“Excuse me,” a paramedic stopped him. “You’ll have to stand back. We’re bringing machinery in here.”
“But I think I—” Cody didn’t finish his sentence. He couldn’t finish it. Because at that moment he saw what used to be the back window of the Volkswagen lying in pieces on the road. And the piece Cody couldn’t take his eyes off had a simple bumper sticker that read Indiana University Nursing Program. The same sticker Cody had stared at the other day for half an hour as he followed Cheyenne to the hospital outside Indianapolis. So there was no doubt now, the woman trapped in the car was Cheyenne.
He wanted to fight his way past the paramedics until he was at her side, because maybe they’d missed something. He’d fought his way through battles worse than this, so there might be a way to get the car door off without using the jaws of life, right? He could rip the metal apart with his bare hands if he had to. Anything to reach her, to hold her and beg her to hang on.
But people were staring at him, and the paramedic needed to get back to work. So Cody did the only thing he could do. He stepped back to the curb, moved past the gawking bystanders and the banker, and he found a quiet doorway. Then he dropped to his knees and began to pray. As he did, as he prayed believing that somehow Cheyenne would live through this nightmare, he promised God that he would do whatever he could to help her. Behind him he could hear the machine being moved in, the wretched sounds of the jaws of life as it set to work to free Cheyenne from the wreckage.
Was Tara right, Lord? Did You save me back in Iraq so that I’d be here now for Cheyenne? The possibility was so real it consumed him. Please, God … Let her live. He cared about her more than he had allowed himself to believe. She was one of the sweetest girls he’d ever met … he knew that now. She had to live … he hadn’t had time to tell her how he felt, to let her know how much he valued her friendship.
The machines roared to life, filling the air with deafening sounds of metal on metal. “Watch her head,” someone shouted.
Please, God … Keep her alive.
As he tried not to listen to the voices shouting about CPR and blood loss and the victim’s spinal cord, he became absolutely convinced of one thing. If Cheyenne lived through this, he would be at her side when she woke up.
And every step of the way after that.
Twenty-Four
ONE BUSY DAY HAD BLENDED INTO ANOTHER, AND BAILEY STILL hadn’t made it out to Lyle High to see Cody. But all of that would change this morning. With every passing hour her determination to see him had grown. She had pulled together a shoebox full of items she’d found when she cleaned her room. Things that belonged to him … items that would remind him of his past with her. She could hardly wait to hit the road.
Her mother knew she was seeing Cody this morning, and she’d offered to go along. But today was another scrimmage for the boys at Clear Creek High, and their mom was in charge of the team’s sub sandwich lunch. Bailey planned to head out to Indianapolis as soon as possible. That way she could be back before kickoff for the late afternoon scrimmage.
It was ten o’clock and already she’d been up for three hours, gathering the items for the box, showering, and getting dressed. Now she was finally ready to head out, but she wanted to check the box first … make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. She sat on the edge of her sofa and sorted through the contents.
There was a small stuffed Tigger — a carnival prize she’d won for Cody at the Indianapolis state fair a few summers ago. Her whole family had gone, and Cody had come with them. They’d teased each other about whether he would win something for her first or the other way around. At first neither of them won a thing, but then they sat side by side and played the squirt gun contest, each of them aiming a stream of water through the mouth of a clown. When the balloons burst, out of all ten contestants, she and Cody tied.
He gave her a stuffed Winnie the Pooh, and she gave him the Tigger. Her prize sat on the shelf next to the picture of Cody and her. But his had somehow wound up in a box of mementos and memories she’d pushed to the back of her closet years ago. It was one of the things she’d found while cleaning her room.
The same was true for the broken pair of sunglasses at the back of one of her bookshelves. Last Fourth of July at Lake Monroe, when everything about life and love had seemed too perfect for anything to ruin it, Cody had run down the beach a stretch to catch a pass from Justin. But as he snagged the football, his sunglasses fell to the shore, and at almost the same instant Ricky landed square on them — snapping them in two.
Cody had picked up the identical pieces, laughing like crazy. “You couldn’t do that again if you tried.”
Ricky ran up, his face a mask of guilt. “Cody … I didn’t mean to … I didn’t see them until I stepped on them and—”
“It’s okay … no big deal.” Cody had given Ricky a kind pat on the back. “I bought ‘em at a gas station.” Then, still laughing, he ran the pieces over to Bailey. As he did, he took one half of the broken glasses and slipped it over his ear. He looked beyond goofy as he handed her the other half. “Here. Quick … put this on.”
Bailey had been laughing since Ricky’s ill-fated move. She took the other half and slid it over her ear. “How do I look?”
“Perfect.” Cody stood straight, mustering up his most official expression. “Now … if we ever don’t see eye-to-eye, we’ll pull these out. That should solve the problem.” They both burst into another round of giggles and chuckles, and after a few seconds, they fell to the sand in laughter, the broken glasses hanging off both their faces.
Bailey let the memory fade as she ran her fingers over the broken sunglasses. She kept the other half. Just because. The box also held a friendship ring Bailey had given him her junior year of high school. She’d bought it at the Bible bookstore in Bloomington, and at the time she’d told him he didn’t have to wear it. “It’s more the meaning of it that counts,” she’d told him. “I’ve never had a friend like you, Cody.”
But the amazing thing was he had worn it. He wore it every day through half that year until somehow, somewhere along the way he must’ve left it in the kitchen or on a bathroom counter. Maybe before playing basketball with the boys. Rings could get caught on the rim — especially if a guy dunked. So maybe that was it. Either way, the ring had wound up in her room, shoved to the back of her top desk drawer and mixed in with an assortment of broken pencils and dried up markers and pens. The ring had a Bible verse engraved on the outside — the verse Cody loved most. Philippians 4:13 — I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.
She’d found a few of his paperbacks and a handful of old Sports Illustrated magazines that he’d set aside downstairs. They were in the box too. The last thing she’d done was thumb through a number of her journal entries. Most of them were private, and they would remain so. But once in a while she’d used her journal to write Cody a letter, some musings about whether they would ever be more than friends, or some private bit of encouragement for him.
If she was going to find him and tell him goodbye before she moved to New York, then she wanted him to remember everything about her. Not just the past year, or the way he had felt compelled to run when his mother was put back in prison. But all of it … the bond they’d shared as far back as her early high school days. So she’d copied a handful of entries, folded the pages, and laid them on top.
It was all there — everything she wanted to give him. She placed the lid on the box, and checked her look in the mirror once more. She wore a pale blue turtleneck and new jeans. Her long hair fell in curls alongside her face and down her back. No big deal, she told herself. She should look nice, right? It was her last full day in Bloomington.
The house was empty as she took the box to her car and set out for Indianapolis. Her first stop was the prison … because she wanted to tell Cody’s mom goodbye, and because she had no idea how to find him, otherwise. Bailey focused on the highway ahead, glad the roads were empty this morning. The week had been crazy en
ough without having to fight city traffic today.
She stared at the road ahead of her and thought about how much her life had changed since January. The part in Hairspray, her move to New York City, and of course her deepening friendship with Brandon Paul. Every day she felt her doubts about dating Brandon erode a little more. Life was too short to worry about paparazzi and magazine covers and Hollywood starlets. Brandon was worth a little inconvenience — especially after he’d taken the trip to Indiana to help her pack.
His charm left her dizzy at times, and there were long moments when she’d catch herself thinking about him, wishing for the next time when they might be together. Already Brandon had plans to fly to New York and take her to dinner. Sometime in the next two weeks, as long as his schedule of retakes allowed it. “And we’re going to do that love story together someday … I’ll make sure of it.” He had told her that yesterday when he called.
“We’ll see …” she had laughed lightly at the idea. From what she heard, it could be years before Brandon’s agent would let him make that movie.
“Bailey,” Brandon’s voice softened, and even across the phone lines she felt the impact of her name on his lips. “I’m not talking about a movie. I’m talking about us.”
Bailey tightened her grip on the wheel. Clouds gathered in the distance and she hoped it wouldn’t rain. Her dad planned to barbecue tonight, and all of them wanted to eat outside on the back patio. Bailey’s last dinner at home.
She pulled into the prison parking lot just as her phone vibrated. Once her car was parked, she glanced at the message window and saw it was a text from Brandon. She smiled, and a part of her heart warmed at the sight of his name.
No doubt, Brandon’s attention was an unexpected blessing in this season of her life. Without him, she would’ve thought about Cody every day … wondering about him, staying angry at him. Instead, she no longer allowed herself to believe Cody would come back, that he would change his mind and want her in his life again. She missed him, yes. The way she would always miss him. But Brandon had shown her something she desperately needed to know.
Cody wasn’t the only guy who could turn her head.
Bailey locked the car and crossed the prison parking lot. A pang of guilt hit her, because the last time she was here she had promised herself she’d visit Cassie Coleman every weekend. Or at least once a month. Instead she hadn’t been back since that day in January. The last time she’d seen Cody.
She walked up the stairs and through the front doors where it took thirty minutes while the guards notified Cody’s mother that she had a visitor. Finally Bailey was led through a familiar series of hallways and doors to a room where Cody’s mother sat waiting for her at a round table. She smiled through teary eyes as Bailey walked up, and for a brief moment she stood, and they shared a hug — an awkward moment since Mrs. Coleman wore handcuffs.
They both sat down, and for a few seconds Cody’s mom stared at her hands, chained in front of her. “I’ve … I’ve been praying for you, Bailey.” She lifted her eyes, and the familiar shame was still there. “Every day I’ve prayed.”
“Thank you.” Bailey had never been close to the woman, mostly because they’d only been together in person a handful of times. “I’m sorry it’s been so long …”
“That’s okay.” She was quick to dismiss the idea that Bailey should’ve been by sooner. “Bloomington’s a long way from here.”
New York was farther … Bailey took a deep breath and explained why she was here, how she was moving away, but she had a box of Cody’s things and she wanted to see him today. If that was possible. “We haven’t talked.” Bailey felt the same sadness in her heart. She still couldn’t believe Cody had let this much time pass.
“He told me … he came by one afternoon.” She raised her eyes to Bailey’s. “You … you have someone else now, is that right?”
She was talking about Brandon Paul … Bailey smiled, not sure what to say about him. “I have a friend, yes. He was over when Cody came by last time.” She thought about dismissing Brandon, telling Cody’s mother that he meant nothing to her. But that was no longer true, so she left it at that. “What about Cody … is he seeing anyone?”
It was the question she had dreaded, but she needed to know the truth, needed the complete picture if she was going to find him later today. Mrs. Coleman sighed and fidgeted for a long while before she looked up again. “Yes … Cody has a friend.”
The words hit like so many rocks, pelting her soul and making her wonder if this wasn’t some kind of nightmare. Cody loved only her, right? So how could he have moved on so quickly? But as soon as the question filled her mind, an obvious train of thoughts followed. She had Brandon Paul, a friend who had replaced the everydayness of Cody. So how could she be upset? She nodded … ignoring the sting of tears in her eyes. “Are … are they serious?”
“I’m not sure, really …” Mrs. Coleman looked nervous. “The girl … she was in a terrible car accident a few days ago. Cody’s with her right now—at the hospital in town.” Another long sigh from Cody’s mother. “She was on her way to surprise him this past Wednesday … to watch his football team. But she was hit by a truck before … before she reached the school.”
On Wednesday? The accident happened then? That was the day Bailey had wanted her mom to drive with her out to his school, only their errands had taken too long and they hadn’t gone. But if they had … they might’ve been there when this … Bailey dismissed the thoughts. “How badly is she hurt?”
“Bad.” Cody’s mother shook her head, her eyes dark with concern. “She hasn’t woken up, but … they used that machine to get her out of the car and now,” she shrugged, her eyes welling up again. “Her brain … her back … they’re not sure how bad it is.”
Bailey had no idea what to do with the information. Cody had found someone else, and now she was severely injured. Even at this moment he was sitting at her bedside. “Do you think he’d mind … if I stopped by?”
A look of deep apology came over Mrs. Coleman, and she slid her cuffed hands across the table toward Bailey. “He has always loved you, Bailey.”
She covered the woman’s fingers with her own. “I’ve always loved him.”
“Then go to him.” She sniffed, struggling to keep her composure. “Take him whatever it is that belongs to him, and tell him goodbye. He would want that … I’m sure.”
They talked for a few more minutes — about the Bible study Cody’s mom was doing with a group of fellow inmates, and about how God continued to speak to her. “I actually enjoy being here.” Her smile was weak, but sincere. “Because for the first time, God truly has my attention.”
Their visit drew to an end and Bailey hugged her once more. She wrote down the name of the hospital where the girl was a patient, and before she left she asked Mrs. Coleman just one more question. “What’s the girl’s name? I’ll probably need that.”
“Cheyenne.” Mrs. Coleman’s eyes held Bailey’s, as if she didn’t want Bailey to walk out of their lives now or any time in the future. “Her name is Cheyenne.”
As soon as Bailey heard the name, she felt her knees give way ever so slightly. Cheyenne? The former fiancée of Cody’s buddy, Art Collins? That’s who he was seeing now? She stuffed her questions in the basement of her heart, thanked Cody’s mom again, and walked back to her car. Along the way she remembered how Cody had sworn he wasn’t interested in her. She’d been invited to a dinner thrown by Art’s mom in Indianapolis. And once Cody had accidentally sent Bailey a text he’d intended for Cheyenne. But he had promised her he didn’t see her as anything more than a friend — the grieving former love of one of his closest friends from Iraq.
Either way, she could hardly be mad. The girl was fighting for her life by the sounds of it. Bailey would simply go to the hospital, bring the box up to the girl’s room, and ask for a few minutes with Cody in the hallway. Then she’d do once and for all what she should have done last January.
She’d end thing
s with Cody Coleman for good.
Twenty-Five
THE WHIR OF MACHINES WAS REASSURING ONLY BECAUSE IT reminded Cody that Cheyenne was alive. For now, anyway. He sat in a chair beside her bed, and across from him, Tara Collins sat in the other one. They had kept vigil next to her since she’d been brought in — Tara around the clock, since she had sick time she could use from work. As for Cody, other than school and football hours, he was here.
This morning’s practice let out early so he could hurry back, sit by her side. He’d only been here a few minutes when the doctor appeared at the door. He knocked lightly and stepped inside. “Hello.” He had been by a few times, so the man was familiar. He knew that Tara and Cody were the only family Cheyenne had.
“What’s the latest?” Tara was on her feet, her arms crossed. Worry deepened the lines on her forehead as she waited. “Is she coming out of it?”
“Now remember, we don’t want her to wake up just yet.” The doctor seemed nervous, like there was something big he wasn’t ready to tell them. “Her brain is still swollen … so it’s very important that she lays still until we see most of that cleared up.” He talked about the possibilities, the way he had every time he’d stopped by. Cheyenne had a possible brain injury and her spinal cord had been damaged enough that she might have partial paralysis. Beyond that there was the possibility that her lacerated liver might quit working, sending her into immediate shock and perhaps death.
The possibilities.
Cody took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. As he released it, he looked at Cheyenne. Her face was full, still battered from the effects of the crash. The fact that she was still alive was a miracle — they’d been told that a number of times. But still he believed. “She’s in there,” he turned to the doctor. “She can hear us when we talk to her. I think her brain’s going to be fine.”
“It may be.” He nodded, quick to agree. “We’ll keep monitoring her. I’ve scheduled another CAT scan for mid-afternoon today.”