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she were being chased.
    She lifted her head and stared out at the water.
What am I doing here, God?
    My daughter, I am with you … Be still … Listen to my voice
.
    Bailey straightened slowly, her eyes on the horizon. God often spoke to her through quiet certainties in her heart or Scripture verses. But here it was like His voice was in the wind, His eyes directly on her, His hands on her shoulders. She exhaled and felt her heart rate ease a little.
Okay, God … what do you want me to hear? What are you saying?
    She waited, but this time there was only the sound of the breeze. Then gradually, thoughts began taking root in her mind. And this time, rather than flitting through her heart, they stayed. Like billboards in her soul. A sudden slew of doubts overwhelming in their intensity.
    Maybe after
Hairspray
closed its doors, she should’ve taken more time. Looked a little longer. Really prayed about God’s next move for her. And when she decided to leave, she should’ve spent more time at home. She didn’t need to be with Brandon every spare hour. She needed to seek God’s plan for her life, pray longer about her next career move. She and Brandon had handled having a long-distance relationship before. Certainly she could’ve waited a few months before moving to LA. Then a thought came that seemed more significant than the others: her decision to take the movie role had been rushed. Even though at the time the part had seemed hand-delivered by God.
    Bailey leaned into the railing and suddenly she knew, without a doubt, her next move. She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and called the one person she could share all her doubts and uneasiness with. The one who had known her and guided her and listened to her and loved her all of her life.
    Her mom.
    She waited while the phone rang, and just before it might’ve gone to voicemail, her mother picked up. “Hi, honey … how are you?” Jenny Flanigan knew about Bailey’s meeting that morning, so she sounded upbeat, hopeful.
    “Not good.” Bailey felt the tears again. The steady ocean breeze made her eyes sting. She swallowed hard, wishing once more that she was home in Bloomington. “They changed the script.”
    “Hmmm.” Bailey’s mom sounded surprised, but not overly so. “That’s what the meeting was about?”
    “Not really. The producer talked around the topic, but then he handed out these completely new scripts.” Bailey blinked and two tears rolled down her cheeks. “Not that I ever read the entire script before, but now … Mom, the story is awful. Totally different than they told me it would be.” She took a shaky breath and launched into a ninety-second explanation of how she’d gone to the beach to read the script and how the story had been changed and the fact that now — combined with so many other moments and meetings — she was doubting everything about the last few months. She wiped at her tears, frustrated. “The whole thing makes me so mad. I mean, I moved here for this part.”
    Her mom allowed a few seconds of silence. “I’m sorry. I really am.” Again she waited, and Bailey knew she was being careful not to hurry into a teaching moment. “I guess I never thought you moved there for that one part.”
    A group of college-age girls walked along the sand in her direction, five of them laughing and clearly caught up in some story. Bailey took a few steps back and leaned against the wall of the lifeguard station, fading into the shadows. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean I thought you moved there for Brandon.”
    “Well, yeah. Of course. That too.” Bailey let the statement shake up her certainties for a few seconds. “I love him. But we were handling having a long-distance relationship.”
    “I know. I understand that.” Her mom sounded kind, as always, her tone warm with patience. “But you’ve dreamed of dancing on Broadway all your life. And, yes, maybe you had your time and maybe you were ready for something