Longing (14 page)

“I’m sorry … about Barbara.” Brandon felt the rest of the city fade away. All his life he would remember this chance meeting
with the godly assistant manager of the famed New York jewelry store. A man too far along in years to know about Brandon’s fame or maybe even to care. “So … maybe you could do me a favor.”

“I’d love to.” Bill’s smile was back, laced with the sort of sadness that came with great reflection and long-ago Christmas memories.

“Can you pray for us … for Bailey and me?” He felt his own smile turn a little sheepish. “Tonight would’ve been impulsive, for sure.” His hesitation allowed a depth to fill his tone. “But I do want to marry her.”

Bill nodded. “I will. In fact, I’ll do that right now.” He came closer and put his hand firmly on Brandon’s shoulder.

The man couldn’t know the gift he was giving. Brandon closed his eyes and felt a rush of peace. As if the Holy Spirit’s presence was as real around them as the snow.

“Father, You brought Brandon and me together this Christmas Eve and we acknowledge that no appointments are by accident. I ask a special blessing on Brandon and his girl, Bailey. If marriage is in Your will, Lord, then show Brandon the timing. And grant him a magical night … even if it doesn’t include a proposal just yet. Stay in the middle of them, dear God. Thank You for being gracious enough to listen. In the name of Jesus, amen.”

“Amen.” Brandon opened his eyes, and took the slightest step back. “Thank you, Bill.”

“Well,” he looked at his watch. “I need to get home to Barbara. The staff where she lives … they’re expecting me.”

Brandon was touched to the depths of his soul. “Yes … you better get going then.” He took a step back and waved. “It was an honor meeting you.”

“And you.” He winked once more. “I’ll be praying for you and Bailey.” With that he opened his umbrella, waved in return, and headed down Fifth Avenue in the falling snow.

Brandon drew a long breath and thought about what had
just happened. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he stopped in at Tiffany’s tomorrow only to find that there never had been a Bill Dillman at all, that the gentleman had been a Christmas angel instead. The impact of their conversation was that strong. Bill Dillman and his precious Barbara … years in a home for Alzheimer’s patients — her memory gone, but not the love of her life. He would stand by her until he drew his last breath. Brandon had no doubt.

Because it was the sort of love he wanted to have one day. The kind he wanted to share with Bailey.

He wouldn’t ask her to marry him tonight, but after talking to Bill, he had a peace about the timing … and whatever lay ahead. He dug his hands deep into his pockets and trudged back toward Park Avenue and his room at the top of the Ritz. Fine. If the Lord wanted him to wait, he’d wait. But not for long. He had no intention of heading back to LA without at least a plan — a way and a when as to how he was going to ask her the question burning in his mind.

He changed clothes and called for his ride so he could get to her show early — the way he always did. And again she gave a tremendous performance. Brandon watched her, mesmerized by her. Bailey defined beauty, not just because of the way she looked dancing across the stage, but because of her heart. The way she loved.

After the show and after they signed autographs at the stage door, the cast shared an impromptu Christmas party in the green room, where even Francesca Tilly, the show’s director, joined them. “Best to enjoy our time together,” she said with a broad smile. “You never know if we’ll have another Christmas together.”

Brandon shared a quick look with Bailey. The woman always found a way to put a damper on a moment. But being with Bailey, sharing Christmas Eve with her, meant that even Francesca’s splash of reality couldn’t darken the moment.

After the party, several of the cast asked to join Brandon and Bailey for the Christmas Eve service at St. Thomas Episcopal Church ten blocks away, back on Fifth Avenue. Bailey’s castmates Gerald and Stefano especially wanted to go. “I’ve never set foot in a church.” Gerald uttered a nervous laugh. “I figure this is as good a night as any to give it a try.”

Brandon knew about Bailey’s Bible study with her cast, how they met at Starbucks every Wednesday morning, and how they tackled topics most people feared to touch: issues about sin struggles and finding freedom in Christ. He couldn’t have been more proud of her, the fact that her life and her love for Jesus had reached these two men and three of the women in the cast so strongly that they actually wanted to attend a Christmas Eve service.

At eleven-thirty, when there wasn’t a single fan left milling outside the theater, Brandon took Bailey’s hand in his. “Let’s start walking.” The two of them wore their “prom” coats, and the rest of the cast was prepared as well, dressed warmly enough to handle the walk, regardless of the winter night.

Outside the theater, the snow fell heavier than before, and the streets were emptying fast. A perfect setup, Brandon reminded himself. It would’ve been a great night to ask Bailey to marry him. But instead they would spend their evening with Gerald and Stefano and the other dancers. The way God clearly intended for this night.

Along the way they laughed and remembered funny moments from the night’s show. And halfway to the church Gerald fell quieter than the rest. “I wish … I wish Chrissy was here.”

Brandon held tighter to Bailey’s hand. “I’m sure … you all wish that.”

“Yes.” Bailey’s eyes glossed over a little. “She would’ve been with us tonight.”

Chrissy had been a dancer on the cast, and late last summer
she’d collapsed during a performance and died later that night. Too many years of crash dieting, too many pills to maintain an energy level she simply didn’t have. Brandon looked at Bailey and spoke to her in a whisper. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She smiled up at him through sad eyes. “I miss her … but I learned so much from her, Brandon. You know?”

Again Brandon felt the pride in his heart well up. The girl beside him understood God so much better than most people. She wasn’t perfect, but she was perfectly committed to living her life for the Lord. Sharing her heart and soul with people so that they might find a saving faith. The way she had shared with him during the filming of
Unlocked.
He slipped his arm around her and walked close beside her the rest of the way.

St. Thomas stood like a beacon in the snow as they rounded the corner from Forty-Second to Fifth Avenue. Snow clung to the myriad of tiny architectural details in the breathtaking structure, and Brandon knew he’d remember this Christmas Eve forever. Even if it wasn’t playing out the way he had hoped.

Once they were inside, he remembered the other cast members — most of whom had never been in a church.

Please, God, use this service. Speak to them and to us. Speak to me.

They settled into a pew halfway toward the front and in no time the choir took the stage and began to sing a haunting rendition of “Silent Night.” The group sat shoulder-to-shoulder, Brandon on one side of Bailey and Gerald on the other. Whatever happened, this group of dancers was connected to Bailey. That much was clear.

Then, as if God wanted to make sure that this different sort of Christmas Eve had true purpose for the moment, the pastor took the pulpit and gave them a message that he and Bailey could’ve written for these new friends.

The message was on longing.

“This time of year people are longing.” Kindness emanated from the pastor’s tone, his body language. “We long for love and relationship and healing and hope.” He smiled, and the warmth of it reached to the back row of the enormous old church. “But this Christmas God wants us to long for so much more.”

He spoke then about longing for holiness, for a closer walk with Jesus, for God’s truth to speak louder than the noise of the world. “When we long for the right things, we find a different sort of love. The kind of love that will never let go of us, never let us down. Never walk away or disown us. A love that knows us and our flaws but stays anyway.” He paused. “For us … to long for God is to long for a perfect love.”

Brandon glanced down the row and saw Gerald wipe a tear. His story was something Bailey had shared with him because there were similarities between Gerald’s upbringing and Brandon’s. In both cases their fathers had accused them of being gay because of their love for the arts. With Brandon the accusation made him distant and reckless, far from God and impulsive with any girl he came in contact with. But for Gerald the disapproval of his father must’ve been at least a part of the struggle he now faced: the struggle with homosexuality.

He watched Bailey reach over and take Gerald’s hand. Again, Brandon’s heart swelled with pride over Bailey’s ability to love. He faced the front of the church.

Keep working on his heart, Lord … lead him to that perfect love. Please, Father.

The sermon wrapped up with the pastor urging them to never settle for the longings of the world. “Some of you here tonight have never been in a church, never considered longing for a God who knows you by name, who knit you together.” He smiled big. “If that’s you, then welcome home! This is the night, friends. The time when you can choose to change your life once and for all. It
doesn’t matter who you are or where you’ve been. Your soul has been longing for God the whole time.”

Gerald’s tears came faster and he still held tight to Bailey’s hand. Down the row the rest of her castmates were glued to the sermon, each of them clearly moved by the message.

“Give yourself the gift of God’s love this Christmas. God’s Word promises if we start longing for that perfect love, everything … absolutely everything will follow that longing.” He held out both hands toward the people scattered throughout the pews. “Remember, God created our ability to long for love. But He wants us to long for His perfect love. And what in all the world could be a better Christmas gift than that?”

Brandon thought about the gift he’d wanted to buy, the one he had wanted to give Bailey later on tonight. But in light of the changes on the faces of Bailey’s friends, Brandon had to agree with the pastor’s message. On this Christmas night if five people who had run from God were suddenly willing to long for His truth, His love … then there could be no better Christmas gift.

As the service ended, Gerald pulled Bailey into his arms. In muffled words Brandon heard him tell her that he wanted that perfect sort of love. “I can’t run from God anymore. He loves me, even if my family never did.”

They stayed in the pews long after the other congregants had filed out, and Bailey and Brandon took turns talking about God’s power, His truth, and how it had the ability to set people free from whatever bound them. Brandon still wished that tonight might have been the night he could’ve proposed. But as they left the church, he felt certain God would show him the perfect timing for him and Bailey, for their love and the forever he was sure they had ahead of them. A forever like Bill and Barbara Dillman. In the meantime this Christmas Eve was about something else.

Longing for an eternal sort of love.

C
ODY HAD NEVER EXPERIENCED A SADDER
C
HRISTMAS
. C
HEY
enne was tired — just through with four weeks of chemotherapy and radiation. She’d lost eighteen pounds and most of her hair — especially where it had been shaved for surgery. Chey’s doctor wanted her to stay in the hospital through the aggressive treatment, but she’d begged him to be home. Tara would take care of her, and Cody could help. So, even though she was very sick and often too tired to get out of bed, she had been home for the last week.

Tonight, though, she was worse and Cody could do nothing to help her. Once Cheyenne was comfortable in Tara’s guestroom where she lived now with Tara, Cody sat for awhile with Tara. The woman was still devastated by Chey’s diagnosis, but she’d come to accept it. She no longer seemed on the verge of collapse or hysterics at the thought of losing Cheyenne.

They were all realistic about the battle. God could work a miracle, but short of that Cheyenne was losing the fight. Tests would determine exactly how badly next week, but they didn’t need official results. Chey was wasting away, her headaches stronger every day. Cody hugged Tara for a long while before he left. “We’ll get through this.” His words were as much for him as they were for her. A reminder of the truth they were anchored in. That with God all things were possible. Even surviving a season like this.

“She’s so sick.” Tara looked over her shoulder back at the
room where Cheyenne spent most of her time. “I can’t watch her suffer.” Peace soothed her expression. “If God’s gonna take her home, then He can do it.” Tara nodded. Quiet tears fell from her eyes as she smiled at Cody. “I won’t leave her until then.” “Me either.”

“But you need to, Cody. Go home tonight. Pray … think about your life. God’s doing something in both your hearts. Sometimes you have to get away from here to know what He’s trying to tell you.”

Cody agreed, even though he hated leaving Tara alone with Chey. If something happened … if tonight were the night … he would never want Tara to be by herself. “Call me. If anything changes.”

“I will.” She found her smile again. “And hey … Merry Christmas, Cody. God’s still in control. Just like He was two thousand years ago.”

“He is.” Cody kissed Tara’s cheek. “Call me.”

She nodded and stepped back, waving. He headed through the front door, down the stairs, and into his truck. He both hated and loved the freedom that came over him as he drove away. He rolled both his windows down and let the cold Christmas air fill his truck. For the first time that night he felt like he could breathe, like he’d been given a pass to leave the valley of the shadow of death — even if just for a little while.

Tara’s words gave him the comfort and assurance to keep driving. He needed to talk to God, to see what he was supposed to take from this sudden tragedy that had taken over all their lives. With everything in him he wanted to give Cheyenne a cure. No, he wasn’t in love with her. But he still loved her, still wanted life and hope and a future for her. She had so much to offer.

Tears blurred his eyes and he blinked, working to see the snowy highway ahead of him. Very few people were out tonight, and suddenly he thought about swinging by the Flanigans’ house.
He glanced at the time on his dashboard. Just after eight o’clock. By now they’d be finished with dinner. Probably playing Catch Phrase! or Apples to Apples … something where the family would be gathered around the living room fireplace, laughing and enjoying another unforgettable Christmas.

At the last moment, just before Cody could’ve taken the exit that led to their house, he changed his mind. It would take an hour to get there, and by then they’d be headed for bed. Jenny and Jim, at least. The Colts had been knocked out of the playoffs last week, but that didn’t mean Jim wasn’t busy. And whether the season was underway or not, Jim always turned in early and woke with the sun. So he could get up and pray for his family, read his Bible, and jog a few miles. The things that kept Jim Flanigan the strong man of God he had always been. The man he would always be.

No, he wouldn’t go to the Flanigans.

But Tara was right. He needed this time to think about his life, to refocus. He reached his apartment, parked on the street, and shivered as he unlocked the door and headed inside. There had been no time to buy a tree or decorations. He’d been gone so much, that DeMetri had taken to staying with his teammate Larry Sanders’ family. At least while Chey was sick. Otherwise the poor kid would’ve been here alone most of the time.

Cody fell into the nearest dining room chair and planted his elbows on the wooden table. Cheyenne’s illness had come up out of nowhere, and every moment since then had been a whirlwind of sadness and shock and survival. For Chey and Tara and himself.

He closed his eyes and allowed a helplessness to weigh in around his shoulders. Like a rising river it reached his neck and then his mouth and nose — practically suffocating him. Was this really how life was going to end for Cheyenne? With a sudden, intense, and losing battle to cancer? He raised his hands to his face
and hid behind his fingers, as if by sitting here this way, motionless, he could will it
all to be nothing more than a bad dream.

I don’t get it, God … it’s not fair. She’s so young … she’s been through so much.

The cry came from the most terrified place in his soul, the place where his faith was being rocked one hour at a time by the battle Cheyenne was fighting. He was a soldier, after all. A fighter. If he could’ve taken this war on himself, he would have. But instead he was helpless to do anything but stand by and encourage her. Encourage her while she lost weight and threw up the small bits of food she managed to eat. While her hair fell out and her clothes started falling off her.

It was enough to make him scream.

Cody had no idea how long he sat there, but long enough so that finally the waters of helplessness began to recede. Until his mind cleared enough to think about something other than Cheyenne and her terminal illness. When that happened, the first image that planted itself in his mind didn’t surprise him.

The picture of Bailey.

Of course Bailey didn’t know about Chey’s cancer. Not Bailey or her parents or any of the team. It had only been weeks since they’d won the title. Most of the guys were still walking on clouds, still fielding congratulations everywhere they went. The heroes of Lyle, Indiana. Even so, he would’ve told them — so they could pray and so they might know what he was going through, the reason he wasn’t around much. But Chey didn’t want anyone to know.

“Whatever time I have left, I want to spend it with you and Tara. Not with a stream of people coming by, feeling sorry for me.”

Her response made sense, but still Cody thought they should be entitled to pray for her. The more people praying, the better. But she only refuted by saying that she had her church praying.
People who didn’t know her connection to Cody or Lyle High. That way the town could carry on with their celebration. Cody stared out the window at the dark of Christmas night.

After awhile, he left his spot at the dining room table and found his laptop. He settled in on the worn sofa and found Bailey’s Facebook page. She was probably having the best Christmas of her whole life. Brandon was filming his most recent movie in New York City, which meant the two of them were together every night. Cody felt the familiar ache at the thought, the jealousy that didn’t take root, but reminded him how he felt about her.

How he would always feel.

There was nothing new on her Facebook, but with Bailey there was always a way to find out what she was up to. When a girl dated Brandon Paul, Google would have plenty to say about what they were doing and where they’d been. He typed in her name alongside Brandon Paul’s and hit enter.

Sure enough, pictures of the two of them instantly covered the screen. The most recent headline showed a picture of Bailey and what must’ve been some of her castmates working alongside a young bearded guy. The headline read, “Disguise Doesn’t Hide the Truth: Brandon Paul and Bailey Flanigan Serve Up Christmas Dinner at a New York City Mission.”

The guy seemed almost too good to be true. Whatever ugly details remained about his past, they were no uglier than the ones that made up Cody’s yesterdays. In Bailey’s presence Brandon was clearly a new guy. A guy sold out to God and to the work the Lord called him to do. At least it seemed that way.

He clicked through other pictures. Bailey and Brandon holding hands as they left St. Thomas Episcopal Church after a midnight Christmas Eve service, and the two of them sitting on a New York City bench during a break from his filming. The paparazzi were relentless. If Cody wanted to, he could literally follow Bailey’s every move — as long as Brandon was in town.

“Are you happy, Bailey … really happy?” He whispered the question aloud. “I miss you. I wish … I just wish I could hear your voice.”

The thought faded in the silent room, but as it did, a memory filled his mind. The box of belongings Bailey had given him at the hospital a year ago. He had brought the box home and looked through some of the contents. But not all of them. The box had been full of letters from Bailey, notes she’d written to him while he was in Iraq. Wasn’t that what she’d said? But last year when he brought the box home he hadn’t had the strength to look through them. He was still doing his best to run from her, to avoid the pain of losing her — strange as that all felt now.

So maybe that’s how he could spend the rest of this Christmas night. Since there was nothing he could do for Cheyenne, no one to visit, and since he couldn’t celebrate Christmas with his mom in prison until their visit tomorrow afternoon — this was the perfect time to find Bailey’s letters and read them.

He set his laptop down on the couch beside him and walked to his room. He didn’t have to wonder where they were, now that the idea had hit him. He remembered hiding them at the top of the closet like it was yesterday. He found the box easily and carried it back to the dining room table. The feel of it in his hands reminded him again of that day in the hospital, when he could’ve said something. Could’ve stopped her from leaving and told her how he felt about her.

But instead he watched her go. Let her leave him with a lifetime of memories and regrets … and this: the box of her letters.

He opened the lid and sifted through the contents. It felt almost eerie the way the contents smelled like her, the way they made him feel like she was sitting beside him, sharing this Christmas night with him like she might’ve been if he hadn’t freaked out. If he hadn’t run for his life instead of talking to her and hearing her heart when she set out to film
Unlocked
with Brandon Paul.

A few of the letters were handwritten, notes that were never sent his way—probably once she knew he was missing in action. Others were copies of what looked like pages of her journal. He took one from the box and opened it.

September 28,
she’d scribbled at the top of the page. There was no year, just the month and day. He let his eyes find the first line, let her words fill his heart as surely as if she were speaking them to him this very moment.

I’ve thought about Cody all day long, and now I can only do one thing. Write about him here, in my journal. He’s gone of course. Off fighting the bad guys in Iraq. But I keep asking myself why he had to leave. Didn’t he understand what I was feeling that day when we took the walk through the woods? Before he left?

Cody’s hands began to tremble. She’d felt that strongly for him back then? Before he left for war? The idea shocked him enough that he lowered the piece of paper and reminded himself to breathe. She never told him … but then, of course she didn’t. She was barely out of high school back then. It wouldn’t have been her place to tell him what she was feeling. Rather it should’ve been him who talked about it with her, who had that conversation before he set out for Army training.

He clenched his jaw and brought the journal page back up so he could see it. He found his place and began reading again.
Sometimes I think Cody left so he could fight that battle, instead of fighting for me. I know … he’s already made it clear. He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me. But that’s crazy. No one could ever care about me the way he does. Even when he thinks I don’t know how he feels about me, I do know. But now he’s gone and I can’t talk to him. I might not ever get to talk to him again. So all I can do is pray. I pray that God will protect him and bring him home safely and that somewhere down the road Cody will talk to me and tell me how he feels.

I pray that God teaches him to be open with me — and not
afraid. Until then I will picture how it was that day, the last walk we took together before he left. I wanted him to kiss me so badly, but it wasn’t God’s timing. It might never be God’s timing. If that’s true, then I have one more prayer. That God will help me learn to let go of him. Because right now letting go of Cody Coleman doesn’t even seem possible.

Cody read the last two paragraphs three more times before folding the piece of paper and setting it off to the side. He hadn’t learned much over the years, had he? When he left for Iraq Bailey knew him well enough to know he was running, that he was afraid to face his feelings for her. And now here he was … in the same exact situation.

Bailey’s prayers tugged at his heart and made him love her more … miss her more. God had answered every single one. He had kept Cody alive, brought him home as safe as possible, and led him to that wonderful July day when he’d finally told Bailey how he felt.

Cody read another few letters, before he couldn’t take another minute and had to put the box away. He pictured the paparazzi pictures of her and Brandon and it occurred to him that God had even answered Bailey’s last, most desperate prayer: That where Cody was concerned, since he hadn’t found a way to stop running from her, she might somehow learn to let go of him.

The way she most definitely had.