Loving

  Again he resisted the urge to remind her that she was rushing things now. He pulled up in front of the United Airlines drop off area, killed the engine, and turned to her. “Bailey.” He touched her cheek, his fingers light across her velvety skin. How could they be doing this? Walking away from all they shared? He squinted against the glare of his breaking heart. “I haven’t known God as long as you. But why in the world would He call you away from me?”

  She leaned in close to him and let her forehead rest against his. “I don’t know.” Her tone told him she was telling the truth. She didn’t know why she needed to take the CKT position or why she was leaving now or how any of it made sense. But still she was going. “I’m sorry.”

  It was too late for many words. He took her face gently in his hands and kissed her. But the whole time his mind screamed the possibility: What if this was it? What if they never shared a moment like this again? “Don’t leave.” He breathed the words against her face, her hair. “Please, Bailey. Don’t leave.”

  “Brandon.” She kissed him again, and this time he could see that she was crying. Her body shook from the intensity of her sorrow. “I’m sorry.”

  “Baby, please …” He earned more money than he could spend in a lifetime and had the sort of life where if he wanted something he could have it. All except Bailey. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his head rest against hers again. Sure, he could fly out to see her, and maybe she could grab a few days to see him in Montana. But that wouldn’t give them a long-term answer. With everything inside him he felt the overwhelming reality that no matter what she told him, this was it. The breakup would only be a formality after this.

  The goodbye he couldn’t imagine saying.

  She kissed him one more time and then, as if it took every bit of her strength, she pulled away and opened the car door. Even now darkness provided cover, and sunrise lay an hour or so ahead. Brandon was grateful, because for once they were alone. Their privacy was like a gift from God, because paparazzi always hung out at LAX. But in this moment they were truly alone in the crowd of people coming and going from the airport. Him and Bailey, like any other couple.

  Brandon stepped out of the car, pulled her bag from the trunk, and met her on the curb. His eyes were blurry with tears, but he found a smile for her. “See? No paparazzi.”

  “God is good.” She smiled too, but it didn’t last long. Her expression fell, and again her pain shone through her sad eyes. “I have to go.”

  He nodded, and wiped at a few tears as they slid down his cheeks. “Did I ever tell you about the timing? How God brought you into my life at the right time?”

  She tilted her head, and her look told him not to do this, not to make their goodbye harder than it already was.

  “It won’t take long.” He moved in close to her, so their faces were only inches apart. All the world around them faded away as he spoke. “Four years ago I was in a dark place. Like, I shouldn’t be here. That dark.” He brushed a strand of her hair from her face and focused intently on her eyes. “I’ve never told anyone this. But when you came into my life I knew.”

  “Knew what?” Bailey was lost in his eyes, same as he was lost in hers. As if her flight were all but forgotten.

  “I knew I’d made the right decision that dark day.” He hesitated, careful not to say too much. This wasn’t the time for details. “Because you taught me about Jesus … and you showed me what love looks like.” He smiled despite the tears still filling his eyes. “Thanks for that, Bailey.”

  “You sound so final.” She looked desperate. “I’m not breaking up with you.” She searched his face, his soul. “We just need time.”

  “What if I move an hour out of Los Angeles? Two hours? I could commute, and we could find places in Camarillo or San Luis Obispo.” The thought came to him in a rush. “What about that?”

  “Brandon.” She searched his face. “What would I do in Camarillo?”

  He nodded, resigned. There would be no curbside debate here at LAX. She was leaving, nothing more needed to be said. “I love you.”

  Fresh tears flooded her eyes and ran down her face. “I love you too.”

  He couldn’t imagine a greater pain if someone walked by and ripped his arm off. But he had to face it, so he stepped back and with a soundless whisper he said the only thing left to say. “Goodbye.”

  Her face twisted beneath her grief, and she waited until she could whisper the words too. “I’ll call you.”

  For a split second he wanted to tell her not to make promises, not when she was leaving with no realistic hope of coming back. But he wanted to believe the possibilities, however slim, so he only waved, jogged around his car, and slid in behind the wheel once more. Their eyes held another long moment, and then she ran her fingertips beneath her eyes, took hold of her suitcase, and turned toward the airport. Brandon watched her go, but all he could think was how crazy this felt, how wrong it was.

  Bailey shouldn’t be leaving. He loved her, and she loved him. They belonged together. He would prove that to her, prove that what they shared wasn’t too perfect or too fast or too crazy. If Los Angeles was the problem, then he’d figure out a way around it. Hire more security or find a home further away, far from prying eyes and paparazzi. They couldn’t walk away from what they shared, because God alone had brought them together. Whatever it took he would prove it to her.

  If it took the rest of his life and every beat of his heart to do it.

  BAILEY COULDN’T SEE FOR HER TEARS, and she had no idea how she checked in and got through security. Not until she was on the plane did it hit her exactly what she was doing: She was walking away from Brandon Paul, the one guy in her life who had fought for her and pursued her and gone to unthinkable lengths to show her how much he loved her.

  The thought caused a rush of panic, and without thinking Bailey unbuckled her seat belt. She could still get off the plane, right? Still run back down the aisle and up the jetway and out into the concourse. She could call Brandon, and he’d be there to pick her up before she could reach curbside.

  But even as she felt her legs tense up, felt herself move to stand and crawl over the two strangers in her row, her eyes fell on a magazine across the aisle. A teenage girl was reading a gossip rag and there … there on the front page was a picture of the two of them. Brandon and her. They were on the beach and Bailey had her face sheltered as much as possible. The headline screamed at her from across the aisle. “Rough Waters for B&B.”

  Bailey eased back and buckled her seat belt. Every day back in Bloomington was another day free from the paparazzi. Every week was one more where the tabloids would be forced to find other fodder. She turned toward the window and stared at the baggage guys. It looked difficult, tossing one suitcase after another onto a luggage cart or into the belly of a plane. But the guys laughed and joked with each other as they worked.

  At least they get a normal life, she thought. They might not have a lot of money and maybe their circle of influence wasn’t worldwide like it was for Brandon Paul. But they could work and live and date and marry without the world searching for trouble. They could have a life, even here in Los Angeles.

  She closed her eyes and pictured Brandon, how she’d felt earlier in his arms, the way his cologne still lingered on her sweater.

  Dear Lord, how can I leave him? Help me figure things out in Bloomington, please, Father. I can’t live with him, but I can’t live without him either. Being away from him, telling him goodbye … I’m not even sure I can breathe with him so far away.

  Daughter, come to Me and I will give you rest … Do not worry about tomorrow.

  Peace released a warmth through her body and Bailey felt herself relax. But even then fresh tears stung at her eyes. I miss him already, God.

  There was no answer this time, and as Bailey gave herself over to sleep she remembered something Brandon said at their curbside goodbye. That she had confirmed to him how much God loved him. But he had helped her too. Because love never looked as bea
utiful as it had over the last year.

  The year she’d spent with Brandon Paul.

  Eight

  JENNY WAS BEGINNING TO DOUBT EVERYTHING SHE’D ALWAYS believed about her daughter and the future God had for her. Some time ago she’d prayed about the certainty in her heart. The certainty that Bailey was and always would be with Cody Coleman. Back then she promised the Lord that this was not a story she would try to write. Rather, she would give God the pen and watch what He might do. After that, God seemed to show her that maybe Brandon was the one they’d been praying for, the right guy for Bailey.

  Now Jenny wasn’t sure about anything.

  Bailey had been home from California for two weeks and not once had she seemed like herself. Sure, she was helpful and friendly, and she and Connor had found again the friendship that once mattered so much to both of them. But her heart remained broken. More wounded than Jenny had ever seen in her daughter. Even after Cody walked away from her the last time.

  Jenny had been on deadline for a magazine article she’d written for Reader’s Digest, and she was behind on the family’s email. Now, on the first Friday afternoon in April, an hour before the boys would be home from school, Jenny headed for the computer. But even as she did, she pictured Bailey that morning. Her eyes were different, like they belonged to a person who couldn’t find her way home. Even as she recounted the CKT auditions a couple weeks ago, she hadn’t seemed like herself.

  Like a part of her was absent or dead.

  Clearly the impact missing Brandon Paul had made on her daughter’s heart.

  Jenny sat down at her desk, called up her Google account, and began looking at unopened emails. She was near the top of the list when a letter screamed for her attention. “Concerned about Bailey” the subject line read. Jenny opened it, confused. Who would’ve known something was wrong with Bailey? She was two lines into the letter when she realized who had written it. The area coordinator of CKT.

  Dear Jenny, Just a quick note to let you know that several of us are worried about Bailey. She’s doing her job — doing it brilliantly. But she’s not the same girl. She isn’t as open with the kids, and the light in her eyes isn’t there.

  The letter went on to ask if Bailey had been sick, or if maybe she was more upset about losing her role on Broadway than she’d let on at first. Jenny closed the email, sat back in her chair, and closed her eyes. Bailey didn’t miss Broadway. She missed Brandon.

  What can I do now, God? How can I help my daughter get past this heartache and loneliness?

  The message came to her in a hurry, straight out of her Bible reading from earlier that day.

  Trust me in all your ways … lean not on your own understanding.

  Jenny let her hands fall to her lap. The words were exactly what she needed. She’d leaned on her own understanding long enough. She pictured Brandon, the way he hung on Bailey’s laughter and conversation, the times she’d caught him gazing at Bailey when he didn’t think anyone was watching. Brandon adored Bailey, no doubt. But the problem the two of them faced now was too great to fix. Jenny remembered a conversation she’d had with Bailey last night.

  “I miss him more every day.” She was loading the dishwasher while Jenny rinsed the plates. “But I feel sane again. I couldn’t take it, Mom … the frenzy and running and paparazzi everywhere we went.”

  “How does Katy handle it?”

  “It’s different now.” Bailey leaned against the counter and tilted her head, thoughtful. “They’re out of the limelight so the tabloids leave them alone. Most of the time, anyway.”

  Jenny had let that thought settle for a minute before she pointed out the obvious. “So that means at some point they won’t be after you and Brandon either.”

  “But at what point?” The fear in Bailey’s eyes was all-consuming. “After they run us off the road? Or when they turn the whole country against me for something I might say or do, for some dress I wear wrong or for taking a picture and looking heavier than I did a week ago?” She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to live like that.”

  Jenny stood up from her computer, the conversation still playing in her mind. She didn’t blame her daughter. But as real as the problem of living in Los Angeles was, it didn’t erase the other problem. The bigger problem. The desperate way Bailey longed for Brandon Paul.

  She wandered into the hallway and up the stairs to Bailey’s room. There on her dresser was a photo of her and Brandon on the rooftop of the Keller’s apartment — the place where Brandon had created a magical prom night for Bailey. The love and light in their eyes was enough to make anyone linger on the photograph, wishing and wanting for that kind of love.

  Jenny understood. That was still the sort of love she and Jim shared — the kind that comes along once in a lifetime and makes everything and everyone else step aside for it. A love Cody Coleman never showed Bailey.

  Jenny ran her finger over the top of the photo frame and sat down on the edge of Bailey’s bed. Then she did the only thing she could do, the thing she’d done every day since Bailey returned home. She prayed for her daughter, and for the young man God had set apart for her to marry one day. That the Lord would protect him and guide him and direct his steps on a path that would in time come face-to-face with Bailey’s. And as she prayed for her precious daughter, Jenny’s mind filled with the face of a handsome actor, a young man who loved Bailey like no one else had ever loved her.

  The face of Brandon Paul.

  FIFTEEN DAYS HAD PASSED SINCE BAILEY pulled herself away from Brandon and somehow climbed aboard a jet plane bound for Indiana. Bailey knew because she was counting. She and Brandon had talked a few times and texted every day. But each time he asked her to Skype, she found a reason to say no. What was the point? She was completely involved with the CKT show Peter Pan, and already the area coordinator had talked to Katy about Bailey running a summer camp in Bloomington.

  If it weren’t for Brandon she could see spending her life here.

  She could get through the days, keep herself busy, and find meaning and purpose working with the kids. Rehearsals reminded her of when she was an actor in the theater group herself. Back when she and Connor were kids. Some of the families who had been involved back then were still active in CKT now, and that, too, gave Bailey a sense of being home. Where she needed to be.

  If only she could convince her heart.

  Bailey pulled her family’s car into the driveway and parked in the third bay. She was driving a used Acura, something her parents had bought for the kids to drive. Eventually, though, Bailey would have to get her own car. It only made sense. She stepped out, grabbed her things, and stretched. Rehearsal had gone later than usual, and as Bailey walked through the door and into the family room she felt beyond drained.

  The house was dark, so her parents must’ve gone to bed. Her brothers too, except Connor. She could hear him softly playing the piano in the living room. She set her things down and allowed herself to be pulled toward the music. Their eyes met as she stepped into the room and took the chair next to the piano. Connor smiled with his eyes and kept playing, kept singing. He was working on a Michael Bublé piece for Clear Creek’s talent show in a few weeks. A song called “Haven’t Met You Yet,” and Connor sang it beautifully.

  When he finished, he relaxed his posture and turned toward her. “Rough night?”

  “Yeah.” She leaned on the piano. “Actually, no. The kids are great. We’re already looking good for the opening number.”

  Connor smiled. “I remember Peter Pan. It was one of my favorite shows.”

  “You were the best Captain Hook ever.” She grinned at her brother. “Everyone else can only try to come close.”

  “Aww, thanks.” He chuckled. “I think my voice might’ve cracked a few times, but it was fun.”

  She let the silence settle between them for a few beats. Without warning she felt her eyes well up. “Nothing feels right.”

  “Finish the show and go back to LA.” Connor understood her bett
er than almost anyone except her mom. “You miss him bad, Bailey. It’s all over your face. Every night … every day.”

  “I do miss him.” Her whole body hurt from missing him. “When I lived in New York I let myself believe that someway … somehow it could work for us. But these past few months … I couldn’t breathe, Connor. I mean, I thought taking the part in the NTM film would help, but really, I hated it. The whole celebrity thing, the paparazzi — then the way the studio changed the script on me. The whole thing … it’s not me. It never will be.”

  “I guess you have just one question to answer then.” Connor reached out and covered her hand with his. “What price will you pay for love?”

  Bailey fell silent. It was the same question Katy had asked her. But why couldn’t Brandon tell the studio he needed to live here? Where they could have a more sane life, and she could write her book or find a future with CKT? Were the meetings really that important? Couldn’t he find a way to make it work if he loved her that much? She felt terrible thinking that way, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Whether you liked LA or not, you left a piece of yourself back in Southern California.”

  She nodded, trying to imagine ever going back. Her heart skittered around, slipping for a few seconds into an irregular rhythm at the thought. “I started doubting whether it was even real. But I can’t do that. I love him too much.”

  Connor watched her, his face filled with empathy. “I’m sorry … I know it’s not easy.”

  Two tears dropped onto the knees of her jeans. “No.” Her phone buzzed in her back pocket and she pulled it out. The text message was from Brandon. Baby, I can’t stop thinking about you. Please … get on Skype with me. I need to see you.