Learning

Four


BY MID-MAY BAILEY’S LIFE WAS A BLUR OF REHEARSALS AND workouts and conversations with Francesca Tilly. She was learning her part, but Francesca still wanted more from her, sharper movements, better expressions. There were days she wasn’t sure she was ready for opening night. At the end of each day, when she finally had a single spare moment, she would skype alone in her room with her family, and once in a while with Brandon Paul. Some nights she even had time for Facebook. It was a fun outlet, a way to keep in touch with the high school girls who had befriended her because of her role in the movie Unlocked.

They wanted to know how she had lived out her faith on the set and whether she’d played a part in Brandon Paul’s decision to become a Christian. They asked for advice about guys and their friends, parents, and siblings. Bailey felt herself drawn to respond to them every night before she turned in. She’d give them Bible verses and ideas about standing strong for God and for purity. “And always tell your mom everything.” She’d written that to more girls than she could remember.

Most of them knew Bailey had been cast in Hairspray. So on the Monday before her opening night, she signed onto Facebook and updated her status to read: Tomorrow night my dream of performing on Broadway will become a reality. I miss my family like crazy, but I love everything about my time in New York so far. I’m not sure I’m ready … but I can’t believe God would let me get to this point! Thanks for praying for me! Here’s a verse I read earlier today: “Commit your plans to the Lord, and they will succeed.” Proverbs 16:3. XOXO.

She hit the share button, and the update went live. Already she had a couple thousand friends … and that had to be mostly word of mouth, because she’d stayed out of the newspapers and magazines. Before she signed off, she did the one thing she knew she shouldn’t do. In the search line she typed the name Cody Coleman. He’d started a Facebook page a few weeks ago — something Connor had told her about. Bailey hadn’t asked him to be her friend, and he hadn’t asked her. But neither of them really needed to be official Facebook friends. Their pages were open to public viewing.

A quick scan of Cody’s page told her nothing had changed. No new updates since two days ago when he wrote only, “Don’t underestimate the Lyle Buckaroos. This team has more heart than any group of football players in the state of Indiana.”

From what Bailey could tell, Cody had started the page to update his players about Lyle football. The only girls he was friends with — yes, Bailey had looked — was Tara, who’d been with him in the hospital after Cheyenne’s accident, and Andi Ellison, who was also Bailey’s friend.

And, of course, Cheyenne.

Every week Cody updated his Facebook with information about her progress. She had survived the accident with no brain damage, and now she was healing from her broken bones, and learning to walk again. So far Cody had posted no photos of her, and his info page still showed his relationship status as single. Bailey thought that was strange. Clearly they were dating. No, they were more than dating. They were becoming the sort of close that could only happen through tragedy. Cody was everything to Cheyenne … though Bailey couldn’t see her page. Her information was private. But if she could, it wasn’t hard to imagine the pictures. Cody and Cheyenne in the rehab clinic, him helping her stretch her leg muscles, Cody walking beside her down the hallway, the two of them sharing dinner together.

Bailey signed off and, as she did, she heard the sound of someone getting onto Skype. In a hurry she opened the Skype program and saw that it was Brandon Paul. Brandon was her friend on Facebook and on Skype … but he went by the name His Only … a tribute to the way he felt about Jesus, and the only possibility he might have of flying under the radar when it came to social media.

She hit the small green telephone icon at the top of the Skype box, and then just as quickly, she clicked the video button. Instantly she could see herself in a small box on her screen. He answered on the first ring, and just like that, they were looking at each other. Brandon, his face life-size in the full screen, and in the far left corner a tiny box that showed how she looked to him on the other end.

“Hi …”

“Hi.” His voice was soft, his eyes dancing. “How many nights in a row is this?”

She giggled. “I haven’t counted.”

“I have.” He was sitting in his office chair and he leaned back, a grin spread across his face. “This is our sixteenth night.”

“I love it.” Bailey let herself get lost in his eyes. Skype was crazy that way … it was a computer screen, yes. But because the image was life-size and because they could talk in real time to each other, skyping was more like talking to someone through a window. Only maybe better. Because their faces were so close, their eyes so connected. “How was your day?”

“Better now.” He angled his head. “I miss you. Really bad.”

“I miss you too.” It was true. These past few weeks skyping together had brought them closer. “I look forward to this.” She felt her smile drop off. “Especially lately.”

“You better.” He chuckled and then seemed to realize the change in her mood. “Why especially lately?”

Bailey hesitated, not sure how much she should say. She didn’t want his pity … but she could definitely use his prayers. “I don’t know … I might not be ready. A couple of the ensemble girls sort of hinted that maybe the part was given to me.” She hesitated. “You know, because of my part in Unlocked.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Brandon’s eyes flashed. “You trained hard for that part.” He raked his fingers through his hair and jerked back in his seat. “Remember the director? She said you were the strongest dancer that day.”

“Yeah … but since then she’s been hard on me. And I deserve it.” She hadn’t admitted this to anyone except her mom. “The dancers here are so good.”

“They’ve been on the show for months. Of course they’re good. After the first show, you’ll be fine.” Brandon’s expression eased and he smiled. “Now … about the way I miss you …”

Her worries left and a lighthearted laugh came easily across her lips. “You have a one-track mind.”

“True.” He leaned close. For a second he brought his face so close that only his eyeball filled the screen. Then he leaned back and laughed once more. “I sit here all day … waiting and watching … wondering when you’ll finally find the time to go home and get on your computer.”

“Oh, right.” Her laughter filled her room, and her heart felt light at the sound. “That’s you, Brandon. So bored … nothing to do but sit around waiting for me to get on Skype.”

“Well … that and my movie.”

“How’s it going?” He was doing an emotional film about a father and a son, set in the world of NASCAR. The movie was called Chasing Sunsets, and it was based on a bestselling novel that was still one of the hottest books on the New York Times list.

“Let’s put it this way … at some point earlier this afternoon, I was flying around a race track at nearly two-hundred miles an hour.”

“What?” She leaned forward, as surprised as she was concerned. “Are you serious? That’s too fast … I mean, you were a passenger, right?”

“Yes … But next week I’ll drive.”

“At two-hundred miles an hour?”

“Maybe.” He laughed again. “Okay, maybe half that.”

“Hmmm.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about him racing as part of his moviemaking. “Shouldn’t you have a stunt double?”

“And miss all the fun?” His eyes sparkled with the challenge. “Come on, Bailey … You should know me better than that.”

“So …” she relaxed a little. He would be fine … no one would let him get hurt. “What was it like … in a car that fast?”

“It’s the weirdest thing …” A sense of adventure shone in his eyes. “At first it’s like you can’t believe you’re going that fast. But at a certain speed — I don’t know, maybe a hundred and eighty or so — everything starts to feel like it’s in slow motion. The edges are blurred, and the only thing you can really make out is the track ahead of you.”

Bailey imagined herself in a car moving that fast. “Sounds crazy.”

“It is.” The familiar flirting returned to his expression. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“Even though the director told me to think about how the car might handle, which groove to be in, and whether I’d sling-shot the car ahead of me …” He nodded a few times, his eyes sparkling. “And even though I did that for the first two laps … by the third time around the track, you know what I was thinking?”

“How soon you could get out of there?”

“No.” He moved closer to the screen, his expression locked on hers. His eyes had never looked more sincere. “I was thinking about you.”

“Brandon, …” She laughed a little, but she didn’t look away. He had this effect on her more often lately, making her dizzy, filling her senses with his presence even when he was three-thousand miles away. The teasing in her tone kept the conversation fun. “Come on … be serious.”

“I am.” He tossed his hands in the air and gave her his best helpless expression. “I can only imagine if I were behind the wheel. They’d radio me to pit and I’d just keep driving … around and around and around. Thinking about Bailey Flanigan.”

For the slightest instant she felt a whisper of fear. From the time she met Brandon, she hadn’t expected anything to come of their friendship. He was so different from her, his visibility and the life he lived. If she let herself fall for him, at some point she’d have to deal with the big questions: Where would they live? How would she tolerate the public eye? What parts of his past would she need to know about? Questions she wasn’t ready to consider. But she would have to deal with them at some point. Because at the rate they were going, she wasn’t sure she could stop herself from falling for him.

“What are you thinking?” This was another difference with having a video conversation on Skype. In a phone call, a person could hide in the little silences between conversation points. But here … face to face … emotional depth was harder to miss.

She smiled. “You know me too well.”

“I try.” He settled back in his chair again, studying her. “Have I told you how much I miss you?”

“Once or twice.” She picked up a pen and paper and doodled a picture of the Hairspray marquee. “Well, … I better get some sleep.”

“Me too.” He gave her a look of mock seriousness. “I’ve never been so tired.”

She laughed out loud. “You always do that … you make me laugh whenever you want.”

“Not whenever I want.” His voice softened. “Otherwise I’d make you laugh in the morning and at lunchtime and at night … and we’d never have to rely on Skype again.”

The thought sounded wonderful. The last time she and Brandon were together — at her house when she was packing her things for New York — she’d enjoyed every minute. “With your life, we’d probably spend more time on Skype than together.”

He opened his mouth, mock indignation flashing in his expression. “Hardly.”

“Oh, yeah,” she giggled at him, at the way he was always such an actor. “Your movie shoots take you all over the world.”

“Yes, but …” His look was still overly dramatic. “You’re forgetting something.”

“What’s that?” She was closer to the screen now, her eyes melting into his.

“Every movie I make … from this point on … is going to star you and me together.” He shrugged, as if the matter had already been decided. “We’re too good a team. I’ve already decided. Of course … when you open tomorrow you’ll take Broadway by storm, and then I may have to figure a way to sweeten the deal. You know, to convince you.”

“You’re crazy, Brandon.” Again she laughed. “Okay … seriously. I really have to go.”

“Okay. I’ll be thinking about you tomorrow night.” He gave her a sweetly stern look. “Don’t be down on yourself. You’ll do great. And I’ll be praying for you.”

“Thanks.”

He held his arms out in a circle. “This is me hugging you.”

She laughed and tried to keep a straight face as she did the same thing. “This is awkward … but here’s me doing the same thing.”

His fingers came close to the screen until they took up most of it. “And this is me touching your heart.” This time he wasn’t kidding.

His eyes made her feel breathless, not sure what she was supposed to say or where they were taking this. But she did the only thing she could do. She brought her fingers to the top of the screen where the camera was located and she saw in the small box at the bottom of her screen that the effect was the same for him as when he’d done it for her. “There. That’s me touching yours.”

“You didn’t need to do that, Bailey.” His smile mesmerized her … and again she had to work to keep from being swept away.

“Why?”

“Because … you already touch my heart. Every hour … every day. Without Skype or texting or even saying a single word.”

She tilted her head, her smile reaching all the way through her. “Goodnight, Brandon.”

“Goodnight.”

She hated ending a Skype conversation with Brandon, hated watching his image disappear from the screen. But she had no choice. She needed her sleep. Tomorrow she had a run-through early in the day, and then a quick lunch break, and after dinner she would perform her part in Hairspray for the first time.

As the computer screen went black, Bailey slid her chair over and looked through her Bible on her desktop. She had been reading Philippians lately, and tonight she was on chapter four. But as she found her place, something else caught her attention. She looked up and her eyes fell on the photo of her and Cody, the only one of the two of them that she had put up in her new room. The one they had taken after a long walk last summer.

Everything about her face, her look, shouted that she was in love. Her eyes danced and his spoke volumes about how much he cared for her. How he would always care. Next to the photo was the Winnie the Pooh, and the other half of the sunglasses — the pair Cody had broken at the Lake Monroe beach last Fourth of July. Maybe it was time to take the picture down. She hadn’t heard from him at all, which meant that no matter how difficult that meeting at the hospital had been for him, he had moved on. If he thought about her, he would text or call. Something.

She reached toward the picture to take it down or turn it around … anything but seeing Cody’s face stare at her while she tried to read her Bible. Anger stiffened the edges of her soul and she bit the inside of her lip. How could he care so little about her? Even tonight … when he had to know she was having her first performance sometime soon. He wasn’t a nice guy … that was all she could figure. She’d been wrong about him all along.

But just as she was about to grab the photo and fling it across the room or at least toss it under her bed, she hesitated. He was part of her past. The picture was no different than the ones of her family and her kitty, Gus … no different than the one of Andi Ellison and her, or the photo of Tim Reed from their time in Scrooge a few winters back. Just an old friend who made up a piece of her past.

Nothing more.

Fine. She would leave the picture up. But still as she turned her attention to the Scriptures she felt the bitterness of his rejection, the hurt of his betrayal. He had promised he’d be her friend always, but now … now he didn’t act like she was alive.

A long sigh rattled up from her chest, and she focused on the words before her. They were both familiar and comforting: Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all, the Lord is near.

Bailey stopped. Always when she had read this section of Philippians, she had felt reassured by that last line. Be gentle because God was close by. It made her realize that as a believer, she would never be alone — no matter how difficult life became. But here … for the first time, the words screamed an entirely different message.

What are you trying to tell me, Lord … that I need to be more gentle?

There was no response, but Bailey tried to imagine how her heart and soul must’ve looked a minute ago when she was thinking the most angry thoughts at Cody Coleman. God didn’t want her to be angry … He wanted her to be gentle. In this moment, that was the message of Philippians 4:5, Bailey was absolutely certain. And the only way to be gentle was to forgive him.

She closed her Bible and stared at the picture of Cody again. Tears stung at her eyes, but she blinked them away. Suddenly her anger and inability to forgive him felt like a mountain resting on her chest … making it hard to feel gentle about anything. Amazing that after a fun Skype date with Brandon she could still feel so upset by Cody.

Dear Lord, I don’t want to hold anything against him … but I can feel it in my heart … I’m still so mad. So hurt.

Then some of her anger melted away.

Let your gentleness be evident to all, daughter … I am with you always.

God was speaking to her, she had no doubt. He was using the Bible — the way He often did when she prayed — making His will known to her by bringing a verse to mind. The realization was sobering. She couldn’t hold a grudge against Cody and be gentle at the same time.

Bailey drew a slow breath and relaxed a little as she exhaled. If she was going to deal with her anger toward Cody she would have to start somewhere. Maybe if he were out of sight, she wouldn’t think about him. The way he clearly didn’t think about her. This time, without second-guessing herself, she did the only thing she could do.

She took Cody’s photo and dropped to her knees. Then she gently sent it sliding beneath her pretty bed, all the way up against the opposite floorboard. That way she wouldn’t have to look at his face again.

Even if she wanted to.


CODY HAD STARTED HIS FACEBOOK PAGE for two reasons: to update the kids at Lyle High about the football program … and to keep them posted on Cheyenne’s progress. Cody sat in his bed, his legs stretched out, his laptop open. Facebook also gave him a chance to keep up on his players, all of whom were his friends on the social media site now.

He clicked to Arnie Hurley’s page. Arnie was a senior, the starting quarterback. But his profile picture looked like something from a honeymoon album. He and his girlfriend, arms around each other, the two of them locked in a significant kiss — the sort of kiss that could lead any guy to places he didn’t really want to go. “Nice,” Cody muttered, frustrated. He’d have to have a talk with Arnie. Rumor was the kid was sneaking into his girlfriend’s room every other night. Cody hadn’t believed that until now.

Cody clicked out of Arnie’s profile and opened the one belonging to Marcos Brown. His most recent status update said only: “Working on the farm. Again.” Marcos lived with his cousin’s family on a farm at the outskirts of town. Three years ago, his mother died of the flu, and his father was a lifer at the state penitentiary, convicted of killing his boss in an argument over a pay raise, according to the school principal, Ms. Baker.

As it turned out, the boy’s uncle demanded hard work and lots of it — and he didn’t believe much in sports. The man also thought doing homework was a sign of weakness, which meant Marcos was pulling an F in two classes and a D in another. If he didn’t pick up his grades, he wouldn’t be able to play next year — and he was easily their biggest lineman. Cody made a mental note to talk to Marcos tomorrow.

He checked a few other players’ pages and caught what looked like beer in the background of a couple photos. The more Cody looked through the profiles of his players, the more he became convinced he needed a meeting. He wasn’t taking a group of noncommitted kids into football summer camp this year. Not when so much was riding on the coming season. The whole town expected them to fail. If Coach Oliver couldn’t do anything with the Lyle Buckaroos — then Cody couldn’t possibly be better. He was too young. That was the mind-set.

“You’ve heard of a rebuilding year,” one of the old men told him after practice last week. “Well, we’re looking for this to be a five-year rebuilding project.” He gave Cody a sharp but friendly slap in the shoulder. “It’ll take that long for you to look a day older than them boys out there on the field.”

Cody was aware of the doubts around Lyle. He could live with that. What he couldn’t live with — absolutely not — was standing by and watching his players throw away their chances. Whether for a girl or for grades or because they’d gotten sucked into the same partying that had nearly destroyed Cody. He wasn’t there just to teach them how to win football games. It was his job to teach them about life. The way his coach, Jim Flanigan, had taught him.

He was about to turn in when he saw that Cheyenne had posted something a few minutes ago. She was doing so much better than any of them had expected. Her situation was very serious for a few weeks after the accident. But once she began talking, it became evident that her personality was intact, her ability to reason and remember and feel — exactly as it had been before her injuries. But her physical body had been a mess of broken bones and nerve damage.

After two weeks in the hospital, she’d been moved to an inpatient rehab facility in Indianapolis, where Cody stopped in to see her at least once a day. She was making tremendous strides — and once already he’d visited with a group of his players. They all knew about the accident, since it had happened during practice. Cody felt it important to keep them up on her recovery. Especially since he and the team had been praying for her every day.

He clicked her name and went to her Facebook page. Her status read: Thank You, God, for Cody … he’s been there for me every step along the way. Literally … I couldn’t have done this without him.

A smile tugged on his lips and he looked for a long time at her picture. It was a snapshot of Cheyenne and Kassie — the little girl Chey had visited so often, who had died of leukemia. The girl’s loss was still hard for Cheyenne, and the photo was a way of keeping her memory alive. But tonight Cody couldn’t take his eyes off Cheyenne, the love in her eyes, the peace on her face. She was a very special person, and no matter what happened between them in the months to come, Cody definitely had feelings for her.

Cody clicked the like button on Chey’s status and then went to his own: Football meeting tomorrow after school … Oh, and Cheyenne is walking twice as fast now as she did when she arrived at the rehab center. Keep praying!

He was about to sign off, when he went to Bailey’s page. His eyes scanned her update, and he felt himself grow utterly still. Tomorrow night she would begin her role in Hairspray … her first night on Broadway. Bailey was working for her dreams, realizing them. A hundred people had commented beneath her update, congratulating her and promising to pray. But what about him? Had he let her know he was proud of her or that he cared about this milestone in her life? No … he’d done nothing at all. Nothing kind, no brief conversation where he might tell her how happy he really was for her. He was right about his decision to let Bailey go. He couldn’t be her friend, couldn’t stand by while she moved onto a life without him, while she dated Brandon Paul. But alone in his room he realized again how his actions must’ve looked to her. Almost like that of an enemy. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Because his silence would always say more than his words ever could.