KAREN NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
KINGSBURY
Learning
BAILEY FLANIGAN
SERIES
BOOK TWO
DEDICATION
To Donald, my Prince Charming …
Can you believe that our Tyler has graduated from high school? How did the journey go so fast, the years fly so quickly that already we are here? I think about the day I found out I was having a boy — our first son. I remember you standing in the entryway of our little rental house, your eyes wide. “Well? What is it?” I’d gone to the doctor appointment by myself because you had school that morning, leading the kids in the classroom. I waited a minute, enjoying the suspense, and then I grinned at you. “We’re having a boy!” I remember that before you could think about the politically correct response, you pumped your fist and shouted, “Yes!” I love that you were so excited to have a son, and between us I’ve loved everything about raising that little boy. I remember him standing in your cowboy boots, his four-year-old chest puffed out as he stood next to you. A mirror image of his daddy. I know God has great plans ahead for Ty … and for all our kids. But it’s bittersweet beyond words that already he has graduated. Thank you, Donald, for being the sort of daddy our boys have always wanted to imitate. They see you, and they know for sure that’s who they want to be. You, the man of God, the one helping our family at every turn, praying for us. Stable, funny, loving, and always, always there for us. I pray that God will help us hold onto the lasts in the years to come as our other four boys hurry their way toward the front door. Along the way, I will cherish being at your side, watching you fill our home with laughter and love. God walked us through the baby stage and the walking stage, He walked us through the off-to-school stage and now, somehow, He’ll walk us through the years of letting go. Quiet days lie ahead, but for now, my love, hold my hand and let’s run the journey together. You and our boys, making memories. I look at you and still see the blond, blue-eyed guy who would ride his bike to my house and read the Bible with me before a movie date. You stuck with me back then and you stand by me now — when I need you more than ever. I love you, my husband, my best friend, my Prince Charming. Stay with me, by my side, and let’s watch our children take wing. Always and always … The ride is breathtakingly beautiful. I pray it lasts far into our twilight years. Until then, I’ll enjoy not always knowing where I end and you begin. I love you always and forever.
To Kelsey, my precious daughter …
Only one year left of college, and I am amazed at how far you’ve come, Kelsey … how much you’ve grown. Your time in California — though some of the most painful days in your life and mine, for reasons we both understand — was a time God used to raise you into the strikingly beautiful young woman you are today, inside and out. I have watched you learn to love serving and listening and helping others, more than you care for yourself. I remember one day not long ago when you were still in California — alone and heartbroken — and you called. “Listen to this,” you cried out, hope filling your voice. “These are some great Bible verses I found today. They’re perfect for where God has me.” You didn’t know this, but your dad and I were in our room, and you were on speakerphone. The two of us exchanged a look — the sort of look that could only be shared between two parents who have prayed a lifetime for a child only to see God’s answer in a single moment. I know you’ve had a hard year, sweetheart. But the truth is God cleared away the old and wrong to make way for the new and right. Wherever he is, honey, God is preparing him for that time when the two of you will meet and fall in love. Until then, you keep being the light of our family, the laughter of our hearts … and that one-in-a-million girl who inspired an entire series. My precious “Bailey Flanigan,” I pray that God will bless you mightily in the years to come, and that you will always know how He used this time in your life to draw you close to Him, and to prepare you for what’s ahead. In the meantime, you’ll be in my heart every moment. And wherever you sing and dance for Him, we’ll be in the front row! I love you, sweetheart.
To Tyler, my lasting song …
For eighteen years, I wasn’t sure I could survive the goodbye, Ty. But the ride was so wonderful, so enjoyable that I could do nothing but celebrate as you grew from a baby to a toddler … and from those toddler days to your preschool years when you first began singing. I could do nothing but smile as you started school and proposed to that darling girl in your kindergarten class. “I had a ring, Mommy … so I asked her to marry me.” Never mind that I was letting my baby go; I was helpless to do anything but rejoice as you began performing in earnest, gracing the stage of Christian Youth Theater and making your Papa happier than he’d ever been. One day I turned around and you were in high school … the homeschooling years behind us and taking on every challenge you could find at our wonderful Christian high school. National Honor Society, choir leader, your first hit single in stores everywhere, basketball and soccer and cross-country — you made your high school years one adventure after another for all of us, and I found myself pushing thoughts of tomorrow out of my mind. The moments were simply too bright, your love for Jesus, your life far too compelling to do anything but enjoy the ride. But deep inside I always knew it would lead to this: your high school graduation. This month as you walked the stage with your classmates, I could hardly see for my tears. Precious son, I know that God has amazing plans ahead for you. He is your reason, your passion, your commitment to succeed … through Him, for Him, and by Him. But still I can hardly believe you’re all grown up. Just know this, Ty. Wherever your journey of faith and music takes you, we’ll always be there — cheering you on. I sometimes think about your Papa, and how proud he would be to watch the young man you’ve become. I still see him there in his favorite chair, the one by the fireplace, closest to the piano. He couldn’t listen to you play and sing without getting tears in his eyes, and I can’t either. This is the time of your life you’ve been waiting for. Life is your stage, Ty! Go change the world for Jesus, and let your very bright light touch the lives of everyone who needs it. Thank you for the hours of joy you bring our family, and I promise to stop and listen a little longer when I hear you singing. Your dad and I are proud of you. We’re proud of your talent and your compassion for people and your place in our family. However your dreams unfold, we’ll be in the front row to watch them happen. Hold on to Jesus, son. I love you.
To Sean, my happy sunshine …
I’m so glad you’re on this side of your knee surgery. What a hard time for you, Sean … and what a time of growth in so many ways. Some years don’t turn out like we planned, and this year that was all too true for you, sweet Sean. A blown out knee the third game of the football season, which led to surgery and a time of healing and rehab. You never let me see you down, never complained. But my heart broke at the pain you went through … and how you had to miss out on basketball season because your injury was that bad. But here’s what God has taught me through this: Sometimes His greatest gift happens in the healing. When we are quiet enough to hear Him, quiet enough to listen to His leading. I have watched you spend hours shooting free throws, hours dribbling the basketball and playing the drums so that when the school gathered for worship every Monday of the past school year — you were there keeping the beat. Who would have thought so much good could’ve come from something so painful? But then … isn’t that the lesson of the cross? Jesus loves you, Sean. Even more than we do. He promises that with Him, all things work to the good. And somewhere down the road I believe you’ll look back at this time and see it as a turning point. A time when God was very close to you, indeed. You still need to remind yourself of the truth. You can do everything through Christ who gives you strength. And you can, Sean. You proved that this year by suffer
ing adversity, and in His strength, rising to the challenge. You remain a bright sunbeam, bringing warmth to everyone around you. And now you are an example of an all-star faith as well. I’m proud of you, Sean. I love you so much. I pray God will use your dependence on Him to always make a difference in the lives around you. You’re a precious gift, son. Keep smiling and keep seeking God’s best for your life.
To Josh, my tenderhearted perfectionist …
I’m so glad that this past winter you got back into premier soccer, and playing a game God has truly gifted you to play. Of course, you continue to amaze the opposition whatever sport, and for that I will always be proud of you, Josh. You train and play and lead with your whole heart. I don’t know which records will fall or how many people will one day know of your feats on the field, but I do know this: It’s so much more important that you have grown just as much in your faith. When God gives us talents, we must always remember where they come from. Who they come from. You have done this, dear son, and now you are ready to take on the world. Well, maybe not quite yet. But you’re ready to take on the off-season, and give God the glory along the way. I remember when we first got word that your birthmother in Haiti had survived the terrible earthquake, after all. You only smiled and nodded. “I know,” you said. “You do?” I was confused. None of us had known how she had fared for months after the quake. “I know she’s okay — either way. In heaven or here. Because I prayed for her.” Yes, Josh, you may laugh and tease a lot, but we know your heart. We have no doubt that someday we’ll see your name in headlines and that — if God allows it — you’ll play sports for a college team. You’re that good, and everyone around you says so. Now flashback to that single moment in a broken-down Haitian orphanage. There I was meeting Sean and EJ for the first time when you walked up. You reached up with your small fingers, brushed back my bangs, and said, “Hi, Mommy. I love you.” It might’ve taken six months of paperwork, but I knew as I heard those words that you belonged with us. The picture becomes clearer all the time. Keep being a leader on the field and off. One day people will say, “Hmmm. Karen Kingsbury? Isn’t she Josh’s mom?” I can’t wait. You have an unlimited future, son, and I’ll forever be cheering on the sidelines. Keep God first in your life. I love you always.
To EJ, my chosen one …
EJ, my jokester, you are finishing your first year in high school and what a year it has been! Varsity football … varsity basketball … and varsity soccer. And everywhere you go people say, “That EJ … God sure has gifted him with a ton of talent!” But the thing is, now that you’ve gotten through a year of high school I can say that maybe … finally … you’re starting to believe it too. God has brought you so far, EJ, and now you stand on the brink of becoming everything He has planned for you to become. At our Christian school you have found friends and a deeper faith and a fire for pursuing the talents God has given you. All the things we have prayed for you! As you start high school, you are one of our top students, and we couldn’t be happier for you. But even beyond your grades and your natural way of leading your peers in the right path, we are blessed to have you in our family for so many reasons. You are wonderful with our pets — always the first to feed them and pet them and look out for them — and you are a willing worker when it comes to chores. Besides all that, you make us laugh — oftentimes right out loud. I’ve always believed that getting through life’s little difficulties and challenges requires a lot of laughter — and I thank you for bringing that to our home. You’re a wonderful boy with such potential. I’m amazed because you’re so talented. I’m praying you’ll have a strong passion to use your gifts for God as you return to high school in the fall. Because, EJ, God has great plans for you, and we want to be the first to congratulate you as you work to discover those. Thanks for your giving heart, EJ. I love you so.
To Austin, my miracle boy …
I think we’ll look back on your seventh grade year as the time when you became obsessed with basketball. It was something you loved as a very little boy, back when people would ask you your name and you’d respond by saying, “Michael Jordan.” Yes, you’re finding out just how talented you are on a basketball court, and we can only dream about where God will take you. But even more than basketball, one highlight from your past school year will always stand out in my mind. The time when you found out there was an eighth grade boy who always sat alone at lunchtime. You made a determination to be that boy’s friend — but even then the first I knew about it was when your teacher told me, “That Austin is probably my favorite student in the whole school. I don’t think anyone has a kinder heart.” Then again after you tried out for the select basketball team in our area, and made the A team, your coach came up to me and said, “It took about a minute to know I wanted Austin on my team. He can play great … but it was his attitude, and the way he was with the other kids. Such a leader. I knew I had to have him.” Wow, buddy … do you know how proud of you I am? The fact that you’re almost as tall as your daddy now just reminds me that this wonderful amazing time together won’t last forever. Austin, I look at you and I see a young man with an ocean of determination and leadership ability, a young man who is first to thank his coach, first to shake the hand of the ref, and last to leave the classroom because you’re so busy cleaning up and expressing your gratitude to your teacher. Sure you still struggle in a few areas, and sometimes your competitive drive can get you in trouble with your brothers. But truly, Austin, you can do anything as long as you keep God first. I believe you have the chance to go all the way with your dreams of playing sports, and I’m grateful to have a front-row seat. Play hard and don’t ever give up, and always remember to be grateful and humble — two traits that will take you further than speed and strength any day. Not every infant who goes in for emergency heart surgery comes back out again. But even then, through our tears, we were certain we’d see you somewhere — here or there. The fact that God has blessed you with the here and now is proof that He has amazing plans for you. How great that you are seizing them with everything inside you, with every breath. Keep on, precious son. We are here for you, praying for you, cheering for you. No one believes more than we do. I’ve said it before, and it’s true. Heaven has windows, and I’m convinced Papa’s still cheering for you, son. Especially this year. Please don’t forget that or him. You’re my youngest, my last, Austin. I’m holding on to every moment, for sure. Thanks for giving me so many wonderful reasons to treasure today. I thank God for you, for the miracle of your life. I love you, Austin.
And to God Almighty, the Author of Life, who has — for now — blessed me with these.
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
READER LETTER
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
Acknowledgments
About the Author
WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT KAREN KINGSBURY’S BOOKS
Other Life-Changing Fiction™ by Karen Kingsbury
FOREVER IN FICTION®
Preview
Copyright
About the Publisher
Share Your Throughts
One
CODY COLEMAN ANCHORED HIMSELF NEAR THE HOSPITAL ROOM window and wondered for the hundredth time what he was doing here. Why he was holding vigil for a young woman in a coma while Bailey Flanigan was leaving Indiana
— maybe for good? He stared at the rainy parking lot twelve stories down and a realization hit him. It had been just twenty-four hours since Bailey stopped by the hospital to tell him goodbye. A full day of wondering and remembering and missing Bailey more than he could put into words. But none of that changed the reality of his situation: He was sitting bedside with Cheyenne Williams, pleading with God to save her life.
The machines around her whirred and beeped and reminded him that Cheyenne was alive. But everything else was tenuous … her condition, her prognosis. Her future.
Cody moved to the chair beside her bed and looked around the room. A sofa sleeper clung to one wall, the place where Cody had stayed most nights since the accident. Someone had to be here if Cheyenne woke up. When she woke up.
Cody’s eyes fell on his guitar. He brought it hoping music might help bring Cheyenne around. He wasn’t very good at it, and he could play only a couple songs. But they were songs that spoke of God’s faithfulness, His mercy, and grace. If Cheyenne could hear … if any part of her was still connected to the world around them, then these songs would help. Cody believed that. Besides, he had told her that he was playing the guitar a little. They’d texted about it the day before her accident. Cody still had the conversation on his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and thumbed through his text messages until he found the conversation with her.
So you’ll play for me … one of these days?
At the time, he laughed at the text, and his response hadn’t promised anything: I better practice first.
Don’t practice … just play … all music is beautiful, Cody.
It was Cheyenne’s last line … all music is beautiful … that convinced him to bring his guitar to the hospital. Other than a few times when he’d gone home to change clothes and shower, or when he was teaching or coaching, he was here. Last night — after Bailey’s goodbye — he’d even slept here.