In some ways the ordeal reminded Bailey of how things had been after the other car accident, the one that killed Sarah Jo Stryker and Ben Hanover, the little brother of one of the CKT kids. That time a drunk driver had done the damage, and Bailey had spent weeks afterwards being so furious she could hardly concentrate in school. In the end, a bunch of them had gone to the jail and met with the guy. He was young, still a teenager. All the CKT kids who went made a line, and one at a time they approached him and told him they forgave him.
Nothing had ever made Bailey feel so good. And even though the anger had returned dozens of times since then, always she would remember the drunk driver’s face and how he’d wept because he didn’t deserve to be forgiven.
“That,” her mother had told them when they reached the car that afternoon, “is the way all of us should feel when we come to Christ. He steps into our lives and offers us forgiveness we don’t deserve. And all we can do is open our hearts and weep over His amazing grace.”
Her mom’s words had stayed with her, but now the anger was back in a different way. Anger toward the paparazzi. All Dayne wanted to do was get to the airport. He was supposed to make it to the retreat-center auditorium in time to see The Wiz, but instead he never even made it on the plane. All because a dozen photographers were chasing him down some highway.
The situation was wrong, and the only way Bailey could keep it from eating at her day and night was by taking action. She’d created a MySpace page where she and the kids from CKT could post prayers and messages for Dayne and Katy. That way when he woke up—and he would wake up; she had to believe that—he and Katy could see the page and know how much people cared about them.
Computers at the Flanigan house were kept in the open in an alcove off the main walkway through the kitchen. There were three computers in that space, and Bailey sat down at the middle one. The boys were already in bed, even Connor. Auditions for CKT’s Cinderella were in two days, and he wanted to make sure he wasn’t run-down. She moved the mouse and brought the computer to life. At the same time she heard the front door open. She looked at the time on the screen. Just before nine o’clock.
“Cody, is that you?” Her mother was in the kitchen slicing vegetables for her homemade soup.
“Yep,” he called from the entrance. “Right on time.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. She typed in the address for MySpace and waited. Cody was always coming home right before curfew. He had a car, and when he lived at home with his mother—before she was sent to jail—he could come home at any hour, day or night. Now he agreed with Bailey’s parents that structure was a good thing. But he never came home early.
She heard him walk down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Did I miss dinner?”
The page popped up before Bailey looked over her shoulder. “A long time ago.”
“Hey—” Cody grinned at her—“I didn’t see you there.” He took the seat next to her. “Whatcha doing?”
“Checking MySpace.”
“You’re still into that?” He stretched out his legs and came very close to brushing up against hers.
“No. It’s not for me.” She slid over, making sure there was ample space between them. Everything about Cody was wrong for her, but no matter what he did to bug her—flirting with Katy, coming home late, or hanging out with the senior girls from school—she couldn’t stay mad at him. And she couldn’t stop herself from being attracted to him. She was breathing, after all. “It’s for Dayne. It’s the prayer page I made for him and Katy. You have to know the password to get in.”
“Oh.” Cody’s voice held a level of remorse. “Do you have your own page?”
“Not since a year ago. It’s too crazy, too much gossip.” She glanced at him. “I have enough in my life without finding it on MySpace.”
He winced. “Why do I think there’s a message in that for me?”
She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Think what you want.” She turned her attention to the computer screen. The main photo was a picture of Katy and Dayne taken at the Baxter house during the dinner they’d all had there in July. Where the usual profile was, Bailey had posted this message:
As you know, Dayne Matthews was in a serious car accident. Katy Hart is staying with him in Los Angeles until he recovers. At this time, we’re asking everyone to post prayers and messages for Dayne and Katy. He’s in a coma, and when he comes out of it, we want both of them to know how much we love them and how much we’re looking forward to having him move to Bloomington, where the paparazzi won’t be chasing him everywhere he goes.
Beneath her message were the posts from other people. Bailey had sent an e-mail to every family who had ever participated in CKT, giving them the password and asking them to keep the board private. The last thing they needed was the media finding out about Dayne’s plans to marry Katy and move to Bloomington.
“Scroll down.” Cody leaned in. Whatever cologne he was wearing—Abercrombie or Hollister—it smelled wonderful. Bailey tried not to notice.
She did as he asked, and together they read the most recent messages. There was one from Tim Reed that referred to the few times Tim had met Dayne. We’re all pulling for you. Can’t wait to see you make a full recovery.
After that was a message from one of the Shaffers and a beautiful prayer by Stephen Pick. The next message was in a weird font. The type size was a mix of small and large letters. As soon as Bailey started to read it, she felt her heart slam into double time.
Dayne Matthews is nothing but a vegetable. All you people are wasting your time. Give up and get a life.
Bailey shrieked. She stood and smacked her hand against the computer screen.
“Hey—” her mother’s tone carried a warning—“you didn’t pay for that.”
“I know.” She dropped back to her seat. “I’m sorry.” She made a fist and pounded it on the counter. “How can they say that? And how did someone who isn’t part of CKT get the password?”
“What happened?” Her mom must’ve put down the cabbage she was cutting. Bailey could hear her footsteps coming up behind her.
Bailey pointed to the screen. “Read that.” She wanted to scream, but her voice broke instead. “How can someone say such a thing?”
She didn’t want to cry, not with Cody sitting next to her.
When her mom finished reading it, she hugged Bailey’s shoulders from behind. “I’m sorry, honey. That’s a lie and it’s mean.”
The phone rang, and her mom gave her shoulder a final pat. “Let me get that. It’s probably Katy.” Bailey heard her walk across the kitchen to the far windows, toward the phone.
So far Cody hadn’t said anything. But now that they were alone he put his arm around Bailey’s shoulders. “That’s terrible. The idiot has the sensitivity of a pit bull.”
Bailey wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but having Cody’s arm around her took the edge off her anger. He gave her a sideways hug and then released her. Even then he leaned in close. “Here. Slide over a little.”
She did, and he moved into her spot. His hands hovered over the keyboard, and he pulled up a message form. In the box provided he typed: Whoever said Dayne Matthews is a vegetable is a moron. Dayne is in a coma, and the doctors think he’s going to pull out of it. You should be begging God for a miracle, not assuming the worst. Whoever you are, this is a private board. Stay off. Cody hit the Enter button. The message showed up immediately.
The anger Bailey felt a moment earlier was gone. She wasn’t even sure what to say. She blinked back tears so Cody wouldn’t see her cry. “That . . . that was the nicest thing, Cody.”
He stood and took hold of her hands. Then he pulled her to her feet and slipped his arms around her.
His hug was nothing more than what she’d seen him give her mother a time or two, but her head swam all the same. A part of her didn’t ever want him to let go.
“It’s okay to cry, Bailey. You don’t have to always be so strong.”
She pressed her head agains
t his chest and held on. “I can’t believe it happened again. Another car accident.”
“I know.” He ran his hand over her back. “That’s why it’s okay to be sad.” In the background, they heard her mom wrapping up her phone call. Cody eased back and put his hands on her shoulders again. “Hey.” He searched her eyes.
The space around the computers was dark, and the moment felt strangely forbidden. Bailey tried to exhale. “What?”
“Sometimes you treat me like the enemy. How come?”
“Because.” She couldn’t meet his gaze another second. She looked down. Something about the moment, about the way he’d come to her rescue a few minutes ago, made Bailey more honest than she’d ever been before. She found his eyes again. “I don’t want to like you. That’s why.”
He gave her a goofy smile. “Me?” He angled his head, his eyes looking way past the surface of her heart. “What did I ever do to you, Miss Bailey Flanigan? You’re the one with the boyfriend.”
A nervous giggle escaped her before she could stop it. “You flirt with every girl in sight. Here . . . at school.” She tried to find her polished persona, the one she could usually whip out whenever Cody was around. But it wasn’t there. “You’re here because my family loves you, but you’re a player. I can never, ever fall for you.” She gently took his hands from her shoulders and returned them to his sides. “I promised my parents.”
Cody looked hurt. “Really?”
“Yeah. Nothing against you, but . . . well, you know. My dad isn’t, like, in the dark about your reputation. He wants me to see you as a brother.” She grinned at him. The air between them changed; the danger from a few heartbeats ago had passed. “Most of the time it’s pretty easy to do that.”
“Oh.” The hurt was gone, or at least he was no longer letting it show. “All right, Sis, so here’s my new goal.”
Bailey couldn’t stop her eyes from dancing. She could feel the way they shone all the way to her core. The guy’s charm was beyond anything even he could’ve understood. “What?”
“By the time I leave for college, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you saw a change in me. Tell me that I’m not a player anymore.”
“Really?” Bailey heard the teasing in her voice. “Pretty big order.”
“Only say it if it’s true.” He reached out and touched the side of her face. The sort of thing Connor had done a time or two when he was giving her a compliment. The lightheartedness in his voice faded. “And it will be. I promise.”
Her mother walked up just then. She hesitated, looking from Bailey to Cody and back again. “Did I miss something?”
“Yes.” Bailey recovered quickly. She would tell her mom everything later—she always did. But she didn’t want Cody to know that. “Cody was just telling me how he doesn’t want to be a player anymore.”
“Turning over a new leaf, huh?” Her mom gave Cody a doubtful smile. “That’s what we’re praying for. It’s why you’re here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Good night, Mrs. Flanigan.” He chuckled and nodded toward Bailey’s mother. But then he shifted his attention to her, and there was something deeper in his look. “Good night, Bailey.”
“Good night.” Her cheeks felt hot.
When Cody had walked down the hall to the downstairs guest room and they heard him close the door behind him, Bailey’s mom gave her a questioning look. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know.” Bailey dropped to her seat and pressed her palms against her hot cheeks. “He’s so confusing.”
Her mom didn’t look concerned. There was a trust between them, one that was stronger than any of her friends had with their mothers. “Wanna tell me about it?”
Bailey exhaled, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. “I wish my cheeks would cool off.”
“What did he say while I was on the phone?”
“Okay, so you know that horrible post, the one about Dayne?”
Her mom took the seat next to her and looked at the computer screen. “Yes.”
“Well, as soon as the phone rang, Cody had me move and he took over on the computer. He left a message saying that whoever made that post was a moron.” She made a dreamy-sounding sigh. “Wasn’t that so nice of him, Mom?”
She put her hand on Bailey’s knee. “Remember what we talked about before Cody moved in with us.” She raised her eyebrows. “You promised, Bailey.”
“I know.” She tried to sound sensible. “When I think about his past and the girls he’s flirting with and how he could fall back into drinking at any moment, I’m not interested. Of course I’m not interested.” She felt her expression soften. “Except why does he have to smell so good?”
Her mom laughed quietly under her breath. “How’s Tanner doing?”
“Good. He and I are talking more. Whenever Dad’s not driving him into the ground at football practice.” Bailey smiled and thought for a moment. “He’s really more like a great friend than a boyfriend, you know? He doesn’t ever pressure me.”
“He respects you.” Her mom slid a little closer so their knees were touching. “And Tim?”
“I don’t know.” Bailey had seen a change in her CKT friend. He was driving now, and he seemed to spend more time with his church friends than before. “He’s not interested in me.”
“What about Bryan Smythe?”
“I’m not sure. He says all the right things, but I never see him. Only at CKT stuff. He’s a player too. Just like Cody.”
“That’s the nature of a teenage boy, Bailey.” Her tone was kind, gentle. “Eventually they grow up. But between now and then it can be a lot of heartache. You’re lucky you have a friend in Tanner Williams.”
“Yeah.” She blew at a piece of her bangs. She wore them to the side these days, and they needed cutting. “None of the other guys are worth liking. Not at this point.”
“Well then, that means our prayers are being answered.”
“Prayers?” Bailey loved these moments when no one else was around and she and her mom could share their hearts so easily.
“Yes.” She reached out and framed Bailey’s face with her hands. “Since you were born we’ve prayed for you. Your father and I. We prayed that God would make you into that one-in-a-million girl who wouldn’t be dragged into something you’d regret. We prayed that love wouldn’t really awaken in you until it was God’s timing. These years are for you and God, so you’ll become who He wants you to be.”
Bailey smiled. She’d heard this before, but she never grew tired of knowing that her parents loved her enough to pray that way for her. She did a quick survey of her life. “If the guys I know are any indication, I’d definitely agree. God’s answering your prayers big-time.”
Her mother’s smile fell, and she lowered her hands to her lap. “We need to pray about something else too.”
Bailey’s heart raced, thinking it must be about Katy. Every other time she had called, the news had been the same: No change. Keep praying. But this time her mother looked almost sick. Whatever the news was, it couldn’t be good. “Was that Katy on the phone?”
“Yes. She talked to the doctor today.”
“And . . . ?”
“The news was pretty clear-cut. If Dayne doesn’t come out of the coma sometime in the next week to ten days, the possibility of his ever coming out goes down to only 5 percent.”
“What?” Bailey shrieked the way she had when she read the awful message. Then she waved her apology, lowered her voice, and tried again. Already there were fresh tears in her eyes. “Only 5 percent? That’s really what they told her?”
“If he comes out now, there’s still a chance for recovery.” Her mom sounded defeated. “But if we go another ten days at the most, the doctors want Katy to know the situation will be very, very serious.”
Bailey gripped the edge of the counter and slid her chair in front of the keyboard. “That means I need to post a message telling everyone to pray extra hard these next ten days. Because Dayne ha
s to wake up, Mom.” Two tears splashed onto her cheeks. “He can’t just lie there the rest of his life. Katy loves him too much for that.”
“She does. You’re right. We have to believe in miracles.” Her mom pulled her into a hug.
Bailey cherished the feeling, safe in her mother’s arms, believing Dayne would receive a miracle and knowing that even if they ran out of time, God could still pull him through somehow. Because that’s what her mother believed. And at that moment, Bailey would rather be in her mom’s arms than anyone else’s.
Even Cody Coleman’s.
Before Bailey went to bed, she and her mom bowed their heads and asked God to wake up Dayne Matthews—the sooner the better—and to bring about healing for Dayne and Katy and anyone else who was hurting tonight because of what had happened.
Luke went online before he left for work in the morning and searched for Hollywood gossip magazines. The rest of his family had apparently been photographed by paparazzi—in Bloomington, of all places. New issues hit the stands each Monday, so if they were doing a story on the Baxter family it would appear today.
He did a quick check through three of the magazines but found nothing except more stories on Dayne. How he was still fighting for his life, and—according to the ever-available “sources”—he might never recover fully even if he did come out of the coma.
The stories focused equally on Katy Hart and the bedside vigil she was keeping. Each was accompanied by photos of Katy rushing through the doors of the hospital or getting into a car or walking into a hotel. In several pictures she had her hand or her purse up, shielding her face. Every shot made her look weary and frightened. Desperate to be free from the paparazzi—same as Dayne must’ve been.
The articles also detailed the prognosis of Dayne’s injuries. He would keep his leg, but doctors questioned whether he would ever walk normally again. Also, the stories cited statistics on brain injuries—how the vast majority leave at least some lingering damage, and how in a great percentage of the cases after waking from a coma, the victims are simply not the people they were before the injury.
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