Take One (22 page)

And second, because no matter how wonderful she was, she would never be the girl he really wanted.

A girl who could only be Bailey Flanigan.

Twenty

K
ELLY
R
YAN OPENED THE WINDOW OF
their three-bedroom house and felt the warm autumn afternoon air move by her. Fall in San Jose was absolutely perfect. A
hint of color in the trees, the distant mountains and hills clear against the blue sky, and the countryside dotted with fully
ripe vineyards, ready for harvest season or “crush” as the locals called it. Kelly stared out the window and sighed. None
of it looked as beautiful as usual this time around for one reason.

Chase was two thousand miles away.

Last night’s talk hadn’t ended well. He was exhausted from the showdown with the union, and he admitted that with the setback
in filming, they didn’t have enough money to finish the film.

“What?” She didn’t want to sound alarmed. She’d done everything she could to support his decision to make this movie. She
managed the house and the girls and their life back in San Jose by herself and tried to understand when he couldn’t call until
late each night. But this was exactly what she’d feared all along. If they ran out of money, they’d have to repay something
to the investors. Bankruptcy was almost a certainty.

She felt her stomach tighten, something that had been happening often lately.
God … is this really why you brought us here? To get caught up in the weirdness of Hollywood only to lose everything?

An answer would’ve been nice, an assurance that if the Lord owned the cattle on a thousand hills, certainly He could send
a few investors their way. But God hadn’t been sending answers or investors—not lately. Kelly breathed in the warm air and
tried to will away the heaviness in her heart. Nothing about herself or her life felt right, and she no longer had any idea
how to escape the dark clouds around her.

“Mommy, come see my picture!” Molly’s sing-song voice rang out through the house. “Hurry, Mommy. ’Fore Macy rips it up!”

She fought against the weariness as she headed toward the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Coming, baby.” She rounded the corner
and there was Molly, sitting on her knees at their old wooden kitchen table. The surface wobbled as she worked her blue crayon
across the top of the page.

“The table’s breaking, I think.” Molly pushed her straight blonde hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. Then
she peered under the table and gave the nearest leg a shake. “Yep, it’s breaking.”

Kelly tried not to let the news discourage her. They’d bought the table at a garage sale when they first returned from Indonesia.
Fifty bucks, including four chairs. She came closer and sat next to her four-year-old. “Daddy will fix it when he gets back.”

She cocked her head, her big blue eyes wide with concern. “When does he get back again? Tomorrow?”

“No, baby. A few more weeks.”

“Oh.” She frowned and then turned her attention back to her drawing. “Weeks are a long time.” She pointed to her drawing.
“See this? I made it for Daddy.”

Kelly studied the intricate picture. “Let’s see … that’s you, right? With the long blonde hair?”

“Right.” She pointed at the other stick figure, this one much taller, larger than life. “And this one’s Daddy. It’s a picture
of when we see each other again.” She pointed to the blue sky and bright yellow sun. “See? It’s the happiest day ever!”

At that moment, Macy came tearing into the room, her baby doll high in the air. She had the toy stretched out in front of
her, flying the doll around the house. While she ran, she made a low rumbling sound like a jet, and when she reached Molly,
she swept the doll in low over her paper.

“Don’t!” Molly shielded her artwork with her body and glared at her sister. “See, Mommy. I told you Macy’s gonna rip it.”

“Mace, sweetie … let’s calm down a little.” Kelly wanted to go in the other room, lay down, and sleep until morning. And it
was only two in the afternoon.

“Baby’s flying.” Macy stopped and sent Kelly a pleading look. “Please, Mama … baby likes flying.” Macy had talked well since
before her second birthday last spring. With Molly as her role model, she did everything she could to keep up.

“Okay, but you can’t fly your baby over Molly’s picture.” Kelly had no idea where her youngest had gotten such an idea. Flying
babies. “Why’s your baby flying, anyway?”

A smile lit up Macy’s face. “To see Daddy!”

Kelly wasn’t sure if it was the weariness in her soul or the way both her daughters clearly missed their father, but Macy’s
answer brought tears to her eyes. Tired, angry tears. Chase should’ve been home with them, not off chasing some crazy idea
that was going to send them to financial ruin.

Molly looked at her and touched her fingertips to Kelly’s cheek. “Are you sad, Mommy? Because of Daddy?”

“Yes, baby. I want him to come home, too.” She had to find a way to lift the mood. Otherwise none of them were going to make
it. “Okay, girls … how ’bout some lemonade?”

The girls bounced in place and let out a string of happy cries and shouts.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She owed it to her daughters to keep things as normal as possible, happy and centered around a
routine. They still did devotions each morning and read storybooks about princesses at night. But after last night’s talk
with Chase, Kelly wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep a happy face—even for the girls. She measured out three scoops
of powdered lemonade mix in a plastic pitcher, and coughed a few times when the fine yellow powder filled her nose.

Molly spun around. “You’re not getting sick, are you Mommy?”

“No, baby. I’m fine.” She laughed despite the heartache she was feeling. Molly was the caretaker of the two, looking out not
only for Macy, but for everyone in the family. If anyone sneezed or coughed or held their hand to their head, she wanted to
know immediately if there was a problem.

They sipped lemonade while Molly moved on to another picture—this one for Kelly—and Macy continued to fly her baby doll through
the living room. With every minute that passed, Kelly tried to convince herself she was fine, that this was only a phase in
life, a season. One day soon Chase would come home and they would sort through the financial aftermath. Even if they went
bankrupt over the failed movie, they would find their way to the surface again someday. That’s what Christians did, right?
As long as they had God and each other and the precious girls humming and drawing and playing around them, everything would
be okay.

But today the convincing was an almost impossible struggle. Instead of joy and strength, Kelly felt filled with sorrow and
emptiness, too tired to think of even one Bible verse that might dispel the gloom and give her hope for tomorrow. When the
girls were down for their nap, she wandered into her bedroom and slid out a box of old letters and photo albums from beneath
the bed. Maybe if she allowed herself to go back to the beginning she could remember why she had fallen in love with Chase
in the first place.

They’d all been students at Cal State University Northridge, Kelly and Lisa Ellison taking classes for international studies
degrees, and Chase and Keith working toward film production degrees. By then, Keith had spent years trying to make it as an
actor. He earned bit parts and one small independent film project. But he and Lisa married and Andi came along, and God made
it clear to Keith that he needed to pursue something else. That’s when he went back to school to be a producer.

But along the way he and Lisa and Kelly took a mission trip to Indonesia. Everything about their dreams and goals changed
in one week. Practically overnight Keith and Lisa were convinced they needed to move overseas and tell people about the salvation
of Jesus Christ, teaching them to anchor their lives on God’s eternal truth in the Bible.

The news was fantastic for Kelly. She’d gone into college with the idea of being a missionary, and now she had two friends
who wanted to go with her. Chase entered the picture that next year. Even today Kelly wasn’t sure if he really wanted to live
in the jungle, or if he was simply that taken with her.

She ran her hand along the plastic box of memories. She could still hear Lisa’s reaction when she heard the news that Chase
was going to leave everything and join them in Indonesia. Lisa had laughed out loud, not a mocking laugh but one that said
she was beyond amazed.

“Seriously? That guy would follow you to the ends of the earth.” She let her shock show in her face. “He’s such a pretty boy,
Kelly. Are you sure he can handle Indonesia?”

Kelly had laughed then and often through that first year in the jungle. But the experience changed and matured Chase, and
when he proposed to her a year later, her yes was nothing more than a formality. She was wholly and completely in love with
Chase Ryan.

She sighed and just that effort alone felt wearying. For the third time that week she wondered if she was maybe depressed,
if maybe she needed medication to find her way clear of the clouds. But she dismissed the idea. She needed God and she needed
Chase, and she needed to know they would still have a roof over their heads a year from now. As far as she knew, that combination
wasn’t something she could get with a prescription.

The plastic lid to the storage box had long since been tossed—too warped to fit. So the contents contained a fine layer of
dust on the top items—including an oversized photo album that held pictures from their entire time overseas. She brushed her
fingers along the beige cloth cover and in the afternoon sunlight she saw a small cloud of dust take to the air. She watched
it dissipate and wondered. Maybe that was the problem with her life and her marriage. Even her faith. She’d let a layer of
dust build up along the surface.

“You should be here, Chase,” she whispered. Again tears blurred her vision, and she blinked a few times so she could see.
When he finally came home, they could sit on the floor and look at these pictures together. That would have to give them a
reason to feel strong again, right? She gazed out the window at the brilliant blue sky.
Give me strength, please God … I can’t encourage Chase when I feel like this.

She waited, but again there was no answer. Just the subtle winds of sadness and discontent that blew across her barren heart.
For ten minutes she looked through the book, through the chapters and years of their lives on the mission field. But no matter
how hard she tried, she could barely recognize herself. It wasn’t only that she was older, or that she could stand to lose
twenty pounds. There was something in her expression, in the confident way she came across in every photo, that seemed foreign
to her now.

“Who are you?” she brushed her fingers across the younger beaming happy face she’d had back then. “Who are you, Kelly Ryan
… missionary girl?” Her throat felt tight, and more tears filled her eyes. “And how did I lose you along the way?”

The memories were bright and brilliant, but they felt like they belonged to another person, another lifetime. She shut the
book and set it to the side. The rest of the box had letters her parents had sent to them in Indonesia, an entire stack rubber-banded
together. That had been the hardest part about their years away, how much her parents had missed. Her father had only recently
retired from his job in LA, and they were making plans to move to San Jose so they could watch Molly and Macy grow up.

She set the stack of letters next to the photo album and sifted through an old velvet jewelry case with the broken necklace
Chase had given her their first Christmas together. She opened the hinged box and moved her finger around the neglected pieces.
She was always going to get it fixed. The necklace had a small white gold heart with a single tiny diamond. But the chain
had broken three years ago or so and the pieces had stayed in this box beneath the bed ever since.

A single tear rolled down her cheek and landed on her forearm. She dabbed at the wet streak it left behind and sniffed once.
Chase never had much money. It had taken him nearly a year to save up for that necklace, but he had wanted more than anything
to give it to her. “One heart, one bright light,” he had told her when she opened the gift. “That’s what we share between
us. This will always remind you.”

Now there might never come a time when they could afford to have it fixed. She set the box to the side and peered down to
the next layer of saved things. A small plastic frame jutted above the other envelopes of keepsakes. Kelly picked it up and
dusted it against her jeans.

As soon as she turned it over, she knew immediately what it was, and her tears spilled down both cheeks. “Chase … look at
you.” She rarely went through the contents of this box, but the last time she did, she’d somehow missed this picture. It was
Chase, the summer of their first furlough back to the States, standing in the backyard of one of their supporting churches
in Springfield, Missouri. The photo was faded around the edges, a close-up of Chase grinning in wide-eyed wonder. And in his
hand—barely visible in the picture—was a glowing firefly. Until that trip, Chase had never been east of the Rockies.

But that wasn’t the significance of the picture.

The moment came to life again as Kelly stared at the photograph. They’d had a wonderful Sunday service, welcomed by the staff
and congregation at a small country church that had helped support them in their mission work. That evening the church had
come together for a summer barbecue and picnic, with yard games and horseshoes and volleyball.

As the sun set, a couple dozen children scampered further out where the church property met up against a grove of trees. In
the hot, humid August night, fireflies were out in full force, and the children began laughing and jumping, waving their hands
trying to catch the tiny wonders.

Chase had been sitting at a folding table with Kelly and the pastor and his wife. “They’re sure having a good time.” He smiled,
puzzled at the children’s behavior. “What are they doing?”

“Catching fireflies.” The pastor’s wife looked wistfully toward the kids. “It never gets old for the little ones.”