Leaving (10 page)

“Can you breathe?” She kept running, faster … closer to him. “Landon can you breathe?”

He made a move with his head, but she couldn’t tell if he was
shaking it no or nodding yes. She reached for her phone in her coat pocket, but just as she was about to call for help, he waved his hand at her, the sort of waving that usually signaled a person was okay. Only Landon was definitely not okay.

Faster … closer …

“Landon … I’m calling 9–1–1.”

This time his response was clear. As she reached him, he lifted his eyes to her and shook his head. “No … I’m … okay.”

“Landon …” Ashley felt the blood leave her face. Until now it had been impossible to hear whether he was getting air, whether he was breathing at all. But now she could hear him and the sound was horrific — every breath marked by an intense wheezing. This was a full-blown asthma attack, Ashley was sure. Landon needed all his energy to get barely a breath. She took hold of his shoulder. “Let me call for help. Please …”

He held up his index finger, telling her to give him a minute. The problem was, if the restriction in his airways grew worse, he might not have even that long. Ashley put her arm around his shoulders. Again Landon hung his head, and he seemed to force himself to relax, to breathe more slowly.

I can’t do this, God … give me wisdom … how can I help him, please … open his airways. Please, God … Ashley glanced back at their kids in the driveway. They hadn’t moved from where she’d left them. Ashley leaned in close to Landon, listening to him. Please, God … calm his breathing … please …

Peace filled the air around them, a peace so other-worldly that Ashley felt God’s presence like only a few times before in her life. Suddenly, the wheezing let up and Landon’s struggle to breathe eased. One minute passed, and another … and Landon was able to stand.
Thank You, God … thank You! Only You can breathe life into a person.

Landon’s face was still red, his forehead and back drenched
in sweat. “Wow … that’s never happened.” He was still breathing harder than normal, but he could take in air without a wheeze.

“That’s asthma, Landon. You had an asthma attack.”

“I know.” Landon loved to tease, loved to find humor in almost any situation. But he wasn’t smiling now. His expression was marked by a sobering reality. “It was bad. I … I didn’t have my phone.” He drew a slow, deep breath. “I wasn’t sure …” he looked at her and his eyes grew teary. “I couldn’t breathe, Ash.” He pursed his lips and exhaled, pacing a few steps from her and then back again. “I mean I seriously couldn’t breathe.” He looked up, struggling with his composure before he met her eyes again. “I wasn’t sure … I thought it was over, that I — “ He couldn’t finish his sentence. His chin quivered and again he exhaled, fighting his emotions. “Ash …”

“Dear God …” Her heart slammed around in her chest, searching for normal. Hadn’t she known he was in trouble? “I should’ve come sooner.”

“No.” He touched his hand to her cheek. “You couldn’t have known.”

“But I did … I knew.” She pulled him into her arms and rested her forehead on his chest, exhausted, sick from the adrenaline pumping through her veins. For a long moment she stayed that way, listening to his lungs fill with air again and again and again. They were past the danger for now, at least she thought so. But he needed a doctor. Sooner than later. She pulled herself away and checked on the kids again. Like before, they hadn’t moved. Ashley could only imagine what kind thing Devin said to his sister to get her to stay so still. She turned to Landon again. “You need to be seen. Let’s get in and I’ll call my dad.”

“Okay.” He started slowly walking beside her, back to their driveway. He took hold of her hand and eased his fingers between hers. He stopped walking for just a moment and looked deep into
her soul. “I love you … if I don’t tell you enough, I want you to know. I love you with all I am.”

“I know.” Fear stepped aside long enough that the reality of what almost happened actually hit. Her eyes blurred with unshed tears and she hugged him once more. “I love you too.”

“Thank God …” Again his voice was too strained, his emotions too strong for him to finish.

But she understood. She nodded. “I have been.” They finished their walk, and when they reached Devin and Janessa, both kids were crying. Ashley felt terrible, and clearly Landon did too. She swept Janessa onto her hip, and Devin practically jumped into Landon’s arms.

“You scared us, Daddy. We … we thought you were hurt.” Devin sucked in three quick sobs. “S-s-so, me and Nessa prayed. We asked Jesus to make you b-b-better.”

Landon still looked shaken, but he kissed Devin’s cheek. “Thank you, buddy. God heard your prayers.”

Devin wiped his chubby fists beneath his eyes. “So … so you’re better?”

“Yes.” He looked at Ashley as the four of them walked to the house. “Much better.”

Ashley could see by the expression on her husband’s face that he was concerned. They would call her father as soon as they were inside. John Baxter was one of the best and most respected doctors in Bloomington. He would know who Landon should see or whether he should get to the hospital right away. He needed an inhaler, at least. Maybe other medication. But as terrifying as this attack had been, as they reached the front porch what made Ashley sick to her stomach wasn’t the idea that Landon had asthma. Rather she worried about Landon’s lungs. She was sure her father would recommend further testing. And then it wouldn’t be a matter of merely surviving an asthma attack …

But surviving whatever had caused it.

B
AILEY CLOSED HER BEDROOM DOOR BEHIND HER AND WORKED
to catch her breath. The bike ride was a good idea. Six miles through her neighborhood into Clear Creek and back again, time enough to pray and think and wonder what in the world God’s plans for her might be. And when she’d start seeing them take shape. It was the last Saturday in March and warmer than it had been all spring. She peeled off her lightweight jacket and tossed it on her bed. Her legs felt tight—the result of too little exercise over the winter. She bent at the waist and stretched, feeling the burn in her hamstrings and calf muscles.

She wasn’t getting a callback from Francesca Tilly and the
Hairspray
production team. That much was obvious. Nearly three weeks had passed since the audition, and since they needed to fill spots right away, Bailey was sure they’d already chosen other dancers. The rejection hurt, she couldn’t lie. She worked so hard, and no matter why they hadn’t offered her a role, she couldn’t have done any better. So much for the assumption by the redheaded dancer. Bailey wasn’t being handed a role because of her role in
Unlocked,
which was a good thing. But she hadn’t won a part, either.

Which meant … what?

Bailey kicked one of her legs further behind her, deepening the stretch. The answer was clear. She could keep trying out, of course. But if her best wasn’t good enough, then she had to consider
he other possibility: Performing on Broadway wasn’t part of God’s plans for her life.

“Throw it long!” Ricky’s voice cut the silent spring air and wafted up through Bailey’s open bedroom window. “Make it a thirty-yarder. I can catch it … watch me!”

Bailey switched the stretch to her other leg. She remembered one time last summer playing catch with Ricky. He was barely thirteen, but already he was six feet tall and most of the time he didn’t know his own strength. He had told her to go for a long pass but she’d turned around too soon, and the ball hit her square in the stomach. Ricky was at her side immediately, but Bailey felt the blow for days after.

The way she felt it now in light of the failed
Hairspray
audition.

She didn’t talk about her disappointment with anyone but her mom, and even then she rarely brought it up. Every day of silence only screamed the answer louder. They didn’t want her. She wasn’t good enough or pretty enough or talented enough. Something. She straightened and took a slow breath. Her brothers had their spring scrimmage in a few hours, and she planned to go.

But lately she had to wonder. Was this her life? She’d finish college, maybe fly out for a handful of other auditions, but then wind up here in Bloomington? She loved the town she grew up in, and she certainly didn’t want to live in LA and spend her life auditioning for movies. But she wanted to perform on a stage, dancing and singing. It was a passion that burned in her with every breath. Still … maybe she’d never have what it took to make it.

Bailey walked to her window and stared out at her brothers, laughing and tossing the football on the front yard. They lived on enough acreage that they could run forever without reaching the road. For a few seconds, Bailey envied them — so young, and with so much growing up ahead of them. They didn’t worry about their futures or what they wanted to be when they grew
up. Not yet. Even Connor, who was a junior at Clear Creek High this year, didn’t have to think too hard about it. He would go to college — to Indiana University, no doubt. He had plenty of time to think about a career.

But at twenty-one, and with college almost wrapped up, the situation was different for Bailey. Her dad asked her yesterday if she’d thought about teaching drama someday, and she was honest with him. She’d thought about it. About maybe running a Christian Kids Theater group, like the one here in town. But always, though, the idea paled in comparison to being on stage.

She caught a look at her reflection and suddenly she felt shamed by her own thoughts. How dare she complain about her situation? Her family, her faith, her future — and everything that had led her to this point. Her whole life had been golden. And she’d had a turn to act, right? She’d starred in a movie opposite Brandon Paul, after all. Complaining now would only be the worst possible display of ingratitude.

Bailey took a shower and dressed for the game. She was blow-drying her long hair when she remembered the movie again.
Unlocked
was a runaway bestseller on the New York Times list, and everyone everywhere was reading it. Brandon Paul, Hollywood’s hottest young star, played Holden Harris, the autistic teenager whose beautiful soul was opened up by friendship and the miracle of song. Bailey played Ella, the friend who had helped change Holden’s life.

A week had passed since Brandon had texted her, but then he was gearing up for his next film. Still, she’d see him at the premiere for
Unlocked.
Her whole family was flying to LA in two weeks for the big event. Bailey smiled at the idea of seeing Brandon again. He had given his life to the Lord during his time in Bloomington, the direct result of his time on location, getting to know Bailey’s faith and the faith of her family. He teased her about wanting a
relationship with her, but Bailey could never take him seriously. Besides, she couldn’t live her life in front of a hundred paparazzi.

She turned off the blow dryer just as her cell phone went off. The song was “Mama, I’m a Big Girl Now” from
Hairspray.
Bailey made a mental note to change it after this call. The number wasn’t one she recognized. She tapped
answer
as she checked the time on her phone. Fifteen minutes before they had to leave for the game. “Hello?”

Silence.

Bailey checked her phone, and already the call was gone. Strange, she thought. She brought up the number again and studied it. The area code was 317. Indianapolis. For a long moment she wondered if the call could’ve been from Cody. She had his cell phone programmed into her phone, of course, but … he might have a new number. Or maybe he was calling from someone else’s phone. The prison phone, maybe. Where his mother lived.

It was possible. Bailey lowered her phone and stared at the framed photograph of Cody and her on the dresser. If he had made the call, why would he hang up? And why had he walked away in the first place? He should be at the football field, getting ready for the scrimmage. Coaching the Clear Creek kids the way he did last year. Her heart felt heavy as she stood and tossed her phone back on her bed. She needed to finish getting ready, but thoughts of Cody made her want to do something crazy.

Like get in her car after her brothers’ scrimmage and drive to Indianapolis. Find him at his apartment or wherever he was working and beg him to come to his senses. Why not go to him? Whatever mixed up reasoning he’d used to justify leaving, he was wrong. They still felt for each other, still longed for the way things used to be. That’s what his eyes had told her when they were last together — outside the prison, standing face to face in the falling snow.

She put on a touch of makeup, and flicked her hair into a
ponytail. On her way out of her room she grabbed her jacket, and as she reached the kitchen below she found her mom making turkey sandwiches. “You look pretty.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t want her tone to give her away, but she could never hide anything from her mom. She grabbed a knife from the top kitchen drawer and took the spot beside her. “How many are we making?”

“Thanks. A whole loaf, like always.” Her mom looked at her, a knowing in her expression. “You’re thinking about him.”

“Who?” Bailey could never hide anything from her mom. She kept her eyes on the piece of bread in her hands, and worked to spread jelly across the face of it.

“You know who.” She set her knife down on a nearby paper towel and turned to Bailey. “He hasn’t called?”

“No.” Bailey sighed. “Not once.”

“Honey … look at me.” Her mother’s tone was tender, but it held a hint of finality.

“A call came in a few minutes ago. Someone from Indianapolis and I thought …” Bailey set the slice of bread down and faced her. “I thought it might’ve been him.”

“Don’t do this to yourself.” She put her hands on Bailey’s shoulders. “Please, honey …”

“He’ll call … he will.” She believed it with all her heart. “One day he’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe.” Her mom ran her thumb along Bailey’s cheek. “But honey, that boy has broken your heart too many times.” She paused, and a fresh empathy filled her eyes. “We all love him … but he can’t keep doing this to you.”

Bailey wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Her mother was right. She blinked back tears and managed a slight shrug. “I still love him.” Her voice was tight, strained under the weight of her broken heart. “What am I supposed to do about that?”

“Let him go. Give him to God, so that God can heal both
of you.” Her mom raised her brow. “Remember what we talked about … The next time that boy pursues you, he better do it like a dying man looking for water in a desert. When it’s the right guy, you’ll know, Bailey … because he’ll cherish you.”

She nodded, frustrated and convinced all at the same time. Her mother was right. She couldn’t dream about driving to Indianapolis and finding Cody. He knew how to reach her. If he cared for her, he’d do just what her mom had said — search for her like a dying man looking for water in a desert. She hugged her mom. “It’s so hard.”

“I know.” Her mom smiled, despite the sadness in her eyes. “Let’s have a good day with the boys.”

They were almost finished making the loaf of sandwiches when Bailey’s dad bounded in from the garage. “The Colts are gonna be amazing, I tell you.” He whistled long and low, his booming voice full of energy. “I mean, what a great morning practice!” He walked up, kissed Bailey on her forehead, and swung her mom around in a hug like something from the movies. “How are my two favorite girls?”

Bailey and her mother exchanged a look, but after a couple seconds they laughed out loud. Her dad would never understand how Bailey felt. Cody had been gone for months. They would figure she had moved on a long time ago, even if the whole family still missed Cody. “Hmm,” her dad pounded back a glass of water and grinned at them. “I must’ve missed something.”

“Just girl talk.” Bailey’s mom grinned at her. “Everything’s fine.”

She offered him one of the sandwiches, and he took it with an appreciative nod. “Thanks. I’m starving.” He looked at the clock on the microwave. “Good. I have a couple minutes still.”

Bailey and her mom laughed again. She loved when her dad was in this mood — nothing but happiness and enthusiasm. She
leaned against the counter and smiled at him. “Okay, then … why was practice so good?”

“Two words.” He raised his sandwich in the air. “Matt Keagan.” With that he took a celebratory bite and finished off nearly a third of it.

“Oh boy … here we go.” Bailey’s mom laughed lightly as she put the remaining sandwiches back in the bread wrapper and twisted the metal tie around the top. “Matt’s awfully young to put the entire team’s success on him.”

“Ah, but you and every other naysayer haven’t seen what I’ve seen.” A grin filled his face as he waved his sandwich in the air. “The kid is amazing. I don’t care if he’s passing or running or working special teams. He’s a leader, Jenny. When he’s on the field, the performance of everyone on the team rises.”

Matt had drawn national attention last year at Ohio State University when he tweeted a different Bible verse before every game. He also wrote the verse with a Sharpie across the small white towel he used on the sidelines. His bold stance for faith was rivaled by only a few other players. When it came time for the draft, most people were surprised when the Colts took Matt Keagan in the third round. Since then, his public persona had grown with every product endorsement and every press conference. He even donated a million dollars of his signing bonus to a mission in India that provided women with sewing machines, training, and Bible study.

Matt Keagan was a modern-day hero of the faith larger than life, no question about that.

Bailey’s dad had believed in the rookie then, and he clearly believed in him now. He wolfed down the rest of the sandwich. “The thing is, I could put him at linebacker and he’d lead the league in a couple years. I really believe that. He has that something … that ‘it’ factor that other guys can’t manufacture.”

“So … we’re headed for the Super Bowl?” Jenny found an old
supermarket bag in a drawer and set the loaf of sandwiches inside. She cupped her hand around one side of her mouth. “Boys! Time to go!”

“Maybe …” Bailey’s dad nodded, more serious than he’d been since he walked in the door. “I mean, not necessarily this year, but soon. Matt Keagan’s that good. The rest of the league is going to understand why we wanted him so badly.”

The boys’ voices mingled together near the top of the stairs, and in a matter of seconds they ran down, gear bags slung over their shoulders. Only Ricky was too young to play for Clear Creek. Otherwise every Flanigan boy was dressed out and buzzing about the scrimmage.

The group packed into their Suburban, and they were backing out of the driveway when Bailey’s dad looked in the rearview mirror and grinned. “Oh … I invited one of the players over for dinner.”

“Wow, really?” Ricky was sitting next to Bailey in the middle row. He strained forward as far as his seat belt would let him go. “Who, Dad? Tell me it’s Matt Keagan?”

“Crazy kid.” From the back row, Justin gave Ricky a light push in the shoulder. “Matt Keagan would need a dozen body guards to go anywhere anymore. It wouldn’t be him. Right, Dad?”

Their dad hesitated just long enough that Bailey knew what was coming next. She held her breath, waiting. Her father had teased her about Matt Keagan wanting to meet her, but he wouldn’t invite him over for dinner, would he? Before she could think any longer about the possibility, her dad stopped at the end of the driveway, punched his fist in the air, and smiled over his shoulder at Ricky. “That’s exactly who. Matt Keagan.” He turned his attention to the road again and pulled onto the quiet street in front of their house. “His family’s in Ohio — and with our schedule he won’t be making the six-hour drive very often. So I invited him.”