Take One

  She kept her eyes on the road and slid her phone open. As she did, she caught Tim’s name in the caller ID. With one hand, she pressed the hands-free button. “Hey …” her tone softened. She cared for Tim, really she did. Sometimes she thought she might be in love with him. He’d been around as long as she could remember, and for years she had dreamed of dating him. He was the theater group’s leading man, the best singer and actor, the guy every girl in CKT dreamed of dating. He was comfortable. And now Tim was calling her. That had to mean something. She leaned back in her seat. “You’re up late.”

  “Finished my homework in music comp.” He released a long breath. “No mercy. Especially in music.”

  “I know. I mean, it’s the first week.”

  “You driving?”

  “How’d you know?” She liked the easy way they had with each other, how every time they talked on the phone, she felt like they were in the same room.

  “You have me on speaker, for one thing.” He laughed. “And I called your dorm. Andi told me. She said you should be home anytime. I sorta hoped I’d catch you before you got back.” He paused. “You know, so I can have you to myself for a few minutes.”

  Bailey smiled. “You have me that way when I’m in my dorm. Andi’s always doing her own thing—homework or texting friends back home.”

  “Yeah,” he drew out the word. “I guess this is just better. You and me. Hey, so did you hear?” His tone was instantly more up-beat. “Auditions for this year’s musicals are Tuesday.”

  “I know.” Bailey could hardly wait. “Andi’s going to audition too.”

  They talked for a few minutes about Scrooge, and how the leading roles were fairly small. “Which is good,” Bailey stifled a yawn. She was almost back to campus. The thought of Tim and Andi and her joining a bunch of college kids from all over the country in daily rehearsals for an actual Indiana University production was more than she could imagine. The competition was bound to be intense. “Smaller leads give a lot of kids the chance to make the adjustment to college theater. Anyway, I’m not worried about a lead. I just hope we all get in.”

  “Come on.” A smile hung in Tim’s voice. “We’ll get in. You know that.”

  “Not really. This isn’t CKT.”

  “Yeah, but you and me? We’re ready for this.” He sounded more intense than before. “And you’re right about the smaller leads, but there is one main role. I hope they’ll at least consider underclassmen.”

  Something about Tim’s competitiveness, or maybe the direction of the conversation, shot a blast of cold air over the moment. “So … you want Scrooge? The main role?”

  “I’m gonna try.” Tim laughed but the sound felt a little awkward. “It’d be great on a résumé. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

  Bailey pulled into the dorm parking lot and found a spot. She suddenly wanted to get off the phone. “Hey, so I’ll see you at auditions.”

  “Pray for me.”

  “Yeah.” She hesitated. “For all of us, right?”

  “Right. Of course.” Tim’s laugh sounded forced. “That’s what I meant.”

  As Bailey hung up she took a last look at her phone and shook her head. That was the trouble with Tim. He was more about himself than anyone else, and at times like this she wondered if she was wasting her time dating him. She sighed and slipped her phone into her jacket pocket. The call to Cody would have to wait since she didn’t want Andi asking about him. Her roommate knew about Tim, but Cody … Cody wasn’t someone Bailey was willing to talk about yet. What could she say? Right now things with Cody were weird. They hardly saw each other, so Bailey couldn’t even say he was her friend.

  She walked quickly through the well-lit parking lot, past the security guard who was always on duty, and up the stairs to her building. Cody was living off campus with a few friends he’d played football with at Clear Creek High. Bailey saw him last week on campus, but their paths didn’t exactly cross. Cody seemed like he kept things that way on purpose.

  He would probably not admit that. He’d tell her he was busy with class and his newest thing—training for a local triathlon. He wore a prosthetic beneath his jeans and no one could’ve guessed about his injury. Bailey wasn’t surprised that Cody was going all out to become once more the athlete he’d been before going to war. Years ago Cody had nearly died from alcohol poisoning. The ordeal changed his life and made him determined to make the most of every day he’d been given. Whether on a battlefield in Iraq or recovering from his battle wounds, his quiet determination was one of the reasons Bailey was so drawn to him.

  A group of girls from the dorms across the hall from Bailey and Andi were sitting on the couches just inside the front door, and Bailey talked to them for a few minutes.

  “Hey … some really cute guy came by earlier asking for you.” The girl with the news sat on the arm of one of the sofas. She was tall and thin—a freshman forward for the IU women’s basketball team. She raised her eyebrow. “I mean, really cute.”

  The other girls nodded their agreement, and one of them giggled at the others and then at Bailey. “Seriously. He was hot.”

  Bailey thought back to her conversation with Tim. He’d been studying all night, so then who? “He asked for me?”

  “Definitely.” One of the girls elbowed a cute blonde sitting on her right side. “Bimbo here tried to convince him she was you.”

  The blonde shrugged. “He wasn’t interested. He only wanted you.”

  “It wasn’t that dark-haired guy who comes around now and then. What’s his name? Tim something?”

  Bailey was almost afraid to ask, as if it might be better to privately hope that the guy who’d come by was Cody, rather than to find out it had only been some classmate looking to exchange notes on their history class. “Did he say his name?”

  “Nope.” The tall girl stood and stretched. “Believe me, we tried to get it out of him. He said it didn’t matter. Not much of a sense of humor. Very intense.”

  The blonde rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and when you weren’t here, he just left.”

  “Hmmm.” Bailey wasn’t even sure about the names of the girls. She was hardly going to give any hints about who she hoped the guy might be. “Maybe he’ll come back.”

  “We hope.” Several of the girls giggled again.

  Bailey laughed too, and she waved at the group as she headed down the hall to her dorm. So far, attending Indiana University was everything Bailey had dreamed. Her classes were interesting—even when she disagreed with her professors. Her classmates were outgoing and easily engaged, the dorm life felt a little like a giant slumber party, and the freedom of planning her own daily schedule was making her feel more grown up. She thought about the mystery guy and figured he couldn’t have been Cody. Not when Cody was determined to stay out of her way, to give her a life without him. No, only one thing about college wasn’t how she dreamed it would be.

  She wasn’t experiencing it with Cody Coleman. He wasn’t her boyfriend the way she’d once dreamed, and he wasn’t even her friend. No matter how often she thought of him, she had to be honest with herself.

  Cody was nothing more than a stranger now.

  Four

  ANDI ELLISON KNELT ON HER NARROW dormitory bed and positioned a nail just left of the small boxy window that overlooked a pretty courtyard. The girls across the hall had asked her to come hang out later, but first she wanted to finish setting up her room. With the hammer she’d borrowed from the RA, she tapped the nail into place. She had nearly all her photos hung on the wall, but she’d forgotten this one.

  The picture of her with Rachel Baugher.

  Andi studied their faces as she straightened the framed photograph on the wall. Graduation day. They both wore blue caps and gowns, their grins stretched across their faces, arms around each other’s necks, happier than they’d ever been. Rachel and Andi. Two best friends, all of life laid out before them.

  “We’re really going to do it,” Rachel had shouted that night over t
he noise of a hundred celebrating graduates. “God’s going to help us make all our dreams come true!”

  “It’s going to be a wild ride, Rach … you’ll be a nurse and I’ll be an actress.”

  The two joined their friends for an all-night grad party in the high school gym, and when their energy ran low, they sat in the bleachers and talked about the future, about their hopes and dreams and the kinds of men they wanted to marry someday. With Rachel, Andi could talk about anything at all, because Rachel had a gift of listening that few people had.

  The picture looked great on that part of the wall, and it took Andi back to that night, to the joy and sorrow the girls both felt at graduation. Andi stared at the photo. Rachel was the first friend Andi made when she and her family returned home from the mission field of Indonesia. They shared a passion for life and a faith in God that meant everything to them, and together they pushed each other to a senior year of straight A’s. Rachel was valedictorian, and Andi was runner-up—the two girls an inspiration to their friends at Chestertown Christian Academy.

  Their hard work paid off, and when it came time for college, Andi’s top choice was Indiana University because of their theater department. Rachel was accepted to Pensacola Christian College’s nursing program, and though they wouldn’t be at the same university, they would stay in touch and travel to Europe the first summer they had enough money, and one day they planned to be in each other’s weddings. Rachel was organized and responsible, and as loyal as a friend could be. But she was also a dreamer, a girl who saw the deeper side of life and longed to be the best at whatever she attempted.

  Andi ran her fingers over the image of Rachel’s smiling face, her long brown hair and bright hope-filled eyes. Once in a while Andi would do this, search deeply into her friend’s expression for some sort of sign. But there was none, no indication that in only a few months she would be gone. The car accident was fast, Rachel’s death, instant. And just like that heaven gained one of the most brilliant, unforgettable lights Andi had ever been around.

  Heaven’s gain, and Andi’s loss.

  She smiled at the picture the two of them made on that happy day. “I miss you, Rach … every day.”

  She set the hammer down on her nightstand and stared out the open window into the dark night. Her smile faded. All her life she’d been taught that God was faithful, that He had plans for His people. Good plans. But what about Rachel? She had wanted to be a nurse so badly, she could hardly wait to get through school. So why hadn’t God been faithful to her?

  Andi wasn’t sure what to make of herself when her feelings led her down this path. If God wasn’t faithful to Rachel, then maybe God wasn’t faithful at all. She felt terrible, totally guilty for thinking such a thing, but she couldn’t stop herself. Maybe everything they’d taught the people in Indonesia was only one glorious and great-sounding story. A fairy tale like the kind her daddy used to tell her before bedtime when she was a little girl. She could almost hear her father’s voice telling her the story of God as she’d always believed it. Only instead of the words sounding true and right, the way they did from the pulpit, they sounded silly and sing-song. Like one more bedtime story. The words ran flippantly through her mind. There is a God. He made you and the whole world. Love Him and live for Him, and He’ll rescue you from your sins. Your life will be special because He has good plans for you, and then one day you’ll die and go to heaven.

  “And everyone lived happily ever after,” she muttered against the window screen. Unless you’re sitting in the passenger seat of a friend’s car one sunny August day and you die in a sudden car accident. Or unless you get murdered or sick or lose your job and have to live on the streets. Unless you’re born in Kenya and both your parents die of AIDS before you’re two years old. “What about those people, huh, God?” She lifted her eyes to the sky, but it was too dark to make out any stars, and the moon was nowhere in sight.

  She hated when her thoughts went this way. Her stomach hurt and her heart beat faster than usual. Every breath felt tighter than the one before it. Because this was her very deep, dark secret—the thing no one knew about her.

  Andi Ellison had doubts now. Her perfect faith in God was riddled with subtle cracks and shifts.

  Her elbows pressed harder into the windowsill and she remembered once when she was eight or nine in Indonesia, waiting for a Mission Aviation Fellowship plane to fly in with supplies for the village. She loved the old runway, because it was the most open stretch of land anywhere, and she and the village kids would run along it, racing each other and watching the sky for the first sign of the plane.

  But that day one of the kids discovered a snake on the run-way, and in no time Andi and the others gathered around and watched it, amazed. The snake was shedding its skin. Gradually, it moved and writhed and eased itself free of the old dead skin and moved on into the brush—sleek and beautiful and brand new.

  Andi felt a little like that now, like the faith that had clothed her all these years was dried up and old. Like it didn’t fit anymore. She could almost feel herself making her way free of it, ready to move on with a sleek, new exterior of her own design. The feeling was one more thing she couldn’t tell anyone. She was Andi Ellison, missionary kid, after all. Everyone expected her to be the perfect Christian, the girl with the unwavering faith. No one could’ve guessed how she was really feeling.

  Voices sounded outside and she watched two guys make their way into view and head down the path toward the dorm building. At first Andi couldn’t hear what they were saying, but as they came into view she saw something that still shocked her. The guys were holding hands.

  “You need to tell your dad,” the one on the outside of the path sounded frustrated. His voice was the louder of the two.

  The quieter one said something Andi couldn’t quite understand.

  “It doesn’t matter.” The first one stopped, his tone frustrated. “We love each other, and love is a beautiful thing. People have to get over their old-fashioned views of homosexuality and embrace us the way we are.”

  Another couple—a guy and a girl—were walking in the opposite direction, and the two pairs passed each other just as the one guy made his statement about people getting over their old views. The second couple gave the first a thumbs-up sign and the girl said, “Preach it, brother. Live and let live!”

  Live and let live. That sounded pretty good, right? As long as no one was hurting anyone else? Her sociology teacher had said basically the same thing Friday during class discussion on the signs of a healthy culture. More love than hate—whatever form love happened to take wasn’t important. Just more love than hate. The two couples had stopped and they were talking to each other, laughing and making easy conversation.

  Andi didn’t want to be caught watching them, so she slid back down onto the end of her bed and leaned against the wall. She’d been taught to believe the Bible, and the Bible was clear that homosexuality was wrong. But was it? Was it really so bad for two people of the same sex to love each other? There had to be worse things. Like anger and hatred and racism, right? Murder and the harming of little children?

  She closed her eyes and tried to organize the whirling thoughts in her mind. No one loved God more than Rachel Baugher. If she could be killed without reaching her dreams, then maybe God wasn’t really there at all. And then what would it matter how a person lived, as long as they were treating others with kindness? All around her—on TV and across campus—people were coming out in favor of gay relationships. Not only that, but celebrities rarely got married, choosing to have babies and live together instead. Christians were the only ones who seemed to have a problem with the change in morals, which made people of faith seem old-fashioned and out of style. Worse, it sometimes made Christians seem narrow-minded and judgmental.

  Andi liked guys, but in these first few days of school she’d seen several same-sex couples. In her science class she sat next to a guy named Julian who talked nonstop about his attraction to other guys. Andi eve
n found herself agreeing with him over which guys were hot and which guys weren’t. Julian was kind and funny and interesting. He gave her his cell number and promised to take notes for her when she missed class. He fussed over her pretty hair and was—by far—the nicest person she’d met on campus besides Bailey Flanigan.

  Was he going to hell just because he liked guys?

  She breathed in deep, and the smell of old leaves and fresh-cut grass mixed in with the cool air. Across the hall she heard a group of girls laughing and someone running from one room to another yelling about free pizza. She kept her eyes closed. Dear God, I’m so confused. How can I know what’s real and what’s not? Show me that You’re there, that You care about me … please, God.

  “You praying or sleeping?” The voice was Bailey’s.

  Andi’s eyes flew open and she shot forward, her back suddenly straight, slightly breathless from the surprise. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard Bailey enter the room, and the timing … how weird was that? She asked God for a sign, for proof that He was there, and just at that moment Bailey mentions prayer?

  A chill ran down her arms. She’d have to analyze later whether God was trying to tell her something. Bailey looked sort of funny at her as she tossed her bag on her bed and peeled off her jacket. “Seriously … were you praying?”

  “Uh …” Andi could feel the heat in her cheeks. Could her friend see how great her doubts were becoming? She cleared her voice. “Sort of.” She raised up onto her knees once more and adjusted the picture of Rachel a final time. “Lots on my mind, I guess. Still unpacking the last of my stuff.”

  “More pictures?”

  “Just one.” Andi set the hammer down on her nightstand. She studied the photograph again. “Rachel was my best friend once we came back from Indonesia.”

  Bailey set her bag down on her bed and came closer. “You haven’t talked about her.”