Part 7 (1/2)

The scene ended with another song - a duet between the two Scrooges, one where Andi returned to the stage in a lyrical dance intended to represent her moving farther from his life. Again she was graceful, a vision as she moved across the stage.

Bailey watched her, but she was thinking about Cody again. He's probably falling in love with her right now, she told herself. What guy wouldn't be? Her red cloak felt heavier, thicker than before. She must've looked like a set piece compared to Andi. A coat rack, maybe.

Tim glanced back at her, as if she could do something to undo the pa.s.sing of time. Then he turned to Andi once more and launched into his final verse of the song. As it ended, as Andi danced offstage, Tim turned, anguished, to Bailey and took her hand. ”Spirit, remove me from this place. I can bear it no more.” The handhold was a plea, an urging from Scrooge, but Tim held her fingers a little longer than they'd rehea.r.s.ed. His eyes locked onto hers, and though no one from the audience - not even the director - could've told he was breaking character in any way, he did. For a flicker in time, the longing in his eyes was as intense as it had been when he stared at Isabelle. Only this was real, Bailey had no doubt. And it was aimed at her.

The incident was over almost as soon as it began, but it left Bailey breathless. She wanted to smile, but she couldn't, because the Ghost of Christmas Past certainly did not smile. But inside she was giddy. Tim might as well have stopped the action and announced to all the room that Andi couldn't turn his head. Not when he was in love with Bailey.

She felt herself stand a little taller as the scene wound down and as she delivered her final lines - lines that warned Scrooge to love today, while time still allowed. ”There is never enough time to say or do the things you want in this life, never enough time to love the way you want to love,” she told him. ”We are only here for a little while, Scrooge, and then we are gone.”

With that, she took the same slow, otherworldly steps off the stage, ignoring Tim's pleas that she stay with him, that she allow him to live a little longer in the past. As soon as she stepped into the wings, she fell against the wall and remembered the moment with Tim again. Suddenly her own lines came back to her. ”Never enough time to love the way you want to love...” So why was she wasting her time thinking about Cody? She was dating an amazing guy, one she'd looked up to all her life. He had none of Cody's crazy past. He'd never been drunk or slept with a girl, and on top of all that he cared enough to know exactly how she felt in the midst of their scene.

Whatever her feelings for Cody, however she'd been frustrated by him, none of that mattered. Tim was a great guy, and he'd proved that out there on the stage, not caring if anyone caught what he was doing or not. Her heart felt lighter than it had all day.

She removed her red cloak and listened as Tim and the Ghost of Christmas Present sang one of Bailey's favorite songs from the show. ”I like life ... life likes me ... life and I fairly fully agree ...”

Bailey couldn't agree more. She worried about Andi's choices, and yes, if Cody fell for her there would be times when Bailey would hurt. But she had Tim, and in light of that sweet moment on stage, she couldn't be happier.

Tim was wonderful in the final scene of the first act, and Bailey watched his every move, silently cheering for him. As the curtain fell at the beginning of intermission, Bailey waited for him in the shadows.

He started to pa.s.s by, the area too dark to make out shapes or people. ”Tim,” she whispered as loud as she could without being heard on the other side of the curtain.

”Bailey?” He was out of breath, adrenaline and exhilaration no doubt racing through his veins.

”Here.” She reached out and touched his arm. ”You were amazing.”

”You too.”

They couldn't hang out in the wings for long. The director would expect them to report to the greenroom to hear his notes on the first act and to receive any last-minute direction for the second half of the show. But they had a few minutes at least.

”I mean, I kept believing you were really Scrooge.”

He came nearer, facing her. Even this close and as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, he looked like an old man.

”I love this. I could perform in New York, you know?”

”You could.”

”You too. Seriously, Bailey, you should've been Isabelle. You're so good.”

She should've been Isabelle? Bailey opened her mouth to thank him, to tell him that was the exact thing she needed to hear, but the words got jumbled on the way up from her heart. Instead she slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him. Finally, when she was sure of her voice, she pulled back and searched his eyes. ”Thank you.”

Here was further proof that something was building between them, something that hadn't been there before. Tim didn't ask what Bailey was thanking him for. He didn't have to. Instead his voice softened. ”I wanted you to know that my character might desire Isabelle -” He brushed his cheek against hers. ”But I want you, Bailey. Only you.”

Her heart responded by pounding in her chest, and she wanted more than anything to kiss him. A quick kiss wouldn't have violated any university theater rule, but again this wasn't the time. So she eased from his arms and grinned at him. ”Come on. We need to get back.”

Bailey played a townsperson in the second act, and everyone in the cast gave their all as the show ran down. In the final scene, when Tim sang about being ready to begin again, Bailey wanted to join him. If ever she'd been ready to truly move on it was here, tonight. Not until she was back on stage and staring at a standing ovation did she realize perhaps the most important thing about the night - something that hadn't happened since the moment Tim looked at her that way in the middle of their scene.

She hadn't thought about Cody once.

Nine.

FROM HIS PLACE IN THE BACK of the theater, Cody watched the actors take the stage for their curtain call. He could've been wrong, but he sensed a change in Bailey, something he couldn't pinpoint or put into words. Up until now, on the rare times when he and Bailey shared a few words or a conversation, he sensed she still had feelings for him.

Just not enough feelings to walk away from Tim Reed.

But now? There seemed to be some new and stronger chemistry between Bailey and Tim, and as the applause began to die down and the houselights came up, Cody watched Tim sling his arm around Bailey's shoulders, both of them laughing as they walked offstage with the cast.

He looked away. At the other side of the theater near the front were Bailey's parents and brothers, people who just a year or so ago had been his family. He thought about crossing the theater to say h.e.l.lo, but they would be looking for Tim now. Not him.

”I see you.” His mother leaned in close. She was still clapping, but she made sure he could hear her voice over the noise of the audience.

Cody turned to her, his expression blank. ”See what?”

”How you look at her.”

”Andi?” Cody s.h.i.+fted and watched Andi saunter toward the edge of the stage. She was still waving at the crowd. He had told his mom that he and Andi were becoming better friends and that she'd asked him to her opening night. He nodded as his eyes found his mom's again. ”She was beautiful. Perfect.”

His mother had been absent for so much of his life, trapped by her demons and addictions. She had missed much, but not anymore. These days she was going to church with a few friends from her alcohol recovery cla.s.s, and she'd been sober longer than he could ever remember. They were actually building a relations.h.i.+p for the first time.

She looked at him and raised a brow. ”Not Andi.” She held up her copy of the Scrooge program and pointed to a photo just inside the front cover. ”Bailey Flanigan. You couldn't take your eyes off her.”

With everything in him, Cody wanted her to be wrong. Bailey wasn't interested. She was dating Tim, and that was that. Especially tonight, when something very special seemed to linger between the two of them. Andi was striking, gorgeous as Isabelle. In his high school days, back when he was a jerk to just about every girl he came across, Cody wouldn't have had the ability to see past Andi Ellison.

His mom was still looking at him, and he felt something crack in his resistance. Finally he drew a long breath and admitted just enough. ”I've cared about her longer.” The crowd was filing out, moving past them, and Cody was in a hurry to talk about the play or where they were going afterwards for coffee. Anything else. Bailey and he were a thing of the past for lots of reasons. He wasn't comfortable having his mom look straight into his heart, not when he hadn't quite given her viewing privileges.

But they were at the end of their row, and before they could file out, she touched his arm and waited until he looked at her again. ”It's okay, Cody. I've known for a long time.”

”Known what?” He tried to sound neutral rather than frustrated.

Her voice grew nostalgic. ”How you feel about that girl. How you've always felt.”

”Mom.” He forced an exhale. ”No offense, but you weren't around when Bailey and I were friends. And that's all we were. We've never been anything more.”

”I wasn't around much.” Her eyes were heavy with the pain from years lost. ”But when I got out, when I came home ... I saw the way you looked when you talked about her. I knew then.” She had to look up to him, but she put her hand on his cheek. ”And I know now.”

”Mom.” He didn't want to talk about Bailey. Not with his mom, anyway. He was trying to build something new with her, which meant he didn't want to look backward. Not regarding his mom, and certainly not regarding Bailey. When it came to the ins and outs of his heart, she was hardly a qualified expert. He smiled at her. ”Can we talk about something else?”

”It's just -” She let her hand fall back to her side. Her face grew concerned, almost worried. ”Cody ... I like the Flanigan family, but ... I don't want you to get hurt. You've been hurt enough.”

He was suddenly aware of his prosthetic lower leg and his lonely afternoons and a lifetime of not knowing his mother - and, mixed together, he hated how it made him feel. ”Mom, please.” He was not a victim. Not because of his war injury or his past, or anything Bailey might mean to him. ”I'm not hurt. I'm fine.”

She ceded with a slight nod, and her eyes s.h.i.+fted to the sticky floor between them. ”I'm sorry. I just ... I worry about you.”

”Don't. I can take care of myself.” He couldn't get angry with her. It was too late for that. He put his arm around her shoulders and gradually walked her down the aisle toward the door. She was trying, something he'd prayed for. His frustration gave way to kindness, confidence. In this, their new relations.h.i.+p, he was the leader, the stronger one. He had almost forgotten that. ”So ... what'd you think of the show?”

”Good.” Her smile was tentative, but she understood. The conversation about Bailey was over. ”Very good, really. The guy playing Scrooge was amazing.”