Someday: 3 (Sunrise) (11 page)

She hung her head and shielded her eyes.
I’m sorry. . . . I want those feelings to be for Luke only, Lord. Save us from where things are headed . . . please.

The truth of her sudden feelings for another man horrified her and sent her scrambling off the sofa to the nearest phone. Marriage was sacred, and like Elizabeth had written in her letter, it took work. Reagan returned to the sofa, her fingers already punching in the numbers. It didn’t matter whether he had a business meeting or was at a fancy dinner.

She needed to talk to her husband now, before another moment came between them.

Luke crossed the street at Broadway and 47th and headed toward 52nd Street and the August Wilson Theater. The city was fast and exhilarating. Days like this he missed it more than he remembered.

“How much longer?” Sandy, the young woman beside him, flashed him a smile.

“Not far.” He grinned at her. “Besides, the walk’s good for us.”

“Wait a minute.” From Luke’s other side, James van Kelp III, in his late thirties and one of the firm’s top attorneys, huffed along. “That’s what Luke always says.” He worked to keep pace with Luke and Sandy and the flow of pedestrian traffic on Broadway. “You fitness buffs are all the same! I say hail a cab.”

“Ah, come on.” Luke winked at him, then swapped a look with Sandy. “The firm encourages exercise. I get the memos.”

“Okay, okay,” James exaggerated a few huffs and wiped at his brow. “Five more blocks, right?”

Tonight they were seeing
Jersey Boys
, based on the music of the Four Seasons. The play had been James’s idea, but only Luke and Sandy were willing to join him in the last-minute hunt for tickets. Now, with third-row seats in hand, they had just twenty minutes until showtime.

As they walked, Luke noticed the occasional half an instant when his elbow would brush against the arm of the woman beside him. He tried to feel bad about the experience, but the moment felt too good for regrets. Besides, he was doing nothing wrong. Sandy was the new paralegal at the office, and the two had struck up a friendship over Luke’s last few business trips. She thought he looked like Dayne Matthews, and he felt bigger than life in her presence. It was harmless, nothing he wouldn’t have allowed if he’d still worked in New York. Sandy was single, but she knew he was married. As long as they stayed in group settings like the one they were in tonight, Luke couldn’t find a reason to feel guilty.

“Anyone have a favorite Four Seasons song?” James was talkative, and tonight was no exception.

Luke exchanged a quick grin with Sandy. “‘My Eyes Adored You.’ That’s mine, hands down.”

“Strange.” Sandy’s expression turned playful. “That’s mine too.”

“Ah, you gotta be crazy!” James gestured into the evening air. “‘Sherry’ is the best, no doubt! And there’s that one about December 1963, where . . .”

He was still going on about the song when Luke’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and saw it was Reagan. He could ignore her call, but that wouldn’t make the evening out easier to explain. He held up the phone and his index finger; then he dropped back some from the others. “Hello?”

There was a pause at the other end before her voice finally filled the line. “Luke?”

“Yeah, hi, honey.” A few feet away, a cabdriver laid on his horn, and another responded. Luke tried to shield the receiver. “How’s it going?”

“Not that well.” She hesitated again. “Where are you?”

He had nothing to hide; he’d done nothing wrong. “Broadway. A few of us are headed to a show.”

“A show?” She waited a few seconds before she released a laugh completely devoid of humor. “You’re seeing a Broadway play?”

“
Jersey Boys . . .
remember? The story of the Four Seasons?” In the background, Luke could hear the sounds of Tommy shouting something about a game and Malin’s shrill protests. He tried to sound upbeat. “What’s going on?”

For a few seconds, Luke was sure she was going to lay into him. Instead, she uttered a weary moan. “Not much . . . now that the paramedics are gone. Tommy got his head stuck between the spindles on the stair railing.”

Luke slowed his pace and brought his free hand to his eyes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. How could that happen?” As soon as he said the words, he realized how they sounded. “I mean, I’m not saying you could’ve stopped him, but . . . why did he do it?”

“He thought he was a lion.” Reagan’s tone was colder than it had been only seconds ago. “Never mind. I’ll catch you up later. Go enjoy your show.”

Sandy turned around just then and moved closer to him. “Is it this block or next?”

“Next.” Luke held his finger to his lips and tried to convey with his expression the importance of the phone call.

She mouthed, “Sorry” and slipped back alongside James.

“Who was that?” There wasn’t a trace of understanding in Reagan’s voice.

“Sandy, from the office. She’s part of the group.” He sounded defensive, and he worked to come across more relaxed. “James van Kelp had the idea. A bunch of us got tickets since I don’t fly home until tomorrow.”

“Great, Luke.” Reagan raised her voice so she could be heard over Tommy’s shouting. “That’s my cue. Talk to you later.”

Reagan hung up before he could say good-bye, and any feelings of guilt quickly became anger. What right did she have to be angry with him? He made the money, didn’t he? It was his hard work that allowed her to be a stay-at-home mom and live in one of the finer homes on their block. And yes, that meant he had to travel now and then, but what did she expect? He should go back to his hotel room the minute work was done?

He closed his phone, shoved it in his pocket, and rolled his eyes. Then he picked up his pace until he was between James and Sandy once more.

“Everything okay at home?” Sandy’s question held no guile, no hidden meaning. But it struck a nerve all the same.

Luke clenched his jaw and looked straight ahead. “As good as it can be.”

“But not nearly as good as a live Broadway play!” James clapped a few times; then at the top of his lungs he began to sing, “‘Sherry, Sherry baby, She-e-e-e-e-e-rry ba-a-by . . .’”

Anywhere else James would’ve drawn at least a few disapproving stares. But not in New York City and especially not on Broadway. No one in the stream of people headed the opposite direction even seemed to notice.

James laughed. “See that! I shoulda been a Broadway star!”

The play was racier than Luke had imagined it would be. People his age thought of the Four Seasons as a group of sweet-natured teens whose innocent songs and stage presence represented their generation. But the show was riddled with crass language and references to promiscuity and adultery.

Leading up to the song “Oh, What a Night” was a reference to a one-night stand that a member of the group wanted to remember. Luke wasn’t sure if it was coincidental or not, but as the song got under way, Sandy put her elbow up on the armrest against his. It took him several seconds before he moved his arm and longer to get his mind back on the play.

Later, when James and Sandy had caught a cab back to Midtown and Luke had returned to the hotel, he wondered about himself and the night with his distant coworkers. In the past, a play like
Jersey Boys
would’ve made him sorry he’d wasted his money. He would’ve been critical of any married man who took in a play sitting beside a single woman, even in a group setting. Which just went to show how far he’d come. Not necessarily how far he’d allowed himself to fall but just how different he was.

Because after he phoned the front desk for an early wake-up call, and as he hit the pillow that night, he wasn’t plagued with guilt or regret or even a sense of uneasiness. He and Reagan were in trouble; he was aware of that fact. That’s why he enjoyed himself so much tonight. He liked traveling. The time away gave him a break from the tension at home.

In fact, Dayne had called earlier with some of the best news yet. Several weeks from now, a day of downtime had been scheduled on the set in Mexico—not enough time for Dayne to fly home but enough to get business done. Dayne’s manager was meeting him on the set, and he wanted Luke there too. On the beach in Mexico.

Luke could hardly wait. At least he was doing well professionally. Only in his personal life did he seem to have the uncanny knack for disappointing people. Or maybe people simply expected too much from him.

“Why can’t you be more like your dad?” Reagan had asked him before he left for New York. The question grated on his nerves and kept him awake. Was that what she wanted? For him to be just like his father? No one was as wonderful as the great John Baxter. Not even Dayne Matthews. Why couldn’t she be happy being married to him, just the way he was, without heaping a mountain of expectations on his shoulders?

He would never be like his father. He’d already blown that opportunity. Not only on a chill fall night in September, the day before the Twin Towers collapsed, but in the way he handled himself for a year afterwards. He would live with that truth until the day he died.

Luke sighed. Whatever. He and Reagan would work things out somehow. He would bring her a dozen roses from the airport florist, and they would remind themselves that having young kids was hard on any marriage. This season would eventually pass, and then they would find the love and laughter they’d left behind.

In the meantime, it couldn’t hurt to see a play with friends who enjoyed his company. He yawned and rolled onto his side. He pictured Sandy, the carefree way she had about her, the sincerity in her smile. It was nice to hang out with someone who didn’t resent him the way Reagan seemed to.

As he fell asleep, he reminded himself that he didn’t have to recount the night for Reagan or apologize for his behavior tonight.

Why should he? He hadn’t done a single thing wrong.

It was the third Friday night football game of the season and the first one at home. Like her friends who were in their last year of high school, Bailey Flanigan wore the school’s blue and white colors and a T-shirt with the word
Senior
stenciled across the front. The game hadn’t started yet, but even so, the air was alive, filled with an electric sort of giddiness. Clear Creek was the defending league champion, and tonight would be the most difficult test of the season.

The atmosphere was everything a Friday night game should be—the crash of the marching band cymbals, thick burgers on the grill in front of the concession stand, and the singsong chants from the cheerleading squad. But even with the excitement around her and despite all that was at stake for her dad’s football team, Bailey could think of only one thing.

Cody Coleman should’ve been here.

If not on the field, then one of the team’s best receivers in school history should’ve been on the bench beside her, cheering for Clear Creek and making plans for a late-night movie back at the Flanigans’ house. Or down on the field next to her dad, watching the game from the sidelines and doing whatever he could to help out.

But definitely not sleeping in a tent in Iraq, worn-out from another day policing the streets in Baghdad.

“You okay?” Connor was beside her, scouting the stands for his friends. His freshman football team made a plan to sit together for the varsity games. “You seem sorta out of it.”

“I am.” She tried to smile, but it fell short. “I miss Cody.”

“Oh.” Connor nodded slowly and faced the field.

The team was warming up, the guys in three straight lines, with their dad and Ryan Taylor and the other coaches in their baseball caps and sweats walking between the lines, keeping the players on task.

Bailey tried to change the subject. “Think you’ll play all four years?”

Connor narrowed his eyes, and at first he said nothing. He was a good-looking kid, with their dad’s dark hair and broad shoulders and their mom’s blue eyes. “Football’s okay.” He gave her a lopsided grin, but his eyes held a thoughtfulness that hadn’t been there before. “It’s not like CKT.”

“No.” Bailey stared out at the field. “We would have practice tomorrow, if . . .”

“If things were different.”

“Yeah.” She pictured the community theater, roped off with caution tape. An article in the local paper said the developer had plans to tear down the old building. “I still can’t believe it’s all behind us. The plays and auditions . . . the rehearsals. Katy. Even the theater.” A sad, ironic laugh sounded on her lips. “It’s like some kind of bad dream.”

“Only every time we wake up it’s the same thing.” Connor breathed in deep and put his arm around Bailey’s shoulders. “Maybe we’re supposed to start it up again when we grow up.”

“Maybe.”

“Only . . . by then it’ll be too late for our group.” Connor slumped a little. “A bunch of the guys in the locker room were talking about Leslie and Lisa, the twins.”

Bailey knew where this was headed. The girls were juniors, and until now they’d been very active in CKT. But without a place to stay involved, they’d changed their image and become partiers. “They’re getting around?” She winced as she waited for his answer.

“Yeah, a lot. According to the guys, anyway.” Connor released his hold on her and looked again for his buddies. “Everyone cusses in the locker room. I hate that part.”

Bailey sighed. “Does Dad know?”

“I talked to him. Cussing isn’t allowed at the varsity level. Dad says it’s a reflection on the coaches, so he’s gonna talk to the freshman coach.”

“Hmmm.” Bailey studied him. “Definitely not CKT.”

“No.” Connor stood and pointed at a few guys one section down and two over. “There they are.” He patted her on the back. “See ya later.”

“See ya.” Bailey felt a hint of sadness as her brother ran off. CKT had bonded them, turned them into the best of friends. It hadn’t hit her until just now that she and Connor hadn’t spent the same amount of time together. Connor hung out mainly with the freshmen, so their school friends ran in different circles. And by the time he came home from football practice each day, she was in her room doing homework.

Back when there was CKT, the two of them would congregate in his room or hers, listening to the current show’s practice CD, laughing about the silly things that had happened at rehearsal, and guessing at whether they’d be ready by opening night. They shared none of that now. She and Connor would always be friends but not the way they’d been when their entire social lives were lived one show at a time.

Their close relationship was one more casualty, and suddenly Bailey felt the loss of CKT like never before.

A couple of her girlfriends scampered up the bleachers and filled in the spot where Connor had been. The conversation was shallow and full of drama. Who was planning to get drunk tonight and which of their friends was moving in on whose boyfriend. Bailey sat in the midst of them, but she said only an occasional word here or there. For the most part, she pretended to be focused on the close game, which Clear Creek won by a touchdown with a minute left.

Connor went to the house of one of the freshman players later for a team sleepover. By the time Bailey got home, the younger boys were lost in a Star Wars movie, and her mother was working on a magazine article.

When Bailey walked in, her mom pushed back her chair and rubbed her eyes. “Well?” She smiled. “Did we win?”

“By seven.” Bailey stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Can you talk a bit?”

“Sure.” Her mom stood and pushed the chair in. “Writing can wait.”

“Thanks.” Bailey moved into the kitchen. “I’ll make coffee.”

“Perfect.” Rapid fire came from the television in the next room, and their mom turned toward the boys. “Let’s turn it down a little.”

“Yes, Mom.” Justin was often the spokesman for “the brothers,” as they liked to call themselves. “But we can’t hear with you guys talking.”

“We’ll go in the dining room.” Their mom smiled, but her voice held a no-nonsense tone. “But keep it down.” She made a funny face. “It feels like a spaceship’s landing on the roof.”

All four boys laughed, and Justin did as she asked.

When Bailey and her mom both had a cup of coffee, they moved into the dining room and took chairs facing each other.

Bailey’s mother tilted her head, her expression sympathetic. “Something happen at the game?”

“Not really.” Bailey felt tears spring to her eyes, and she wasn’t even sure why. “It’s just . . . everything feels so different.”

“Hmmm.” Her mom took a sip of coffee. “Seems to be a familiar theme around here.”

“Yeah.” Bailey settled back in her chair. “I guess I’m missing Cody. In his last letter he tried to hide it, but I could tell. He’s worried about being over there.”

“We’re all concerned.”

Bailey nodded. She was glad her mom didn’t dismiss her fears. Bailey’s faith wasn’t wavering, and she would certainly continue to pray every day for Cody. But that didn’t mean he would come home safely. War was dangerous; it was okay to be afraid for someone like Cody. “And I guess I’m a little mad at Katy.”

“Why?” Her mom’s voice grew slightly curious.

Bailey cupped her hands around the hot mug in front of her. The warm days had given way to cooler nights, and her fingers were still chilled from the game. She looked at her mother. “She didn’t have to take that next movie. She could’ve stayed here and found someplace for CKT—don’t you think? I mean, the Clear Creek auditorium might’ve been an option if she would’ve tried.”

“Bethany tried more than once with the administration. There wasn’t room in the schedule.” Her mom’s tone was sympathetic. “CKT is
your
dream, sweetheart. Katy’s dream is to try her hand at a film career.”

“It isn’t just my dream.” Bailey’s response was quick. “It’s mine and Connor’s and the other hundred kids in this town who need a Christian theater group.”

“True.” Her mom set her coffee cup down on the table. “So does that mean Katy doesn’t have a right to her dream?”

“You saw
For Real
.” Bailey tossed her hands in the air. “Katy’s putting her marriage on the line. She’s risking everything and leaving us behind, and for what? For a shot at being famous?” She was talking too loud, and she stopped herself. “I’m sorry. It just doesn’t seem right.”

For a while they sat there, not speaking, taking an occasional sip from their coffees. Then her mom drew a slow breath. “I feel that way sometimes. And when I pray about Katy and Dayne, I have this sense—a very strong sense.”

“A sense of what?”

“That God’s still working on Katy.” Her smile was warm, reassuring. “That the story of Katy and Dayne isn’t finished yet.”

Bailey let her hands fall on the arms of the chair. “Yeah. I guess I never thought about it that way.”

“But I understand. You and Connor are missing CKT.” She reached one hand across the table. “You’re missing sharing it together.”

“Exactly.” Bailey took hold of her mom’s fingers. “Like I said, nothing feels the same.”

They talked a few minutes longer, with Bailey catching her mom up on the kids at school, the ones who were out that very night drinking and making choices that could live with them forever. “One thing, though.” Bailey felt her eyes light up. “The football team’s not drinking. Dad’s made a real impact with those guys.”

“It’s a year-to-year thing. Every group of kids needs the message.” Her mom stood and cleared their coffee cups. As she did, she gave Bailey a half hug. “I love you, honey. I know it doesn’t seem like it tonight, but God has a plan. Even with all the uncertainties.”

Bailey leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. “I like to think so.”

“He does, sweetie. That’s the thrill of life—watching what amazing thing God’s going to do next.” She kissed Bailey’s cheek. “For all of us.” She nodded toward the TV room. “I’m going to go watch a little Star Wars. Ricky saved me a spot.”

“Okay.” Bailey walked with her mom into the kitchen. “Thanks for talking.”

“Always.” Her mom grinned and then joined the boys. “I didn’t miss the best part, did I?”

As Bailey headed for her bedroom, her mother’s idea of watching and waiting for what amazing thing God was going to do next stayed with her. It was a good thought, a way of holding on when life seemed so unsure.

There was more in Bailey’s heart than she’d been able to voice tonight, talks that would wait for another day. Like what she was going to do after she graduated and whether she would go to Indiana University or away to New York City or Los Angeles, where she and Connor sometimes dreamed of going. With applications to universities due in the next few months, Bailey and her parents had already discussed her options a number of times. Always Bailey came to the same conclusion. She would make her decision later.

But now that she’d started her senior year, later was right around the corner.

She dropped to her bed and reached beneath it for the box of letters Cody had sent her since he left. His words never came across as romantic. He made no promises and asked for none in return. But he cared about her. That much came across with every letter he wrote.

His latest note was on top. Bailey pulled it from the stack and eased it from its envelope. The letter started with a recap of basic training and how glad he was to be finished with the all-day drills.

Bailey smiled at the picture of Cody in a room with so many guys. It would’ve felt a lot like the locker room back at Clear Creek—the same smells and noises and easy laughter. In a house full of boys, Bailey could picture the scene well. Her eyes moved down the page.

Anxiety quickened her heart rate, and she directed her attention to the photo on her nightstand, the one of Cody and her the day before he left. She kept it close so she’d remember to pray for him. And maybe because it helped her remember how right it felt with his arm around her shoulders.

God, keep him safe. He needs You every minute out there.

She looked back at the letter.

Waiting for your next letter,

Cody

Bailey considered the meaning of his words. He could be home sooner if the war ended, if the president ordered the troops to pull out. That must be what he meant. But reading his words sent a strange feeling through her, almost like a premonition. He would also come home sooner if he was injured, or if . . .