Learning

  Bailey flashed a nervous grin at her mother. The same could be said for her, she was sure. She might have to spend a little time with Bob … learn a little about cooking. Now, before she was really on her own. The meal ended, and Betty and Bob encouraged them to have a look at the city, take a walk to the park. Like old friends, Betty and Bob seemed to understand how important the time between Bailey and her mother was. Bailey appreciated their consideration, and she told her mom so when they were back outside on the street. “I’m going to like Bob and Betty.” She walked with a spring in her step. The sun warmed her shoulders and the air was a perfect temperature. “They already seem like family.”

  “Exactly.” She looked at Bailey, her expression curious. “Didn’t you think Betty was a little like — “ “Elizabeth Baxter?” Bailey laughed.

  “Really? Did you see it too?” Her mom stopped, taken by the fact.

  “Mom, seriously … she was just like her. I thought it the moment we walked off the elevator.” Bailey loved this, the way she and her mom saw so much of life the same way, how they had similar viewpoints and revelations throughout the day. It was one of the many things she was going to miss when they were living a thousand miles away from each other.

  The rest of the day went quickly, and after a fun night at the Kellers', Bailey and her mom spent the next afternoon shopping.

  “Have you thought about how much money you’ll make?” Her mom looked through a rack of sweaters and stopped to meet Bailey’s eyes. They were at H&M, a discount clothing store on Fifth Avenue. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

  Bailey knew the answer. She would make as much in a month as some people made in a year. It was an amount that didn’t make sense to her, since she would’ve gladly performed on Broadway for free. And the Kellers had already made it clear they wouldn’t take rent. She had a year-long contract, so truly she would be able to give and save a significant amount — depending on how long the producers kept her on the show.

  “I know. I guess it hasn’t really sunk in.” Bailey looked through a rack of exercise pants — perfect for rehearsals.

  That night Bailey and her mom took the Kellers out to dinner, to one of their favorite restaurants — the R Lounge at Two Times Square on the second floor of the Renaissance Hotel on West Forty-eighth Street and Seventh Avenue. The place was quiet, and the views of Times Square were the best in the city. There they learned a little more about Betty and Bob. They had three children — two who lived in upstate New York with their families, and a third who was making his way. That’s how the Kellers described him. He was making his way. Bailey wasn’t sure what that meant, but she guessed she would find out in time.

  Bailey and her mom turned in early that night, since she had rehearsal at nine the next morning. Originally Bailey had been told she’d start rehearsing a few weeks after her arrival, but Francesca changed that. The director wanted her to join the production as soon as possible. As for tomorrow’s rehearsal, her mom had been invited to watch. As they arrived at the studio and Bailey took her place with the other dancers, she was grateful again that her mom was there. This way when they talked about Bailey’s experience with Francesca and the practices, and even the various people in the cast — her mom would know what she was talking about. Because she’d taken the time to be here now.

  Francesca gave the cast a brief description of Bailey’s character. “I’ll have you know that this young dancer won her spot with a resounding audition.” Francesca gave a pointed look to Bailey. “Respect her, family. She is your sister, your peer, and your equal. She will play ensemble, and she will understudy for Penny.” She looked them over the way a teacher might look over her slightly disheveled first grade class. “Alright then, let’s begin. We’ll work first on the song that’s most appropriate for the occasion.” She smiled to herself, and in that moment Bailey could see how much the director enjoyed her job. She pointed at her assistant, poised over an iPod and speakers. “Cue ‘The New Girl in Town.’”

  Bailey smiled and then immediately forced herself to be serious. No matter the irony, it was time to learn. The others were here to help her catch on, and she would slow them down until she did. “Alright, Bailey, … line up behind the last line of dancers and watch feet. Only feet. We’ll go through it once, and then I’ll break it down.”

  Two hours passed in a blur of music and dancing and memorized movement. When they were done, Bailey was confident of the steps in “New Girl,” and she had a vague idea of how to get through “Run and Tell That.” But she had a mountain of work ahead — enough that she felt dazed and dizzy as Francesca dismissed them.

  “Don’t let her get to you.” A thin blonde came up to her as they were leaving. “I’m Chrissy Stonelake. I understudy for Amber.” Bailey shook her hand, and both girls apologized for being sweaty. Bailey laughed, grateful to have a friend in the cast. But even as she did, she noticed how thin Chrissy was. Too thin. And there were dark circles under her eyes. Bailey wondered if one day she’d be close enough to Chrissy to find out about the dark circles. “I figured she’d work us this hard, but being here … going through it … nothing could’ve really prepared me for this.”

  “I know.” The girl seemed like she was trying to look confident, or like maybe the rehearsal had caused her to feel alive and complete. “But you’ll learn more from Francesca than anyone in the business.” She grinned as she grabbed her bag. “Our rule in the family — she always calls us her family — is just do what she says and bring a lot of water.” She waved. “See you tomorrow.”

  Bailey said the same, and found her bag along the wall. Her mom waited nearby, and as they walked out they shared a smile. “That was incredible.” Bailey wondered if her legs had the strength to carry her down the steps to the waiting car. Again, the producers had provided a ride. This time so they could take Bailey’s mom to the airport. Her flight was set to leave in three hours.

  “You did great.” Her mom took Bailey’s bag from her, found a small towel inside, and handed it to her. “She really worked you.”

  “I loved it …” Bailey’s laugh gave away how tired she really was. “I mean, I’m not sure I can take ten steps after that, but still … I loved it.”

  “You’ll catch on quickly.” Her mom had a single small bag herself, and they slipped it in the car. Already Bailey could hear a difference in her voice, the awareness of how little time they had together.

  On the way to the airport they talked about their morning conversation with the Kellers. Bob and Betty had already decided they would walk with Bailey to the theater every time she had a show, and they’d wait for her at the end of the night to walk her home again. As for rehearsals, Bailey would have access to a car any time she wanted. Part of the package of being a tenant in the Kellers’ apartment building. “We’ll make sure the car picks her up and gets her to rehearsals and then brings her back when they’re finished,” Bob told them. “It’s part of our role … the way we handle hosting a young star like Bailey.”

  Now her mom smiled at the term. “I heard him say that, how he called you a young star, and I looked across the breakfast table at you.” There was a tenderness in her mother’s voice. “I wanted to say, no … you weren’t a young star. You were my little girl. My Bailey … and that, I don’t know, somehow I guess I expected you to come back home with me when you were done playing pretend on Broadway.” She reached over and put her fingers over Bailey’s. “But then I only had to remember how I’ve seen you perform … what you’re capable of doing. And I realized they were right. You’re a young star on Broadway, Bailey.”

  “Not really.” She understood what her mom meant, but she didn’t like the term. “I never think about people being stars or … I don’t know, having fans. Like some people are above others … better somehow.”

  Her mom angled her head, thoughtful. “I love that about you. I mean … they were only saying it in the kindest way. But you’re right … people are people.”

  Bailey smil
ed. “It’s what you and Dad always taught us.”

  “And now … sweet girl … you get the chance to live that out here in New York City.” She leaned in close and hugged Bailey. “You’ll be brilliant, honey. And everyone will see something different about you, how you’re not like anyone else. And along the way, I’m absolutely sure people will be changed.” She pulled back, her eyes still on Bailey’s. “Maybe even —”

  “Francesca Tilly?” They hesitated for a moment and laughed. Because once more, one last time before her mother would return to life in Bloomington and Bailey would start her own here in New York, they had finished each other’s thoughts.

  The ride to the airport was too fast, and as the driver pulled up to the American Airlines drop-off area, Bailey felt her throat tighten. It was one thing to walk around the city with her mom, marveling at the sights and being grateful about her new place and her incredible opportunity. One thing to go through an intense rehearsal with Francesca barking orders at her one on top of the other while her mom was watching. Her mother was her best friend, after all. But now …

  Her mom set her bag down and they stood facing each other on the curb. “When you were born … I would stare at you for hours and somehow believe that this day would never come.” Tears gathered in her eyes, and she spoke just loud enough to be heard above the occasional passing car. “I couldn’t imagine it … you all grown up and leaving.”

  “I know … me either.” Bailey took her mother’s hands. “You’re my best friend, Mom. We’ll talk every day. No matter how long I stay here.”

  Her mom didn’t say that even if they talked every few hours it would never be the same … she didn’t mention that there was no way around the fact this was a very real and dramatic ending to a special time in their lives. Instead she smiled through her tears. “You’ll stay a long time … I know that.” She kissed Bailey’s cheek. “Because you’re that good, honey.”

  Bailey only looked at her mom for a while, memorizing the support and confidence her mom had for her. “Do you think … do you think I can do this?” Her voice had fallen to a choked whisper.

  “Yes.” There wasn’t the slightest hesitation in her mom’s response. “You can do this … and you will be brilliant, Bailey. You will.” She smiled, gathering her composure. “I’ve loved every minute of raising you … my only girl. But you’re ready, sweetheart. Go shine brightly for Jesus.”

  “I will.” It was all she could say before the tears broke for her too. She flung herself into her mother’s arms and they stayed that way, clinging to each other for a long time. Finally, Bailey eased back first. “You need to go.”

  “Yes.” Her mom sniffed, and took the handle of her bag. “I love you, Bailey.”

  “I love you too. Thanks for everything, Mom. You and Dad … we wouldn’t be who we are without you.”

  There were no more words, nothing else either of them could say. They simply let their eyes speak the volumes between them, recapping a lifetime they couldn’t fit into this final moment. Her mom waved as she walked to the revolving glass door, and Bailey did the same. And after a few seconds, her mom walked out of sight.

  A shiver came over Bailey as the realization hit with a finality she’d never felt in all her life. This was it. She was on her own in New York City, ready to tackle her greatest dream and her biggest fears. As she climbed into the car, she reminded herself that everything would be okay, because God had brought her here, and He had provided the perfect place for her to live, the perfect way for her to get safely around the city, and the toughest director in New York City. Bailey smiled through her tears as she climbed back in the car.

  She could hardly wait for tomorrow.

  Three

  THE PAINTING WAS ALMOST FINISHED, AND ASHLEY BAXTER Blake wondered if it might be her best of all. In it there was her husband, Landon, and Cole, her son — the two of them on the Little League field. Cole in his uniform up to bat, and Landon behind him in his manager’s uniform, adjusting his son’s swing, giving him a final pep talk before his turn at bat.

  It was a moment Ashley had watched in person a number of times, but here … captured on canvas, there seemed almost no difference between the image in her mind and the one before her. She set her paintbrush down and listened to the noise from downstairs. She could hear the sound of a movie — Prince of Egypt maybe — but there were none of the usual happy voices.

  A chill ran down her arms. Ever since he’d come home from his time in the hospital, Landon hadn’t been the same. She worried about him when he left for a walk or when he was out by himself. What if he had another asthma attack? And what if this time no one saw him and the inhaler didn’t work? Her worry was hard on Landon, but Ashley wasn’t sure how to change it. A part of her didn’t think Landon should be out alone, not as long as his lungs were so unstable.

  The dynamic was strange, because since they’d first fallen in love, Landon had been the strong one, the stable one. He never let anything faze him, never gave in to the possibility that something might set him off course. From the time they’d first become friends, she was the one with the mood swings, the one who had run off to Paris to paint, and who had come home pregnant and alone. Landon? He was dependable, the one she could count on. Always there, always steady.

  But all that had changed in a week.

  “Look at it as a vacation,” Ashley had told him. “You haven’t had this much time off in way too long.” But no matter how she tried to convince him, the truth was, he’d been put on medical leave. Until doctors could determine if he really had polymyositis he couldn’t be cleared to return to work.

  Polymyositis …

  Ashley let the word rumble around in her mind, where it regularly wreaked havoc on her peace and sanity. She had googled the disease for hours but she hadn’t found a single positive anecdote or discussion. The progression was often quick … lung transplants were usually needed once it affected breathing. And after a lung transplant, less than thirty percent of the patients were alive ten years later.

  Ashley still didn’t hear anything but the cartoon from downstairs. Her mind began to race, rushing down the stairs ahead of her. What if he collapsed in the bathroom or outdoors with the dog? He paid no attention to the fact that if an attack hit when he was alone, he might not make it out of the attack alive.

  She exhaled in a burst, stood, and removed her paint apron. Moving fast enough that she probably looked a little frantic, she hurried to the stairs. “Landon, … are you there?”

  No answer. Ashley quickened her pace. Dear God … I can’t keep doing this; he has to find the right medication. Please, Father … wherever he is, help him. He was probably outside by the fishpond. He’d said something about working on it today. But if he’d been outside and passed out he might’ve fallen into the water and then — “Landon!”

  “Mommy.” Devin ran from the family room to the bottom of the stairs and met her. “Are you okay? You sound scared.”

  She pulled up, her breathing faster than it should’ve been. “Honey, do you know where Daddy is?”

  “I’m out here.” His voice came from the kitchen.

  Ashley could’ve collapsed there on the floor. He was okay … he wasn’t passed out near the fishpond or drowning in the water or suffocating in the bathroom or —

  “Mommy.” Devin scrunched up his face, curious. “You still look scared.”

  She forced a quick laugh and stooped down to his level. “No, buddy … I’m fine. I just want to talk to Daddy.”

  “Really?” Devin looked doubtful. “About something scary?”

  Her son had always been perceptive, but at times like this Ashley wished he might not grasp her emotions so completely. “No, sweetie. Nothing scary.” In light of his concerns, Devin looked afraid now too. She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed the tip of his nose. “Everything’s fine, Devin. Really. Go back and watch the movie with your sister.”

  After a few seconds he smiled at her, but his e
yes still held a slight doubt. Then he ran off to the family room to do as she asked. Ashley felt foolish for overreacting, but this was the pattern lately. She would go about the house finding him every half hour or so, just to make sure he was breathing. Usually she tried to be discreet, but today … with her imagination getting so far ahead of her … she had let her fear practically consume her.

  “Ashley?” Landon sounded slightly frustrated. “What did you want?”

  She walked to the kitchen and found him sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the window to the backyard, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He glanced at her but only for a moment. “I agree with Devin … you sounded terrified.” He took a slow sip of his coffee. “We’ve gone over this, Ash.”

  Irritation rose within her, more at herself than at him. “I’m sorry.” She took the seat beside him and touched his shoulder. “Can you look at me, Landon? Please.”

  He sighed and turned his chair so he could see her. “What … you were upstairs painting and you had the sudden thought that I was … I don’t know … pruning the rosebushes and an asthma attack came over me and dropped me to the ground?”

  She managed a sheepish shrug. “I was thinking the fishpond.”

  His almost-angry look softened. For a long time he looked at her, searching her eyes as if he was trying to understand what made her worry the way she did. But then he chuckled in defeat and looked down at his coffee. “I’m fine.” His eyes found hers again. “The doctor said I can resume normal activity.”

  “But … you’re still coughing.” Her voice was soft. She didn’t want to push the matter or make him angry. They’d never had to worry about tension between them, not in all their lives until now. “Doesn’t that mean the inhaler isn’t working … or the steroids need to be stronger?”

  “No. It means my lungs are still healing.” He sounded tired, weary. “We can’t do this, Ash.” He shook his head. “Talk about my breathing … my lungs … my asthma. Every hour of the day … every day of the week.” His shoulders sank some. “I can’t do it.”