A frustrated pang of anxiety rippled across her heart as she typed her response. “Not much … how’ve you been?”
She tapped the search line, spelled out Cody’s name, and then hit enter. Immediately a list of names came up — but none of them were her Cody. The swing rocked gently, and the wind settled down some. A quick switch of screens and she called up her text window. She could write a text and in five seconds he could know she was thinking of him. She poised her fingers over the miniature keyboard and began typing. Why not text him? She could tell him hello, right? There was no harm in that. Her fingers moved faster.
Hey, stranger. Thinking of you …
But just as she was about to hit the send button, her mother’s words flashed in her mind. Next time that boy pursues you, he better do it like a dying man looking for water in a desert. She stared at the unsent text and the pain in her soul became a legitimate anger. The sort of anger that could fester and root itself into her heart, where she might have it always if she wasn’t careful. She closed her eyes, ordering her emotions under control. As she did, her phone vibrated, signaling a text coming in.
If this was Cody then maybe … maybe God was trying to tell her that he hadn’t moved on. That on nights like this, even after a great day, he still thought about her the way she thought about him. She opened her eyes and raced over the text.
Thinking about you, Bailey girl … not letting NY stop me. Just so you know.
The text was from Brandon, and though a part of her was disappointed, his words lifted her spirits and made her smile. What was she supposed to do with Brandon? He wasn’t leaving, he’d made that clear. His last phone call was a week ago, before he set off for some island location to work on his current movie. “I saw it in your eyes, Bailey. You care for me. If you’d let yourself fall … I think you could love me.”
“Brandon, … you’re crazy. This is all we’d ever have. A phone call every week or so.” She had to be honest. “We prayed about God shutting the door, and He did.”
“Maybe not.” Brandon’s answer was quick. “Maybe this is just a closed window, and now we’re supposed to work on finding the real door.”
He made her laugh, and that phone call was no exception. The truth was, his call had made her head spin, and her heartbeat didn’t feel normal the rest of the night. He hadn’t had cell reception since then — until now, anyway. She typed back her response.
You found a cell tower in the jungle? Or you’re back in LA.
His response came lightning fast: LA. Missing you.
Bailey allowed a weak laugh to slip. Was God really allowing her life to be this complicated? What am I supposed to do with him, Lord? Brandon Paul? Really? Should I take him seriously? She thought about the craziness of his life, the paparazzi, and magazine covers, and twenty-four-seven scrutiny.
Miss you, too … The stars in Bloomington right now remind me of our night on your balcony.
Bailey hesitated, re-read the text, and then in a rush she hit send. It was true … she did miss him. Again, his response was immediate: Everything reminds me of that night. Can I visit you tomorrow?
Bailey laughed out loud. Was he serious? He would fly to see her just like that? Without a plan or a few weeks’ notice? The answer was an obvious yes. Brandon could afford to be impulsive. She tapped out her reply. Umm … I’m packing … getting ready to leave.
She stared at their conversation and looked again at his texts. Half a minute later, another message flashed on her screen: Perfect. I’ll help you pack. I’m good at it.
This time Bailey’s heart danced. What was she doing? She’d show these texts to her mom later. Maybe she’d help shed light on the situation. The dilemma she felt lately with the guys in her life was a distraction — the way she missed Cody but still felt a growing attraction to Brandon. She needed to go through everything in her room and pack her things, and once she arrived in New York, she needed to finish her semester online and rehearse for the biggest role of her life.
How could she even consider maintaining a regular friendship with Brandon, let alone daydream about whether Cody ever thought about her? Her fingers flew across her phone’s keyboard. Sure, Brandon … stop by. It’s not like you’re in the middle of shooting a movie or anything.
Almost immediately he responded. You think I’m kidding. I’m hurt.
No … really. Come. I’ll be waiting. She laughed, but not as hard as before. She didn’t want to tease him if he was perfectly serious. That was one of the problems with texts. There was no way to get the tone.
Okay. The minute I have a break, I’ll surprise you. Don’t say this can’t work, Bailey … I’ll show you.
Ahhh … Brandon, you make me smile. She thought of her dad’s famous line, and she tapped out the letters. I’ll leave the light on, okay?
She stared at the text as she sent it. Why was she doing this? Even if they found a way to make their cities and schedules work, she’d have to live his public life. And what about Cody? His name reminded her of the months of frustration and hurt, the anger she felt earlier because he hadn’t texted or called. And that could only mean he wasn’t thinking of her.
For me? Brandon’s text came flying in. You’d leave the light on for me? Bailey … you just made my night. And why is it I can still see your eyes looking into mine that night?
“You know just what to say,” she whispered the words. Then she responded as quickly as he had. I can see yours, too … I have no idea what that means … but just so you know, I still can.
Or maybe they were Cody’s eyes she could see — even in a moment like this. The sudden thought interrupted her good time with Brandon and made her angry with herself. Dear God … Cody doesn’t care … Help me move on, please … I need You.
I am enough for you, daughter … Fill your heart with me.
The answer came swift and certain, filling her heart with the soft whisper of truth. He was all she needed — not the heartache of Cody … or even the thrill of possibility with Brandon Paul.
The crazy thing was that in all her life, she hadn’t thought she’d reach a point where she would beg God to help her forget about Cody Coleman. She sorted through her text conversations, found Cody’s name, and deleted the message she was going to send him ten minutes ago. She would follow her mother’s advice.
So where did that leave things with Brandon? What if he really jumped on a plane and came here to help her pack? She giggled at the thought as she stood and walked inside. Darkness had fallen, and she wanted to talk to her mom.
Not because of Cody this time, but because of Brandon Paul — which had to mean something. Brandon was fun and adventurous, and his new faith seemed stronger all the time. So why not allow herself to consider the idea? As she shut the front door, she did the one thing she had to do before the night got too late. The thing she had promised she would do …
She flicked the porch light on.
Eighteen
FROM HIS PLACE IN THE DUGOUT, LANDON BLAKE COULD SEE the packed stands. Not that there were many rows in the bleachers — but what was there was full to capacity. Cole’s Yankees were undefeated, and at this point in the season with half the games already played, people from the community were coming out and cheering them on.
“Dad,” Cole was fitting his catcher’s gear on his chest, “You’re feeling good, right?”
Landon had been using his inhaler, taking the medication. But still there were moments when the dust kicked up from the infield and he’d cough a couple times. He hadn’t noticed it himself, but this afternoon was probably one of those times. Landon patted Cole on the back. “I’m fine, buddy. Just fine.”
There were two outs, and with the game tied, they were putting Cole behind the plate. He was as good pitching as he was catching, but this team was known for stealing bases.
“I love catching, by the way,” Cole grinned as he snapped the last buckle in place. He put one shin protector on and began working with the other. “Those guys won’t ge
t past me.”
“Terminator. Right, Big C?” Avery Schmidt gave Cole a few pats on his head. “Actually we’re the terminator team. Me at short, and you at catch.”
“And me on the mound,” Thomas joined in, and then Mitchell, all of them agreeing that the combination about to take the field would inevitably stop the other team from scoring in the final three innings.
“I love the confidence,” Landon grinned. “But let’s let our game do the talking.” He was about to pull the kids together and go over the lineup, when his pager went off. He checked the message and gritted his teeth. A house fire. He was on call, so he’d have to leave now. “What is it, Dad? Is it a fire?”
“It is,” he winked at Cole. “I’ll try to be back for the last inning, okay?”
“Sure.” The worry in Cole’s eyes was something new. The boy had loved the sense of adventure that came with Landon’s job. But today he only stared at Landon, his lips parted. “Be safe.”
“Of course.” Landon gave Cole a side hug and nodded to his assistant coach, Kevin. “I’ll be back.”
Kevin was perfectly capable. The man had more coaching experience than Landon, but his work kept him away from the early games. “Go on.” Kevin grabbed the clipboard from the chain-link fence. “We’ll be waiting.”
Landon found Ashley in the stands, sitting with her sisters — Kari, Brooke, and Erin — and their families. It was one of those rare days when most of the family managed to be there. Ash’s dad and Elaine sat on the highest row, and even as Landon explained the situation to Ashley, he could feel John Baxter’s nervous eyes on him.
“Do you have your inhaler?” Ashley’s tone had a quiet panic in it. “Baby, check. You can’t go into a fire without it. The doctor told you.”
“I know.” He pulled the plastic device from his pants pocket. “I’ve got it.”
“Okay.” She knit her brow together, stood, and gave him a quick hug. “Be careful. I love you, Landon … I’ll be praying.”
“I love you too.” He smiled at her, caring for her with everything in him. “Me, too.”
With that, he ran to the waiting fire engine and drove off. His partner was already in the passenger seat — content to watch the game from the rig as long as they were on call. Now they flew into action, racing to the fire as quickly as they could. The fire was downtown, and as they pulled around the corner they saw two trucks had already responded. But even with that the dwelling was fully engulfed.
Working with precision, they parked as close as they could, donned their masks and gloves and gear, and ran to the command post out front. “We still have two people trapped inside,” the lieutenant yelled above the sound of flames and water hoses. “Three have been rescued, but we can’t find the two. It’s an older couple — husband and wife.”
Bloomington didn’t have many fires this serious — with people trapped inside a burning house. But suddenly he remembered the time a decade ago when it was a child lost in a fire like this. Landon refused to give up as he went through the house that day, and he found the boy unconscious. He buddy-breathed with him until he blacked out … and it was in the aftermath of that fire that he first realized Ashley Baxter had feelings for him.
The memory passed as quickly as it came. He couldn’t black out this time. His lungs couldn’t afford it. He hurried in, his partner at his side. Already fighting their way through the burning building were four other firefighters, the first responders. They could communicate from within their gear, but the noise around them was deafening — oppressive, same as the heat. In a burn this fully involved, Landon and his partner had just one choice: stay together. That way there would at least be one person to know where the other one was if something terrible happened — a collapsed beam, a broken floor board, a fallen wall.
Command had told them to head to the back of the house. The upstairs had been checked, same with the bedrooms on the right side. Already, the first two teams were back outside, getting oxygen and water before they might make another attempt at finding the victims. Landon peered through the bright orange wall of fire and looked for an opening, any opening. Dear Lord … they’re in here somewhere. Please … help us find them. This is why You asked me to fight fires, Father …
I am with you, my son …
Landon felt the certain calm of the truth of God. The Lord was with him. He would not fight this fire alone. Landon used his axe to sweep debris out of the way as they headed back, deeper into the burning house. Within a minute they found the woman. She was collapsed on the floor in a doorway, unmoving. Together, Landon and his partner picked her up and moved her quickly outside. No telling if she was still alive, but once they had her safely on the lawn, paramedics took over.
“You okay, Blake … you’re coughing.” The lieutenant in charge grabbed Landon’s shoulder and stared at him. “Don’t go back in if you’re coughing.”
Landon hadn’t even noticed. He lifted his mask, reached for his inhaler, and took two quick puffs. After fifteen seconds, he exhaled and nodded. “I’m fine. I’m going back in.”
The look from his lieutenant told him that at this stage in the fire, there might not be any point. But their job was to save lives, not to stop and count the cost. He’d done that the day he’d agreed to fight fires for the city of Bloomington. His partner was ready, and again the two of them positioned their headgear and masks and hurried back into the burning house. The fire was at its peak now, consuming everything in its wake. Landon ran as quickly as he could, trudging over fallen beams and pushing his way past piles of burning embers. The heat pressed in against his skin and he could barely see his own feet.
Another scan of the place, and at first it looked like maybe command was wrong … maybe the old man had gotten out earlier and in the chaos people had missed him. But just when they might’ve turned around and given up, Landon saw a leg sticking out from a doorway down the hall from where the woman was found. He signaled to his partner, but even as he did he felt something strange in his lungs … a burning or tightness that hadn’t been there before. He fought through, working so that the two of them lifted the man and carried him back through the burning house, out onto the lawn where his wife was receiving CPR.
With every step, Landon became more sure that something was seriously wrong. God … I can’t breathe … can’t … draw a breath. A sense of panic welled in him as they set the man down. He had thought often lately about what could happen, what the problem in his lungs might be. Sometimes at night when Ashley was already asleep, he considered the very strong reality that he might have a serious lung disease. A fatal lung disease. He wasn’t worried about himself. He loved God, and when he walked the bridge of death, it would be to a place called eternity. Landon was certain.
He tried to draw in one breath … one single breath. But again his lungs wouldn’t work. Wouldn’t allow even a little air into his body. In a rush, he ripped his helmet off and slowly fell to his knees, desperately trying to calm his airways, grabbing for his inhaler. But the doctor had warned him about this: an inhaler could only work if a person could draw a breath. Now, though, with the smoke and heat, Landon couldn’t suck back a single bit of the medication.
People were shouting all around him, screaming for help and running toward him. It’s okay, he told himself. Everything’s going to be okay. Now, just like at night when Ashley was sleeping, he wasn’t concerned with his own life or how come his lungs were failing him … or even if this were the end. After all, he fought fires because this was the work God wanted him to do. His last thought … the last flicker of consciousness left in his body was devoted to one single uncertainty. Not about himself, but about his wife.
What would happen to his precious Ashley?
Because if this were the end … if he never got to hold Cole and Devin and Janessa again, then he would wait for them in heaven, where they would share forever. In time they would all be okay. But what about his wife …
Ashley … Ashley, baby. God, help her … Do
n’t let me die, Father. Please …
It was his final cry, his final prayer. Because if he knew her at all, he knew this. After all they’d been through, if he didn’t survive this fire, he was fairly certain the news wouldn’t only devastate Ashley.
It might destroy her.
ASHLEY HADN’T MOVED FROM LANDON’S BEDSIDE since she got there, three hours ago. Since then Landon had been hooked to machines, on life support — pure oxygen being pumped into his weakened lungs. The rest of the family was in the waiting room, and at times one or two of them had come in to offer support and pray for Landon.
But for now it was just the two of them — where they began — here in a hospital room with Landon fighting for his life. She had prayed, of course … but only in short bursts. For the most part, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop looking at him or watching his chest rise and fall, willing him to breathe on his own, to find the strength to grab hold of life and stay here. With her.
“Landon, …” she barely recognized her voice, strained and high pitched. Filled with terror. “Stay with me, baby … stay. Please, God, let him stay.”
Some people talked about times like this, when life was on the line and a sudden rush of awareness came like a tidal wave. Things that should’ve been said, love that could’ve been expressed, memories they could’ve made. But that awareness was not part of this moment. Ashley had no regrets when it came to loving Landon Blake. Every day she gave to him all she had, the same way he gave to her. They seized every moment, made the most of every situation. They had loved like their next breath depended on it, and so that wasn’t the problem.
Ashley touched her fingers lightly to Landon’s rugged face. She was vaguely aware of tears streaming down her cheeks, but she made no attempt to stop them. No loud sobs or cries came from her, because she couldn’t focus on anything but Landon. He needed all of her, every bit of her attention. Otherwise how could she will the life back into him?