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.”
Chase lowered his brow. He looked from her to the pastor, and finally to Kelly. “You’re kidding me, right? Just joking?”
“No.” The pastor looked puzzled too. “That’s really what they’re doing. Catching fireflies.”
“But,” even in the dim light of the summer moon, they could all see the shock fill Chase’s expression. “That’s impossible.” He shook his head. “Fireflies aren’t real.”
The pastor and his wife exchanged a slightly baffled look before the man turned to Chase again. “They’re definitely real.” He pointed to the back of the church property. “There are probably hundreds out right now.”
“At least,” Kelly chimed in. “Don’t you see them, Chase? They look like twinkling lights because they turn on and off while they fly.”
Chase was on his feet before she finished her sentence. “Come on,” he took hold of her hand. “Unless I hold one in my hand I won’t believe it.” They moved quickly to the back of the property, but the closer they got to the laughing children, the slower Chase walked. “Those … all those little lights in the air?” He looked at Kelly, sheer amazement in his eyes. “Those are fireflies?”
“Yes.” She laughed from the joy of the moment. “I’ll catch you one.” She ran ahead and in no time she’d snagged one tiny firefly. She cupped her fingers loosely around it and carefully transferred it to Chase’s hand. As she did, the firefly lit up for a few seconds, and then went dark again.
Chase was so shocked, he nearly dropped the little bug, but he held on, staring at it through the cracks between his fingers as it lit up again and again. He was so taken by the wonder and magic of the firefly, that his voice choked up. With the insect still in his hand he looked long and hard into Kelly’s eyes. “Now … now nothing’s impossible. If God gave us fireflies … if fireflies aren’t just the stuff of fairytales and pixie dust, then … then anything I might ever dream is possible.”
Because they were meeting friends they’d never met and because Kelly wanted to remember them, she happened to have a disposable camera in her back pocket. She pulled it out and set the flash, and with the click of the button she captured a memory both of them would hold onto forever.
Many years had passed since then, but even now the wonder in Chase’s eyes made her cry. God had used that moment time and again over the years in Indonesia. They’d be in an impossible situation, facing a complete lack of food or the death of one of the villagers, or a hostile faction of tribal people, and Chase would only have to look at her and say, “If fireflies are real … then God can get us through this.”
Kelly held the picture with two hands and brought it closer, as if by looking intently into the long ago image, she could somehow find her way back to the days of easy wonder and disbelief, the days when nothing seemed impossible. A sudden beautiful realization filled her mind, and in a single heartbeat she knew what she needed to do.
Happy tears streamed down her face and she hugged the picture to her chest. God … I hear You … I’ll do what You say, I promise.
“Mommy?” The tired voice came from behind her, and there was Molly, holding tight to her pink blankie. She padded closer and with tender care she brushed Kelly’s bangs off her forehead. “Why are you crying?”
She couldn’t talk, couldn’t speak over the emotion falling like rain across her parched dry heart. She held up the picture. “See this?”
“Yes. It’s Daddy.” She brought her blanket to her face. “Why does that make you cry?”
“It’s okay, baby.” She set the photo back in the box and hugged her little daughter. “Mommy’s not sad anymore, because I know what I have to do.”
“Did Daddy tell you to do something?” Molly was still running her hand over Kelly’s hair.
“No, baby … I think God did.”
“Oh.” Molly lowered her blanket, suddenly serious. “If God told you to do it, then you better do it.”
“Right.”
Molly yawned and gave Kelly another hug around her neck. “I’m gonna go find Macy, okay? So she can get up.”
She had more control now. As Molly ran from the room calling for her sister, Kelly took a final look at the photo. But as she slid the box back beneath the bed, an idea stopped her. She took the picture from the box and set it on her nightstand. The afternoon suddenly held more promise than all the days of the past week combined. Not because she had any answers to their troubles, or because she missed Chase any less. But because for the first time since Chase started this movie business, she knew exactly what she was supposed to do. And she would do that thing no matter how much work it took.
Because this was something God told her to do.
Twenty-One
BAILEY SPENT ALL THE DAY SATURDAY with her brothers, watching Shawn, Justin, and BJ play soccer, and catching the last half of Ricky’s flag football game. The boys played great, and Bailey loved sitting with her parents and Connor on the sidelines. He was in rehearsal for CKT’s Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, but he was off this morning, so the two of them had the afternoon of sports together.
But even with all that distraction, Bailey couldn’t get the image of Andi and Cody together out of her head. Even if twenty-four hours had passed. Neither of them knew she’d seen them talking in Andi’s car, but she had. And the memory wouldn’t fade.
They went to the five o’clock church service that night—a favorite with the family since the middle school class met then, and since their dad was busy most of Sunday helping coach the Colts. The message was from Romans 5, and Bailey felt like it was written specifically for her, like someone had called ahead on her behalf and given the pastor exactly what she needed.
Romans 5 taught that a person who loved and trusted Jesus didn’t only have the guarantee of salvation, but a great deal of
hope as well. Hope in eternity, hope in knowing God would always be there in the person of the Holy Spirit, and most hard to understand, hope in trials.
Bailey was well aware that compared with people starving in India or being persecuted in China, compared with a homeless man on a busy Los Angeles street or a cancer patient wasting away in a hospital—she had no trouble whatsoever. Not a single trial. But in light of what she’d seen last night, in that sermon she heard the words anew, like she’d never heard them before. The hope came in this: Suffering would eventually develop perseverance, and perseverance would in time create character. And character … the knowing … the knowledge that nothing could change your faith or belief or place with God … that would then bring about hope.
Tim was with his family all day, and the two of them had texted only a few times. Still, last night had been full of laughter and good times. Back at her house after the game they played Catch Phrase and ordered pizza and laughed at BJ’s pronouncement that he wanted some “sally” cream with his burrito. The boys might’ve been home from Haiti for seven years, but there were still times when BJ didn’t quite have the right English phrase to describe what he wanted.
“All this time?” Their dad asked him, the laughter slipping out between his words. “All this time you thought it was sally cream?”
BJ only grinned and shrugged. “Sally cream … sour cream … whatever.”
Bailey and Tim had been sitting by each other, and they laughed until Bailey could barely breathe. BJ had that effect on the family, and all of them loved it. Most of all BJ. So the night was good, and Tim’s hug before he left was sweet and appropriate. He was sticking to his promise not to let things get physical on a regular basis. Kisses would be for special times, infrequent at best.
But all that good hadn’t helped her sleep last night, and it hadn’t stopped her from feeling secretly wounded all day. Not until they were back home did her mom find her and gently put her hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter, honey? You look upset.”
A sad sound came from Bailey’s throat. “You know me too well.”
“I thought I picked up on it last night, but then … you seemed pretty happy with Tim, so I thought maybe it had passed.”
“The message tonight helped.” Bailey closed her eyes and leaned into her mother’s arms. “I just don’t get it, Mom. I keep trying to let it go, but I don’t know … I feel betrayed I guess.”
Her mom put her arms around Bailey’s shoulders, and for a long moment Bailey returned to last night after the game. She was leaving the stadium, walking up the sloped path toward the parking lot wondering why Cody hadn’t at least walked over to say hello, when up ahead she spotted Andi’s blue Jetta. She was shivering from the cold night air, and she hugged herself as she realized what she was seeing.
Andi’s car door was open and someone who looked a lot like Cody was stepping out, his attention still on Andi. She slowed her pace, and as the guy stood she sucked in a fast breath. He was definitely Cody, which meant what? Ever since Cody had left the stadium without talking to her, he’d been sitting here with Andi? Talking to her instead? She didn’t want them to see her, so she blended better with the crowd and didn’t look their way again.
Tim had been walking beside her. He picked up on her instant hurt, and leaned in close so she could hear. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just a little cold.” Bailey really was cold, but she could hardly tell her boyfriend the rest of what was wrong. That she was feeling hurt and betrayed because Cody had spent an hour or so with her roommate.
“You think she’s interested in him?” Her mom drew back and with a light touch she lifted Bailey’s chin so they could see each other. “Wouldn’t Andi have told you?”
“I don’t know.” That’s why for the rest of the night she had to hide her sorrow. It wouldn’t have been fair to Tim to bring down the mood of the evening.
The boys had friends over in the next room, and their dad was reviewing plays for tomorrow. Her mom led her to the coat closet. “Put on something warm. Let’s sit out front and talk.”
Bailey loved this about her mother, how she was always willing to make time for her, no matter what was on Bailey’s mind—whether it was nerves over an audition or a struggle in school, or something about a boy. Lately they’d had several talks about Cody, and always they reached the same conclusion. Cody cared for her, yes. But if he continued to tell Bailey that Tim was better for her, then he must not be very interested.
Bailey and her mom found the warmest coats in the closet, along with an old warm quilt and a pair of scarves. “This ought to keep us warm.” Bailey giggled.
“Even if a blizzard comes up.”
They both laughed as they headed outside and sat down on the first porch swing. Once they were bundled up, Bailey leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. “I like Tim. This isn’t about that, you know?”
“Yes.” Her mom put her arm around Bailey’s shoulders. “Tim’s a very nice boy. The two of you have always seemed right for each other. On paper, anyway.”
“See, that’s just it. Why on paper?” She straightened and looked into her mom’s eyes. “Because that’s the way I feel too. Like he’s great in every way, but I’m still not sure I’m really in love with him.”
“Being in love is a serious thing, honey. You’ve saved yourself physically; it’s okay to save yourself emotionally, as well. That way when you commit yourself in love to a young man, it’ll be incredibly special. You’re still very young to have that forever kind of love.”
Bailey liked the sound of that, and it made her feel less guilty about dating Tim, even though she wasn’t ready to tell him she loved him, or to even feel in love with him. She liked him better this week than last, and the fact that he was opening up more about his feelings made things much nicer between them. She exhaled and set the swing gently in motion. “Which brings us to Cody.”
“Ah, yes.” Her mom’s tone was full and pensive, because no one knew better than her mother what Cody meant to her. “I remember watching that boy come through the door on the Fourth of July, still on crutches, missing his lower left leg. I watched you register the fact, and then let it go.”
“Because it didn’t matter at all.”
“I was upstairs near my bedroom door, so I saw the two of you talking before I went in my room. I thought to myself, No one has ever looked at Bailey like that.” Her mom took a slow breath. “I told your dad that night that I thought Cody adored you, and both of us said we wouldn’t be surprised if the two of you dated.”
“I know. I thought that, too.” Bailey was about to go into how Cody had practically ordered her to keep her feelings to nothing more than friendship. But as she went to explain that moment, her phone in her back pocket rang. She pulled it out and saw in the caller ID window that it was Andi. “Interesting timing,” Bailey muttered. She made a face. “Hold on, okay? I wanna take this.” She snapped open her phone and pressed it to her ear. “Hey, Andi.”
“Hi!” She sounded a little too happy and upbeat. Probably because of her great night with Cody. “So where were you after the game?”
“We came home with the family.” Bailey worked to keep her voice upbeat. “Did you end up going to the game?”
“Yeah. Got there after halftime, though, and guess who I saw?”
“Who?” She wanted to hear the entire story from Andi’s perspective.
“Cody Coleman! He was just leaving as I was getting there, and he told me you had Tim with you.” She stopped only long enough to grab another breath. “I didn’t really have the best night, and I wanted to talk to you so bad. But I figured if you had Tim with you …”
“I still would’ve talked. Tim isn’t glued to my side.”
“I know. But after I ran into Cody we started talking. He ended up sitting in my car through the rest of the game. At the end when people started coming out, we both looked but we never saw you or your brothers or your dad … none of you.”
“Sort of.” Andi’s tone gave her away; she was interested in Cody, no doubt. “We both shared long stories with each other. I told him about my night—which I still have to tell you—and then he told me his story—how come he lived with your family, and why you and he never had a thing.”
Bailey’s heart slammed into doubletime. Cody had talked with Andi about that? Again she didn’t want to sound accusatory or rushed. When she’d allowed the right amount of hesitation, she laughed, as if to say the idea had never crossed her mind. “So, what did he say?”
“He said he’s always been more like a brother to you.” Everything about Andi’s tone told Bailey she felt innocent of any wrongdoing, that her conversation with Cody felt—to Andi at least—like the most natural way to spend an hour on a Friday night.
But Bailey felt her heart crumble at the picture, Cody sharing his thoughts with Andi. She looked at her mom and shook her head, silently telling her that the conversation from Andi wasn’t good. At least not for Bailey.
Andi was saying how they had a lot in common, how Cody knew what it was like to live dangerously, to experience life. “And I told him how sometimes I want that life. You know, since I’ve been so sheltered.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “If I know Cody he didn’t encourage that.”
“No. Definitely not.” She allowed the familiar confusion to enter her tone. “But I told him it’s tough sometimes. Like my date with Jake. I told him you were in love with Tim and happy and enjoying life, but who did God have for me? Since there was no one, I figured I’d go out with Jake because, well … why not? That’s what I told him.”
By now, Bailey really didn’t want to hear about Andi’s date with Jake. Everything about her actions Friday and her conversation with Cody felt like a ploy for attention, somehow. For the first time she wasn’t sure she and Andi could be the best of friends—not if it meant Andi always getting in trouble and then using Cody to talk things over and find direction again. But Bailey couldn’t be rude, so she listened anyway. She heard about the drive to the lake, and the strange feelings Andi had that maybe she was in danger, and the kiss, and Katy and Dayne. All of it.
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