Leaving

  Brandon came closer, and again he framed her face with his hand, searching her eyes. “Was that him? Was it Cody?”

  “Yes.” She hung her head, her emotions wildly conflicting. How could she enjoy the feel of Brandon’s hand against her face and still feel like she was betraying Cody for doing so? She lifted her eyes. “He didn’t call.”

  “Hmmm.” Brandon was quiet. “Seems to be a trend today.”

  She smiled, but she couldn’t laugh, couldn’t shake the image of Cody driving away again. “I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to run off.”

  “But you did.” His eyes told her he wasn’t angry or slighted by her action. But he was aware of what it meant — no question about that. “So the truth, Miss Bailey, isn’t so much that our crazy lives are taking us in different directions.” He ran his thumb over her cheekbone, his eyes full of a longing that seemed deeper than before. “The problem is Cody.” He backed up a step and took her hands in his. “Right?”

  With everything in her she wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she was over Cody because he hadn’t cared enough to hold onto her in the first place … that no matter what happened tomorrow, she wasn’t about to let Cody Coleman impact her decisions one way or another. But she couldn’t lie to Brandon. Not now … not ever.

  “That’s okay … you don’t have to say anything.” His sad smile was tinged with a fresh determination. “If he’s what I’m up against, I’m ready for the challenge.” He looked over his shoulder at the empty road, and then back at her. “I’ll show you, Bailey … he doesn’t love you like I do.”

  His words stirred across her already tender heart. Until now, Brandon hadn’t talked about love … not like this. And she certainly wasn’t ready to respond by telling him she felt the same way.

  “Come on,” he nodded toward the front door, his confidence firmly back in place. “Let’s get back to work. Otherwise you’ll never get to New York.” His tone was tender, aware that this was a difficult situation for Bailey. But he also wasn’t going to let her wallow in the moment. This was supposed to be a happy day, and he was clearly going to see that she found her way back to happy again.

  She hugged him close, resting her head on his shoulder and begging God to clear up the confusion in her heart. “Okay.” She smiled at him, and he took hold of her hand. Together they walked back to the house, quiet … but without the sense of awkwardness that Cody’s brief visit had brought to their time together.

  No matter how badly she wanted to go after Cody, get him back here where they might talk and figure out why he had stayed away for so long, she couldn’t. This day belonged to Brandon. Maybe if they went inside and got back to work in her room … maybe if her mom joined them and they set their minds on the task ahead, they would find the laughter and magic from a few minutes ago. Or at the very least if they went back inside she might be able to shake the image locked in her mind.

  The image of Cody Coleman’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

  Twenty-One

  THE BAXTER FAMILY TOOK TURNS HOLDING VIGIL IN THE WAITing room at the Bloomington Hospital — but Ashley never left. Not since Landon was brought in five days ago. Ashley had asked her extended family to keep the situation quiet … so they wouldn’t have a host of visitors. Landon was fighting for his life, after all. The newspaper had reported the death of the old man, the one Landon found in the fire just before his near fatal asthma attack. They had referred to the fact that one firefighter had been seriously injured, but they didn’t follow up with a name or other details. Ashley remained grateful for that.

  She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if the paper printed the truth — that Landon was still in a coma, still not able to breathe on his own.

  The Baxters were so well known in Bloomington that if word got out about how serious Landon’s situation really was, they would have a waiting room full of dear friends around the clock. And while it would’ve been nice to have hundreds of people praying for him, for now it was enough to have the Baxter family involved. At least that’s how Ashley felt today.

  The doctor had been in earlier this morning, and for the first time since Landon’s hospitalization, the news wasn’t entirely bad. “His lungs are making progress … healing from the attack.”

  “So maybe …” She stood, the news so good she couldn’t stay seated. “Maybe it isn’t polymyositis?”

  Dr. Jacobs’ enthusiasm faded. “Ashley, the diagnosis is separate from the asthma attack … separate from the smoke damage. He has to get past this crisis before we can talk about the lung disease. If he …” he stopped himself and stared at the ground for a second before finding Ashley’s eyes again. “When he comes out of this … he’ll still be very sick. You need to keep that in mind.”

  Ashley didn’t want to keep it in mind. She was going crazy sitting in this hospital room, begging God to bring Landon back, desperate for him to open his eyes and look at her … breathless for him to smile at her and tell her what she wanted to know more than anything in the world. That he was okay. That no matter what the tests showed, his lungs were fine.

  The room was quiet. Cole, Devin, and Janessa had been in half an hour ago, but now Kari had taken them home to her house. She and her husband, Ryan, were taking care of all three kids until Landon woke up. And he would wake up. Ashley stared at the clock on the wall. A little before nine in the evening. The kids planned to go to school tomorrow, and then Kari would bring them over around three, when they got out. During the day, her dad would come by the way he’d done every afternoon since the fire.

  But for now she was alone with Landon … the way she wanted to be. Only when they were alone could she utter her most intense prayers, the ones that she was sure God would hear. She stared at the man she loved, at the steady, uniform way his chest rose and fell. At first watching him breathe like that had been a comfort — because at least he was breathing. But now every breath, every movement of his chest made her cringe. Because there was nothing natural about it. The movement was mechanical, the result of a machine breathing air into him.

  “Breathe, baby … I’m here.” She stood over his bed, brushing her fingers against his face, his shoulder. Along the length of his arms. “Feel me, Landon … I’m here, baby. Breathe.” She let her hand settle on his bicep, on the muscle that still bore the signs of health and life. Landon had always been strong, but more so now. Since his diagnosis. He had no guarantee what his health might become, so he spent more time than usual in the gym … lifting weights, doing pushups. Anything to keep his strength.

  She loved being in his arms, and even now it took all her willpower not to climb into bed beside him and drape his motionless arms around her body. Landon’s arms that so easily could lift their children and heave a fire hose into a burning house. The arms that had hauled a man from the flames of a fully engulfed dwelling just in case he might have a chance to live.

  From what she’d heard today, Dr. Jacobs said it looked like the man’s wife wasn’t going to make it either. They’d been in their nineties — high school sweethearts married nearly seventy years and living with their granddaughter. Everyone else in the house had made it out. She stared at her husband, at his face and his closed eyes. Even asleep he looked kind and willing to help. No matter what disease was attacking his lungs, Landon would’ve done it all again. He would’ve spent those months at Ground Zero searching for the body of his firefighter friend Jalen … and he would’ve gone into the burning house looking for the old man.

  It was how Landon was wired.

  She closed her eyes, her hand tighter around his arm than before. Dear Lord … I know You are here … and I know You hear me. She hesitated, and for a few seconds she could remember herself praying this same sort of prayer for her dying mother. And her infant daughter. God didn’t always answer prayers the way she wanted Him to, but He was always near when a person prayed. No matter how difficult the road ahead, Ashley believed that.

  Still … there was a limit to how much a person could
take, right? Wasn’t that why God said His people wouldn’t have to fight the battles of life? Take up your positions and see the deliverance the Lord will give you. The verse was from 2 Chronicles 20:17, words Ashley had memorized in the past few days. Yes, God would fight for her … and she need only take up her position and watch Him win the battle. But right now everything seemed at a stand still.

  Father … I want to trust You, I want to lean on You with every passing minute. But please, Lord … let Landon breathe on his own. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. Breathe life into him so that he doesn’t need these machines, Father … Thank You. Even though I don’t see the answer, I thank You.

  She opened her eyes and sat back down. As she did she slid her hand through the bars on the hospital bed and held onto Landon’s forearm. “I’m still here, Landon … I’ll be here until you wake up.”

  Her Bible sat on the bedside next to him, and Ashley decided to read. This was what she loved about her time alone here. She could memorize Scripture, pray whenever she wanted, and talk to Landon. Almost like they were alone in their room back home and he were only sleeping now. She opened the Bible to the chapter in 2 Chronicles. No matter how many times she read about the battle God’s people were in, and how He delivered them, the story never grew old. For only as the Israelites began to sing and praise the Lord did the enemy begin to fall.

  As she read, the door opened and Cole slipped inside. His eyes were wide, as if he expected Ashley to be upset with him for returning to the hospital room. “Honey … why are you here?” The kids were supposed to be getting ready for bed with Kari and Ryan. Ashley had no idea any of them were still here. “I thought you already left.”

  “Grandpa said he’d take me over there later.” He came closer, his eyes on Landon. “I know you said it’s quiet time now. But … I thought if I sat on the other side of him. Maybe he might wake up if he had two of us here.”

  Ashley set the Bible down on the nightstand again and held out her arms to him. “Come here, Cole.”

  He went to her, and she stood to hug him. He was almost taller than her now, her grown-up little boy. “Thank you, buddy.”

  “Yeah.” He stepped back. “And I didn’t want you to be alone for so long.”

  He walked around the bed and took the chair on the other side. “Is he any better?”

  Cole asked this all the time, and always Ashley hated her answer. But there was no way around it. She sighed and gave Cole her most optimistic smile. “I can’t tell. But Dr. Jacobs said his lungs are doing more of the work on their own. Remember? From earlier?”

  “Yes.” Cole reached through the bars of the bed and took hold of his dad’s other hand. For a long time he looked at Landon, clearly deep in thought. She could read the Bible later. For now she wanted to hold onto this image, the picture of Cole sitting next to Landon, probably praying for him, begging God for a miracle. “He’s my real dad. Right, Mom? I mean, just because he wasn’t there when I was born …”

  Ashley’s heart felt like it might rip in half. She stood and went to the other side of the bed. With her hand on Cole’s shoulder, she stared at Landon and searched for the right words for their son. “He’s definitely your real dad.”

  “Yeah, because one of the guys on the baseball team was talking about his step-dad and he said that since he wasn’t his biological dad, he wasn’t really his dad.” Cole looked back at her, squinting to keep the tears in his eyes from falling onto his cheeks. “So I just wanted to make sure … you know? That Dad was my real dad.”

  This wasn’t a time for lessons on biology and DNA. Cole simply needed reassuring. “Yes, this is different than a step-dad situation. You never had a real dad until Landon came along.” She didn’t mention that Landon might’ve been his biological dad, too, if only she hadn’t been so stubborn in the years after high school. Anyway, life didn’t work like that. Cole was who he was because of his biological father — a married artist from Paris, who had died several years back of AIDS. Details Cole certainly didn’t need to know now … maybe ever.

  “Remember my bracelet?” Cole looked at her. “The one I wore a few years ago. It said PUSH — Pray Until Something Happens.”

  “I remember.” Ashley’s heart was full for the way she loved this boy … the way she had always loved him. “Whatever happened to it?”

  “I found it last night in my sock drawer.” He held up his arm and pushed his sweatshirt back. Sure enough the green rubbery bracelet was back on his arm, where he’d worn it for nearly a year back when he was nine or ten. “That’s how it is now. We have to pray until something happens.”

  He looked at Landon, and then up at her. “You can sit down, Mom. It’s okay. Read the Bible if you want. I’ll keep praying.”

  This was Cole trying to be the man of the family, looking out for her and letting her know that he would stand sentry in prayer — so that she wasn’t alone, so that she didn’t have to carry this burden by herself. It was further proof of how Cole was growing up, how very much like Landon he was becoming.

  She bent down and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, buddy.” Once she was back in her chair, she took the Bible onto her lap. But she still didn’t open it. The sight of her son and her husband together was one she couldn’t break herself away from. After a few minutes, Cole began to pat Landon’s hand, his forearm. And as he did he began to sing a song they’d sung in church lately … it was by Chris Tomlin, Ashley was pretty sure.

  Cole wasn’t the most gifted singer, but when he reached the chorus, she had never heard a more beautiful song in all her life. “Our God is greater … our God is stronger … God you are higher than any other …” His voice wasn’t overly loud, but it filled the room with the peace of the Holy Spirit. Ashley slid her chair closer to the bed and held onto the scene before her.

  Every word of the song Cole knew by heart — further proof of his new interest in worship songs. It sang of God being Healer and having a most awesome power, and Cole sang it for all he was worth. Ashley remembered what he’d said a month ago, how worshipping God in song was his favorite part of church. “When we’re all standing and singing,” he’d told her, “it’s like Jesus is right there with us.”

  The same could be said now. Dear Lord … listen to that boy. Please, Father … Let Landon hear him too. Please let him find enough strength in his lungs to wake up … to breathe on his own without the machines. Please, God. We are at Your mercy …

  “Our God is greater … our God is stronger … God you are higher than any other …”

  Cole was on his second round of singing the same song when Ashley saw something move … something near the pillow. She was on her feet almost instantly, and across from her Cole stopped his song mid-note. “What was that?”

  “I’m not sure.” She stared at Landon’s face, searching it for any sign of movement. “I thought I saw something … like maybe he moved.”

  “Me too.” Cole stood, studying Landon. “Dad, … can you hear us?”

  Then, as if he’d only been taking a nap and not unconscious since Tuesday, Landon slowly blinked and peered at Cole. First at Cole.

  Ashley gasped and brought her fingers to her lips. Dear God. Thank You … thank You for this miracle … thank You.

  “Hi, Dad.” Cole’s tears spilled onto his cheeks, but a smile stretched across his face. “Can you hear me?”

  Landon ran his tongue over his lower lip and swallowed a few times. The tube in his mouth made it impossible for him to say much, but even so he managed a slight smile at Cole and he mouthed the words, “I heard … you sing.”

  “Landon!” Her tears came harder than Cole’s, but they were mixed with a giddy sort of laughter. He was back! Landon had come out of his coma! This was the miracle they were praying for, and now she couldn’t break herself away to call his doctor. “Baby, I’m here.”

  He couldn’t turn his head easily—too long laying here in one position. But as he heard her voice, he strained to see her. And when thei
r eyes met, his teared up. “I … I couldn’t breathe.” Every word was distorted by the tubing, and she figured it might not be wise for him to get too active.

  “I know, baby … we’ve been praying for you. All of us.” Without taking her eyes from his, she reached for his call button and pressed it. “We all believed you would wake up. And here you are!”

  “Yeah, Dad. It’s been like five days.” Cole laughed, but the sound was marked by the cry in his voice. “That’s the longest nap ever.”

  Landon sent a quick smile in Cole’s direction, but then he returned his gaze to Ashley. His eyes said everything his body couldn’t say — not yet anyway. They told her that he hadn’t wanted to die, and that with everything in him he had fought for this chance, this moment to be here with her. Alive with her. A single tear spilled out of the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek onto his pillow. He tried to move, tried to reach up and touch her face. But there were too many wires connected to his arms, and he let his hand fall back to the bed.

  “Can I help you?” It was the voice of the nurse, coming through the tinny speaker on the emergency call button.

  “Yes.” Ashley laughed and again the sound came out more as a cry. “My husband is awake. Can you please tell Dr. Jacobs. Someone needs to come in right away.”

  “Question …” Landon looked from Ashley to Cole. “Who won … the game?”

  Both Cole and Ashley laughed out loud. “Dad, really? You even need to ask?” Cole put his hands on his hips, his chin high. “Your championship Yankees, of course.”

  He was clearly weak, and there was no way to tell what lay ahead. But Landon managed to give a thumbs-up to Cole just as Dr. Jacobs walked into the room. “Look at this,” the doctor announced. “You’re awake!”

  “It was my singing.” Cole put his hand on Landon’s shoulder. His eyes were dry now, the joy in his face too great for tears at this point. “I was singing to him and he woke up.”