Leaving

Leaving - By Karen Kingsbury


DEDICATION


To Donald, my Prince Charming …

I love that for now we can still see spring as the end of a school year. Summer lies ahead of us, and everything wonderful about the changing seasons is upon us. You and the boys are ready for the off-season, ready to work hard at football camp and dream about the fall ahead. The kids are itching for summer vacation, but here’s the thing: We only have so many school years left, only so many years when summer vacation actually applies to our family. And how can that be, when just yesterday we were bringing Kelsey home? I remember the nurse asking if we knew how to buckle her seat belt into the backseat, and you and I looked at each other. It was sort of a “Yikes! Here we go!” look, because where was the manual? The Bible … that was the only manual then, and it’s the only one now. God walked us through the baby stage and the walking stage, He walked us through the off-to-school stage and now, somehow, He’ll walk us through the years of letting go. The quiet days lie ahead, but for now, my love, hold my hand and let’s run the journey together. You and our boys, making memories together. Isn’t this what we always dreamed of? I love sitting back this time and letting you and God figure it out. Hard to believe that, as you read this, our twenty-third anniversary is almost upon us. I look at you and still see the blond, blue-eyed guy who would ride his bike to my house and read the Bible with me before a movie date. You stuck with me back then and you stand by me now—when I need you more than ever. I love you, my husband, my best friend, my Prince Charming. Stay with me, by my side, and let’s watch our children take wing. Always and always … the ride is breathtakingly beautiful. I pray it lasts far into our twilight years. Until then I’ll enjoy not always knowing where I end and you begin. I love you always and forever.


To Kelsey, my precious daughter …

How is it possible that you are twenty-one, my precious little girl? I still see you dancing in circles around your daddy, and carefully applying lipstick from a purse you got for Christmas when you were four. I remember listening to songs about letting kids grow up and watching them leave home and thinking, “Dear God, I’ll never make it …” But there was some comfort back then, because your childhood spread before us like one long endless summer of laughter and loving and days that seemed like they’d last forever. But this fall every line of every leaving song will come rushing back as we take you to college in Southern California. Sometimes when I think about the season ahead I struggle to draw a full breath. These times will redefine for me what missing someone really means. But you, sweet girl, were created to perform for Jesus. All through your childhood you would find a stage and hold your chin high, and you’d sing to whoever was listening. Well, sweetheart, more people are listening now. I’m so proud of you and all you’ve become … all you stand for. Every prayer we prayed for you, God has answered. You have stood firm, holding tight to God’s truth and His promises, and I know the answers will become more clear with each passing year. Remember that God walks every step of this life with us, and for those who love Him, the best is always yet to be. This fall we will watch you take wing, having worked hard to reach this point in your education. We believe in you, sweetheart, and we will be cheering for you every day. No matter where this year takes you, you’ll never really leave our family. You’ll always be our little girl, Kelsey. And you’ll always be part of this family. Forever and ever. I’m so proud of the strength you’ve found. You are beautiful inside and out, and I am more convinced than ever that God has great, wonderful plans for you. Take your talents and go find your platform for Him! In the meantime you’ll be in my heart every moment. And we’ll leave the porch light on. I love you, sweetheart.


To Tyler, my lasting song …

My heart skips a beat when I think about you being a senior this year. I have thought about this time even as far back as you’ve been a part of our lives, and always it seemed so far away. Even last year, I couldn’t really imagine you as a senior. But here we are, right? Graduation is just ten weeks away. This is where the Ferris wheel slows down; this is where you get off and make your way down the path, following God to the next season in your life. But here’s the amazing part: We will always have a front-row seat! You have a single on the radio now. “Just Beyond the Clouds” is a favorite for many people, and there will be more to come. God is working, Ty, and the dreams you’ve had for the past couple years are coming true. I know God has a future in music for you, because I’ve seen your passion in singing and writing for Him. I love how the music is in you, Ty, and how you seem complete when you are caught up in the process of creating. I sometimes think about your Papa, and how proud he would be to watch the young man you’ve become. I still see him there in his favorite chair, the one by the fireplace, closest to the piano. He couldn’t listen to you play and sing without getting tears in his eyes, and I can’t either. So even though I’m sad your senior year is almost over, I’m excited too. Because this is the time of your life you’ve been waiting for. The world is your stage, Ty! Go stop the world for Jesus, and let your very bright light touch the lives of everyone who needs it. Thank you for the hours of joy you bring our family, and as you head into a year of lasts, I promise to stop and listen a little longer when I hear you singing. Your dad and I are proud of you, Ty. We’re proud of your talent and your compassion for people and your place in our family. However your dreams unfold, we’ll be in the front row to watch them happen. Hold on to Jesus, son. I love you.


To Sean, my happy sunshine …

Some years don’t turn out like we planned, and this year that was all too true for you, sweet Sean. A blown out knee the third game of the football season, which led to surgery and a time of healing and rehab. You never let me see you down, never complained. But my heart broke at the pain you went through … and how you had to miss out on basketball season because your injury was that bad. But here’s what God has taught me through this. Sometimes His greatest gift happens in the healing — when we are quiet enough to hear Him, quiet enough to listen to His leading. I have watched you spend hours shooting free throws, hours dribbling the basketball, and playing the drums so that when the school gathers for worship every Monday, you’re keeping the beat. Who would have thought so much good could’ve come from something so painful? But then, isn’t that the lesson of the cross? Jesus loves you, Sean. Even more than we do. He promises that with Him, all things work to the good. And somewhere down the road I believe you’ll look back at this time and see it as a turning point. A time when God was very close to you, indeed. You still need to remind yourself of the truth. You can do everything through Christ who gives you strength. And you can, Sean. You proved that this year by suffering adversity and, in His strength, rising to the challenge. You remain a bright sunbeam, bringing warmth to everyone around you. And now you are an example of an all-star faith as well. I’m proud of you, Sean. I love you so much. I pray God will use your dependence on Him to always make a difference in the lives around you. You’re a precious gift, son. Keep smiling and keep seeking God’s best for your life.


To Josh, my tenderhearted perfectionist …

You continue to amaze the opposition whatever sport you play, and for that I will always be proud of you, Josh. You train and play and lead with your whole heart. I don’t know which records will fall or how many people will one day know of your feats on the field, but I do know this: It’s so much more important that you have grown just as much in your faith. When God gives us talents, we must always remember where they come from. Who they come from. You have done this, dear son, and now you are ready to take on the world. Well, maybe not quite yet. But you’re ready to take on the off-season, and give God the glory along the way. I remember when we first got word that your birthmother in Haiti had survived the terrible earthquake, after all. You only smiled and nodded. “I know,” you said. “You do?” I was confused. None of us had known how she had fared for months after the quake. “I know she’s okay—either way. In heaven or here. Because I prayed for her.” Yes, Josh, you may laugh a lot and tease a lot, but we know your heart, and we are so proud of what we see. We have no doubt that someday we’ll see your name in headlines and that — if God allows it — you’ll play sports for a college team. You’re that good, and everyone around you says so. Now flashback 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. You reached up with your small fingers, brushed back my bangs, and said, “Hi, Mommy. I love you.” It might’ve taken six months of paperwork, but I knew as I heard 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. You have an unlimited future, son, and I’ll forever be cheering on the sidelines. Keep God first in your life. I love you always.


To EJ, my chosen one …

EJ, my jokester, you are finishing your first year in high school! I can’t believe how fast time has flown for you and for us. The journey started a decade ago when we saw one little face on an internet photolisting of kids up for adoption. That face was yours, but the blessing of the journey has been ours. God has brought you so far, EJ, and now you stand on the brink of becoming everything He has planned for you to become. At our Christian school you have found friends, and a deeper faith and a fire for pursuing the talents God has given you. All the things we have prayed for you! As you start high school, you are one of our top students, and we couldn’t be more proud of you, EJ. 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 …

Seventh grade, and already you look like a tenth grader! I remember this past year when you would walk up to me on your tiptoes and look me in the eyes. “It happened, Mom! I’m taller than you!” You’d celebrate a little only to realize that I was in bare feet and you were in tennis shoes. “Not quite,” I’d tell you. “You’re still shorter than me.” But now that is no longer true. You don’t walk up on your tiptoes anymore because you don’t have to. God has graced you with tremendous size and strength, Austin. I look at you and I see a young Timmy Tebow, a kid with an ocean of determination and leadership ability, a young man who is the first to thank his coach, the first to shake the hand of the ref, and the last one to leave the classroom because you’re so busy cleaning up and expressing your gratitude to your teacher. Sure you still struggle in a few areas, and sometimes your competitive drive can get you in trouble with your brothers. But truly, Austin, there isn’t a thing you can’t do as long as you keep God first. I believe you have the chance to go all the way with your dream of playing sports, and I’m grateful to have a front row seat. Play hard, don’t ever give up, and always remember where you came from. I know I do. I remember that hospital room when you were three weeks old and the surgeon was giving us a few minutes to say goodbye. Not every infant who goes in for emergency heart surgery comes back out again. But even then, through our tears, we were certain we’d see you somewhere — here or there. The fact that God has blessed us with the here and now is proof that He has amazing plans for you. How great that you are seizing them with everything inside you, with every breath. Keep on, precious son. We are here for you, praying for you, cheering for you. No one believes in you more than we do. 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.




One


GOODBYES WERE ONE OF THE HARDEST THINGS ABOUT LIFE … one way or another people were always leaving. Always moving on. That was the point the pastor was making, and Bailey Flanigan blinked back tears as she shifted in the pew beside her family. Like Cody Coleman, she told herself. Always leaving.

“Life changes. People come and go, and seasons never last.” Pastor Mark Atteberry’s voice rang with passionate emotion. “Nothing stays the same. We can count on that. Good times come and go … finances are ever changing … our health will eventually fail us. And through death or decision, everyone we know will someday leave us.” He paused, his eyes searching the congregation. “All except for Jesus Christ. Jesus will never leave you nor forsake you. And because of that we have the strength to love with all our hearts … even unaware of what tomorrow brings.” He smiled. “That’s what I want you to take away from today’s service. Jesus stays.”

Pastor Mark asked them to turn their Bibles to the book of Deuteronomy. Bailey did as she was told, but the rest of the sermon she struggled to stay focused. Cody hadn’t talked to her since that day on her parents’ porch, the day he tried to convince her it was finally and absolutely time to move on. Now, two months later, the pain and silence of the passing time was just about killing her.

When the hour was almost over, Bailey’s mom, Jenny, turned to her. “Powerful message.” Her voice was barely a whisper, only loud enough for Bailey.

Bailey nodded and managed a slight smile. She’d tell her mom later how much her heart hurt, how Pastor Mark’s talk about goodbyes stirred up all the missing she’d ever felt for Cody. Never mind the days when she seemed over him, when she didn’t look for a text every hour or catch the phone ringing at night and hope it was him. Today, even with her mom and dad and five brothers seated along the pew beside her, there was no way around her feelings.

She missed Cody with every aching breath.

The service ended with a song Bailey loved — a Chris Tomlin song called “Our God” that always stirred her love for the Lord and her belief in His promises. She stood next to her mom and glanced down the row at her family. How great that they could be here together, worshipping and praising God, and sharing everything they believed. How amazing to celebrate Sundays with them always. She smiled, ignoring the sting of fresh tears in her eyes. Wasn’t that the point Pastor Mark was making? This picture of the Flanigan family wouldn’t last either. They were all growing up. And some Sunday not far down the road they’d be spread out to other churches, other places where they would begin their own lives.

Because only Jesus stayed.

But God in all His goodness still allowed moments like this, and no matter how far they might someday be from each other, they would hold tight to the memory of this: what it felt like to be a family who loved each other deeply and cared for the people around the dining room table like they were each other’s best friends. The sort of family other people only dreamed about.

Bailey closed her eyes and let the music fill her soul. “Our God is greater … our God is stronger … God you are higher than any other …”

The beauty of the moment mixed with the sweet sadness of losing Cody, of not knowing where he was or what he was doing. The idea seemed outrageous, really. He hadn’t felt this far away when he was fighting in Iraq. Now he was only an hour away in Indianapolis, but it seemed like he’d fallen off the planet. At least that was where she assumed he was — the place he’d been the last time they saw each other.

Pastor Mark dismissed them, and Bailey felt her mother give her a side hug. “You were thinking about him.” She pressed her cheek against Bailey’s.

Bailey had nothing to hide where her mom was concerned. She looked straight at her. “How could I not?”

“We’ll talk later.”

“Okay.” Bailey returned the hug and they moved into the aisle with the rest of the family. The knowing in her mother’s eyes made Bailey grateful. Bailey kept no secrets from her mom and, because of that, they would always be close.

Anyway, the conversation would have to come later. Ashley Baxter Blake and her husband, Landon, had invited them over for dinner, which meant a house full of people. It was a Baxter family tradition, and at least once a month the Baxters invited Bailey’s family too. The more people the better — that was Ashley’s theory. She and Landon bought the old farmhouse from John Baxter, Ashley’s father. Bailey was sure she saw a wistfulness in John’s eyes whenever they gathered for dinner. A longing for days gone by maybe. Days that hadn’t lasted any more than the ones now would last for the Flanigan family.

Bailey couldn’t imagine raising a family for decades in a house and then coming back only as a visitor. But it was better than having strangers live in the place. Especially with all the memories that still lived between the walls and windows.

On the drive to the Baxter house, Bailey caught herself more aware than usual that even this — all eight of them traveling somewhere after church — wouldn’t last. She was almost twenty-one, after all, in her third year at Indiana University. She leaned against the car door and listened to her brothers’ conversations around her. Connor was seventeen and closest to Bailey in age. This was his junior year, and he was about to begin his final football season as starting quarterback — throwing for more than 200 yards a game, the way Cody had taught him.

Connor was class president and debating themes for the Spring Fling dance — an annual costume event at Clear Creek High. “I’m thinking ‘Meant to Be.’” Connor glanced back at his brothers Shawn and Justin — both sophomores — and BJ, a freshman. “I mean, I kinda like it. What do you think? ‘Meant to Be.’”

“Meant to be what?” Justin frowned.

In the seat beside Bailey, the youngest Flanigan boy—tow-headed twelve-year-old Ricky—giggled. “Like, you come as Batman, but you tell everyone you meant to be Robin?”

A round of laughter filled the Suburban. Bailey chuckled to herself and gave Connor a helpless look. The younger boys had a point.

Connor flashed a patient, crooked grin. “Not like that.” He waited until he had their attention again. “Meant to be, like Batman and Cat Woman — two characters who were meant to be together.”

“Or maybe just sort of ‘Meant to Bee.’” Ricky let loose another few delightful bouts of laughter. “Like a bumblebee. Then everyone could dress in yellow and black.”

“Yeah, or maybe Meant to B.” Shawn’s laugh was always louder than the others. “You know … the letter B. That way everyone could dress as something that started with a B.”

“Okay … you’re all comedians.” Connor gave a mock surrender. “I’ll ask the leadership class.”

From the front passenger seat, their mom looked over her shoulder. “I like it.” Her smile was kind, her eyes thoughtful. “A cowboy and a cowgirl … a doctor and a nurse … that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, only if Justin goes with Kayla, he’ll have to be the nurse.” Shawn was working to keep his laughter down, but he was losing the battle. “Because she’s a whiz kid at science. She wants to be a surgeon.”

The conversation soothed the rough edges of Bailey’s soul, helping her find perspective after an hour of being flooded with memories of Cody. This was her reality now. And though Pastor Mark was right — this season wouldn’t last — for now it was exactly where she wanted to be.

“Have you heard from Brandon?” Her dad caught Bailey’s attention in the rearview mirror. “Since they pulled the movie?”

“He texted me yesterday.” The memory warmed her heart. “He’s so different from the guy he used to be. His faith means everything to him.”

“And the media knows it.” He looked happy about the fact. “I’m proud of that young man. Very proud.”

Bailey’s mom angled herself so she could see Bailey. “His manager knows it, too. That’s why they shelved the movie, I’m sure.”

“Of course … I agree, definitely.”

The boys still chattered about the upcoming dance, but the family could easily hold more than one conversation at a time. Bailey slid forward so her parents could hear her. “Brandon knows that’s the reason. Everyone loved us in Unlocked, but his manager doesn’t want Brandon to seem soft to the Hollywood crowd.”

“Casting him in a movie about a NASCAR driver will definitely keep that from happening.” Her dad raised his brow. “And Brandon’s doing his own stunts, is that true?”

“It is.” Bailey wasn’t happy about that part. “I’m still trying to talk him out of it.”

“Next time you two chat, tell him we said hi.” Her dad kept his eyes on the road. “I pray for him every day.” He caught her eye one more time. “The same way I pray for Cody.” He hesitated. “Which reminds me … Matt Keagan asked about you the other day. He figured out you were my daughter about a week after the season ended. Every time he stops in the weight room he doesn’t let up.”

Bailey laughed under her breath. “That’s nice dad.” She shared a look with her mom. “Matt Keagan has a million girls in love with him. I’ll pass.”

“He is cute, though.” Her mom’s eyes twinkled — proof that she was only having fun.

“Of course he’s cute.” Bailey shook her head, enjoying the lighthearted silliness of the discussion. “He’s the strongest Christian in sports, he wears a wristband with Philippians 4:13 on it, and he takes mission trips to Ethiopia whenever he has a spare weekend. He’s perfect.” She laughed, and the feeling lifted her heart. “I heard he’s dating the daughter of a pastor in South Africa.”

“Last week everyone on Facebook and Twitter said Matt’s hanging out with a finalist from Dancing with the Stars.”

“Exactly.” Bailey laughed. An icon like Matt Keagan? The line of girls would be longer than ten football fields. “I’m not interested.”

The three of them fell quiet again, leaving just the boys’ conversation the rest of the way to the Baxter house. Bailey stared out the window. The countryside in Bloomington, Indiana, the rolling snow-covered hills, and the crisp, blue sky that spread out forever around them spoke peace to her soul. February brought a mix of weather, but always snow clung to the ground somewhere. This year more than most.

Bailey thought about her life and the guys God had brought across her path. The last year was so crazy amazing she almost felt like the whole thing had happened to someone else. Brandon Paul — the nation’s most popular young actor — had singled her out to star in his blockbuster movie Unlocked. The film was set to release in April, but it was still being edited. Bailey had never worked harder, and in the end she was satisfied with her performance.

But Bailey’s was nothing to Brandon’s. He played a teenager whose beautiful soul was locked in a prison of autism. She played his friend, the girl who believed she could draw him out and find a way for God to work a miracle in his life. She couldn’t wait to see what critics would say about the movie, about Brandon’s stunning portrayal of Holden Harris. The story was riveting—just like the bestselling novel by the same name.

Brandon had done the story justice, for sure. But, along the way, God had given him more than a key performance for his resume. During the shoot Bailey had talked to Brandon about the Lord, and the Bible, and God’s plan for him. Last New Year’s Eve Brandon came to the Flanigan house and had prayed to ask Jesus into his heart. Later that night, Bailey’s dad even baptized Brandon in their Jacuzzi.

Never mind that Brandon had a crush on Bailey. She didn’t see him that way — not with his past and the throngs of girls screaming his name. Brandon was a friend, nothing more. But in the wake of filming Unlocked, talk had immediately turned to the two of them starring in a love story.

“The chemistry between you is too strong to stop with Unlocked,” the producer told them. He wanted to film this spring. But in late January the movie was shelved so Brandon could focus on a NASCAR story about a guy living fast and dangerously, a guy in conflict with his racecar driver father. The story was called Chasing Sunsets, and Brandon had already signed on to play the part.

Bailey had been offered roles in other films, but nothing she would take. Agents and producers in Hollywood didn’t understand. She didn’t want to move to LA and spend her days auditioning. She was two years from finishing her theater degree at IU. After that, she still dreamed about performing on Broadway in New York City. But no matter where she did or didn’t act in the future her friendship with Brandon Paul would remain — she was sure of that.

She blinked, and lifted her eyes to the sky over Bloomington. The boys were talking about basketball, how Justin would be the fastest guard in the league.

“Cody Coleman was the fastest guy ever at Clear Creek High — football or hoops,” Ricky made the pronouncement proudly. “But Justin, you never know … maybe you’ll be faster.”

Cody Coleman. The boys’ voices faded as Bailey pictured Cody and the way he’d looked the last time they saw each other. She had just wrapped up the shoot with Brandon, and Cody seemed distracted. Different. Maybe the movie had something to do with his distance. Or maybe he pulled away because of Bailey’s closeness with Brandon Paul. A quiet sigh slipped from her throat.

Brandon could never be Cody Coleman.

She heard the slightest buzzing sound from her purse and realized she still had her phone on mute from church. She dug around, but by the time she found it the call was gone. She pressed a button at the top of the phone and a number flashed across the screen — one she didn’t recognize. The area code was 212. New York City.

Strange, she thought. Tim Reed was the only person she knew living in New York. But she had his number programmed into her contacts, so unless he used a different phone, the call couldn’t be from him. She was still staring at the number when her phone flashed that a voicemail had come in. At the same time, her dad pulled into the Baxters’ driveway. The place looked beautiful, surrounded by snow and barren trees. A thin ribbon of smoke came from the chimney, and already six cars packed the area adjacent to the garage.

“I can smell the barbecue sauce from here.” Ricky took a long whiff as they stepped out of the SUV. “Best barbecue in Bloomington.” He grinned at the others, but then his expression changed sharply as he caught a teasing look from their mother. “Except for yours, of course. Second best. That’s what I meant to say.”

The air was cold against Bailey’s cheeks as they walked across the cleared sidewalk and into the house. For the next two hours the warmth from the fire and the Baxters was enough to keep Bailey distracted. They heard about Ashley’s paintings being discovered by a new gallery in New York City—one much larger than any gallery that had ever carried her work—and about how well the Baxter grandkids were doing in school and sports.

Bailey sat near her dad and keyed into a conversation between him and Ryan Taylor, the head football coach at Clear Creek High. Ryan was married to the oldest Baxter daughter, Kari. Until this school year, Cody had always been connected to Clear Creek High. Like Ricky said, he was the fastest football player there when he was a student and then, after returning from the war, he coached at Clear Creek.

Her dad and Ryan talked about how off-season training was going, and then Ryan set down his fork. “You hear much from Cody Coleman?”

A shadow fell over her father’s expression. “No.” He shook his head and wiped a napkin across his mouth. “Not for a couple months. I’m a little worried about him.”

For a few seconds Ryan didn’t say anything. “Rumor has it he’s going for the assistant job at Lyle — that small Christian school outside Indianapolis.”

Bailey felt her heart slide into a strange and unrecognizable rhythm. Cody was going for a job? Already? He still had another year of school left, two if he wanted a teaching credential. She looked at the food on her plate, but she wasn’t hungry.

“Hmm. I didn’t know.” Her dad’s expression remained flat, his tone even. “Maybe that’s better for him.”

“I’m not sure. Cody needs accountability.” Ryan squinted, his concern obvious. “Your family has always meant so much to that kid.” He hesitated. “I don’t like that he hasn’t called. We should pray … that he isn’t drinking again.”

Bailey had to keep herself from blurting out that of course Cody wasn’t drinking. He wouldn’t go back to that, even if he never contacted them again. But she kept quiet.

It wasn’t until later as they were headed home along the dark country roads, and the Suburban was quiet, that Bailey remembered her father’s expression when Ryan Taylor brought up Cody’s name. He almost looked angry, and suddenly in the silence of the ride she understood. Cody might be someone they all cared for, and he might have been a part of their family for many years. But now his silence hurt Bailey. It hurt all of them. And for that, her dad would only have so much patience.

Which explained the way her father teased about Matt Keagan. He was ready for Bailey to let go of Cody and get on with life. With someone more like her — someone like Matt.

Bailey stifled a quiet laugh. Matt Keagan. As if that were even a possibility …

Not until they were home and she and her mom were in the kitchen making hot tea did Bailey remember the phone call from the 212 area code and the message she still hadn’t heard. “Hey …” She ran lightly to the other side of the kitchen bar where her purse hung on one of the stools. “I got a call from New York.”

“New York?”

“Yeah.” She dug around her purse again and after half a minute finally found her phone. “Listen.” She pushed a few buttons and put the phone on speaker so they could both hear.

“Hello, this is Francesca Tilly, producer for the Broadway production of Hairspray. I was given your name by a friend of mine, a producer with the show Wicked.” The woman’s Italian accent was thick. She talked very fast and sounded quite serious. “We’ve lost members of our cast for various reasons, so we’ll host a limited audition in three weeks. We know about your role in the Brandon Paul film, and we’d like you to attend.” Another pause.

What in the world Bailey locked eyes with her mom. She covered her mouth with her hand and kept listening.

“I apologize for calling you on a Sunday, but our schedule is crazy tomorrow. If you’re interested, contact me at my office number. You’ll be given details then. Thank you for your time. I hope to hear from you.”

The woman left her number twice, and the message came to an end. Bailey set her phone down and let out a brief scream. “Did you hear that?”

Her mom grinned big. “I knew it …” She laughed out loud and reached for Bailey’s hands. “I knew someone would notice you after your last audition.”

Bailey danced her way closer and took hold of her mom’s fingers. “Can you believe it? Hairspray?” She screamed again. “That’s my all-time favorite show! And they want me to audition!!”

“What’s the commotion?” Her dad had been in the garage. He looked happy, but bewildered as he came closer. “Whatever it is, you’re sure smiling big.” He came to her and kissed the top of her head. “So I’m sure I’ll like it too.”

“I’m going back to New York!” Bailey’s heart was still grasping the reality of the voicemail. “This producer wants me to audition for Hairspray! Isn’t that the craziest thing?”

He smiled as he searched her eyes. “That surprises you?”

“Yes!” She squealed, dancing in place. “Of course it surprises me. I can’t believe I’m still standing!”

They laughed and for the next half hour they talked about the songs Bailey could sing for the audition, and how she was more prepared now, and the fact that her dance lessons would definitely pay off because she was a better dancer than before.

Bailey thought about something Francesca Tilly had said on the message and for a moment her happiness dropped off. “You don’t think they only want me because of my role in Unlocked, do you?”

“Of course not.” Her mom’s answer was quick, her tone convincing. “You have to be more than well known to survive on Broadway.” She smiled. “They called you because of your skills, honey.”

She nodded slowly. “I hope so.” The last thing she would want was a role handed to her because of her visibility. On Broadway a person needed to earn their place — it was that simple. They talked more about the logistics of what lay ahead, and what the producers would look for during the upcoming audition. Bailey was exhausted in every possible way by the time she went to bed, and even then she wasn’t sure she could ever find her way to sleep. She thought about Cody and how tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. Not only would she go another February fourteenth alone, but he wasn’t even part of her life to share in the excitement that had just happened. She rolled onto her side and stared at the moonlight splashed across the wall.

She was going back to New York for another audition! She’d asked God for this every day since her last one, when the producers of Wicked had cut her and offered her former boyfriend Tim Reed a part in the show. Now … now it was finally her turn to show a different set of producers she had what it took to win a part.

She breathed out. Calm down, Bailey … you need sleep. She smiled in the darkness but as she did, she remembered Pastor Mark’s message from earlier. Everyone says goodbye eventually … people come and go … nothing stays except for Jesus. And suddenly amidst her very great joy came a flash of sadness. Grief, almost. Because if God allowed this, she might actually win a part on Broadway. All of which would mean one very certain thing. Despite everything she loved about Bloomington and her family and her classes at IU, this wouldn’t be a time to think about Brandon Paul or to meet Matt Keagan or to wonder about Cody.

It would be her time to leave.