Leaving

  Even tonight when he knew exactly what she needed. In the wake of his coughing and her concern, she didn’t need an emotional statement or something overly sentimental. She needed to laugh.

  Only Landon would know that.

  When dinner ended and the kids had pink frosting on their faces, Cole reminded them that tomorrow Landon was off work and school had a late-start day. “And then there’s tryouts tomorrow.”

  “Tryouts for me too?” Devin’s eyes got big and he spun fast in Landon’s direction.

  “No, buddy.” Landon chuckled. “You’ll play T-ball this season. You don’t need a tryout.”

  “But I do.” Cole’s voice seemed to get deeper, and he lifted his chin some. “I’m in Nationals now. That’s the highest we go for Little League around here. Right, Dad?”

  “That’s right.” Landon winked at Cole. “I have a pretty good idea you’ll make it. You were in All-Stars last year.”

  “Still …” Cole looked at Ashley. “Can we watch a family movie tonight? Like Sandlot? To get me in the mood for tryouts?”

  The Sandlot was a family favorite. There were a few unnecessary scenes, but for the most part Ashley loved the story: the tale of neighborhood boys playing ball together and believing that somehow their time at the local sandlot would go on forever.

  “You too tired?” She looked at Landon. He hadn’t coughed since earlier, and it was only seven o’clock. But still, she didn’t want him worn out. If he needed rest, he should get it. “Should we wait till the weekend?”

  “Nah,” Landon put his arm around Cole’s shoulders. “I say we get the league’s best catcher in the mood for a little baseball.”

  “Yay!” Devin jumped around. “Sandlot! Sandlot!”

  Janessa had crawled up onto the couch and was already falling asleep. Ashley took a blanket from a wicker basket on the floor and spread it over her little daughter. In a matter of minutes they were snuggled together, all five of them beneath blankets with the lights dimmed. Ashley sat with Cole on one side and Landon on the other, and even before the movie started she caught herself realizing the importance of tomorrow.

  Cole’s very last tryouts for Little League.

  Sure, he might go on to play baseball for an older league or someday for his high school. But Little League would be over. A few short months from now she would watch Cole take his last at-bat in Little League, watch him catch his last ball behind the plate. He would do his best at every practice, play every game with the gusto he was known for. Landon would coach him, and the afternoons would feel like they might last forever.

  But they wouldn’t. This was the final season.

  It made Ashley feel like she was leaving something behind, Cole’s childhood, maybe. Bloomington’s Little League played on a large multi-field complex where the little guys started out at one end of the park and worked their way—year by year — through the T-ball, Coach Pitch, and a handful of other divisions before making their way to the Nationals field.

  As the movie started, Ashley remembered she and Landon taking Cole to his first T-ball game. Sitting in the bleachers she had shaded her eyes and looked far across the complex to the big baseball diamonds, the place where the twelve-year-olds played. Forever away, she had told herself. Forever until Cole was throwing that hard and hitting balls out of the park. Before he was one of the big kids.

  But now here they were. Just like that.

  She blinked and tried to focus on the movie, but still she wondered where the years had gone. She could see him the way he was back then, all batting helmet and wide eyes, his bat nearly as big as him. How could they be more than halfway done raising that precious little guy?

  The movie gave her time to savor the moment, memorize the feel of Landon and Cole warm against her sides, the sound of Janessa Faith’s sleepy breathing and Devin’s laughter at the funny scenes. A shudder passed over her, and she realized — as she had a thousand times — how easily she might have missed all this. But for Landon’s relentless pursuit of her, his undaunted love … it would be just Cole and her tonight.

  She gathered the deep feelings of her heart and held them close. They were so blessed, all of them. Living here in the old Baxter house, sharing time like this together. Thank You, God. Thank You for this.

  The entire movie was a flashback, a look from the vantage point of adulthood at a time when the narrator and his buddies were on the brink of becoming, a time when for a little while longer they were still young boys. As the movie neared the end there came what was, for Ashley, one of the saddest scenes in all of moviemaking. The boys from the sandlot played on the dusty ball field while the narrator, Scotty, talked about how they had all grown up, what had become of them. How one went on to be an architect, another a businessman, another a professional wrestler, and so on… …and how one guy was never heard from again.

  As the narrator finished talking about each of his buddies, one at a time the twelve-year-old player would slowly disappear from the sandlot. There one minute, and gone the next. The way it was with life. And this season that would be Cole: playing his heart out in a Yankees Little League uniform one day and the next having no reason to ever step foot on the field again. Ashley dabbed at her eyes as the scene came to an end.

  “Mommy, why are you crying?” Devin peered around Landon, concern on his face.

  Landon rubbed Ashley’s shoulder and put his arm more tightly around Devin’s arm. “Mommy’s just thinking about Cole. It’s his last season of Little League.”

  “Yep,” Cole’s eyes were damp too. He gave his brother a wistful smile. “You have forever to play.”

  His words pierced Ashley’s heart, because the sentiment wasn’t true for Cole and wouldn’t be for Devin either. They had this season, yes. But the years would fly by for Devin as they had for his older brother, and one day all too soon it would be his last season. Suddenly a painting came to mind: Cole in his Little League uniform — his last season … Landon working alongside him, coaching him. The images and colors and broad strokes were so clear Ashley could hardly wait to get started. Anything to hold on to the days at hand, before the moments slipped away and the season was over. When the sight of Cole, like every other little boy who ever played Little League, would fade forever from the field where he had grown up.

  His very own personal sandlot.

  Four

  JENNY RAN LIGHTLY DOWN THE STAIRS OF HER FAMILY’S HOUSE, and tried to remember everything she had to do before tomorrow’s trip to New York City. Already it was late Saturday afternoon, and their flight was before sun-up. She hadn’t started packing, and from the sounds of it Bailey and Connor were at the piano singing.

  With a hundred things left to do.

  She started to call out to her daughter to get her moving in the right direction, but as she reached the main floor she saw her husband standing at the entrance to the living room, the place where the kids gathered whenever they sang together. He looked up and smiled, then he put his finger to his lips and motioned to her.

  “Jim,” she muttered, but went to him anyway. As she took the spot beside him, thoughts about their New York trip faded.

  Bailey and Connor were singing a duet from one of the newer Broadway shows In the Heights. The song was called “When You’re Home” and it told the story of a local girl coming home after a stint at college. Connor played the piano and still managed to harmonize perfectly with Bailey. Jenny leaned into her husband, glad the kids didn’t seem to notice them. They had always done this, Bailey and Connor. Sang together and allowed their voices and personalities to blend perfectly.

  Like two best friends.

  Jenny studied them, her grown children. And suddenly she saw them as they had been through the years. Bailey three years old and hovered over a newborn Connor as he lay on a blanket sprawled on the living room floor. “Hi, Connor. Hi, little baby. Hi …” And Connor was kicking his feet, and Bailey was leaning close enough that Connor’s baby foot hit her in the shoulder. And Bailey was
falling dramatically backwards, laughing her little-girl laugh: “Connor, that’s not sair, you kicked me, Connor!” She was giggling, and the fact that she couldn’t say the word fair correctly only made the moment that much more memorable.

  The scene changed, and Bailey was six and dolled up in her velvet Christmas dress, her long hair curled, softly framing her face. Connor was three, wearing dress pants and a shirt and vest, and Bailey was practicing a song she was singing for the Christmas concert at church, while he was doing his absolute best to keep up. “Who’s this baby, in the manger …” Connor didn’t have the words, but he would mimic the hand motions, his adoring eyes never leaving his sister.

  And they were twelve and nine, and singing to a karaoke machine Connor had gotten for his birthday, doing their best ‘N Sync imitation and laughing when the lyrics got away from them. In another blink Bailey was fifteen and Connor was twelve, and they were performing on stage together — The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, their first Christian Kids Theater show. In a matter of days, the show’s run was over and Jenny could remember — she could remember with everything in her heart — what it felt like watching Bailey and Connor help tear down the sets, taking apart Hannibal, Missouri, where Tom Sawyer had lived and breathed and sang and danced just hours earlier. The thought that went through her mind then was the exact same one going through her mind now:

  God, let me hold onto this moment …

  She watched them, memorizing the sound of their voices and the looks on their faces … the way they laughed together, even as they sang. She didn’t move, didn’t even notice herself breathing. Because after a lifetime of scenes like this one, a lifetime of summers and rehearsals and late nights when it felt like Bailey and Connor and the idyllic childhood they’d shared would go on forever, here they were at the end. She slipped her arm around Jim’s waist and leaned a little further into his shoulder. Briefly she lifted her eyes to his and she could see he was feeling the same way.

  The show run for Bailey and Connor was drawing to a close.

  Jenny looked at her daughter, at the beautiful young woman she’d become. She was ready for whatever was next. She earned high marks in college, and she’d played a starring role in a major motion picture. Her poise and confidence, her ability to sing and dance, her love for God — all of it was stronger now than the first time they’d gone to New York. Jenny had seen the look of determination and desire in Bailey’s eyes over the last few weeks when they talked about the audition.

  “I’m not letting the chance slip away,” she spoke the words in the kitchen yesterday, her eyes bright with intensity. Nothing could hide her passion. “I’ll prove it to them.” She grinned. “They need me.”

  Now here they were, hours before she and Bailey would board the plane, days before an opportunity in New York that could give Bailey her dreams and her wings. The audition that could take her from their family for months or years.

  Maybe forever.

  The song came to an end, and Connor slung his arm around his sister. He was taller than her now—by half a foot, easily. His shoulders had filled out, and he was both a strong athlete and a gifted singer and songwriter. But he still adored Bailey as much as he had when he was three years old. Time could separate them and take them in different directions, but it couldn’t change that.

  “Well,” Bailey was breathless as she looked from Connor to Jenny and Jim. “How’d we sound?”

  “You could’ve sold tickets.” Jim clapped a few times, and gave a brief nod to both kids. “I couldn’t move if I wanted to. Seriously. You guys were fantastic.”

  “Honey,” Jenny held her arms out and Bailey came to her. They hugged for several seconds, and Jenny ran her hand along her daughter’s long hair. “Sing like that on Monday and the part’s yours.”

  “Really?” Bailey eased back and smiled, her eyes an unforgettable mix of innocence and determination. “I sounded good?”

  “Amazing.” Jenny kissed her daughter’s forehead.

  Connor came alongside them and grinned at his sister. “Of course, you might need your sidekick to sound that good.”

  They all laughed, and as the group headed through the dining room into the kitchen, Jenny remembered why she’d come downstairs. “Your clothes are in the dryer, which means you haven’t finished packing.”

  Bailey laughed. “I haven’t started.”

  “Me, either.” Jenny cast a sheepish look at her husband. “Like mother, like daughter. What can I say?”

  “Let’s not say anything.” Jim’s smile kept the moment light, full of the excitement that lay ahead for Jenny and Bailey. “This might be a better time for action.”

  Connor opened a loaf of bread and pulled out two slices. The peanut butter sat open nearby. “Leave room in your suitcase for me, Mom. Don’t forget.”

  “Right.” Jenny headed upstairs with Bailey close behind her. “They’ll never notice.”

  They reached the top and Bailey turned to her mom. “I opened a Twitter account this morning.”

  “Hmmm.” Jenny’s laugh was light and easy. “That could explain your room.”

  Bailey glanced at the clothes scattered across her floor. “I guess I could’ve cleaned first.” Her shrug helped her look innocent. “It didn’t take long. And it’s what Dayne Matthews asked me to do.”

  “True.” Jenny leaned against her daughter’s door frame.

  As the movie neared, the producers — one of them former actor Dayne Matthews — hoped Bailey would be involved in publicity, and that by posting on Twitter she would gather movie fans who wanted to know more about her life and her connection to Brandon Paul.

  “I have one friend following me.” Bailey grinned.

  “Connor?”

  “Exactly.” She headed into her room and then stopped short. “I thought maybe …” her eyes became softer, more pensive, “I don’t know, maybe Cody will figure out I’m on Twitter and follow my updates. So he won’t forget about me.”

  The reaction in Jenny’s heart was sure and immediate. An ache that would always come when her daughter mentioned Cody. “Honey, … he won’t ever forget you. No matter what he’s going through right now.”

  Bailey was quiet, and for a long while she looked at her floor, at the mess around her, and then at the photo of her and Cody on the table near the window. “I miss him.”

  “I know.” Jenny nodded. “We all do.” Moments like this she was tempted to be angry at Cody for what he’d done to Bailey’s heart, leaving without any logical reason. But she had stopped being angry a while ago. Whatever lay behind Cody’s decision, he had to work through it.

  A sad smile came over Bailey’s face. “There’s nothing I can do about it. I just wish I could call him or text him. Let him know about my audition. How God’s working in my life. That sort of thing.”

  Jenny didn’t have to tell Bailey not to act on those impulses. She merely allowed the wisdom of the years to shine from her eyes, her expression.

  “I know.” Bailey picked her empty suitcase off the floor and tossed it on her bed. “I won’t do it. Next time he’ll have to pursue me like a man pursuing water in a desert.”

  “Right.” Jenny went to her and gave her a side hug. “That’s it. That’s what makes you one in a million, sweet girl.” She held her close for a few seconds. “I’m proud of you, Bailey. If I haven’t said so in a while.”

  “Thanks.” She took a stack of jeans and sweaters and set them in the suitcase. “I’m good. I’m over him, really.” She smiled, but it didn’t hide the sadness in her eyes. “I tell myself that anyway. But you know me.” She hesitated. “I still miss him.”

  “Let’s talk about it later.” Jenny backed up a few steps and nodded toward her own room down the hall. “After we pack.”

  “Deal.” Bailey looked okay. The sadness over Cody was always there, beneath the surface.

  They had practically grown up together. No matter who came and went from Bailey’s life in the years ahead, no one would ever repla
ce Cody. Not the way Jenny saw it. She headed down the hall to her room to pack. The funny thing was, she couldn’t be sure anymore that Cody was the right guy for Bailey. Especially with the silence he’d kept between them lately. But whether they ever spoke again, Bailey would always miss him. Jenny was sure of that.

  She thought about Bailey’s efforts these past weeks. Jenny would find her in their family’s dance room working out long after dinner, when the boys were already headed for bed. And several times a day she heard Bailey doing vocal warm-ups, taking the audition ahead as seriously as she’d taken anything in her life. Her daughter’s intensity lately was one more reason Jenny felt the urgency of change, the reality that life wouldn’t always stay the way it was today, with her kids under one roof. If this was her time to fly, the goodbye would be bittersweet. Desperately hard for Jenny and Jim, but so very right for Bailey. Even now Jenny could do nothing but smile over her daughter’s enthusiasm. She might miss Cody. But nothing could dim her excitement over this New York audition.

  Not even her broken heart.

  Five

  BAILEY FELT DIFFERENT ABOUT THIS TRIP TO NEW YORK FROM the moment she learned she was going. The first time around, she was nervous and unsure, aware that she didn’t have the experience or the training to pull off a successful audition. Today she felt like the favorite in an Olympic race. God had given her the ability and the confidence, and she had worked harder than ever before — honing her dance skills and her voice — so that now she was ready. She could feel it all the way to her soul.

  They were ten minutes from landing, and Bailey looked out the window at the city coming into view. The Sunday afternoon was cloudless, blue skies spanning over the Hudson River and all of Manhattan. “So many buildings.” Bailey turned to her mom in the middle seat. “It always looks surreal, like it isn’t possible for that many skyscrapers to be on one small piece of ground.”

  Her mom smiled and leaned closer, peering at the dozens of tall buildings that made up New York City. “First time I saw New York from the air, I was in middle school. I wondered how an island didn’t sink under so many buildings.”