Longing (21 page)

Tears filled her heart and overflowed onto her face and jeans
— tears for all the ways she was thankful and all the ways her heart was breaking. Because the pattern of the world was so ugly and deceiving, and because that very pattern had trapped so many countless people. And because despite the longing in the soul of mankind for a rescue, the pattern of the world was easy to get used to, like a room full of bad curtains. The world could talk about love and life, goodness and grace … and miss the calling God had for every person on earth. Every single person. Regardless of their sin struggle.

The call to be transformed.

B
AILEY EXPECTED THE SHOW TO BE ONE OF THE BEST EVER, ESPECIALLY
after a morning like they’d just shared at the coffee shop. And she was right. From the time they gathered at the theater, the cast could sense something different, something special about this night. Gerald couldn’t stop talking about Jesus and the Bible and how God was working a miracle in his life. Most of the cast didn’t know what to make of him. But everyone was kind, all of them happy because he was happy — even if they didn’t quite understand.

The show seemed to fly by, and Bailey remembered after the curtain went up that this was a late night for Brandon. After filming, the crew was meeting to look at the daily footage, make sure they were capturing what they needed to put the movie together. Brandon had told her he couldn’t be there till eleven o’clock or later. She didn’t hear from him until she checked her phone between acts and found a response from him in her text messages.

Bailey, that’s amazing!! Seriously!! I’m SO proud of you for caring about your cast … for caring about everyone. I can’t wait for later to hear about Gerald. Love you too … now dance your heart out for Him.

Before the second act, Gerald pulled her aside, still glowing from places in his soul she doubted he’d known existed before today. “Let’s go out after the show—the whole cast. We can celebrate, and I’ll tell them about Romans 12. How about that?”

She laughed, overflowing with joy at his heartfelt enthusiasm. “We might want to start with just a verse or two.”

Gerald thought for a moment and then grinned. “You might be right.”

“But I like the idea of celebrating.” She hugged him, letting the highlights from earlier that day play in her heart again. “Maybe the Stardust Diner down the street?”

“Perfect!” Gerald stayed, and the moment between them became deeper even as the rest of the cast hurried back onstage for the second act. “About earlier, Bailey … thank you.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I always felt like … no matter what I decided about the Bible … you loved me anyway.” He leaned close and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for that. I …” He shook his head, looking somewhat amazed. “I never met a Christian like you before.”

His words stayed with her as she took the stage … with every beat of music that remained and every dance move she poured herself into. For months at a time she hadn’t thought her contribution to the
Hairspray
cast was worth anything at all. She’d taken the criticism of many of the cast members and her director, and she’d struggled with defeat and great loss after Chrissy died. More times than she could remember she’d gone home and poured out her thoughts in her journal, in her prayers, asking God to show her why He’d brought her here. What her purpose in this season of her life really was.

After Gerald’s talk she didn’t have to ask anymore. She knew.

The tremendous and exhilarating high that filled her soul as a result convinced her that this was, indeed, the best show of her entire time on Broadway. She’d never sung better, never danced cleaner … never believed more that this stage and this cast and this moment was right where she was supposed to be.

As they filed off the stage after curtain call, she could hardly wait to find Gerald, to help round up the others for the celebration
he wanted all of them to share. But before she could find him, as she was still taking her last few steps off the backstage steps, she heard Francesca Tilly’s voice. “Everyone listen up.” Bailey couldn’t see her, but she would’ve known the voice anywhere. “I need everyone to meet in wardrobe. Immediately, please.”

What in the world?
The wardrobe area was the one place backstage where they could all gather. Any other space would’ve been too small. But they had no meeting scheduled tonight. Bailey hadn’t even known Francesca was in the building. Wednesdays were usually just the cast and the stage manager.

The dancers fell quiet except for nervous glances swapped between them. Still wiping sweat from their foreheads, still dressed in their costumes, they filed silently to the wardrobe area. “This can’t be good,” one of the girls whispered.

For the first time it occurred to Bailey that the meeting might not be about a change in choreography or a call to excellence. Her throat felt dry, and she wished she had a bottle of water. She wound up next to Gerald in the second row. Francesca stood at the far end of the wardrobe area, watching them, arms crossed.

When they had all filed in, Francesca allowed a flicker of sorrow in her expression. Proof that whatever was coming was different than anything she’d said to them before this moment. She cleared her throat. “I don’t have good news. The producers have cancelled our show.”

Soft gasps came from the cast and a couple guys hung their heads. Bailey felt the shock come over her like a sudden downpour.

Francesca was going on. “Whatever financial formula they use, we didn’t cut it. We have ten days — through the end of January. After that you’ll all be released.” She hesitated, her lips pinched together. “We’ve had a good run here, people. I’m sorry. I wanted you to know as soon as I did.”

Bailey couldn’t feel her feet, couldn’t tell if she was breathing
or not. What had the director said? They were finished? The show was over? This wasn’t really happening. Everyone said they were doing great; they were filling the seats, right? That was the last report … it could be a year or longer before this moment might come. Francesca was saying she’d be there for the last few shows and something about closure. But everything about her announcement felt surreal, like a bad dream or a not-funny joke. Their show was finished? Bailey felt herself begin to shiver. She could barely hear over the pounding of her heart.

Gerald and the cast agreed that a celebration now would fall flat for sure. Instead, he invited everyone to watch him be baptized. He found her and hugged her before they went their separate ways. “I’m not afraid of this … God will show me what’s next.”

“Right.” Bailey smiled at him, grateful for his response. “That’s what I hoped you would say. I was just reminding myself of the same thing.”

They didn’t talk long, and the theater emptied more quickly than usual, everyone shocked and needing time to grasp their new reality. Not until she was home at the Kellers’ and she could finally talk to her mom did the truth set in. “It’s over, Mom … they’ve cancelled the show.” In the end she hadn’t even lasted a year on Broadway. And with the feedback she’d gotten from Francesca, she had two choices: Take dance classes and work hours every day, all while hitting one audition after another …

Or she could ask God what was next.

“How do you feel? Other than shocked …” Her mom’s voice was kind, gentle. Bailey loved how steady she was.

“I’m … not sure.” Bailey found a Clear Creek High sweatshirt in her bottom drawer and slipped it over her head. Between the cold outside and the chill of the unknown, Bailey was desperate to be warm again. “I guess I’ll get a copy of
Backstage
magazine … see which shows are auditioning. I need to get back on a show as
quickly as possible, for sure.” She hesitated. “I know that … and I know God has a plan. It’s just a little hard to see.”

“I’m sorry.” There was an ache in her mom’s voice. “I didn’t see this coming.”

“Me, either.” Her teeth chattered a little. “Anyway … my morning was amazing.” She caught her mom up on the development with Gerald, the baptism they’d attend that weekend.

“That’s wonderful.” She sounded unrushed, taking Bailey’s disappointment slowly without any pronouncement about Broadway being a hard place or God moving her on or where He might be taking her next. “All we really know is that Gerald’s decision out-shadows it all. That, and you’ll be absolutely ready for the next dance audition.”

“I hope so.” Bailey exhaled. She wasn’t cold anymore. “I love how you look at things, Mom.” She was about to explain how the cast had been secure in their show run for another year when another call came through. She glanced at the Caller ID and saw Brandon’s name. “Hey, Mom, can I call you back?”

“Definitely.” She hesitated. “It’ll be okay. I know it will.”

Bailey felt herself nodding in agreement. “Thanks … I believe that. Deep down, I really do. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Her mom’s voice reassured her, but she needed to talk to Brandon, needed to tell him the news. A part of her didn’t want to take his call, didn’t want to tell him because of their conversation about distance and how the show kept her here, away from him in LA. She switched to his call, not sure if he was still there. “Hello?”

“Ahhh … there. I’m okay now.” He gave an exaggerated exhale. “Baby … you have no idea how badly I needed to hear your voice.”

“Thanks.” She smiled despite her sadness. “You too.” She bit her lip, wondering if he could hear the hurt in her tone.

“Okay, so I can’t stop thinking about Gerald. I need all the details … tell me everything.”

“It was great.” She touched on the highlights, but her enthusiasm wasn’t what it would’ve been. “He’s so happy, Brandon.”

“Hmmm.” Admiration filled his tone. “I knew God was going to do something amazing with that Bible study.”

“Thanks.” She was quiet, not sure how to break the news. Besides, as soon as she told him, the reality would hit. She was losing her job. Her dream role was about to be a thing of the past.

“Bailey …” He was quiet for a few seconds. “What’s wrong?”

She closed her eyes and exhaled. “There’s no easy way to say it.”

“Say what?”

“It’s the show.” Another long sigh. “We’re done, Brandon. All of us. Ten more performances and the run’s over.”

“What?” He took a few beats and then groaned. “I can’t believe it. Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I thought … things were going well, right?”

“They were.” The producers’ decision still didn’t make sense. “We had an average of twenty more seats sold every night last week. One of the guys had the numbers.”

“So … are they sure? I mean … it’s not just a warning?”

“No.” She loved this about him, the way he responded to her loss. Never mind that it opened doors for the two of them to be together more. Brandon only cared about her pain. She opened her eyes and looked out the window. “It’s not a warning. The show’s been cancelled.”

He sighed, his frustration and shock evident. “I can’t believe it. The show’s so good.” They were both silent, letting the reality sink in. “This is so weird, the timing.”

“Why?” She stood and walked to the window, looking up at the slice of sky between the buildings across the street.

“You’re not going to believe it.” His laugh was one of disbelief. “My agent called today. He has a part he wants you to read for in early February. A lead in a big picture they’ll film in LA later this spring.” Even still he didn’t sound happy about the situation.
Amazed, but not happy. “I told him it wouldn’t work … you were busy with
Hairspray.
But now …”

Bailey felt her whole world tilt. “Really? That’s crazy …” Her feelings instantly stretched in opposite directions. “I mean, I really appreciate that. But I sort of thought … I mean, I figured I’d audition for a few more shows in New York. You know … because I just got here, Brandon. Not even a year ago.”

This time the silence was his. “So … you want to stay in Manhattan?”

“Well, yes.” She hated how this sounded, but she could do nothing to change the fact. “I’ve wanted to dance on Broadway all my life. I mean … I won’t stay here forever … but for now. Yes. If I can stay, I will.”

“Oh.” More quiet, this time longer than before. “Well, then … I guess I can tell the casting director you aren’t interested.”

Bailey’s heart pounded. “I’m interested. I just … I really want another Broadway show. If I can win a part, anyway.”

“Don’t worry about it …” He chuckled, but she knew him well enough to hear the hurt in his voice. “Do what you have to do … I believe in you, baby.”

The call ended sooner than usual, and Bailey felt the distance between them more than ever. When they were off the phone, Bailey stayed at the window for a long time. Thinking about her time in New York, the Bible study … the nights of performing. Gerald’s decision. She’d grown up this past year in Manhattan, learned how to live out her faith and find her way in the big city. Learned much about who she was and what mattered most and how to never let a day go by with regrets about the people God had placed in her life. She longed for the next opportunity, the next audition. Because of course she needed to stay in New York and pursue the next show. Brandon would understand.

This was where God had placed her.

C
ODY CLIMBED INTO THE BACK OF HIS PICKUP TRUCK AND
grabbed hold of the last of Cheyenne’s furniture — an old office chair she’d used at the desk in her apartment. He slid it to the waiting hands of the guy from Goodwill and then dusted the snow off his gloves. The man seemed indifferent about the items — an old sofa and end table, a small dining room set, and a few lamps. A couple oversized Hefty bags full of summer clothes and dresses she’d never wear again.

The guy didn’t say anything. He gave Cody a receipt and that was that. Cody climbed back in his truck cab and realized he was shaking. Was it so easy, getting rid of the things that surrounded a life? He had worked cleaning out Chey’s apartment since early that morning, but it wasn’t that hard. A cleaning service would be through later today. His part was to clear out her furniture, pack up her extra clothes, and gather the couple boxes of personal items that sat on the seat beside him.

Her apartment manager was buying her bedroom set in exchange for the past month’s rent. Another easy transaction. But every movement, every one of her belongings he lifted into his truck that morning and dropped off at Goodwill was like ripping away another piece of his heart. Each minute of this awful day just another reminder. She didn’t have long. Sure, she’d been more stable the last few days, but the end wasn’t far off.

Cody set his eyes straight ahead and drove out of the Goodwill parking lot and back toward Tara’s. It was the last Saturday
in January and the doctors were on board with Chey’s decision. She would stay at home in Tara’s guestroom until God took her to heaven. They’d refused hospice for now. Tara had taken a few weeks off work, and Cody was able to come every day after school. The doctor had warned they’d need hospice eventually. It would be better for all of them. But Cody didn’t want to call for help until it was absolutely necessary.

When he got back to her, Tara was asleep on the couch in the front room. Exhausted like they all were. Cody found his resolve and headed down the hall to the room where Cheyenne was staying. The drapes were open, sunlight streaming in through a break in the clouds. Much of the time lately Chey slept, tired from the cancer and a combination of the drugs she was taking to lessen her constant pain.

But right now she was propped up in bed, a peaceful look on her face. She turned at the sound of him and smiled — the sort of smile he hadn’t seen in too long. “Hi.” Gratitude shone in her eyes. “You’re already finished?”

“Yes.” Cody came into the room and took the chair beside her bed. “Everything you asked.”

“You found the boxes?” She sounded content, like they were merely having a conversation about a trip to the grocery store and not the elimination of all her earthly belongings.

“I did. They’re in the living room.” He wanted to cry, wanted once more to shout out loud that they couldn’t possibly be doing this, talking about cleaning out her apartment because she would never go home again. Instead he clenched his teeth and studied her, waiting. “You have enough clothes here, right?”

“I do.” She searched his face, her great appreciation apparent. “Thank you, Cody. What you did today … it means a lot.”

“Not a problem.” Cody didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to talk about something else, anything else. “You … look
good.” He angled his head, giving her a smile he hoped didn’t look as sad as he felt. “Feeling better?”

“I am.” She breathed in slowly, more full of life than anytime in the past week. “I saw you pull up. I thought maybe … we could talk.”

He nodded and reached for her hand. For a long time he only held it, trying not to notice her bony fingers or the way her skin felt thinner, dryer. “What’s on your mind?”

She waited, letting the question sink in. “Heaven.” She smiled. “You. Your trip to New York.” She uttered a quiet laugh. “A lot, I guess.”

“Well … I don’t really want to talk about heaven.” He managed a crooked grin. “If that’s okay.”

“For now.” She laughed once more, light and breathy. The sound was another reminder of her weakness. “We can talk about that at the end.”

He breathed in sharp through his nose. “I thought I told you about New York.”

“You told me about the interview and DeMetri’s loquaciousness. And about seeing
Hairspray.”
Her eyes danced at the memory. But just as quickly the light faded some. “But you didn’t tell me about Bailey Flanigan.” She paused. “Did you see her?”

Cody released her hand and leaned over his knees. For a few seconds he stared at the beige carpet. “She’s in the show, Chey.” Then he lifted his eyes to her, more tired than he’d felt before. “Yes. I saw her.”

“But you didn’t tell me about it. Whether you talked to her.”

“I did. Not very long. She was with Brandon Paul … and she had to meet with the fans.”

Cheyenne nodded slowly. She looked out the window again, in no hurry to get to the next part of the conversation. Finally she looked at him, and again her smile reached all the way to her soul. “You still love her.”

She had done this before, uttered a statement about Bailey that held not even a hint of questioning. As if the truth of the words was a given. “Cheyenne …” he whispered her name, then looked at the floor again. After a long time he raked his hand through his short dark hair. “Why do you say things like that?”

“Is it uncomfortable for you?” She reached for his hand.

“Yes.” He hesitated, but he took her fingers in his. “Very uncomfortable.”

“Because it’s true.”

A long breath rushed from him, and he worked to keep his frustration at bay. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“It’s okay, Cody. I understand.” Her eyes found the blue sky outside her window. “You know how I feel about Art.”

Her comment should’ve hurt at least a little. But it didn’t. Further proof that his feelings for Cheyenne were friendship. That they had always only been friendship. But maybe if she hadn’t been in the car accident, if she hadn’t gotten sick …

“I think …” he began, “I think you and I … we had a chance.”

“We did.” Again there wasn’t a hint of doubt in her voice. “If life had been different, I could’ve loved you. Really loved you.” She faced him, her smile colored by a knowing he’d never seen before. “But if I’m honest with myself, nothing we could’ve shared ever would’ve been exactly like Art and I had together.”

Cody tried to understand why she was doing this, why she felt it so important to tell him how she’d always loved Art more. Why she wanted to talk about Bailey. Maybe because she didn’t want to face death feeling anything but glad for whatever was next in Cody’s life. Didn’t want to head to heaven with even a hint of jealousy. Cody wasn’t sure. He released her hand again and sat up straighter, wanting to change the subject as badly as he wanted his next breath.

But Chey wasn’t ready yet. “The thing is, I saw the way you looked at her that day. At the football game.” Her smile stayed,
proof of either her great inner strength or her sincere peace with the topic. “When the two of you looked at each other, there was no one else in the stadium. No one.”

“She has a boyfriend.”

“I know.” Chey brought her fingers to her brow and massaged her temples. She winced and sucked in a sharp breath. “What is it … what can I get you?”

“Nothing.” She shuddered slightly and shook her head, as if to tell her body she wasn’t willing to let the pain have the upper hand. Not now. “I can’t take anything else for another hour.”

Cody sat back, amazed at her strength. She was in the final stages of brain cancer. Certainly if she wanted more pain medication she could have it. But she wanted these days to be lucid and as normal as possible. So pain was a regular part of her life. “There’s a reason why I bring this up.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. “It’s sort of pointless. She lives in New York and she’s in a serious relationship.”

“This isn’t about her.” Her expression relaxed, the pain wave subsided for now. “It’s about you.” She focused her eyes intently on his. “When I thought about this moment, this conversation … I always thought I would tell you to find her. After I’m gone … or before, if you wanted. Find her and fight for her and tell her how you feel.”

It was exactly the direction Cody figured this was going. Her statement confused him, and he knit his brow together. “That’s not what you’re going to say?”

“No.” The concern and caring in her eyes doubled. “Being sick, I’ve had time to think about you. How much love you have inside you … how much you have to give.” She reached out and took his hand again. “So much love.”

He felt the sting of tears, but he willed himself to be strong. He needed to hear her out, understand what she was getting at. “My real question, Cody, is why? Why did you leave her?”

“Bailey?” His heart picked up its pace. Wherever this was headed, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to go there.

“Yes.” She grimaced a little, but somehow found the ability to ignore the pain again. Outside the sun disappeared behind another bank of clouds, casting gray shadows over the bedroom. “You were there for me … because you walked away from her.”

How would he ever explain this? He felt frustration well up inside him and he sucked in a deep breath and held it. “It’s a long story.”

“Not really.” She ran her fingers along his, loving him, her voice the picture of patience. “When you love someone … like you think you love Bailey … you never walk away. Not for any reason.”

“She … she deserved someone better than me.” He squeezed Chey’s hand and stared at the floor again. “I was the bad kid, the guy her family helped out. She was … she was this ideal, this perfection. I was never good enough for her.”

“There it is.” Cheyenne released his hand and helped herself sit a little higher in the bed. Her tone grew more intense. “How many times have you walked away from that girl?”

Cody wanted to run, wanted to leave Cheyenne and get in his truck and drive as far and fast as he could from here. His relationship with Bailey was none of her business. No one had the right to ask him about this, about the times he’d walked away. “I always had a reason.”

“You weren’t good enough? Really, Cody?” She laughed, but the sound was beyond sad. “You’re a war hero, for heaven’s sake. You would’ve laid down in front of a bus for me … and I’m sure you would’ve done that for her too. You watched her grow up and your eyes say you still love her.” Cheyenne narrowed her eyes. “But you always ran.” She held his gaze, gathering her strength. “So … that tells me that deep inside, I’m not sure she’s the right girl for you, Cody.”

“She’s not.” His tone was nervous, desperate to change topics. “She’s dating someone else.”

“That’s not the point. If you wanted to be with her, you would’ve demanded she come talk to you in New York City, and you would’ve told her you weren’t leaving until you shared your feelings for her. If you wanted her, you would’ve never walked away that Thanksgiving … just because she was filming a movie with some Hollywood star.” She lowered her chin. “You think I haven’t put the pieces together. But I have. The two of you were dating, and you just left her, Cody. You walked away.”

He clenched his jaw. Why was she doing this, taking him back to that time? The walls felt like they were closing in around him, and he closed his eyes. “What’s your point, Chey … why are you saying this?”

“Because I think God showed me something. I think you’re in love with the
idea
of Bailey Flanigan more than you’re in love with
her.
If a girl makes you feel like you’re not good enough, then maybe you never will be. It’s not her fault … not your fault. But maybe with her you never could’ve been the amazing man of God, the selfless friend, and the romantic strong guy you could be … with someone else.”

Her words crushed him, pushing in around his heart and suffocating his soul. He wanted to shout at her and tell her she was crazy, that she couldn’t possibly know him that well, and that the reason he’d left Bailey time and again was because he was young and immature and he hadn’t known how to handle her, hadn’t understood that he could deserve a girl like Bailey.

But he couldn’t say it, couldn’t refute her. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and a voice resonated in his heart.

Listen, my son … wisdom is precious …

He blinked and looked again at Chey as the realization in his heart took root. Because along with the heaviness on his chest
was something he hadn’t expected to feel, a voice he didn’t want to acknowledge.

The voice of Truth.

“Maybe … maybe you and Bailey will find your way back together.” Cheyenne didn’t sound threatened by the idea. But she didn’t sound okay with it, either. “But when I picture you years down the road … I picture you with someone better.” She didn’t hesitate more than a few seconds. “Not better than Bailey, but better for
you.
Someone who makes you feel good about yourself, whose love makes you feel … ten feet high.”

He felt the tears again. “This … the way I ran so many times …” He struggled, trying to find his voice. “It was never Bailey’s fault. She tried to make me stay.”

“I’m not blaming her. I’m just saying … if she was the right girl, you wouldn’t be sitting across from me right now.” She crossed her arms, her voice sadder than at any point in the conversation. “I would just be a girl you met at a dinner party once at Tara Collins’ house. A girl whose name you probably wouldn’t even remember. Because you’d still be in Bailey’s life. And she never would’ve started dating Brandon Paul …” She let her voice fall quiet, to almost a whisper. “If Bailey was the right girl.”

Cody couldn’t fight the crushing sorrow another minute. He dug his elbow into his knee and pressed his head against his fist. Bailey was the right girl. She had been the right girl all of his life, right? From the time he’d met her. And his leaving, his running had never been her fault. She had tried to tell him that too many times to count. But somehow … in some way Cody hated to admit, Cheyenne had to be at least partly right.

Because in the end, Cody left Bailey. He always left.

Whether that was because he still saw her as a little girl, a younger sister … or if it was because he couldn’t hold his head up around someone so pure, Cody wasn’t sure. The only thing
screaming at him were the basic truths, the fact that Cheyenne had to be right about some of what she said. After all, he was sitting here.