Take Two (22 page)

Ben bowed his head. “We have much to be thankful for, much to ask of our Mighty God. We never imagined we’d be here, on the
verge of a making a movie that the world will want to see, a movie that has the power to bring new life to everyone who sees
it.”

His prayer went on another minute and it ended with Stephanie adding a few heartfelt words. “
Unlocked
is a movie that could change the way people think. It could send them running into Your arms if we do things right.” She
spent a few seconds thanking God, praising Him. “We come before You, ready to hear Your voice. Whatever You ask. In Jesus’
name.”

“Amen.” Kendall clapped, immediately releasing Chase’s hand. She grinned at the others. “The glory of God. That’s the only
reason we’re all here.”

Chase tried to forget the attraction he’d felt earlier. There could be nothing more than friendship and business between him
and Kendall. They were going to do what they’d set out to do, taking Hollywood by storm. And along the way they would accomplish
the only goal that really mattered.

The goal to change lives with the power of film.

T
HE NIGHT HAD GONE BETTER THAN
Kendall ever imagined — with the exception of one thing. Her attraction to Chase. She’d already warned herself about him,
but she had to be more careful. Not that there was any real danger. He was happily married, and she wouldn’t consider crossing
the line of friendship. Her faith and her past wouldn’t allow even the hint of that. But still she needed to watch herself.

The movie had been amazing, of course, as she’d known it would be.

After Brandon and Stephanie left, Kendall’s father took off too. That left Kendall, Keith, and Chase. Kendall wasn’t ready
to call it a night. They still had the first draft of the screenplay to look over. She led them into a softly lit den and
produced three copies of the script, one for each of them. Before they got started, Keith excused himself so he could call
home. Kendall thought about telling Chase that maybe he should call home too. After all, this was exactly the sort of alone
moment with Chase she needed to avoid. But she didn’t want to seem too personal, so she took the farthest seat from Chase.

As he looked over the script, Kendall studied him and realized again that he was very attractive. He would stand out in the
industry once he and Keith made a name for themselves. His athletic build and chiseled face would become recognizable in no
time, and there would be offers to stray. Dramatic offers. She knew because they’d come her way more than once. She bit her
lip and felt compelled to pray for him.

Please, God, help him be strong when temptation comes. Help me too. We need to stay close to You.

She leaned on the arm of the sofa. “Tell me about your wife. She must be wonderful, holding down things at home while you’re
out here following your dream.”

“She is.” Chase hesitated, but only briefly. “She’s my best friend. I hope someday soon we can move down here. Then she can
come to meetings like this, and at the end of the day we can be home together.” He looked more composed than earlier, when
they went for the water in the garage. “I think you’d like her.”

“Me too.” Kendall ignored the hint of envy. “It’s rare, being married to your best friend.” Kendall wasn’t sure now was the
time to tell Chase about her own sad past. Maybe later, when Keith was with them. The guys would both benefit from hearing
the story at some point. For now she only wanted Chase to know she supported his marriage. “Don’t ever let this business get
in the way of what matters. It happens too often.”

He smiled, and determination resonated in his expression. “Keith calls it the pizza-crust philosophy. Fix the small breaks
along the edges so you don’t get a crack straight down the middle.”

She laughed out loud and nodded. “Exactly.”

Keith joined them again, and they reviewed the highlights of the screenplay. They talked another hour about the pacing of
Unlocked
and how crazy things were bound to get. But long after the guys left, Kendall continued to pray for them. She went outside
and sat on her patio deck, staring at the stars overhead and begging God to protect them against the devil’s schemes. They
were playing with high stakes and there were bound to be pitfalls along the way. Disappointments and discouragement, distraction
and temptations.

She peered up at the vast sky and felt the closeness of the Lord. “God, please help me make this experience one that glorifies
You,” she whispered. “Help me do my part to keep all of us walking the narrow path.” Her own personal life might not have
been a shining example of God’s love and commitment. But she couldn’t help that. What she could do was help her new friends
stay the course.

Because it would do no good to win the world through the message of a movie only to lose themselves in the process.

A
NOTHER MONTH HAD PASSED AND STILL
Cody was getting nowhere with Bailey. He was stuck in the middle of a debate in his sociology class, and his leg ached where
the prosthetic piece fit up against his flesh — a sign the weather was about to change. Last week’s warm temperatures had
dropped so that here, at the end of March, winter felt like it had never given an inch in its tug-of-war with spring.

“What I’m saying is I can’t support our troops in a situation like the war in Iraq. Our nation is practically fascist the
way it attacks other nations without reason.” The student speaker was a wiry guy with glasses and a loud voice. He had short
hair and a clean-cut look that defied his views. “It’s not about patriotism, it’s about common sense.” He was on his feet,
staring down anyone who dared differ with him. “No one forced those men and women to enlist. They knew what they were getting
into when they signed up. A losing conflict, and an ill-fated attempt at tearing down a society because of nothing more than
fear.”

Cody rolled his eyes. Since the spring quarter had begun, the professor had little control of the class. Days that were earmarked
for lectures often became all-out debates, typically on topics involving war or terrorism or the rights of Americans to express
their dislike of the United States. The professor was a woman who liked to point out that half of Hollywood would’ve left
the country if the wrong president had won the recent election. Nearly every debate was sparked by the guy with the glasses.
Peter something. Cody couldn’t remember his name.

“How about that, class?” The professor’s political viewpoint could swing either way. She sat behind her desk, her hands folded.
Outside a chill wind whistled against the windows of the classroom. “Anyone have a differing viewpoint?”

Cody preferred to think about Bailey, about finding a way to connect with her again. He didn’t want the task of facing off
with the radical kid in his class, but someone had to do it. He hadn’t gone to Iraq and lost his leg so that he could take
a backseat when his country’s freedom was being discussed. “I was one of those guys who enlisted in the army after high school.”

A hush fell over the class. Across the room, Peter slowly took his seat, one eyebrow raised suspiciously in Cody’s direction.
The professor nodded. “Go on, Cody.”

“I enlisted because I believe in the United States of America, in her freedoms for all people, and in her strength as a nation
of peace, prosperity, and human dignity.” His voice took on a strength that built as he continued. “I enlisted because I was
then, and I am now, willing to risk my life to defend this nation. Because this country will fall into enemy hands if our
generation is not willing to take a stand.”

“Rhetoric,” Peter mumbled under his breath.

“No.” Cody’s voice sharpened. He stood and took a step toward his fellow classmate. “Not rhetoric. The battle for freedom
is real, one that requires people to act on what’s right.”

“War in Iraq?” The kid didn’t seem as sure of himself as before. “That’s what you think is right?”

“No war is right, but sometimes …” Cody shifted to take some of the pressure off his prosthetic leg. “Sometimes war is necessary.
In order to defend the privileges and freedoms we have as Americans.”

He paused, not sure if he should go on. Finally he decided he’d said enough, but even as he lowered himself to his seat, a
few guys at the far end of the classroom stood and began to clap. A girl and another guy joined them, and then most of the
front two rows. Ten seconds passed while one student after another rose to their feet and joined in the applause. Finally
only Cody and Peter and the professor remained seated.

The outpouring was more than Cody had imagined, and it touched him deeply. Even so, by the time the class was over, Cody felt
exhausted, drained from the emotional battle of defending himself and his decision to serve. He was finished with his classes
for the day, and he needed fresh air to clear his head. Snow still clung to the ground in patches, but the grass showed through
along the campus mall. He took the long way around, purposefully walking past the football stadium and the practice field.
A group of guys dressed in sweats were throwing the ball, working with a couple of coaches near the fifty yardline.

Cody stopped and watched.

Wasn’t it just yesterday that he’d been the guy throwing the ball? Before Iraq, before he lost his leg? Back then he and Bailey
had been more like brother and sister, and he’d known for sure he’d play football at the college level somewhere. But the
offers didn’t come the way Cody had imagined, and with his home life a mess, enlisting seemed like the best option. It still
seemed that way.

While he was in Iraq his existence had centered around surviving one day to the next. But now that he was home … his ideas
about the future had shifted with every quarter. He’d thought about being a doctor, and then maybe a firefighter or a paramedic
— if they’d take him with his prosthetic lower leg. He even considered going into law so he could help defend freedom in a
different way.

But standing here facing the football field, he felt a certain familiarity, one that had filled him and consumed him more
often lately. He wanted to be a football coach. Like Jim Flanigan, he wanted to spend his days around the game he loved, influencing
kids so that a generation of young men would grow up understanding sacrifice, hard work, and dedication. The sorts of things
that came through in the game of football.

Yes, that’s what he wanted to do. He would teach high school history and coach football, and he would pray to be an influence
for generations of kids like himself. Kids drawn to drinking and partying, kids with little or no family influence who would
be lost without the coaches and role models in their lives.

His vision blurred and he could almost see himself working with the quarterbacks and receivers, teaching them how to look
for the open man and throw a ball downfield.

Teaching them about life.

He kept walking and as he turned away from the football field, another image came to mind. The face of Bailey Flanigan. She
had to be part of this future too. But she was still dating Tim, still barely returning his text messages, and rarely answering
his calls. She had a wall up around her heart, and he didn’t know how to tear it down. If he could convince her to trust him
again, then he could figure out her relationship with Tim, whether she was really in love with him. A thought that terrified
him.

He kept his eyes down as he walked the path to the parking lot and found his car. He needed time away from campus, away from
his constant search for Bailey between classes. He had a new job at the grocery store in Clear Creek, bagging food and helping
people out to their cars. It paid more than the last one and helped him keep up his end of the rent. But today he had four
hours before his shift, so he took the turn to Lake Monroe.

The leaves were just starting to bud out on the trees that lined the two-lane highway. Spring wanted a chance, if only the
cold temperatures would let up. He reached the water and parked in his favorite lot, the one near the footpath that circled
the lake. For five minutes he walked hard and fast over the trail, ignoring the pain in his leg, until he reached an outcropping
of rock, a place where he’d come before to think and talk to God. He walked out onto it and sat down on a smooth, flat area.
A breeze blew across the water and stung at his eyes, but he didn’t care.

God, I have so many questions. So many unknowns about tomorrow.
He squinted against the wind and lifted his eyes to the clear blue beyond the lake.
Your Word says You have great plans for me, to give me a future and hope and not to harm me. But how do I know which way to
turn?

My son, do not be troubled … Do not be afraid …

The words whispered to him in the rustling of tree branches on either side of the rocky point. As if God were indeed here
with him, holding him up and encouraging him.

Sometimes he wanted a new start, a new university a thousand miles away from Bailey and his life in Bloomington. A place where
people wouldn’t know him as the GI who came home without his lower left leg. Where he wouldn’t have to look for Bailey every
time he walked out of class. But then, he’d only miss her more.

She belongs to someone else, God. Why can’t I get her out of my head?

Wait on me, my son. Remember the fruits of the Spirit.

Cody closed his eyes and the words came back to him, words Jenny Flanigan had drilled into the minds of her kids, including
him when he lived with them.
Love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, thoughtfulness, and self control.
“If you truly seek God’s plans for your life,” she would tell them every day or so, “then your life will show fruit.” And
she’d go into the list again.
Love, joy, peace …

Patience was one of the fruits, but Cody was tired of being patient. He had a few friends, guys he’d played football with
at Clear Creek High, but most of the old team was into heavy partying now. He’d rather stay home and study. But today — today
he wanted the friendship of Bailey and her family so intensely he could feel the ache with every breath.