The smorgasbord of eggs Benedict, fresh fruit, waffles, and homemade jams was certainly not something Brandon whipped up that morning. But he teased that he had a knack for cooking. He took the seat beside Bailey, and he looked better than ever. Fresh and full of light, his eyes bright with possibility.
Amazing, Bailey thought, how much better a person could look with God in their lives. When she first met Brandon, he had a drinking problem. His eyes were dark, no matter how much he teased and laughed and charmed his way through the days. But now … now she caught herself watching him, thinking about him, listening to him more than usual.
When breakfast was over, he led them through a door in the gate at the back of his yard. “Everyone thinks this hillside can’t be climbed. But the previous owner built a trail.” He laughed. “It takes a while, but it’s worth it.”
Bailey stayed close to Brandon, with the rest of her family following behind. The path zigzagged from one side of the hill to the other, cut into the rocks and protected by a small railing system on the cliff side — otherwise the path couldn’t possibly have been safe. Not when they were a good two hundred feet above the beach.
“Coach Taylor would love to get a hold of this hill.” Connor was behind Bailey. He looked back at the other boys. “Can you see it? ‘Okay, men, let’s run the hill!’”
Shawn and Justin laughed, and their dad stopped, studying the steepness of the path. “Good idea. Maybe we’ll run back up. Just so we can tell him you didn’t miss a day of training.”
“I’m up for it,” Ricky was always first to believe he could compete with the other boys. “Maybe we should run it one at a time and see who’s the fastest.”
Ahead of her, Brandon laughed and shook his head. “My dad would’ve given anything for a son like Ricky. The kid’s competitive from the minute he wakes up.”
The statement reminded Bailey of a time when Brandon had confided in her about his past, how his father had mocked him for liking theater, wishing instead that Brandon would’ve played sports. Back then a hike like this — with half a team of football players — might’ve been tough on Brandon, a reminder of all he hadn’t been as a kid. The ways he had let his father down, however cruel his dad had been.
She put her hand briefly on his shoulder as they headed down. “You were the perfect son, Brandon. You know that.”
He looked back at her, and his smile was warmed by a contentment, a peace that certainly hadn’t been there last year. “You’re right. I know that now.” His eyes took in the boys behind them. “I was born to act. But your brothers … they were born to compete. God makes everyone to carry out different tasks.” He looked forward again, navigating the trail. “I’m good with that. I think my dad’s even good with that now.”
The conversation made Bailey realize how much they had to catch up. She wanted to know about conversations Brandon must’ve had with his parents in the time since he’d become a Christian. But this wasn’t the place to talk about it.
“Don’t leave me behind!” The voice was her mother’s from the back of the caravan. Laughter marked her words, but she was definitely falling back. “My ankles aren’t as strong as all of yours.”
Shawn was the first to stop. He let the others pass and waited for their mom to catch up. “Go ahead.” He motioned the others to keep their pace. “I’ll walk with her.”
Bailey loved that about Shawn. Of the three boys her family had adopted from Haiti, Shawn had the most tender heart — and for good reason. He had been abandoned by his mother, abused and rejected. Now that he had a family who loved him, he was loyal and kind to the core. Bailey wouldn’t be surprised if Shawn wound up in ministry somewhere. He had that sort of heart for people.
“Almost there!” Brandon peered back up the hill. “I love that the paparazzi hasn’t figured out about this path. I’ve only come down here a handful of times, but still … it makes me feel like a regular person.”
“That’s cool.” Connor was close enough that he could hear Brandon. “I like how you handle the pressure. You make it look possible.”
“Connor’s thinking about acting.” Bailey could feel the downhill climb in the back of her legs, and she loved it. She hadn’t thought they’d have time for a workout today. “We talked about it this morning.”
“Really?” Brandon looked back at him. “That’s great, man. Let me know when you’re ready. I can hook you up with an agent.”
They reached the beach, and the expanse of sand was all but empty. “Is this … is it private?”
“It’s called Paradise Beach,” Brandon scanned the distance, probably making sure there were no photographers lurking anywhere. “It’s part of Malibu, and it’s open to the public. But it’s more private. Too hard to get to.”
“I love it.” Bailey kicked off her tennis shoes and worked her toes into the warm sand. “I’d be down here every day.”
“Until the paparazzi figured it out.” Brandon stared back up the hillside, waiting until everyone in Bailey’s family was safely down the trail. “So far, so good.”
They walked to the water and played in the surf and searched for sand dollars on the damp shore. The sun was warm, but here on the beach the water was colder than it looked. Way too cold to swim without a wetsuit. Bailey walked out to where the water was knee deep, and suddenly from behind her she heard someone run up and grab her by the arm.
“Come on, Miss Bailey … let’s get wet!”
Bailey made a sound that was part laugh, part scream. “No … the water’s freezing!”
“It’s not that bad.” Brandon tugged at her, leading her toward the frothy surf. Water splashed up onto her shorts, and in the distance she could see her family watching, laughing at the possibility that Bailey might get tossed into the ocean even for a few seconds. The water was so cold it burned against her legs, and she turned to Brandon, pleading with her eyes. “Please … it’s too cold!”
He looked into her eyes, and even here with everyone watching she could feel the connection, a connection that went straight to her soul. “Bailey … I’m kidding.” He stopped pulling her, but he still held on. With his other hand, he presented her with the most perfect sand dollar she’d ever seen. “This is for you.”
She took it, walking slowly back to more shallow water. “Brandon … thank you.”
“I want you to remember this weekend,” he kept his pace even with hers. The sunlight made it hard to see, but even squinting his eyes held hers. “So that maybe someday … you’ll come back and hang out with me again.”
The sand dollar fit perfectly in the palm of her hand, and she knew that she’d keep it as long as she lived. She smiled at him. “I won’t forget … I promise.”
Their time at the beach was over, and like their dad suggested, the boys all ran the path back to Brandon’s house. Brandon and Bailey brought up the rear, walking slowly so that Bailey’s mom wouldn’t be left behind. She shivered a little, because her shirt was damp from the splash of the waves — and because of the nearness of Brandon and her changing feelings for him.
He must’ve noticed, because he put his arm casually around her and then gave her a helpless look. “I have to keep you warm, right?”
“Right.” She wasn’t going to argue with him. He had been very respectful, and now she couldn’t help but enjoy how it felt to walk the path with Brandon beside her, his arm around her.
“You think I’m kidding, don’t you?”
Their pace was slower than before … like neither of them wanted to rush this moment. She looked at him, letting her gaze hang on his for a few seconds. “About what?”
He hesitated, clearly not willing to rush ahead, making sure the impact of what he was about to say wasn’t lost on the ocean breeze. “About us …”
She sighed. “Brandon … you know how I feel.”
“That was before.” He tightened the hold he had on her, ever so slightly. “When you had a boyfriend.”
His point was a good one. Back then she?
??d had a reason to resist his charm, to discourage him when he acted interested in her. But now … She stared at the dusty, rocky path … searching for the right words. “I guess … I never think you’re really serious.” Her eyes lifted to his. “I mean … you have a lot of girls, Brandon.”
“No.” He shook his head, and again she saw something very different in his expression, a wisdom and maturity that told her he was being utterly honest. “I haven’t dated once since we finished filming. I figured I needed time with God, time to see what He wanted from me the next time I fell in love.”
If he wanted to melt her heart, his words were right on. She allowed a soft laugh. “When did you become so amazing, Brandon Paul?” She angled her head, searching his heart, his soul. The path beneath her feet felt less solid than before — like she was walking on air.
“You want to know the truth, Bailey?” He stopped and faced her. He was just ahead of her, and as he looked down at her, the vulnerability in his eyes was both raw and real. The rest of her family was nearing the top of the path, so they were alone now — the two of them on a Malibu hillside, the ocean spread out below them. He brought his hand to her cheek, a show of tenderness more than anything else. “The truth is I’ve been looking forward to this ever since the last time we were together. Asking God … if He’d make me into the sort of guy you could fall in love with.”
Bailey’s head began to spin, so much that she covered Brandon’s hand with her own and steadied herself. Was she dreaming? Could this really be happening? She had come to Los Angeles for a premiere and some time with an old friend — nothing more. But now she could see that Brandon was serious. And for the first time since she’d met the young actor, she had to actually consider what he was saying. “Brandon, I … I’m not sure what to say.”
For a moment, he looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve never known a girl like you, Bailey.” He glanced back at his house on the hillside and the ocean behind her. “My life’s crazy and different and very public … I know that. But what would it take … I mean, really?” His voice mixed with the warm breeze and she couldn’t tell what smelled better: his cologne or the honeysuckle on the mountainside. He smiled at her, warming every cold place left in her heart. “This weekend … at least consider the possibility.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it—gently, tenderly. “Okay, Bailey?”
She could barely draw a breath. This wasn’t a dream, it was happening. And Brandon was waiting for an answer. “You really mean it,” her voice was soft, spoken from her heart to his. “Don’t you?”
Again he ran his hand along her hair, her cheek. “With everything I am.”
For a moment, she wished he would kiss her. Because what could be more romantic than sharing a sweet, innocent kiss here with Brandon, a guy who had been her friend, and who now was admitting he had deeper feelings for her. But Brandon didn’t try to kiss her, and deep inside Bailey was grateful. God might be leading her toward a relationship with Brandon — she wasn’t sure. But He wouldn’t want them to kiss just because to do so would feel wonderful and romantic and unforgettable. The closeness between them was enough for now.
He pulled her into a hug and held her for a long time. “Just think about it.”
She waited, listening to his heartbeat as it kept time with the pounding surf below. “I will.” She pulled back and found his eyes again. “I promise.” Their hug lasted another half a minute, and then Brandon kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get back up. We have about two hours to get ready for tonight.”
Bailey nodded and they continued up the hillside. Brandon was right — they had a lunch scheduled with the team handling distribution — and a meet-and-greet with the studio staff and executives. After that there would be an early dinner with Brandon’s agent, and interviews with a few key media representatives. Then it would be time to walk the red carpet, time to sit next to Brandon in a dark theater full of Hollywood’s elite and watch the movie they’d made together.
Suddenly everything about the coming hours seemed more exciting than Bailey could’ve dreamed a few days ago. Because today there were possibilities that God had only just now begun to present … waves that were appearing on the horizon that had never been there before. And for all Bailey knew, this new twist, these new feelings might mean the one thing she’d prayed about earlier that morning was already happening.
The perfect wave might even now be taking shape.
Fourteen
USUALLY ASHLEY AND LANDON WOULD HAVE THE BAXTER FAMily over for dinner on a Sunday. But tonight — in honor of her older brother Dayne’s first premiere as a producer — they were meeting on Saturday. Attending the event were Dayne and his family, and Ashley’s other brother Luke and his wife, Reagan — along with their three kids Tommy, Malin, and their adopted infant son, Jonathan. The group of them would have a blast, no doubt.
But for everyone else, it made more sense to stay in Bloomington and celebrate here. Cole had baseball games over the weekend, and Landon was still trying to adjust his asthma medication. Her sisters — Kari and Erin and Brooke — all had kids in sports or other school activities this weekend. Besides, they had planned an all-Baxter movie night next Friday here in town, once Luke and Dayne and their families returned to Indiana.
Ashley checked on the two deep dishes of chicken in the oven. She’d made her mother’s favorite tonight: frozen chicken breasts covered in cream of mushroom and cream of chicken soups combined. Mixed with the chicken juices, the meal always came out perfectly. Brown rice was cooking in the rice maker, and broccoli simmered on the stove. Two pans of it.
In the other room, she could hear Landon reading to the kids, and she held onto the moment. The week had been full of times like this, when she would catch herself lost in a scene from her own life and hold onto it like never before. She understood what was behind her recent nostalgia. They’d met with Landon’s doctor a few days ago, and the news was enough to paralyze Ashley with fear. Even here in the kitchen minutes before a family dinner, it was only by God’s grace that she was able to carry on in light of the new possibilities.
She stood at the kitchen sink and stared out the window at her mother’s rose garden. “I miss you, Mom … if you were here, you could tell me that it’s all going to be okay.”
Her voice was a whisper, a wish. As if by speaking the words out loud she could somehow connect to the memory of her mother. But even if her mother were here she wouldn’t have assured Ashley that everything was okay. Her mother wouldn’t have died of cancer four years ago if that were true. This was the world … and like her father had told them often, in the world they would have trouble.
Landon’s asthma attack the day he went running — three weeks ago now — was nearly a fatal one. Certainly not normal for someone with his physical health and conditioning, someone who had never struggled with asthma in the past. For that reason, the day of the attack, her father had directed them to a pulmonary specialist. The doctor had prescribed an inhaler and oral steroids as a first line of defense. But he had also ordered tests, the results of which they’d gotten a few days ago.
The conversation in the doctor’s office came to life again, and Ashley gripped the kitchen counter, her eyes closed. “I’m afraid what we’re finding isn’t good.” The physician was from India, kind and serious with a slight accent. “Landon, you show initial signs of polymyositis.”
He went on to explain that the lung disease was something being found in rescue workers who spent lengthy time at Ground Zero.
“Okay … so, what do I do next? I mean, let’s start treatment.” Landon remained upbeat, confident. Tackling this news the way he would any other obstacle.
Ashley watched him, amazed. Landon had always been this way—strong and stoic, certain about what he wanted, and how to get it, and which direction God was leading him. He had been in love with her since they were in high school, and even after he left Bloomington to work at Ground Zero he kept quiet about his feelings for her. But in the
doctor’s office this week — as the doctor confirmed her worst fears — Ashley could only think of one thing …
This was all her fault.
If she had come to her senses and fallen in love with Landon sooner, he never would’ve left. He wouldn’t have pursued a position with the New York Fire Department, and he wouldn’t have damaged his lungs with his time at Ground Zero. All if only she wouldn’t have waited so long to love him.
The doctor hesitated for what felt like forever before he answered Landon, before he addressed the idea of a cure. He pinched his lips together and gave a slow shake of his head. “There’s not a cure, really. I’m afraid to say that even with research done on this disease, only a few options remain.”
Landon reached over and took her hand. He didn’t waver or cry out or flinch. Like every other time in his life, all that mattered to him was her.
Everything had slipped in a strange slow motion from that point. Ashley opened her eyes and looked past the Baxter house to the roses outside. Roses that were just now, this second Saturday in April, starting to bud and grow again. Proof that life would go on — no matter what devastating news had come into their lives that week.
Ashley remembered the doctor saying something about oxygen tanks, and how the progress of the disease could sometimes be slowed dramatically with steroid use and artificial air support. She tried to picture her healthy, strapping husband carting around an oxygen machine when the doctor got to the point.
“The only cure,” his tone was grave, “is a lung transplant. Now … we don’t know for sure that we’re dealing with polymyositis. But if we are … that’s what we’re up against.”
What they were up against? A lung transplant for Landon? At his young age? Otherwise, what? She didn’t want to ask, and at that point Landon must not have wanted to ask either. Because none of them said much after that. They simply discussed the next round of tests — scheduled for a few weeks out — and listened while the doctor insisted Landon continue to take his medication and use his inhaler, whenever his airways showed signs of constricting.