Learning

  “Yes. I had to be hospitalized.” His tone held the shame he still carried over that time. “After that they helped me see what you just said. We all have a hole in our hearts. We can try to fill it with a lot of things … but in the end only Jesus fits.”

  “Yes.”

  “So that’s my story.” He hoped his smile made her see there was nothing more to the story. But in every situation, Cody had found Cheyenne to be perceptive, and this was no exception.

  She narrowed her eyes slightly. “There’s more to the story.” It wasn’t a question. Cheyenne simply knew. “Do they … do the Flanigans have a daughter?”

  It was like she could read his heart, like everything he’d done or felt was so clear to her she didn’t need to ask. She already knew. He hesitated, but then he nodded just barely, only enough so that she would know she was right. “Yes … they do.”

  “So that’s it …” She eased her hands from the table back to her lap. Her careful smile told him she wasn’t hurt by his revelation. Rather it was like the pieces finally fit. “I knew someone had a hold on your heart, Cody Coleman. I wondered when you might trust me enough to tell me.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say. Not once had he intended for this date to involve a discussion about his past. But now that’s exactly where they were headed, and Cody wanted to divert the conversation — any way he could. Tonight was about Cheyenne, and the celebration of her life. Not about Bailey and him.

  But she was still searching his eyes, the understanding still dawning within her. “What’s her name?”

  He sighed, and leaned against the padded side of the booth. “Bailey. Bailey Flanigan.”

  “You still care about her.” Again it wasn’t a question. But her tone politely asked for more details.

  “Yes. Always.” Cody understood why this mattered. If he wasn’t here out of sympathy, and if he enjoyed being with her … then what about his past might stop her from letting herself have feelings for him? She had a right to know. “Things changed between us. At the end of last year.” He explained how he and Bailey had allowed their friendship to turn into a dating relationship, but only for a short while. “My mom went back to prison, and Bailey was busy making a movie with Brandon Paul.”

  Cheyenne’s mouth opened, and she sucked in a quiet breath. “That’s where I’ve heard her name. She’s in Unlocked. I’ve seen the trailer a hundred times on TV.”

  “Yes.” Cody couldn’t help but feel proud of her. “That’s her. The world doesn’t know it, but she and Brandon are dating now.” He faced forward again and rested his forearms on the table. “It’s been over between us for many months.”

  “Mmhmm.” She nodded, but her eyes told him she wasn’t quite convinced … that the situation with Bailey Flanigan was a red flag on the panel of her heart, and after tonight she would have a reason to take things slowly.

  That was fine with Cody. He didn’t want to move quickly, anyway. Cheyenne was still building up her strength. She didn’t need a serious relationship to complicate her life right now. “Well … we know each other a lot better now.” He laughed, and though it sounded a little nervous it broke the heaviness between them.

  By the time they walked back out to the truck they were both laughing about something from the movie. He put his arm around her shoulders again, and as he folded up her walker and helped her into his passenger seat he recognized the obvious: He felt more than friendship for her. “Hey … I have an idea.” He turned the key in the ignition. “How about we take a drive to Lyle? The uniforms were delivered, and Ms. Baker asked me to count them in.” He liked the idea … the two of them alone in the quiet emptiness of the high school. More time to talk. “Are you too tired?”

  “Not at all.” She laughed. “Just don’t ask me to try anything on. I’d disappear in a football uniform.”

  His laughter mixed with hers. “Don’t worry … just the helmets and face masks. That’s the only part you’ll have to try on.”

  On the drive out, they listened to Tim McGraw and Tyrone Wells and talked about her nursing program. The teachers were going to work with her, so she could make up most of last semester’s units online over the next few months. Once they reached the school, he let them in with his keys. No one was there, but still they talked in whispers as they walked the short distance from the back door of the athletic complex to the equipment room. Cody found a chair for her and he handed her a clipboard. “I’ll count, and you write down the numbers.” He grinned at her. “Sound good?”

  “Better than trying on helmets.” She grimaced just a bit as she situated herself.

  “You’re hurting.” He would’ve done anything to make her feel better. “Want a different chair?”

  “No.” Her expression eased. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

  Cody started with the jerseys. He was halfway through the count when he heard footsteps in the hallway outside. He stopped and saw that Cheyenne heard the sound too.

  At nearly eleven on a Friday night the janitor couldn’t be here. He held his finger to his lip, urging her to be quiet. Was it kids maybe? Someone about to vandalize the school? He moved quietly to the door, and as he opened it he heard the unmistakable sound of someone running down the other hallway, the one that led to the gym.

  The flashes came at him with lightning speed, like a series of rapid-fire gunshots. Bright bursts of images … him and Art running for cover across a pock-holed desert floor. “Run!” someone screamed. “Get low!” Cody blinked, fighting the pictures in his head, resisting the urge to obey the long ago commands. Another image and another. Flashes snapping like broken tree limbs in the forest of his complicated mind.

  And beside him — right beside him — one of his buddies was hit in the face. His whole face gone in an instant as he crumpled to the ground. Dust and blood and gunfire. More gunfire. “Get down.”

  “What?” Cheyenne gave him the strangest look, her voice quiet and panicked. She glanced toward the sound of the running feet and back at him. “Get down?”

  “No.” Cody’s voice was an intense whisper, a command to himself. “Not that. Sorry.” Help me, God … Cheyenne needs me. Someone’s here … I have to think clearly. Please, Father … please …

  In the time it took him to breathe out, the images were gone. Sweat gathered across his forehead and the back of his neck and he shook like he hadn’t in weeks. Cheyenne slid to the edge of her seat, clearly concerned. “Cody … what is it? Flashbacks?”

  He nodded, hating himself for this weakness. Iraq was behind him. He had no reason to get lost in yesterday at the simple sound of running feet. He wiped his forehead and sucked back a few quick breaths. He wasn’t armed … had no way to protect himself. But if he had to fight someone he wasn’t worried. Cody could handle the situation. He was trained in hand-to-hand combat, and more than once at war he’d had to prove himself. He was one of his division’s best fighters. “Stay here,” he whispered. “I’ll call you if I get in trouble.”

  The sound of the footsteps faded, getting farther away. He set off down the hallway running, and at the end of the hall he turned right. Ahead of him in the distance he could see the shadowy figure of someone trying to leave the building. A guy … tall … dressed in dark clothes. Whoever it was, he didn’t have legal access to the building. And the fact that he was trying to escape told Cody he’d probably done something wrong.

  Speed wasn’t a problem for Cody — even since his injury. He had competed in marathons and triathlons since coming home from Iraq, and he still did speed training. Times like this he was grateful. He intensified his run, pushing through the school doors and across the back courtyard between the administration building and the athletic complex. “Hey … stop!”

  He ran faster … holding the flashbacks at bay … focusing on the figure in front of him. Faster and faster but just before he might’ve made a dive at the trespasser, the guy turned around, gasping for breath, his eyes wide, terrified.

  Cody stopped short
, his breathing hard and fast. “DeMetri?”

  “Coach, …” DeMetri Smith sank down in a crouched position, too shaky to stand. “You scared me to death.”

  “Yeah.” Cody doubled at the waist and exhaled hard a few times. “Me too.” He straightened and looked hard at the kid. “Why are you here?” Cody felt his heartbeat finding normal again. “You should be at home in bed … we have practice tomorrow.”

  DeMetri rose to his feet. “I … I don’t have anywhere to stay.” The kid didn’t want to cry, that much was evident. He clenched his jaw, fighting his emotion. “My mom got arrested … they evicted me.”

  Cody wanted to drop to the ground and cry right beside his player. Another kid? Another mother like his and Cheyenne’s? How many other teenagers tonight weren’t sure where to sleep? How many parents were in prison while their high school sons or daughters tried to dodge the embarrassment and figure out a way on their own? He took a few slow steps to DeMetri. “Smitty, …” He put his hand on the player’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  DeMetri was still breathing hard. With Cody’s understanding, he lost the battle with his tears. “It’s okay. The school’s fine.”

  Dawning hit Cody again. “You’ve been staying here … sleeping here?”

  “Yeah,” he stuck his chin out, like the situation was fine, as if he didn’t want any sympathy from Cody or anyone else. “It’s okay. I have some stuff in a closet.”

  “Where?” His heart broke for his player. “Where do you stay?”

  “The wrestling room.” He blinked, and for a few seconds he looked more like a kid than the adult he was being forced to become. “It’s fine, Coach. Really.”

  “It’s not fine.” He felt a gust of anger toward DeMetri’s mom, and all those who didn’t fight harder to be parents. “You’re coming home with me.”

  DeMetri blinked. “With you, Coach?”

  “Yes.” Cody’s roommate was gone this weekend. Besides, they had an office, a third bedroom that neither of them really used. He could work out the details later. DeMetri wasn’t going to spend another night living in the Lyle wrestling room. His tone softened. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

  He finished counting the uniforms, and he and Cheyenne and DeMetri drove home. They dropped Chey off first, and he got out of his pickup only long enough to help her up the stairs and inside. From there she assured him she had it, and even before he could tell her goodbye, Tara appeared in her bathrobe. “You two okay out here?”

  “Yes.” Cheyenne gave Cody a knowing smile. He hadn’t said much since he’d brought DeMetri back with him to the equipment room. He didn’t need to. Everything that might be said on the subject had already been said over coffee earlier that night. If anyone would understand Cody taking DeMetri home with him tonight, she would. It was one more thing they would share, one more bond between them. Chey looked at Tara. “We were just saying goodnight.”

  “Well, then.” Tara waved her hand in the air and spun back toward her bedroom. “Don’t let me get in the way!”

  Cody and Cheyenne laughed quietly, and he appreciated the understanding in her eyes. He hugged her, and let his face linger near hers. “I had fun tonight.”

  “Me too.”

  “Goodnight, Chey.” He hugged her once more, gingerly because he didn’t want to hurt her. Not now or ever.

  “Goodnight.” She looked back at the truck. “Go take care of that boy.”

  “I will.”

  Cody waved goodbye once more. Then he headed out to his truck, to a high school boy whose skin color might be different, but who in this moment looked a whole lot like himself at that age. Frightened and determined, trying to find a way through life on his own. And as he climbed in the truck, he committed to God to do whatever it took to help DeMetri, to be there for the young man.

  The way Jim Flanigan had been there for him.

  Twelve

  JENNY SAT ON THE FRONT PORCH AND LISTENED TO HER OLDEST son Connor sing his heart out. He was trying out for American Idol at the end of the summer … something he’d decided just a few weeks ago. The show was making a stop in Indianapolis, and though ten thousand people were bound to show up for the audition, Connor wanted his chance.

  “God only opens doors we knock on,” he had told her when he made up his mind. “I have to try.”

  She loved that about her kids, that they were willing to go after their dreams. It was a bittersweet joy, because in time their dreams were bound to take them to vastly different places. Bailey already in New York, and now Connor. If he gravitated toward a singing career he would live in Nashville eventually, or maybe Los Angeles. Certainly not here in Bloomington. She smiled to herself. American Idol was a long shot, no matter how great he sounded singing at their family’s piano.

  But the possibility that Connor’s dreams would take him far away was very real.

  She had a five-page document in her hand, her latest article for Christian Family magazine. This was her newest writing position, and she liked it better than the other magazines she’d worked for. This one allowed her to talk about the things most dear to her, the challenges of adoption, the task of raising kids who would develop a strong faith of their own, the importance of laughter around the dinner table. Today’s article was on another topic close to Jenny’s heart: the decision to have an open door to the people God brought into their lives.

  Jenny smiled, remembering the many kids who viewed the Flanigans as their second family. None more so than Cody Coleman. She focused on the first paragraph of the article and began to read. But she wasn’t halfway down the page when she heard a car coming down the hill. She looked up and squinted. It was the last day of June, and the heat was getting intense, the humidity causing a buildup of clouds along the horizon. The glare of the sun made it hard to see, but as the pickup grew closer, as it slowed and turned into their driveway, she had no doubt whose it was.

  “Cody Coleman,” she whispered out loud. How long had it been? She watched him park, and as he climbed out of the truck and walked closer, Jenny felt her heart hurt at the way she’d missed him, the way they’d all missed him.

  He saw her, clearly. His hands in his pockets, he made his way up the porch steps and over to her before he said a single word. She stood to meet him, and they came together in the sort of hug usually reserved strictly for family. A hug that held on and gave absolute unconditional certainty that love once here, was still here now.

  She stepped back and they sat down on the porch swing.

  “Hi.” He smiled as he spoke for the first time. With the Flanigans, he already knew he didn’t need words. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long.” She set her document down beside her. “You look good.”

  “I am.” He nodded, confident. His face looked older in a good way, more mature than before. “I’m coaching and teaching … at Lyle High … halfway to the Ohio border.”

  “Yes.” Jenny smiled at the irony. Cody here beside her when she’d just finished an article about having an open door. “Ryan Taylor told us.”

  “I thought he might.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment, like maybe he felt guilty for not calling. “I thought I’d come by and talk to Coach … see if he had any advice about summer camp. I’ve never run one before and … well, it’s coming up. I have a lot to learn.”

  “He’ll be home soon.” She smiled, hoping to erase any awkwardness he might feel. Especially in light of the situation with him and Bailey. “He’d love to help you.”

  “I figured.” Cody relaxed. “I miss him … I miss all of you.” His eyes held an aching that made Jenny feel good. Like the time he’d spent with their family mattered to him. Even if he hadn’t been in touch lately.

  “I heard about the car accident … your friend.” She wanted him to know he could talk about his life. How he had moved on. “What’s her name?”

  He hesitated, and for a moment he looked across the expanse of their front lawn, the sun on his face. “Cheyenne.” He
turned back to Jenny. “She’s doing much better. We … we spend a lot of time together.” Again he looked slightly out of sorts. “I guess you know … I haven’t talked to Bailey since she left.” He turned slightly so he could see her better. “How’s she doing?”

  “She loves the show.” Jenny had to be careful. Bailey wouldn’t want her saying too much. If Cody wanted to know about her life, he could text or call her. She’d told Jenny that a number of times. “She’s keeping busy.”

  “Her and Brandon?” Cody almost winced, and there was no denying the fact that he didn’t really want to know the answer. “Are they … are they together?”

  “I’m not sure they have a label.” Jenny studied him, how right it felt that he was back. “Brandon’s a part of her life.”

  “Yes.” Cody set his jaw and nodded. “I’m glad she’s happy.” He stood and took a deep breath. “Well … are the boys out back?”

  “They are.” Her heart hurt at the look in Cody’s eyes, the way he so obviously still had feelings for Bailey. But there was nothing she could say to help the situation, no advice or wisdom that would be appropriate. The relationship between Cody and Bailey was something only God and the two of them could figure out. “Come on.” She grabbed her document and together they walked inside. “They’ll be thrilled to see you.”

  Connor was first to notice him. He got up from the piano and gave Cody the sort of hug usually reserved for the closest teammates. “It’s been too long …”