Loving

  The helicopter reached the yacht, and through the sound of the wind and waves, Bailey heard them. Loud familiar shouts and grunts, intended to get their attention. The staccato sound of the blades grew deafening, so close Bailey felt the wind from the propellers, the helicopter hovering what felt like inches above them.

  Brandon stood again and cupped his hands around his mouth. “We’re calling the police,” he shouted. But even Bailey could barely make out his voice against the deafening noise.

  Bailey looked over her shoulder again, and as she did she nearly fell to the deck. The chopper was much too close, dangerously close. The helicopter door was wide open and two photographers hung half out, their cameras aimed at them. Between shots they called out, as if Brandon and Bailey might pose or wave.

  “Brandon!” Bailey’s hair whipped at her face, making her dizzy. She yelled as loud as she could to be heard. “I can’t do this! Let’s get out of here.”

  He shot a final glare at the helicopter and then took her hand and hurried her back down the stairs to the main deck, safe behind the tinted windows. Even then the helicopter stayed, buzzing as close to the yacht as possible. So close that Bailey screamed over the roaring sound of the chopper, certain the chopper would clip its propellers and they’d all wind up sinking in the ocean.

  Immediately Brandon wrapped her in his arms. He picked up the intercom from the captain’s deck and called Alex, who was at the wheel downstairs. “Get us back. This isn’t working.” There was a pause. “Yeah, of course try to lose them and definitely call 9-1-1, but we’re on our own for now. We need to get back. They’ve got the advantage.”

  Bailey felt safe with his arms around her, but her heart sank. Nothing about the day was how either of them pictured it. A quiet talk on the beach, the chance to sit side by side on the lifeguard tower savoring the ocean view and the warm salty air. That’s what she’d wanted. Even if the conversation she needed to have was a tough one. Instead it felt like they’d slipped into an action movie where the director didn’t know when to cut the scene.

  Brandon slumped onto the sofa opposite her. “They’ll find a way to get a picture. Even if it kills them.”

  For a long time they were quiet, allowing only the intense sound of the speeding engine as their background. Ten minutes passed while the helicopter stayed close, buzzing at the yacht again and again. Finally, when a coast guard boat with blaring sirens headed their direction, the chopper gave up and turned toward Malibu. By then Bailey was exhausted, drained physically and emotionally. Brandon looked like he felt the same way.

  “I’m sorry.” He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t blame you for hating this.”

  Bailey didn’t need to say anything. The paparazzi, the chase down Pacific Coast Highway, and the harassment by the helicopter had said it for her. They were approaching the marina again and after a long while she stood and moved across the cabin to the spot next to Brandon. She took his hand and angled herself so she could see his eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

  “But you hate it.” His tone was gentle, wrapped in a sort of pain she hadn’t seen in him before. “Right?”

  She nodded. “I do.” Her eyes met his and held. With everything in her she hoped he could see inside her heart. “I love you, Brandon. This isn’t about us … really.”

  He breathed in sharp through his nose and sat straighter. “But I live here. And you hate it here. That’s what this is about.” It wasn’t a question. He could read her eyes as easily as she could read his.

  Bailey wasn’t ready to book a flight home, but she was close. She couldn’t think about the idea now, so she put her hand alongside his face. “What’s happening with your contract? Did they give you more control?”

  “Not yet.” He caught her hand in his and ran his thumb along her fingers. “They know I’m serious. They’re postponing the announcement.”

  “Hmmm.” Bailey wasn’t sure why she asked. As if the contract could make a difference at this point. Whether Brandon had control or not, the deal would require Brandon to stay here for the next five years, maybe longer. She held her breath. God, help me say the right thing … please. “Brandon … I need to tell you something.”

  “This is it, then … the thing you wanted to tell me?” The anger from earlier was gone entirely. Instead Brandon looked sad.

  So sad Bailey wanted to cry.

  She swallowed her fear and hurt and doubt and tried to explain herself. “The Christian Kids Theater back home needs a director for the spring show.” She paused, but not for long. If she didn’t say everything now, she might never say it. “I can’t be here, Brandon.” She took both his hands in hers and leaned close to him, desperate for his understanding. “I’m not doing the movie — you know that much. And there’s nothing else on my schedule. Besides, you’re leaving in a few weeks for Montana, right?” It was something she hadn’t considered before now. The fact that maybe this would be a great time to spend a few months in Bloomington since he’d be gone, anyway.

  “I am.” Brandon looked paler than before. “So you’re saying … you want to go back to Bloomington?”

  “Maybe.” Her answer was a painfully quiet whisper. “If I’m going to do this, I should leave Monday. Auditions for CKT are Tuesday.”

  Brandon pulled his hands free and stood, staring at her. He hadn’t expected this, his shock proved that. “You would really do that? Leave on Monday?”

  “Maybe. For now. Just while you’re gone and until the play wraps up in a few months.” She stood. “It’s something I can do, directing CKT.” She tried to take hold of his arm, but he avoided her. “Brandon … please. Try to understand.” She waved her hand toward the ocean. “Running every day from the paparazzi and not having a life of my own. I can’t live like this.”

  “You have a life here if you want one.” He exhaled and his shoulders dropped a notch. He crossed his arms, still not willing to be close to her. “It’s up to you. If you want to teach, you can teach here. If you’re looking for a better movie, you can find it here.” His tone filled with passion again. “Have you thought of that?”

  He had a point. “You’re right. If I want a life here, I can find it.” She tried once more to put her hand on his shoulder, and this time he let her. “But I need to think about it, and I’ll do that better back there. I don’t want this craziness. Seeing my face in the tabloids every time I buy milk, running from paparazzi. It’s not me.” She couldn’t stop now, not when the truth was knocking at the backside of her teeth trying to get out. “Honestly, Brandon …” her voice fell. “It might never be me.”

  Another level of understanding seemed to dawn on him. “Baby, we can figure it out. Don’t decide everything right now.” Tears filled his eyes, but he didn’t blink, didn’t look away. “I can’t stand the thought of being away from you.”

  “Brandon …” This was killing her. She hated seeing him so upset.

  He linked his hands at the back of his neck and looked down. When he lifted his face, a few tears slipped onto his cheeks. “We can’t be long distance indefinitely. You move away and then what?” He lifted his eyes to hers, and the hurt there was more than she could take. “What happens to us if our homes are thousands of miles apart?”

  Bailey hadn’t thought about it that way. But if she was going home with no intention of coming back, he was right. Where did that leave them? She couldn’t finish the thought. She only wanted to take him in her arms and reassure him. She felt breathless. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “Maybe not.” He came to her and pulled her into his arms. “If you’re in Bloomington and I’m here … that could never work forever.” His voice dropped to a whisper and he used his shoulder to catch another tear. “I have to be here. You know that.”

  “Maybe I’d only stay in Bloomington for a few months.” She felt like she might be sick. They walked together back to the sofa, sat down, and faced each other, their hands joined once more. As Alex maneuvered th
e boat back into the harbor, the ride grew smooth again. Up ahead in the dock parking lot Bailey could already see two black cars waiting near the marina entrance.

  Paparazzi.

  “I don’t know how to do this.” Now the tears were hers, and she blinked twice so she could see him clearly. “I want to be with you.” She studied him, holding on to him with her eyes. “I love you.”

  “Then stay.” He swallowed hard, clearly trying to gain control of his emotions. “Stay, Bailey.”

  “I’m not sure I can.” An avalanche of sorrow crashed in around her. She nodded to the waiting photographers. “Look at them.”

  There was nothing else to say. Brandon searched her eyes for a long time and kissed her, a kiss that hinted at defeat and goodbye. For now anyway. Their tears ran together, and Brandon put his arms around her, holding her close until they felt the boat come to a stop in the slip. Brandon paid the captain and they gathered their things. Brandon seemed determined not to let the paparazzi see them struggling. He forced a smile as they stepped out of the yacht, and he put his arm around her as they walked back to his car.

  “Smile. Please, Bailey.”

  “I am.”

  The photographers stayed in their cars this time — their view of Bailey and Brandon exiting off the yacht unhindered. Bailey could feel the cameras trained on them, hear their shouts. The pressure to look happy made her feel like she was playing a role, and along with that came worse doubts. Crazy, irrational thoughts like maybe her whole relationship with Brandon had been nothing more than her own happy movie, and now … well, now the movie was over. Fade to black and roll credits.

  The paparazzi didn’t follow them to the private parking garage, apparently content to chase them wherever they were headed next. When they climbed into the car and the doors were shut, Brandon turned to her. “Can I ask one thing?”

  “Of course.” The sadness between them was almost more than she could take.

  “If you leave Monday, can I drive you to the airport?”

  “Yes.” She leaned closer and hugged him for several seconds. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see this coming, Brandon. Really. But if it’s just for a few months maybe it makes the most sense.”

  He hesitated, but his eyes told her there were no guarantees. “I get it.”

  They were alone in the dark of the parking garage, the paparazzi waiting for them out on the street. So here, at least, this was real. For a couple minutes no one was taking pictures or tracking their every move. “I’m not breaking up with you.”

  He started the car and backed out of the space. A quick glance in her direction told her that she didn’t need to verbally break up with him. Her actions would do that all on their own. The minute they were out in the open, the photographers were at it again — three cameras aimed out the windows of the car shooting in their direction.

  Brandon acted like he didn’t see them. He kept his expression the same, distant and desperate, as he drove by. Immediately the paparazzi flipped a U-turn and began following them. But Brandon didn’t go faster. He only kept an even pace. “They can crash into us if they want to.”

  Bailey flipped down the mirror in her visor and studied them. “They’re too close.”

  “We’re fine. They won’t really hit us.”

  But Brandon’s refusal to react to the photographers didn’t ease Bailey’s fears. The paparazzi were willing to drive crazy, pulling into the wrong lane and cutting off other cars to stay immediately behind Brandon and Bailey. At any moment their actions could cause an accident. Finally Bailey closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seat. Father, help me ignore them, please. This fear … it isn’t from You.

  I am with you, daughter … lean on Me.

  The voice eased her fears and helped her breathe. She exhaled, feeling the peace that only God could bring. When she opened her eyes, she closed the mirror and kept her focus straight ahead, where the paparazzi couldn’t be seen. But even as she did there was no denying the one very clear fact: as much as she loved Brandon, and as badly as she wanted to make things work, in this instant she could find peace just one way.

  Picturing herself home in Bloomington, Indiana.

  Seven

  BRANDON BROUGHT BAILEY TO HIS HOUSE FOR MOST OF THE weekend, taking her home after dark so that whatever pictures the paparazzi might take at least they wouldn’t be clear. They talked and read the Bible together, and a few times they fought. Because Brandon couldn’t believe this was really happening — that Bailey was leaving. And because of something else — if Bailey was committed to the CKT production, she wouldn’t be able to visit him in Montana like they’d planned.

  By Saturday she’d made up her mind. She could make no promises and there were no guarantees. By then they both knew that. This move back to Indiana felt different than anything they’d faced. If she wasn’t willing to live in LA, then maybe they had nothing. At least as long as he was under contract with West Mark. The studio executives had made it clear that though some actors could take occasional movie deals and live outside California, this deal was different. West Mark executives wanted his movies to release several times a year and they planned on him attending weekly meetings.

  Commuting from Indiana would never work.

  THE SUN HADN’T SHOWN ITSELF and wouldn’t for an hour at least. At four in the morning — too late to photograph the bar crowd and too early for breakfast meetings — there was no traffic, no paparazzi following Brandon. Only a make-believe serenity that could never really exist in this city.

  He pulled into the driveway at Dayne and Katy’s house and Bailey stepped out from the shadows. Her flight out of LAX was at six. They’d get there ninety minutes early. Plenty of time for the goodbye Brandon couldn’t imagine. The one he never saw coming.

  He stepped out of the car and met her halfway. “Hi.” He allowed himself to be instantly lost in her eyes. If this was their last time together for a while, he wanted to remember it.

  “Hi.” She let go of the handle of her bag and slipped her arms around his neck. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  Brandon breathed in the smell of her, the hint of shampoo and the mint on her breath. He held on, not wanting to take a single step from here and from her in his arms. “Mmmm, baby. Why don’t I go with you?” He pressed his face against hers and ran his hand over her hair. “We can fly off to some exotic island and never come back.”

  “Sounds amazing.”

  Brandon willed the moment to freeze, but someone laid on their horn as they passed by on the highway. He stepped back and smiled at her so he wouldn’t break down and cry. There would be no exotic island, no freezing time. No way around the reality of the situation.

  Bailey was leaving.

  Brandon took hold of her suitcase and they walked slowly toward his car. As they did he couldn’t help but steal glances at her — her long hair dancing in the breeze, her dancer legs, her beautiful profile. The way her eyes still took his breath when she caught him watching her.

  They reached the car and he lifted her bag into the trunk. When they were in the car and headed for LAX, he took hold of her hand and kept his eyes on the road. If he looked at her now, as she left town, he wasn’t sure he could hold it together.

  “We can still Skype.” Bailey squeezed his hand softly. “Okay? That’ll help.”

  Brandon felt the sting of tears in his eyes. “Sure.” He smiled at her. It was too late for anger or frustration or anything but love. “Maybe the right movie will come along and you’ll come back in a couple months.”

  “Exactly.” She looked at him, and her eyes couldn’t hide her doubts.

  Brandon sucked in a deep breath and tried to focus on the 405 Freeway. Bailey had never wanted to be in movies in the first place. Sure, she auditioned for Unlocked. But only because she hadn’t found anything on Broadway. Even now she would pick New York over Los Angeles. At least in New York people left them alone.

  He glanced at her again and his heart felt heavy. Hurt a
nd sadness welled up within him. He felt like he was in a box with no windows and doors, no light, no way out. Nothing to give him hope that he might figure a way around what was ahead.

  “Bailey?” He turned to her briefly and then looked at the road again. “Didn’t you feel safe with me?”

  She met his eyes and then looked down at her lap for several seconds. When she glanced up he saw that whatever pain he was feeling, she felt it too. “It wasn’t about feeling safe. I don’t like being chased.” Her voice cracked and she put her hand to her throat, struggling for composure. “I don’t like people running after us and taking our picture a hundred times a minute and never … never having privacy.”

  They’d been over this. Brandon nodded and gave her a quick, defeated smile. “I know. I understand.” He held her gaze for a brief moment before looking ahead again. “Did I love you enough? I mean … did I show you how much I love you?” He wasn’t ready for her answer. “Because you said a few times that in your darkest doubts you wondered if maybe it didn’t all seem too perfect, too fast. Like what we had wasn’t real somehow, right?”

  “Sometimes.” A long sigh came from her. “Brandon, don’t do this.” She placed her thumb and forefinger at her temples, covering her eyes. “You did everything right. Every time we were together. We aren’t breaking up.” She lowered her hand and touched his knee. “You love me. I know that.” She paused. “But you have to admit everything happened fast. And it felt a little unreal. Like our own movie.”

  He wanted to remind her that her return to Bloomington had happened very quickly too. But he didn’t want to fight. “We had fun together … and because of that it was unreal? Because we were happy?” For the first time that morning he felt angry. “What’s wrong with being happy? Is it a problem, Bailey? Being too much in love? Are you really going to hold that against me?”

  She withdrew her hand and crossed her arms. For a long time she said nothing, but as Brandon took the exit for LAX, she uttered another sigh, this time shakier than before. Goodbye was coming … they couldn’t stop it. “What we have … it’s real. Those were just crazy thoughts.” She looked at him. “You and I aren’t the problem.” Her voice was as calm as it was heavy. “I need to be home, that’s all. So I can think about what I’m doing … where God’s calling me. Moving here, I didn’t do that. I rushed things.”