“Definitely not.” Tim frowned. “I was reading my Bible this morning and Andi came to mind. This whole change in her, the way she’s been so down…it just shows that God’s Word is true. There are consequences for sin—and Andi’s living proof.”
Bailey felt her shoulders sink. “We’re all living proof.”
“Right.” Tim seemed taken aback. “That’s what I mean. Hey, meet me for lunch tomorrow. At the Campus Café? One o’clock?”
“Sure,” Bailey backed up. “Hey, I gotta go.” She started toward the field, waving back at him. “Call me.” She couldn’t run off fast enough, and once she left she didn’t look back to see if he was leaving or still standing there. She didn’t care. If she stayed around Tim another five minutes she would say something she might regret. She tried to shake off the conversation with him as she caught up to her mom and brothers.
“Where’s Tim?” Her mom kept her voice low, as if the others might not notice he wasn’t with them any longer.
“Places to go.” She smiled, more because they were approaching the field than because of anything about Tim. Bailey gave her mom a side glance. “I’ll tell you more later.” Ahead, the players and coaches milled about with the fans, accepting congratulations and celebrating the game. Her dad was already out there, standing next to Coach Taylor and Cody.
Bailey made a point of finding her brothers first, hugging them and posing for a phone picture with them. “Three Flanigan boys on one team!” she beamed at them. Shawn and Justin had each scored a touchdown, and Connor’s interception set up the winning drive. “I can’t wait for the season.”
Her mom agreed. “We’ve looked forward to this for so long.” She hugged each of the boys too. “You three were wonderful.”
Finally Bailey looked around and spotted Cody, still standing with Bailey’s dad and Coach Taylor. She walked up and looped her arm around her father’s waist while they were mid-conversation about the Clear Creek pass defense. Bailey listened for a few minutes, understanding most of what they talked about as only a coach’s daughter could.
“We can’t run the prevent,” Coach Taylor was saying. “The quarterbacks in our league will nickel and dime us to death.”
“Exactly.” Her dad was still passionate about seeing Clear Creek play well. “We need man coverage, and we need to watch the tight ends. If they shoot straight through, it’s a pass every time.”
Cody wasn’t adding much, so Bailey tried to catch his attention—something that usually was as natural as breathing. But not today. She might as well have been invisible for how little he seemed to notice her.
Bailey’s dad kissed the top of her head. “The fans liked it, right?”
“It was great.” She grinned at Coach Taylor and then at Cody. Again Cody only looked at her long enough to not seem rude. “Best Cross-Town Scrimmage ever.”
The guys talked another few minutes, and then Cody gathered his gear bag from the ground a few feet away. “Gotta go, guys.” He waved at Coach Taylor. “Thanks for letting me be out here.”
“You added a lot today.” Coach pointed at him. “We need you, Coleman. See you at practice.”
Bailey drew back from her dad and followed Cody as he waved and turned toward the parking lot.
“Hey,” she kept her tone light. The other guys were still in earshot, and she didn’t want to make a scene. She caught up with Cody and walked alongside him. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah.” He kept up his pace, and shot her a quick glance as he looked briefly back to the bleachers. “Where’s Tim?”
Bailey wanted to scream. “Cody.” She fought to keep her tone even. “Can you stop? Please.”
He was more than halfway to the parking lot now, and they were by themselves, the rest of her family and the others still back on the field talking to the players. Cody took another few steps and stopped. He didn’t act put out, but his body language made the implication anyway. He cocked his head, his eyes never really making contact with hers. “What?”
“You’re mad at me.” She took a step closer but kept her distance. She had a feeling if she came too close he’d back up. “I know you are.”
“We’ve been over this.” He sucked in a frustrated breath and released it in a hurry, his eyes searching the air between them as if the answers might be written in the summer breeze. “You’ve got Tim. The way he treated me the other day…I don’t know. I didn’t feel like I mattered that much to you.” He smiled, clearly working to keep things light. “No big deal. You’ve got your life, and I’ve got mine.” He gave her the lightest pat on her shoulder. “See you, Bailey.”
“Cody…wait. I can explain.” She wanted to run after him, but that would create more drama than either of them needed. Especially here with sixty football players who respected him as a coach.
“Nothing to explain.” He waved once, the smile still firmly in place. “Don’t worry about it.”
And with that he was gone, jogging toward his car, every bit the athlete he’d been back when he’d worn the Clear Creek Uniform. Bailey stood in place and watched as he reached his car, climbed in, and drove off.
Angry tears burned her eyes and she blinked them back. Nothing was turning out like she wanted it to. Wherever Cody was going, he seemed in a hurry to get there. She turned and walked slowly back to her family, but along the way she kept replaying Tim’s actions, his words. Why was she still dating him? She was going to break up with him a month ago, right? She slowed, still bitterly disappointed at the way the afternoon had turned out. What am I doing, God?
No loud and clear answer came to her, but she suddenly could hear her dad’s voice talking to Coach Taylor above the others ten yards away. “Never be passive. Victories happen when you take charge of a game. You can’t win by playing not to lose.”
Her dad had told that to his players as long as Bailey could remember, but here—with Cody driving off to who knew where and Tim lost in his own world, it was like she was hearing his words for the first time. How self-centered she’d been, staying with Tim because of convenience, because it was easier than breaking up with him. Of course she was frustrated. She’d been as mean and thoughtless to Tim as Tim had been to Cody. She should’ve ended it with Tim when the thought first hit her. That would’ve been the fair thing—maybe for all of them.
So what if Cody didn’t want to date her? She didn’t need a boyfriend. She needed time with God, time praying about the plans He had for her. She thought about Tim’s comment earlier, about the consequences of sin. By being passive, she was getting what she deserved. She was ashamed of herself because she’d been wrong in how she’d acted toward Tim, how she’d been playing not to lose. Certainly God wanted more from her than that. With His help, it was time to recognize her faults and take action.
The way she should have a month ago.
Nineteen
CODY DIDN’T SPEED. THE LAST THING he needed was a ticket on his way to see his mother. She had left a strange message on his cell phone, half crying, half talking and asking him to come as soon as he could. Between that and the scene with Bailey, the day hadn’t exactly turned out the way he’d hoped it would.
The game was the single bright light. On the sidelines, helping the guys read the defense and run the offense, Cody felt vibrantly alive. Like he’d been born to do this. The only time he lost focus was once when he scanned the bleachers looking for Bailey. He expected to see her sitting with her mom and brothers, but for some crazy reason he hadn’t expected to see Tim beside her. Tim dressed for success in his preppy shorts and Buckle T-shirt, already looking like a part of the Flanigan family. Or at least the way anyone would expect Bailey Flanigan’s boyfriend to look.
Cody wanted to be Bailey’s friend, really he did. But lately the idea felt like a colossal exercise in futility, because every time they were together, all he could think was that he didn’t want to be her friend. He wanted to hold her hand and run along the shores of Lake Monroe with her. He wanted to take walks in the sum
mer moonlight and sit on her porch swing poring over the truths in Scripture, dreaming about their future together. He wanted to take a wild and dangerous jump and fall madly and marvelously in love with her, and the fact was this: He was tired of pretending otherwise.
He wasn’t jealous of Tim Reed. Every time Bailey talked about him—every single time—her tone was lukewarm. She liked him, yes. He was kind and they shared common interests, but she wasn’t sure if he was the guy…wasn’t sure if this was forever. The story was as repetitive as Mondays, but still Bailey stayed. And now that Tim had taken to talking down to him, Cody couldn’t think of a reason why he should make an effort to be Bailey’s friend. She was young and immature at love. They could be distant friends, yes. Acquaintances, of course. But he had to help his heart move on; otherwise he wouldn’t know the right girl when she walked through the door.
His mother’s message flashed in his mind again and he felt a rush of nervous energy work through his veins. What was she doing, calling him like that, her words sounding all slurred? Was this about Benny? Or had she jumped off the wagon on her own? He clenched his teeth and gripped the steering wheel harder than before. God, help me get through this next hour. He relaxed his grip and sank back against the seat. The last time she called, she hadn’t been drunk or drugged. Just sick with a fever. Maybe that was all it was this time too. But he’d found more beer bottles at her house, and he worried about her constantly. I’m not mad at her, God. I want her to succeed. If she falls again I could lose her.
It was a familiar prayer where his mother was concerned. That was the problem, really. All of his life felt like a series of familiar prayers. Praying about Bailey, praying about his mother, praying about God’s direction for his life. Cody wondered how long a person could feel stuck at the starting line.
He pulled into his mother’s driveway, and even before he reached her front door he had a feeling something was very wrong. A stillness in the air, or the lack of sounds from inside the house. Something about the moment made his skin crawl, and by the time he’d knocked on the door twice, he pulled out his key and hurried inside.
“Mom!” The living room was empty, but there were sofa pillows on the floor and the bookcase was half empty, the contents of its shelves scattered about in hurried disarray. A quick look toward the kitchen and Cody saw a dozen broken plates shattered across the linoleum. His heart thudded against the walls of his chest as he rushed toward the hallway. “Mom! Where are you?”
No answer. He pushed his way past a chair that was smashed against the bathroom door. If Benny had done this, he might still be here. Cody hoped so. He’d love the chance to level the guy, chuck him out onto the street. Still, he had to be careful. Benny could easily be armed, hiding around any wall, behind any door. Cody tore around a corner and into his mother’s room. She was there, passed out on the bed. Passed out or—
“Mom!” He raced to her side, grabbed her wrist, and felt for a pulse. It was slow and weak, but she was still alive. He surveyed her, the black eye and ripped shirt, the scratches on her arms. A few smears of blood on the bedspread told him her head was bleeding from somewhere. He gave her a firm shake. “Mom, wake up!”
A low moan came from her and she turned her head slightly, before going still again. Cody glanced frantically around the room. Was she knocked out from being hit, or had she taken something? He moved to her nightstand, and there in the top drawer was all he needed to see. A pipe and an amber-colored vile, a small mirror, a half straw, and a razor blade. He stepped on something and looked down to see an empty Jack Daniels bottle.
“Mom, why?” He shouted the words, furious and terrified all at the same time. He went to her again and took hold of her shoulder. “Wake up!”
He waited, trembling, and that’s when he heard it. The rattle in her chest, the strange uneven breathing. Whatever she was suffering from, she wasn’t okay. She wouldn’t want him to call an ambulance, but he had no choice. He wasn’t going to stand here and watch her die. Cody grabbed the phone by her bed and dialed 9-1-1. His heart was racing so hard and fast he could barely think.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“My mom’s unconscious. She’s not breathing right.” His words spilled out one on top of the other. “Please hurry…she’s in a lot of trouble. Someone broke into her house. Everything’s a mess.”
“You’re with her, is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cody sat on the bed, his hand on his mother’s head. Please, God…don’t let her die like this. Please.
“Are the perpetrators still in the house or are you alone with her?”
“I’m…I’m not sure.”
“Fine, we’ll send police as well.” The operator talked quickly and efficiently. “She’s breathing, and she has a pulse?”
“Yes, but it’s not good. Not strong.”
“Okay, someone’s on the way.” The operator asked Cody’s name and the address, to make sure it matched with their records. “Are you able to perform CPR if the need arises?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He felt suddenly dizzy, fear and anger dancing at a frenzied pace across his heart. “I’ll stay with her.”
The call ended and Cody stared at his mother. Her skin looked gray; it was cooler than usual and clammy. What had happened to her? Had she and Benny gotten in a fight or had someone broken in and robbed her? And what about the drugs? Was she high when the assault happened, or the other way around? He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and checked the time on her voicemail. Guilt hit him like a bullet, shattering what remained of his composure. Her call had come almost an hour ago. What if he’d found a quiet place and taken her message right when it came in? Would he have caught the jerk who’d torn up her house and beat her up? And would she have avoided the drug bash—whatever she’d taken?
“Mom?” His voice was softer now, and he leaned in close to her face. “Mom, can you hear me?”
There was no response. Just her raspy, shallow breathing—which sounded worse now than it had a couple minutes ago. He was taking her pulse again when he heard squealing tires outside. He’d expected sirens, but sometimes they didn’t use them when they reached a residential location like this.
He heard the door fly open and he stood, one hand still on his mother’s shoulder. “We’re in here!”
“Baby!” A string of cuss words rang through the house. “Baby…I’m coming!” The voice was hardly the professional one of a paramedic or emergency worker.
Cody felt his anger explode into rage as Benny barreled into the room. “What the—”
“Oh, you’re back?” Cody was on his feet, grabbing Benny by the shoulders and shoving him against the wall. The biker was heavier than Cody, but that didn’t stop him. His military training kicked in and Cody could only see red. Blood red. He shoved the guy again. “What? Did you come back to finish her off?”
“Back up!” Benny jerked Cody, and he bounced against the edge of his mother’s bed. “I didn’t do this! I was out riding when she—”
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, and in a matter of seconds two officers burst through the doorway. “Police. Freeze!”
Cody and Benny slowly raised their hands, and Cody gulped. This was crazy. How had everything gotten so out of hand? God, help me…help my mom. Please. “Officer, I made the 9-1-1 call.” He still had his hands up. “My mom needs help.”
Sirens pulled up outside as the police officer and his partner turned to Benny. “Who are you?”
“Benjamin Roth.” He blinked, clearly petrified. “I’m her boyfriend, but I…” he gestured toward Cody’s mother and the disarray on the floor. “I didn’t do this.” He ran his tongue across his lip, his eyes wide. “But I might…I might know who did.”
“Keep your hands up.” The police officer patted Benny down and directed the other officer to do the same to Cody. When they were satisfied that neither of them were armed, the officers tried to lead them into the living room.
“I need to sta
y!” Cody couldn’t believe what was happening. The police were treating him like a criminal when his mom was lying there dying on the bed. “Please…let me stay with her.”
The officers exchanged a look and the second one nodded. “We’ll need to talk to you once they take her.”
“Yes, sir.” Cody nodded, barely breathing. As the police led Benny out of the room, the paramedics rushed in.
One of them was Landon Blake—who had just been at the football game. He was at Cody’s mother’s side immediately, checking her pulse, her breathing. “Cody…what’s going on here?”
“I’m not sure.” Cody felt a burst of panic again. “She left me a message and I came to check on her. The house is a mess and she’s been beaten up pretty bad.”
Landon nodded. “What about the other guy?”
“Her boyfriend.” Rage flooded him again. “The guy’s not good for her. I’m not sure if he did this.” Cody tried to think clearly. “He just showed up…before the police.”
Another two paramedics were working on his mom now, and Cody stepped back against the wall, watching. Please, God…not like this. To think his mom would spend most of his childhood in prison for drugs, and then die like this—just when she was starting to live…the idea was devastating, and it consumed him. Please, God…help her.
Landon and the other guys were moving quickly, starting an IV and getting her on a gurney.
“I think she’s on something.” Cody pointed to the open drawer on the nightstand. “I found that.”
“Is she a user?”
Was she a user? The question felt like a dagger, slashing every dream and hope he’d ever held out for his mother. There was only one answer, no matter how long she’d been clean. Before she was a woman, before she was his mother, before she was anything else she might’ve been or become, she was definitely a user.
Landon was collecting the drugs and drug paraphernalia, putting them in a large Ziploc bag. He looked back at Cody, still waiting for an answer. “She’s done this before?”