“So, in some ways I guess I did what I set out to do. I had my first kiss with Jake Olson. But it obviously wasn’t great, or I wouldn’t have come looking for you.” She paused. “Cody could tell I’d been crying. That’s why we started talking in the first place.”
Bailey’s mom was watching her, so she stopped herself from rolling her eyes again. She had told her mom before that she hated when she started feeling bitter toward anyone. This was one of those times. The call didn’t last much longer. Andi said she had homework to finish, and Bailey wanted alone-time with her mother.
“That didn’t sound so good.” Her mom’s tone wasn’t probing, just concerned. Again she put her arm over Bailey’s shoulders.
“No. You should’ve heard her, Mom.” As she went to close her phone, it vibrated and a text message came through. Bailey glanced at the small window on the front and saw it was from Tim. “Just a minute.” She flipped open her phone and read the message on the bigger screen. Just missing you, B … asking God to give you the hug I can’t give you tonight.
Bailey smiled and held it up for her mother to see. “You know how good it is to hear that right now?”
“Tim’s matured a lot.” Her mom smiled at the message and then at Bailey. “That was a very kind thing to say.”
“Just that he’s praying for me and he reaches out like that.” She crossed her arms and settled back against the cushion of the chair swing. “Cody walked right past me yesterday at the game without saying a word.”
“Well, now …” her mom angled her head, a doubtful look on her face, “to be fair, you were with Tim. I saw him look at you as he left. I figured he probably felt uncomfortable coming over when you were with your boyfriend.”
“But why?” Bailey would never understand Cody, not the way he was since he’d been home from Iraq. She tossed her hands and let them fall in her lap. “He’s the one who’s always talking about being friends, and what a great guy Tim is for me. If that’s how he feels then he should be glad I’m with my boyfriend.”
“Bailey.” Her mom’s tone said that she didn’t for a minute believe that. “Come on, honey, that’s not how Cody feels. I told you I saw the look in his eyes when he was here on the Fourth. He adores you, but maybe …” her expression grew thoughtful and she looked out into the night, “maybe he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you. He still sees himself as having a lot of baggage.”
“But he’s overcome all that.”
“He might not think so.” She put her hand over Bailey’s.
“He should.” Bailey heard her voice rise some, and she worked to bring it down again. “He loves God now, and he doesn’t drink. He doesn’t hang out with the kind of girls he went after in high school, and he survived being a prisoner in Iraq.” Bailey wanted to believe that her mom was right, that Cody’s strange behavior was all because his feelings for her were so deep. He’d sort of said that in his letter more than a week ago. But in person his words didn’t make it seem like he was longing for her, thinking he wasn’t good enough. She turned sad eyes to her mom. “He told Andi that he’s always been like a brother to me.”
Her mom’s lips lifted in just the hint of a smile, as if she had much to help Bailey understand but she wasn’t sure where to start. “Let’s say I’m right. Let’s say his deepest feelings are for you alone, okay?”
“Okay.” It felt good to think about, even if it weren’t true.
“He runs into your roommate and the two of them end up talking. If the subject of Tim came up—”
“Which it did.” Bailey always wondered how her mother knew so much. She could almost predict how the conversation with Andi had gone, even though she hadn’t heard any of it. She frowned. “Andi told Cody I was in love with Tim.”
“See?” Her smile grew. “So there’s Cody, and what’s he supposed to say when Andi asks him to explain the two of you, how come you never got together? He certainly isn’t going to tell a girl he barely knows that he’s hoping someday soon you and Tim will break up, or that he has deeper feelings for you than he’s let on. I mean, honey, if he won’t tell you, he won’t tell her.”
Bailey breathed in slowly, letting the possibility take root in her heart. Her mother could be right, but there was one flaw in her reasoning. “When he’s with me, he doesn’t have to tell me he thinks Tim’s better for me. He can be nice and everything, and respect the fact that I have a boyfriend, but if he has such deep feelings for me he should at least give me a hint.”
“It would help, wouldn’t it?” Her mom shivered a little. “It’s getting colder.”
“There’s one more thing. Maybe Cody didn’t say he had feelings for me because while he was sitting there with stunning Andi Ellison he began having feelings for her. Isn’t that possible?”
Her mom seemed to weigh out the idea. “I guess.”
“And meanwhile I have Tim sending me the sweetest messages and really being there for me, telling me he cares and he only wants to take things slow out of respect for me.”
“I’ll say this,” her smile was full of pride. “Both guys in your life respect you. That’s proof that you’ve really let your character shine for God, sweetie. Your dad and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
Her heart warmed. “Thanks.”
“What if you’re right? How will that affect your friendship with Andi?”
“That’s what I don’t know. I mean, I hate the fact that she spent an hour talking with him, the two of them sitting in her car like that.” She let some of her frustration fade. “But I don’t have a right to be upset. I guess … if you’re wrong and he only sees me as a sister, then I should be happy for him. You know, if he ends up liking Andi.”
Her mom winced. “That’d be tough.”
“But it would be right.”
“Yes.” Her mom nodded slowly. “It would definitely be right.”
“What if this …” an idea began to take shape in her mind. “What if Cody was brought into our lives so we could help him get away from all the girls and partying, and so he could find God … all so that one day he could meet the real love of his life, the girl God has set apart for him.” She didn’t want to finish her thought, but she had to get it out. “And what if that girl is Andi Ellison?” She felt sick at the thought. “How could I be mad at either of them or at God … you know, if that’s His plan?”
Her mom searched her eyes. “You amaze me, Bailey. You have wisdom beyond your years.”
“But seriously, Mom. I mean, I couldn’t fight that if it was God’s plan all along.”
“That doesn’t mean it would be easy.” She tapped Bailey’s cell phone. “But then there’s Tim. And here’s the greatest part.” She gave Bailey a long side hug. “God has it figured out. All you have to do is keep learning, keep loving Him, keep living the life you’ve been living.”
“Right.” Bailey felt the weight of the possibility heavy against her heart. As she and her mom gathered the blanket and headed inside she knew for certain she couldn’t stay angry at either Andi or Cody. Even now she only wanted to give them both a hug and tell them she couldn’t stay mad. She cared for both of them, and like Tim, she was absolutely sure God had put them in her life for a reason. If that reason included her actually cheering them on, happy for them if they fell for each other, then Bailey couldn’t be upset about that either. She couldn’t be mad at them. Not for spending an hour talking in the car, or for sharing secrets when Bailey wasn’t around. Not even if they fell in love.
Even if she had no idea how she’d live with that hurt.
Twenty-Two
THE MONEY WAS RUNNING OUT. IT was late into the third week of filming, and they had enough in the bank for another week or so, but that was all. Chase had sat down with Keith a number of times and gone over the books. No matter how they tried to cut corners or stretch the funds they were working with, the answer was always the same. Statistically, financially, it was impossible for them to finish the film without additional investor mone
y coming in.
Keith even considered flying out to LA and trying to get a meeting with Ben Adams’ assistant. Last time he’d called, the secretary had been short with him, telling him Ben was out of the country indefinitely. Other possibilities remained dried up.
It was late Thursday, and Chase wanted more than anything to stop thinking about the financial crisis at hand. Because the sad irony was this—the footage they were getting from their cast and crew continued to be amazing. If only they could find more investors, they would have a movie that might be accepted into the film festivals, a movie that studios would fight for the rights to distribute. The Last Letter could touch the lives of people everywhere and make them think again about faith and family and the future God had for them. If that happened, the investors would be paid back in spades, and they could take their moviemaking to the next level—reaching the world with a message of truth and hope and changed lives.
But without an immediate influx of cash from investors, none of it would happen at all.
Chase was walking back to base camp when the director of photography caught up with him. “You seeing this stuff, man? I mean the dailies must be keeping you up at night they’re so good.” He was a veteran, an expert with more than a hundred films to his credit. “Something special like this film only comes along once every few years.” He gave Chase a hearty pat on the back. “This is that film, man. I mean it. This is that film.”
The truth hung over everything Chase did. If something didn’t happen soon—and their accountant and investment team had run out of options—then they would have one of the best movies never finished. Sure, they could pack up and return home to San Jose, and they could knock on the doors of every millionaire they knew looking for an extra hundred thousand. But time would pass and things would change. The actors would move on to the next project, and by the time Hollywood came to strike agreements, the crew would be back to work on other films or TV shows. Only one hope remained for them now. An investor would have to come through.
One bit of great news was that Chase had given an interview to an Entertainment Tonight reporter yesterday about the progress of the film. He’d done everything in talking with the reporter to hint that they needed financial help, without signaling disaster to the cast and crew and investors that would likely watch the program.
The DP had moved on, so while Chase walked across the street to the eating area, he let the interview play again in his mind, every line, analyzing his answers and assuring himself that he’d done and said what he could.
The reporter had been very upbeat and positive—something that wasn’t always the case with people doing the interviews. He’d flown out the day before so he could watch some of the dailies and interview Jake Olson and Rita Reynolds.
For his talk with Chase, the guy set up with a scenic part of IU’s campus in the background. “This is the first big picture you and Keith Ellison have worked on, and rumor on the street is that you have something very special on your hands.” The reporter’s smile would’ve told anyone watching that he, too, thought the film was special. “What’s your secret out here in Bloomington?”
Chase had an easy way about him on film, so though Keith had more acting experience, they’d chosen Chase to be the point person for this interview. He smiled easily at the guy and kept his answer equally full of humility and intrigue. “We have an extremely talented cast and crew,” he let his expression grow more serious. “The script is amazing, very powerful. All that and a lot of help from above.”
The reporter didn’t visibly chafe at that last part, but he furrowed his brow. “You mention help from above. I understand you and your co-producer were Christian missionaries several years ago, and that there was some confusion early in the filming that maybe this was a Christian movie, that the cast had been tricked into signing onto the project. Can you talk to that issue?”
“Yes,” Chase laughed, his tone the same affable, slightly baffled one he would’ve had if the guy had asked him why the sky was blue. “We did have that conversation and it went quite well. Keith talked to everyone on the set and told them that while the two of us are Christians, and while we think the film packs a powerful message, it isn’t being marketed as a Christian movie.” Chase went on to explain that there had been some very well-received Christian movies in recent years, and that there was certainly a market for those films. “But our goal is to reach the masses, the people who might not line up to buy a ticket for a movie that’s outspokenly Christian.”
“Meaning your film is clean with no cussing or explicit sex scenes?”
“Definitely you won’t see any of that in our movies.” Chase brought his laughter down some and got serious again. “We want more than a clean film, though. We want a film that will literally change lives. That’s why we’re doing this.”
The reporter nodded. “Impressive. I spoke with Jake Olson and Rita Reynolds, and they said the same thing. They were taken by the story of The Last Letter and they felt compelled to star in it.” He gave a disbelieving shake of his head. “And you’re doing it all on an independent budget of just a couple million, is that right?”
“Well, I can say this—we’re always looking for investors. But yes,” he felt his strength building as he spoke, “we feel very strongly about remaining independent through the making of the movie. That way we retain creative control, and the movie won’t become something we never intended it to be.”
“I’ve seen some of the dailies, and I have to agree with the rumors.” He turned and faced the camera. “The Last Letter is a movie you won’t want to miss, being made by a couple of producers who are doing it their way. You gotta admire that in today’s world.” He signed off and shook Chase’s hand. “Seriously, you’ve got a special picture coming together here. The movie is Oak River Films’ The Last Letter.” He turned to Chase once more. “I wish you the best of luck.”
Scoring the interview was no easy feat. The show had called a week ago with the possibility of a story, but only a remote one. They’d been praying about it since then with no word, and Chase and Keith were well aware of the victory in having the film recognized at all—especially this early in the process. But the reporter had been noncommittal about when the piece would air, and even whether it would air before the movie wrapped.
It was one more thing to pray for—that the piece would show up on national TV in time to catch the attention of that one investor who might then be drawn to the project. The interview was in many ways their last desperate hope at getting the money they needed. Otherwise they’d have to contact Entertainment Tonight and tell them to pull the story. No sense running a feature about a movie that never wrapped.
Chase grabbed a plate of chicken and baked beans from the food truck and took his place across from Keith and Lisa at the end of one of the tables. Most nights the cast and crew sat at separate tables, leaving distance between themselves and the producers. Tonight was no exception. As Chase sat down he realized the weight of the burden he was carrying, the fact that they were nearly out of money.
“Well,” he slid forward and looked directly at Keith and his wife. They were far enough from the others that no one else could hear him. “I don’t know if I can take much more of this.” He smiled big, so that anyone watching might’ve believed his conversation was about the great-tasting chicken or the nice warm day they’d had. No matter what, he wouldn’t let the others see him down. The actors and cameramen, the assistant director and DP, all of them took their cues from Chase and Keith. There were concerns working on such a tight budget, a sense of slight relief every time payday rolled around and they received their checks. It was that way with any independent film. Now, with the project in trouble, Chase didn’t dare show his weariness or the fact that his fear was all but consuming him.
“We were just talking about it.” Lisa took a bite of her beans and looked down. “Keith had another lead earlier today.”
“But it fell through.” Keith’s expression was p
eaceful, steadfast. “We just got word an hour ago.”
“Unbelievable.” Chase focused on his chicken. He felt like they were talking almost in code, so careful not to let anyone else feel the gravity of their dialogue. “I keep thinking, I mean … why would God lead us here only to let us fall?”
“We don’t know we’re going to fall.” Keith’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Something could happen. The feature story could run on ET and someone could come forward.”
Chase finished chewing his chicken, his mind trying to find a realistic way of looking at the possibility. “I’ve been telling myself that same thing, how someone could see the feature and come looking for us.” He lifted his eyes, and produced another smile for appearances. “But when I really think about it, I picture some possible investor sitting on his leather sofa flipping channels and coming across our story. He watches, but he’s not really thinking anything more than how maybe he’d like to see this movie when it comes out. He has money, but he’s worried about his foreign investments and his real estate holdings, and the instability of the stock market and the tax increases that seem to come every year or so.” Chase kept the pleasant look, but he shook his head. “It’s hard to picture the guy saying to himself, ‘That gives me an idea. I should invest in a movie like that,’ and then getting up and making a phone call to Oak River Films.”
“Stranger things have happened.” Keith’s smile wasn’t for the sake of anyone but Chase. Even with all that had happened and the alarming rate at which they were running out of money, Keith maintained his cool. “Besides, God brought us here. If He wants us to go home without a movie, then we take some time to ask Him where to go next.”
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