”

  “And the media knows it.” He looked happy about the fact. “I’m proud of that young man. Very proud.”

  Bailey’s mom angled herself so she could see Bailey. “His manager knows it, too. That’s why they shelved the movie, I’m sure.”

  “Of course … I agree, definitely.”

  The boys still chattered about the upcoming dance, but the family could easily hold more than one conversation at a time. Bailey slid forward so her parents could hear her. “Brandon knows that’s the reason. Everyone loved us in Unlocked, but his manager doesn’t want Brandon to seem soft to the Hollywood crowd.”

  “Casting him in a movie about a NASCAR driver will definitely keep that from happening.” Her dad raised his brow. “And Brandon’s doing his own stunts, is that true?”

  “It is.” Bailey wasn’t happy about that part. “I’m still trying to talk him out of it.”

  “Next time you two chat, tell him we said hi.” Her dad kept his eyes on the road. “I pray for him every day.” He caught her eye one more time. “The same way I pray for Cody.” He hesitated. “Which reminds me … Matt Keagan asked about you the other day. He figured out you were my daughter about a week after the season ended. Every time he stops in the weight room he doesn’t let up.”

  Bailey laughed under her breath. “That’s nice dad.” She shared a look with her mom. “Matt Keagan has a million girls in love with him. I’ll pass.”

  “He is cute, though.” Her mom’s eyes twinkled — proof that she was only having fun.

  “Of course he’s cute.” Bailey shook her head, enjoying the lighthearted silliness of the discussion. “He’s the strongest Christian in sports, he wears a wristband with Philippians 4:13 on it, and he takes mission trips to Ethiopia whenever he has a spare weekend. He’s perfect.” She laughed, and the feeling lifted her heart. “I heard he’s dating the daughter of a pastor in South Africa.”

  “Last week everyone on Facebook and Twitter said Matt’s hanging out with a finalist from Dancing with the Stars.”

  “Exactly.” Bailey laughed. An icon like Matt Keagan? The line of girls would be longer than ten football fields. “I’m not interested.”

  The three of them fell quiet again, leaving just the boys’ conversation the rest of the way to the Baxter house. Bailey stared out the window. The countryside in Bloomington, Indiana, the rolling snow-covered hills, and the crisp, blue sky that spread out forever around them spoke peace to her soul. February brought a mix of weather, but always snow clung to the ground somewhere. This year more than most.

  Bailey thought about her life and the guys God had brought across her path. The last year was so crazy amazing she almost felt like the whole thing had happened to someone else. Brandon Paul — the nation’s most popular young actor — had singled her out to star in his blockbuster movie Unlocked. The film was set to release in April, but it was still being edited. Bailey had never worked harder, and in the end she was satisfied with her performance.

  But Bailey’s was nothing to Brandon’s. He played a teenager whose beautiful soul was locked in a prison of autism. She played his friend, the girl who believed she could draw him out and find a way for God to work a miracle in his life. She couldn’t wait to see what critics would say about the movie, about Brandon’s stunning portrayal of Holden Harris. The story was riveting—just like the bestselling novel by the same name.

  Brandon had done the story justice, for sure. But, along the way, God had given him more than a key performance for his resume. During the shoot Bailey had talked to Brandon about the Lord, and the Bible, and God’s plan for him. Last New Year’s Eve Brandon came to the Flanigan house and had prayed to ask Jesus into his heart. Later that night, Bailey’s dad even baptized Brandon in their Jacuzzi.

  Never mind that Brandon had a crush on Bailey. She didn’t see him that way — not with his past and the throngs of girls screaming his name. Brandon was a friend, nothing more. But in the wake of filming Unlocked, talk had immediately turned to the two of them starring in a love story.

  “The chemistry between you is too strong to stop with Unlocked,” t
he producer told them. He wanted to film this spring. But in late January the movie was shelved so Brandon could focus on a NASCAR story about a guy living fast and dangerously, a guy in conflict with his racecar driver father. The story was called Chasing Sunsets, and Brandon had already signed on to play the part.

  Bailey had been offered roles in other films, but nothing she would take. Agents and producers in Hollywood didn’t understand. She didn’t want to move to LA and spend her days auditioning. She was two years from finishing her theater degree at IU. After that, she still dreamed about performing on Broadway in New York City. But no matter where she did or didn’t act in the future her friendship with Brandon Paul would remain — she was sure of that.

  She blinked, and lifted her eyes to the sky over Bloomington. The boys were talking about basketball, how Justin would be the fastest guard in the league.

  “Cody Coleman was the fastest guy ever at Clear Creek High — football or hoops,” Ricky made the pronouncement proudly. “But Justin, you never know … maybe you’ll be faster.”

  Cody Coleman. The boys’ voices faded as Bailey pictured Cody and the way he’d looked the last time they saw each other. She had just wrapped up the shoot with Brandon, and Cody seemed distracted. Different. Maybe the movie had something to do with his distance. Or maybe he pulled away because of Bailey’s closeness with Brandon Paul. A quiet sigh slipped from her throat.

  Brandon could never be Cody Coleman.

  She heard the slightest buzzing sound from her purse and realized she still had her phone on mute from church. She dug around, but by the time she found it the call was gone. She pressed a button at the top of the phone and a number flashed across the screen — one she didn’t recognize. The area code was 212. New York City.

  Strange, she thought. Tim Reed was the only person she knew living in New York. But she had his number programmed into her contacts, so unless he used a different phone, the call couldn’t be from him. She was still staring at the number when her phone flashed that a voicemail had come in. At the same time, her dad pulled into the Baxters’ driveway. The place looked beautiful, surrounded by snow and barren trees. A thin ribbon of smoke came from the chimney, and already six cars packed the area adjacent to the garage.

  “I can smell the barbecue sauce from here.” Ricky took a long whiff as they stepped out of the SUV. “Best barbecue in Bloomington.” He grinned at the others, but then his expression changed sharply as he caught a teasing look from their mother. “Except for yours, of course. Second best. That’s what I meant to say.”

  The air was cold against Bailey’s cheeks as they walked across the cleared sidewalk and into the house. For the next two hours the warmth from the fire and the Baxters was enough to keep Bailey distracted. They heard about Ashley’s paintings being discovered by a new gallery in New York City—one much larger than any gallery that had ever carried her work—and about how well the Baxter grandkids were doing in school and sports.

  Bailey sat near her dad and keyed into a conversation between him and Ryan Taylor, the head football coach at Clear Creek High. Ryan was married to the oldest Baxter daughter, Kari. Until this school year, Cody had always been connected to Clear Creek High. Like Ricky said, he was the fastest football player there when he was a student and then, after returning from the war, he coached at Clear Creek.

  Her dad and Ryan talked about how off-season training was going, and then Ryan set down his fork. “You hear much from Cody Coleman?”

  A shadow fell over her father’s expression. “No.” He shook his head and wiped a napkin across his mouth. “Not for a couple months. I’m a little worried about him.”

  For a few seconds Ryan didn’t say anything. “Rumor has it he’s going for the assistant job at Lyle — that small Christian school outside Indianapolis.”

  Bailey felt her heart slide into a strange and unrecognizable rhythm. Cody was going for a job? Already? He still had another year of school left, two if he wanted a teaching credential. She looked at the food on her plate, but she wasn’t hungry.

  “Hmm. I didn’t know.” Her dad’s expression remained flat, his tone even. “Maybe that’s better for him.”

  “I’m not sure. Cody needs accountability.” Ryan squinted, his concern obvious. “Your family has always meant so much to that kid.” He hesitated. “I don’t like that he hasn’t called. We should pray … that he isn’t drinking again.”

  Bailey had to keep herself from blurting out that of course Cody wasn’t drinking. He wouldn’t go back to that, even if he never contacted them again. But she kept quiet.

  It wasn’t until later as they were headed home along the dark country roads, and the Suburban was quiet, that Bailey remembered her father’s expression when Ryan Taylor brought up Cody’s name. He almost looked angry, and suddenly in the silence of the ride she understood. Cody might be someone they all cared for, and he might have been a part of their family for many years. But now his silence hurt Bailey. It hurt all of them. And for that, her dad would only have so much patience.

  Which explained the way her father teased about Matt Keagan. He was ready for Bailey to let go of Cody and get on with life. With someone more like her — someone like Matt.

  Bailey stifled a quiet laugh. Matt Keagan. As if that were even a possibility …

  Not until they were home and she and her mom were in the kitchen making hot tea did Bailey remember the phone call from the 212 area code and the message she still hadn’t heard. “Hey …” She ran lightly to the other side of the kitchen bar where her purse hung on one of the stools. “I got a call from New York.”

  “New York?”

  “Yeah.” She dug around her purse again and after half a minute finally found her phone. “Listen.” She pushed a few buttons and put the phone on speaker so they could both hear.

  “Hello, this is Francesca Tilly, producer for the Broadway production of Hairspray. I was given your name by a friend of mine, a producer with the show Wicked.” The woman’s Italian accent was thick. She talked very fast and sounded quite serious. “We’ve lost members of our cast for various reasons, so we’ll host a limited audition in three weeks. We know about your role in the Brandon Paul film, and we’d like you to attend.” Another pause.

  What in the world Bailey locked eyes with her mom. She covered her mouth with her hand and kept listening.

  “I apologize for calling you on a Sunday, but our schedule is crazy tomorrow. If you’re interested, contact me at my office number. You’ll be given details then. Thank you for your time. I hope to hear from you.”

  The woman left her number twice, and the message came to an end. Bailey set her phone down and let out a brief scream. “Did you hear that?”

  Her mom grinned big. “I knew it …” She laughed out loud and reached for Bailey’s hands. “I knew someone would notice you after your last audition.”

  Bailey danced her way closer and took hold of her mom’s fingers. “Can you believe it? Hairspray?” She screamed again. “That’s my all-time favorite show! And they want me to audition!!”

  “What’s the commotion?” Her dad had been in the garage. He looked happy, but bewildered as he came closer. “Whatever it is, you’re sure smiling big.” He came to her and kissed the top of her head. “So I’m sure I’ll like it too.”

  “I’m going back to New York!” Bailey’s heart was still grasping the reality of the voicemail. “This producer wants me to audition for Hairspray! Isn’t that the craziest thing?”

  He smiled as he searched her eyes. “That surprises you?”

  “Yes!” She squealed, dancing in place. “Of course it surprises me. I can’t believe I’m still standing!”

  They laughed and for the next half hour they talked about the songs Bailey could sing for the audition, and how she was more prepared now, and the fact that her dance lessons would definitely pay off because she was a better dancer than before.

  Bailey thought about something Francesca Tilly had said on the message and
for a moment her happiness dropped off. “You don’t think they only want me because of my role in Unlocked, do you?”

  “Of course not.” Her mom’s answer was quick, her tone convincing. “You have to be more than well known to survive on Broadway.” She smiled. “They called you because of your skills, honey.”

  She nodded slowly. “I hope so.” The last thing she would want was a role handed to her because of her visibility. On Broadway a person needed to earn their place — it was that simple. They talked more about the logistics of what lay ahead, and what the producers would look for during the upcoming audition. Bailey was exhausted in every possible way by the time she went to bed, and even then she wasn’t sure she could ever find her way to sleep. She thought about Cody and how tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. Not only would she go another February fourteenth alone, but he wasn’t even part of her life to share in the excitement that had just happened. She rolled onto her side and stared at the moonlight splashed across the wall.

  She was going back to New York for another audition! She’d asked God for this every day since her last one, when the producers of Wicked had cut her and offered her former boyfriend Tim Reed a part in the show. Now … now it was finally her turn to show a different set of producers she had what it took to win a part.

  She breathed out. Calm down, Bailey … you need sleep. She smiled in the darkness but as she did, she remembered Pastor Mark’s message from earlier. Everyone says goodbye eventually … people come and go … nothing stays except for Jesus. And suddenly amidst her very great joy came a flash of sadness. Grief, almost. Because if God allowed this, she might actually win a part on Broadway. All of which would mean one very certain thing. Despite everything she loved about Bloomington and her family and her classes at IU, this wouldn’t be a time to think about Brandon Paul or to meet Matt Keagan or to wonder about Cody.

  It would be her time to leave.

  Two

  CODY STEPPED INSIDE HIS APARTMENT, FLIPPED ON A LIGHT, AND stomped the ice off his boots. His first real job interview was in two hours. He peeled off his jacket, dropped it over the back of the sofa, and headed to his room. His roommate wasn’t home, which was just as well. He had too much on his mind to talk about any of it. Life had become a snowy, busy blur of routine, and for the most part Cody was comfortable in it. Better not to think about the passing of time or how every day put another calendar square between him and Bailey Flanigan. He took a full load of classes and worked a few times each week on his forty-page senior project titled “The Effects of Motor Skill Improvement on a Student’s Ability to Learn.” Cody loved the research. So far the evidence was compelling — the more active a child, the better he or she performed on academic tests. Sort of obvious, really.