Longing (17 page)

“Why?” He looked lost in love, mesmerized by her nearness. The result made him irresistible.

“Because …” She took a step back, giggling and dragging him along the sand with her. “Everything about loving you is crazy and different and amazing.” She held both hands high in the air. “One big unforgettable moment.”

He swept into a grand bow, grabbed her left hand, and held it high over her head. With a grace she hadn’t known he was capable of, he twirled her and then pulled her close, waltzing with her across the shoreline.

“What’s this … another prom?”

“What? I didn’t tell you?” He laughed as they held hands and started running along the shallow surf toward Katy and Dayne’s. “Proms are every few weeks for us. From now on.”

She was laughing, too, but she wouldn’t have minded it.

“Actually,” he slowed down, out of breath more from the sheer joy of their time together than from their short run. “It’s a long story, baby.”

But before he could launch into it, they heard the sound of pounding feet behind them in the distance. Bailey turned and saw the shadowy figures of several men running toward them, the outline of their oversized cameras clearly visible.

“Brandon!” She screamed without meaning to. The men were maybe twenty yards away and closing in fast. Which meant they’d been shooting pictures from some hiding place for who knew how long. Bailey felt suddenly sick to her stomach as she turned her back to them.

“Come on,” he grabbed her hand and they ran up the sandy beach as fast as they could.

The entire time Bailey couldn’t tell the pounding of her heart from the rapid fire clicks of the cameras behind them. What
pictures had they caught? The two of them kneeling in the sand? The exchange of the ring? In pictures it would seem like Brandon had actually proposed. “Wait!” Adrenaline coursed through her and she couldn’t draw a full breath. Panic surrounded her. “I can’t … keep up.”

He slowed a little and put his arm around her waist, protecting her from the cameras as best he could. They ran up the stairs and burst through the back door of Katy and Dayne’s. Bailey paced to the kitchen, back to the door, and to the kitchen again. Brandon bent at the waist and put his hands on his knees.

“They found you?” Katy didn’t look troubled by the fact. She was pulling a pan of salmon from the oven. Dayne was in the next room reading a book to Sophie.

“Yeah.” Bailey still couldn’t catch her breath. What if they’d seen the mock proposal? They would run it on the front page of every rag all across the country. She gasped for air, forcing herself to calm down.

“A crew must’ve stayed back. Just in case.” Brandon turned to Bailey. “Baby, shhh. It’s okay.” He seemed to know instinctively that she wasn’t okay, that the encounter was more than being caught by the paparazzi.

Katy must’ve realized it too, because she set the dinner down and came to Bailey’s side. “Hey … it’s okay. They can’t hurt you. And they won’t get any pictures of you in here.”

Bailey was still breathing too hard to explain how she felt, how the sound of the men running had freaked her out and how now she couldn’t help but replay everything about the last half hour and wonder whether the whole world would see it in the next week or so. Instead she concentrated on exhaling, so she wouldn’t hyperventilate and pass out here on the Matthews’ floor.

Worry darkened Brandon’s face and he turned to Katy. “Get her a cold cloth. Please …”

“Hold on.” Katy ran back into the kitchen and pulled something
from the closest drawer. She returned with the wet cloth seconds later. “Bailey, it’s okay. Really, honey.”

Control … she needed control. Please, God, give me Your peace. Help me catch my breath.

God’s peace. That’s what she needed to think about.

Do not be anxious about anything, daughter … my peace
I
give you.

More than the cold cloth or Brandon’s hand on the small of her back, the sense that God was with her, that He readily extended His peace to her was enough to make her relax just a little. Enough so she could finally draw a complete breath and find her voice. “I’m … I’m so- sorry.” She coughed a few times, reminding herself to breathe out so she could breathe in again. “That was … so weird.”

“It was a panic attack.” Dayne said it from the next room, quietly but just loud enough to be heard. Beside him Sophie wore a look of grave concern too.

A panic attack.
Dayne was right, which could only mean what? After all, the paparazzi didn’t normally bring out this response in her. So it had to be the seriousness of things between her and Brandon. The fact that this might not be a passing moment during a red-carpet event or a random moment in New York City.

This might one day be her life.

“Bailey … you okay?” Sophie slid off the sofa and danced a few steps in her direction. “You can pray to Jesus.”

“Yes.” Bailey straightened and allowed herself to lean into Brandon. “That’s just what I did, Sophie.”

“Jesus always helps us.” Sophie nodded big and looked at her mother for approval. “Right, Mommy?”

“Right, baby.”

Sophie waited another few seconds, until she was convinced that Bailey was okay. Then she ran back to Dayne and cuddled up close to him again. “Start at the beginning, okay, Daddy?”

He gave Bailey a teasing look. “Thanks a lot, Bailey.”

“My … pleasure.” His comment made her laugh, and for the first time since they’d come into the house, she felt Brandon relax beside her.

“What in the world?” He faced her.

Katy returned to the kitchen, leaving the two of them with at least a little privacy to talk about what had happened. “At first I … I was scared to death. But then … I started thinking.” She ran her hand through her hair and took a full breath. “About the pictures. Everything they might’ve seen.”

The shadows from earlier stayed, but now they weren’t so much concern as they were frustration. “You were worried about that?” He laughed but there wasn’t much humor in his voice. “What? That people might know we’re in love?” The truth dawned on him gradually. “Or that pictures might make people think we got engaged?”

“Well.” She felt terrible about the direction this was going. “It … could look like that.”

He seemed to make a willful decision right there before her. Rather than let her reaction anger or hurt him, he found the teasing place they’d owned right up until the time when they heard the running feet. “Ohhh … I get it. Because of the seaweed ring.”

“The seaweed — “ She switched gears and allowed herself to laugh again. Tentatively at first, and then in a way that was more real.

“What’s this?” Dayne called from the other room. “Brandon gave you a seaweed ring?”

“Daddy gave mommy a ring and that means we’re going to have a baby sister.”

“Or a baby brother.” Dayne corrected her. “We have to leave a little room there, sweet girl.”

Everyone laughed, and the awkwardness from a few minutes ago left entirely. Katy cast a quick look at Bailey from the kitchen.
Clearly she had overheard more than Dayne. The part about the photographers thinking they’d witnessed a proposal. “I’ll say this …” She smiled at both Bailey and Brandon. “The two of you are a lot like Dayne and me back in the day.” She grinned. “It was insane most of the time, but I came to expect that nothing about loving Dayne Matthews would ever be normal.”

“Hmmm.” Brandon gave Bailey a sheepish smile and then turned back to Katy. “Like getting a seaweed ring?”

“Yes, like that.” Katy laughed and pointed at her husband. “Right, honey?”

“Definitely.” He pumped his fist in the air a few times. “Let’s hear it for never normal.”

The words made Bailey laugh again, and she shared a quick hug with Brandon before the two of them headed into the kitchen to help with dinner. Why had she gotten so worked up? Whatever the paparazzi caught, it didn’t matter. Only they knew what their lives were like. The truth behind their relationship. If the rags wanted to run a picture of her getting a seaweed ring from Brandon Paul, so be it. That didn’t bother her.

But as the night progressed, she couldn’t help but admit that one thing did bother her. The fact that with Brandon, life would never truly be normal. She thought about her family in Bloomington, the love her parents shared, and the easy way they had about life, about grocery shopping and attending church and hosting Bible studies and being in the stands every Friday night for another Clear Creek football game. Sure, her dad was an NFL assistant coach. But their life had been more normal than not.

Late that night, after she and Brandon had said goodnight and he’d headed off with Seth, the driver, to his own house, Bailey stared at the seaweed ring on her finger and tried to imagine never having normal. A part of it sounded exciting. The way Katy had obviously come to see it. That night and later during her coffee date with Andi, she referred to the situation with Brandon this
way: Where he was concerned, she had come to ask God for just one thing: If Brandon was the guy for her, that she would learn to live without the very thing that had in some ways defined her childhood.

The ability to breathe in and out.

Like normal.

T
HE LUNCH MEETING WITH
S
PORTS
I
LLUSTRATED
AND THE INTERVIEW
with ESPN were two hours off, and Cody could hardly believe the drive into the city. He’d never been to New York, never seen the skyscrapers or the high rises that grew from Madison Avenue. Never even imagined the lights of Times Square. But here he was — he and DeMetri Smith — on an adventure he had almost cancelled.

When it first came up a few months ago, he had imagined taking Cheyenne. He would have paid for her hotel room, since ESPN was springing for his, and together they’d take in the sites of the city. But now that wasn’t possible, of course. Cheyenne was into another round of chemo. Down another ten pounds and looking worse every day. He almost didn’t come because he wasn’t sure it was right to leave her.

In the end she was the one who urged him to go. “I’m fine, Cody … I won’t be any less sick because you miss this chance.” She had a way of moving him to do things he might not otherwise attempt. This was no exception. She even used the DeMetri card. “Neither of you has ever been to New York City. Who knows when you’ll have a chance like this again?”

She was right, and Tara also assured him that though Chey was sick, she was stable for now. A few days away wouldn’t make a difference.

Cody settled into the stretch limo and smiled at DeMetri. The kid hadn’t stopped talking since the car picked them up. “I mean,
this is crazy high living, Coach. Traveling by limo.” He shook his head as he stared out the window, craning his neck to see the tops of the buildings. “This is sick.”

“True.” Cody laughed. “It would be sick to get used to it, Smitty. Especially if you want to be a pastor.”

“Hmm. You have a point.” He settled down for a minute. But then he bounced around on the seat again. “Still … I think God would want me to enjoy the ride, right Coach? For now?”

Again Cody laughed and he realized how good the action felt. How long had it been since he’d laughed? Cheyenne was right. This trip would be good for him. He would meet with a few members of the staffs at both
Sports Illustrated
and ESPN — where he and DeMetri would be interviewed on camera — and then they’d share a night on the town. There had been moments when he thought about seeing
Hairspray
tonight. Smitty would like the show, and, well … he’d never seen Bailey on Broadway.

But there seemed no point to it. He would only love her more if he watched her perform. And this week’s pictures on the cover of every gossip magazine seemed to suggest that Bailey and Brandon were getting more serious every day. One picture — though it was dark — almost made it look like Brandon had proposed to her. But the magazine stopped short of saying so.

The idea that Bailey could get engaged hadn’t even occurred to Cody until then. As if somewhere in the back of his mind he still held out hope that her relationship with Brandon would run its course … that Cheyenne would get better and he could be honest with her — that he needed to move on with his life. And somehow … some miraculous somehow … he and Bailey would find their way back together.

An idea that no longer seemed even remotely possible.

They hit traffic once they crossed into Manhattan, but even still the limo got them to ESPN studios in plenty of time. He and DeMetri slid out of the limo and the driver assured them he’d be
with them all day. He gave Cody a card with his phone number. “Call me when you need a ride.”

That night they were staying at the Marriott Marquis on Broadway — just three blocks from the theater where
Hairspray
was playing. Now as they headed past security to the elevator of the ESPN studio, DeMetri seemed to remember their plans for the night. “You said we’re hitting the town, right Coach? So does that mean a play? Because back before I started football I used to think I wanted to be a singer on Broadway. You know … the black Phantom of the Opera. Something like that.”

Cody elbowed the kid in the shoulder. “It’s not too late. You could put Liberty off for a year or two.”

DeMetri thought about it for a few seconds and then shook his head. “Nah, Coach … That time has come and gone. God’s calling me into the ministry for sure.” He waited a beat. “Besides, Liberty has musical theater. Did you know that, Coach?”

“I didn’t.” The fact that the kid had even taken him a little bit seriously was just one more reason to laugh. “Okay so about tonight. The
SI
reporter has a package for us. Tickets to one of the plays — probably
Mary Poppins.
He mentioned something about that being the hottest show on Broadway right now.”

“Aww,
Mary Poppins?”
They reached the right floor and the doors opened.

“Shhh.” Cody reminded him as they headed down a plush hallway toward a set of enormous double glass doors.

“Mary Poppins?”
He whispered his disapproval. “That’s like for little kids. We need something more hip, something with dancing.” He did a little dance move as they continued down the hall. “Come on, Coach. Use your pull a little.”

Cody ignored him as they pushed through the doors and introduced themselves. The interview would be first, they found out. A taped five-minute session with one of the network’s top
anchors. A makeup artist powdered both their faces in the half hour before it was time to go on the set.

“If the guys could see me now!” DeMetri closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose as the woman brushed powder beneath his eyes.

“It’s not so bad,” she smiled at him. “Last week I used this brush on LeBron James.”

“Whaaat?” Smitty practically jumped out of the makeup chair. “Are you kidding me? Cause that’s the sort of thing you can’t kid about, lady.”

“I’m absolutely serious.”

DeMetri thought about that and slowly he sat up straighter in the chair. “Well, then …” he raised a single eyebrow in Cody’s direction. “Take your time. I’ll be telling this story the rest of the year. In fact,” he nodded at Cody. “Pull out your phone and take a picture. I need proof.”

Again Cody chuckled, and he realized he felt a decade younger than this morning when they’d boarded the plane. He snapped the picture, and another one once they were seated on the ESPN set, wired with microphones and waiting for the anchor to arrive.

“Even with all this, Coach, you know what it makes me feel?” He leaned close to Cody, his voice a loud whisper. “What do you feel, Smitty?”

“Like I made the right choice — going to Liberty—following God’s call on my life. I mean sure,” he made a brushing motion toward the swanky set and then back in the direction of the makeup room. “I could get used to this lifestyle.” He tossed his hands. “Who couldn’t?” His expression grew more serious. “But this stuff is just the world. I’ll be working for the King of Heaven. That’s gotta be better, right Coach?”

“Right.” Cody hadn’t heard DeMetri talk so much in all the past year. Before the kid could launch into another monologue,
the anchor appeared. He shook hands with both of them and for the first time that day Smitty fell silent. This was the real thing, the anchor they all knew from watching
SportsCenter.

“We’re planning to run this interview the week between the conference championships and the Super Bowl. That’s when we’re in need of stories like this. And this is one of the best stories all year.” He smiled at them, his enthusiasm genuine. For the next ten minutes he prepped them, running through the questions and assuring them that their answers should be brief. “Five minutes flies by. So let me lead.”

They did and Cody had never been more proud of DeMetri. While the anchor started with Cody, reminding the audience how they might recall his face from the cover of
Sports Illustrated,
DeMetri sat quietly by, smiling and nodding in Cody’s direction. For all his chattiness, when it mattered he was absolutely professional.

Not until the last couple minutes was DeMetri asked to respond. But his answer to the one question that came his way was one Cody would remember forever. It had to do with what motivated DeMetri and the guys, the reason they thought for even a moment that this season could be different from the three that had preceded it.

“That’s easy.” Smitty’s grin was quick and sincere. “We started believing in miracles. And God started handing them out.”

Cody chuckled, nodding in agreement. However long or short he might talk, he could never sum up the season better than that. The anchor seemed to love the answer too, because at the end of the interview he looked into the camera and gave a pointed message to the two teams contending for the Super Bowl that year. “I think if I were about to play the biggest game of my life I might take some advice from DeMetri Smith and start believing in miracles. You never know. God just might start handing them out.”

With that the interview wrapped up, and the buildup of several months was over. The anchor thanked them and wished them luck in the coming season. He seemed surprised when DeMetri told him that he wasn’t planning to make a career of football, but of preaching the gospel. “Well, then … good for you.”

As they walked from the ESPN office to
Sports Illustrated
in the same building, Cody gave DeMetri a hearty pat on the back. “You made an impact on that guy. I mean it.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.” Cody smiled to himself, picturing the startled look on the anchor’s face again. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he started believing in miracles after meeting you.”

Smitty nodded, satisfied. “That’s what it’s all about. Living for God. Believing His Word. Looking for miracles.”

Whatever his professors taught him in the coming years would only be gravy, Cody thought to himself. DeMetri Smith was already wired to be a preacher.

He gave the same sort of answers at the luncheon with the
SI
staff. Hans Tesselaar welcomed them and introduced them to the other writers in the office. DeMetri entertained them with anecdotes from the season, and he finished with the same answer he’d given the ESPN anchor: that the team had merely started believing in miracles, and after that God started handing them out.

“I love this kid.” One of the editors shot a look at Hans, then back at DeMetri. “If you ever need a magazine job, come here first.”

Smitty laughed. “I better stick to Plan A. That’s the one that feels most right.”

The men around the table and a few women laughed at Smitty’s sincerity. The fact that he was so serious about the path God had called him to. When the lunch was over, Hans handed him an envelope. “This is from all of us. We want you and DeMetri to see
a show, have dinner at one of our favorite Times Square restaurants, and then of course, the hotel vouchers are in there as well.”

“Thank you.” Cody felt honored. Certainly this wasn’t the way they treated every cover story. Something about the boys of Lyle, the way God had worked among them, had touched the staff at
SI
in a special way. Cody wondered what sort of long-term impact the story might have on the staff — an eternal one, he hoped. It was something he and DeMetri would pray about later.

He didn’t open the envelope until they were in the elevator. By then Smitty was practically breathing down his neck. “What show, huh, Coach? Tell me it’s not
Mary Poppins.”

“Listen.” Cody held the envelope at arm’s length away from his player. “If it’s
Mary Poppins
you’ll be thankful, and we’ll have a great time. That show really is one of the hottest on Broadway right now.”

DeMetri backed up, hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll be grateful. Just hurry and open the envelope already, Coach.”

Cody did as he was asked, and the second the tickets came into view he felt his heart react. They were for
Hairspray.
Of course they were for
Hairspray.
Hans couldn’t possibly have known that Cody knew someone in the
Hairspray
cast or that seeing these tickets would hit him like a truck. But God had known. And for some reason he was supposed to be at Bailey’s show tonight.

“What is it?” Smitty peered over his shoulder and let out a squeal. “Are you kidding me?
Hairspray?”
He did a little dance, sort of an eighties move that made Cody worry the elevator might stop between floors.
“Hairspray,
Coach? That’s like the ultimate black and white party! Have you heard of it?”

There was no reason to tell DeMetri about Bailey, about his past with her or the fact that she was in the show. He could tell him later if the subject came up. For now it was enough that he nodded. “Yes, Smitty. I’ve heard of it.”

“I saw the movie. You saw the movie, right, Coach?” He didn’t
wait for an answer. “It’s hysterical. Has this dude John Travolta.” He paused. “You heard a’ John Travolta, Coach?”

“Yes, Smitty. I’ve heard of him.” The elevator opened and they stepped into the lobby. Out front the limo was already waiting for them. They climbed inside with DeMetri still going on about the movie version of the play.

“Anyway, this Travolta guy used to be some big stud, but in
Hairspray
like he plays a mom.” He made a face at Cody. “I know, weird, right? But that’s the way it always works with
Hairspray.
Some big dude plays the mom and that just makes it more fun. Plus,” he paused only long enough to grab a breath, “did I mention it’s like the best black and white dance party ever?”

“I know the storyline.” He chuckled. “How about we get dinner? Then you can tell me everything you know.”

“Everything?” DeMetri rolled his eyes in as exaggerated a fashion as possible. “That’d be the whole thing, Coach. I can’t do that.” He waggled his finger toward Cody. “You have to leave some element of suspense. I mean, this is our first Broadway show.”

“It’s our only Broadway show, Smitty.”

“Well,” he hesitated, gazing straight up as they entered Times Square. “That’s probably true.” He grinned back at Cody. “But a guy can dream, right?”

“Yes.” Cody imagined seeing Bailey dancing in
Hairspray
in just a few hours. “A guy can certainly dream.”

They ate dinner at Sardi’s, a restaurant on Forty-Fourth Street in the heart of Times Square. The moment they walked up to the hostess desk, Cody could feel DeMetri was about to pass out.