Leaving (26 page)

He couldn’t think of anything to say, anything that would
make the strain between them lessen. But there was a question he needed to ask … just so he’d know where her heart was. “You and Brandon … is that … is it serious?”

For a few seconds she said nothing, just looked up at him, the way only she could do. “Not yet.” She was only inches from him, but she looked closed off again. “It could be, I guess. We’re … we’re talking.” She nodded to the door again. “And Cheyenne … you have to be here for her.”

He could do nothing but agree on that point. “I am.” Never mind that Cheyenne might never wake up, or if she did she might never be the same. That wasn’t the point.

“Anyway … I need to go. I have to get back home.”

Panic welled inside him. She couldn’t leave yet … she’d just gotten here. And now things felt worse between them — like they were dating other people and maybe this might be the last time they saw each other. Even if none of that was true, it felt that way. “What about the box … can I look at it … do you have a minute?”

“I don’t.” She was already pulling away. She glanced a few times at the door. “I have to go, Cody.”

He felt more defeated than at any time in his life. “Can I ask you something?” She waited, and he took her silence as a yes. “How did you think this was going to go? You coming here?”

The hurt in her eyes was so great he felt it as a physical blow. “I didn’t know about Cheyenne.”

“But you have Brandon …” Again, he didn’t want to argue with her, but the truth remained. “So tell me, Bailey …” he kept his tone kind, his voice softer than before. He reached for her hands and like before she didn’t pull away. “Tell me. How did you picture it?”

Seconds passed and he could almost read her eyes. But not like before. “I don’t know.” Her anger was gone, and in its place a resignation. Their time was coming to a close. The only thing left to say was goodbye.

He took a chance, mainly because he didn’t have more than a minute or so. Without asking her or doubting himself or the wisdom in whether he should leave her this way, he drew her slowly to himself. “Please, Bailey … let me hold you.” He whispered the words against her face, her hair.

And this last time she came to him. She eased her arms around his waist and he wrapped his around her shoulders. Whatever ways she had wanted to keep her distance during this visit, she was no longer able. It was the only redeeming aspect of her visit so far. “No matter how things look …” he breathed against her hair, his words quiet, straight from his heart to hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know … how much it mattered to you.”

“How much
you
mattered.” She pressed her head against his chest, the way she’d done the last time they were together in January. “I won’t forget you …”

Cody wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but neither of them said anything. What could they say? There were no promises to make, no pronouncements of friendship or future visits. She was moving to New York. Their time for friendship had passed. But here … in a brightly lit hospital waiting room, Cody held onto her as long as she would stay in his arms.

She must’ve felt the same way, because minutes passed and still she held him. When she finally pulled back, her eyes were the same ones he’d loved since she was a senior in high school. “Goodbye, Cody.” Her voice was barely loud enough to hear. She smiled, ignoring the new tears in her eyes. “You know how to reach me.”

He wanted to kiss her, wanted to put his hands alongside her face and show her how much he still cared — how much he would always care. But she deserved better than a rushed kiss in her hour of goodbye. Instead he slowly stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. “Knock ‘em dead on Broadway, Bailey. I know you will.”

“Thanks.” Her smile was as familiar as his own heartbeat.

“By the way … you were amazing in
Unlocked.”

“You saw it?” She had one hand on the door already.

He hesitated, hoping she could see in his face everything he couldn’t say. “Of course I saw it. I loved it.”

“Well … thanks.” Her smile died. “I’ve got to go.”

“Bailey, … please.” He wasn’t sure what he wanted her to do. Clearly she had to go, but the idea of watching her walk away now was more than he could bear.

“Goodbye, Cody.” She came to him in a rush then, and hugged him one last time. As she did, her body trembled against his, the emotions too much for them. This time when she pulled back, she said nothing. Just looked straight at him for a long moment, and then opened the door and walked out.

Cody stared at the place where she’d just stood. Maybe he should run after her … tell her how wrong he’d been. They could make things work, no matter what his past held, because what did it matter, anyway? No one would ever love her the way he did. But he couldn’t bring himself to make a move.

Not here. Not in this season of their lives. She was grown up — leaving Indiana, heading off to New York where she needed to make her way in life. Down the road, he would find her again … look her up and see if Brandon was still in the picture or if by some miracle of God she still loved a football player she’d watched grow up … a guy who had come back from the war for her alone.

Cody smiled, despite the aching emptiness in his heart. Whether she knew it or not, Bailey had left him with more than whatever was in the shoebox. She’d left him this: In their final minute together she had held back nothing. Her eyes had told him everything he had only guessed at since January. The look was something he would hold onto forever, a memory that would never dim. Because no matter what she thought about Brandon, or how much time had passed, or how hurt she was about

Cheyenne, the truth was clear in her eyes. As clear as the water in Lake Monroe. Her eyes told him that she hadn’t only loved him back then. She loved him now.

The way she just might love him forever.

T
HE FEEL OF
C
ODY’S ARMS AROUND HER STAYED WITH
B
AILEY ON
the drive home and through the barbecue with her family, and long into the night. They hadn’t cleared anything up, really. He had no explanation for why he hadn’t called, and there were complications now that hadn’t been there before. His friendship with Cheyenne, and hers with Brandon Paul.

But all of that paled to how it felt simply to be with him.

His question haunted her — how had she expected their time together to go? Once she knew that Cody was holding vigil at the hospital with Cheyenne, she certainly couldn’t have expected it to be a reunion … or a rekindling. But she’d gone anyway, walked into a situation that was in some ways a guaranteed heartache.

She understood the answer better now, after a night’s sleep. She wanted something like a scene from a movie. He would tell her he had no interest in Cheyenne and she would say the same about Brandon. They would hug and hold onto each other, and promise each other that they’d never say goodbye again — no matter how far apart they might live for a year or two.

But the thing about movies was this: People paid money to watch scenes like that on a big screen, because they never played out that way in person.

No matter what they might’ve said to each other, the truth wasn’t going anywhere. He had feelings for Cheyenne — even if he couldn’t quite define them. And it was the same for her and Brandon. Otherwise she wouldn’t feel giddy every time he texted
her. Whatever separate roads their hearts had set out on, they each needed to finish the journey … see where it took them.

And maybe somewhere down the road, they’d find each other again.

It was Sunday morning and her family was headed back from church. Home to load up her suitcases and say their final goodbyes. She stared out the window of her parents’ Suburban and recognized the quiet around her. As if no one wanted to state the obvious — that this might be their last day together as a family for a very long time. Their last day of a childhood that had been beyond amazing. The sort of childhood other people only dream about.

From the backseat there was no joking or teasing, no casual conversation about the practices in the coming week or who was taking who in the draft or what homework assignments loomed. She heard the slightest sniffling and she turned to see Ricky, sitting in the middle of the backseat between Justin and Shawn. Ricky’s face was red with quiet tears … Ricky who had struggled with his own health a few years back, and who was always the one quick with a joke or an opinion.

He caught her looking at him, and he smiled … even as his face scrunched up with another stream of tears. He shook his head, as if to say he couldn’t talk, couldn’t say anything. Not here with everyone all around. She returned the smile and glanced at Shawn, and then Justin. They weren’t crying, but they each made eye contact with her and held it for a few seconds.

She sat between Connor and BJ, and it was clear the youngest of her Haitian brothers was feeling this goodbye like everyone else, because he only stared out the window. Connor reached for her hand and squeezed it. No words were ever needed with Connor. He had been her best friend as far back as she could remember. Saying goodbye to him would be hardest of all.

They parked and climbed out of the car, and her dad was the first to speak. “I’ll load the suitcases.”

“Thanks.” Bailey and her mom had taken care of every detail. There was nothing left to do but say goodbye. She checked her purse, making sure she had her wallet and her cell phone. “You’ve got the boarding passes, right mom?”

“I do.” Her mother was struggling, same as all of them. “We should probably get on the road.”

The boys had homework — even if they didn’t talk about it — so only her dad and Connor were riding with them to the airport. As Justin and Shawn helped with the last two suitcases, everyone gathered alongside the Suburban, and their dad cleared his throat. He hadn’t talked about how hard this was for him — watching his only daughter leave home. But the sorrow in his eyes said it all. “Let’s hold hands.” He looked at her, his smile assuring her that no matter how difficult this was, he was happy for her.

Slowly the boys joined hands, all of them delaying the goodbye that was coming. When they were in a tight circle, shoulder to shoulder, their father began. “Lord, you’re in this move Bailey is making, and we thank you for that. She’s leaving, yes … but she’s not leaving alone.”

This time the sniffles came from several of the boys. Bailey could hear it, but she didn’t want to look. Otherwise she might change her mind and stay here — where she was loved and where danger and uncertainty didn’t lurk around every corner.

Her dad continued. “She’s not leaving alone because you go with her.” There was a catch in his voice. “And we see proof of that with the way you arranged her housing. Thank you for this couple — the Owens. And we pray Bailey will learn much living with them.” He hesitated, and clearly he was fighting back tears, fighting to keep control.

The sound of his sadness sent Bailey over the edge, and the
tears came. They came in streams down her face, and she did nothing to stop them while her father kept praying.

“You gave us Bailey twenty-one years ago and you trusted us to raise her. Now … now we trust you to take her from here. Please, God … keep her safe. Keep her eyes on you. And bring us back together again someday soon.” He sniffed once. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Bailey opened her eyes and looked at her brothers. All of them were crying except Connor — who was standing awkwardly by the car door. His turn was coming … an hour from now at the Indianapolis Airport. Bailey could barely see for her tears, but she smiled at the boys. “I’ll miss you. All of you.”

They nodded, and Justin wiped his fist across his cheek. He made a sound that was more laugh than cry. “Just get it over with, Bailey … I can’t do this.”

“Me, either.” She appreciated his honesty and the light moment it provided for all of them. He was standing closest to her, so she went to him first. “Bye, Justin … text me, okay?”

He nodded. Then he put his muscled arm around her and held her like he’d never done before. Like he would’ve done anything to keep this moment from happening. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.” She made her way to BJ, and though their goodbye wasn’t as emotional, she had a feeling he would cry himself to sleep that night. He had told her yesterday after dinner that their family would never be the same with her gone. That was all she’d needed to hear from him.

Shawn promised to Skype with her, and like with the other boys, they exchanged
I love you
‘s. Ricky was last — her little brother. At six foot, he was all legs and puppy dog eyes, his big feet giving him the appearance of a human
L.
But inside he was still the boy who had undergone heart surgery as an infant, and
who was maybe the most tenderhearted of the Flanigan boys ever since. He threw his arms around her neck and held on.

“Buddy … we need to get going.” Their dad’s voice was kind.

Ricky nodded, but he was crying too hard to talk. As he pulled back, he mouthed the words, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Ricky.” Bailey’s tears were making her T-shirt wet, but she didn’t care. In some ways, saying goodbye to Ricky was harder in its own unique way. He was only thirteen. Depending on where life took her from here, he could spend the rest of his growing up years without his sister living under the same roof. It was the way of life, but it broke Bailey’s heart all the same.

Finally, it was time to go. Bailey would be back, of course. There would be breaks in the schedule, and anything could happen on Broadway. Producers closed shows all the time. But that didn’t change the significance of the moment.

As they drove down the driveway, Bailey looked back once more at her brothers, all of them lined up, waving at her. A million memories flashed in her mind, times she would take with her always. All the mornings waking up in her room, and the laughter around the breakfast and dinner table … every football game on TV or family game night … all of it was behind her now.

She watched them until her dad turned the corner, and the house and her childhood faded from view.

The drive went too quickly, and along the way Connor shared his iPod with her, playing songs they both loved and making her laugh the way he always had. As if this were only a trip to pick up their aunt from Texas or a drive to her father’s training facility. But all too soon they were at the airport, and they were forced into a final round of goodbyes.

Her dad went first. He hugged her and stroked the back of her head. “You’ll always be my little girl, Bailey.” He didn’t try to hold back his tears this time. They filled his eyes and fell onto his rugged face. “A part of me wants to beg you not to go.” He
blinked, struggling to see her. “But I can’t do that. You’re ready.” He brushed away her tears with his thumb. “No matter how hard this is, you’re ready.” He hugged her again. “Be the brightest light on Broadway, sweetheart.” He took a step back, and he put his hand over his heart. Like she was taking a piece of him with her. “I’ll leave the light on, okay?”

“Okay.” She watched him hug her mother goodbye, and the two of them talked about the details. When they would arrive, and how she would be sure to call him when they got there safely.

Bailey turned to Connor. He had laughed with her right until the moment they pulled up at the airport drop-off. And even now … his hands tucked in his pockets … Connor didn’t cry. He held his arms out to her and pulled her close.

This was the hardest part of all — the fact that she wouldn’t have Connor there. And suddenly in a rush the finality of the goodbye, the transition between all they’d known growing up together and the uncertainties of tomorrow loomed like the greatest hurt she’d ever felt. Sobs wracked her body and she clung to him, as if by holding on she might find a way to turn back the clock. Even for one more day.

“I can’t … believe … you’re so strong.” She was getting tears on his sweatshirt, but neither of them cared. He didn’t answer her, so she wiped at her tears and looked up at him. Only then did she see how difficult this was for Connor too. He was crying as hard as any of them. Maybe harder.

He kissed her cheek and took a step back. His eyes told her that he loved her and he wanted to go with her, and he couldn’t imagine finishing up his last two years of high school without her. Couldn’t imagine the long Friday nights without swapping movie lines or watching the latest funny video on YouTube.

But he only smiled at her through his tears and nodded at her. Nodded as if to say she was doing the right thing. She’d found her dream, and she needed to follow it. He raised his hand and waved
once, his eyes so like hers. Then he climbed into the passenger seat of the Suburban and brought his fist to his face. Their dad was already at the wheel, and with Connor’s door shut, the two of them drove off.

Bailey waved until they were gone, and then she fell into her mom’s arms and the two of them stayed that way nearly a minute, until they were composed enough to head inside and check in. Then and through the security line, and even as they took their seats on the plane, she and her mom said very little. Their goodbye was still days off, and for now both of them were too sad to talk about the significance of this moment.

The way it marked the end of her growing up years.

She took the window seat, and her mom sat in the middle. They leaned on each other, and when she saw tears on her mom’s cheeks, Bailey held her hand until the sadness passed. It was like her mother had told her yesterday: Everyone in her family was happy for her — thrilled, even. She was going to do what she was born to do.

But that didn’t make it easier to say goodbye.

Bailey looked out the window as the plane took off and headed east. Her mom leaned back, her eyes closed … emotionally drained from all the leaving. But Bailey couldn’t sleep. Eventually her cheeks dried, and her skin felt tight from so many tears. Her nose was still stuffy, but a realization dawned on her.

It’s really happening … Dear God, You’ve opened this door and now it’s my time to walk through it. How great You are, Father … to trust me with this chance.

I am with you always, Daughter … No matter how far.

The voice spread peace through her heart and soul, and made her smile. Yes, she would miss her family. There would no doubt be nights when she cried herself to sleep like BJ was bound to do. But that didn’t change the fact that this coming time in New York was a gift from God. Bailey breathed in slowly and looked out
the window again. As she exhaled, she thought about the guys in her life.

Brandon Paul … and Cody, of course.

Always Cody.

She had no idea what would happen with them, or who would follow after her once she reached New York City. No idea who she would love in the years to come. But she knew this much — God had great plans for her life. Jeremiah 29:11 promised her that. And, even more, she could rest in the fact that God was in control. He would soothe her heart when she missed her family, and He would help her give her heart to the right guy … all in His perfect timing. For now, He would give her the ability and stamina to start rehearsals for
Hairspray
and do the one thing her father had asked of her.

Be the brightest light on Broadway.

Bailey felt the excitement rising within her, and suddenly — more than the missing and sadness and saying goodbye, she was consumed by a single thought.

She couldn’t wait for the adventure to begin.