Learning (5 page)

She could hardly wait for tomorrow.

T
HE PAINTING WAS ALMOST FINISHED, AND ASHLEY BAXTER
Blake wondered if it might be her best of all. In it there was her husband, Landon, and Cole, her son — the two of them on the Little League field. Cole in his uniform up to bat, and Landon behind him in his manager’s uniform, adjusting his son’s swing, giving him a final pep talk before his turn at bat.

It was a moment Ashley had watched in person a number of times, but here … captured on canvas, there seemed almost no difference between the image in her mind and the one before her. She set her paintbrush down and listened to the noise from downstairs. She could hear the sound of a movie —
Prince of Egypt
maybe — but there were none of the usual happy voices.

A chill ran down her arms. Ever since he’d come home from his time in the hospital, Landon hadn’t been the same. She worried about him when he left for a walk or when he was out by himself. What if he had another asthma attack? And what if this time no one saw him and the inhaler didn’t work? Her worry was hard on Landon, but Ashley wasn’t sure how to change it. A part of her didn’t think Landon should be out alone, not as long as his lungs were so unstable.

The dynamic was strange, because since they’d first fallen in love, Landon had been the strong one, the stable one. He never let anything faze him, never gave in to the possibility that something might set him off course. From the time they’d first become friends, she was the one with the mood swings, the one who had
run off to Paris to paint, and who had come home pregnant and alone. Landon? He was dependable, the one she could count on. Always there, always steady.

But all that had changed in a week.

“Look at it as a vacation,” Ashley had told him. “You haven’t had this much time off in way too long.” But no matter how she tried to convince him, the truth was, he’d been put on medical leave. Until doctors could determine if he really had polymyositis he couldn’t be cleared to return to work.

Polymyositis
…

Ashley let the word rumble around in her mind, where it regularly wreaked havoc on her peace and sanity. She had googled the disease for hours but she hadn’t found a single positive anecdote or discussion. The progression was often quick … lung transplants were usually needed once it affected breathing. And after a lung transplant, less than thirty percent of the patients were alive ten years later.

Ashley still didn’t hear anything but the cartoon from downstairs. Her mind began to race, rushing down the stairs ahead of her. What if he collapsed in the bathroom or outdoors with the dog? He paid no attention to the fact that if an attack hit when he was alone, he might not make it out of the attack alive.

She exhaled in a burst, stood, and removed her paint apron. Moving fast enough that she probably looked a little frantic, she hurried to the stairs. “Landon, … are you there?”

No answer. Ashley quickened her pace.
Dear God … I can’t keep doing this; he has to find the right medication. Please, Father … wherever he is, help him.
He was probably outside by the fishpond. He’d said something about working on it today. But if he’d been outside and passed out he might’ve fallen into the water and then — “Landon!”

“Mommy.” Devin ran from the family room to the bottom of the stairs and met her. “Are you okay? You sound scared.”

She pulled up, her breathing faster than it should’ve been. “Honey, do you know where Daddy is?”

“I’m out here.” His voice came from the kitchen.

Ashley could’ve collapsed there on the floor. He was okay … he wasn’t passed out near the fishpond or drowning in the water or suffocating in the bathroom or —

“Mommy.” Devin scrunched up his face, curious. “You still look scared.”

She forced a quick laugh and stooped down to his level. “No, buddy … I’m fine. I just want to talk to Daddy.”

“Really?” Devin looked doubtful. “About something scary?”

Her son had always been perceptive, but at times like this Ashley wished he might not grasp her emotions so completely. “No, sweetie. Nothing scary.” In light of his concerns, Devin looked afraid now too. She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed the tip of his nose. “Everything’s fine, Devin. Really. Go back and watch the movie with your sister.”

After a few seconds he smiled at her, but his eyes still held a slight doubt. Then he ran off to the family room to do as she asked. Ashley felt foolish for overreacting, but this was the pattern lately. She would go about the house finding him every half hour or so, just to make sure he was breathing. Usually she tried to be discreet, but today … with her imagination getting so far ahead of her … she had let her fear practically consume her.

“Ashley?” Landon sounded slightly frustrated. “What did you want?”

She walked to the kitchen and found him sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the window to the backyard, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He glanced at her but only for a moment. “I agree with Devin … you sounded terrified.” He took a slow sip of his coffee. “We’ve gone over this, Ash.”

Irritation rose within her, more at herself than at him. “I’m
sorry.” She took the seat beside him and touched his shoulder. “Can you look at me, Landon? Please.”

He sighed and turned his chair so he could see her. “What … you were upstairs painting and you had the sudden thought that I was … I don’t know … pruning the rosebushes and an asthma attack came over me and dropped me to the ground?”

She managed a sheepish shrug. “I was thinking the fishpond.”

His almost-angry look softened. For a long time he looked at her, searching her eyes as if he was trying to understand what made her worry the way she did. But then he chuckled in defeat and looked down at his coffee. “I’m fine.” His eyes found hers again. “The doctor said I can resume normal activity.”

“But … you’re still coughing.” Her voice was soft. She didn’t want to push the matter or make him angry. They’d never had to worry about tension between them, not in all their lives until now. “Doesn’t that mean the inhaler isn’t working … or the steroids need to be stronger?”

“No. It means my lungs are still healing.” He sounded tired, weary. “We can’t do this, Ash.” He shook his head. “Talk about my breathing … my lungs … my asthma. Every hour of the day … every day of the week.” His shoulders sank some. “I can’t do it.”

“I’m sorry.” She ran her fingers along his shoulder, his back. “I’m trying to learn how to live with all this and … I guess it’s just hard.”

“It’s hard for me, you mean.” He waved his hand toward the family room. “Your life is just as it always was. Working with the kids, teaching them how to read and color and taking them on play dates with your sisters.” He took another drink of his coffee. “You’re still painting and running our home and doing everything you ever did.” He wasn’t angry with her — she knew him that well. But his voice was louder than before. “Have you thought about me? I’m supposed to be out there fighting fires, protecting the city, and rescuing people.” He set his coffee cup down a little too
hard and rocked his chair back onto its back legs. Then he stood and paced to the sink and back to the table. “Look at me, Ashley … I’m going stir-crazy and I’ve only been home two weeks. I feel like I’m … like I’m useless.”

She wasn’t sure what to say, but she had to try. “What about the vacation idea?”

“That’s ridiculous.” This time his response was more of a yell. “Ashley, they’re telling me I might never go back to work. How can I think of that as a vacation?”

“Landon, please.” Her tone pleaded with him to lower his voice, to get control of himself. “This isn’t my fault.”

He seemed to hold his breath for a minute, and for half a second she wondered if his anger was causing him to go into an attack. But then he exhaled slowly, like he was searching for control again. He sat back down and took her hands gently in his. “I know it’s not your fault. This isn’t about fault. And yes, I love the kids and you. Being home for a few days has been great.”

Understanding filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt until now. “You miss it … being at the station. Is that it?”

“Of course I miss it.” An exasperated laugh sounded quietly on his lips. “It’s what I do, Ash, … I’m a firefighter. I can’t sit home and wait for the next round of tests.”

A different sort of panic pushed its way into Ashley’s heart. She hadn’t thought about this aspect of his lung disease. She’d been too worried about his survival to think about what might happen if he did live. “You could work investigations … or teach. You could get involved in coaching or you could —”

“Ash … don’t you see?” The pain in his voice, the hurt in his eyes was more than she had seen since their early days, back when he wasn’t sure if she loved him. “I fight fires. That’s what I love. It’s like,” he pointed his thumb toward the stairs, “if you couldn’t paint.”

Ashley sat back. There had been times in her life when she
relied on the canvas, times when she wasn’t sure she could live if she didn’t paint. She had always believed that creating a piece of art was proof of God in her life. His gift to her … and her gift to use for Him. She covered Landon’s hand with her own. “I … I didn’t see it that way.”

They heard the sound of quick feet and suddenly Devin stood in the doorway. “Are you guys fighting?”

Ashley and Landon shared a hurried look, one that expressed their mutual regret that their conversation had caused Devin to worry yet again. Landon walked to him and put a hand on their son’s shoulder. “We’re just talking, buddy.”

“Talking loud.” His brow lowered, and he looked wounded. “You didn’t have a nice tone.” His anger lifted a little, and he looked at Ashley. “I have to have a nice tone with Nessa, remember?” He put his hands on his hips. “So you have to have a nice tone too, right?”

“Yes.” Landon ran his hand along Devin’s blond hair. “I’m sorry, Dev … I’ll watch my tone, okay?”

“Okay.” His lips curved into a relieved smile. “You too, Mommy?”

Ashley’s heart ached. “Better tones all around.”

“We haffa be friends … all the time.” His smile filled his face this time. “Right?”

“Right.” Ashley joined Landon as they answered him at the same time. She stood and joined the guys, putting her arm around Devin and looking long and hard into his eyes. “I’m sorry … Daddy and I love each other very much. And you’re right. We’re best friends.”

Devin gave a satisfied nod and returned to the other room with his sister. Ashley peaked in on them and saw that Nessa had her pink blanket. She looked lost in the movie — right at the scene where God parts the Red Sea. “This is the part where God works
a miracle, right Mommy?” Devin called back to her as he settled in next to Janessa.

“Yes.” She slipped her arm around Landon’s waist. “This is the best part.”

“And God is working a miracle for Daddy too, right?”

“Exactly.” She hesitated, but not long enough to alarm him. “That’s exactly what God is going to do.”

She and Landon wandered back into the kitchen, and Landon sat down at the table again. He put his head in his hands. For a long time she only looked at him, wondering what God might have next for them. He had saved Landon from the house fire, breathed life into him, and helped him recover enough to be here — home where he belonged. But what about the future? Devin was right — they all needed to be best friends, especially Ashley and Landon. But if he couldn’t fight fires, then they would need a different sort of miracle — something Ashley hadn’t prayed for once since Landon had come home. Not so much that he’d live.

But that he’d have a purpose in doing so.

B
Y 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.