as she walked to the revolving glass door, and Bailey did the same. And after a few seconds, her mom walked out of sight.
A shiver came over Bailey as the realization hit with a finality she’d never felt in all her life. This was it. She was on her own in New York City, ready to tackle her greatest dream and her biggest fears. As she climbed into the car, she reminded herself that everything would be okay, because God had brought her here, and He had provided the perfect place for her to live, the perfect way for her to get safely around the city, and the toughest director in New York City. Bailey smiled through her tears as she climbed back in the car.
She could hardly wait for tomorrow.
Three
THE PAINTING WAS ALMOST FINISHED, AND ASHLEY BAXTER Blake wondered if it might be her best of all. In it there was her husband, Landon, and Cole, her son — the two of them on the Little League field. Cole in his uniform up to bat, and Landon behind him in his manager’s uniform, adjusting his son’s swing, giving him a final pep talk before his turn at bat.
It was a moment Ashley had watched in person a number of times, but here … captured on canvas, there seemed almost no difference between the image in her mind and the one before her. She set her paintbrush down and listened to the noise from downstairs. She could hear the sound of a movie — Prince of Egypt maybe — but there were none of the usual happy voices.
A chill ran down her arms. Ever since he’d come home from his time in the hospital, Landon hadn’t been the same. She worried about him when he left for a walk or when he was out by himself. What if he had another asthma attack? And what if this time no one saw him and the inhaler didn’t work? Her worry was hard on Landon, but Ashley wasn’t sure how to change it. A part of her didn’t think Landon should be out alone, not as long as his lungs were so unstable.
The dynamic was strange, because since they’d first fallen in love, Landon had been the strong one, the stable one. He never let anything faze him, never gave in to the possibility that something might set him off course. From the time they’d first become friends, she was the one with the mood swings, the one who had run off to Paris to paint, and who had come home pregnant and alone. Landon? He was dependable, the one she could count on. Always there, always steady.
But all that had changed in a week.
“Look at it as a vacation,” Ashley had told him. “You haven’t had this much time off in way too long.” But no matter how she tried to convince him, the truth was, he’d been put on medical leave. Until doctors could determine if he really had polymyositis he couldn’t be cleared to return to work.
Polymyositis …
Ashley let the word rumble around in her mind, where it regularly wreaked havoc on her peace and sanity. She had googled the disease for hours but she hadn’t found a single positive anecdote or discussion. The progression was often quick … lung transplants were usually needed once it affected breathing. And after a lung transplant, less than thirty percent of the patients were alive ten years later.
Ashley still didn’t hear anything but the cartoon from downstairs. Her mind began to race, rushing down the stairs ahead of her. What if he collapsed in the bathroom or outdoors with the dog? He paid no attention to the fact that if an attack hit when he was alone, he might not make it out of the attack alive.
She exhaled in a burst, stood, and removed her paint apron. Moving fast enough that she probably looked a little frantic, she hurried to the stairs. “Landon, … are you there?”
No answer. Ashley quickened her pace. Dear God … I can’t keep doing this; he has to find the right medication. Please, Father … wherever he is, help him. He was probably outside by the fishpond. He’d said something about working on it today. But if he’d been outside and passed out he might’ve fallen into the water and then — “Landon!”
“Mommy.” Devin ran from the family room to the bottom of the stairs and met her. “Are you okay? You sound scared.”