Summer

  “Signal the car . . . and . . . roll it!”

  Katy pulled the sedan into view and parked in the spot closest to the arena. She stepped out, and Dayne could feel her watching him, feel her eyes on him the same as they’d been on him when he showed up at the Bloomington Community Theater closing night a lifetime ago. He slowed his horse and watched her.

  Dayne had been acting in movies half his life. He knew that here and now he should’ve been in character, living life through the eyes of the man he was playing in the movie. A slow recognition needed to take place, then shock and a sad longing that the years could never erase.

  Those emotions were there, every one of them. But his character was forgotten. His eyes locked onto Katy’s, and he squinted. He didn’t have to imagine what it would feel like to be seeing the only woman he’d ever loved for the first time in ages. It was happening.

  Katy walked closer, her gaze never veering from him. She reached the edge of the arena and slipped in through the gate. As she did, he eased himself off the horse. The scene called for tears. Not dramatic weeping or wailing, not even crying. Just watery eyes and a few lone tears on each of their cheeks. Katy took a few steps toward him and stopped. And suddenly she wasn’t standing before him in the middle of a movie set with fifty people watching.

  All in a rush, Katy was standing on a simple stage in Bloomington, congratulating the cast and crew of Charlie Brown, and he was lurking in the back row, knowing that he’d never seen a woman as beautiful and transparent. She was sitting next to him on a bench at Pepperdine University, and he was falling a little more for her with every passing hour. And she was running with him in the pouring rain trying to escape a wicked thunderstorm, and he was talking to her that night in the pitch-dark, telling her about his child and how the baby had been aborted without his say. She was holding his hand and trying not to fall in love with him.

  She was lying beneath a dusty old Christmas tree on the Bloomington stage, shocked as he walked up and helped her to her feet, and she was crying, holding the ring he’d brought for her, and he knew—absolutely knew—that somehow they could work through their very different lives. And she was standing in front of him in the most stunning wedding dress, and he was promising her forever with the ocean breeze in their hair.

  The images flashed in his mind as he dropped the horse’s reins and took slow steps toward her. She did the same, and he could see all the way to her soul. Her expression told him she wasn’t acting either. They were letting the world have its way with them, and both of them were sorry. Dayne’s eyes silently screamed the message, and so did hers.

  No makeup artist ran out with glycerin drops, not for either of them. Because the emotions they were feeling were real and deep and greater than anything they could’ve conjured up in a moment of brilliant acting. As they reached each other, as Dayne took Katy into his arms and held her, he knew this much. They weren’t even halfway through the fire with the reality show, and the tabloids were bound to bring more of the tension that marked the last two weeks. But the feelings here were beyond acting.

  Because the tears on both their cheeks were real.

  Trouble lay around every corner as far as Jenny could see. Marissa and her mother were no longer speaking to each other or to Jenny and Bailey, and Jenny wasn’t sure whether the teenage girl had chosen to keep her baby or not. Katy and Dayne were in a fight for their marriage, and CKT was closing down.

  But somehow, set against the backdrop of summer, all of it felt manageable. If there was a predominant season in heaven, Jenny Flanigan believed it would be summer. The long days and warm nights felt endless no matter how rushed the rest of the year was. With summer came the sense that all of life slowed to smell the deep green grass, to watch fireflies dance on an evening breeze, or to hear the gentle lap of lake water against the sandy shore.

  Summer was barbecues and quiet conversation in the fading light of a nine o’clock sunset. It was cutoffs and flip-flops and afternoons on Lake Monroe. Despite the concerns in Jenny’s heart, the sun soaked into her bones, refreshing her and making her feel close to God.

  All these thoughts filled Jenny’s mind as Jim pulled their boat away from the dock and set out across the lake. Today held no soccer or baseball or football. Cody was with them, and for the next four hours, they would pull the kids around on the inner tube and let the braver ones try water-skiing or wakeboarding. Their boat was equipped with everything they needed, and the sunny sky promised that the fun could last until dusk.

  She stretched her legs out and rubbed her bare feet against Jim’s. “It’s a perfect day.”

  “Makes me glad we’re not moving to Denver or Green Bay.” He grinned at her. “Not that I don’t think about it.”

  Relief filled her heart again. They’d had the big talk earlier this month. The front offices of five NFL teams had asked Jim for interviews. This time it had been Jim’s decision completely. No cajoling or convincing on her part.

  “Bailey will be a senior in the fall,” he’d told her the night he made his decision. “Whether we have CKT or not, she needs to be here.”

  Jenny had felt as though she’d been holding her breath for days leading up to that moment. “Thank you, Jim.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

  “Coaching jobs will always be there.” He had smiled at her. “The kids won’t.”

  And so there was no rush, no need to call a Realtor and put the house on the market. But with CKT leaving town, this was bound to be their last year in Bloomington. Jenny faced the sun and closed her eyes. She was going to enjoy every minute. And maybe—if Jim felt God leading him back into coaching for the pros—a job would open up in Indianapolis and they could still stay.

  She felt a damp hand on her bare shoulder. “Mom, can I go first in the tube?”

  Her eyes opened, and she looked into the earnest face of her youngest, Ricky. “The first three in the boat get the first ride.” She shrugged. “Rules are rules.”

  “But I was last because I ran back to get Dad’s sunglasses.” He wasn’t whining, but he was coming close. “Please, Mom. . . . Please!”

  Connor had been one of the first three in the boat. He was sitting across from Jenny, and at the sight of his brother—his life jacket bunched around his neck—Connor grinned. “Take my spot, buddy. No big deal.” He elbowed Bailey, who was sitting beside him. “I’d rather ride with Bailey. She’s a riot on the tube.”

  Cody was sitting on Bailey’s other side. He looked around her and gave Connor a high five. “Let’s try to dump her!”

  “Great.” Bailey pretended to be put out. “Thanks, guys.”

  Jenny took in the scene, studying the way Bailey’s eyes lit up when she turned toward Cody, how she lowered her chin and laughed more easily than usual. She’d been smart so far, but in the last few weeks Jenny had had a feeling her daughter was falling for Cody again.

  Of course, Cody’s plans were set. He was scheduled to leave for boot camp earlier than before, on July 9, less than two weeks from now. Whatever else the future had in store for Cody and Bailey, it most certainly held heartache.

  Last night Jenny had been working on a magazine article when Bailey found her.

  “I’m worried.” She took the chair next to Jenny’s. Her eyes were shadowed with a fear that was uncommon for her. Bailey had always been a little more serious than Connor. But usually that seriousness presented itself in maturity and determination, not fear.

  Jenny pushed back from her keyboard and studied her. “What about?”

  “Cody.” She bit her lip. “He told me he could be in Iraq before the end of the year.”

  “That’s true.” Jenny and Jim had talked about the possibility. The president was sending more troops, trying to finish the job. Cody was bound to see action soon.

  Bailey folded her hands. For a moment she seemed too overcome to speak. Then she swallowed hard and looked at Jenny. “That last soldier? The one who di
ed when the roadside bomb exploded? He was only two years older than me, Mom. I checked my yearbook, and we were in leadership the same semester.”

  “It’s close to home.” Jenny put her hand on Bailey’s knee. “Have you heard how the other guy from Clear Creek’s doing? The one who lost his leg?”

  “He came by school the other day and talked to the coaches.” She shrugged. “I guess he’s going to Indiana University to be a teacher.” She narrowed her eyes. “He told Dad he doesn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him. He made the decision to fight for the United States, and he took the risk. Now he’ll make the best of it.”

  Jenny was quiet for a moment. “That’s the way Cody feels too.”

  “I know.” Bailey’s smile was soaked in sorrow. “It’s just . . . every time I picture him in an army uniform, I see him fighting some battle I’m not sure he can win. It keeps me up at night.”

  “I heard something once.” Jenny stroked her daughter’s light brown hair. “Whenever you can’t sleep, it’s God’s way of telling you to pray. That there’s someone who needs your prayers.”

  Bailey nodded slowly. “I like that.”

  “So when you’re worried about Cody and you can’t sleep, use that time to pray for him.” Jenny wanted to probe deeper, ask Bailey if her feelings for Cody had gotten stronger. But she wanted Bailey to take the lead.

  Instead Bailey stood, and an anxious sigh filtered past her lips. “I’ll still be worried. Until I get the call that he’s home safe.”

  “That could take years.”

  “I know.” Her eyes danced. “We’re going to write to each other.”

  Jenny raised one eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Just as friends.” Bailey’s answer had been quick. “He said it’ll make him feel like he’s back home. Even for just a few minutes.”

  Jenny blinked, and thoughts of that conversation faded.

  Jim stopped the boat and directed Connor to make sure the knot was tight on the tube, the rope secure off the back hitch.

  Jenny raised the orange flag, alerting other boaters that they had swimmers in the water. “Okay . . . you can jump!”

  It was Flanigan tradition that whenever they boated, if Jim stopped the boat and cut the engine, the kids would jump off the sides and cool off. Justin and Shawn started a splashing match, and the others joined in. But after a few minutes they all scrambled back into the boat except Ricky, BJ, and Justin—the three with first-ride honors in the tube.

  As the last of the kids were pulling themselves onto the swim board and back into the boat, Jenny caught something that didn’t surprise or alarm her. Cody was at the back of the boat helping Connor out of the water and then Bailey. But as Bailey climbed onto the swim board, she held on to Cody’s hand a little longer than necessary.

  Jenny felt an ache in her heart. Today might feel endless and carefree—while they still had all afternoon to enjoy the water. But not too far down the road they would all say good-bye to the young man who had become part of their family. His leaving would be hard on all of them, but for Bailey, it would be one of her greatest losses ever.

  They could only pray that the good-bye would be temporary and that when the soldiers finally came home from Iraq, Cody would be one of them.

  Bailey didn’t want to catch her parents’ attention, but the feeling of Cody’s hand in hers sent heat and shivers through her like nothing ever had. He helped her back into the boat, and then—almost as if he didn’t want to—he released her fingers. But their eyes stayed connected.

  The truth—the thing she hadn’t wanted to admit even to herself—was that she’d fallen for Cody. Even though she didn’t want a boyfriend, and even when she’d been convinced by the actions of her friends that relationships at her age too often led only to heartache, she’d still fallen for him.

  Bailey grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her waist. She sat next to her mom, across from Cody. He was talking to Connor, but she couldn’t help but catch a glance or two of him. Since he’d stopped drinking, he’d put in a lot more time in their home gym, and it showed. He looked healthy, strong, and tanned, and Bailey remembered all the reasons she’d had a crush on him back when she was just a freshman.

  Lately they’d gone on bike rides through the neighborhood and taken long walks down to the frog pond at the end of the street. Sometimes her brothers would tag along, but that was okay. She and Cody weren’t admitting anything to each other. They’d never even held hands until today, and that was really only so he could help her into the boat.

  She was still talking to Tim Reed, but the only thing on his mind was college and where he’d been accepted and how he’d have to make a decision about which school he’d attend come fall. Bailey could feel him pulling away, accepting the fact—the way they’d all had to accept it—that CKT was closing down. The members of the group were bound to go their own ways.

  Twice since the For Sale sign went up in front of the theater, she and Tim had held meetings with some of the longtime CKT kids and a few of their parents, trying to think of a way to keep the drama group going. But no one had any answers. Bethany Allen, the CKT coordinator, truly had checked everywhere. No place but the community theater could house their plays three times a year, and the theater was going to be torn down for condominiums.

  An article had run in the paper last week stating that there was a bidding war going on for the building. From all accounts, city officials expected the theater to be sold by the end of summer, with building plans going into effect some six or eight months later. Bailey had already cried buckets of tears over the loss, but now the battle and every wonderful thing about CKT seemed like something from her past.

  She caught Cody’s eye and grinned. Then she looked out at the water. They’d talked about Cody’s dream of going to college after he served in the army and his hope to one day settle down in Bloomington.

  “Maybe I’ll coach like your dad,” he’d told her.

  Sometimes Bailey thought he wanted to say something else, something more. Like maybe that she was part of his future plans too. He could come back from fighting the war and get his teaching degree, and the two of them would get married. It was possible—if God allowed it.

  But those were the thoughts she didn’t tell anyone, not even her mother.

  “Okay—” her dad looked over his shoulder at her brothers in the tube behind the boat—“ready?”

  All three of them gave the thumbs-up sign. “Ready!”

  Her father gave the boat a burst of gas and began doing big S-turns. This part of the lake was empty, so he could take wider turns than usual, pulling the tube over his wake and then cutting into smooth water again. The boys laughed and barely held on, and on one of the turns, Bailey’s feet touched Cody’s.

  He smiled at her, but he shifted and created space between them.

  Bailey was glad. His actions were different from what they’d been with other girls in his life. Even if he didn’t feel the same way about her as she was starting to feel about him, he respected her. And that made her feel beyond special.

  She and Cody and Connor took the next ride, and her dad kicked his speed up a notch. She sat in the middle, so when the tube hit a high part of the wake, instead of bouncing her out of the tube, the jolt bounced out both Cody and Connor. The three of them laughed so hard they could barely breathe.

  The day felt as though it would never end. Cody wakeboarded, something they’d seen him do before. But he was stronger now, and when he jumped the wake, he grabbed the board and spun it before landing on the water again.

  The boys gathered at the back of the boat, hollering their approval and shouting for more.

  Bailey smiled at her mother. “He’s good.”

  “Very good.” Something in her eyes said that she understood what Bailey was feeling, and that she was okay with it on this level. Dreams were free, and they were part of what summer was about.

  When the sun started to set, her father brought the boat to shore. They all
helped dry down the hull, and then her dad pulled the fishing poles from the back of his SUV. “Nothing like a little night fishing.” He smiled and handed a pole to each of the boys.

  When he came to Bailey, she shook her head. “Cody and I are taking a walk.” She gave Cody a crooked smile and nudged him with her elbow. “Right?”

  Cody gave her dad an innocent look. “Uh, right. . . . I guess we’re taking a walk.”

  Her mother was loading the wet towels in the back of their Suburban, and now she came up and stood by Dad. “What’s happening?”

  “Bailey and Cody are taking a walk.” He gave a look that said he didn’t mind.

  “Don’t be long.” Her mom’s voice was pleasant. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

  Bailey shouted at her brothers, “Catch a big one!” as she and Cody walked toward the trail that wound around the lake.

  They were well out of earshot of her family when Cody laughed. “At least give me a warning.”

  “What?” She loved the way she felt, fresh from a day in the sun, only a few boats still churning up the nearby lake. A giggle tickled her throat. “They know we’re friends, Cody. It’s not like it’s a secret.”

  “True.” He sounded doubtful. “It’s just . . . they don’t want anything . . . you know . . .”

  “What could happen?” She turned and took a few steps backward. “You’re leaving.” She spread out her arms and ran a few yards in front of him. “Not like you’ll fall in love with me in ten days.”

  “Bailey . . .” He stopped, his head cocked. His tone told her he didn’t know what to make of this . . . whatever she was doing.

  She faced him again, laughing harder than before. “What?”

  “Come back here.”

  “No.” She turned and ran a few more steps. “Catch me!”

  At first she heard him groan, but then he muttered something about how she’d be sorry and took off in her direction.

  She ran as fast as she could, loving the chase, breathing the warm wind in her face and the smell of grass and moss and damp earth. He was closing in on her, of course. He was much faster than her, and after another five yards, she felt both his hands on her waist—but only for a second.