Take Four Read Free

defying the odds and proving again and again that you are our miracle boy. I’m sure you’ll play baseball again in one of the older leagues or for your high school one day soon. But for now, I will gladly relinquish the role of author and speaker and simply sit in the stands and keep score for your team. Little League mom for this last season. I’m grateful you take your sports so seriously, but even more than that, I’m blessed that you take your role as a Christian so seriously. The other day we were driving somewhere and your friend Karter made an observation. “Austin,” he said, “I think you’re going to grow up to be just exactly like your dad.” You shared that story proudly and beamed at us from the backseat. And up in the front, your dad had tears in his eyes. Yes, Austin, you are growing up to be like your daddy. There could be no greater compliment, because your dad is the most amazing man. The bittersweet of knowing that every morning you stand a little taller is juxtaposed with the joy of knowing that Karter is right. You’re a little more like your dad every day. I’ve said it before, and it’s true. Heaven has windows, and I’m convinced Papa’s still cheering for you, son. Especially this season. As you soar toward your teenage years please don’tforget that or him. You’re my youngest, my last, Austin. I’m holding on to every moment, for sure. Thanks for giving me so many wonderful reasons to treasure today. I thank God for you, for the miracle of your life. I love you, Austin.
    And to God Almighty, the Author of Life, who has—for now—blessed me with these.

One
    B AILEY F LANIGAN’S LEGS SHOOK and her arms felt like limp noodles. Outside, the heat in the heart of New York City sweltered, the humidity some of the worst of the summer. If the dance studio had air conditioning, it wasn’t working. The mix of sweaty bodies and thick air made it almost impossible for Bailey or any of the dancers to catch their breath.
    “And again!” Sebastian, the casting director from West Side Story shouted at them. “Five, six, seven, eight…”
    The music kicked in and Bailey grabbed a quick breath. Keep moving , she told herself. Don’t stop ! She couldn’t quit no matter how hard the director pushed them. This was her dream; an actual Broadway audition in a New York studio. She would give it everything she had, until she dropped to the floor trying.
    She’d worked with Katy Hart Matthews on her acting and stage presence, and that would help if she got past this stage. But the intensity of the audition was crazy. If she’d known how many hours of dancing they’d do and how they’d be expected to sing without any sign of exertion she would’ve practiced more. She wasn’t sure if her old boyfriend Tim Reed felt the same way. He spent most of the summer working with a private dance and vocal coach, and from what Bailey could see, his efforts were paying off.
    One thing was certain. Sebastian was right about the numbers. At the beginning of the audition he had told them there would be hundreds of talented dancers trying for a handful of ensemble spots. Bailey remembered the scene from earlier that day. There had to be a thousand dancers lined up around theblock looking for a shot. The only flicker of hope was that the audition had grown into a combined talent search for not just the West Side Story , but also Wicked and Mary Poppins . Each show had at least two ensemble spots to fill.
    Bailey’s feet had blisters and she could barely lift her arms as she ran through the dance routine one more time. But she didn’t care. She would’ve been thrilled with a part in any of those shows.
    “Okay, take five minutes,” the director waved his hand. “We’ll pick up again after that.”
    Bailey moved to the side of the room and wiped her forehead with a towel from her bag. Every Christian Kids Theater performance, every dance or voice lesson, the hours of practicing and praying and