Leaving

  Cheyenne, the truth was clear in her eyes. As clear as the water in Lake Monroe. Her eyes told him that she hadn’t only loved him back then. She loved him now.

  The way she just might love him forever.

  Twenty-Six

  THE FEEL OF CODY’S ARMS AROUND HER STAYED WITH BAILEY ON the drive home and through the barbecue with her family, and long into the night. They hadn’t cleared anything up, really. He had no explanation for why he hadn’t called, and there were complications now that hadn’t been there before. His friendship with Cheyenne, and hers with Brandon Paul.

  But all of that paled to how it felt simply to be with him.

  His question haunted her — how had she expected their time together to go? Once she knew that Cody was holding vigil at the hospital with Cheyenne, she certainly couldn’t have expected it to be a reunion … or a rekindling. But she’d gone anyway, walked into a situation that was in some ways a guaranteed heartache.

  She understood the answer better now, after a night’s sleep. She wanted something like a scene from a movie. He would tell her he had no interest in Cheyenne and she would say the same about Brandon. They would hug and hold onto each other, and promise each other that they’d never say goodbye again — no matter how far apart they might live for a year or two.

  But the thing about movies was this: People paid money to watch scenes like that on a big screen, because they never played out that way in person.

  No matter what they might’ve said to each other, the truth wasn’t going anywhere. He had feelings for Cheyenne — even if he couldn’t quite define them. And it was the same for her and Brandon. Otherwise she wouldn’t feel giddy every time he texted her. Whatever separate roads their hearts had set out on, they each needed to finish the journey … see where it took them.

  And maybe somewhere down the road, they’d find each other again.

  It was Sunday morning and her family was headed back from church. Home to load up her suitcases and say their final goodbyes. She stared out the window of her parents’ Suburban and recognized the quiet around her. As if no one wanted to state the obvious — that this might be their last day together as a family for a very long time. Their last day of a childhood that had been beyond amazing. The sort of childhood other people only dream about.

  From the backseat there was no joking or teasing, no casual conversation about the practices in the coming week or who was taking who in the draft or what homework assignments loomed. She heard the slightest sniffling and she turned to see Ricky, sitting in the middle of the backseat between Justin and Shawn. Ricky’s face was red with quiet tears … Ricky who had struggled with his own health a few years back, and who was always the one quick with a joke or an opinion.

  He caught her looking at him, and he smiled … even as his face scrunched up with another stream of tears. He shook his head, as if to say he couldn’t talk, couldn’t say anything. Not here with everyone all around. She returned the smile and glanced at Shawn, and then Justin. They weren’t crying, but they each made eye contact with her and held it for a few seconds.

  She sat between Connor and BJ, and it was clear the youngest of her Haitian brothers was feeling this goodbye like everyone else, because he only stared out the window. Connor reached for her hand and squeezed it. No words were ever needed with Connor. He had been her best friend as far back as she could remember. Saying goodbye to him would be hardest of all.

  They parked and climbed out of the car, and her dad was the first to speak. “I’ll load the suitcases.”

  “Thanks.” Bailey and her mom had taken care of every detail. There was nothing left to do but say goodbye. She checked her purse, making sure she had her wallet and her cell phone. “You’ve got the boarding passes, right mom?”

  “I do.” Her mother was struggling, same as all of them. “We should probably get on the road.”

  The boys had homework — even if they didn’t talk about it — so only her dad and Connor were riding with them to the airport. As Justin and Shawn helped with the last two suitcases, everyone gathered alongside the Suburban, and their dad cleared his throat. He hadn’t talked about how hard this was for him — watching his only daughter leave home. But the sorrow in his eyes said it all. “Let’s hold hands.” He looked at her, his smile assuring her that no matter how difficult this was, he was happy for her.

  Slowly the boys joined hands, all of them delaying the goodbye that was coming. When they were in a tight circle, shoulder to shoulder, their father began. “Lord, you’re in this move Bailey is making, and we thank you for that. She’s leaving, yes … but she’s not leaving alone.”

  This time the sniffles came from several of the boys. Bailey could hear it, but she didn’t want to look. Otherwise she might change her mind and stay here — where she was loved and where danger and uncertainty didn’t lurk around every corner.

  Her dad continued. “She’s not leaving alone because you go with her.” There was a catch in his voice. “And we see proof of that with the way you arranged her housing. Thank you for this couple — the Owens. And we pray Bailey will learn much living with them.” He hesitated, and clearly he was fighting back tears, fighting to keep control.

  The sound of his sadness sent Bailey over the edge, and the tears came. They came in streams down her face, and she did nothing to stop them while her father kept praying.

  “You gave us Bailey twenty-one years ago and you trusted us to raise her. Now … now we trust you to take her from here. Please, God … keep her safe. Keep her eyes on you. And bring us back together again someday soon.” He sniffed once. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Bailey opened her eyes and looked at her brothers. All of them were crying except Connor — who was standing awkwardly by the car door. His turn was coming … an hour from now at the Indianapolis Airport. Bailey could barely see for her tears, but she smiled at the boys. “I’ll miss you. All of you.”

  They nodded, and Justin wiped his fist across his cheek. He made a sound that was more laugh than cry. “Just get it over with, Bailey … I can’t do this.”

  “Me, either.” She appreciated his honesty and the light moment it provided for all of them. He was standing closest to her, so she went to him first. “Bye, Justin … text me, okay?”

  He nodded. Then he put his muscled arm around her and held her like he’d never done before. Like he would’ve done anything to keep this moment from happening. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too.” She made her way to BJ, and though their goodbye wasn’t as emotional, she had a feeling he would cry himself to sleep that night. He had told her yesterday after dinner that their family would never be the same with her gone. That was all she’d needed to hear from him.

  Shawn promised to Skype with her, and like with the other boys, they exchanged I love you‘s. Ricky was last — her little brother. At six foot, he was all legs and puppy dog eyes, his big feet giving him the appearance of a human L. But inside he was still the boy who had undergone heart surgery as an infant, and who was maybe the most tenderhearted of the Flanigan boys ever since. He threw his arms around her neck and held on.

  “Buddy … we need to get going.” Their dad’s voice was kind.

  Ricky nodded, but he was crying too hard to talk. As he pulled back, he mouthed the words, “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, Ricky.” Bailey’s tears were making her T-shirt wet, but she didn’t care. In some ways, saying goodbye to Ricky was harder in its own unique way. He was only thirteen. Depending on where life took her from here, he could spend the rest of his growing up years without his sister living under the same roof. It was the way of life, but it broke Bailey’s heart all the same.

  Finally, it was time to go. Bailey would be back, of course. There would be breaks in the schedule, and anything could happen on Broadway. Producers closed shows all the time. But that didn’t change the significance of the moment.

  As they drove down the driveway, Bailey looked back o
nce more at her brothers, all of them lined up, waving at her. A million memories flashed in her mind, times she would take with her always. All the mornings waking up in her room, and the laughter around the breakfast and dinner table … every football game on TV or family game night … all of it was behind her now.

  She watched them until her dad turned the corner, and the house and her childhood faded from view.

  The drive went too quickly, and along the way Connor shared his iPod with her, playing songs they both loved and making her laugh the way he always had. As if this were only a trip to pick up their aunt from Texas or a drive to her father’s training facility. But all too soon they were at the airport, and they were forced into a final round of goodbyes.

  Her dad went first. He hugged her and stroked the back of her head. “You’ll always be my little girl, Bailey.” He didn’t try to hold back his tears this time. They filled his eyes and fell onto his rugged face. “A part of me wants to beg you not to go.” He blinked, struggling to see her. “But I can’t do that. You’re ready.” He brushed away her tears with his thumb. “No matter how hard this is, you’re ready.” He hugged her again. “Be the brightest light on Broadway, sweetheart.” He took a step back, and he put his hand over his heart. Like she was taking a piece of him with her. “I’ll leave the light on, okay?”

  “Okay.” She watched him hug her mother goodbye, and the two of them talked about the details. When they would arrive, and how she would be sure to call him when they got there safely.

  Bailey turned to Connor. He had laughed with her right until the moment they pulled up at the airport drop-off. And even now … his hands tucked in his pockets … Connor didn’t cry. He held his arms out to her and pulled her close.

  This was the hardest part of all — the fact that she wouldn’t have Connor there. And suddenly in a rush the finality of the goodbye, the transition between all they’d known growing up together and the uncertainties of tomorrow loomed like the greatest hurt she’d ever felt. Sobs wracked her body and she clung to him, as if by holding on she might find a way to turn back the clock. Even for one more day.

  “I can’t … believe … you’re so strong.” She was getting tears on his sweatshirt, but neither of them cared. He didn’t answer her, so she wiped at her tears and looked up at him. Only then did she see how difficult this was for Connor too. He was crying as hard as any of them. Maybe harder.

  He kissed her cheek and took a step back. His eyes told her that he loved her and he wanted to go with her, and he couldn’t imagine finishing up his last two years of high school without her. Couldn’t imagine the long Friday nights without swapping movie lines or watching the latest funny video on YouTube.

  But he only smiled at her through his tears and nodded at her. Nodded as if to say she was doing the right thing. She’d found her dream, and she needed to follow it. He raised his hand and waved once, his eyes so like hers. Then he climbed into the passenger seat of the Suburban and brought his fist to his face. Their dad was already at the wheel, and with Connor’s door shut, the two of them drove off.

  Bailey waved until they were gone, and then she fell into her mom’s arms and the two of them stayed that way nearly a minute, until they were composed enough to head inside and check in. Then and through the security line, and even as they took their seats on the plane, she and her mom said very little. Their goodbye was still days off, and for now both of them were too sad to talk about the significance of this moment.

  The way it marked the end of her growing up years.

  She took the window seat, and her mom sat in the middle. They leaned on each other, and when she saw tears on her mom’s cheeks, Bailey held her hand until the sadness passed. It was like her mother had told her yesterday: Everyone in her family was happy for her — thrilled, even. She was going to do what she was born to do.

  But that didn’t make it easier to say goodbye.

  Bailey looked out the window as the plane took off and headed east. Her mom leaned back, her eyes closed … emotionally drained from all the leaving. But Bailey couldn’t sleep. Eventually her cheeks dried, and her skin felt tight from so many tears. Her nose was still stuffy, but a realization dawned on her.

  It’s really happening … Dear God, You’ve opened this door and now it’s my time to walk through it. How great You are, Father … to trust me with this chance.

  I am with you always, Daughter … No matter how far.

  The voice spread peace through her heart and soul, and made her smile. Yes, she would miss her family. There would no doubt be nights when she cried herself to sleep like BJ was bound to do. But that didn’t change the fact that this coming time in New York was a gift from God. Bailey breathed in slowly and looked out the window again. As she exhaled, she thought about the guys in her life.

  Brandon Paul … and Cody, of course.

  Always Cody.

  She had no idea what would happen with them, or who would follow after her once she reached New York City. No idea who she would love in the years to come. But she knew this much — God had great plans for her life. Jeremiah 29:11 promised her that. And, even more, she could rest in the fact that God was in control. He would soothe her heart when she missed her family, and He would help her give her heart to the right guy … all in His perfect timing. For now, He would give her the ability and stamina to start rehearsals for Hairspray and do the one thing her father had asked of her.

  Be the brightest light on Broadway.

  Bailey felt the excitement rising within her, and suddenly — more than the missing and sadness and saying goodbye, she was consumed by a single thought.

  She couldn’t wait for the adventure to begin.

  Read an excerpt from the next book in the Bailey Flanigan Series: Learning. Coming soon!

  Learning

  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS HAD PASSED SINCE BAILEY STOPPED BY the hospital to tell Cody 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, praying for her and pleading with God to save her life.

  The machines around her whirred and beeped and reminded him that she was still alive. But everything was tenuous … her condition, her prognosis. Her future. Cody shifted in the chair and looked around. It was a new hospital, and the room had a sofa sleeper against one wall. Tara had gone home for the night, but Cody had stayed. Someone had to be here if she woke up. When she woke up.

  Cody had brought his guitar — something he hoped might make a difference in bringing Cheyenne around. He wasn’t very good, and he still knew 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 was sure. 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 texts.

  So that means you’ll play for me one of these days, right?

  He’d laughed at the time, and his response hadn’t promised anything. I better practice first.

  Don’t practice. Just play the way you play. All music is beautiful, Cody.

  It was that last line … all music is beautiful … that convinced him to bring his guitar to the hospital. He’d had time to rush home after her crash and bring a few things to the hospital. He’d gone home since then to change clothes and shower, to prepare for work and coaching. But otherwise he was here. Last night — after Bailey’s goodbye — he even slept here.

  Because if he went home with the box of things Bailey gave him, if he looked through the box and remembered every good and wonderful thing about being with Bailey, he might never come back. Why be here when Cheyenne woke up if he didn’t have feelings for her, if he wasn’t going to be here through her recovery and maybe afterwards? But the truth was something he was still grabbing hold of. Once again, Bailey was dating someone else — this time
Hollywood’s most popular actor. He couldn’t compete with Brandon Paul … he wouldn’t try.

  Instead he kept reminding himself what Tara had told him, Tara who had once a long time ago dreamed about having Cheyenne as a daughter-in-law. Maybe God saved you from Iraq for Cheyenne … have you thought about it? Cody stared at the beautiful girl in the bed, at her peaceful expression and the way her body lay so perfectly still. Maybe Tara was right. It was all he could think about, and so he hadn’t gone home last night. He’d stayed right here beside Cheyenne, sleeping when he needed to, and otherwise praying.

  Cody stood and stretched. Tara would be coming soon. She had called and told him that after church she would be by for a few hours. This ordeal had to be so hard on her. She’d lost her son, and now the young woman who would’ve married him was fighting for her life. The room was quiet other than the sound of the machines. Cody walked to the place a few feet away where his guitar stood and he picked it up.

  If she wanted to hear him play, he would play. And never mind that he wasn’t all that good. He sat down at her bedside again and found the right chords. The song was an old one, something he’d heard in chapel every now and then while he was serving overseas. The music filled the room, and Cody was surprised. It didn’t sound half bad. “Great is thy faithfulness … Oh, God my Father … there is no shadow of turning with thee …”

  The doctor had explained that when Cheyenne woke up she might not remember him. She could have amnesia or any number of brain injury symptoms. Her list of damaged body parts was long and frightening. The impact of the truck hitting her broadside as it ran the red light had slammed her head against the inside door frame. The swelling in her brain had stopped, but there was no way to tell just how damaged her cognitive functions might be.