To Josh, my tenderhearted perfectionist…
The weeks of this past school year have flown by, and you have grown right along with them, my precious son. So many memories will remind me of your first year of high school, but some will always stand out. The week, for instance, when you first appeared in the paper as one of the area’s top leading rushers. The next game someone on the sidelines commented on your talents, and in your quiet, humble way, you simply pointed up and said, “It’s all because of God.” So young, and yet such a leader already. Another memory I’ll hold tight to is the time you attended a youth rally at your Christian school. A few girls from the public middle school attended and spotted you. They walked up and made a face at you. “You go to this Christian school,” they sneered. “Yes,” you answered. “So what’s that mean, you’re a goody good?” Rather than be intimidated or feel the need to impress them, you smiled and nodded. “That’s right. I want to be a goody good.” More than all your touchdowns and more than your great grades, I’m proud of your character, son. Hold tight to that. With great talent comes great temptation, and I’m sure the years ahead will prove that. I have no doubt that someday we will see your name in headlines and that—if God allows it—you’ll make it to the pros. You’re that good, and everyone around you says so. Now flash back 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, reached up with your small fingers and brushed back my bangs, and said, “Hi, Mommy. I love you.” It might’ve taken six months, but I knew as you said 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 for the day. You have an unlimited future ahead of you, Josh, and I’ll forever be cheering on the sidelines. Keep God first in your life. I love you always.
To EJ, my chosen one…
Here you are in the last few months of eighth grade, and I can barely recognize the social academic leader you’ve become. We worried that moving you to the Christian school with one year left in junior high might hurt you. Maybe you’d have trouble making new friends or adjusting. I think you worried too. But look at what you’ve become in this one short school year! You are one of our top students, and you’re inviting a different set of friends over every weekend. I compare that to your utter silence back at the public schools and I can only celebrate and thank God that this was the best decision we’ve ever made 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, son, a child with such potential. I’m amazed because you’re so talented in so many ways, but all of them pale in comparison to your desire to truly live for the Lord. I’m praying you’ll have a strong passion to use your gifts for God as you enter 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…
Here it is, baseball season again—your very last in Little League. Funny how life goes so fast. We signed you up to play T-ball, and once in a while on hot summer days when you were playing, we’d gaze at the far end of the park, at the field where the big kids played. It was hard to picture you ever getting that big, because that seemed like forever away. So many stages and levels of baseball between T-Ball and the end of Little League. But now, precious son, you’re there. One more season, one more All-Stars, and someday soon, one final at-bat in Little League. Your very last. You’re an amazing athlete, Austin, defying the odds and proving again and again that you are our miracle boy. I’m sure you’ll play baseball again in one of the older leagues or for your high school one day soon. But for now, I will gladly relinquish the role of author and speaker and simply sit in the stands and keep score for your team. Little League mom for one more season. I’m grateful you take your sports so seriously, but even more than that, I’m blessed that you take your role as a Christian so seriously. The other day we were driving somewhere and you said that your friend Karter made an observation. “Austin,” he said, “I think you’re going to grow up to be just exactly like your dad.” You shared that story proudly and beamed at us from the backseat. And up in the front seat, your dad had tears in his eyes. Yes, Austin, you are growing up to be like your daddy. There could be no greater compliment, because your dad is the most amazing man. The bittersweet of knowing that every morning you stand a little taller is juxtaposed with the joy of knowing that Karter is right. You’re a little more like your dad every day. 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 season. As you soar toward your teenage years, 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.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
What Readers are Saying About Karen Kingsbury’s Books
Other Life-Changing Fiction™ by Karen Kingsbury
Forever in Fiction
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
A Note From Karen
Reader Study Guide
Read an Excerpt From the Next Book in the Above the Line Series: Take Four
Acknowledgments
About the Publisher
Share Your Thoughts
One
ANDI WAS SICK OF LYING TO herself.
After her first night with Taz, the two of them spent most of the next week in each other’s arms. But then he began making strange excuses and standing her up. He was working on another film, he told her. Something that would take up most of his summer. It wasn’t until one afternoon when she was walking from the library to the cafeteria that she saw Taz arm in arm with a petite brunette. Andi was almost certain she recognized the girl, and as they came closer, she knew where she’d seen her. The brunette had been part of the ensemble in Scrooge.
Which could only mean one thing. She was Taz’s new actress, his new project. He was probably telling her that true beauty came from using her body as art, or something like that. Andi watched the way the girl gazed at him, how she laughed and giggled and walked close to his arm. The picture burned an image in her mind and tortured her late at night.
As the truth dawned on her, Andi could think only one thing: Bailey’s warning had been right after all. Now Andi had no one but herself to blame. She was a fool, and her heart was broken in half. She couldn’t eat or sleep, and she felt nauseous nearly every morning, drowning in the heartache of all she’d given up, all she’d lost to a guy who had played her for a fool.
Taz was a
fraud. Everything he’d told her had been a lie, and once Andi admitted that much to herself, she knew she could move on. She was still devastated, but at least she wasn’t waiting for his call while he was out sleeping with someone else.
The next lie was harder to handle, the one she’d been telling herself. The lie that the physical changes in her body could all be explained by a broken heart. The headaches and nausea, the vomiting some mornings. Her symptoms were too strong to be merely a physical manifestation of heartache. Finally, on the last day of May she drove to the local pharmacy and bought something she had never planned to need until well after she was married.
A pregnancy test.
She took it home, read the directions, and then drew a deep and steadying breath. In two minutes she’d have the results.
Results that—whatever they were—would change the rest of her life.
BAILEY GRABBED HER BROTHER’S DUFFEL BAG from the hall closet and raced back to her bedroom. Fifteen minutes until she had to be on the road, headed to Lake Monroe for the Campus Crusade retreat. She’d been waiting months for this weekend, but her history test for her summer course at Indiana University had run late and now she was scrambling. She felt frantic as she grabbed a pair of jeans, a few T-shirts, and a hooded sweatshirt. She looked around her room, and her eyes fell on a framed photo of her and Tim. For an instant she didn’t move or breathe or remember what she was doing. Why did the picture bug her? It was taken on opening night of Scrooge last winter, she and Tim both dressed in their costumes. But something about his eyes weren’t right, like she was any other fan, lucky to have her picture taken with him. He was her boyfriend, but his expression would’ve been the same if she wasn’t in the picture at all.
“Focus.” She turned her attention back to the bag and picked up where she left off. Socks, her Bible, the journal her mom gave her for the trip. Half a dozen other necessities and she zipped the top. Tim was attending the retreat for sure, which was good. They needed to talk. Bailey hoped time alone at the campsite would bring them closer to God and each other—something to help her remember why she was dating him when her heart couldn’t stop thinking about Cody Coleman.
A sad sigh slipped through her lips as she slung the duffel bag over her shoulder. Cody wouldn’t be there this weekend. He had plans with his mom, last Bailey heard. Just as well. Cody never seemed to want more than a friendship with her, but when Bailey was near him she could barely remember Tim’s name. That had to mean something, right? She and Cody were closer now than they’d been for a while. They texted sometimes, and once in a while they even talked on the phone. Tim said he didn’t mind this and was confident in who he was and with his place in Bailey’s life.
Even if privately Bailey had doubts.
Bailey breathed deep and steadied her heart. Forget about the guys. This weekend was about time alone with God and her friends from Cru. Her ringtone went off just as she left her room. The caller ID told her it was Tim, and she smiled. He was a great guy, really. If it weren’t for Cody, she’d probably be wondering whether Tim was maybe the one she could spend her life with. Her crush on Tim had lasted since she was a sophomore in high school, and now that they’d been dating for more than a year, she should’ve been the happiest girl on the Indiana campus.
She slid her phone open. “Hey!” She kept her tone upbeat. “Don’t tell me you’re already there!”
“Hey,” his voice told her something was wrong. “I’ve got strep throat. A hundred and two fever. I’m a wreck.”
“No.” Disappointment came over her. She’d pictured taking walks with Tim during free time at the retreat, learning more about his dreams for the future. Maybe getting past her uncertainty and finding a stronger connection with him. “Did you go to the doctor?”
“We just got back. I’m in bed all weekend. Doc says no going out, no visitors, and to take all my antibiotics. I guess it’s really contagious.”
“That’s terrible.” Bailey flopped onto her bed. As sorry as she was about how this changed the feel of the retreat, she felt worse for him. “Okay. Well get some rest and take care of yourself. I’ll call you Monday.”
“Okay.” He sounded defeated. “I’ll pray for you.”
“You too.”
They hung up and Bailey slumped over her knees. Maybe she wouldn’t go after all. There was a chance of rain, so how much fun would that be? Stuck in a cabin with a bunch of girls she didn’t know that well, trying to stay dry all weekend. She sighed, but as she did she caught a glimpse of the sky. A sliver of blue between the clouds. The school year was wrapping up and classes this week had been tougher than she expected. She was worried about a couple upcoming finals. Between that and the New York audition she was hoping for in August, she needed this time. Needed to be close to God to prepare for whatever the next season in life held.
“Fine,” she spoke the word out loud, as if God were standing there watching her. Which He was, in a way. “I’ll go, Lord. And You go with me, okay?” She couldn’t think of a single time when she’d gone to a church camp or retreat or listened to a sermon and not come home with something special, some way that the Lord had proved the time well spent.
This retreat would be no different. Maybe she’d get closer to the girls in her Bible study. They had plans to start up again in the fall, and next term maybe they would become closer friends outside Cru. She knew some of the girls had to be struggling the way Andi was—with the campus party life or guys who wanted more than they were willing to give. Their struggles were the same ones Bailey faced—uncertainty about life and their futures, and it helped to talk to each other. But so far the meetings had netted little more than a surface discussion about the weekly Bible passage. Maybe if she led the way and talked about her struggles, the tone of the meetings would change.
She gathered her bag, lifted it up onto her shoulder again, and tucked her sleeping bag and pillow under her other arm. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, her mom was sitting next to Ricky, helping him with his math.
“Okay, so if Susie has five horse stickers, Claire has three cat stickers, and Edward has four dog stickers, what is the average number of stickers they each have? That’s the question.”
Bailey smiled as she set her things down. She remembered those days, when the most difficult thing about life was figuring out how many stickers Edward had. She put her arm around Ricky’s shoulders. “How’s it going, bud?”
“Pretty good.” He tapped his pencil on his paper and flashed her a crooked grin. “I hate word problems.”
“I know.” She shared a look with her mom. “I must’ve been the worst Flanigan kid at word problems, wouldn’t you say?”
“You and Connor.” Her mom laughed. “I had to use drawings and apples and oranges, sometimes full-on dramas just to get the problem to click in your head.”
“Good news, bud,” she kissed Ricky on the cheek. “If you don’t major in math, you’ll be finished with it after your first quarter in college.” She pressed her fist in the air and did a little dance. “The way I’m finished with it.”
“That’s forever away.” Ricky sighed and stared once more at the math paper.
Their mother’s smile softened. “Not forever, buddy. I would slow life down if I could. You’re my last little guy to go through Mrs. Ebner’s word problems.” She patted Ricky’s hand. “We can take our time.”
Ricky groaned and laughed at the same time. “As long as I finish before dinner. Me and Dad wanna play catch.”
With Tim not going on the retreat, Bailey was no longer in a hurry. She would get there eventually, but she loved this—time around her family. The older she got, the more every weekend at home, every summer, felt precious. As if she could feel time pulling her toward a grown-up life. Whatever that might be.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Meetings in the city. The team’s excited about next season.”
A smile lifted Bailey’s spirits. That was the beauty of sports, the joy of having a co
ach for a father. Every season was full of hope and expectation. It kept life entertaining and full of possibility. “We’ll have to take in a few days of summer camp.”
“A few?” Ricky shook his head. “No, sir. I’m going as many days as I can. Dad says their new running back is the fastest guy he’s ever seen.” He puffed out his chest. “Other than me, of course.”
They all laughed, and Bailey asked about the other boys.
“No homework.” Jenny stood and got cups of water for herself and Ricky. “They’re on a bike ride with Connor.”
“Oh.” Bailey took a seat at the kitchen bar. “I have that Campus Crusade retreat at Lake Monroe, but I’ll wait till they come back. I haven’t talked to Connor in two days. The other boys either.”
“They’re doing great. I can’t believe how tall Connor’s getting.”
“Is he doing CKT’s summer camp?”
“He said he’d like to focus more on football this summer.” Jenny took a long sip of her water. “I’m proud of him. It isn’t easy to switch gears.”