Summer Page 11

  Bailey nudged him and kept her voice quiet so only he could hear her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He kept his attention on the front of the room, where another young girl was taking the stage.

  “Yes, it is.” She looked around. If Rhonda or Bethany heard her whispering, she could be kicked out. “Why’d you cross your arms?”

  A long sigh came from Cody, and he met her eyes. His frustration seemed to melt away. “I just wish I could sing; that’s all.”

  Bailey hesitated. “Oh.” She straightened and watched the next audition. Cody wished he could sing? There it was again, a sign that he liked her, the same way she liked him. He must’ve been jealous about her reaction to Tim’s song. Confident, cool, class charmer Cody Coleman, jealous. The thought stayed with her, and she made a mental note to talk to Cody about his feelings.

  Lately her thoughts and interest were for Cody and no one else, but she’d done a good job of keeping them secret. Her parents still didn’t want her dating Cody—especially not while he lived with them. And besides, he was headed off to the army. Even so, he didn’t have to be jealous of Tim. Tim had never been interested in her anyway. Not really.

  The next hour passed quickly, with lots of competitive auditions. At least four of the older girls already had a great shot at playing the woman caught in adultery—a part that would include two solos. Bailey checked her lyrics. She was singing “Once Upon a Time” from Brooklyn the Musical.

  Before she went up with her group of ten, Cody squeezed her hand. “You’ll do great.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned at him. It felt like a flock of birds was trying to find its way out of her stomach. Her knees shook as she took a step back from him.

  “Hey.”

  Bailey stopped.

  “I’ll be praying for you.”

  His words warmed her heart. “Thanks.” She moved to the front, and when she was seated, she saw her parents and her brothers move up closer. Her mom gave her a little wave, and she returned it.

  When it was Bailey’s turn to sing, every other thought left her head. The song was one she could’ve written—the idea that a fairy tale–type life must be waiting for her somewhere down the road. That one day all the confusion of today would clear, and she would have a life like her parents shared. Like Ashley and Landon Blake’s and Katy and Dayne’s.

  As the song grew and built, Bailey could sense the audition was one of her best. When it ended, her friends roared their approval. The familiar faces before her were the safe kids, the ones she didn’t have to worry about. They didn’t party, and they shared her faith—not just as something they talked about but something they lived out every day.

  For a moment she wondered where they might be if it weren’t for CKT. The theater group gave them a place to connect, a way to know they weren’t alone in their determination to make right choices. Thank You, God, she breathed as she grinned at Rhonda and Katy, then walked back to her seat. Thank You for CKT. We need it here so badly.

  Before she reached her row, her eyes met Tim’s. His smile told her he was proud of her, and she was glad. No matter what the coming months held for her and Cody, she wanted Tim’s friendship. She looked up to him in every way that mattered.

  When she made it to her seat, Cody leaned over and hugged her neck with one arm. “Way to go.”

  “Thanks.”

  Bailey was still relishing the success of her performance, grateful that she hadn’t forgotten the words or cracked her voice, when she noticed a slight vibration coming from her purse. She reached in and pulled out her cell phone.

  It was a text message from Marissa. I took a test. It’s positive. Please pray. I don’t know what to do next.

  Bailey sucked in a quick breath. A test? She read the message again and then one more time. A pregnancy test? Was that what she was talking about? Bailey’s stomach dropped, and she shut her phone. Marissa Young, her friend from Sunday school, was pregnant? At seventeen?

  Cody gave her a strange look and nodded to her cell phone.

  She shook her head and used her eyes to tell him she’d talk about it later. But even as she did, she could feel her heart breaking. If that’s what Marissa meant, then life was about to change completely for her friend. Marissa’s parents would be devastated, for sure.

  Once, a few summers ago, Bailey and her mom had met up with Marissa and her mom for a day of back-to-school shopping. Over lunch, the four of them talked about the weddings that would be coming for the two girls someday. There was nothing serious or for sure about the talk, but it was fun to dream, fun to imagine the white flowing gowns and bridesmaids and flowers filling a church packed with family and friends.

  Marissa admitted that she’d written a poem for her future husband, something about how her commitment to God would always be first and how she’d prayed for him since she was a little girl.

  Bailey blinked, and the text message replayed in her mind. She tried to connect with the series of auditions, but her heart was a thousand miles away. Change wasn’t something she did well. It was the worst part of getting older, the fact that nothing stayed the same.

  When the auditions were over and the room grew loud with conversation and excitement, Cody shifted so he could see her. “What was the text?”

  “Marissa.” Bailey needed fresh air. “She thinks she’s pregnant.”

  A groan came from Cody, and for a few seconds he said nothing. “She’s the nice girl, right? The friend from church?”

  “From school, too. She could’ve gotten a volleyball scholarship, but she dropped out of sports this year.”

  “For a guy.”

  “A college guy.” Bailey could hear her mother telling her more times than she could count that relationships could wait, that these were the years to grow in faith and education and maturity. She grasped her knees. “Marissa wanted to wait until she was married.”

  Cody looked defeated. “Do you know the guy?”

  “No.” She shrugged. “He’s at IU. Just another player.”

  The words seemed to hit Cody hard. He winced. “The way I used to be.”

  Bailey thought about all the girls who’d been connected to Cody over the years. “Yeah, I guess.” She stood, and before she could think of something else to say, Tim Reed came up and gave her a hug.

  “Your song was amazing.”

  Tim sounded older, more mature or more confident. Whatever it was, Bailey felt her heart beat a little faster. “Thanks. You too.” She caught Cody’s expression as she pulled away. “Uh, Tim, you remember Cody, right? You met at my house.”

  “Yeah.” Cody stuck out his hand. “Good to see you, man.”

  “You too.” Tim turned his attention back to Bailey, and they talked for a few minutes about auditions and the callbacks scheduled for the next day. Tim knew Marissa, so Bailey purposefully kept that information to herself. People would find out soon enough.

  When Tim was gone, and after Bailey’s parents and her brother Connor had made a plan to meet back at the house for dinner, she and Cody walked out to the parking lot. It made her feel old, getting a ride home with Cody.

  As they crossed the blacktop, he laughed in a quiet sort of way.

  They reached his car, and she tilted her head. “What’s so funny?”

  “It would never work.” His tone held a quiet defeat.

  She thought she knew what he meant, but she wasn’t going to guess. “What?”

  Cody took a step closer and touched her shoulder. “Us.” He smiled, but it was full of a sadness she hadn’t seen in him before. He looked back at the entrance to the church. “Tim. He’s your type. Not me. You deserve someone like him.”

  Bailey opened her mouth to say something, because a part of her wanted to tell him he was wrong. Anyone deserved a second chance at life, and just because Cody was an alcoholic and headed for the army didn’t mean she couldn’t fall for him. But she changed her mind.

  How could she know any of the answers now? The only on
e that made sense was her mother’s: Bailey was too young to worry about it. The way Marissa was too young. She shivered, thinking how much time she’d wasted thinking about guys. Look where that had gotten Marissa.

  When they got in the car, she rolled her window down and let the night air in. She had friends and she had CKT. She had a family who loved her and a faith that would get her through the changes that were happening all around her.

  For now, that was enough.

  A week had passed since the prayer meeting at her dad’s house, and Kari still hadn’t had a private conversation with Ashley. But Ashley wanted to keep up their walking at the high school—at least she’d said so when they were all together. Kari had called three times since, and Ashley was always preoccupied with volunteering in Cole’s classroom, taking Devin in for a checkup, or cleaning the boys’ bedrooms.

  Kari felt terrible about her sister’s situation, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  Jessie was at preschool, but RJ was down for a nap, so she tiptoed across the kitchen and peered into the fridge. Brooke was coming over for lunch. Kari had made chicken salad, and she checked that it was covered, ready to go. The bread was baking, and she glanced at her timer. Another twenty minutes. She poured herself a cup of herbal tea and headed into the front room, where she could keep an eye on the driveway. She wanted to open the door before her sister had time to ring the bell and wake her son.

  She sat down and cupped her tea with both hands. The warm mug felt good. Maybe it would stave off the cold, fearful feeling that had stayed in her heart since she heard the news. She wasn’t a doctor like her sister, but by the time she and Ryan drove to her dad’s house for the prayer meeting, she’d done enough Internet research to know the truth about anencephaly. The tests simply weren’t wrong, and the birth defect was always fatal.

  Always.

  Kari took a sip of tea and felt the tears again. How could this be happening? And how could she convince herself to keep praying for a miracle when the situation looked so futile? She remembered the conversation she’d had with Ryan last night before they went to bed.

  “You’re feeling guilty.” He’d taken her in his arms and run his hand along her back. For a long time he stayed that way, letting her lean into him.

  She breathed in some of his strength and then stepped back so she could see his face. “You think so?”

  “Yes.” He had nothing but understanding and tenderness in his eyes. “You can’t feel bad about having a healthy baby.” He placed his fingertips beneath her chin. “Take everything inside you and put it into prayer. That’s what Ashley asked you to do. Pray for a miracle.”

  The conversation faded from her mind, and Kari stared out the front window. She and Ashley had always been close, but they’d each had their days of grief. The time Kari lost Ryan during their college years, and then the roller coaster ride with her first husband, Tim. His affair and his murder—all in one year.

  Ashley had been there during those hard times, usually with a strong opinion about what Kari should do next. But when Ashley gave her life to the Lord after working at Sunset Hills Adult Care Home, when she softened enough to let Landon catch her, it seemed like maybe Ashley was finished with her own rough times.

  Kari held her mug to her cheek. The notion was ridiculous. None of them would ever be finished with the hard times until Christ called them home. As much as the Baxter family had survived over the years, they had much ahead. Times when one or another of them would doubt God or battle illness or injury. Times when their relationships would suffer because of one thing or another.

  She exhaled, and the sound came from someplace deep in her soul. Today’s lunch was for that very reason. Brooke and Ashley. The two of them hadn’t talked since the meeting at their dad’s house, and the one time Kari tried to bring it up to Brooke, she’d refused to discuss the matter.

  “Ashley made herself very clear.” Brooke’s voice had been tense. “I was only giving my best advice, and she thinks I’m attacking her.”

  A van pulled into the driveway and parked. Brooke was still in her white coat from work. Her expression looked taut as she hurried up the steps, her body language saying much about her hurt.

  Kari set her cup down and went to the door. Let me be a peacemaker, God. Use me today, please. . . . She opened the door. “Hi,” she whispered. “RJ’s sleeping.”

  Brooke nodded and stepped quietly into the house. “I could’ve brought lunch.”

  “That’s okay. It wasn’t any trouble.”

  They walked into the kitchen, and Brooke breathed in through her nose. “Smells good.” She took off her white coat, set it on the back of one of the chairs, and smiled at Kari. “I haven’t made fresh bread since I started med school.”

  Kari smiled. “We all have different gifts.” She eased the door open with an oven mitt and pulled out the bread. She didn’t want to waste time. “Any word from Ashley?”

  “Not yet.” She stood near the counter and motioned to the refrigerator. “Can I help?”

  “No. I’ve got it.” Kari brought the food to the table, poured Brooke a cup of tea, and added more to her own. When they were seated, facing each other, Kari prayed for the meal and then studied her sister. “I’m worried about you two.”

  “Ashley’s overreacting.” Brooke pulled three brochures from her purse and set them on the table. “I’m leaving these with you. If more of us have a commonsense approach, maybe it’ll help take the emotions out of the decisions ahead for Ashley and Landon.”

  Kari glanced at the brochures. She didn’t need to open them to understand their message. Each of them had a title that dealt with abortions for medical reasons. Kari wanted to scream at her sister. It was one thing for an abortion to be Brooke’s initial reaction to Ashley’s ultrasound results. But now that Brooke knew Ashley’s strong conviction, how could she still suggest such a thing?

  “I know.” Brooke waved her hand, slight disgust coloring her expression. “You think I’m terrible for saying it.” She leaned forward, impassioned. “But this is not abortion for birth control’s sake. The child has a fatal defect. The sooner Ashley can let this baby go, the sooner she and Landon could try again for a healthy child.”

  Kari was too shocked to speak. She sat back in her chair, her hands still wrapped tightly around her cup. “You’re serious?”

  “Of course.” Brooke wasn’t even a little hesitant. “What’s the point of letting a child like that live?”

  “Brooke!” Kari released her cup and stood. She paced to the kitchen sink and stared out at the field behind their home. God, give me the words. . . . Help me so I don’t sound hateful. She grabbed hold of the counter and spun around. “Do you hear yourself?”

  “Of course I hear myself.” Brooke clenched her jaw. “You and Ashley don’t understand what will happen if she keeps this baby.” She stood and marched over to Kari. When she was directly in front of her, she raked her fingers through her shoulder-length hair. “First off, the delivery is traumatic. A C-section is a must, and immediately the baby’s head has to be covered to protect it.” She paused. “And to hide the way its head is shaped. Then whatever few hours or days remain will be spent watching the child slowly die. It’s a horrific experience, and it could traumatize Ashley and Landon for life.”

  Kari waited until her sister was finished. Brooke was wrong, but a screaming match would never win her over. She stood a little straighter and felt God’s peace come over her. “At least they would have the chance to hold their baby, to say good-bye.” Her voice was calm. “And they would know that their daughter’s death didn’t come at their hands but because God had called her home.”

  Brooke looked exasperated. “What about the trauma for Ashley and Landon?”

  “What about the possibility that the test was wrong, and that even if it’s right, God could still heal that baby?”

  A sound like a frustrated laugh came from Brooke. “Never mind.” She turned and walked back to her
spot at the table. She gathered her brochures and stuffed them into her purse. “I have to go.” She slipped her coat on, keeping her eyes from Kari’s.

  “You didn’t eat.” Kari hadn’t wanted things to go this way. From the far bedroom, she could hear RJ starting to wake up.

  “I’m not hungry.” She took a few steps toward the door, stopped, and faced Kari once more. “Look, I’m not mad at you. Everyone wants this to be a moral issue, but in cases like this, it’s a medical procedure. A difficult one, I agree. But I would advise it without hesitation if Ashley were my patient.”

  Kari moved closer to Brooke. Again she kept her tone calm. “The Bible tells us to choose life. Every time we have a choice, in every situation possible . . . choose life.”

  For an instant, vulnerability appeared in Brooke’s eyes, as if she hadn’t considered her suggestion in that light. “The child is going to die anyway.” There was a cry in her voice, a pleading. “Life isn’t an option for this baby.”

  Suddenly something occurred to Kari. “Remember what Pastor Mark said when Mom was dying?”

  Brooke’s expression lost any signs of a fight.

  When she didn’t say anything, Kari took a step closer and continued. “He said we should never be angry with God for the days we didn’t get with Mom. We should be grateful for the ones we had.” She blinked back tears. “Life is God’s to give, God’s to take. Whether that life lasts a few minutes or a few decades. Eight hours or eighty years.” She put her hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “Please think about that.”

  A long sigh came from Brooke. She looked tired of arguing. “I know you mean well.”

  Kari found a sad smile. “You too.”

  Brooke gave a final nod and then left. When she’d closed the door behind her, Kari went to the window and watched her drive away. Ryan Junior was crying softly, and she needed to get to him. But before another minute passed, she had to pray. God . . . don’t let this come between us. Brooke’s an intelligent woman, educated and up-to-date on the latest medical understanding. But Your Word says life isn’t a matter of intellect or choice. It’s Yours. Period. She sighed, and the next part of her prayer came in an audible whisper. “Change her heart, Lord. Please.”